Sven was surprisingly happy. Malcolm's information had paid off, and the heist had gone smoothly. As far as the Toe Goblins knew, the town was unaware of their presence.

Nevertheless, they could never be too careful. Therefore, they sent Malcolm back to the town, in the hopes of gleaning possible new information.

If the settlement had caught wind of the Toe Goblin's attack, any future endeavors would be foolish. A watchful town is a dangerous town.

But as Malcolm walked around, all he saw were the soldiers. The market square had been transformed into a makeshift hospital, and the town barracks and inn were busting at the seams.

All the men said the same thing. The northern hills had fallen. For over a year, the Northern tribes had besieged Castle Criaghald, the last line of defense in that region. Now only logistics and the difficult supply lines kept the enemy at bay.

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With all the troops in the town, Malcolm had little hope of gaining new information. He could barely move without bumping into someone, let alone scout around.

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Back at camp, Malcolm again relayed the day's information to Sven. With the increased military presence, they would be foolish to try another heist.

Again Malcolm mentioned the soldiers to Sven, who again took little interest.

"Is there anything else?" the Toe Goblin said.

"Well..." Malcolm began before cutting himself off. "Nevermind. Just more news from the Great War. Apparently the Northern tribes have taken the hills."

Sven shot up, a panic look in his eyes. "Are you SURE that's what they said?"

"Y...yes." Malcolm stammered, stunned by the sudden change in character.

"Then pack your coat, human!" Sven ordered. "We leave for the hills at dawn!"