Red Cap Garrison.

The Colonel stared up at the dark mountain looming above the town. Since the attack on the railyard and the dwarves, things have become quiet again in the town, aside from the new normal that was military vehicles and supply trucks coming and going.

Which didn't sit right with him. Back when he was a goblin and now that he was a Red Cap, peace didn't last long. It wasn't a matter of 'if' but 'when' the next attack came. Something he's discussed with the Major General, which he was surprised to be in agreement. When its come to the General of late, he's been handicapped by the scheming of Gerard as well as Morty's own lack of military experience.

Which is why he was excited to learn that the Red Caps would be receiving training from the National Guard in modern tactics and warfare! While the Major General offered the training to the entirety of the Vert Armee, the Colonel refused on the grounds that it would be a waste of time and energy in training the goblins in anything more advanced than variations of "human-wave" tactics.

Could goblins handle firearms and the more modern tactics of this world? Of course. But why would you? Without the firm hand of a Red Cap they were liable to turn their weapons and training on one another or even others! That was something he would not accept. The goblins served their purpose as expendable cannon-fodder. Nothing more. Nothing less. It would be a waste to everyone in order to try and make a goblin think they can be better than they are.

Which made Gerard and the other "Noble" goblins an irritant that he hated knowing still existed. They were no better than your run of the mill goblin. They talked, dressed, and acted like civilized creatures, but they were still goblins and their increasing penchant for scheming did nothing but reinforce the Colonel's disposition towards them.

Were it up to him, he and the other Red Caps would put them in their place. Making sure that whatever delusions the goblins seemed to have would never come to pass and they would remain the slightly better beasts that they were.

Speaking of beasts, the Colonel thought as he turned his sight to a pair of guard trogs that followed after him. They were better outfitted now than they used to be. Studded oiled leather and thick scraps of iron protected the semi-trollish flesh from any fire or burns they might incur from their duties. What few they were even remotely capable of doing. Bandoliers of simple, and rather haphazardly put together, grenades dangled around their fat warty bodies. He winced every time they would clink together as he expected any number of the crude devices to go off.

On their gnarly hands were leather fingerless gloves with edged iron studs on the knuckles sewn into the tough flesh of the trogs to keep them from simply taking them off. Their already sharpened yellow nails acted as adequate weapons in and of themselves but the studs made their already near lethal backhand into something that could maim if not outright kill.

The 'keystone' of the armor was a iron mesh basket that covered the upper part of the head above the nose. These mesh blinders were meant to keep the trogs from running off after whatever slight distraction caught their dimwitted attentions at any given moment. Were they blind? Not entirely. But it was enough that their Red Cap handlers were now actually making some headway in their training of the beasts.

So far though, its amounted to little more than "stand there and don't let anyone pass". Which, while simple, proved frustrating for the Red Caps as the trog guards took the 'anyone' literally and kept even them from entering some places! The only upside to such behavior is the side-effect that they take their guard duties quite seriously as a result and will refuse to move for hours from the spot they've deemed their "turf". Something he wasn't sure was a leftover from their 'goblinization' or a recent quirk. But regardless, they seem to take these small, sometimes no bigger than the area in which encompassed the length of their arms, turfs with seeming tribal aggression that has resulted in injuries to dragues doing their menial tasks.

So while they've been able to turn them into adequate guards, the fact that they won't let even the Red Caps pass certain areas anymore, forcing them to find alternate routes which degree from stupidly simple to tediously long in order to follow their assigned tasks, has made a double-edged sword out of it.

Already they've adjusted their training so that only very select individuals could pass certain areas. At least it was some measure of progress and was on the way to turning the trogs into a proper boon to their forces rather than a increasing frustration.

Which was more than he could say about the humans within their ranks. The retainers and personal guards of the nobles back at the estate have either deserted or actively hinder them when they can. The Colonel has had to twice already enforce order as they've enflamed tensions between the Red Caps and the newcomers.

His solution? Hang them and be done with it. Or at least that would've been his solution. It was that solution that resulted in some measure of cooperation between the two groups up till now. But now that they've stopped with the executions and taking a step back and letting the National Guard handle most problems, they've grown bold and have begun making more and more trouble for them.

Which was a growing annoyance to him. As he begins to put one fire out another two sprout up. Not that it was all bad. Other than the aforementioned training with the National Guard, the locals, as well as some of the newcomers, have been growing accustomed to them enough to exchange basic greetings. Though that was about it. Neither group wanted much to do with them still.

Then there was the fact that Sylvia was being released from the hospital! Molly had told him the news the day after their time together. With the worst behind her and her healing making great progress, Molly managed to convince the hospital to release the elven woman into her custody while the bed and room could be used to assist those in more dire need than she was currently in.

As far as he was aware of it wouldn't be a permanent thing, though he overheard Molly mentioning teaching her to manage the store so that she and him could leave town and see people about off-loading the influx of precious metal coins she's gotten from the newcomers and the odd dwarf that has come in to grumble and eyeball everything before haggling a miserly price for a single golf club.

Speaking of dwarves, the Colonel thought as he glared daggers at a set of plated dwarven guards standing outside of an increasing number of plots and businesses just down the road. Seems like every day a new place gets bought up by the dwarves, leaving their grim guards in front and refusing service to any Red Caps, even those that had started to build a rapport with the locals now found themselves barred from the recently gained dwarven businesses.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

He didn't like it. He could already tell that if something wasn't done soon they'll be surrounded by a hostile force. While not exactly a new thing for them, he really didn't want to add to the list of increasing threats. Especially one that was adapting their forces with similar weapons to what the National Guard carried. At least in terms of rifles and shotguns. Other than that they stuck with thick dwarven plate, axes, and a few hold-out blunderbusses.

He sighed and rested his wrist on the pommel of his sabre. At least they were also growing in strength as well. New armor for the trogs. Report of a new addition to their forces found out in the Outremer. As well as the dragues nearing the location said to contain lead deposits. With lead, iron, and some of the strangely rich fertilizer gathered near the hedge maze, they'll soon be on their way to being a properly equipped force.

He clicked his heels and began to make his way down the street along his usual patrol schedule with his pair of trogs trudging along behind him. Normally he'd have a small force follow after him as a show of force. But with tensions at an all time high, he's left them to train and joining the trogs in guard duty in the meantime. Not like he needed it in the part of town that was firmly under their control. Evidenced by some minor changes to the area of town that they occupied.

While it still looked the same as the rest of the town, there was a subtle difference to be seen with keen eyes. The buildings were chiseled and molded into a more spartan fashion with accents and filigree being removed as a waste of resources. Light also flooded the place at night. If it wasn't a streetlight it was bonfires or something else that pushed back the dark and kept the ferals in town from gaining a foothold in their zone of control.

Something that they've barely had trouble with of late other than the odd feral or two lurking in the darkest corner of an alley and the increasingly rare pack that ventures out from their main lair somewhere in the waste system of the town below the main road in search of food or salvage scraps even regular goblins wouldn't bother with.

There was also the increasing lot of barricades thrown together with scrap wood and recent arrivals of stone that sealed off certain areas from the public more for safety than any sort of secrecy or privacy. The Red Caps had nothing to hide after all. They trained in broad daylight. They executed criminals and ferals for all to see, at least when they still did public executions. No. The barricades were for safety and protection. Especially as things got hotter between the various groups within town, old and new.

Morty wanted the barricades as a deterrent, what good it'd do, against mainly the National Guard. But the Colonel wanted them more as cover for his forces in the event of an attack from the locals, hillfolk or otherwise, or newcomers looking for trouble.

In either case, the eastern part of town under their control was looking more and more like a military camp than a part of a small town as parts of the woods behind them and across the road towards the mountain was cleared and fortified with stone and iron to hold back whatever lurked up on that darkened place above them.

It wasn't enough. He knew that. He was there when those creatures attacked them during the conflict in the tunnels. What they needed was two-fold. Advanced training, and more, preferably, modern equipment. Making new cannons for instance would be a welcome addition to fortifying the eastern section against any attacks coming from the mountain. But the process as been both slow going and shoddy in terms of quality. What couple of cannons they've managed to get hauled over here fell apart halfway up the road!

Even being put back together revealed that they'd barely last a single blast, if even that. He turned his gaze towards one of the trucks the National Guard brought with them. The ones that were covered in armor and had a mounted gun on the top. What he wouldn't give for a handful of those to turn towards their enemies.

But he'd have to make do with what he already had. Which was an increasingly militarized zone on the eastern part of town with a number of muskets and shoddy cannons pointing both north, towards the dwarven railyard, and east towards the mountains. Good thing about the National Guard taking the reins in terms of the rest of the town was that he could concentrate his forces in what they already held and were no longer spread thin as a result.

He nodded a greeting to one of the goblinized humans that acted as scouts for the Vert Armee. Though their duties were mainly south back at the estate and patrolling the Outremer, they lived mainly in town. Though their recent transformations has resulted in several moving their families into their zone of control as a result of increasing hostility from the newcomers near their former homes.

While small in number, he has heard a rumor from some of them discussing some of their comrades in the unions taking the increased size, and strength, as enough to consider going through the goblinization process. It seemed like the only way to increase their numbers for the time being as he's also heard that despite being bigger, stronger, and faster, the con of it seems to be that, despite being back in proper society for some time now, no progress has been made in proper conception between the goblinized humans and their still human spouses.

While on the thought of conception, the Colonel thought of the foreseeable need of more trogs in the future with the likelihood of casualties among them should serious conflict arrive. As far as he's seen the trogs have all been male. Not exactly hard to notice when they didn't really wear much to cover themselves up before they got some scraps of cloth to cover them up. Perhaps he could inquire the General about going on an expedition to acquire more trolls in order to secure a source of trogs?

Such thoughts then led him towards his own intimacy with Molly not long ago. He loved her and she him. But could they conceive a child? Would they? Not exactly something either one of them has brought up yet but is something that will need to be addressed, and possibly prepared for, shortly.

He walked to the edge of their zone of control and peered between the two sections. One was clean and clear of anyone not going about their day and duties. The other was covered in bodies huddled close and freezing or coughing from sickness while grime and litter began to pile from the sheer multitude of bodies.

As if that wasn't bad enough, many of them have started building shanty huts from whatever they could scrounge together in order to escape the cold and elements as the days got darker and the cold got stronger. Yet that wasn't the worst of it. He could see several bodies not moving as they laid in gutters soaked in filth. Most were grown, but some were not. There were even those that looked like they hadn't yet seen a full summer yet.

He wasn't sure what to do about that though. Despite clearing and controlling some of the nearby apartments, a pittance took their offer of shelter and food. It seemed that many would rather choose to freeze and die than live among goblins or Red Caps.

Just to add insult to injury, despite the outward appearance of having ceased, the criminal element in town has merely became more discreet in spreading corruption and rot. Already he could see those lurking in the shadows casting wary eyes at everyone nearby as they fingered something sharp or heavy under their clothes.

He spat at the sight. One fire goes out, and two more take its place, he thought as he gripped his hand tighter around his sabre when he saw a group of toughs an alley down eyeballing them. The ner-do-wells spat back and retreated into the shadows.

This was the only thing he disagreed about with the Major General. Such... creatures, didn't deserve to remain where their sickness would continue to infect and decay. Were they overwhelmed and undermanned? Yes. But as time went on the more brazen of the lot were culled and left those that at least kept their noses clean near them. But now it seemed like some were growing bolder despite the weapons and armor the National Guard brought with them. Desperation and greed tend to cloud judgement though and it wouldn't surprise him if they were planning on taking the weapons from the National Guard to use to grow their fledgling power.

He turned and looked at the wooden barricade separating their part of town from the rest as a thought started to crawl up. A thought he didn't want to have and hated having it. But couldn't help but consider it regardless. While public executions were now gone and most criminals are being handed over to the Major General. Perhaps they could switch to something less... public.

After all. If the National Guard didn't know that these creatures were there in the first place, then they wouldn't miss some. This way, they can still combat crime as they've done before while keeping their public image clean.

But he hated such a thought and shook his head. That was goblin-think. He wasn't a goblin and wouldn't dare even consider such a thought! There was a reason he and the Red Caps did things a certain way. They were officers. Soldiers of merit and honor. They fought their enemy in the open, not in some shadowed back alley!

Yet he turned his gaze back down the alley where he saw the vermin. Could they really afford not to take care of such an infestation? To let it continue to grow and fester until it was too late? He didn't want to consider such a future where such a rot might even spread to the Red Caps.

But did the end justify the means? He wasn't sure. Something to think about as he made his way back to the barracks, troubles seemingly never-ending all around him with the spartan and militarized zone being the only safe and steady place among it all.