The three elves counted seven wolves going in and out of the den. They left in groups of two or three to hunt. They came back with meat from kills. There were probably two or three mothers about to give birth or who had already given birth.

The elves spread out in the trees surrounding the den entrance. They began to pick off the active wolves with arrows, one by one. In a day, all seven were dead, and we were seven gold pieces richer. Before they left, Cloud Eye started a large fire using charcoal at the mouth of the den and then felled a tree to block it. The tree would keep the remaining wolves inside, and the charcoal fire would exhaust all the good air in the den so the mothers and cubs would die of sleeping asphyxiation. We didn’t claim any credit for the wolves trapped inside the den since we had no proof we had killed them.

“I noticed a funny thing about those wolves,” Cloud said that evening as we packed up to leave. “They were red wolves. I’ve never seen red wolves this far west before.”

“How far west do they usually roam?” Cat asked.

“Osterius,” Cloud rolled up a pair of stockings. “Red wolves don’t like our drier climate. They like the big forests with trees that lose their leaves every year. The blue wolves are the ones who like our evergreen forests and the high plateaus.”

The Goblin Queen had sent one of her hobgoblin soldiers with the horses. They called them horses, but from an elven perspective, they were ponies. If Motley Owl didn’t use the stirrups, he could brush the ground with his toes.

It took a bit of maneuvering to get Cat on one of the horses. He was too short and not strong enough to mount on his own. Motley Owl finally walked over, picked Cat up, and put him in the saddle. Cat pouted for the rest of the morning. Owl sometimes forgets how touchy Cat is about being short and weak.

The hobgoblin was a taller version of the goblin farmers but with a far worse personality. Our hobgoblin was called Tweed, and he was unpleasant to be charitable. He wore leather scale armor and an iron helmet. He had a short sword hanging from a scabbard on his belt and a round shield slung over his back. What one could see of his face reminded me of a potato, only colored green.

Tweed didn’t like the black masks my hunting party wore that covered everything above the mouth. He also took an immediate dislike to Cat Rider. “Stinks like human excrement,” Tweed would mutter every chance he could get, making sure he was within Cat’s earshot.

That remark displeased me. Cougars have good noses; not as good as dogs, but certainly better than goblins. My boy smells like elven soap. Trust me on this. Tweed didn’t even acknowledge I existed. I believe he thought I was some kind of pet.

As we left the hospitable goblins of Cedar Stands, Wren rode up alongside me since I didn’t get a horse. “Look, Fuzzy,” Wren pointed back at the village palisade with an evil grin. “They took your decoration suggestion.” I turned to look. Several goblins were using their magic to make every pole in the palisade a different color.

“Petel sent a message to all the neighboring villages telling them about this,” Wren chortled in a most sinister manner. “Who knew what a great influence you would have on goblin aesthetics, Fuzz.” This greatly amused Wren.

We passed through three villages before we stopped for the night at the fourth. The village head escorted us to the guest house and ushered us in. Owl and Cloud started to lead the horses around back. Just as I put my paw on the front step, a boot lifted my chin and pushed me backward.

“Animals stay in the shed,” Tweed declared.

Everyone froze as I tumbled backward. I picked myself up out of the dirt and shook the dust off. I sat down and took a deep breath. Then I let it out slowly. I relaxed my shoulders and looked at the hobgoblin with a death wish.

“Fuzzy! No!” Cat shouted.

I sprang and took Tweed down, a paw on each shoulder.

*My hunting party has five members: three fighters and two mages. I am the second mage, and I like sleeping on mattresses.* I stepped over him as I walked inside. There were no more incidents like that one, but Tweed’s attitude didn’t change.

By the end of the second day, I was out of patience with the ill-behaved hobgoblin. I cast the healing spell to cure constipation on Tweed when we stopped for the night in another small goblin village. I’m sure it was not a nice thing to do, but whoever said I had to be nice to people who insulted my boy as frequently as breathing?

Tweed had the runs so badly by morning that we had to leave without him. It was such a shame. We cheerfully took his map and the road pass and went our merry way. For the rest of the day, Cat kept giving me these suspicious looks. I can’t imagine why. I was doing my best to appear completely innocent.

I found the goblin kingdom to be a pleasant place. The little green people with round heads were peaceful farmers. Once they got over their initial caution, they were friendly. They liked that we were here to hunt down dangerous animals. The only downside I could see was their terrible taste in decoration which only got worse the closer we came to Kizdangengar.

In the larger towns, the houses got taller, where every outside wall and every story was a different color. So a four-sided two-story house would host eight different colors, with contrasting shutters, of course. I also noticed one other strangeness about the colors of goblin buildings: they never used green.

On the seventh day of travel, we came to a great fortification: a wall at least ten yards high stretching off into the distance on either side. In front of us was a great gate with two towers flanking it. In the distance, I could see more gates like this one. Nasty-looking ballistae were loaded and ready, though not aimed at anything. I could see the helmets of patrolling hobgoblins pacing back and forth.

We politely got into the long line with all the goblins who were walking or riding on wagons of produce. The elves dismounted, but Cat stayed in the saddle since it was as hard to dismount as it was to mount. Cat had to have help, and Owl helped him, but the boy was fragile around this issue. It was such a worry.

Given the extra mobility and height the pony gave Cat, he struck up conversations with the goblins in the wagons surrounding us. That was an interesting thing about my boy: he could make a friend with almost everyone he met. And it wasn’t an act on his part. He was honestly interested in people. The people he talked to could feel his sincere interest.

He soon had the goblins in line describing what they did for a living. The wagon in back of us had distilled alcohol spirits made from potatoes. The couple driving the wagon came from a village specializing in potato products. Before long, everyone around us was listening to Cat interview this couple about their village, all the varieties of potatoes they grew, and all the different things they made from potatoes. The potato liquor in their wagon was part of their yearly taxes.

Cat also engaged an older goblin wearing glasses and an official’s black robe. The goblin drove a smart one-horse cart with the words “Equalizer’s Office” painted on it. Being clueless about what that was, Cat soon had the older goblin discussing how the goblin kingdom was one unified economy. The Equalizer’s Office kept the records of who was having a great harvest and who was having trouble because of things like wildlife or drought. Then the Equalizer’s Office would balance the distribution of goods so that no village faced famine or a lack of shelter after a disaster. The office would also adjust taxes accordingly. If something were badly out of balance, the Queen or the Army would intervene.

“So if a village or ward specialized in one kind of product or trade, what happens if someone wants to do something different or learn a different trade from what a village or ward specialized in, sir?” Cat was curious.

“Oh my,” the goblin smiled, “before I answer your question, I will point out that I’m not a sir; I’m a ma’am.”

“I am so sorry,” Cat turned red with embarrassment. “I meant no offense. Please, accept…”

“Say no more, young sir,” the goblin raised a restraining hand and smiled. “It is difficult for other races to determine the gender of a goblin who is not breeding. I am not offended.”

“Thank you for being so understanding,” Cat smiled his best-winning smile. “We are guests here, and I would not want to insult anyone by accident.”

“Your consideration is commendable, young sir. But back to your question,” the goblin smiled again. “I know other races find this difficult to understand, but if a goblin truly wishes to leave a family trade, that goblin will marry into another family and move to another village to learn that different occupation. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. Most follow the family trade, like me. I was born into a ward, which is the city equivalent of a village. My ward specializes in balancing and distribution services for the Equalizer’s Office. As a child, I knew I would grow up to do this work. I have never doubted it. It gives me joy to do this job. I can not even imagine wanting to do something else.”

“Are all goblins like this?” Cat Rider was astounded. I admit I was too.

“For the most part, yes,” the goblin bureaucrat answered. “We tend to value the community’s health over the individual wishes of just one person. The great downside is that other races, especially humans and dwarves, tend to misunderstand goblin society. We are closest to the elves in the importance we give to the family and the community. Have I lost you yet?”

Cat blinked, “I’m not sure. This is all new to me.”

“You may or may not have noticed, but we do not engage in trade often,” the lady bureaucrat remarked. “The problem is that the sale of commodities benefits the village and not any one farmer or shepherd or wrangler. A human merchant usually does not understand that there is no such thing as a sole goblin merchant. Our way of life causes strife with outsiders who do not understand us. That’s why we lean toward closing our borders to others who can’t accept how we do things. I see your brow is clouded, and you are struggling, young sir. But you are young still and can bend your mind easily to understand other people’s ways.”

“I think I get it,” Cat’s frown could be seen behind his mask. “It explains to me for the first time why the mercers guilds of Nordvek protested so strongly that their traders had to come to Kizdangengar to buy grain or wool instead of trading in the smaller communities closer to the border. If the flow of commodities is managed by a centralized bureau of government, then it makes sense to deal with that bureau. Not doing so could upset the import-export trade balance between the two kingdoms. For a centralized economy such as you described, it could be disastrous if trade got badly unbalanced.”

“Exactly right!” The bureaucrat beamed. “You do understand. The mercers of Nordvek are still unhappy with the arrangement. What would you suggest to balance relations with the humans? Just as a hypothetical question, young sir.”

“Yes, I think I do understand,” Cat frowned deeper. “I’m sure most of the mercers objected because it’s further to travel to the capital to do business instead of making deals closer to home. The travel distance is the objection because of the cost and the time. So establish a satellite office at the border or send a goblin official with the power to make deals to the Nordvek capital. To make it equitable, do it every other year, and on odd years, the humans can come to you. That’s what I’d suggest.”

“Hmm, I think I’ll suggest that to the boss,” the goblin nodded and adjusted her glasses. “Where are you and your colleagues headed?”

“To wherever the goblin queen meets people,” Cat said. “We are an elven hunting party, and the queen invited us because we have experience with wyverns.”

“So you are on your two years of adventuring? Why hunting instead of working the caravan or mercenary trades?”

“Well, it’s because we have the best hunter living in the elven lands as part of our group,” Cat smiled. “We thought that would give us an advantage if we offered our services as hunters.”

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

“So, who is this stalwart of hunting?” The bureaucrat looked over the three elves in front of her just now approaching the gate guards.

“It’s Fuzzy,” Cat said, looking around for me. “Fuzzy?”

I was walking on the other side of his pony. I think the boy is blind sometimes. I meowed at him.

“Oh, there you are, Fuzzy. This lady wants to meet you. Come over to this side of the horse.”

“Oh my,” the goblin lady stood and bowed, “look at you and your blue eyes. I am pleased to meet you. Is this young sir yours?”

I nodded.

“Cat,” Cloud Eye called, “We’re up. Get over here.”

“Excuse me,” Cat made a brief bow from the saddle and heeled the pony to the gate.

I wondered when they would remember me when one of the hobgoblins at the gate sniffed at Cat and then yanked down his hood, exposing his round ears.

“Hey, this elf’s a human! We don’t allow humans on a pass for elves.” The four gate guards surrounded Cat and leveled their halberds at him.

“If you so much as disturb a single hair on his head, you will die, and there will be war between the goblins and the elves, fool,” Roaming Wren snarled with her composite laminated hunting recurve at full draw and four arrows on the string. Yes, she was that good to shoot four arrows and strike all her targets at such a short distance.

Then I heard the creak of Cloud Eye’s longbow as he came to full draw with four more arrows.

“He is the adopted son of Storm Eagle, King of the Green Elves,” Cloud Eyes stated, “and my companion here is Princess Roaming Wren, fourth daughter of the Elf King. You would already know this if you had bothered to look at our travel documents. Put your weapons up, and we can talk this out.”

No one moved. The hobgoblin soldiers glared at my two-footeds, and my two-footeds glared back. It did not escape my notice that Owl had throwing spikes in his hands, ready to throw.

A hobgoblin officer in a chainmail hauberk and plumed helmet came running out of a door, followed by a dozen more soldiers. This could turn sour very quickly. I debated what to do when I noticed Cat was chanting quietly and felt magic gathering. What was he doing?

The officer and his soldiers tripped and fell. I couldn’t tell why. I heard a pandemonium of colorful goblin swearwords from them, which I would never repeat in public.

“Garkparzel!” One of the original four soldiers with the halberds swore and lost his balance. His halberd descended toward my boy as he fell.

*Εασιλλι, ἰκ σμεεκ δ, τρανσφορμεαρjε δ ἑλλεβααρδεν ν βρεα,* I improvised in a panicked hurry. And then I quickly added *Εασιλλι, ἰκ σμεεκ δ, τρανσφορμεαρjε δ πλκεν ν σηφτ σûκερσûκελ,* when I saw Wren and Cloud shoot their arrows.

The halberds turned to bread, and the arrows turned to soft taffy. Cat deflected the descending bread halberd with his walking stick. The taffy arrows, all eight of them, hit their targets. Then I realized why the soldiers had tripped: all of their trousers and underpants had fallen down. The situation was so tense, and the dropped pants so hysterical in contrast that I let out a loud yowl of laughter.

I didn’t intend this to happen, but my yowl drew every eye to me. Oh well. I would see what I could do to defuse the situation. *Μεμ Γοαδιννε, jου μν τινζεν δε jυκκεν ὀμ τροχ ἐλκενιεν τε εἁρρεν!* I cast mind talking on myself.

“Goodness, you are also a mage,” the lady bureaucrat looked at me with a surprised expression, though I noted she had tied off the reins of her horse and had stepped out of her cart. I didn’t spend any more time on her, though. I mentally cleared my throat so everyone could hear me and walked forward.

I strolled casually forward, ready to cast a spell to freeze everyone in place if needed. It turned out to be unnecessary. I padded up to the officer, who tried to slide back away from me. I stepped on his dropped trousers, and that stopped him. I walked onto his abdomen and sniffed his face.

*Well, Leftenant, you don’t seem to smell like a fool, so let me give you a little advice. I do have your undivided attention, yes?*

“You can talk?” the poor hobgoblin looked rather gobsmacked.

*Well, I am a magical creature, so yes, I can talk. See that boy behind me? The one with the round ears who is the son of the King of the Green Elves, adopted and raised by the King? He just happens to be my charge. I am his protector.*

I leaned forward and growled so everyone could hear me. *I would take it very poorly if he got hurt because some soldier didn’t do his proper job of reading my boy’s travel documents. I’ve never eaten a hobgoblin before, but there’s a first time for everything. So I suggest that you folks pull your pants back up, and we can start this over and forget this little misunderstanding, yes?*

I leaned a little more forward, so he stumbled back on his hands while staring at my big sharp fangs. I regretted that I worked hard to keep my teeth clean and my breath fresh. A little halitosis would have been a nice touch.

“That...that...that sounds like a good idea, lady mountain cat,” he nodded with such passion that his helm fell off.

*Very good. I knew you looked like a smart officer.* I made sure my tongue was good and wet and licked his face in approval. *Carry on.* I strolled away toward my boy, noting that Wren had turned around to hide her efforts not to laugh. I wished she would be a little more serious. I could only hope she would lose her bouts of childish behavior soon as she approached adulthood. In contrast, Cloud Eye looked pensive, and Owl looked troubled. My boy was frowning and giving me a concerned look. I stopped next to his pony and looked up at him.

*I liked the move with the pants. That was good, but next time, turn their weapons into something harmless like food or water. Just a suggestion.*

“It was the first thing that came to mind. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. That would have been bad,” he nodded. “I did think of levitating them instead, but dropping their pants took less energy. I’ll play around with changes in material and see how hard it is. I haven’t done a lot of that. I need to be more careful with my reserves since I don’t have your stamina.”

“How very interesting,” the tall lady bureaucrat appeared next to us in her flat hat and black gown. “So both of you are mages. You look so young to be a mage, young sir.”

“I’m 16. I look young for my age, ma’am,” Cat smiled in his harmless way. “I’m used to being taken as less experienced than I am.”

“So let me see if I have guessed right,” she smiled back with a friendly face. “You must be the talented young mage who brought down a snow wyvern with an entirely new spell two years ago at the home of the King of the Green Elves.” She turned to me, “And you are the divine beast who is his guardian. How extraordinary to meet you on the road. If you like, I can show you folks the way to the palace since I pass it on my way home.”

*You know a lot about us,* I remarked, studying her and wondering who she really was. I also wondered how old she was. It was difficult to tell with goblins because their skin didn’t age and wrinkle like humans.

“Well, I have a senior position in the government,” her friendly smile didn’t waver, “so I hear things at court. At this point, I should introduce myself. I am Magrat. I’m in charge of the Equalizer’s Office.”

“I am Cat Rider, and my furry friend here is Fuzzy,” he made a decent formal bow from horseback. “So when you said you’d mention my ideas about dealing with Nordvek mercers to the boss, you meant…?”

“Yes, the boss is the Queen,” she smiled that unwavering smile of hers. “You are an interesting young man, Cat Rider. I’m happy I had the chance to chat with you outside of the stifling rules of proper behavior at court.”

“Cat, Fuzzy, get over here,” Cloud Eye shouted, waving us to move up to the gate.

We took our leave of Magrat the Equalizer and approached the three real elves and a very calm hobgoblin leftenant, whose trousers were back in place.

“So, you are one Cat Rider, son of Storm Eagle. Is there a reason you haven’t dismounted? That’s the custom at gates, you know.” The leftenant was politely helpful.

“Well, I only have one foot,” Cat replied with his usual smile. “The one on this side is just a hunk of wood inside a boot,” he pointed at his left leg. “If you need me to dismount, I can do so, but it will take a minute because my companions have to lift me down.”

The leftenant had to think for a moment. “What about getting back up?”

“They have to lift me back onto the saddle,” Cat was apologetic. “I’m afraid I’m rather weak in my remaining leg and can’t mount by myself.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t like that,” the leftenant remarked.

“To be truthful, sir, I don’t like it much myself, but there’s not much I can do about it. It’s just the way that I am, so I live with it.”

“Huh,” the leftenant pondered a bit longer. I was waiting for the smoke to come out of his ears since he was working so hard at it.

“This here says there are five in your party, and one of you is a tame mountain cat,” he looked down at me, a little nervously, I might add. “You must be the tame mountain cat.”

*Well, sir, I am indeed a mountain cat. I would not go so far as to claim that I am tame.*

“I would agree with that assessment,” he stated, looking at me sideways. “Normally, I would have to correct that in your document, but the line behind you isn’t getting any shorter, so I will not hold you up any longer. You are free to enter Kizdangengar. Do you need directions to the palace?”

“Yes,” Cloud Eye said.

“No, Leftenant,” Magrat said, pulling up level with me and showing him an official-looking pass. “I pass the palace on my way home so I can take them there.”

The leftenant looked at the pass. I noted his eyes grew wide, and then he straightened, “Yes, ma’am. That would be most kind of you, ma’am.” He looked at us, “You should follow her ladyship. She will get you there safely. Have a pleasant stay in the capital, my elven friends and not-really-tame mountain cat.”

“Have you traveled the entire way here on your four feet? Would you like to get off them, Fuzzy?” Magrat asked. “The seat next to me is unoccupied.”

*I will take you up on that,* I hopped in and sat down. The seat wasn’t wide enough to lie down, but not having to walk for a change was nice.

“I haven’t had the chance to meet the rest of you,” the goblin said. “I am Magrat, and I work for the Equalizer’s Office. I’ve been chatting with Cat Rider and Fuzzy. The young lady is Princess Roaming Wren. I have seen you at court once or twice but haven’t had the pleasure of speaking with you before. The other two young elves I have not met yet.”

“It is most kind of you to show us the way. I am Cloud Eye, the King’s kin and son of his chief advisor. And this tall fellow here is Motley Owl.”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Owl performed a perfect courtly bow before mounting his pony.

“Would that be Motley Owl, son of the famous Blue Talon, the elven warrior who slew the Great Grey Worm of the Blasted Blight?” Magrat asked.

“You know of my father?” Owl was surprised.

“Everyone who lives west of the Green River owes your father a great debt for slaying that monster who left hundreds of thousands in fear of its attacks. To say that he was the greatest elven warrior of our time would not be an exaggeration,” Magrat clicked her tongue at her mare to start walking. “I believe the king took you into his household when you were a boy and raised you as one of his own.”

“Storm Eagle has been a second father to me,” Owl said, blushing a little. “Wren and Cat are brother and sister to me, and Cloud is like my own cousin.”

As we cleared the gate, we came into a flat area with another wall in front of us. In front of us was another gate we would pass, but it appeared unguarded. Many goblins were freely walking or riding through it in both directions. The distance between the gates was about 500 yards, which would be about right if you wanted to trap someone in the crossfire of ballistae on both walls. The area between the walls was devoted to crops and pastures full of livestock.

“This interests you?” Magrat asked me, noting that I was looking around me at the crops and the herd of sheep in the distance. I nodded yes.

“There are four villages that farm the area between the two great walls,” Magrat explained. “The inner wall forms a circle that is eight leagues in diameter. The two walls are the only fortifications around the city. We should pause for a moment when we get through the next gate so you can see the wonder that is Kizdangengar.”

“Lady Magrat is not exaggerating,” Wren interjected. “It really is an amazing sight. It takes my breath away every time I see it. You’ll understand as soon as you see it.” Magrat smiled at Wren’s enthusiasm. I could tell Magrat was proud of what she was about to show us.

“Now you’ve got me curious,” Cloud Eye looked to see if he could see anything on the other side of the next gate.

When we cleared the second gate, the four on the ponies stopped of their own accord. The three boys sat in their saddles with their mouths gaping. I have to admit it was a fantastic sight. The inner wall marked the lip of a giant crater. Eight roads from eight gates dropped down into the crater on elevated bridges of massive timbers. The bridges led to a circular city built on a massive foundation that rose in walled rings. The top ring was at our eye level. It was a building capped with a large rose-pink dome.

I found it interesting that the space between the inner wall and the city foundation was empty. The causeway-like bridges suggested that the ground of the crater might be a wetland. There were spots where I thought I could see water.

“Our legends tell us that a great ball of fire fell from the sky, and it made this huge hole where it struck the ground,” Magrat expounded, enjoying the role of tour guide. “It took us two centuries to build the city’s outer walls and the great foundation. We had to make it much higher than the crater floor because it floods every spring and stays boggy until late autumn.

“Kizdangengar has never been attacked, but if it was, the bridges are wood, so we can knock down sections and burn them quickly. There are also magical defenses that will fill the crater with water to make a moat.”

“How old is Kizdangengar?” Cloud Eye asked.

“Just under two millennia,” Magrat nodded proudly. I couldn’t fault her pride in her home city because it was truly impressive.