We cross the island and take a walk down the western coast. There’s a shipwreck full of ghosts underneath a surprisingly isolated thunderstorm. There’s quite a lot of them and I get that feeling of there being something more dangerous than usual here. While I’d be content to rush in swinging, I decide I’d best heed my companions’ advice of this being possibly more than we can handle right now. We’re here looking for further signs of Maormer incursions, and these ghosts have clearly been here for some time and aren’t bothering anyone or leaving their wreck.

Washed up on the beach, I find a copy of Boethiah’s Proving, and absently read a bit of it while walking before tossing it to one of my companions with a “this is why you don’t fuck around with Daedra.”

There’s a cave on the western coast of Auridon that I have not explored yet, possibly because the last time I was in the area, I was too busy dealing with somebody’s annoyed racist ancestors to lounge around on the beach. We interrupt a confrontation between two people and fail to catch what they were arguing about.

This gully, according to the Altmer man we run across just inside of it, is full of goblins. Unusually well-dressed goblins apparently wearing (presumably goblin-sized) Altmer-style armor. We agree to help investigate the place.

“A cave full of goblins!” I exclaim. “Isn’t that great?”

“Properly adventuring there, yes,” Merry mutters unenthusiastically.

“The goblins might disagree,” Ilara says quietly.

“True!” I say brightly, nimbly hopping over a bear trap. “Let’s not be racist. We can ask the goblins what they think. They are, after all, impeccably dressed.”

“They’re probably just going to attack us,” Eran points out.

I run up to the first goblin I see. “Excuse me, sera goblin!”

The goblin cowers. “Do not hit Byz! Byz only sweeps!”

“That’s alright!” I say. “We just want to talk.”

“Surprised to find a goblin that’s both willing and able to talk,” Eran mumbles.

“Byz very wise! What nice elfs and cat-lady want know?”

I chat with the goblin to try to figure out what the deal is with this place. The deal is apparently that someone made a deal with the goblin tribe (Toothmaul, they call themselves) to provide them with equipment. They even gave the goblins a contract for it.

“Well, I’m terribly sorry that your former masters hit you all the time,” I say. “That seems a bit unnecessary. I am, however, very interested in seeing the details of this contract.”

The contract, of course, is not in Byz’s (Byz’? Whichever) possession, and is instead in the most inconvenient part of the cave, so we’d best get moving. Unfortunately, none of the other goblins seem to be as inclined to chat as Byz, and attack us on sight. While we are, admittedly, breaking into their home, I’m not sure how much sympathy I actually feel for anyone dumb enough to attack us while we’re trying to talk to them. The smart ones at least just run away.

In the far back room, we come across a Khajiit tied up near a table covered in books and paperwork. I direct Ilara to untie him while I search for the contract. Undeterred by his captivity and impending stewing, the Khajiit (Jilan-dar) offers to cut us in on a deal if we can retrieve some of the high elven weapons from the goblins to resell.

I find the contract in question and read it over. It would appear that it was the Veiled Heritance who made a contract with the goblins.

“Why in Oblivion would the racist bandits hire on goblins?” I wonder aloud.

“Probably just wanting to stick swords in their hands and use them as fodder,” Eran says.

On the way back through the cave, I spot a Skyshard on a ledge and absorb it. I wonder if I’ve managed to collect every Skyshard that might be found in Auridon, or if there’s still a ton of them somewhere in spots I haven’t even thought to go. I’ve been pretty thorough in exploring the island but I can only see them from so far away and there could be plenty of them in places that might not even be readily reachable, for all I know.

When we run across Byz again, the First Auridon Marine investigator (Pirry) that we encountered near the entrance to the gully is threatening him.

“It’s alright,” I say. “You can probably leave him be. He’s been the most friendly goblin we’ve encountered here.”

“By which he means he’s been the only one who didn’t attack us on sight,” Eran adds dryly.

“At any rate, Byz here told us about this contract.” I show it to Pirry.

Pirry reads it over, frowning. “Seriously?” He rants a bit about the foolishness of the goblins and a few unpleasant things about the Veiled Heritance for good measure.

“Still, if their chief was willing to deal with one high elf, maybe he’ll be willing to deal with another one,” I say. “And unlike the Veiled Heritance, I’m actually authorized to speak for the Queen.”

Byz’s ears perk up at that. “Byz tell chief you want talk!” He darts off inside a nearby door.

“You’d deal with them?” Pirry asks. “I mean, they’re just goblins. We could just wait for reinforcements and wipe them all out from these caves.”

“You know, people could say the same about the Khajiit,” I point out.

Pirry gives Ilara a look, frowning. “That’s different. The Khajiit are civilized beastfolk and willing to talk and deal with people…” He sighs. “Fine, I guess you have a point, although I doubt that these goblins are going to want to behave in a civilized manner and continue to deal with people. You are, however, welcome to try.”

We head inside to meet the chief. He’s wearing a hooded robe and much of his room’s decorations involve skulls and ribcages.

Byz says, “This Chief Koth!”

“Chief Koth,” I say, giving a bow. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance.” I give some quick introductions, and for goblins, I cheerfully use the nicknames that are not four syllables long.

Koth stares at me, probably never having been bowed to by an elf in his life. “Polite elf want speak? Speak. What say you?”

“I have looked over this contract you made with the Veiled Heritance,” I say. “It does not appear particularly favorable toward you, but I understand you probably have not had a lot of polite dealings with elves.”

“Yes, elf tribe make deal,” Koth says. “Elf tribe give weapons to Toothmaul! Toothmaul use weapons for killing enemies of elf tribe.”

“About that…” I say. “We killed the chief of that elf tribe along with a large number of its members. They’re no longer in a position to keep any deal they had with you. However, I am willing to offer you a new deal instead.”

“New deal?” Koth says. “How Koth know this no trick?”

“How did you know the other elf tribe’s deal wasn’t a trick?” I ask.

“Elf tribe give weapons,” Koth says. “What Neri offer?”

“Well, for starters?” I say. “I’m offering not killing anymore of your people if they quit attacking us already.”

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“Is that threat?” Koth asks.

“No,” I say. “We already had to kill some of them because they refused to let us pass even when I tried to talk to them. This is not polite or civilized behavior, and if you wish to be members of the Aldmeri Dominion, you will need to avoid attacking fellow Dominion members on sight.”

My companions are standing behind me practically audibly biting their tongues at this conversation. I am grateful that Eran knows when to hold back the snark so as not to fuck up my attempts at diplomacy.

Koth is stunned into quiet. “Members? You would let goblins join big elf alliance? As equals?”

“They let Khajiit join,” Ilara says quietly.

“You would, of course, be obligated to fight our enemies, but in return you would also be protected from anything that might threaten you, including, of course, overzealous adventurers who think they’d like to kill a few goblins for sport. You would be able to freely trade with the people of the Dominion to offer what goods and services you can provide in exchange for things you want or need.”

“Neri make deal elf lords have to listen to?” Koth says. “Neri is strong if he kills chief of elf tribe. Goblins respect strength! Tell Koth of battle. Tell Koth how you fight elf chief.”

We settle in for story time, and my companions relax a bit and make interjections about our adventures. Koth and Byz listen with rapt attention at our description of all the stupid things we’ve killed. The goblins seem impressed at the sheer breadth of our violence.

“Dead things, Daedra, snakes, sea elfs, spiders!” Koth exclaims. “Such glory!”

“We have been pretty busy, haven’t we,” Eran says.

“How you make other elfs not attack goblins?” Koth asks.

“Put Dominion banners outside of your cave,” I say. “Maybe keep a guard out front wearing a tabard.”

“What banner?” Koth asks.

“The yellow one with the bird on it,” I say. “You might have wound up with some of them along with the other elf stuff you’ve got.” I wave a hand. “They’re kind of like those skull totems you put everywhere, I think. They let people know what tribe lives there so they’ll know not to attack.”

“Oh! Koth understand. Byz! See if we have yellow bird banner.”

“Yes, chief!” Byz says.

“Koth go talk tribe, tell them no attack. This might still be trick, but this might not, and you quite able to kill goblins. Koth no see reason for more goblins to die today. Wait here.”

The two of them leave the room.

“They’re probably just going to try to trap us in,” Merry says quietly.

“Then we kill them,” I say lightly.

“Are we really authorized to admit them into the Aldmeri Dominion?” Eran asks.

“Probably not, but the process has to start somewhere,” I say. “I can definitely get Chief Koth an audience with Queen Ayrenn, though.”

“Would she be… happy about that?” Merry wonders.

“Dunno!” I say cheerfully. “And what might happen from there would be ought of my hands. But if one is to make a staunch commitment to not being racist, there shouldn’t be exceptions just because someone is green, right? The Dominion did take in that orc lady, after all.”

“And now goblins,” Eran says, throwing his arms wide and giving a short laugh. “Sure, why not, why not fucking goblins, too. Why not have goblins in dresses selling pies in the Skywatch marketplace?”

“Just not mer pies,” Merry says. “Don’t forget to tell them eating people is bad.”

“Ilara hopes Jilan-dar made it out alright,” Ilara says softly.

Koth returns after a minute, and we head for the entrance to the gully without being harassed by goblins this time. They watch us distrustfully as we go by, but make no move against us.

On the way by, we locate the hidey-hole of the Veiled Heritance agent who had recruited the goblins. I’m calling her Nellie. She’s slightly miffed at being called Nellie but doesn’t protest. She doesn’t protest extra hard when I inform her of what has happened to her Veiled Queen or the rest of her organization, either. I inform her that she’s unlikely to be able to sneak out of here and sell her a teleport scroll to Skywatch for the low, low price of way more than I paid for it and an agreement to get on the first ship sailing anywhere else.

While we were talking, Pirry’s reinforcements have shown up, but have remained at the entrance. Byz has found a Dominion banner and is holding it up like a shield and cowering behind it.

“There you are, Neralion,” Pirry says. “Did you have a riveting conversation with these creatures?”

“Oh, yes,” I say. “I believe I may have worked something out. The goblins seem willing to work with the Dominion.”

“Good, I can have them shipped back to their masters straight away—wait, with the Dominion? You’re not suggesting that these goblins join the Dominion and not simply go back to being slaves.”

“Why not?” I say. “The dark elves freed their slaves and allied themselves with the Argonians.”

“But the Argonians are… ah…” Pirry trails off, working up his face as he tries to come up with an argument.

Byz says quietly, “Byz just wants to sweep clean, dry house and not dark, wet cave.”

“That’s more sensible than most Argonians,” Eran says cheerfully.

“You know what, this is above my pay grade,” Pirry says with a sigh. “If you wish to try to civilize these individuals and promote goblin equality,” he can hardly say it with a straight face, “that’s your business, and I’m very glad that I do not have to be the one who has to make any official decisions regarding anything.”

“No more hitting?” Byz whispers.

“Definitely no hitting,” I say. “Hitting should be reserved for enemies, not servants, soldiers, and students.”

…

I didn’t expect to have a small entourage of goblins coming with me when I return to Vulkhel Guard. The Queen is, of course, not in Vulkhel Guard at the moment, and while Chief Koth wanted to stay in his gully until he could get an official audience with the Queen (even the Veiled Heritance hadn’t been able to promise that, but I didn’t either lest Ayrenn be annoyed at me), a few others had wanted to come along on the thought of being able to walk around an elf city as free beings and that their best chances of doing so right now was while following a group of elves (and one Khajiit) around.

One of them by the name of Thek isn’t too thrilled by the idea of fighting for his former masters, but his eyes practically lit up at the thought that he might be able to join the Fighters Guild. That’s our first stop when we arrive in town by the west gate (after smashing a Dark Anchor again on the way in; it’s just Scregor at the dolmen today, and he’s so drunk that he tried flirting with Togga, who was flattered).

Eran and Ilara head off to the Salty Wings Tavern to settle in, leaving me with Merry and the two goblins. Lyris is in the guildhall at the moment, and her eyebrows shoot up when she sees us come in.

“Thek want join guild!” the goblin exclaims enthusiastically.

“A goblin?” Lyris says with a touch of surprise.

“Thek hear Fighters Guild take all races,” he says. “Thek hit things good!”

“Huh,” says the Altmer hall steward whose name I don’t even slightly remember. “That’s true. I didn’t expect any goblins to sign up, but there are no restrictions against it. Well, then, you said your name was Thek? Then, Thek, I shall officially welcome you as the Vulkhel Guard Fighters Guild’s first goblin member.”

“Just Vulkhel Guard?” Lyris says.

“I’m not personally acquainted with every guild member across Tamriel,” the hall steward says. “For all I know, the Morrowind branch might also have goblin members.”

“Thek happy to join!” Thek says. “Have shirt with picture for Thek wear? Neri say people wear shirt and wave flag that have picture on for showing what group you from.”

“Ah, that’s an excellent idea,” the hall steward says. He gives Thek a red tabard with the Fighters Guild’s sword symbol. “Here you go. This one’s Bosmer-sized but it should fit. Now they’ll know you’re with the Fighters Guild and not a target.”

As the hall steward leads the goblin off to test his hitting-things skills, I escort my other charge toward the Mages Guildhall. Togga (who turned out to be a lady goblin, and I’m a little embarrassed to say I couldn’t tell the difference) has aspirations to be a great wizard. She spent the whole trip here bugging Merry for magic pointers and I feel like he was only humoring her because he was bored and it was a nice change of pace from mortal peril.

Then again, he did try to turn possessed animals into an army. A goblin army would be capable of slightly more complex orders than atronach bears. Atronachs are intelligent enough to speak and stubborn enough not to bother, obedient enough to obey an order to go destroy something in that general direction and single-minded enough to not feel like being subtle about it. Maybe I’m just gauging the atronachs I’ve personally encountered.

Togga stares wide-eyed around the guildhall as we go inside.

We approach the hall steward, who looks at Merry. “Greetings. I am Curinure, steward of the Vulkhel Guard Mages Guild. Are you here to join the guild?”

“I’m already a member,” Merry says. “We’re here for the little lady here.”

“Togga want be wizard!” the goblin says enthusiastically.

Curry stares at her in open disbelief. “You want to enroll your goblin slave in the Mages Guild?”

“She’s not a slave,” Merry says.

“Merry say Mages Guild not just for elfs,” Togga says, then pauses. “Elves. Togga learn talk right.”

“Well, that’s true, but…” Curry trails off, frowning.

“Watch this,” Merry says. “Togga, show him.”

Grinning wildly, Togga raises her hands and slowly makes a few careful gestures, and a small, flickering light appears above her hand.

“Congratulations,” Curry says. “You have taught your goblin a parlor trick.”

“Don’t discount her,” Merry says. “I wasn’t expecting much, but that light spell? I was able to teach that to her in the time it took us to make a leisurely stroll halfway down the western coast. An Altmer child would have taken a month to learn that. We forget that our main advantage is that we have many more years available to us to master our skills.”

Curry’s expression quickly turns from skepticism to astonishment. “Alright, well, there’s that, I suppose, but can she even read?”

Togga shakes her head. “Togga learn!”

Our conversation has caught the attention of an Argonian. “What’s this? Do we have a young aspiring mage here? Hello! I’m Demeepa.”

Curry mumbles, “My Guildhall will be the laughingstock of Auridon for accepting a goblin, but I am bound by the Guild rules, which do not specifically exclude any race. I hate to think what the fighters are going to say about this, though.”

“The Fighters Guild just accepted a goblin, too,” I tell him.

Curry’s attitude shifts immediately. “Oh did they now. Well then. We can’t have that. It would be easy to turn a goblin into a fighter.”

I believe I’d underestimated the Guilds’ competitiveness.