"So the Queen will not get here and explain herself?” I ask.

“The Queen does not explain herself to you. Is there a problem?” Daldrag says, towering over me.

“No pro- Can you not?” I gasp.

“Try moving less, then.” The doctor says, stitching me up.

I am on a table, inside Snaray’s tent, waiting for the thing I have been working towards these past few weeks.

“Zamayular, want to explain?” I urge him.

“Of course. I am sure you know about the irregular weather patterns and how they have affected the animals and such.” Zamayular sees me nod. “It seems to have a link to our problems in the south. Problems that the gray goblins should have solved by now. But I cannot fully blame them. They did request reinforcements and inform us about the severity of the issue.”

“Told you.” Snaray says, using a side table to read on a map.

“We sent a few troops there but all ambushes ended in failure. The few goblins that returned spoke of a strong group. A human wielding a crossbow, an elf wizard that carries a unique staff, an orc fighter wielding a greataxe and two hammers, a dwarf with a sword and shield and an iminya that used her bare hands.”

“Sorry, iminya?” I ask.

“You do not know them?” Zamayular seems to find it amusing. “You will see them soon.”

“Ominous…” I grunt.

“Done.” The doctor says, finishing the final stitches.

“Do not get bandages.” I get off the table.

“Why?” The doctor asks.

“We are not just going to attack them, right? I could always sneak in. But, keep going, what else do you know?”

“I have sensed they are in the middle of some rituals, using necromancy. Dead goblins used against the ones still alive.”

“The dead? What type of magic is that?” I whisper.

As usual, the more I learn, the more I realize I have not seen anything of this world I live in. I want to travel. I want to see. What adventures could be out there, waiting for me?

“Same as all else. Dangerous.” Snaray says.

“The gray goblins have an aversion to magic that keeps them weak. We do not feel the same.” Zamayular responds.

“Where are all the gray hobgoblins?” I ask.

“Why? Want to tell your friends?” Daldrag finally contributes to the conversation.

“Fighting elsewhere.” Snaray says.

“I see.” I respond, ignoring Daldrag. “What are these rituals for?”

“They use magic from the area and bring back a few bodies of the dead. They seem to be tests of some kind. How long the bodies last, how long it takes to summon them. But we still do not know what they are working up to. Still, we cannot let them siphon any more magic from these grounds. It creates problems for all of us. Do you not agree, Volter?” Zamayular grins.

I wonder what the gray hobgoblins are fighting. I should ask Snaray at some point.

“Yes. So, I go in on my own. We cut me up, make my armor look muddy and messy, find their camp and send me in, pretending that I am running away from goblins. All you have to do is point out the camp to me and stay there ready to fight.” I explain.

“That could actually work.” Zamayular contemplates. “Give us an opening that ambushes so far have failed to procure.”

“And we can trust this kid?” Daldrag says.

“You know what, big guy. How about you go?” I snap.

Daldrag moves closer, pushing away any furniture in his path.

“Come on. You do not need a weakling like me, right? Go prove yourself to your Queen.” My eye’s magic flares up.

“Calm down, both of you.” Zamayular says. “Daldrag. Remember the Queen’s plan.”

“Of course.” Daldrag responds, sitting on the ground with some weight.

“I think it can work.” I say.

“What would the plan be? Kill them all in their sleep? They would not leave you alone.” Snaray explains.

“I can see what they are working on. Learn their weaknesses and give you an opening.”

“Better than our previous methods.” Zamayular says. “Since you seem to name us based on colour, you will approach their camp tonight, along with the black goblins.”

“You do not? You just called them gray goblins a minute ago.” I say.

“It was painfully obvious you did, so I tried communicating in a way you would understand. All the others are doing the same. Even Snaray.” Zamayular explains.

“Right. So, we go at night. We better work on my equipment.” I say, walking out of the tent.

The hours could not pass slower. With my armor and weapons ready, my looks completely covered with mud, there is not much to do but wait for the Sun to go down.

The plan is a mess, but I do not have the best of relationships to work with here. Synergy will have to wait. I also have no time, which happens to be sort of necessary for intricate plans.

I finally meet with all the goblins outside the mines, ready to go.

“You are coming with?” I ask.

“For now.” Snaray says. “Do not expect me to climb another troll’s back.”

We both chuckle, feeling the pressure.

He is the only gray goblin coming with me.

“Are you sure it is safe on your own?” I lean closer.

“Now that you killed my enemies? For sure.”

Daldrag comes out, communicating with the black goblins.

“They will bring you close to their camp. Do not get into a fight. They have to stay far away to avoid any problems.” He says.

“I can barely see them in the dark.” I sigh.

“That is why they are the main force in any night skirmishes and the best ambushers we have.” Snaray explains.

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“Makes sense. Are we going?”

“Follow me.” Daldrag moves after the black goblins.

“You are coming with?” I say, rather loudly.

“Problem?” He grins.

“No. Actually, I feel better. Nice to know we have some strength with us if things go bad.” I follow.

“No more talking.” He responds.

There is no doubt in my mind. He was not expecting that.

“But, really? Even your daughter used colours.” I say.

“She probably wanted you to understand her.” Snaray responds.

– - - - –

I take back what I said about time. The hours somehow go by even slower than before, given that I cannot talk to Snaray in front of all these goblins. Not the way I want, anyhow. I spend the time trying to come up with a separate plan, one for when I am inside the camp. The problem is I do not even know what I am going to have to deal with when I have reached that point.

The air is chilly and the ground reeks because of the rain. I avoid using my magic to see better, making sure I have all my strength in case of a fight. The night birds around us croak and chirp but they do not seem particularly agitated to our presence.

“We are here.” Daldrag whispers.

If he is trying to be careful, this must be one tough situation I find myself in. He has been moving lower to the ground and with more care these past few hours than when he ambushed me.

Snaray drags me by the one functional arm, pointing at the presence of light. Just this once, I use my magic to see clearer in the dark.

We are in an area of thick greenery and plenty of trees, hiding from a distant spot of smoke.

These goblins can just see this well in the dark? They would clearly have the advantage if I was faced against them.

“Stand further back. I am going out in the open. Let us see if I can get their attention.” I whisper.

All the goblins comply, checking their weapons, probably more out of habit. Slings, short bows, knives. The one weapon that draws my attention is a piece of wood, carved into a straight, hollow piece of equipment which the goblins test by blowing darts against a tree.

It reminds me of the darts that the Tree Beasts sent flying when Meuko was saving my life.

I wonder if my friends are ready to help down here. Maybe even save me.

It is unlikely they patrol at nights and I do not even know how to draw their attention.

I walk past the treeline and approach the hill that the smoke is coming out of. The hill itself is pretty barren, with the exception of the occasional patches of green. I blink my magic sight away. I do not want them to detect my magic.

I cannot express how much I would love to have Sylvar’s support. Or Meuko’s. I would even take Alayne’s help at this point.

But, I am alone. And there is no room for mistakes here. Every step towards the top of the hill builds up the pressure in my head.

I have to figure out a way to announce myself without appearing threatening.

Throwing something? No.

Shouting? Too sudden.

I know what to do.

I whistle, holding my hand up.

After a few seconds there is a collective rustling and metal clanging.

The darkness makes my ears jump at the slightest of sounds.

They are on the move.

I whistle once more, imitating some playful bird noises.

“Help me.” I whisper.

Please, do not kill me. Please, do not kill me. Plea-

I am surrounded by the group. Crossbow pointing at my head, hammer held against me, the iminya holding a dagger right up my chest.

I can tell it is the iminya, looking completely different from the rest of the species I am used to encountering. Its hands are sharper. Hardened, as if the bones are trying to carve themselves out of the skin that contains them.

Its legs are bigger than mine, with knees that look like lethal weapons by themselves.

“Goblins.” I whisper.

“Keep your mouth shut.” The iminya growls, leaning the knife closer to my throat.

I nod. Acting exhausted is not even that hard. I had a fight and a lack of proper, continuous sleep for weeks. I definitely look as much of a mess as I want them to think.

“Not here.” The orc holding the hammer says.

As soon as I see a rope, I flinch.

“I am injured. Cannot move it.” I point at my right arm.

The iminya punches me in the face. The force alone throws me down. I do not even want to think of the pain I will face if I do something threatening.

They tie my hand behind my back and place a piece of cloth in my mouth.

Not worrying at all.

It is not as if I want to shout. I would die before my reinforcements appeared out of the treeline.

They guide me on the other side of the hill, quickly gather their belongings and then blindfold me.

Someone picks me up as they start taking me elsewhere. It is a weird day when I hope the goblins can keep track of where I am.

They travel with haste for what feels like half an hour. Thankfully, I do not have to do the same blindfolded. Being carried has its perks.

With my muscles on fire and my heart ready to jump out of its body, I am not having a lot of happy thoughts. I certainly lack options.

Endure.

Here is good enough.” A growling voice.

I hear branches snapping apart and grinding. They are making a fire. This is good. The goblins will see the fire. At lea-

“Shout and you die. Run, you die. Fight-”

“I die.” I mumble through the cloth.

The iminya’s sneer means they do not take kindly to my interruption but they take my blindfold and the smelly mouth cloth off.

“Finally.” I gasp. “Being carried around hurts more than I thought.”

The fire gives enough light for me to see but its not as bright as I am used to. This is not a way of lighting a fire that I am used to. They have it on dug ground, so it does not give off light around the trees, only directly above it. It is also next to a particular tree, so the smoke follows the trunk, hiding a good part of the smoke trail. The top of the hole is covered by a thin sheet of metal, helping with the hiding of the light itself.

They are good at this. Perfect. I am probably all alone.

Can I use magic with my hands tied? I have never trained for a situation like this one.

“First things first, who are you?” An elderly voice behind me.

I turn around as if somebody is about to stab me. I cannot help instinct. It guides me before I can even think about it.

“Do not worry, young man. We are simply cautious, not distrustful.” The old man says.

He can see the stress in my eyes.

“Talk about yourself. He moves another inch, I shoot him.” The man holding the crossbow says.

I can tell by the way he is holding it. It is relaxed on the ground so he does not tire his arms but his legs are ready to push it up into firing position.

Sylvar has mentioned crossbows, as has Blago. Slower than bows but they come in variations, just like Sylvar’s ranged weapon. Some can break through armor easier, some can be use with one arm, making them more versatile indoors and so on.

“He must have some information. There is use in him.” The dwarf says, sword at hand and shield strapped behind her back.

“A name will have to suffice.” The old man says.

He is wearing a coat with a similar design to Modesta’s. Full of runic scripture, faintly glowing in places. He is holding a metal staff, reinforced with rods spiraling downwards, forming a base that can be placed on the ground.

“I am Volter.”

“Just Volter?” The old man says.

I am pretty sure he is a magician.

“Never had another name.”

“What about your surname?” This kid is mocking us.” The dwarf says.

“Can we do something about the whole rope thing? I only have one usable arm.”

“I do not like this.” The crossbow man says.

I am more used to the goblins. These people are not underestimating me. Not even for a second. Are they just being paranoid?

“I believe we can spare the rope.” The old man says.

Same instinct. As if his mere existence threatens me. My eye itches. For the first time, I feel like my eye wants to be used. Needs to.

“Fine.” The iminya grunts.

Its body is full of sharp edges, bones turned into weapons. Other than the one dagger, it has no other weapons. It wears baggy pants and clothing with some basic padding around the shoulders and the chest. No armor.

It probably fights like Meuko. Not as big, though.

“We can break his neck later.” The big orc says.

I wonder if Thando is stronger.

“Or use him as a training log.” The man with the crossbow says.

“Name.” The iminya says as soon as it cuts me free.

“Just Volter. I was adopted when I was a kid.”

“And they never gave you their family name? Cruel parents, to deny their adopted son a legacy.” The old man says.

“Never saw it that way.” I say.

Do not show anger. Just stay alive as long as possible.

I thought they would welcome me.

Injured, running away from goblins, no threat, great personality. I thought wrong.

“How did you end up like this.” The dwarf sighs. “I am tired. We can get the basic things out and then go to sleep, right?”

Everyone, except the old man, nods.

“I was hunting with my group. We got ambushed by goblins. They got away. I was caught.”

Did they all get away? What if Julie or Meuko died? Is that why Sylvar is hunting goblins?

No. Not now. They must be safe. Just concentrate on the thing in front of you, Volter. Do not let the pain and exhaustion cloud your thoughts

“There is no way. This guy is lying.” The orc says.

Guy? I am always referred to as the kid.

Do I seriously look that threatening? I have not looked at my visage in a long time. I really want to jump in a river right now. Clean the muck of weeks off.

“I believe he is not. Rather true. His injuries, that is.” The old man responds.

I only now notice his eyes. Flashing green. Can he see my wounds even with armor on? Useful ability.

Wait.

What else can he see? I suddenly feel exposed.

“How did you cross the storms?” The iminya asks.

“The what? Sure, the weather is weird lately. Nothing I cannot handle.”

“This guy is a mess. Just let me finish him off. We can bury him, keep our mission going.” The man says, crossbow at the ready.

“Look, I- I am tired. I just need some sleep and I will answer all your questions.”

“We can offer the young one that much. Zordel, you take first watch. Now, make my tent.” The old magician says, walking away.

Everyone complies with his wishes. I drop my body like dead weight, right next to the fire.

I just have to make the night.

“In need of some company?” The iminya snarls.

“I guess you are Zordel. Nice to meet you.” I sigh.

Easier said than done.