A week has passed since I returned to the camp. The snow has covered the ground and killed off all vegetation, thus, I have ordered my men to abstain from hunting and focus solely on the reinforcement of the camp and the lifting of the palisades.

By now the camp is three times the size it was back when I first came to this place when it was ruled by orcs. The goblins have been doing well under Lina's watch, training constantly and learning how to obey they now take care of most guard jobs, as well as a sizable amount of the woodworking, freeing up the Huani and Hobgoblins to focus on other matters.

I have been hard at work translating the most important pieces of information from the books Scarlett gave me into Orcish, a difficult job since I lack knowledge of the written language, luckily, Jorr was well versed and proficient with it, so his aid has been of invaluable help. I handed the translated works to the most skilled Hobgoblins and set them to work.

The knowledge of the Hobgoblins in general did wonders for the camp, as they began burning wood in covered holes in the ground furthest from the camp, to make charcoal. We need it to feed the newly made forge, melt down the steel ingots and salvaged armor, and make our own. Also, the palisade has begun to be erected, but it will be at least a month or two until we can surround the entire camp.

I see also much greater improvement among them, as training goes more smoothly, they move together, and remain precise and swift in their strikes even after long hours of work.

A proper couple of bathrooms have been made, with wooden basins that the goblins empty daily in the stream fifteen minutes from the camp, together with the private tents for everyone, morale is at an all-time high. The many furs and pelts we have collected have been repurposed for strips to tie spearheads with, or much-needed clothes for all my men.

Our goods have been organized and placed in a couple of tents sewn together to increase their size. So that the horses may have a place where to rest and avoid freezing from the cold winds of winter. We killed two of ten however, feeding them all could have put our vegetables at risk of running out before spring begins. The wagons left aside for the day we go raid again.

I gathered the carpenters and farmers among the Hobgoblins and began planning out the creation of wooden huts and farming plots to be able to work as soon as spring arrives. As well as begin the construction of three watchtowers twelve meters tall.

And when the Huani were not busy training in the woods with the elf, I instructed them on how to ride horses with Nojus' help. Having a cavalry force capable of shooting arrows while on the move would be incredibly advantageous for any future conflict. I had to use my trance to get a better grasp of how to use horses.

But while things have been going smoothly, not everything is perfect.

I noticed early on that the Hobgoblins dislike their kind given to me by the witch, and they do look and behave differently. One of the hobgoblins shared with me that all Hobgoblins were once like that. Silent and obedient, but after mixing and making offspring the true born were brought into this world.

For them, to see the Hobgoblins created with Starblood was like seeing a reminder of a shameful past, of their lives as slaves of the emperor. Morgana had to order them to stop following her and regard me as their new master, only six of them, however, as she decided to keep a pair as her servants.

In total, we were now seventy-one people in this war band.

The goblins would occasionally make trouble by getting too close to Indri and getting handsy, or the hobgoblins would insult and provoke the elf, apparently bad blood ran for too long between their races, since the times of the emperor. And the Huani would also openly show their dislike of the elf, since her kind had a hand in their creation and enslavement by the humans.

What little free time I have, is occupied by my daily talks with Enon on the ways of alchemy. I hoped it wouldn't be too different from the creation of medicine and poisons, but I was mistaken. Alchemy uses a mixture of magic and a wide array of other skills to craft substances that can enhance, dampen or alter the properties of both items, such as weapons or clothes, to living beings.

And while we are far from gathering all the necessary utensils to begin working on alchemy, I'm making him teach me the basics, as well as spend his time writing down the many techniques and processes he knows. I have put one of my carpenters to work on a chair with wheels for him.

I spend a few nights trying to find their Startears, but except for a small vial that both of them carry around hanging from their necks I haven't been successful.

But now, as I stand outside my tent in the early morning, the orange sky barely breaks apart the dark clouds of winter, and the camp begins to awake as well. I look at all the progress I've made, and can't help but feel my heart quicken its pace. I'm doing it, little by little my kingdom is nigh.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Then, I watch something where the majority of hobgoblin's tents lays, a large tree trunk being worked with care by one of them, and I don't remember telling them to do such a thing.

"What is this?" I ask the man once I'm close enough.

"A totem, boss "He replies, one of the oldest hobgoblins in the camp "For Hunes, the men want a place to pray and ask the spirits to watch over their families now enslaved by the goblin"

I see now, the totem has rudimentary carvings of what looks like tales around its base, too early to make sense of. But I see in the faces of each passing man that they are happy to see it.

"Is it a problem? " He asks, stopping for a moment as he looks at me.

"None, be sure it doesn't interfere with your daily tasks" I reply, turning around and walking back to my tent. Hearing his aye as I walk away.

And soon, in the following days, surrounding the totem many hobgoblins begin to leave small offerings on wooden plates, such as meat or what little ale we have left, a tremendous sacrifice for these alcohol-loving men. I notice some of them sit next to the totem with a hand on it and a lowered head, whispering their request to the spirits they worship.

I was expecting a physical manifestation of said spirits, in a world with witches and devils, but no matter how much they pray there is never a ghostly apparition. They are met with silence, but the visitors and requests do not falter. And soon Jorr has to order them to stop giving away their food, but not with authority, rather, with sympathy, as he understands they are desperate to have some sense that their loved ones are being looked after.

This has another unintended effect, more beneficial to me. With a daily reminder of what they want, the hobgoblins train harsher than ever and seem more focused on improving their tactics, practicing shield walls and bashes in a group, as eager as I am to find Fogosh.

The same hobgoblin that works on the totem is also approached by Nojus one day, who asks him to do the same for the deity they worship, Prince Uperbis. And I had to free him from all his duties so that he could focus on carving the totem for the hobgoblins, and the dragon totem for the Huani.

"Do you have gods?" I ask Enon one afternoon, he lifts his eyes from the parchment he writes on and looks at me.

"The Djhalnari don't worship any gods. The closest thing we have would be the Great Empress, but she was a mortal" He notices I mean to hear him more with the way I look at him, and with cautious excitement, he lets the parchment on the table and turns to face me, we sit next to each other at the table inside my tent "the daughter of Numodis The Great, humans know him as the evil emperor, but in truth, he was the real owner of Volatia, we called this land by another name long ago but I don't remember anymore"

"You were alive back then?"

"Oh no! Ha ha, I'm not that old. We Djahalnari live a fraction of what the Ahajlii, closer to the human's lifespan, around one hundred fifty years. Our great-grandparent was a scholar, and he passed down his knowledge by mouth to my grandmother, who did the same to my father, and he to me. Naturally, things get lost with such an unreliable way to preserve information"He sounds legitimately saddened as he says this.

"Why worship a mortal then?"

"As I said, we don't worship his daughter, he hated the gods whom, as he said to us his subjects, Unjustly play with this world, and their inhabitants, like children with a screaming, crying toy. And some of my kind say that is why the gods send the comet, to punish him for slaying one of them"

"He killed a god? And you knew about the comet?" Now I am more curious than ever.

"Or so the story says, Numodis was well aware of the human's hands with the comet, he never foresaw that their stupidity would lead to the Terrible Spilling, which he prevented from harming Volatia by holding the weight of the universe with his magic for several seconds"

"But what god did he slay?"

"I don't know, I think it was a god of the Kobolds, who lived at the bottom of the Nest of Dragons, long before it was called that way. Stories tell that's how he obtained his other seven children, the dragons"

"And do you believe it? The stories?" My question makes him rest his head on his hand, as he leans on the table and looks down for a bit before his purple eyes lock with mine.

"I do. I prefer to believe these stories than the ones the Ahajlii fed us as their slaves. That Numodis was a bloodthirsty tyrant who butchered and killed hundreds of thousands in the conquest of all Shana, Volatia named by them, which was why we, the last of our kind, were paying for the countless massacre of their people at his hands"

For some time the discussion remained on his people and their beliefs. How they once worshiped the moon and used strange magics that she bestowed upon them in the times long past into obscurity. Before the written word could record what happened. When at the top of the nest of dragons lived a giant sentient tree that the Ahajhalnar worship to this day. When the trolls carved a mighty empire and brought the first written stories to the land.

"Do you worship any gods? Or spirits? To be completely honest I never imagined I would one day hold such a learned discussion with, well, a goblin" He says with a genuine chuckle "How come you are so...different?"

"I do not worship any gods, you could say I share Numodis' view of them in that regard. And I was born this way"

"Then perhaps you are the unknowing champion for one of them" I raise my eyebrow, and he continues "Gods are said to choose people in times of great change, these individuals are bestowed incredible might or talent, and left free on the world to represent their gods and take part of the great change that is bound to happen"

Could a god have chosen me? Tore me away from my world to do their will and represent their interests in this world? I can feel my blood boil at the thought.

"If a God has really done this, then I hope to one day become as strong as Numodis, and slay them too"

The conversation turns colder than the winds outside the tent, and soon after we return to our duties, silently writing down on the parchments as the day goes away and a lively night comes at us.