When Rowan awoke he was being dragged along by a group of goblins. Everywhere around him were goblins. He was in some kind of wooden fort, in a room crowded full of the beings.

He saw an older goblin in a white wig seated upon a higher chair overlooking the room. Rowan realized the place was set up like a courtroom, and he was on trial.

One goblin stood with a puffed up chest and stared down at Rowan before asking the question, “Who are you?”

“My name is Rowan.”

One goblin shouted “LIES!” before being elbowed by his neighbor and hushed with a “not yet.”

The goblin interrogator asked a follow up question, “And what is it you do?”

“I’m a farmer.”

Now the whole assembly gave an outburst of disapproval. “Lies! Vandal! Pillager! Thief!”

“It’s true,” Rowan protested, “I came from Flenshire in Iridia just east of here to set up a new farm. Our group was attacked as soon as we crossed over. I don’t know how I survived.”

“You accuse goblins of starting the attack?”

“No, it wasn’t goblins. It was monsters. A gargoyle and a giant badger led by another human.”

“Was this before or after you burned the village of Polsta? And was all that before or after you slaughtered the Garr brigade?”

“I didn’t do any of those things! How could I? I’m just a farmer. I’m not a fighter, just look at me?”

Some goblins invaded his personal space, staring with big eyes and then sniffing. They seemed to acknowledge that Rowan was a thin young man with little muscle. One goblin tugged a scrawny arm to test its strength, then shrugged.

Some goblins were not convinced, “He was there by the eastern border. You can’t trust these humans. He burned Polsta for sure! And he was caught as he fled the scene.”

“I was fleeing because I was attacked by those monsters! My whole party. I don’t know if any of them survived. We just got here, we didn’t burn any village. It was probably burned by those same monsters that attacked us.”

But the crowd of goblins didn’t seem to believe this. They clamored for his execution.

“I tell you I’m just a farmer!” Rowan pleaded desperately, but the goblin shouts continued.

“If he is a farmer…” came a low, gravely voice from the back of the room. All heads turned. Slowly a wagon was rolled in carrying the fattest goblin Rowan had ever seen. “...Make him prove it.”

There were whispers of confusion. Clearly the goblin crowd showed great reverence to this large one that had to be rolled in by four other goblins. Rowan tried to cover his mouth and nose when he smelled the being.

The goblin who had been interrogating Rowan looked confused, “Duke Gormirer, are you sure? I really don’t think we should give him the chance. I’m pushing that we execute him.”

“GRAALHALHAAA!!”

The foul, gout-ridden duke bellowed with such a bizarre, upsetting sound that resonated through the whole fort. A dark cloud appeared above the duke, and suddenly a great wind flew through the room, carrying the offending goblin. A strange dark energy struck the poor soul as he flew through the air toward the duke, shrinking him slightly, until he was small enough to fit in the duke’s mouth and the monster consumed him completely.

After some munching and crunching the duke burped. There was complete silence until he said, “That’s what happens to those who question me.”

He shoved one of his wagon-pulling lackeys to the front of the room, “You’re the prosecutor now,” then he scanned the room carefully before choosing another goblin to grab and set by his side.

The newly appointed prosecutor looked nervous, but quickly composed himself and presented a quickly improvised case before the goblin who appeared to be the judge.

“Er, um, the prosecution intends to put this man on conditional probation. Council will need time to put together our terms,” the goblin spoke in a way that clearly showed he was making things up on the spot. He was doing a pretty good job considering he had been literally thrown into this position quite suddenly. It would seem goblins surrounding the duke had to be adaptable.

The judge looked around the room, “Is there anyone willing to sponsor him?”

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A spry older goblin stepped up, “I’ll do it.” He gave Rowan a sympathetic smile, and gestured for him to follow.

The duke was the first to leave. It took great effort for the group of goblins to turn the cart around and shove him out the front door. Once he was gone there was an uproar of protests from the goblin assembly, but Rowan’s new sponsor led him out to a carriage of his own.

“I’m baron Glumziel. Let me take you to my land.”

Rowan was grateful the goblin seemed to be looking out for him, but he wasn’t looking forward to working for another baron. He was still confused about what happened. He supposed he should be grateful to be alive, but he was so anxious about what would happen next.

As soon as Rowan got outside, a hood was put over his head. Then he rode a short wagon ride to another location. When light was revealed again, Rowan saw that the goblin baron brought him to his mansion, where he explained the situation.

“You’re going to be given a plot of land to farm. You’re going to have to meet certain quotas. They’ll get the details ironed out as to exactly what you’re responsible for. You’re going to owe the goblin kingdom a great debt just because they allowed you to be here.”

“I’m just grateful to be alive,” said Rowan, but he was still curious just how much farming he’d have to do to repay this debt. He knew he was falsely accused, but didn’t see a way of convincing any goblins of the fact. For now he’d have to just keep his head down and do what he was told.

“You’re incredibly lucky. I don’t know how you escaped an attack from Santorious.”

Rowan was shocked, “You- you know who I was talking about?”

“Of course I know. The wyrm. He’s a shapeshifter, but he likes to take the form of a human sorcerer. I knew it was him by those lackey’s you mentioned. He’s one of the souls of Aggremar, the dragon god. But now in his vanity he’s adopted his own unique identity.”

“Then you know it was he who attacked your village?”

“Know? I suspect, fairly strongly. But it doesn’t matter what I think. You’re charged with that crime. You and any other human they find who made it out alive. Though I doubt there are many if it truly was Santorious.”

“Is there any way to clear my name?”

“Don’t get your hopes up for that. Goblin law isn’t overly organized. Even if you have overwhelming evidence that you were accused falsely, it won’t matter. Once you have your sentence, it must be carried out. They’ll forget what crime you committed, but they won’t forget you owe them labor. And be grateful you just owe them labor and not your life.”

“How much labor do I owe?”

“They’ll decide. Just assume you’re here indefinitely.”

Rowan lost hope. He might as well have lost his life. He wondered if he’d rather be dead or committed to labor for the goblins the rest of his days. He had to get used to this life. He’d been a lowly human peasant in the human kingdom. Now he was a lowly human peasant in a goblin kingdom.

Glumziel saw Rowan crestfallen and said, “Don’t despair. I won’t treat you harshly like the duke, the counts, or the other barons. If you get your work done, I won’t bother you. In fact you probably won’t see much of me at all. My daughter’s an excellent manager.

Glumziel led Rowan through his mansion down a hall and knocked on a door. Out came a female goblin with purple hair. “This is Zillia, she’ll be your boss.”

Zillia looked nonplussed, “When you left for court today to see the human they captured I didn’t think that meant you were going to hire it.”

Glumziel smiled, unsurprised by his daughter’s negative reaction, but as if he knew she would get used to the situation, “I’ll leave you to get acquainted. You can take him to the lot as soon as you’re ready,” the baron said, waddling away.

There was silence for a beat. Then Rowan said, “So you’ve been managing farms for a while or...?”

Zillia flicked the back of his head, “I’ve got more farming experience than you can imagine. And I have lots of parcels to manage with goblins farmers who know what they’re doing. So I’m going to be very busy, and don’t have time for someone who’s going to be executed in a couple weeks anyway.” She walked out of the room and through the hallway.

Rowan followed. He wanted to prove himself as a decent farmer, but suddenly he was more concerned with the last thing she said. He instantly wondered if the baron had been completely honest about the position he was in. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot here. Why am I going to be executed?”

“For any number of reasons. Basically because you’re human, and humans don’t live in Zyndak.”

“But the goblin war is over. There was a treaty. They can’t just kill humans for no reason.”

“There are more specific reasons,” Zillia marched out to a wagon and started setting up a horse, “Either they’ll charge you with a new crime, or say you aren’t fulfilling the requirements of your probation and default back to execution.”

“I don’t even know the requirements of my probation.”“They’ll be steep. To fulfill them, you’ll have to work so hard you’ll wish you were dead.”

“And if I don’t do that I’ll be executed.”

“Exactly.”

“So if I want to avoid being dead I have to work so hard I’ll wish I was dead.”

“Precisely.”

Rowan tried to work out the logic and tried to figure out how motivated he should be to work hard. Zillia finished getting the horse set up and gave him a look of mock pity.

“That’s why I’m not going to put much effort into getting to know you. And I’m not going to bend over backward to teach you things you should already know. Now put the bag back on,” Zillia tossed him the burlap sack he’d worn before.

“You act like you’ve been in this situation before.”

“You can either put on the bag or I can knock you out.”

“Does the location of the mansion have to be such a secret? I mean, if I’m going to die in a couple weeks.”

THUNK

Rowan was knocked out by a goblin for the second time.