“You have to do something about this.”
Fresk looked back over his shoulder at the well-dressed woman standing to his side, presuming herself to be too far from the creature to be heard. A dangerous assumption if he’d ever heard one. The thing was likely to be over level 100 based on how instantaneous and guttural his response to Intuit had been. So, he wandered further away, knowing the woman to be clever enough to take the hint.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Of course, he knew what Larese meant. The creature had found itself a follower, or perhaps even a hostage, and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing any of them could do, really.
“Don’t play coy with me, Fresk. That creature hasn’t been more than five feet from my son for the past day. The boy won’t listen to me! It’s surely got a mind-altering skill beyond my ability to deal with, and at this rate I might lose him forever! You have to kill it.”
Fresk let the woman vent her frustrations. He couldn’t understand, not entirely at least. After all, he wasn’t a parent. But he did understand that seeing a loved one in danger was gut wrenching. Knew even better how much worse it was when you were the one that brought them along in the first place.
“You know damn well that any attack on it would have only one result.”
She grimaced and opened her mouth to speak. She was much too skilled, too practiced to show it, but Fresk was sure that it was frustration and anger she was feeling. That’s how he had felt after all. But, knowing what she would say, he cut her off.
“Look, Larese. Mirri has been talking to the thing for a day now and nothing has happened. It’s been tampering with our food for even longer. It’s opened rifts in space just to season food, Larese! For whatever reason it wants flour more than it wants us dead, so we just have to make ourselves useful enough to not be wiped out afterwards. Or…”
He looked back at the wagon where Mirri and the creature were engaged in conversation of a kind.
“I make deals for a living, Fresk. This is my caravan. You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”
He nodded slightly but didn’t turn back to her yet. They’d discussed how to not lose the village immediately on return and more or less come to the same conclusion. But Fresk had been worried all along that it still wouldn’t be enough. Well, worried until recently. He’d been dropping hints here and there for only a short while, but he had confidence in the young boy.
“I’m saying all of this because you should know lots of things, but your judgement is clouded. As it should be, this isn’t something any of us expected—”
“Don’t patronize me, Fresk. I insisted that you come along with us specifically to ensure Mirri would have all the protection he needed on his first trading trip, not to lecture me on why you’re doing nothing.”
He turned back at her at that. She handled herself so well even in her current state; honestly it was a wonder she had ever settled for their backwater village either. Someone like her could have easily done ten times as well for themselves in the city, even if it was Berics.
Long blonde hair framed a face full of sharp features, blue eyes rimmed with uncharacteristic bags, Larese looked nothing like her. But he’d be lying if he said the situation didn’t have some similarities. He felt something settle in his stomach like a tiny iron fist.
“My point was that Mirri is likely the safest of all of us. Your son is curious and clever enough to learn more about it, and based on what I’ve overheard, he’s asking all the right questions and even getting some answers. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that he’s endeared himself to the creature.”
She frowned even further at than, causing Fresk to sigh. He pulled off his helmet, looking directly into her eyes. To her credit, she didn’t flinch. People usually did.
“Look. Like it or not, our plan isn’t exactly a castle rampart. It’s fragile enough that we still might all die. But even in that scenario, Mirri wouldn’t. Whether it’s as a friend, apprentice, adopted child, or even as a pet, Mirri will be able to survive this one way or another. Gruesome and miserable as that fate is, I assure you that it’s better than being killed and eaten by something beyond your comprehension.”
Deep down she understood, but it wasn’t easy to admit it. It never is easy to accept that you are very likely to die and to plan around that. I couldn’t do it, that’s why—
“Here’s my backup plan, Fresk. You’re an adventurer, retired or not. When we get back you send a message for the guild with a small but pleading reward. Then, even if we die, someone will try to free my son from that monster.”
Neither her tone nor her eyes allowed for him to decline. How could he? But they also didn’t let him tell her how hopeless that would be. How no one in their right mind would take up a mission so dangerous for a reward meager enough for them to offer it.
So, he just nodded. Larese looked at him again, a vicious mixture of emotions too far from her face to isolate them individually.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Perhaps it was dominated by anger at the situation, or hopelessness and despair at the bleakness of it. He suspected there was also a little disgust at the hollow shell of a man in front of her.
It didn’t matter really.
She walked back to the others while Fresk put his helmet on before doing the same. No, all that did matter was that they did whatever it took to make the creature see them as more valuable alive than dead. It all rested on tomorrow, and Fresk could do nothing for now but wait.
----------------------------------------
“Hey Mister Chef.”
Patience is not a trait common in a goblin, nor was it terribly valuable in one. If a goblin got annoyed with another goblin, it was usually good enough reason to go for murder or at least a good maiming. Regardless, Chef was really patient for a goblin. Incredibly so. After all, he’d gone years without killing a single one.
Well, at least until he wiped out almost his entire clan in an afternoon. But that’s the definition of patience, isn’t it? At least it is for a goblin.
“What are you gonna do after we get to Tubersville?”
Patience so incredible that he wouldn’t kill a single one of these awful creatures until he had his flour. Wait, what did the small one say?
“Tubersville?”
It nodded along excitedly, swinging kicking feet from the front of the wagon as it stared off into the distance. Contemplating some plan, no doubt, the creature’s eyes and mind often wandered in that direction. Not that it had ever told him, but Chef was good at inferring.
“It’s where I’m from. Where we’re from, everyone but Fresk that is. But he doesn’t count.”
A big smile was plastered on its face as it discounted the hard work of a broken man. Casual cruelty at its finest. That or ignorance if one were to believe the feigning the little bugger insisted on, but Chef was far too clever to fall for that.
“Take flour and bake.”
The creature turned back to look at him, called from its inner wondering.
Or is it wandering? Hard to tell, honestly.
“Oh, we’ve been thinking about starting up our own mill. Been overhearing people talking about it. Town’s pretty young so we don’t have one yet. You know, my gran helped found it actually. I’m a pretty big deal there, so you better not get too used to having me around. I’m what my mom calls a ‘hot commodity.’”
Arms on hips, chest puffed out, eyes closed, Mirri had all the markings of a pack leader in their element. Perhaps humans have an inverted society compared to goblins? Chief was the biggest goblin in the cave after all, and so was the chief before him.
But humans are weak and stupid, meaning intellect must be of higher importance considering their average member. The small one, while not physically dangerous, would surely make for a frightening foe if angered. More so than the metal man, certainly.
“You’re supposed to say something at that.”
It glanced sideways at him, eyes judging as its nose wrinkled from the smell. It had remarkable endurance, or it had just gotten used to it. Either were possible, but rotting flesh was not a pleasant smell, and Chef hadn’t done the best job of cleaning the pelt. Oh well, too late now. He couldn’t exactly take it off and show his green skin to these people, otherwise he’d have to search the whole town for the flour.
“Hey.”
That would be a pain.
“Hey mister Chef.”
Almost as much of a pain as this was.
“You’re not very talkative, are you?”
And now it even began to openly taunt him.
“That’s ok, I can talk for both of us.”
Truly his patience was being put to the test.
“What are you going to bake when you’ve got the flour? I’ve made a bread before, but dad can make some really cool things. And they’re really tasty!”
Wait, what was that now?
“Your dad bakes?”
Blonde hair fluttered in the breeze as Mirri looked far into the horizon. With trees to their left, empty hills to their right, and the sun overhead, the only vista worth observing was the open road before them. The creature often did exactly that, some distant place the subject of its mental wandering. Or was it wondering? Perhaps Chef should just ask at this point.
“He doesn’t get to often, usually just for special occasions. But if we got our own mill, we could bake all the time! And then dad could teach me his recipes, secret techniques, and everything else! Then I wouldn’t have to be a stupid merchant…”
The last sentence was under its breath, nearly silent from a lifetime of practice. But Chef had big numbers and big numbers don’t care about silly things like that. Big numbers mean he could hear from outrageous distances or make a disgusting looking goop into a delicious masterpiece, so overhearing a whisper a few feet away was simple enough.
Not that he actually cared for what he heard. In the whisper at least. A baker with secret techniques and recipes though, now that was very interesting. Maybe they would know the secret of making something that wasn’t a goopy mess!
“You will take me to this dad.”
Mirri looked too excited at the recommendation. This had likely been an elaborate trap, a ruse by the brilliant small thing to get him to think this was his idea all along.
“Ok! You’re both chefs so I’m sure you’ll get along. And you could show each other stuff and teach me stuff too!”
Of course, it wanted to trade knowledge all along, so why wouldn’t it insist on more of the same.
“Fine. I will trade with this dad and teach Mirri. But I need flour.”
It beamed at him happily as it thrust a hand in his direction. It stopped about a foot away, and incidentally half a foot before Chef would have summoned a cooking fire at max heat. The thing really insisted on playing such dangerous games. Looking down, he tilted his head at the gesture.
“It’s a handshake. Here, you put your hand out like this, and you grab like that. Now we shake, up and down. That means we’ve made a deal!”
It showed him the moves while guiding his hand covered in the wolf paw through it, smiling all the while. Of course it was, he could feel the activation of a skill as it progressed. The creature had locked him into some contract through use of physical contact as a medium.
“We’ll get to Tubersville tonight or tomorrow morning I bet, and when we do, you’ll make good on your promise! Between you and my dad I’ll become the best Chef ever!”
A bold claim that proved why Chef was so cautious around the creature. Never before had he met someone or something that wanted to be a Chef. Himself excluded of course. Why, he’d assumed that becoming the best at something would be easy if no one else wanted to do it.
But that was no longer the case. This dreadful handshake had locked him into a scenario where he had to give if he wanted to receive. In other words, it was a nightmare. Why would a goblin give before they take? Goblins only take!
And how long can I do this without showing my hand? Literally. It’s green!
Grimacing under his rotting wolf head, Chef began to plot and plan even more. Thoughts on how to get a better, more permanent disguise. Or questions like if he could craft a goop that would color him human. Plots and plans using his pots and pans, and no time at all to implement any of them.
He could see the town in the distance.