“A goboid alone is as dangerous to any of us as would a ten-Summers-old human child armed with a pointy stick. The largest of them will grow to about a meter in height, with a thick greenish-grey skin, pointy ears, and the relative intelligence of a particularly forward-thinking rat. They become a nuisance when there’s a lot of them gathered and their thieving becomes bold. Honestly, all of this was in the Guild orientation classes.”

“Nobody goes to those,” Davan said as the small, scattered village of Nest came into view among the tall trees lining the road. “Why waste your time with classes when you can go out and kill beasts for money? Besides, they don’t say things we don’t all already know. I’ve killed plenty of goboids in my village.”

“You go to them to make sure you don’t go hunting anything really dangerous, like a corallin or a dray.” Vergil was making a very determined effort to get his party mates to agree to take the classes once back in Valen.

“Corallins are big kitty cats. They’re not that dangerous for three people.”

“They hunt in big groups and lay down ambushes. Like goboids. It’s not uncommon for large bands of goboids to seriously injure or even kill people they rob.”

“I swear by all the gods, you’re relentless,” Davan said, exasperated. Merk snickered behind him.

“Oh no, you let him have it, Vergil. Maybe he finally listens to someone.”

“I have had a very hard time finding people to work with. Do you have any idea how many dishes I had to wash so I could eat? I need all three of you alive and well. I’m not going back to the dishes,” Vergil said. He had tried his best to befriend Davan, and it had worked for the most part.

“All right, you preaching bastard. We’ll go to the orientations when we get back. Are you bloody happy now?”

Sidora had gone ahead to confer with the village head. When she came back, she showed the way to a secluded homestead and a patch of forest from which most incursions came at night. They set up camp and spread out in search of good watch posts.

The plan, concocted during the trip out, was to let the goboids do their raid and then have Merk track them back to the hidden entrances of their lair. Easy pickings from there.

But raids had become rare in recent weeks. Villagers had started locking away their valuables in strong boxes and then bolted those down against thieving critters. The thieves had become for most people around Nest a kind of nuisance they had learned to live with. Their notice asking for help in the big city had gone unanswered for near to a whole season and the local militias had more pressing matters to deal with.

It was uneventful for the first tenday as no raid happened in Nest.

Sidora brought tea to the men during the watch hours to help them stay awake, and did not relent in her efforts to get Vergil to talk to her.

After the trip out, and now around the fire, he found that she wasn’t quite as terrifying as the women aboard the Gloria and even felt comfortable to have her around as long as he could sit to hide her effect on him.

He also learned that it was offensive to refer to her as a woman. That was human talk. She was an aelir’rei and preferred to be spoken of as such. Most humans never learned to make the distinction. Aelir society was complex and strict, and using human terms for them was considered the height of rudeness. Taking revenge for slights was an art form for the aelir, though Sidora assured him that she had no such intentions for him. The right poison took a long time to brew.

Vergil tried to commit the distinction to memory even if he really couldn’t understand it.

They slept in the mornings and in the evenings for a few hours, while in the daylight they helped with odd jobs around the village for food and some money. Vergil found that he was terrified of birds when the first cockerel charged him. Sidora had to calm and coax him down from tree he had climbed, to the amusement of the others.

“Gods help us if the goboids dress in feathers,” Davan ribbed him during their modest dinner in camp that evening.

Vergil blushed and stared down at his cheese and onions. The Experiences couldn’t compare to the feeling of growing closer to actual people.

Nothing could. The loneliness and isolation squatted down in his memory like great beasts just waiting to snap at him. He’d do anything to keep them away forever.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“What the matter, Vergil?” Sidora asked him. Merk and Davan had sauntered back off to their watches. There was a chill wind coming down from the mountain, a first tender caress of the cold Winter to come.

“Nothing,” he said, running a palm over his face. “I haven’t really been with people before. This is my first time working with someone else. I’m happy, even if I spend my days up in a tree.”

Sidora laughed and it was the most beautiful laugh Vergil could possibly imagine. Her wide eyes reflected the firelight as she leaned towards him, looking mischievous.

“I will tell you a secret, if you promise to keep it,” she said and pressed her third and fourth fingers to her lips.

Vergil leaned in and his heart thundered in his chest. She had finally managed to get him to look at her, and he couldn’t pull his eyes away.

“I promise.”

Sidora smiled and winked at him, “We like you too, Vergil. Even Davan. If this doesn’t get us money, we’d still like you to stay with us. Will you?”

He smiled and nodded, not trusting his voice for more.

The raid came that very same night. About twenty small figures crept from the dark of the trees and proceeded to steal whatever they could grab. They made off with cheese and meat, eggs and a few chickens they killed on their roosts. Vergil spotted one of the small creatures as it was making its way across a reaped field, and immediately signalled for Merk.

The ranger made his way back to camp late in the morning, red-faced from effort but smiling wide. He had followed the creatures all the way out of the forest and into the skirts of the mountains. They had an entrance cleverly concealed behind some stone pillars, practically invisible until you either fell into it or had the right angle of sight to see it opening up. Merk hadn’t gotten the angle and found it the old-fashioned way.

“I was enjoying myself helping around the village,” Sidora confessed as she sat with her arms around her knees in front of the fire that evening. “It’s so quiet out here compared to the city.”

“It’s too quiet,” Davan protested. “I could actually hear Merk every time he went for a leak. Pisses like a horse.” He got an elbow to the ribs from the ranger. Sidora laughed quietly.

“It reminds me of home actually,” she said, sipping her tea with a faraway look in her eyes. “The quiet rustling of the leaves in Fall. Smell of cut grass in the morning. Friendly people that say hello when you walk by. It’s just so different from Valen. I had forgotten how this felt.”

It got quiet around the fire for a few heartbeats. The wood crackled and snapped, sending up a few embers in the dark night sky.

“So, we go in the morning?” Davan broke the moment, stabbing with his sword at the fire pit.

“At first light. They should be asleep and we’ll have the element of surprise,” Vergil confirmed. “Take care of the shadows and nooks as we go in. They’re cave animals so they’ll hide and try and surprise us if they get wind we’re coming. Plus, they’ll probably have a lot of side tunnels to scurry away through. We should kill as many as we can so they don’t return any time soon.”

The rest nodded.

“What do we do if they have a live chicken in there?” Davan couldn’t help himself. The rest laughed, Vergil included.

Finding the warren proved a lot easier than any of them had expected. There were just a few tunnels and intersections and all were marked clearly by goboid tracks and droppings. They were upon the sleeping group of creatures in less than an hour after entering the tunnels. They slaughtered most of them before the rest woke and only one managed to escape the killing grounds, running screaming into the deeper tunnels. There was no point in chasing a single goboid down into the dark.

Davan and Vergil took turns at dragging the corpses to the centre of the lair to form a large pile. Merk shifted through the assortment of junk collected there, picking out valuables. It turned out to be quite a haul after all. The thieves had collected weapons they never used, coins and jewellery, and even an odd assortment of books with particularly colourful covers.

“Sidora, this would look nice on you,” Merk called to the healer, holding up a thin silver chain bracelet that had probably been stolen off some merchant’s cart. “Sidora?” he called again when no answer came.

Davan and Vergil both stopped their work and looked towards the section of cave where the healer had last been. She wasn’t there.

“Sidora!” all three called out.

Something moved in the mouth of a tunnel but it wasn’t the wayward healer. Three ratmen walked in, furry faces grinning, each taller than the humans. Three more walked in through the opposite tunnel, hissing a low snarl of threat. One of them held Sidora by the hair and dragged her around. Her face was bloodied and her body limp.

Another of the beasts held the crumpled body of their missing goboid.

Davan charged before the others even reached for their weapons. The ratmen, tall and brawny beasts, were armed with swords and clubs. He didn’t get the chance to swing his sword before one of the creatures grabbed him by the neck and slammed him head-first into the wall. He went down in a pile with barely a noise.

Merk was back-to-back with Vergil and they were surrounded. One of the rats hissed at them and lunged. Vergil managed to deflect the thrust with his shield, but realised the feint too late. A steel encased fist knocked him flat, vision swimming from the pain.

Merk dropped his crossbow and surrendered. Him, they beat into ragged ruin.