Rowan sat peacefully by the stream, letting his stamina restore and enjoying the sight of various critters scampering about. He noticed a beaver collecting wood and laughed thinking of how many trees he’s whacked and how many wooden tools he’d gone through. He wondered how many beavers it would take to assemble the amount of wood he’d gone through.

That afternoon was fairly uneventful as Rowan harvested more vegetables and prepared crates to bring into town.

Rowan was pleased to show his haul to Zillia when she brought the cart around. He could tell she was trying to hide the fact that she was impressed. She looked over the orders and stopped when she saw something on the little scrap of paper.

Rowan noticed her look of worry, “What’s wrong?”

Zillia loaded the cart, “Let’s get you into town early today.”

As they rode into town Zillia explained the problem, “You’re about to get potato seeds.” She said it with such disproportionate gravity that Rowan laughed. Zillia gave him a stern look.

“Sorry,” said Rowan, “But I don’t see how that’s a bad thing.”

“You’re too weak to be planting potatoes. It’s not just about the plant. It’s about what they attract.”

“What do they attract?”

“You don’t want to know. It’s bad news. I don’t know if you realize it, but everything you do draws attention to you. On human land you’re probably used to pests like birds and rabbits. I’m sure you’ve realized we have more dangerous stuff here.”

“It’s not so bad. Those giant worms gave me problems at first, sure. But I’m much stronger now, and I can take them out in one shot.”

Zillia rolled her eyes, “You attracted worms by planting corn. But every type of plant attracts different types of enemies. Tomatoes attract roaches. And potatoes…” her voice trailed off again as she seemed to imagine something terrible. Then she went on. “Everything you do attracts enemies. Even killing enemies attracts more enemies.”

That explained the huge sludge that Rowan faced after fighting a bunch of slimes. But he still couldn’t wrap his head around why Zillia seemed so worried, “If you want me to postpone the potatoes I’ll do it. I’ll wait until I’m strong enough.”

“It’s not just about being strong enough. It’s about developing better strategies. We can’t just wait for you to level up. That’s too slow a process. You need some training.”

“Training? Who’s going to agree to train me?”

**

The two arrived at the goblin village, Zillia leading the way to a particular house, but no one appeared to be home. Zillia started inquiring with the neighbors, who exchanged troubled looks, whispering and muttering. It seemed whoever Zillia was looking for had not been seen in some time.

While Zillia was having her chat, Rowan went off by the well to ask some goblins about what it took to dig such a useful water feature. He didn’t get very helpful advice. Just judgment and scorn.

Some cacophonous clanging was heard throughout the town square. It turned out old Forguz decided to bang a bunch of metal scraps together.

The whole town felt like a mess to Rowan. Zillia approached him with concern, “Something’s wrong. Too many goblins are missing.”

Rowan explained Scrumble’s theory of kobold’s kidnapping craftsmen. Zillia considered this seriously. She thought long and hard before speaking, well we’ve got to test this theory somehow.

After dropping off all the finished orders at the inn, Rowan watched as Zillia led the old goblin Forguz to the blacksmith’s forge. He continued to bang metal wildly. After a while, Zillia led the goblin to another house across from the inn.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Come with me,” Zillia said, grabbing Rowan’s hand and leading him into the inn. She went to one of the upstairs rooms and watched through a window. It was now getting late.

“Just what are we watching?” asked Rowan.

“I always heard rumors that kobolds watched this village closely. That they come out at night to kidnap goblins. We’re going to see what happens.”

Rowan thought about the actions Zillia took to walk the old goblin through the actions of a blacksmith, “Was all that to make him look like a craftsman?”

“We’ll see if it fools the kobolds.”

**

As night fell Rowan and Zillia watched closely through the window to the house they set Forguz up in.

“Are you worried about other things that come out at night? Those rift creatures?”

“Stay close to me and you’ll be alright. I’m carrying a ward that keeps them at bay.”

Zillia hadn’t tolerated staying close to Rowan for this long before. Rowan wondered what to talk about. He stared out the window at the wooden house beneath a starry sky. Suddenly a rock flew at that house across from the inn.

The two rose hastily. Rowan peered out the window to get a better look while Zillia charged out of the room and down stairs. Rowan couldn’t see anything, so he followed as fast as he could.

Rowan reached the inn door and opened it to see Zillia running off into the distance after a wagon full of kobolds. Rowan ran to catch up, but everyone else was much faster than him. He saw they were going off in the direction of his farm, the same direction that Scrumble had been taken.

There was a brief moment that Rowan thought Zillia was closer to him. Not in proximity, but in relation. Now the more and more distance she gained on him as he failed to run fast enough to catch up reminded him of how things really were. She had forgotten all about him. As for the ward she carried that was supposed to stave off rift beasts? Rowan forgot all about that.

**

Rowan debated whether to keep following the kidnapping kobolds or turn around back to the inn. It was a cold night and he didn’t want to be out and about. But he couldn’t picture himself rolling into bed when he knew Zillia was out there fighting those creatures alone. He pulled himself together and charged deeper into the forest.

He passed his farm on the way to where he believed the kobolds were headed. It was so quiet at night. There were no giant bugs or slimes roaming around. He didn’t hear any birds chirping. He had an eerie, uneasy feeling.

Rowan passed the torch-lit shed Scrumble tucked himself away in. The goblin heard him pass and tossed and turned over. He rustled the grassy sheets he apparently made himself and stood up, “What’s the crazy human doing here?” he asked no one in particular, still dazed from being woken up so suddenly.

“Kobolds,” was all Rowan needed to say for the little goblin to pick up a pair of axes and follow Rowan. Scrumble didn’t always get along with him, but he seemed like he could be a trusted ally against the common enemy who once held him hostage.

As the two set off deeper into the woods, new creatures emerge. These were not the rift creatures Rowan had been warned about, but natural creatures that happen to be out at night. Rowan found himself faced with an angry owl and a giant cricket.

There was no time for combat, and Rowan wasn’t feeling up to the task of fighting new enemies. He had to save what little strength he had for the kobolds. It didn’t help that he didn’t get a good rest at the inn. Why did he choose this day to tiring himself out fighting extra slimes? He wasn’t expecting to have to face such dangerous threats at night.

While trying to run past the nocturnal enemies, Rowan took a little damage. Rowan ran ahead to a safe place hidden in some trees, but then paused to assess the situation. He was in no condition to fight kobolds. His pride told him he couldn’t run away. But he didn’t know what good he would do charging in given his current state. He felt hopeless and lost.

Scrumble passed him, then slowed down giving him a skeptical look, confused why he had stopped. Rowan didn’t know how to explain himself. Scrumble shook his head and muttered something like, “Typical human,” before charging into battle.

Rowan truly wanted to follow, but he felt like he was coming face to face with death. This awareness of his own mortality reduced to a mere stat felt like a curse. He felt completely fragile. Rowan couldn’t justify his own behavior. He felt ashamed that he couldn’t be more useful. He felt embarrassed that he alternated so wildly between crazed exuberant fighting and complete defeat and cowardice. Rowan sat in the tree hollow punishing himself more. He didn’t know why he was this way. He felt like a complete useless failure.

He heard some rustling above him. Rowan didn’t know what to expect. Could it possibly be something that would magically save the day? Rowan felt like he’d experienced a pattern where right when he was near complete and utter defeat some selfless goblin had swooped in to save him. That didn’t seem possible now. Whatever was rustling above him was clearly going to swoop down and finish him in one fell swoop. He didn’t dare look up. He didn’t have to. The creature came to him.

Down from the treetops came a ghoulish eight-legged creature covered in spikes, emanating an aura of dark magic. Purple clouds of light floated around its limbs. Rowan looked into the dead eyes of a spider-shaped rift creature.