Fishcather’s head was slowly being rolled in front of his eyes. He ignored it and moved his head the other side. Slowly he kept thinking, but the head was restless. It changed its course in an unnatural way and continued its grim journey. The moment it reached his vision Gob turned around.

The head quickly adjusted its path. Gob wanted to turn once more, but he touched cold steel bars with his neck. He shivered. The cage wasn’t that big. He moved to the middle and continued laying on the straw mat.

It didn’t take long for the head to adjust. It rolled right next to him. Gob pushed it away with his right arm. It felt warm when he touched it, but not quite physical. Like it wasn’t there.

The warmth could be felt even through his bandaged arm. Gob looked at the head which lost its shape for a moment and then continued to roll next to him. He looked up. The top of the cage was covered in cloth.

He closed his eyes. The moment he did, he saw all the goblins he knew get slashed in half. Then the Fishcatcher. She was slashed just like the others, but she had this pained expression on her face. She was holding her cut off hand.

Her skirt. The one he made for her was soaked in blood. She looked at him, terror in her gaze. Then came the sword. Gob opened his eyes, but the vision hasn’t changed. Right between his eyes, hovering over his head, a carbon copy of his imagination was being projected.

The smallest figure of Fishcatcher, so small that he could probably hide it in his pockets, was looking at him with a solemn silence. The figure itself was perfect. It was like Fishcatcher brought back to life. Except it was so damn small. And a fairy.

“Leave me alone.”

“No”

Gob tried to push the fairy away, but she dodged and followed his gaze. He struggled to sit up. His left hand didn’t heal properly. It was hurting with every move. As the fairy continued to bother him, he looked around the camp.

The bandits were minding their own business. There were five men in total. The camp was run by the man named Curan. As far as Gob gathered that he was an equivalent of a goblin chief. He organised the camp and had his own spacious tent set up in the middle.

The camp itself wasn’t huge. A few tents, cages and boxes set up around a giant campfire. The camp was protected by trees from every side. Narrow passages of giant rocks made a natural entrance and also protected the bandits from the cold wind.

One bandit knew basic medicine. It was a quiet, small man named Peter. Gob never heard him speak. The only thing he could say about him was that he seemed obedient. He was always standing near a chubby human that seemed to be the cook. The medic would always help him around the camp.

The cook was grumpy. Gob at first thought he hated to give his food to a goblin, but it wasn’t the case. He just loved to argue with everyone. Especially when they were assigned to help him by Curan. He would look at their half-assed attempts of cooking and shout them down to oblivion.

He also tried to argue with Gob.

“Any good you green princess? Are potatoes to your liking? Not to salty?”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Not talking today? Well potatoes are all you got your highness green.”

Gob wasn’t sure what he said during the days he was unconscious. He hardly remembered. The bandits were trying to make him speak since.

“Go back!”

“No!”

He replied to the fairy that seemed permanently attached to him.

“She will rot in my place!”

“I’m not going anywhere!”

He was talking quietly. Noone seemed to hear fairy’s loud squeaking except for him. Noone seemed to see her either. Unless it was normal in human societies to ignore small balls of light and warmth that rapidly changed into recently deceased.

“You need to go!”

Gob was at his limit. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t think. The fairy added to his torment so much that he barely mourned the Fishcatcher. He just wanted everything to fade away.

“The aura of death will destroy my home and...”

“Shut up!”

Despite Gob’s best efforts his whisper was heard.

“Oh you awake? Would you look at that. Tell me something. Go on.”

The man Gob hated the moment he saw him. Fritz was someone to despise. He was a replacement for a shaman, as the fifth member of the group, an actual second hand of the tribe, was rarely seen. He was probably doing some task that Curan deemed important.

Fritz was the only one that bothered Gob all the time he could. They wanted to sell him, that much was clear. Curan set them rules and mostly slept in his tent. Peter was tasked with Gob’s health and politely change his bandages never speaking a word.

Piper the cook was always shouting, but he never gave Gob a portion of food too small for him to feel any hunger, nor had he bothered Gob outside of meals, but Fritz. Fritz was an asshole. An asshole that found the caged goblin to be his new personal toy.

“What no talking? Oh come on! I heard you mutter something. Speak up greenshit! I want to hear those words of wisdom you so desperately keep in your tiny brain!”

Gob didn’t budge for a week, but it wasn’t like Fritz was the only one to bother him all the time. The fairy, currently transformed into a rolling head of Fishcather was still complaining to him.

“Go to my home!”

“Say Somethin!”

“You need to go!”

“What were the words of wisdom?”

As Fritz kicked the metal bars Gob couldn’t bear the surrounding chaos.

“I said Shut Up!”

The camp suddenly fell quiet. Peter stopped chopping down the wood, Piper looked at Goob from the place that served as his makeshift kitchen. Fritz was a little shocked.

“So you DO understand.”

“Everything you moron.”

Gob was hoping for Fritz to stay shocked, but he smiled instead and pulled out the dagger. Gob’s eyes which a moment ago were decently calm now were brimming with anger.

“It is yours isn’t it?”

The dagger was quite unique. It was used to break swords after all.

“Leave it. You’ll cut yourself.”

Gob slowly said to beaming Fritz.

“Oh will you maybe learn me the way of the dagger? I have a fine challenge for you then.”

Gob looked as Fritz came closer to the nearby tree. He seemed relaxed, but after a short pause he shouted and plunged the dagger deep into the wood. Only the hilt was visible. He then turned around and slowly approached the cage with keys in his hands.

With a creak the cage was open. Piper was visibly shaken. Peter put the axe down and took out a small crossbow from the nearby box. Even the fairy shut up. Fritz laughed. Gob tightened his fists.

“Come on sunshine! If you can pull it out its back yours.”