We walk toward the bridge and into the cloud of smoke. It feels like we’ve stepped into an active volcano. The heat, the fumes, the dust. I cough as we move in single file across the bridge. It’s pretty damn narrow and there are no guardrails on this thing. I look down and the embers are still smoldering.

Great, I wouldn't die if I fell, just get a bunch of third degree burns. Fabulous.

Back on Earth, before I came through the portal, I would have just turned around. I would have looked at that narrow bridge and headed right back to my room.

“No way I’m walking across that thing,” I’d say. “What if I fell? What if the bridge gave way? What if the fire restarted?”

What if ? What if? What if? I’d crucify myself with hypotheticals until what little courage I had was so wounded by question marks it would bleed out upon my mental battlefield.

Not anymore though. After fighting bandits, husks, and orcs this is just another obstacle in my way – and a small one at that. Maybe that’s why we’re able to traverse hte bridge so easily. We’ve already seen bigger problems.

The smoke gives way to a clear vision of the royal court. It is the king, his wife, and his daughter. And the daughter….

KAPOW

She is the hottest damn thing I’ve ever seen. She may not have the grace or elegance of Luna but in terms of raw hotness she cannot be beat. And she flaunts it. Even moreso than other young nobles. Her dress is more like lingerie and it doesn’t even fully cover her ass. She’s almost falling out of her top and her eyes are magnetic. They’re red, but not demonic. It’s more intensity than seduction. A vault of determination.

“You’ve no idea how many stop at the bridge,” the king says easily. “Dwarves, elves, humans. Doesn’t matter. So many visitors cannot cross the bridge.”

“Well,” I say, trying to remain modest. “You did put the fire out for us.”

The king nods. “That we did. Would you have stopped if we did not?”

The goblin king looks so serious. His dress is sharp, very military in design. Like one of his ‘guards’ but with a few more adornments such as the stripes going down his pants and the long red sash across his chest. The clothes compliment his narrow chin and pointed features. He could be a businessman, working on goblin wall street.

“No,” I say, answering the king’s question. “I don’t think we would.”

The king smiles just a hair. “I agree.” He looks at his wife and his daughter then spreads his hands out before me. “Welcome to my court. I am King Ulak. Ruler of these mountains and leader of the goblins. We are honored by your presence.”

I bow, not sure if it's an appropriate response, but figuring it can’t hurt. “Thank you, Majesty. Both for your welcome and for the hospitality of your people.”

The goblin whisks the compliment away. “Of course. I wish we could do more but many of our resources are engaged elsewhere.”

“The orcs,” I says.

King Ulak nods. “Yes, I heard you met them. We have been meeting them for years but it’s only recently they’ve become a problem.”

“Only recently? I don’t understand.”

The King looks to his wife, as if welcoming her to respond. The goblin queen has more clothes than her daughter. They are still cut seductively though with a plunging neck line and a long slit.

When can you stop dressing like that? 60? 70?

“The orcs have always been with us. Much like your bandits in the grass the orcs have nipped at us from the deep roads. They lie below the mountains, in tunnels from the time before scrolls. They have always been a nuisance.” She looks at her king and he motions for her to continue. “They are now much more than that.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Something happened,” the king says. “After Astria fell. We knew of the war and of the sorceress from travelers through our land. And while we first dismissed the threat we soon came to realize the humans were not as strong as we initially thought.”

“Or the sorceress more dangerous,” the princess mumbles to the side.

Her father throws her a corrective stare before looking back to me. “Shortly after Astria’s fall the orcs started acting differently. More disciplined, more organized, more strategic. Traits they had never exhibited before.” He sighs. “And like the humans we were slow to react.”

“Or they were just stronger,” the princess interjects again.

The king whirls on her. “Princess Vestra! You dare contradict me in the throne room.”

The king’s voice is loud and strong, filled with genuine anger.

The princess looks to her mother who offers her nothing but a stone face and then back to her father. “Majesty, forgive –”

“Get out!”

The princess looks briefly at me - as if there’s anything I can do about this - then stands, bows to her parents and to me, and exits.

The room is quiet for a minute, like the king is waiting for the last vestige of her energy to fully dissipate into the air around us.

“And that is why we’ve been losing,”says the king regretfully. “We became lazy and undisciplined, blaming others for our own problems. We took our victory for granted and because of that have failed to stop the orc’s advance. We don’t even control our own mountain anymore. As I’m told you found out.”

It’s hard for me to imagine the goblin army being undisciplined. Everything around here seems more ordered than a freaking boot camp. I consider saying something to that effect, but decide against directly challenging the king, preferring to just nod politely.

I mean at least the part about orcs is true enough.

“Now even my own daughter has embarrassed me before the Maker’s chosen.” the king shakes his head. “People always overestimate the power of evil. As if evil has any power the Maker does not allow. That is another lesson we had to learn: reliance on our Maker above all else. Too many of us had become weak in our faith. That is why the orcs are winning.”

The queen grasps her husband’s hand. A gesture of support, most likely.

“But all that will end soon enough,” the king continues. “We are done defending ourselves from orc attacks. We run here and there like rats in a maze. Not anymore. The army will take the fight to them. And all of us will put our prayers before the Maker. The temples will hold vigils. The clerics will pray without sleep until our army returns. I have commanded it and it shall be done.”

The king looks at me expectantly, like he is expecting some kind of commendation or reassurance.

“Your army looks ready to me, Majesty,” I say truthfully. “I’ve been very impressed with everyone I’ve met.”

The king nods. “Thank you. Yes, they are good goblins. Just needed a bit of motivation. This should all be over soon and when it is we shall see about your request.”

“My request?”

Of course, I damn near forgot why I came here myself.

“You mean you’ll let me access the goblin tower?” I ask. “The goblin Tower of the Magi?”

The King chuckles a little. It’s a high pitched noise, very strange and incongruous with the typical low voice of the goblins. “Yes, Sir Ethan. Though it’s not much of a tower anymore I’m afraid. Not anymore anyway. And its remnants are in orch territory. But as I say, not for long.”

If you say so.

The king stands, with the queen following suit. “We have prepared rooms for you nearby. Hopefully, we will meet again after our victory. Until then please feel free to rest from your journey. Perhaps we can even celebrate together after both our tasks have been accomplished.”

The king bows to me and I return it. The royal couple leave and we are soon motioned out ourselves. We don’t have to traverse the bridge again though as we are instead shown to a side exit that is far less dramatic but far more convenient.

The king wasn’t kidding about our ‘nearby’ room as it is less than a five minute walk from the grand chamber and in the heart of the goblin nobility. The room itself is quite spacious, if plain , and comes pre-populated with a substantial table laden with food options of various sorts. Our goblin escort even give us a bell should we need anything else.

Like I’m in a Jane Austine book all of a sudden.

“I take back everything I’ve ever said against the goblins,” Myran announces gleefully as he picks-up a goblet of wine. “We get to laze about while they do all the work? This is the best idea any king has ever had. I should have thought of it myself.”

“Hmm,” responds Cyrus. “You sound like one of those elf nobles you despise so much.”

A shadow flits across Myran’s face, but it doesn’t stay for long. “Not even your barbs can injure me now, Vicar. A few days of rest is fine by me. Maybe I’ll find a lute and work on my love poetry.”

I’m about to ask who that love poetry is for with Luna out of the picture, when I notice a note placed amongst all the food dishes.

It’s a note from the princess.