Chapter 161

Monster

Chance of Mutiny: 95%

The past days had been some of the worst in my whole life. I didn’t mean to be hated by everyone. It was an accident. I thought I did a good job trying everything I could to be an Admiral and manage mutiny at the same time. What was I supposed to do? Let everyone walk over me? I tried to draw the line and stick up for myself and assert my command without hurting my goblins. There was nothing left to do. When I felt the first two tears run down my cheeks, I couldn't stop the rest from quietly following them.

[WARNING. Take immediate action to reduce Chance of Mutiny.]

But it was too late.

Gloom-glower stomped up until we were twenty paces from each other.

“It’s over, Barnacle-cries. Where’s your hoard? In the forecastle? Hand over the key. To all your goblins, come work for me! I’m here to rescue you, as I’m sure you’ve heard all about what Barnacle-lies is really up to. Moldy cheese poisonings! Boiling water poachings!” To his goblins he said, “Have I ever poisoned or poached any of you?”

They all gave one big “No”, and there were a couple of late little “No”s in there too.

“Have I ever ground any of you up into meatballs?”

Not a single snot spoke up. Goblins turned this way and that as if they were looking for they who had been meatballed.

“Hmm?” continued Gloom-glower. “Speak up. Speak up if I’ve ever ground you into a meatball.”

Once again, not a goblin spoke up.

“Well, you didn’t grind me into a meatball,” said a goblin.

“Ah! There, you see?” said Gloom-glower. To my goblins he said, “You poor snots have had to grind through so much of that she-devil’s abuse, haven’t you?”

My entire crew scanned themselves. They lifted their arms and legs to check their limbs as if any evidence that they’d been ground into meatballs would have been there.

“Eyes on me,” said Gloom-glower. “Gimme a nod. Yes, just like that. Nod, nod, nod. Good, very good. Isn’t it easy? Why I bet everybody here can nod.”

It wasn’t only the goblins on my crew that nodded. Gloom-glower’s goblins nodded, and even Stub-toes eagerly nodded.

“There you have it,” the goblin king said. “Proof.”

“That’s horrible, my king,” said Stub-toes.

“Don’t interrupt, Stub-toes! I can’t have these goblins miss any more of the atrocities that Barnacle-lies has been covering up. But fear not, disfigured ones, I’ll take you all in. Defect onto my fleet, and I’ll keep her from ever grinding you up again.”

“You’re so kind, my king! But they all look fine to me—”

“Quiet, Stub-toes! The point is that I don’t churn goblins into meatballs. All this giant onion business is a lie. She’s really feeding you goblin meatballs!”

Little-Whitler, who had come from Spickle-Spack’s galleon spit out a mouthful of onion mush. He stepped back, screeched like a moth had landed in his mouth, and scraped his tongue with his fingernails. He promptly fainted back into catching arms, whose owners glared at me.

A loud and long line of beer splashed from my Crow’s nest. Beer splattered on deck and foamed across the floorboards. I recognized the weird color of the beer. It was a dreambon ale. Boggo held the bottle aloft upside down, and he was shaking it vigorously.

A sharp white gash appeared in the air. It opened like an oval had just been poked into transparent paper. Thrush stepped through. All of Gloom-glower’s goblins took eleven steps back. Even Gloom-glower shuffled back.

“Hello,” said Thrush.

I was surprised to see my own crew shrink back too. They had just shared cheese and smoked meats with us the other day! What was with the sudden change? Did they come to hate him too? Was that my fault? They hated me so much that it spread to my friends?

“They’re attacking Barnacle-eyes!” said Boggo. “It’s Gloom-glower! He’s attacking!”

Ella appeared bright and round beside Boggo. Stumble-not was there too and standing upon the rungs of a peg ladder just below the threshold of the crow’s nest. The besties pointed at Gloom-glower with fingers as tiny as baby birds’ beaks. Stumble-not furiously pointed with them.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“What are you doing here?” Gloom-glower said. “This isn’t delivery day! Now scram, Thrush monster. These are goblin matters for goblins only.”

“I only need one bite to become part goblin,” said Thrush.

“If you eat a single goblin, I’ll make sure I kill that old fool your Hawkman keeps whining about.”

A goblin struggled through the line of snots along Gloom-glower’s gangway. He made such a commotion coming through, that we all watched and waited for him to emerge. He trembled as he approached Stub-toes and covered his mouth by the old goblin’s tilted ear.

Stub-toes hid his rusty kitchen knife behind his back and approached Gloom-glower. “Um…Slime-tooth…is missing, my king.”

Goblins whispered all at once like they were a hushed chorus of one of Soft-song’s pieces. Gloom-glower spun around while he clenched his fists. Veins throbbed in his neck.

He aimed his boiling anger at his closest goblin. “How dare you lie to me! Have you turned, too, Stub-toes?”

“I-I’ve always been loyal you, m-m-my—”

“Shut-up! Everybody shut-up! And you—go away, Thrush. If you don’t leave right now, I’ll finish off Slime-tooth when I find that ungrateful traitor.” To his own Captains he said, “Tie up Barnacle-eyes. It’s over for her.”

His Captains didn’t move a fingernail. They didn’t even blow a single nose hair out of place. Their gazes snapped to Thrush. Gloom-glower must have noticed that.

“Ignore the Thrush monster,” he said. “If you don’t want to go missing next, tie her up this instant!”

The very same goblins all ended up gulping at some point. They wrung their hands and clenched their jaws. Still, they remained as though they belonged in my raised beds.

Gloom-glower stomped. “Take-backs, Slippery-palm, Always-lost, go get her! Now!”

Those Captains shuffled forward. They brandished bent blades on rust-freckled hilts. As soon as Thrush’s voice grated, they halted.

“I’m hungry, Admiral,” said Thrush. “Mind if I have a snack?”

Thrush was hungry enough to eat the goblins! But there wouldn't be much to eat from Gloom-glower’s goblins. Their ribs were keeping their skin at bay from their organs. If I kept looking, they seemed to me like skeletons with green sheets tucked into their eyes and pulled over their joints. It was horrible to see how much they suffered and how scared they looked.

And Thrush would eat them. Hawkin had recounted his battle with Gloom-glower where Thrush had eaten dozens of goblins. Hawkin had been deeply regretful of that. I had shrugged it off and told him that was the life of a goblin. Dying was part of living.

Dying should have never been so much a part of living as a goblin. I suddenly understood exactly how Hawkin felt. Goblins didn’t have to get needlessly slaughtered because of the whims of a belligerent king. How come Hawkin knew this about goblins? How did he see this when he was a human?

No matter how Hawkin had been able to see that back then, I saw things differently now. I could ask Thrush and what few allies I had to battle back Gloom-glower’s goblins. Only so many could swarm us, and Thrush was already keeping them at bay.

Would I pitch us into battle just to keep my position as Admiral, even when I would probably still have to deal with my Chance of Mutiny in the red zone? That’s what Gloom-glower would do.

“Please, Thrush,” I said. “Don’t eat them.”

“I said go tie her up!” said Gloom-glower. “What are you waiting for? The Thrush monster won’t eat you. Barnacle-wise just said so herself.” He said to my goblins, “Whoever ties her up first will receive the ultra platinum fable carat promotion package! …What’s the matter with everyone? Somebody step up and obey me, now! …Oh, I see what’s going on. This is that mind control I tried to warn you all about. Mmhmm. We have to break out of Barnacle-vices’ evil mind control spell. She controls the Thrush monster, so we gotta tie her up. Quickly, before we’re all under her control. Don’t let the hoarder take away your promotions from you!”

Gloom-glower’s captains edged forward. More were hefting weapons. They gritted their teeth. When Thrush yawned, they went pale and shuffled backward. Gloom-glower’s eyes went wide at the small retreat.

In a small whisper-shriek he said, “It’s now ninety-seven percent! This is all your fault! All of you! But most especially you, Stub-toes. How dare you put me in the red zone!”

“But your majesty, I really can’t control that number—”

“Shut up, Stub-toes. Useless…just like the rest of them. You’re all a bunch of useless snots. Attack! I said attack this instant! Attack! Attack!”

“My king, we can’t survive the Thrush monster,” said Fly-booger. “I’ve seen him eat whole hands of goblins. …I think we should retreat and maybe try again next time.”

Fly-booger wasn’t alone. By the nods and murmurs, all the other Captains agreed with him.

Stub-toes held up one finger, and he said, “I have to agree, my king. Please, think of your goblins.”

Gloom-glower spun madly, like he had a tail he couldn't catch. He glared into his crowd of goblins. “You’re all against me, aren’t you! Good-for-nothing, lazy, dying-all-the-time, trash! That’s all you are! Trash! And you, Stub-toes, are the trashiest of them all. How dare you put me in the red zone! Liar! Traitor! Nobody orders me to retreat. I’m your king, which means you snots do as I order. When I sound the call for an attack, every last one of you better obey and attack!”

Poor Stub-toes. How has he managed to survive so close to Gloom-glower for so long?

Stub-toes softly patted Gloom-glower on the arm. “My king, please get a hold of yourself. Your goblins are looking at you, and they look angry.”

“Stay away from me!” said Gloom-glower.

“Whoa there,” said Grease-finger. “Easy now, easy. We’ll turn our ships around and pretend like nothing happened…”

Gloom-glower charged Stub-toes and wrenched the rusty kitchen knife from his swollen hand. He shoved the blade in Grease-finger's neck, and snapped the blade out the other side. Grease-finger hit the deck and writhed. I had seen too many goblins die. It never surprised me how much blood a goblin had in them. When it spilled out, it seemed like way too much for what a body could hold. Grease-finger thrashed in his own blood.

Gloom-glower stepped over the body and splashed the blood with his boots. He let out a sigh, like he was once again floating in a hot spring bath.

“I’ve been meaning to freshen up my figureheads,” he said. “They’ve gotten a pinch too ripe. Anyone else want to join Captain Grease-finger and tell me what to do? …No, I didn’t think so. You idiots! I’m the one you should fear! Not the Thrush monster.”

I stared in horror at Gloom-glower. Not once had I seen him cut down a goblin himself. He always made some other goblin do it. If that was his tactic, it made it seem like he never harmed a goblin himself. Yet here he was getting his hands dirty in front of the world.

I would never treat my goblins like that. Never in a hundred years or more!