9:47 PM, 5th of December
<3 days, 22 hours, and 13 minutes until departure>
Gabriela “Gabs” Dominguez, the youngest member of the Wolfpack at 60 years old, received her nickname long ago, not as a diminutive form of her Christian name (as one might reasonably assume), but because she talked too damn much.
Gabs had always insisted that she was a genius first and an Artificer second. The only one of the Wolves with a (genuine) college education, she’d taken her book smarts and fascination with all things ‘Industrial’ and become a truly useful member of society, now working as a tenured professor by day and hobbyist inventor by night within the hallowed halls of Bullcross University.
Which meant, of course, that Gabs Dominguez brushed shoulders daily with Goblins of all shapes and sizes.
Wolf had never felt comfortable stepping into a place of learning. Today, this feeling of unease was only amplified by the fact that Bullcross University had, in the last thirty years, become the preeminent hub of collaboration between human scholars and Goblin Industrialists. Indeed, the world’s first light bulb was invented here, the result of a joint effort between Gabs herself and a Goblin called Neeko Tess’lar. The university regularly hosted international conferences of Industrial Magic, including a particularly large-scale one this very week, no doubt to coincide with the Urlking’s visit.
All that added up to a highly on-edge Wolf von Leid (even more so than usual) as all of her senses—visual, auditory, olfactory, and [WILD]—flared and danced at the slightest provocation, as she and the rest of the now nearly complete Wolfpack made their way through the historic university town of Bullcross.
Green-, blue-, and amber-skinned men with pointed ears, glowing eyes, toothy underbites, and cheekbones for days, all dressed in the broadcloth tailcoats and bowler hats that were the current fashion among academics. Distinctly guttural speech, fluently Franzish yet jarringly foreign: an accent that could only be produced (Wolf imagined) by gnashing one’s teeth at the expulsion of every consonant. And their scent: earthy, metallic, blending seamlessly into the land and its cavernous innards—in a word, mountainous.
Yes. To Wolf von Leid, Goblins always smelled of the mountains, both familiar and alien. As such, she had trouble forcing her senses to differentiate them from the untamed creatures she grew up with—and ones in whose company she’d taken refuge for the last thirty years. Even now, it took every ounce of her willpower to remind herself that these Goblins on the streets of Bullcross were neither prey nor predator, that they were merely citizens of the world, going about their evening.
Easier reminded of than acted upon. Presently, Wolf jumped, as loud guttural roars erupted behind her. She turned, hand instinctively reaching for the knife at her belt, only to find a group of students that had spilled out of the local tavern. The young Goblins didn’t so much as glance toward the party of aging human women that had passed them by, and the ‘roars’ Wolf had heard had merely been a chorus of inebriated laughter.
Then a gloved hand fell gently upon her tensed shoulder, and she turned to find Eddie smiling at her knowingly.
“I know old habits die hard,” the Tactician said in a low voice, “but tonight of all nights, we mustn’t draw attention to ourselves.”
Eddie was as good as her own word, having put on something of a ‘disguise’ for the occasion, in the form of tinted spectacles and a bonnet that covered her strikingly silver hair.
“I know,” Wolf said gruffly, sliding her hand away from her belt. She too had ‘changed’, if only to rid herself of a days-old stench. Even so, she couldn’t get away from her usual trench-coat-and-beret combo, which she was self-aware enough to know skirted the lines of anonymity. “It’s just… how quickly we all forget, eh? It wasn’t that long ago that the Urlking carted off a train full of Franzish children, never to be seen again and for God knows what reason. Only thirty years later, and it’s like humans and Goblins have been chums all along, drinking and laughing, arm-in-arm.”
“Is [EMBRITTLE],” Linlin sidled over to offer her twopence. “Effects more prominent in first years after last departure. Now stronger again, as Urlking draw near.”
“And it’s not just the Urlking’s magic,” Eddie added, with the beginning of a frown. “Say what you will about the Goblins, but the Industrial Magic they’ve shared with us… it’s strengthened Franzmark like nothing before it. Even if we managed to lift [EMBRITTLE]… I’m not so sure that there're too many Franzishmen who would want to go back to the old ways.”
Wolf raised an eyebrow as she gave Eddie a sidelong look. The way the Tactician said those words… almost as if she were one of these Franzishmen who would prefer to uphold the status quo, as far as Goblins were concerned.
“Have I been in the mountains for too long?” Wolf blurted with a hint of accusation. “Are you all secretly [EMBRITTLED] out of your minds, and I’ve just been running a fool’s errand all this time?”
Salt Bolton was the first to respond, with one of her trademark snorts.
“Watch who yer callin’ a fool, missy,” Pepper translated. “We’re the ones who did all the ground work while you were busy prancin’ around with yer rabbits and squirrels.”
“What Salt’s trying to say,” Eddie hurried to translate some more, “is that the job never left our minds for thirty years. It’s what kept us united. Kept us sane and grounded while the world changed all around us. You can trust us, Wolf. You can trust me.”
Even through the tint of her spectacles, Eddie’s blazing eyes burned a hole in Wolf, until the latter was forced to turn away to hide a flush in her cheeks. Her [WILD SENSE] remained unclouded, which meant Eddie hadn’t resorted to [COMPEL], but she might as well have, with the tune she got out of Wolf.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Forget it,” the Assassin mumbled, almost to herself. “I know better than to question the acumen and readiness of the great Eddie Hofstra. Just lead the way… and I’ll follow.”
On this occasion, Eddie led the whole group into the mossy bowels of Buchanan Hall, a faculty building that also doubled as a steamworks museum. Gabs Dominguez had agreed to meet them in the basement here, where she supposedly had free rein to work on her extracurricular projects to her heart's content.
On their way to the basement, the group passed through a rather pompous hallway lined with portraits of retired scholars and notable alumni. About one in every three or four of these paintings depicted a Goblin, which shouldn’t have surprised Wolf anymore, but she made note of it nonetheless. Then, just as they neared the end of the hallway, one painting in particular caught her eye, enough to halt her in her tracks.
Green skin. Prominent underbite to house a pair of impressive tusks. An overserious expression, made all the dourer by the academician’s gown that wrapped around his broad shoulders. He should’ve been no more conspicuous than the dozen other Goblins that lined the walls, and yet…
Wolf jumped again, as she felt a gloved hand fall upon her shoulder and grip it with unusual strength. She then turned to meet Eddie’s hard unsmiling eyes. Her [WILD SENSE] churned noticeably, though this… this wasn’t [COMPEL]. Something else. Something dark, hateful and—
“What’s the matter, Wolf?” Eddie spoke in her usual silky voice. Even her smile had returned, so abruptly and completely as to make Wolf wonder if she and her [WILD SENSE] hadn’t just imagined the darkness. “I know you don’t trust the Goblins, but these ones can’t hurt you.”
“Right,” Wolf muttered, trying her utmost to match the Tactician’s apparent calmness. “Don’t mind me. Just thought I saw someone I recognized, that’s all.”
A loud snort, courtesy again of Salt Bolton.
“Yer tellin’ us, all these years up in the mountains, you’ve been shackin’ it up with a Goblin fella?” Sometimes, it was impossible to tell where Salt ended and Pepper began. “To think how you were lecturin’ us earlier, all high and mighty. ’Sides, he’s a little young for you, innit?”
Eddie laughed—a lilting music that wormed its way into Wolf’s heart with its guileless warmth. Pepper joined in, and even Linlin cracked an almost chagrined smile.
Wolf too wanted to smile… and found that she couldn’t. This was the Wolfpack, she tried to remind herself. Her Wolfpack, same as it’d ever been, just the way she’d left them thirty years ago. And yet…
“You’re one to talk, Salt.” In lieu of a smile, Wolf settled for a snide retort. Just like old times. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about all the fresh meat you had hanging around your arms back in the day. You too, Pepper. I know you two liked to share. Maybe you still do?”
Salt grunted appreciatively.
“Salt!” Pepper yelped, scandalized. “I’m not repeating that.”
Wolf did smile then, and followed it up with a wry chuckle. That proved enough to diffuse the tension in her shoulders, which Eddie promptly acknowledged by letting go. The group resumed their march down the hallway, and Wolf hastened to join them, but not before one last glance at the Goblin—this time at the placard underneath the portrait.
Viktor Gabbro, MA in Boilersmithing
The name meant nothing to Wolf, which did help to put her further at ease. Whatever connection she thought she’d had with this Goblin who, as Salt Bolton had observed, was at least several decades younger than her, she’d likely imagined it.
The group then made their way into the dimly lit basement of Buchanan Hall, which appeared to be well and truly deserted. The exclusivity of the location and the lateness of the hour combined to ensure that, here, the Wolfpack needed not worry about prying eyes nor wall-climbing ears.
In turn, Wolf’s [WILD SENSE] perked up again, this time honing in on a metallic clinking that issued from the distance. Then, as she followed her packmates deeper into the basement, this unfamiliar sound gained in intensity and urgency, until—
A spark of lightning shot forth from an open door, momentarily brightening the entire hallway along with the shocked faces of the Wolfpack members. Then, as the lightning faded, so too did all other light in the basement, throwing everything into pitch darkness. This was followed by a loud human voice—more specifically, a string of angry and increasingly colourful curses—that streamed out from the same room that had just spat out lightning.
One light source came back on, in the form of a dim orange glow that now trickled out of the room in question. In response, the Wolfpack moved as a collective unit, flocking to the light like moths to flame. Inside the room stood a lone figure, who cut herself off mid-curse to look up at the new arrivals.
Gabs Dominguez had gone the other way of the Bolton twins, having lost noticeable weight in the intervening decades. Still as tall as ever, however, she was a spindly beanpole of a grey-haired woman, who now stared at her old packmates with an oil lamp in hand and eyes simmering with indignation. Her attire could best be described as eclectic, with a plain white smock providing the base, along with all manner of metallic contraptions spilling out of leather belts and straps.
“Oh, wonderful,” she exclaimed by way of greeting, dripping with familiar sarcasm. “Here comes the cavalry, here to make my night go from bad to worse. Let me guess. You’re all here to try and rope me into another one of your hare-brained schemes. With promises of a noble cause, sweet vengeance, and vanquishment of evil. The fearsome Urlking and his terrible Goblin army, brought to heel at last, never to whisk another human child into the chuffing maws of despair and innocence lost. Well, since I seem to be the only sane one around here, it falls to me to tell you: forget it! Or at least count me out. What you’re proposing isn’t just naive, foolish, and incredibly risky. It’s impossible. And if you can’t see that, well then, the Urlking is the least of your worries.”
About halfway through listening to the speech, a genuine smile finally reached Wolf’s eyes. By the end of it, her whole face had brightened into a beaming grin. Yes… this was Gabs, alright. Just like old times.
Once again, Eddie Hofstra was the quickest among the group to react (not that the others would’ve had any trouble, given the eternity they’d had to compose a response). She strode over to Gabs in two quick steps, then planted a playful peck on the skinny Artificer’s cheek. The ensuing blush was visible even in the dim lighting. For all her haughty attitude and caustic words, Gabs Dominguez always had a soft spot for the leader of the Wolfpack, and that evidently hadn’t changed in the intervening years. Although… Wolf wasn’t really one to talk.
“It’s lovely to see you too, Gabs,” Eddie now said in her silky voice and with her heartbreaker smile. “And I do have to apologize. I was busy marvelling at how splendidly you’ve kept your figure all these years, and I’ve missed half of what you said. What were you telling us just now? Something about your new ideas on how to make the impossible… possible?”
Gabs flashed Eddie an exasperated look, then let out an exasperated sigh as she turned to the rest of the Wolfpack.
“Oh, go on then, take a seat, all of you. Let me walk you through exactly how we’re going to bring the Urlking to heel.”