After getting as much detail out of Striga as I could — which wasn’t much, given that she’d been an animal a day ago and was still getting the hang of things like “language” and “abstract cognition” — and cross-referencing it with what the goblins could tell me, I was able to start constructing a mental map of the region surrounding my domain. With a swipe of azoth, I turned it into a physical map as well, smoothing and flattening a stretch of cavern wall that I inscribed with rough estimates of where things were. At the center was me, represented by a little cartoon heart with devil horns. On my map, at least, I could be cute. North and west were the mountains that Nar-shesh’s goblin tribe had until recently called home, at least a hundred miles away based on their description of the journey. To the east, even further away, I was told there was an ocean. South were the Riverlands, a confederation of goblin tribes along the banks of several large rivers that ran roughly in parallel northeast-to-southwest.
More immediately relevant to me, though, were the two nearby human settlements. One, a day’s hard march to the north, had sent those slayers after my goblins. The other, less than half a day’s walk to the east, was where Striga had attacked a farmstead in her quest for a bite to eat. I feared that I could expect violent reprisals from either settlement at any moment. Thus, it was time to resume my extremely high-stakes game of Dwarf Fortress. Well, Goblin Fortress. You get the idea. I needed to beef up the dungeon.
The typical, passive model of dungeon defense, where I’d weather repeated incursions from parties of adventurers and rely on my infinitely-respawning hordes of minions, would not work here. I had no infinitely-respawning minions. I had, like, eleven extremely killable goblins, with names and personalities, who I’d promised to protect, plus a bunch of animals. Thus, I would need to build with the aim of minimizing loss of life, and that meant conventional fortifications. This dungeon would be a fortress, built to withstand sieges. I’d already secured the high ground by raising a tumulus over my core chamber, but a proper hill-fort still needed a wall. I’d assumed I would need to have the goblins build it, but maybe I was being too limited in my thinking.
I picked a smallish tree and tried to use [Dungeon Domain] to fell it - not by just tearing its entire root ball out and tipping it over, but actually chopping the trunk. To my surprise, it worked. My azoth simply severed the trunk, without noise or sawdust or any commotion whatsoever. As the tree toppled, I marvelled that the top of the stump was smooth enough that the goblins would probably be able to see their reflections in it. Another thought, and the trunk was stripped of bark and branches, and sharpened to a point at either end. One palisade log, ready to go. That whole process had been kind of azoth-intensive, but at least I’d established it was possible. A quick experiment with trying to “lift” the lumber and carry it to the edge of the hill with [Dungeon Domain] was called off when the azoth cost spiked dramatically. I guess telekinetically moving individual objects wasn’t what the skill was optimized for. Unlike when I’d healed Striga with [Azoth Mutation], there was no sense of cosmic wrongness. It was perfectly possible, just prohibitively draining. Maybe I’d need the goblins’ help after all.
“Hey, y’all,” I announced, causing several of them to jump in surprise. “I’ve been thinking about putting a palisade up around the rim of the hill. I could do it all myself, but it would take an impractically long time. Anybody who’s up for it, I’m taking volunteers to help out. I’ll get the logs ready for you and dig the holes, all you’ve gotta do is build the actual fence.”
Nar-shesh hopped to his feet, unsurprisingly. Teekas and her dad, the weirdly obsequious one whose name I forgot, also volunteered, as did a couple others. We talked logistics for a bit. I learned that the goblins in this region by and large didn’t have metal tools: steel axes and knives were heirloom items, purchased at great expense from human traders. When the goblins needed to fell a tree they’d girdle the trunk and wait for it to die on its own, or use fire to burn the base of the trunk away if they were in a hurry. That reminded me that I should probably see what could be salvaged from the dead adventurers’ weapons and armor. I’d basically just reburied them as they were after undoing the cave-in: their mangled remains had been pretty gross, for one, and for another I’d felt weirdly guilty about the whole thing and just wanted to put it out of my mind. Sure, they were remorseless murderers, so I didn’t regret it, but… I dunno, it was the first time I’d ever killed someone! It was weird!
The leader’s crossbow with the underslung magic flashlight was propped against a log by the fire. One of the goblins had it at some point after it fell in the water: he hadn’t volunteered to help with the palisade, but he sure was busy carving and fletching some new bolts for his new crossbow.
Eh, whatever. If he wasn’t doing it, I’d just have told somebody else to, so I couldn’t fault his instincts or his initiative. I’d keep an eye on him, since he was now one of the best-armed people for several miles around, but that was all. I made a mental note to ask Nar-shesh about him later, see what his deal was.
This, on a tangentially related note, was an inconvenient thing about [The Heart Speaks] — about as quiet as I could speak was “slightly above regular conversation volume,” and my voice, coming from everywhere as it did, carried. I’d quickly discovered that my ability to have a private conversation had serious limits.
As the goblins and I worked, I contemplated further plans for dungeon defense. Next on my list after the palisade was securing access to food and water for my minions. Even if the humans thought to dam the creek that fed my caverns upstream of where my domain could reach, enough water had still accumulated in underground pools to last us for a while. Food was the more pressing issue, especially with winter on the way. From talking with the goblins, I knew they had another day or two of travel rations at most. What the hell was I going to do about food? I guess we could raid human settlements for provisions, but I didn’t like our odds. The goblins could hunt my minion animals, but I had a limited ability to command the beasts and there weren’t enough of them for that to work for long anyway.
I chewed on the problem as I felled trees and split lumber, going in circles and coming to no conclusion. What broke my creative block was the ding of a system notification.
Achievement Unlocked!
Timberrrrr!
Condition: Cut down 25 trees.
Gained [Logger].
Hm. Let’s see what [Logger] gets me.
[Logger]
You have become proficient in the art of tree-felling. Gain increased system access regarding [Trees]. Small increase to damage against [Trees]. Small increase to dodge against [Trees].
Curious about this increased system access, but prepared to be underwhelmed given how little detail [Scholar] seemed to give me, I turned my gaze to a nearby tree.
Birch - Lv. 0
A deciduous hardwood. Famed for its thin, sheetlike bark and long, horizontal lenticels.
Health:
████
?/?
Hey, what? Now that I took a second to look, my vision was practically swimming with tree status bars. They were wispy and translucent in comparison to those of the goblins or my animal minions, but could be solidified by focusing on them. If trees had levels, and health bars — which I supposed made sense, they were alive after all — then could I…
Birch - Lv. 1
Bind Birch as a minion?
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
[No] [Yes]
Oho. Ohohohoho. Now we were cooking with gas. Or cooking with wood, I guess - better not strain this metaphor too hard. Alright, birch, let’s see if I can’t fruitify you. [Azoth Mutation] swept over the slender tree from the roots up. The birch had already dropped its winged seeds earlier in the summer and was closing up shop for the winter, but a jolt of energy woke it back up. Unobtrusive sprays of flowers rapidly emerged and faded, leaving drooping seedcones in their wake. With a thought, the seeds began to swell into something more like a nut — in the culinary sense, I was no botanist — making the visual effect closer to bunches of hard-shelled grapes. This was less costly in terms of azoth than I’d worried it might be, even though I was substituting pure magical energy for the nutrition of soil, sun, and water.
Time for a taste-test. “Hey guys, let’s take five,” I called to my crew of builders. “I’ve got something I want you to try.”
----------------------------------------
Teekas munched on one of the several kinds of fruit that the dungeon had magicked from ordinary plants. This one had been a holly berry; they were apparently poisonous to humans, though goblins merely found them unpalatably bitter. Persephone had swollen and sweetened the berry, and stripped it of its waxy coating. As a consequence of the latter change, the fruit was practically falling apart in her hands. Watching its red juice stain her fingers, Teekas had the brief and morbid thought that the overall experience was, except for the flavor, a bit like eating a chunk of raw meat.
A chill ran down her spine, though the fall air was still, and she shivered to shake it off. A quick look from side to side confirmed she was alone for the moment, far enough away from the others to not be casually overheard. She cleared her throat. “Uh, Lady Persephone?” she asked.
“What’s up?” came the dungeon’s voice from thin air, immediately. Teekas doubted she would ever get used to that. It was like having someone hovering silently over your shoulder at all times.
“If I…If you, like, minioned me like Nar-shesh, would you level me up like you did him, too?”
“Yeah, sometime in the next couple days,” Persephone said. “I’d need to work it into the schedule, but everyone who signs on is getting levelled.”
Teekas picked at her cuticles, head bowed. “And… if I signed on, would I have to fight for you like he will?”
“Okay, first off, Nar-shesh doesn’t have to fight for me, he wants to fight for me. It’s a team effort,” Persephone said, sounding a bit put out. “Second off, no. Look, it’s not like- I mean, if you stick around, you’re probably going to have to fight at some point, in self-defense, y’know? It’s inevitable. But I’m not going to be like ‘rargh, Teekas, go kill these humans for me.’” She was quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, her tone was softer. “It’s like- there’s this saying where I’m from, right? ‘From each according to their ability, to each according to their needs.’ Maybe your abilities mean you’d be most useful somewhere else. Maybe you need to not be on the frontlines of the fight. And you’re the expert on that — on what you can do, and what you need. Does that make sense?”
Teekas nodded. “I just,” she said. “I want to keep everyone safe, keep my dad safe, everyone-” She paused to collect herself. “I don’t think I could hurt someone. Like, on purpose. Does that make me a coward?”
“Eh,” Persephone said. “I dunno about a coward. I think it makes you a pushover, for sure.”
Teekas wilted at that, crumpling in on herself. A gentle warmth settled over her, after a moment - like a comforting hand on the shoulder, except applied to every part of her body simultaneously. It was nice, but also profoundly weird.
“There’s worse things to be than a pushover,” Persephone said. “Besides, we’re the revolution. We’re doing this for a world where nobody’s gonna push you over in the first place.”
Teekas laughed at that, even though it wasn’t very funny. “Alright,” she said. “Count me in, then.”
----------------------------------------
As it turned out, the goblins could keep working past sunset thanks to [Night Vision], which was convenient. I didn't want to push them too hard, though: I figured they had to be pretty exhausted. Plus, it's not like we were anywhere close to done with the palisade — it was kind of a big hill. It'd be pointless to work ourselves to death at this stage in the process.
At my suggestion, they set up camp in my cave layer, rather than under the open sky. They were able to light a campfire at the bottom of my main shaft without needing to worry about its light revealing their position to human hunters: a fire-roasted meal of cave fish and my best attempt to recreate a potato visibly raised spirits.
Ah, the potato, that sublime triumph of indigenous Andean bioengineering. Even an imperfect shadow of their great work was enough to grant my goblins a [Well-fed] status modifier. As the goblins basked in the firelight of companionship, I likewise basked in the satisfaction of a job well-done.
“So,” Teekas said nonchalantly as she munched on her baked fauxtato. “I decided to get bonded to Persephone.”
Her dad, Sarsu, whose name I’d managed to overhear this afternoon without having to undergo the mortifying ordeal of asking anyone about it, spluttered. “You what?!” he said, voice cracking. “I mean, uh, what a great honor! Surely being chosen to serve one so exalted as the sainted Lady Persephone will be your life’s greatest fortune!” He projected his voice like he was worried I wouldn’t hear him.
“Yeah, probably. It seemed like the right move,” Teekas said. “Anyway, just wanted y’all to know, I’ll be sticking around here. In case that affects anyone’s decision.”
“What do you mean, you decided to get bonded?” another goblin asked.
Teekas shrugged. “I dunno, I kind of figured it was like a standing offer, so I just said let’s do it and we did it. She took Nar-shesh and all he did was volunteer.” She waved a hand dismissively at the other goblin.
“Hey,” Nar-shesh protested, reacting more to her tone than the actual content of her words.
“It was that easy?” the other goblin asked, surprised.
“Is she gonna make you super high-level like Nar-shesh?” a younger goblin, presumably a sibling to the other, asked excitedly.
Sarsu interjected himself into the conversation again, unfortunately. “That’s absurd! One does not simply ask a realmheart to become their bondservant. It was undoubtedly a reward for your virtue and initiative, Teekas, but do not make the mistake of thinking that the final decision resided with you in that situation!”
“I dunno, I think if she took Teekas she’d probably take anybody,” said Malik teasingly, earning himself a steaming-hot fragment of potato flicked at his face from Teekas.
Sarsu spluttered incoherently for a bit. “Well… well… if it’s really that straightforward, then I also wish to become bonded to the realmheart!” He drew himself up self-importantly, hand over his heart. “I will serve her loyally and with the reverence she is due, as I am not insensitive to the great good fortune that has been bestowed upon us!”
“Dad, you really don’t need to do that,” Teekas said, trying in vain to tug him back down into his seat. Yeah, man, listen to your daughter. You seriously do not need to pledge yourself to my service. In fact, please don’t. “I did this so that I’d be strong enough to protect you, you don’t need to worry.”
“I wanna be a minion too!” yelled the younger-sibling goblin, leaping up from their seat.
Their older sibling put a hand on top of their head and squashed them easily back into their seat. “Maybe when you’re older,” they said.
There was a twang, and then a crack as a crossbow bolt knocked a chip out of my rock walls. “
That little speech would have been a lot more convincing if his voice hadn’t cracked just a little bit partway through. That, and what I now could tell were a smear of zits across his face and not merely some sort of normal goblin skin thing, solidified my impression of him: edgy teenager trying to position himself as above it all. That wasn’t in itself objectionable — I mean, it was, stop trying to build yourself up by tearing other people down, dude, especially at a time like this — but it wasn’t anything I felt the need to directly step in and correct.
Except for the issue of the crossbow.
A teenage edgelord with a bad attitude was one thing. A teenage edgelord with a bad attitude and a weapon was another. He might have only shot at a wall trying to look cool just now, but that bolt could have ricocheted and hurt someone. This little asshole had no trigger discipline whatsoever. I needed to, as safely as possible, separate him and his toy.
A tickle in my domain, and a sense of sudden presence and movement where previously there had been stillness and absence, provided an idea for how I might do that. “Heyyyyyy,” I said, loudly interrupting Teenage Edgelord’s still-ongoing monologue. “[Spontaneous Generation] just triggered! Who wants to come see my new minion?”