Francis Miller was a knight who had the unfortunate duty of patrolling the Dark Forest to check on the goblin population within. It was mostly a formality, as goblins only became hostile if they had a Great One who wanted them to be. What made the patrol unfortunate was the Dark Forest itself. The forest was unpleasant on the feet just as much as it was on the eyes. There were surprise swamps hidden underneath the matting of rotted moss that clung to the forest floor and many more dangers had had to be avoided.
He couldn’t wait until his patrol service was over. Only a few more months. He had been telling that to himself like a mantra. As he was patrolling, Francis came upon some goblins near the outer edge of the forest, arguing over a flower.
“The nectar is sweet and delicious.”
“It is too dangerous. Not the sugar Great Mother asked for.”
“Great Mother said anything sweet and delicious is good.”
“That nectar is sweet and dangerous, not delicious,” the goblin argued.
The knight felt his heartbeat quicken at the conversation. A Great One had appeared! And she wanted sugar? Sugar was something that humans were famous for processing. Was it a declaration against the human lands? No, he couldn’t jump to conclusions. Either way, this was something he had to report.
There was just one problem. He had never actually been told how he was supposed to report. For the many years they had patrolled this forest, no one had ever had to. Figuring he should at least tell someone, he carefully retreated from the Dark Forest to the outpost he was assigned. This was not what he imagined when he became a soldier of Zyrk.
As he approached the outpost the watchman, his colleague of two years, called out to him. “Back early today! Did Something happen?”
“Yes,” he answered, his tone sounding more grave than he intended, “I overheard the goblins discussing something concerning in the forest.”
The watchman frowned and quickly waved him in, banging the particular gong that represented important news. After the sound, no one got in Francis’s way as he hurried to find someone to report his findings to. Luckily, he was quickly able to find someone important looking enough to pass along the message of what he heard.
“Write it down,” the official ordered before Francis could say a word, “All reports must be delivered in written form to prevent misinformation.”
Francis scrambled to find the correct parchment and a writing utensil, feeling a sudden pressure. Would the exact words he wrote make it up the totem pole? What if he made some sort of grammatical error and they took away his knightage? Worse, what if the king of Zyrk somehow read it and banished him for reporting useless things?
Hand trembling, Francis wrote exactly what he heard, terrified to do anything that could be considered outside of the handbook for the proper knight’s report. Despite his trembling, his handwriting miraculously came out as clean and neat. The official looked over at his report as he wrote it with a frown.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“A Great One who wants sugar? This is definitely something that must be reported.”
That was good, at least. Francis didn’t have to worry about bothering the higher ups with something useless. Hopefully they would be focused on the importance of the information, not the makeup of his report. It was too late to worry about things now. The official took the report the moment the ink dried, passing it along the correct channels. It seemed, unlike Francis, he knew exactly what to do with it.
Report finished, Francis was left with another issue to ponder over. What was he meant to do now? Luckily, he didn’t have to think it over for long. His main superior quickly summoned him to the heart of the outpost.
“Francis!” he greeted, and quickly brought him in, “Is everything you wrote in your report true?”
“It is,” Francis promised, nervous about where this might lead.
His superior frowned as he looked over the report. “And you are certain they said ‘Great Mother’ and not ‘Great One’?”
“I am,” Francis answered. He was only getting more anxious as this went on. Was a Great Mother worse than a Great One? Surely he would have been told about that, right?
“And it wasn’t grandmother?” his superior checked.
“It was not,” Francis reported again. He now felt a bit of shame. What if they had just been talking about a grandmother and he took it too far? Would they cancel his report if he asked? No, they would probably send it through, just in case.
“Good,” his superior said, looking relieved, “The last thing we need to worry about is a goblin elder. Most goblins are naive, like children.”
It took a moment for Francis to understand after the whiplash of conclusions he had been through. So a goblin grandmother was a threat, but not the same kind of threat as a Great One. But why did his superior seem more concerned about this goblin elder?
Seeing his confusion, his superior explained. “Great Ones can be reasoned with. We can make deals, calm their ire, and win peace with the goblins through them. Goblin elders are goblins. They are set in their ways, and as they are goblins it is difficult for most races to continuously approach them.”
Francis still didn’t really see the difference between the two scenarios. “Couldn’t an elder still be reasoned with?”
“Technically, yes, but it is too much trouble. Last time I found one, they sent down an extermination request.”
“Do I need to go back in there and confirm what it is?” Francis asked, already feeling a sense of dread sinking into him.
“No. That is a job for the capital to decide. If it really is a Great One, we can’t be caught meddling.”
Francis left far more confused than he had entered, but glad things were well out of his hands now. On the bright side, his patrol duties for the foreseeable future were over and done with. Now all he had to worry about were the effects of his report.
==========
Gobby and Gubby came bursting through the doorway as Gertrude was showing a few of the other children how to peel potatoes. They were both a bit dirty, slightly scuffed up, and seemed exhausted.
“We couldn’t find sugar,” Gubby reported.
“We found nectar, but Gubby says it's dangerous,” Gobby complained.
It looked like the two of them had been arguing about this for some time. Gertrude set down the potato she was peeling and faced them. “I told you before, there is no need to rush. I will be fine even if we don’t find sugar. Think of all the other treasures you have brought me.”
The children looked down. She knew they only wanted to impress her, so she couldn’t be harsh on them. Besides, they had given her a place to stay, and done everything she had asked.
“I had another idea,” Gobby said a little hesitantly.
“That’s even more dangerous,” Gubby argued.
“But the humans won’t have anything against a human,” Gobby pointed out, “If we obtain money we can buy sugar.”
Humans? It took Gertrude by surprise that she had never even considered a human settlement being nearby. Still, just because they were humans, didn’t mean they were safe. If Gobby was right, though, they were cultured enough to have sugar that could be bought. It was something she would have to think about, but not yet.
“To get money you must sell things or do a job for someone with money to give you,” she told Gobby, “I will not accept money that is taken in other ways. Do you understand?”
Gobby quickly nodded. “Sorry, Great Mother.”
Before she could say anything else, he hurried off to wash up with Gubby close behind. She was glad all of the children were working hard to keep themselves clean now. The progress, though it may be slight, gave Gertrude a sense of purpose. It was nice to feel needed again.