William sat at a small, unassuming wooden table tucked near the back corner of the Adventurer’s Guild main reception area. Since more than three-quarters of all revenants had left, the Guild was using the lowered activity to catch up on documentation of fulfilled quests and preparations for the next rush.
He’d been amused when he heard them comparing the revenant activity to the tides of the sea. High plague for when activity was high for eight days and low plague for the ebb of revenant numbers during the following twenty days. There was something about how they accepted the ebb and flow of revenants like it was just another force of nature.
He had made some inquiries and found out the Guild was hiring extra personnel to keep up with bookkeeping. When he showed up, they had hired him straight away. He was a little disappointed that he didn't get immediate access to the Guild archive, but there was still a lot of information available while checking up on the information revenants had supplied after reporting fulfilled quests. He had chosen a table in the reception area, where he could watch the comings and goings of the still bustling hall. His journal lay open before him, quill in hand as he jotted down notes from the latest reports. His job was to spot patterns and identify areas of heightened activity so that the Guild could direct more revenants to quests there. He had been issued a map of the city and surrounding areas with an overlay hexagonal grid pattern to divide it into sectors. He was working for the second day, so he’d not yet spotted anything suspicious. He first needed to find out what was considered normal, to get some baseline data. The monster spawners near the city had all been eliminated promptly. More were expected to appear right before the next high plague. There was still high demand for potion ingredients and the payout for the corresponding quests had been increased. The usual fare. Nothing that piqued his interest.
Some reports mentioned deviations from the expected activity. More than usual bandits had been reported near the northern trade route. They were described as mostly low-level threats, so he suspected some noobs playing highway robbers. They would soon enough find out all worthwhile targets were protected by other revenants and the really wealthy merchants employed level six guards. So, it mostly came down to noobs robbing other noobs. According to some worried comments he overheard it would get much more dangerous when revenants leveled up above level seven. Appropriate equipment would get horrendously expensive, so many revenants during the last plague had taken to banditry. It must have been really bad as people were still talking about it two centuries later.
As an investigator, William wasn’t one for the more obvious dangers adventurers sought. His work dealt with subtleties. Uncovering the mysteries behind events, sifting through rumors, and chasing threads that others might overlook. Most revenants he’d met saw him as a curiosity in a world filled with sword-wielding warriors and fireball-throwing mages, but he preferred it that way. He thrived on information and the power that came with knowing more than those around him.
The Guild Hall was alive with the usual chaos of adventurers. The clinking of armor, the hum of magic, and the general din of conversation. His sharp eyes drifted over the quickly moving queue of revenants, picking up details almost unconsciously: the way a group of mages argued over spell components while waiting in line to pick up a quest. A pair of rangers swapping arrows. A towering barbarian sharpening his axe with slow, deliberate strokes. The annoyed look of the receptionist because of the screeching metal sound of the whetstone.
Nothing unusual.
Until he walked in.
A cloaked man entered the hall, moving with deliberate care. He was smaller than most in the crowds by almost two heads. But too skinny to be a dwarf. He kept his head low, his face obscured beneath the shadow of a deep hood, his steps calculated to avoid drawing attention. But William noticed him immediately. Something about the way the stranger moved set his instincts on edge.
The figure wove through the crowd, careful to avoid making contact with anyone. Too careful. William leaned back in his chair, folding his arms, watching as the cloaked figure made his way to the service desk. Something about him was off.
He shifted slightly, making sure his hood shadowed his face.
William closed his journal, focusing his attention entirely on the scene unfolding at the service desk.
The stranger approached the desk and leaned in, speaking in a low, rough voice. William couldn’t hear the words, but he saw the tension in Elise’s posture, the way her brows furrowed as she listened.
Curiosity flared in William’s chest. He shifted his chair just slightly, angling his body to better hear the conversation, and then he used Sense Enhancement, the first feat he'd learned. He had hesitated at first to use this ominous system. He had dared to do so only after several locals had confirmed that the Voice of the World, which controlled the game-like functions, had existed since times immemorial and was not connected to the invaders. He suspected an ancient alien infestation of nanites that changed the bodily and neural functions inside of people. Most likely controlled by a hidden central AI system. Revenants were also affected, which probably was the reason they had to play by local rules, instead of just crushing any resistance and conquering the world. They had to level up like everybody else. Except for their cheat ability to come back from the dead. He reined in his errant thoughts and concentrated on the conversation. His feat was available for scout classes and of course investigators. It let him sharpen one sense for a limited time. This time he enhanced his hearing.
“I’m looking for information,” the cloaked man rasped, his voice low but clear enough for William to catch. “About a village... destroyed recently. Near the Darkroot Forest.”
Elise frowned, flipping through her ledger. “Destroyed? I didn’t hear of a whole village destroyed. What village?” she asked, her tone cautious.
“A settlement,” the stranger replied, his voice tight. “Small. Near the river.”
William leaned forward, his interest piqued. A destroyed village? The forests in the north weren’t the safest of places, but a whole village destroyed? He was sure he’d have heard about something like that.
Elise ran her finger down the list of recent quests, her brow knitting in confusion. “There is no report about a destroyed village. We would surely get some quests related to such a disaster. You must have been misinformed,” she said after a moment.
The cloaked figure stiffened, his hands clenching beneath the folds of his robe. “It was two weeks ago. Maybe longer. I came back from a hunting trip. I... knew some of the people there,” he said, his voice barely concealing the anger beneath the surface. “They weren’t dangerous. They didn’t deserve to be wiped out.”
Elise’s expression softened. “Oh, you mean the Silent River settlement. It was a surprise when all quests concerning that location just vanished. Later we heard it was found razed to the ground.” she said, her voice gentle but professional, while she continued searching the quest book. “I don’t think we issued a full extermination quest. If the Guild had authorized the raid, it would have been to protect the surrounding areas. Goblins often pose a threat…”
“They weren’t a threat!” the man snapped, his voice louder now, drawing a few curious glances from nearby adventurers. “They weren’t bandits. They were just trying to live!”
William’s mind raced. Goblins. The word lingered in his mind as the pieces fell into place. The stranger wasn’t talking about a human village or some wayward settlement of thieves. He was talking about a goblin village.
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William had seen enough goblin raids in computer games and TV series to know how these stories went. Goblins were seen as vermin, pests to be exterminated for a quick payout. But full-scale destruction? That was excessive. Games would not completely remove a leveling spot near a starting zone. This Voice of the World and all those quests and whatnot were clearly designed by someone imitating traditional computer games or tabletop RPG adventures. Something about this situation didn’t sit right.
Elise hesitated, her fingers still resting on the quest book: “I can’t find a note about any quest to destroy the village. It was the location of a few popular beginners’ quests for revenants. Retrieving stolen goods or missing children, stealing the staff of the local shaman, standard quests."
The cloaked figure turned sharply, his shoulders tense as if ready to storm off. William’s instincts flared. He could feel the frustration radiating from the man, the quiet fury that simmered just beneath the surface.
Before the stranger could leave, William stood, stepping closer to the desk. “You seem awfully concerned about a goblin village,” he said, his voice calm but pointed.
For a moment, the stranger stood perfectly still, as if debating whether to flee or stay. Then, slowly, he turned to face William. Beneath the shadow of the hood, a pair of sharp, yellow eyes caught the light, narrowing with a mixture of suspicion and fear.
William’s heart skipped a beat. Those eyes weren’t human.
The goblin narrowed his eyes. “What do you know about it?”
William shrugged. “Only that the Guild isn’t always as transparent as they like to pretend. You came here looking for answers. I can help you get them.”
The goblin’s hands twitched beneath his cloak, and William could see the conflict warring in those yellow eyes. Mistrust, fear, and a desperate need for information. He knew that feeling well. It was what drove him to become an Investigator in the first place.
Elise looked between them, clearly uneasy, but she stayed silent. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to be a part of.
The goblin finally spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “Why would you help me, human?”
William smiled slightly. “I’ve always been more interested in the truth than the official story. And something about this situation smells wrong. If you want to find out why your village was targeted, you’ll need more than what the Guild’s willing to share.”
The goblin hesitated for a long moment, his body still tense, but then he gave a short, reluctant nod. “Fine. I’ll listen.”
William nodded, satisfied. “Good. Then let’s get out of here. The walls have ears.”
As he turned to leave, the goblin fell into step behind him, his posture guarded but determined. William could feel the weight of the coming storm. There was something about this. He could feel it.
Outside they quickly found a deserted alley where they could talk. He glanced at the goblin, his yellow eyes gleaming beneath the hood. “First things first,” William said quietly. “I think a formal introduction is in order. My name is William.”
“My name is Grrg.”
William held out his hand, but the goblin moved back half a step. The investigator decided to accept his reluctance. “You need to tell me everything you know about what happened, then I’ll find out if there was any quest connected to the village.”
The goblin’s jaw tightened, but he nodded in agreement.
“I don’t condone what happened,” William continued, keeping his voice steady. “But if you want to know the truth, I can help you find it. You’re not going to get far by asking questions at the service desk.”
The goblin stared at him for a long moment, weighing his words. Finally, he gave a slow, reluctant nod. “What’s in it for you?” he asked, suspicion lacing his tone.
William allowed himself a small smile. “Call it professional curiosity. I’m an Investigator. And I have a feeling this situation is more complicated than a simple quest gone wrong.”
The goblin relaxed just a fraction, then told his story: “I set out with ten other hunters for a regular hunting trip. When we left, everything was normal. More goblins murdered by marauding revenants in the surrounding woods, but that was expected. Because new plague. Revenants means dead goblins. More revenants, more dead goblins. Way of life.” He just shrugged at Williams look of pity.
“When we returned after one week, laden with dried flesh, we were in high spirits. Then we found the settlement empty of life. No goblins. No live stock. No fires burning in the hearths.”
William stopped him: “Did the fires burn down or were they doused?”
The goblin paused. Then frowned: “I’d say they were doused. Damn. I didn’t even notice.”
“Then I assume the houses were searched and robbed?”
“Yes. Goblins don’t have much. I did not look much. But all metal was gone. Cheap knives, spoons, nails, everything.”
William looked around in the alley. Still empty, with no one in sight except for the occasional passerby crossing the end of the alley. He lowered his voice: “Where were the people?”
He had to wait while the goblin stared at the floor. When he answered, his voice was flat, empty of emotion: “Outside the village. All around. Some in the river. Some in bushes, half hidden. On one side of the village, I found most of our warriors. Left where they died.”
The situation took form in Williams's mind. “So, the village was surrounded and the warriors concentrated on one side to open a way, but the others didn’t trust them to succeed and tried to flee in all directions, where they were cut down. How did they die? By swords or arrows?”
The goblin paused. “Goblins around the village had mostly cuts and broken arrows sticking out of them. The warriors… It was strange… Many had the same wound. Their ribcage cracked right in the middle. No other serious wounds. Others had arrow and sword wounds.”
William thought about that. He had too little experience in medieval combat to discern the enemy's tactic. Those breast wounds also didn’t sound familiar to him. Maybe a spell or some martial arts move? “Did you find any enemy corpses?”
The goblin snorted: “Revenants disappear when slain. Only one left his hand in a bush. But already rotten and moldy.”
“Is that normal for body parts after a few days to a week?” William decided to get and read some anatomy books as soon as possible. He should have read up on forensic science as he still had access to the internet.
“Hand looked older. Revenant parts probably age faster when cut.”
William’s eyes lit up. “Wait! Could it have been from a zombie?”
The goblin shrugged.
“Okay… They surrounded the village. No one escaped, even though your people knew the area and probably had some prepared escape routes. That means either someone has been spying on the camp for some time…”
Grrg gave a weak chuckle. “Fat chance. Goblin sentries smart. Notice spy.”
“But they didn’t notice the attack in time.”
Grrg’s face darkened.
William hurriedly continued. “I meant no disrespect to their abilities. But your enemies must have been very stealthy or they have used magic or artefacts to sneak near enough. They managed to surround the village before anyone noticed. How many men did they need for something like that?”
“Four dozen… maybe five dozen. Less if good archers. More if undead. Goblins fast. Undead slow. They evade the first encirclement. Must have had a second team farther outside.”
“So, in conclusion: A very big group of revenants, their numbers possibly boosted by the undead, have managed to surround your village unnoticed. They killed everyone and then systematically plundered the village, even if there wasn’t much to get. You can’t sell goblin knives even for coppers, though they probably needed the metal. Which means they must have connections to an organization that has production facilities. Or maybe a few smiths. There were many enemies and they had undead. They must also have used high-level scouts or spells to remove the goblin sentries. It wasn’t anything like a revenge act, that would have looked different. They’d probably burned down the village or done something to indicate, they had taken revenge. That level of secrecy makes no sense. Unless there was some super-secret goblin treasure?”
Grrg just snorted.
“Alright. It wasn’t revenants just having fun. It was organized, planned, and executed flawlessly. Whoever did it, got something out of this. Goblins are too low-level to powerlevel someone… There is this thing with the victims with similar wounds, however. I have to investigate that. Until then, we must conclude there has been a big organization with enough time and resources to spend on such an endeavor. One thing that irks me is why someone using undead didn’t just raise the goblins.”
The goblin shrugged: “No ancient master necromancer. No surprise.”
“What do you mean?”
“Necromancers only summon undead from same race. Need much knowledge for other races. In ancient times, many generations past, there was a goblin death priest joining necromancers. Revenants killed him before he could raise many goblins. Goblins don’t live long. Goblin graveyards full of bodies.”
“Interesting… Okay. One more question: Is the location of your village common knowledge?”
The goblin thought about that. His answer sounded unsure: “Don’t know. Revenants always find, even as should be secret.”
William stroked his chin. “I’ll look up all groups that have taken quests against the goblin village and if they got a map or directions with it. If there’s a group that hasn’t completed its quest, that could indicate they just used the quest to get the location. I will give you my address. You can visit me there tomorrow evening.”
The goblin nodded.