image [https://i.ibb.co/DpfQhvN/Granny-Gob-Chapter4-Title.jpg]

The first warrior through the door never had a chance. The moment he stepped into the room, Betty swung her heavy iron pan horizontally, straight into the man’s knee. The joint shattered, folding completely back on itself. Screeching in agony, the knight toppled forward into the room.

“WARE!” shouted the female warrior behind the crippled knight.

Betty was not going to allow her time to give out any more warnings. Still using the dim interior of the hut as cover, she peeked around the doorjamb and pointed at where she wanted her [Heat] spell to land. With her enhanced vision, she could easily locate a section of chainmail at the woman’s armpit. Unlike a thigh plate, this was not a spot the attacker would be able to hold away from her body. It was locked in place by metal shoulder guards and a breastplate. The spell said it lasted a minute. The heat would run out long before the knight would be able to get out of her armor.

Betty might have felt some remorse over harming the woman were these not murderers and kidnappers. Who knows how many children they had orphaned or how many families they had destroyed? While the woman’s shrieks were added to those of the leg-shattered knight, Betty ducked out of the cabin and into the shadowy night.

As she vanished into the murk, the two fighters emerged from around the opposite corners of the shack, stopping to assess what had happened to their comrades. The female warrior was tearing at her armor, begging for help getting it off. One of the troopers moved to do just that. The other headed for the interior of the cabin.

That was not allowed.

Betty dashed forward silently and targeted the chainmail she could see between the man’s shoulder blades. Using her second and last magical attack for the hour, she superheated those links as well.

Her incredible ears saved her life. Even over three sets of painful cries, Betty detected metal boots grinding against sticks and leaves behind her. She jumped forward and spun around to see the fourth knight had abandoned the woman and was advancing on her, sword drawn and ready to strike. If she had stayed put, the blade would have already cut her slight new body in two.

“A gobbie shaman,” he hissed. “Yer dead.”

Betty knew she was no fighter. She had that titan strength going for her, but once her magic was depleted, she was outclassed in every other way. The warrior was obviously more skilled than she was. His reach was longer both in terms of his arms and his weapon. Her only hope was to stay away from him.

Cocking her arm back, she prepared to hurl her pan and then hide until she could find something else to fight with. The knight saw her intent and charged her, assuming he could bat the skillet away or let it bounce off his armor. She was only a goblin, after all.

Big mistake.

The swordsman swung too slowly, not expecting the cooking implement to be launched at him like a rocket. With a deafening clang, the pan slammed into his chest and hurled him backward off his feet. The man tumbled head over heels until he clattered to a stop against a large knobby trunk.

Betty quickly looked around to locate all of her adversaries, only to find she was not in this fight alone.

Wik stood over the first warrior with a savage grin on her dainty green face. In her hand was her dagger coated in a dark, dripping red. At her feet, the crippled warrior was rapidly bleeding out through the slash across his throat.

The spell on the female warrior had faded away, but her right arm was crippled. She was trying to defend herself from Burt, who was battering her with the stove-poker. She was certainly not left-handed since her flailing grabs at the iron rod missed every time.

The third warrior had managed to jam his gloved hand between the searing chainmail and his back, but this left him unable to fight properly. Knowing he could not stand up to the armored soldier alone, Atti was doing his best to buy time. While holding the hot metal at bay, the knight was being pelted with any object of weight the boy could throw: candlesticks, jars and bottles, even a stool and bucket.

Betty could hear the swordsman she had just bombarded with her frying pan groaning and rustling. The man would almost certainly not be on his feet for a few more seconds. The knight facing Atti had to be dealt with first.

Dashing stealthfully up behind the villain, she grabbed both of his ankles. With a mighty heave, she yanked back and up. With one hand trapped against his back and the other fending off thrown missiles, the soldier had no chance to break his fall. He crashed face-first into the floor with a stunning amount of force.

Betty turned back to the fighters outside, looking for a new weapon. The female knight’s sword was on the ground. She ran to it. As she passed the wounded woman, Betty punched out at the armored leg to help Burt. Pain lanced up her hand. She had to remember her massively enhanced strength could be a two-edged sword. The blow swept the warrior off her feet, but it also left Betty’s fist throbbing. Burt wasted no time in stepping close and thrashing her helmet with blow after blow from the poker.

Betty picked up the sword, only to find it was probably the most awkward thing she had ever tried to control. It was as tall as she was, and the handle was made for someone with a far larger grip than a goblin possessed. Her now aching left hand weakened her grip even further. She was strong enough to clamp her hand around the hilt and be sure she wouldn’t drop it, but wielding it like a sword was almost impossible. She ended up staggering around each time she tried to get on-guard with the sword. It didn’t matter how much strength she had when she lacked the mass to counterbalance the blade.

The fourth knight finally clambered back to his feet. Holding what surely must be broken ribs, he glared at her with hate-filled eyes. When he saw her struggling with the long weapon, an evil grin lifted the corners of his mouth. The warrior drew his dagger and advanced on Betty. Locked into her terrible decision, it did not occur to her to throw away the ungainly weapon.

The man crept gingerly closer, cradling his cracked chest. Even wounded, his approach was menacing. Betty guessed he would try to smack the sword away with his gauntleted hand and then stab down at her. She would just have to be faster. One more step and …

Burt’s stove poker cracked down onto the man’s dagger-wielding wrist. As the blade fell free, a deluge of rocks began pelting the enemy soldier. Atti, Wik, and even little Namia threw stone after stone at the man. Not letting this chance escape, Betty dropped the unwieldy sword and scooped up the fallen knife. Following through with that momentum, she ended up driving the dirk straight up between the man’s legs. With a gurgling squawk, the last of the murderous knights crumpled to the ground.

Holding her aching hand, Betty looked to the group. “You wonderful children,” she exclaimed. “Is everyone alright? Burt, did she get you?”

“Uh, no … Ma’am,” he fumbled, looking to Atmus. The muscular youth seemed to be having trouble making the mental shift of having goblins as allies in a battle against noble-looking knights. Atti nodded assurance to his brother, which seemed to change something in the bigger boy’s demeanor. Unexpectedly, the prickly hostility toward Betty completely vanished. “No, Ma’am,” he reiterated. “She was pretty messed up and not a lefty like Nami is.”

“Well, you saved me, young man. You all did. I am so proud of you all.”

“Granny Gob, your hand? How bad is it?” Atti asked.

“I was foolish and likely cracked something. It will be fine, though.”

“I can help you. Let me have your hand,” the boy said earnestly.

“I thought you couldn’t heal people, Atti,” Namia said, speaking for the first time out loud in front of Betty.

Atmus looked to Betty and stated, “Please don’t take offense, Ma’am. It’s just how the system works.” He then turned to look at his little sister, “Goblins don’t count as people for my spell, but that does not mean we will treat Granny Gob any less. Ok, Na?” The girl nodded. A second later, she looked over at the blood-soaked Wik before shrinking back to Burt’s side.

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

A glow around her hand brought Betty’s attention to what the young man was doing. As the pain in her knuckles eased, she noticed that Atti had one of those small squares. Opening it, she saw a much smaller description than the expected sheet she had seen with Wik. It simply read:

[Youthful Human Adept] - Level 2

Looking at the other two, she found their boxes, too. Both stated:

[Young Human Commoner] - Level 1

As the pain faded from her hand, she noticed she had waiting messages for herself.

You have defeated 4 [Steelback Slayers] - Level 7. You have gained two levels

“Oh, more choices,” she said out loud, wiggling her much-improved hand. There was a bit of soreness remaining, but nothing she wasn’t used to. Her arthritis had been far worse. She smiled and gave Atti a light squeeze of gratitude on his arm.

“Let’s get back inside, away from all this violence, and make some plans. I have questions for you, young man. You obviously know how this all works better than I do.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Betty effortlessly pulled the bodies outside.

While Burt grabbed a bucket of water, the other children dragged the rug over the worst of the blood puddle. Settling themselves, Betty called Wik over. With a rag and some fresh water, she began to wipe away the red coating the young goblin had acquired.

“So It looks like I gained two levels. How about the rest of you? Who else gains some levels?”

Wik and Burt both held up their hands.

“Make sense,” Atti noted. “They each participated more in the combat than Nami and I. Also, I leveled just last year.”

“But I’ve leveled three times today,” Betty stated. “How can leveling once a year be normal?”

“I’m just a Hedgemage, Granny. We are good at making remedies and healing animals … well non-people. I guess we can heal monsters, too, but that never occurred to me until just now. Commoner classes don’t level nearly as fast as combat classes do. Also, the more engaged in combat you are, the more experience towards leveling you receive. You would have received the lion’s share of the experience since you disabled all four of the knights.”

That made sense. The children had each played a role in the battle, but not an equal role.

“So what options did you get, Granny?” the boy asked excitedly. Betty could see his quick mind wanting to work on something new. The children like Atti she had taught were often the most challenging and rewarding of her students.

“Let’s see,” Betty answered and opened the document containing the new information.

You may choose four of the following options:

Goblin

* +1 Might* (Due to gear, will only improve unequipped Might)

* +1 Health

* +1 Defense

* +1 Magic

* +1 Speed

* +1 Awareness

* New Ability - [Cave Eyes]: Shadowsight becomes Darksight

* New Spell - [Vex]: Create a small phantom sensory effect to distract an enemy

Sizzler

* +1 Magic

* +1 Damage level to [Ignite] or [Heat]

* New Ability - [Tempering]: Moderate (2) resistance to fire and cold

* New Spell - [Flambé]: Engulf a melee or natural weapon in flames for 1 minute. +2 damage

She read off the list, noting the two options she wanted. Another Health might prevent her from breaking her own hand again.

The other one was [Tempering]. She was working with some intense heat spells. Being protected against their effects might prevent someone from using her fire against her.

It also worked on cold. As Betty had gotten older, the cold seemed to seep into her bones and make everything ache. That might not be the case anymore, but she was happy to jump at the chance to forestall it.

Atti's suggestions were completely different. He insisted she should increase her magic. That would allow her to cast another spell every hour.

Another reason he wanted her to do so was to try and get her Magic to Prestigious. If Betty did so, she would be able to cast each of her spells a number of times equal to her Magic instead of the total of her spells that many times. Atmus stated that Prestigious Magic was the first step to becoming a real mage and one of the ways spellcasters could move beyond the Copper Hollow into the Bronze Hills, the following transcendent tier. While Betty doubted she was going to become a full-fledged wizard, the extra spell use every hour seemed like a very well-thought-out idea.

His other suggestion was the new Sizzler spell, [Flambé]. He reasoned that Betty was already deadly with her frying pan; adding more damage to those hits would only help her. Taking out an enemy in the first exchange gave her better odds of surviving than being able to take a few more hits. He admitted it was a gamble, but she trusted his opinion.

Wik did not get a class but became a level 2 goblin. She put her points into Might and Speed.

Burt’s level did award him not one but three class choices: [Farmhand], [Warrior], and [Yeoman], which was a combination of the first two. At Atti’s advice, Burt selected the more advanced [Yeoman] class, which provided him with something called [Tool Mastery]. This skill would automatically allow him to use certain weapons and farming implements with a much greater proficiency.

They found the new ability did not work well with swords, but two of the soldiers had hand axes, which Wik had no problem retrieving from the dead bodies. The moment Burt took them out of the little goblin’s hands, his broad, young face broke into a wide grin. He twirled the axes in each hand as if he had been using them for years.

“This is amazing,” he exclaimed in the happiest tone Betty had heard from the young man yet. Wik dashed out and returned with an armful of items. The dagger she brought him interacted with skill better than the sword but not nearly as well as the axes. They found a hammer and a cleaver were two more solid fits for [Tool Mastery]. Burt ended up taking the two axes and the hammer to keep with him. He put the rest in the back of the wagon for later if he needed them.

“What do you all think about heading out tonight?” Betty asked the four children, looking at the deep red blot that was soaking through the rug under her feet. “I don’t relish the idea of sleeping here with dead bodies outside.”

“It’s too dark, Granny,” Burt replied in a rather pleasant voice. The big youth seemed to have made the mental transition of the goblins truly being allies. He was sitting side by side as comfortably with Wik on one side of him as he was with Namia on the other.

“Wik and I can see in the dark…”

“Deep dark under trees … hard to see, Granny. We see in fields at night. Trolls not sneak up on us there.”

“Trolls? What do you mean trolls, Dear?”

“Trolls,” the girl reiterated as if that explained everything. “Is why not stay with food outside. That why you want to go away, right?”

“Well, it sure is now. Everyone, please look around for anything we should take with us. Then, you boys will need to show me how to drive the wagon. Chop, chop,” she announced, clapping her hands.

The five of them scampered about the shack, grabbing all the gear they could easily take. A few minutes later, they had the horses hooked to the wagon and were heading back up the trail to the roadway. Atti sat with Betty, teaching her how to handle the horses and cart. His instructions were clear and easy for Betty to follow. Even though he was virtually blind by deep nighttime woodlands, he seemed to recall the path through the woods by heart.

The human children could see only a fault line in the sky where the trees broke open over the trail. To Betty, the world was a monochrome of slightly greenish whites, grays, and blacks. She could see quite clearly ahead of them, but the world disappeared into darkness rather quickly on each side of the trail as the thick canopies of the forest blocked the moonlight.

Namia wanted to light a candle, but she listened when Wik said it would attract monsters. The little goblin girl was already unhappy with how loud and creaky the wagon was.

It was a harrowing twenty minutes until they drove out of the woods and onto the cleared country lane. Betty, who now knew how to work the reins, drove them down the winding road heading for an abandoned farm Atti had mentioned. The family there had already been overrun by General Galerus’ marauding knights. It would be as safe a haven as they would likely find anywhere nearby.

One by one, the children wrapped themselves in the bedding they had plundered from the logger’s cabin. They curled into a pile, surprisingly making room for Wik to join them. As the cart creaked along the path, Betty listened to the sounds of their small snores rising from the wagon bed. Her mind drifted back to many midnight rides with Morty as the road lulled a fussy baby Jason to sleep. As heartbreaking as this tale she found herself embroiled into was, she could not help but smile as her new young charges murmured and slept behind her.