“Stop.”

The wagons slowed to a halt as Fresk continued forward without them. They were just outside the town walls at this point, if they could even be called that.

In an environment as inhospitable as this one, even a village of a few hundred people needed a wall of some kind to survive. But with their numbers so low and a lack of sufficient stone nearby, the citizens of Tubersville had opted to build a wooden wall everywhere but where the road came in. If they couldn’t afford to man the walls, they’d just funnel the attackers instead.

Fresk nodded towards the two men guarding the entrance to the town as they waved at him. Their equipment and abilities were far below his own, but their spears and positioning made them a fearsome enemy for any wolf brave enough to attack them.

“Welcome back, Fresk. Something the matter with the caravan?”

He knew he’d be getting questioned at every step of the way, but the goal was to minimize panic as much as possible. Otherwise, some young upstart too brave for their own good might take matters into their own hands.

“Something like that. Is the chief in his house?”

They straightened up slightly. Not exactly military men these two, but they knew how to recognize a problem quickly and were experienced enough to prepare for it.

“Should be. We’ll keep an eye out here.”

Fresk nodded and continued into town. It looked like just any other day. Kids were playing, parents were rounding them up for dinner, and everything was peaceful. Fresk grit his teeth under his helmet.

I won’t let that change. Not here.

Having reached his destination, Fresk knocked on the door.

“Come in!”

He followed the voice into the house, and watched as disappointment swiftly found the old man’s face.

“I was expecting Larese. Why isn’t she here reporting to me?”

Fresk sighed, knowing this wouldn’t be easy.

“Everyone is fine for now, but there’s been a complication. A dangerous monster decided to tag along. It’s with the caravan now.”

“What?! Do you mean to tell me that you’ve left my grandson with some monster?! Gods, what were you thinking, Fresk?!”

The chief stormed out of his home, ignoring Fresk along the way as he made for the town entrance.

“Mr. Collis, sir. They are in no immediate danger, but that is only because we bargained with the creature. If we return to it without what it wants, then our safety cannot be guaranteed.”

He stopped and turned, rage in his eyes.

“What have you bartered in return for our lives, Fresk? While you were supposed to be protecting them, did you sell our people out?”

Fresk shook his head and took off his helmet. It unsettled most, but so did wearing heavy armor all the time. A difficult balance really, but at least the chief didn’t flinch at the sight of his face.

“No. The creature promised to let us be in return for flour.”

There was silence at that. The street had managed to clear rather swiftly when the screaming old man took to it. They hadn’t been subtle and so the response to them wasn’t either. So once both of them stopped, one to let the other consider and the other out of shock and disbelief, the world went quiet.

“Are you fucking with me, Fresk?”

Disbelief first, then.

“I assure you that I am not. If we do not gather all our flour and give enough to it now, we will all die. If we give it everything now and cannot give it more later, we will all die. This is a delicate situation where, ridiculous as it may sound, our lives hang in the balance of how much flour we can promise the creature without angering it while keeping some for future bargaining. Failure is not an option.”

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The disbelief wore off as the old man began to think. He was smart, that much was true, and they hadn’t been entirely idle these past few nights. So Fresk shared what plans they’d come up with during the journey, and after some back and forth, they had their solution. The chief began to round everyone up, pulling them from their evening routines with resolve in his eyes.

“Everyone, bring me all the flour we have in this entire village right now. Do not delay and do not leave your homes afterwards until morning.”

They got to work as the chief looked back at him.

“We’ll hide half and give it the rest. It will have to be enough. Make sure Larese is present for negotiations. This will be the most dangerous trade of our lifetimes.”

----------------------------------------

“Hey, Mr. Chef?”

The glow dimmed to nothing shortly after it began. Again. When he considered how the small creature connived into getting future apprenticeship from him, it felt much like it did now.

“Whatcha think they’re doing? Why do ya think it’s takin so long?”

It had begun to speak with increasing informality, testing his ability to learn and adapt on the fly. An exercise in frustration not unlike any other dealings with the small being. Chef, not for the first time, contemplated strangling the life out of it then and there.

Just a minute of force on that tiny, slender, begging to be squeezed neck. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?

“I don’t know.”

An answer to both of their questions.

“Finding flour. Talking about me.”

“Hmmm, I guess that makes sense. You are pretty weird after all. Must be why people talk about you so much.”

Chef found their discussions to be below his concern. Even from here he could tell that the tensed guards outside the town were as much a threat to him as any of the others in this band of wagons. That is to say no threat at all.

Presumably they’d come up with some plan to deal with him or remove him permanently, and he would just be forced to kill them all and take their flour for himself.

That or they were as cowed as they seemed and he’d get everything he wanted. And then he’d kill them all and take their flour. After learning some more recipe’s from Mirri’s dad of course.

It’s important to have priorities.

“Oh, hey they’re heading over.”

That they were. The metal man wandered over and began barking orders that Chef didn’t care enough to listen to. Eventually he and a long-haired human approached him. He’d almost assume it to be a female if it weren’t for how few breasts there were. Perhaps their kind couldn’t even produce more than two children at a time?

What inferior creatures.

“Alright. We’ve got the flour but our village chief wanted to give it to you himself. He’s just up this way.”

Perhaps it was a trap, or perhaps it really was meant to be this straightforward. Honestly it was hard to tell with these people. They were stupid enough for both!

“Have fun! Good luck!”

Mirri waved to him after he’d walked less than three feet. He stopped, turning to look at the small human. The others nearby looked at him and he suspected it was concern on their face as he did so. So he decided challenge them ever so slightly.

“Come, Mirri.”

“Okay!”

The small being responded before anyone else could, but both the old person summoned from the village and the perhaps woman turned pale at the scene. He thought they did at least. With skin that shade it was hard to tell.

So much easier to know when a goblin was frightened. Mostly due to the scrambling and crying they did. And the begging. Really, goblins were much more transparent about their feelings in general. Stupid humans.

He reached their group shortly with Mirri in tow. They were quiet at first, which was annoying. Why call him if they had nothing to say?

“Speak.”

The wrinkly one trembled slightly thanks to their proximity. Or it could have been its attire. The hooded whatever it was that it wore seemed not quite long enough to reach its feet which must be allowing the cold in. Humans and their frail constitution.

“We have brought you flour. In return we ask that you leave our village be.”

The wrinkles spoke, and a noise came from Chef that he was quite familiar with by now. So was the small one. However, these three had limited exposure to goblin hunger and the war it entails. The metal man might have heard a scuffle or two, but his stomach was starting a coup inside his belly, and the competition was being demolished.

That is to say that a massive rumble close to a roar came from him unbidden.

Mirri giggled as the others shook slightly. It seemed like as good a time as any.

“No. Not good enough.”

He hadn’t even been shown how much flour it was but that didn’t matter. They knew they’d try to cheat him just as they knew that he knew. Negotiations were a game. In goblin society, the losers were often dead. And eaten, of course, because why wouldn’t they be.

The wrinkled one produced a woven basket containing the heavenly material within. There was no top for the container, an obvious power play to demonstrate that it could be dumped or jostled to oblivion should he make a move.

Another test.

He moved faster than they could respond, grabbed the basket, and made it disappear into the breadbox.

Everyone, even the small one inhaled sharply at that.

“Wow! You really are super strong!”

Mirri called their attention back to reality as Chef smiled below his mask.

“Now then. Try again.”

He would milk them for everything they had or die trying. After all, he was a goblin.