Duval Estate.
Gerard continued to scribble away at the various documents that were strewn about in an orderly fashion upon the desk. He had much to do after all. Organizing the fair for Mortimer, securing a proper economy for the Estate, making the nobles even vaguely useful, just to name a few.
He finished writing out his instructions for the fair and placed them within a vanilla envelope before sealing it with a wax seal with the Duval crest. Then he handed it off to one of his runners before turning back to his stationary duties. Most of those that he had "recruited" had returned after the initial mission he sent them out on. Far fewer than he figured decided to chance it by running. Of course those that did were eventually found again and were now slaving away doing drague work out in Mortimer's Outremer.
Fine by him, he thought as he finished his next document and handed it off to one of the staff. If they didn't see the opportunity he had given them then they can spend their time dodging axe swings and fighting over vermin. He figured there'd be a few that would run. He was pleasantly surprised when most of them had returned.
Now obviously they had to do the tasks of those that had fled. But given the fact it was simple message running they didn't complain too much. Though he would need to inform Mortimer that Jebadiah no longer lived at the address he had listed. Especially since they now had wealth and luxury that Gerard was sure most, if not all, of the newcomers had never even seen in their lives.
For the most part he didn't expect any positive responses. The Duval name wasn't one in good standing. It would require work, alot of work, to make it something respectable again. The sad truth of it was that Mortimer wasn't entirely helping matters. As evidenced by the fact that the dwarves had rejected his offer of trading iron. They apparently found Mortimer's behavior the last time they were here rather rude.
Sure he had gone out in feeding and providing a bit of warmth for the newcomers, earning him some goodwill in the process, but the brutish, Gerard would go as far to say thuggish, behavior of the Red Caps had washed it away after the first few executions they preformed. Was it on those that deserved it? Perhaps, but that wasn't the point, Gerard thought.
It's all about perception. It didn't matter if it was murderers and rapists being executed. It also didn't matter that those permanently disfigured were criminals stealing from the local townsfolk or even their former countrymen. All that mattered to the average person was that there were people being beaten and hung.
It was why Gerard was using human runners to deliver his messages instead of doing it himself. Well, that and the fact that he had more important matters to attend to that wasn't running to and fro. Half the important and influential people would be far less inclined to work with him if they knew he was a goblin. A civilized and refined goblin. But a goblin non the less.
But things will change, he thought as he sent off the last of his letters. As time has crept on the perception of them WILL change. Even now, the other Noble Goblins were seeing semi-regular interactions with those in town. It wasn't above polite practicality, but it was more than they had some weeks ago.
Gerard turned when the doors to the study opened and a line of his kin walked in. With some affairs of the fair taken care of, now he would turn to a different matter. Making the nobles that continued to be little more than burdensome wastrels into something resembling proper aristocracy. Of course that would also take time, he thought as he looked over the dignified goblins that stood poised and composed before him as he inspected every thread and button of their clothing.
The clothes that the servants wore would not do for this task. Those standing before him were now clothed in proper finery befitting nobles and aristocracy. Fine suits patched up and cinched to fit their smaller stature along with dresses resewn and fitted.
Not a button was unpolished and not a thread was out of place, he noted with a measure of pride. With a nod he sent the males off. But he kept the females behind. The males would have to resort to charm to complete their tasks but the females won't have to work near as hard.
So with a tired sigh and no small measure of distaste, he undid the bosom of the dresses so that their cleavage was now showing and hiked the length of the dress to show a bit more leg. The females could only hide their embarrassment behind the blush and other beauty product on their faces. But such were the way of things, Gerard thought as he made a few modifications to the dresses and makeup to make them more... appealing to the male gaze.
Once he was... content with the modifications he sent the females away. He doubt they'll have little issues in seducing the males of the nobles. Especially those that looked to be going through adolescence and would already be at the whims of their hormones.
But even if the males returned without accomplishing their tasks, the females will no doubt succeed in their duty. With them alone he can safely secure a decent enough portion of the noble blood to elicit a proper coup of the bloodlines. From there he can use their names to legitimize the Noble Goblins and further secure respect within the eyes of the newcomers.
Speaking of similar matters, he thought as he saw Mortimer walk by with the ogres ever in tow. It had been some time since Morty last partook of the maid. Even with her pining for his attention he's been surprisingly negligent of her. He wasn't sure if it was just the presence of the ogres that were keeping him from partaking again, or if he perhaps had more of a monogamous habit than even he might be aware of.
No matter, Gerard thought as the maid walked away from Mortimer after being given a simple task to fulfill. The ogres might have his attention, and loyalty, for now but if he's partaken once he'll do it again. He need only wait for Mortimer to grow tired and bored and to long for the supple flesh of the goblin maid. If not, then all Gerard had to do was wait for the ogres' rather violent episode to kick in should they be with children.
One of the staff overheard it while the ogres were talking during the few moments that they weren't all but attached to Mortimer. Apparently over a period of two weeks they'll become aggressive and violent towards anyone nearby. He would guess it was probably a defense response to keep them and their unborn children safe from predators, rivals, or other threats while it gestated.
So it didn't matter if the ogres were with child or not. Either they would lapse into a violent episode and push Morty away, and into the arms of a goblin maid, or two. Or they couldn't bare his children and he would do it as a natural response to further his bloodline.
Either way it was only a matter of time, Gerard thought as he returned to his tasks. There was much to be done if he was to keep the estate afloat. Mortimer was doing what he could by expanding to acquire a decent source of stone but resource extraction would only do so much. If they wanted true wealth and prestige like the estate had long ago, they would need to diversify their holdings.
So Gerard left the minute details of the daily goings on to his subordinates and made on his way to check in on the rest of his more enlightened kin. The first stop? The clergy. Goblins have never been particularly religious. Spiritual maybe, if even that much. However, since their proximity to Mortimer and his culture many have taken a liking to his native religion. As goblins are want to do, they naturally bastardized it to the point that he would be surprised if followers of the actual religion considered it anything but heretical.
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He left the mansion out the back and headed to the right most portion of the estate. Past the soldiery housing and to where the "church" had been erected. He saw a simple section of earth that was fenced off that contained two headstones. One was old but looked still well tended to. The other was fresher. The graves of the two people that Mortimer had loved.
Gerard dipped his head in respect as he passed it and made for the crude church just a few feet to the left of the private gravesite. It was little more than a pile of lumber thrown together. An enlightened mind does not necessarily mean an experienced one, he thought. Many of the Noble Goblins were enthusiastic about tinkering and doing more with their advanced knowledge. Putting it into a respectable practice was something few were actually capable of.
He entered the log church and was met with a mixed congregation holding mass. Or as close to it as they've gotten to at any rate, Gerard thought as he noted the Red Caps mixed among the log pews of goblins that bowed their head in supplication at the rather crude, and more than likely insulting, rendition of The Crucifixion at the back of the church.
To be fair it wasn't terrible. But the craftsmanship was rather rough. Christ was shorter than depicted with a nose that was longer and pointed. As was his ears. In other words? They depicted Christ as a goblin. Though he didn't really expect anything more from them. Even the rites performed were half-guessed. The head priest noticed his arrival and broke away, having one of the other greenskin priests take over in his stead.
"Brother Gerard! Have you come to offer yourself to The Lord at last?!" He asked fervently and Gerard noticed that the Bible he held was missing several chunks of pages. Several goblin laymen hobbled over, one holding a rod that would douse him in "holy water", and the other dragging a lamppost that reeked of ash and perfume.
"Unfortunately not today. I am merely coming by to see how you are faring?"
"Oh we are doing well in the service of The Lord! Every hour of every day we offer unto him our supplication and devotion!" He spoke with fervor.
"I see. If there are no complaints than I shall take my leave."
"Wait?! Though we are doing well, I hear that the Master has set his sights on a bounty of stone? If true, perhaps he could gift us some for a more proper place of worship?" The clergyman asked with nods from those nearby.
Gerard sighed.
"Master Mortimer has many plans for that stone. But, I will see to it that you receive some for a proper church."
"Bless you Brother Gerard! Once built, you should return for a proper baptism!" The priest declared as Gerard left the congregation with a non-committal hmm.
He didn't want to. But if would help keep their support he supposed he could swallow his pride. Though stone for a church would be enough for it, getting officially welcomed into the faith would help further cement it. With the spiritual goblins seen to, now he could check in on the more technically minded.
He passed through the housing towards where the workshop was built. Even from afar he could hear the sounds of work and tinkering from within. He passed the ruined husks of their previous experiments. The smell of burning metal and rubber lingered in the air and only got stronger the closer he got to the workshop. It was a good thing they had a source of iron to reinforce the walls or else they'd have to continuously rebuild it.
He entered through the double doors to a cacophony of activity and noise. The goblin guards and Red Caps stood around looking mostly bored and tired. The Noble Goblins and the dragues were the entirety of it all. The Noble Goblins bickered and argued with one another as they shouted and demanded more resources for their personal experiments while the dragues rushed every which way over the mixed floor of hard packed earth, metal plating, and solid wood to fulfill whatever order was commanded of them.
Some carried around buckets of grease and oil, others had whole handfuls of nails, others carried lumber back and forth. Another was carrying a single tire while another carried a rearview mirror. It was utter chaos, Gerard thought. He made his way up the rickety stairs to the platform where the lead Noble Goblin stood and sifted erratically through plans and drafts and blueprints. Most looked little more than scribbles or stains on paper.
If he didn't turn his gaze to an area of the workshop where he could see those reproducing flamethrower solution and distilling the grease for the grease bombs, he would think nothing was getting done. But that was only a small part of the workshop. The rest was used as little more than testing. Already he could see the last of the vehicles that looked like something a child threw together as they were being used to test... something.
He wasn't sure he even wanted to know. But he had to. That was part of his duties.
"Progress report."
The lead Noble Goblin didn't even look up at Gerard, and he was almost tempted to speak again as he wasn't sure if he even heard him over the noise. But after a second longer going over plans and details he finally turned away and towards Gerard.
The only difference between him and Gerard in look was the clothes they wore and the way they presented themselves. Whereas Gerard was dressed in a modified version of a butler's suit and stood with proper stature, the lead wore worn work clothes and a leather apron and gloves that were stained with grease, oil, and what Gerard thought might be blood. He also slouched and squinted at him through a pair of cracked glasses.
"It's going. What do you want now Gerard?" The lead goblin asked irritably.
"To check in and report anything to Master Mortimer."
"Then report that things are going and leave us to our work in peace." He quipped.
Gerard cocked a brow and peered out the corner of his eye as a handful of drague ran into one another, spilling their hauls and creating even more of a racket and a mess to join the floor that was covered in further grease and soot.
"You know what I mean! If there's anything to report I'll let YOU know! If you have a request than say it and begone!"
Gerard rolled his eyes at the brusque tone of the goblin.
"How are things progressing on the gunpowder and fuel?"
The goblin gestured a gloved hand towards where some goblins were standing over a ramshackle table with various piles of differently colored dust and then towards another where goblins did the same except with vials of different colored fluids.
"How does it look?"
Gerard watched as the gunpowder goblins took a smoldering stick and gave it to a drague and have it used to poke the various piles. As he watched, all that would happen is the dust would smother the ember. The vials weren't much different. The goblins would look over the various vials and would sometimes mix or add others to it before going over to the vehicle and pouring half of it into the gas and the other into the oil. They would then have a drague start the vehicle while they stood a safe(ish) distance away, or try to anyway. The end result was a sputtering noise that signaled another failure.
Gerard sighed.
"Very well. If there is nothing else I will leave you to your "peace and quiet"."
The lead goblin was already back over his plans and blueprints before Gerard had even finished talking. He left the workshop and made for the neighboring forge. Just like the workshop, the sounds of work filled the air along with yet more of the unpleasant smell of something burning.
Like the workshop, the forge had seen much effort in seeing that it didn't also burn down while in production. Iron sheets of various quality were plastered on every wall and even the floor. Inside the dimly lit and sooty forge was a Noble Goblin, a Red Cap guard, and dozens of dragues. Just like at the workshop, the Red Cap seemed almost bored as he merely watched the drague and the goblin going about their work. It would seem that overseeing them was probably some sort of punishment, Gerard wondered as he neared the single goblin.
The goblin was almost a mirror image of the one over at the workshop. Same worn work clothes, same leather apron and gloves. The only difference was this one wore thick tinted goggles instead of cracked glasses. His face and clothes was also covered in soot and burn marks. He looked over as a pair of dragues worked the forge. He would bark or discipline one if it messed up. If one messed up too bad it would be thrown into the fire and another would replace it.
But that was only for unimportant things like simple repair work. For something like making the bomb casings for the grease bombs or the tanks for the flamethrowers he would work the forge personally. Given that both were at the behest of Gerard, it wasn't a big surprise that he turned his attention away from the menials and made for Gerard through the sooty workforce of dragues and spoke simply and bluntly.
"Gerard."
"Evening. I'm doing the rounds and have come for a progress report."
"Good. Getting plenty of iron and the foundry is coming along."
"That's it?"
"No. Colonel requested some specialty items to be made."
"Oh?" Gerard asked and the goblin went over to where a large open-faced helmet sat on a table. It was thick metal with leather straps hooked to a chin guard, the eyes were thick mesh that one would barely be able to see through.
"What is this for?"
"Don't know. Colonel requested it. Along with other orders."
"What other orders?"
"More armor. Thick and big. For trogs." The goblin explained and went over to where some plans were and showed them to Gerard. On them was a rough sketch of a trog with an ensemble of heavy metal armor along with the strange helmet. The armor had a vague look of French knights if he recalled the depictions in the books he's read.
"Did he say why he needed it?" Gerard asked as he handed back the plans but the goblin only shrugged.
"Master also came by and asked for similar armor for sisters." He said and handed a better depiction of similar heavy armor. Keeping with themes though, both suits of heavy armor seemed to mirror medieval French knights. If a French knight was 9ft tall and bigger than a horse that is.
Seems Master Mortimer and the Colonel are beefing up for a fight, Gerard noted. Then again, if the reports he's seen from the Colonel are true, he's expecting conflict with the dwarves along with possible conflict with the recently arrived National Guard. While the ogres might also have thick skin, a suit of armor wouldn't be remiss.
"Thank you. Are there any requests that I should note before I leave?"
"More metal. And stone when available." The goblin stated.
Gerard nodded and took his leave, patting himself of soot that had fallen on his clothes and headed back to the manor. He could check on the drague shanty town. But why would anyone in their right mind willingly go into that den of squalor and filth? Even thoughts of checking up on the Hedge Goblins was also thrown out with a shudder. He hated how much of the hedge had started to overgrow the western wall and into the woods. Master Mortimer didn't seem to notice or care if he did. But Gerard supposed as long as they kept the hedges that faced the front of the estate well tended to then he would leave them be. Not like he didn't have plenty of flame to burn them out if he had to.