5 - How to Annoy Goblins and Influence Necromancers

The All-Seeing Tower, Battle of the Four Armies Festival Drinking Games

Fweb lay on its stomach on a stone bench in the servants' dining hall. Its mate, a knobby goblin with the most attractive warts in goblinkind, plucked out the glass after the near-death experience with the master. The goblin butler winced every time a piece was yanked out. "I don't know why we even bother working for this guy anymore," Fweb said. "We should just kill him the next time he sleeps."

"We've been over this a thousand times," Grekka said, as it dug for a piece that was particularly hard to remove. "The tower will collapse on his death."

"That seems like a raw deal...ow!" Fweb said. "What about all those who faithfully served their master? That's a rotten retirement plan to have a building fall on your head."

"It's the life of a goblin, dear," Grekka said, and plucked out the last one. It then rubbed a concoction of Orc feces on Fweb's back. The medicine stung like a bite from a giant spider and stunk like a latrine but prevented infection. "We are too lithe and weak to be of any use in combat, and the steel allergy prevents us from being useful for all but the lowest of tasks."

When steel touched the skin of a goblin, they shriveled into dust. The first great goblin army was also the last great goblin army after a smith decided to upgrade their iron helmets to steel for free. The few survivors scattered and found that serving a master provided a much better life than existing off the scraps of Orcs.

The steel allergy also meant that goblins couldn't keep their fingernails sharp like their teeth. Dull nails fit into gloves better. They were rarely seen without their gloves. A goblin with frayed or torn gloves was said to have a wish to ride their ancestors' winds.

"I know, I know," Fweb said. "But there has to be something more than this for us."

"You know what happened the last time the goblins assembled an army." Grekka helped it to its feet and then fetched its clothing.

"Not that. I don't care about glory or power; that's Duke's thing. I'm just sick of this tower. All I do every day is run up and down the stairs. Fweb, bring me this, Fweb, go do that. I just want to see the world."

Grekka laughed and helped it back into its clothes. "And be on the wrong end of a knight's lance?"

"Not all Traldalorians kill goblins on sight. I even heard that a few goblins work for them."

"Whether it's one king or another, a master is still a master."

Before they said another word, an Orc limped into the room. It was Motar, an Orc who would almost certainly have died in the Battle of the Four Armies if he hadn't accidentally given himself brain damage during a club throwing competition a month before the battle. After the injury, he lost the ability to wield a sword. He would let it go at the apex of the swing, usually killing some poor lieutenant who happened to be walking by at the moment. However, the cognitive malfunction offered a benefit by turning Motar from a killing machine into a cleaning machine. He became obsessed with eliminating dust in all its forms, which prevented him from becoming meat for the hellhounds, where most of the Orcs wounded in battle would end up.

"The guest..." Motar began. "The guest..."

"Yes, the guest is... the guest is..." Fweb said in an attempt to be helpful.

"The guest is wanting—"

"A drink? Food? The latrine?"

"The Sky Lord! The Sky Lord!" Motar said triumphantly.

"Looks like our visitor is getting impatient," Fweb said, and rolled its eyes. They always got impatient. Even if Duke had nothing better to do, he'd always make people wait, sometimes for days. If there was any way to extract a bit of control or power from a situation, the necromancer would take it. The whole display irritated Fweb because it was always the one that had to deal with the irritated guests.

Fweb climbed from the subbasements of the tower to the waiting room on the fourth floor. Because Duke had sealed the front door to the building to prevent the rampaging armies from sacking the place, they had to devise a makeshift platform system that would hoist people to a window on the fourth floor. It was less for travelers' benefit and more for the servants' because, even though the lands around the tower were barren, there were still critters that skittered between the rocks and fungus that grew in caves. Goblin hunting parties would go out and bring the morsels back to their master, who would disparage their efforts while chowing it down because there was nothing else to eat.

Fweb opened a door that was a good ten feet taller than himself and saw the traveler staring into the fire. The human, or at least what Fweb thought was a human, was wrapped in the garb of the sand people who lived in the land of the Burning Sun. There was cloth wrapped around every part of the body, obscuring any sense of identity. Not that it cared to gaze on the skin of a human. It found them disgustingly smooth. Fweb would never tell its lord that Lady Ameria was so soft and fair that her face sent chills down its spine.

The goblin was glad when she jumped from the tower into the arms of her lover. One less hideous creature to order it around.

"Kind goblin," the traveler said. "Would you please express urgency to your master? I have a proposal for him, but it will expire during the witching hour tonight."

"You have a better chance at finding an Ogre shepherd than getting the Sky Lord to meet with you promptly," Fweb scoffed. Ogres were known for their deep-rooted fear of wool and would pound a flock of sheep into the ground if they came across one. "He made his own mother wait at his father's funeral."

"I heard he killed his father," the traveler said.

"Exactly. Now if you'll excuse me, I have much to—"

The traveler grabbed it by the arm. Most goblins hated being touched for fear of steel rings or bracelets. "I have a spell that will return him to his former glory, but I am a moon mage."

A moon mage? Fweb thought to itself. Who ever heard of a moon mage?

Wizards of Carnt harnessed their magic from the natural world and the harmonies of the universe, ironically exhausting physical material that gave them power. A flora mage could decimate vast swathes of forest with a sufficiently powerful song, which was usually only cast in service of protecting the foliage. Water wizards could siphon an entire lake and cut themselves off from the very source of their power if they weren't careful while they belted out their melodies. While Fweb didn't pretend to know all the various iterations of sorcerers, the moon seemed like a resource nearly impossible to use. In both the flora and the water magic users' cases, they needed to be in proximity to the fuel for their magic. The moon was impossibly distant.

However, Fweb didn't want to risk overlooking even the slightest chance that the traveler had something its master could use, because if such an omission came to light, the goblin really would end up hanging by its entrails. Besides, in the far more likely scenario that the visitor turned out to be a charlatan, Duke would forget about Fweb's transgression of being a nuisance because the necromancer loved torture more than bullying minions.

The persistence of their unscheduled guest would result in more physical violence against the goblin servant anyway. Fweb was lucky that goblins were a hardy race and bounced back quickly, or it would have been dead long before this self-proclaimed moon mage came calling. Fweb huffed and said, "Well, I can't take you to my master with you holding me back."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

The traveler let go and motioned for Fweb to lead the way. The goblin turned towards the door.

Thirty-five floors later, Fweb was surprised to note that the traveler wasn't winded by the climb, especially since the wanderer's backpack appeared to be easily half the weight of an Orcish infantry pack. Even when the lift was functioning, Duke made visitors take the stairs. The grotesque nobles would be gasping for air by the time they reached floor ten. Some would die of a heart attack by floor thirty. If they couldn't make it to the top, then the Sky Lord didn't care to hear them out. Fweb was only ever short of breath when it ran up the stairs. Leading a guest up the steps was a fraction of its usual pace.

"Wait here," Fweb said, and opened a set of double doors five times the height of a human. It slipped through and shut them.

The room on the other side was a grand hallway with sharp arches and black pillars made to resemble bones. At the very end of the space was a dais made from skulls topped by a bone throne woven from those of elves, humans, halflings and dwarves alike. They were painted black.

Duke, in his full royal robes and bone headdress, sat at the top. He stared at his lips in a handheld mirror and said, "A tutor who tooted the flute tried to tutor two tooters to toot. Said the two to the tutor, 'Is it easier to toot or to tutor two tooters to toot?'"

Once Fweb traversed the room's distance, it stood at the base of the dais and cleared its throat. Duke didn't notice it at first, so the goblin said, "The visitor is here to see you, my liege."

The Sky Lord jumped, hid the mirror behind his back, pulled out his scepter, and chided, "I told you never to bother me before I'm ready!"

"I'm sorry, Sky Lord, but our guest was quite insistent. It claims to have a spell that can return you to your former glory."

"Does it now?" A grin popped up on Duke's face.

"It also claims to be a moon mage."

"A moon mage? Well, show this miscreant in. Either way, we'll have our evening's entertainment." Duke's grin broadened.

Fweb bowed and turned back toward the entry chamber, thinking that the exchange had gone better than it could have imagined. At least now, his master could torture someone else for a change. Hopefully, this person would last longer than a day. One guy had died of a stomach bug several days after being forced to eat his own foot. Considering the vigor with which they had ascended the staircase, Fweb was optimistic it might get a week or two off from being slapped around.

Once it got to the set of double doors, it thrust them open, then proclaimed, "Behold the glory of the Grandmaster of the Seven Realms, the Keeper of the Rings of Fate, Holder of the mighty Seeing Stone, Mighty...um, hello?"

The visitor was nowhere to be seen. Before Fweb had to turn back and face the wrath of its master, footsteps could be heard from down the stairs. After a few moments, the traveler emerged and said, "Sorry, we passed a window on the way up. I wanted to take a closer look. It's not every day one finds oneself in the tallest tower of all the land."

Fweb ignored the remark and began again, "Behold the glory of the Grandmaster of the—"

The guest pushed past the goblin without a word and made its way to the throne.

The servant shrugged and muttered, "I don't know why I bother."

Sky Lord watched the display with an expression that was either bemusement or hate. Fweb could never tell which.

The traveler didn't give anyone time to speak again. "Sky Lord! At last. I have journeyed far to see you—"

Duke deepened his voice and scolded the impudent display, "And yet, you insult me in my own home with claims of impossible sorcery."

"Forgive me, sire," the visitor said, "but time is of the essence, and I couldn't trust that your thick-headed servant would grasp the nuance of magic that only a sophisticated wizard such as yourself would understand."

Fweb could withstand insults to its intelligence even though it was one of the few goblins who could read and write. Goblin kind weren't exactly known for their intellect. However, hearing the flattery slung towards its master made its stomach churn. A new torture victim in the house would serve as a diversion from the servants' needless battery. A friend would just mean a new person to kick them around.

"My reputation precedes me," Sky Lord said. "However, do not take me for a knave. Tell me of the moon mages. I don't think I've ever heard of them."

"Probably not, because I am the Mistress of the Moon." The traveler smiled and bowed. The visitor unwrapped its head garments, and a woman was underneath. She had brown hair with grey strands, fair skin, and hazel eyes. She did not look like a human from the land of the Burning Sun, and from the way Fweb's master shifted his robes and leaned in closer, it could tell that he found her interesting, even though her skin was the exceptionally gross smooth kind. The future was bleak.

Sky Lord's voice went up two octaves, "Well..." He coughed and his voice went back down, though not quite to his deep lord-of-ultimate-evil intonation. "If all moon mages look like you, then maybe I studied the wrong type of magic. Just kidding, I love necromancy. Did you know I brought my cat back from the dead when I was only ten? Destined to be a blood mage."

She ignored his awkwardness and sidestepped his lean into her. She continued, "I have a spell that can bring a hero in from a distant land."

"Forgive me, it's the intellect at work again, but don't we have enough heroes?"

"What if I were to say that I could get these heroes not only to serve you, but they will inhabit the bodies of Lovantus and his cronies?" She smiled.

Duke sat up in his chair and said, "What?! You're saying you can possess Lovantus and the Silent Legion with spirits friendly to me?"

"Oh, no, not just leaders of the Battle of the Four Armies. I can summon one for Lady Ameria, too."

Duke was speechless for a moment and then asked, "Is this the moon magic?"

"Yes, but the reason for my haste is that all five of them must be in proximity for it to work, and it just so happens that they are holding the Alliance Summit tonight in Traldalor."

The Alliance Summit was the only time of the year when the military leaders of the dwarves, elves, halflings, and humans met in the same place during the Battle of the Four Armies Festival. It started off to keep the peace and prevent the Sky Lord from rising again. However, it quickly devolved into an excuse to swap drinks of fermented fruits and grains while making merry into the wee hours of the morning. Since very little governance happened at what was supposed to be a government function, the heroes of the Silent Legion who led the Four Armies took the night off and found a local tavern to recount stories of the past.

Duke grinned and laughed.

If Fweb had thought it could get away with rolling its eyes and surviving, it would have done so. The necromancer's laugh was sort of a cackle meant to sound demonic. However, he always did this weird thing with his breath that made it sound more like a drowning horse. Luckily, the visitor seemed keen to prevent further guffaws and said, "The moonlight will be lost this morning, so I think we should begin the ritual."

"Right," Duke said, in his dark lord voice. "Begin at once. Fweb, make sure all the servants are at—I don't believe I got your name—"

"Smith...Jennifer Smith," Jennifer Smith said, and removed her backpack. She seemed entirely focused on unloading its contents.

"Well, Smith Jennifer Smith—"

"You can call me Jenny."

"Well, Jenny—"

"Back in college, I was called Jay, but I hate that name. Sounds too much like a boy."

"Um...right, Jenny. Fweb, make sure all the servants are at Jenny's behest."

She pulled out the pieces of what seemed to be an elaborate apparatus. She looked up and said, "Do you have any coffee? I work better with some caffeine—Oh, sorry. I often forget that others aren't trained in the language of moon mages. It's a little black bean. You grind them up to make a warm beverage."

"The energy bean? I do believe we have some in storage. Fweb!" The Sky Lord snapped his fingers.

Fweb nodded and scurried off. The food stores were in the basement. Fweb hated people who ordered hot beverages. There would be running up the steps with scalding liquid all night. When Fweb was out of earshot, it cursed under its breath.

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