“I don’t know what you were expecting, Sara.” Mark asked, irritation stirring to anger. “That, what? You spring this on me with literal hours to spare and I’d be ecstatic?”
“It’s your kid.” She grunted, the nurse shooting him an angry look. He ignored her. “Did a test and everything, in my bag.”
He didn’t ask when he pulled it out, earning him an even worse glare from the nurse, and looked at it. “Ignoring how you broke several laws in getting my DNA, this really isn’t the point I’m trying to make.”
“Perhaps you should wait outside, sir.” The nurse all but ordered, putting a hand on his shoulder. He grabbed it with more force than he meant to, gripping her hand in his own.
“Do not touch me. I recognize this is not the time, but she had months to inform me. Call, email, anything. She knows where I live, the people I hang out with. If she didn't want to have this talk now, that's on her.“
“It's your kid.” She repeated. “I don’t want it, so either you take it or it goes to foster care.”
Now the nurse was shooting her a look, disbelieving. Mark felt the same, and didn’t resist when the nurse gently pushed him outside.
“I don’t even recognize her.” He said blandly.
“Do you know her full name?” The woman asked, hopeful. “We need it for insurance.”
Mark contemplated that, looking at the closed door. “You know what, I think I’ve forgotten her name completely.”
----------------------------------------
“So it wasn’t something I said.” Mark determined when no one answered. “That’s good. Solves everything, really. Oh wait, no it doesn’t. Get up, the lot of you. Wrath, don’t even think about it.”
Wrath looked at him, scowling, but let go of her axe. Sloth approached the rising group slowly, healing their wounds when they didn’t resist. Mark approved. ‘Scars, bites, cuts and bruises. Hard life, that’s for sure.’
“Alright, you, what’s your name?”
He pointed to their spokesperson, the goblin twice as nervous and shuffling uncertainty. “Kreek. Ah, my name is Kreek, mighty chosen.’
“We were dropped here about, what, a month ago? Assuming we know nothing, what’s a chosen?”
“Oh. Uhhmn, a chosen is one of the chosen.” Kreek swallowed. “A chosen from the gods. Seven rise for evil, Seven for good. War will consume the land until one side wins, then it repeats decades later.”
“Has a nice ring to it.” Lust muttered, Kreek snapping his head at her. “I assume we’re the evil seven? You might have a problem if we’re the good guys, honestly.”
Kreek nodded his head rapidly. “Yes. But we are goblins, loyal to the mighty seven.”
“I see.” Mark said, not seeing in the slightest. “So there are seven others out there, gearing up to kill us? With the backing from some church, I’d imagine.”
“I. I would never dare speculate.” The goblin demurred, more afraid than modest. “But the church collapsed centuries ago. We have not heard of any young chosen, mighty ones.”
“But you said once every few decades.” Pride asked, more gentle than Mark thought him capable of. “A big war and all, can’t really miss that.
“How many evil chosen were found last time? Before us, I mean.” Mark asked, before Kreek could answer Pride. He had the feeling he knew the answer.
“Four, mighty Gluttony.” Kreek said, swallowing. “That is what the tablets say.”
“And the good guys?”
“Six, mighty Gluttony.”
“Your point?” Pride asked.
Mark didn’t answer, the fingers of his regrown hand tapping his leg. “How many times did you get close to dying? Before we linked up and Greed could outfit us. Before Sloth could heal us?”
The man shrugged. “Couple times. We do heal, as all humans do.”
“And if you hadn’t found Sloth early? If she had been the one to be found last, or not at all?”
Wrath grunted. “They come every few decades, but die before they can be found. Without a church, much the same happened to the heroes. Great.”
“The heroes were found forty years ago, mighty Wrath.” Kreek said, excited despite his fear. “Without the other seven to fight they split up, became warlords and adventurers. Great legends were made.”
Horror dawned on Greed's face. “Please tell me they're dead?”
Kreek shook his head, ears flopping. “Three are still alive. Or they were, last time we got news from down the mountains. Travel goblins don’t fare well down there.”
“Jesus christ.” Lust cursed. Kreek snapped his head at her, fascinated. “Jesus fucking christ.”
Mark agreed. “They should be old now, though? Less active?”
“I do not know.” Kreek shrugged. “Like I said, travel goblins don’t fare well down the mountain.”
The little green thing winced, afraid, but relaxed when none of them did anything. “We have shelter in the village, homes cleared out. Only two.”
He sounded genuinely regretful, as a host might have. Mark agreed before anyone could complain, and the group started moving. The warriors took positions around them, something Wrath and Envy didn’t like much, but after a few seconds they relaxed. Noticing what he had. ‘Guarding, not herding. Loyal to the mighty seven, though he didn’t say which ones.’
“It’s not much.” Kreek explained, gesturing to the village. Mark would have disagreed, for politeness sake if nothing else, but found he couldn't. It really wasn’t much. “But what we have is yours.”
Pride clapped his hands, making Kreek yelp and the guards tense. “Sounds fantastic. Gluttony, you go play with your new friends. Me and Wrath are going on a hunt. Envy, you too.”
“Condescending asshole.” Lust muttered, loud enough for the goblins to hear. They kept silent on the matter. “Well, better they leave anyway.”
Sloth yawned. “He has the right idea, actually. Not the hunting, that was awful, but this isn’t my scene. I’ll nap in one of the houses, yell if you need me.”
“I’ll join her. Set up a shop.” Greed ambled after her. “Got the feeling this is going to be very profitable.”
Kreek didn’t look the slightest bit happy the party was splitting. The goblin smiled when he looked at him, though, so Mark didn’t comment on it. “Ignore them. You can barter with Greed, if you like. He can make almost anything, though don’t let him rip you off. Sloth can heal, if you have sick.”
One of the guards left without a word, Lust's eyes tracking him. Her voice drifted to his ear, so quiet he could barely understand it. “Divided political structure. Primitive, maybe, but they have culture.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, Kreek, I really don’t, but why hasn’t anyone taken a building skill? A class, even, if those exist for construction? Even with just wood and mud it's not that hard to make a good house. Plenty of stone, too.”
Kreek shook his head. Frustration appeared on his face. “We cannot. We are monsters.”
“Alright.” Mark said, confused. “So? That's just a word, right? You speak language, have thoughts and self awareness. Sentience and long term planning?”
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
The goblin looked at him with defeated eyes, gesturing around. “We are monsters. Deemed so by the gods, no matter how we strive. We have tried fighting giants, building monuments and sacrificing goats. We did not earn their favour in twenty five hundred years, not when we ruled vast hordes or huddled in damp caves.”
“So fuck the gods. Unless they are, you know, actually real? As in, will casually come down to earth and smite me for blasphemy?”
A smile creeped on Kreek’s face, shaking his head. “No. I know some of the gods of your world, from records and stories. Here they are not men floating in the clouds, living on mountains. They are the wind and stone, oceans and fire. They are the dead and forgotten. Stories and dreams. It does not translate well.”
“Translate?” Lust asked, her eyes roving around. “You mean they can’t understand us?”
Kreek shook his head. “I learned when I was young. A story keeper, one who learns the old records. Wasn’t much good at anything else, and a tribe as small as ours doesn’t have room for those that don’t contribute.”
“Information is important.” Mark said offhandedly, his mind looking over the buildings again. “Now, to be honest, I’m not a builder. I know some, though, if you’re interested? Good shelter is one of the most important things for long term survival.”
The goblin smiled, saying something to one of the guards. The guard hesitated, but left. “That would be greatly appreciated, mighty chosen.”
“You can pay me back right now.” Kreek nodded, a slightly apprehensive look on his face. “Stop calling me mighty chosen. Gluttony will do.”
“Gluttony.” Kreek repeated, smiling. “I will do so. Ah, here comes my apprentice.”
A little thing came running up, barely breaking two feet in height, and bowed deeply before him. Lust smiled as the child bowed to her in turn, her face flickering to his. Mark smirked, making her turn with a huff. “I’ll go catch us some dinner. Pride was kind enough to leave our stuff behind, for once, so you can set up your kitchen.”
“How do you even know” She disappeared, Mark sighing. “that. Hello.”
“I am Hera.” She pronounced with great care. “I am please to meet your.”
“You.” Kreek corrected. He shot Mark a smile. “She’s still learning. Her writing is better than mine, though, so I’ll have her make notes?”
Mark nodded, shrugging, and Hera got out a pencil. He snapped his fingers, making her jump. “Charcoal writing implements. Paper, even, if rough. Made from bark, if what crafting is telling me is correct. I’ve been fighting alot of monsters these last few weeks, Kreek. You’re not it.”
“Kind, but the gods disagree. Please, if you have thoughts to share we would love to hear them.”
“Sure. I assume you’re already digging the support beams into the ground?”
A nod. “Cool. Then. Wait. If you can make paper, of all things, and pencils, how come the houses are that bad?”
“We learned from old tablets.” Kreek answered, not seeming insulted. Hera snorted, spewing an unintelligible sound at her mentor. “She is saying it was me that learned it from old tablets. That is true, but not the point. They said nothing about building.”
Mark looked around, having ignored the group huddled around them until now. They cringed back when he looked at them, only the guards managing not to show fear. Even then they gripped their weapons more tightly, averting their eyes. “Oh. Your intelligence isn’t the norm, is it, Kreek?”
“Sadly not. Hera was the smartest of her generation, I of mine. We lack the natural ferocity, make for bad hunters. Always one, to learn the language and teach the next. I have done what I could to write everything down, just in case, but paper only lasts so long. My predecessor, four times removed, learned from nothing but tablets. She spoke to one of the seven, Chastity, which is the only reason she recovered the pronunciations. It took most of her life.”
“Jesus. Alright. Tools?”
“Stone. All the iron we can bargain for, the rare chances when we can, goes to the warriors. Hunters. Another word that does not translate well. It means the same.”
“I see. What can you make? Something that takes time, effort. Cured leather, made into armour, that kind of thing?”
“We have a carver? He makes the handles for the tools and weapons.”
“That’ll do. He can trade with Greed for axes and saws and the like. Wooden hammers are fine, don’t waste your resources, and tell Greed I said to not rip them off?”
Kreek spoke to another of the guards, leaving just three, and the man left after looking at him suspiciously. Mark sighed. “You’re not in charge, are you?”
“I am. I am not. As the only adult to speak the language this task falls to me, but the hunt captain speaks for the hunters. Ordering one of her people around won’t make me friends, but she never liked me to begin with. I’ll take proper shelter over her affection.”
He snorted, clapping Kreek on the shoulder. “I feel you. Think you can find me a work crew?”
Two hours later found Lust walking back into the village with a deer slung over her shoulder, Mark correcting one of the goblins. “Legs wide! If the axe misses it’ll take your foot. You, make sure you have space before swinging that thing. You, good job. Make sure those poles are deep, and pack in the dirt tight when it's done.”
Kreek translated as he stalked around them, Lust dropping the deer on his kitchen. He walked over, turning it ninety degrees so he could watch them as he butchered. She smirked at him. “Having fun?”
“Like pissing blood.” He complained, picking up the cleaver. One chop and the deer lost its head, finding it had blue flesh. “The hell is this thing?”
“No clue. Spits water, not fun. One of your minions is misbehaving.” Mark shot his head around, seeing she was right.
“Put that axe down.” He ordered, his tone dangerous. “Go help the diggers. If you can’t use one responsibly you don’t get to use it at all.”
Mark turned back to the deer as Kreek descended on the goblin. “Edible?”
It was Hera that answered, nodding her slightly too large head. It looked positively adorable. “Meat good, very taste when smoked. Mighty Lust is a god hunter.”
“I am rather goddess-like.” Lust preened. “Don’t you think, Glut?”
“No. What the hell is this organ?” He put it aside, smacking Hera’s hand when she reached for it. She pouted, Lust glared. “See if I hunt you dinner again. Ungrateful.”
“I’m too busy to deal with your need for attention.” He condescended, delighting when she spluttered. His eyes flicker to her hand. “If you stab me you’ll have to eat it raw!”
She put her knife away, considering, then pulled it again. Mark eyed it warily. “Brutish, resorting to violence so quickly. I’d take it from you, but that would mean I can't watch them.”
Kreek was doing most of the work, truthfully, keeping the crew from killing themselves and each other, but he lacked the authority. They listened to Mark, if for no other reason than the fact he towered over them, but he couldn't speak the language. Annoying.
“Oh for.” He hurried over, seeing two of the guards where trying to take the steel axes away. The crew Kreek had assembled weren’t happy with that, huddling close. “Lust, make sure no one steals the meat? Kreek, the fuck are they saying?”
Hera was right behind him, translating as Kreek argued. “Hunt captain says metal belongs to her. Orders hunters to take.”
The group stilled as he arrived, glowering at them. One stood out, standing a little further back and inspecting the edge of an axe. “That her?”
Kreek nodded. One of the workers took advantage of the distracted guards to snatch his hammer back, walking off to continue driving the pole into the ground. Mark was about to speak when his status pinged.
Goblin Heistima can be awoken. She will be awoken as Builder. Continue?
Mark hesitated. ‘Yes?’
Heistima dropped her hammer mid swing, squeaking in surprise. Mark turned to the captain, seeing a mean glint in her eye. “Kreek, translate?”
Kreek nodded. “Thank you. Those aren’t weapons. Not weapons, not part of the hunters. The tools belong to them. Kreek?”
He turned, the captain hissing something that his guide didn’t bother to translate. He knew the captain’s type unfortunately well. Arguing with them accomplished nothing. “Heistima here is a builder now?”
Kreek shrugged at his questioning tone, conversing with the builder. The goblin was looking rapidly between the poles, muttering mostly to herself. Kreek turned to him, eyes wide. “She says she has been awoken. That she knows how to build, now, and that we’re doing it all wrong. What did you do?”
Mark grinned at his confrontational tone, seeing Heistima herd the others together and pointing at the soon-to-be house. ‘Good. Not like I know how to build one of these things.’
“Haven’t the slightest clue. Got a message that she could be awoken as a builder. Don’t suppose your tablets say anything about that?”
Kreek shook his head, too confused to be servile. Good. “About elite monsters aiding the Seven, becoming stronger or gaining power? Yes. About goblins?”
He shrugged, seeing the dots connect and idea’s forming. He cut that off at the pass. “Can’t control it. Don’t know how to, but I guess it triggered because she really likes building? Can you ask if she got a feature? Should be the only thing she has, right now, when she pulls up her status.”
It was Hera that asked, Kreek excusing himself to stalk over to the captain. Her guards tried to block him, backing off when he hissed. ‘Good for him. Now, god, kindly don’t let this blow up in my face? Because I totally have a plan, and I’m not making this shit up as I go.’
“Heistima says she has ‘an eye for making’. Hera spoke, nearly making him jump. He was strangely glad Lust had been doing it so much, training him to maintain his cool. Externally, anyway.
“That’s good.” Probably true. “I assume she’s taking charge of the work crew?”
Hera nodded, backing off when the captain and Kreek came marching up. Kreek seemed slightly panicked. “She would like to request her and the hunters hunt with you, mighty Gluttony. She is hopeful some will become worthy and be awoken.”
Mark took in the way her jaw set, how her eyes shifted and her hands were carefully not touching her sword. ‘Asking. Sure.’
“I would be happy to.” He said, shifting his posture. The captain eyed him warily. “But since we don’t speak the same language, and Kreek or Hera won’t be coming with us, we will have to communicate with some simple hand gestures. It’ll mean I’m in charge, if only for as long the hunt lasts. Will that be a problem?”
Her stance hardened as Kreek translated, giving a curt nod at the end. She stuck her hand out, grunting. “Killara.”
He shook it with a smile, hoping he wasn’t making a horrid mistake. “Call me Gluttony.”