Luda and I dine in our room for several days and whenever we leave, the elder hobgoblin outside our door followed, advising us where we can’t go, which was everywhere except ground level. Once around the stables, courtyard, servant quarters and the North Gate and we were done on the first day. I didn’t try to make a dash through the gate. Two sets of female hobgoblins eyes trailed my every movement, and even though they were supposed to keep intruders out they seemed more intent to ensure I remained in.
Expecting a sleep-in like every previous morning, Luda awakens me instead with puppy-like nips and licks on any patch of my naked flesh with an occasional squeal requiring me to hug her into stillness. I blink my eyes closed as someone, and I am fairly sure I know who has drawn our window curtains wide open allowing the morning rays of sunshine to light up our room. With her smiling in silence, I then catch the various yells and shouts from outside, not of anger but simple merchant hawking while trying to sell their goods and customer hustle and bustle. Using my hands to shield my eyes, she escapes and begins tugging on my arm while laughing. I rise with only a loincloth about me and stumble towards our open window as she continues to pull on my arm. Her giggling fit painting her face bright green. Below us, spread from the walls of the Manor to the limit of the crossroads are numerous tents, all roughly the same size, in rows with a growing crowd of hobgoblins descending upon the traders and merchants. I note many males have none, one or several females escorting them, the females bartering and fetching while the male saunter about, aloof. The biggest surprise though is the fact, of the merchants I can see they are male with few exceptions.
“What do you think? Can we go shop?” Her eyes are full of excitement.
“Shouldn’t we wait for breakfast and then ask permission?”
She cuddles my arm between her naked breasts. “We can have breakfast there.” Her head nods towards the window. “Smell the aromas …”
I look out the window again and take the time to appreciate the vibrant living going on below us, what the heck, a trip outside would be a welcome change. “Ask our shadow?” My turn to flick my head. Several light claps and she races to the door pulling it open and I overhear some chatter and then closing the door she runs back to leap into my arms.
“She is going to ask. Now is our chance to go …”
“We aren’t dressed and to sneak out would be to insult our host’s generosity.” I hug her even more. “We wait, although we should get ready.”
Her face turns from disappointment to happiness and as I release my wife, she is off diving into our trunk fishing out her clothes.
The noise of the market teases us, her eyes look up into mine moisture gathering in them. Breakfast is well behind us, mid-morning I would think at least, and she gave up on looking out the window to curl up upon my lap long ago. I carry my wife to our bed, and we settle in for a long wait cuddling together.
---
Luda shifts in my arms first and then rubs my face. As my eyes open, she points to the door, and we are both out of the bed ready to accept company.
There is no knock on the door and with no questioning about being ready, Voria bursts through holding the door back for Lord Torngul to swagger by. His eyes glance about and then settle upon Luda for a heartbeat before descending upon me. With a flick of his hand, he dismisses his bodyguard.
“But …”
She doesn’t say another word, as we all notice him flex the muscles in his arm while making a fist.
With the door shut he waves a hand at the bed and he and I end up, perching upon the edge, side by side, while Luda, standing behind us wraps an arm around our necks. Zeb cracks a warm smile and when Luda kisses his cheek a low chuckle.
Patting her arm with one dark green hand he turns to look upon her eager face. “You can’t go out there, daughter.”
As if someone took all her sweets, Luda’s entire body deflates while her eyes glisten. She blubbers, “Why not father, I won’t go too far, all this time in this room … half a day, a quarter of a day at least …”
He leans his head against her. “You are goblin. How many have you seen in this fort, how many have you seen outside your window?”
I feel the weight of her body withdraw from my back and being the coward I am, concentrate on looking out of the window.
“None, father,” she sniffs.
He nods. “Goblins in this valley are vermin, they serve their masters toiling away in the fields to ensure their betters eat first and eat well. You are tolerated because Lord Klar is tolerated by me. My less than enthusiastic welcome upon my return was due in part to your free presence in my entourage, instead of in chains being dragged behind us all.”
Each word he speaks is a plain fact, he doesn’t speak softly or with false kindness, neither unfeeling nor hard. He is informing his intelligent daughter that this valley has different rules and as the leader here, even with all his power, he is unable to change them.
Her body flops down upon the bed, Zeb and I feel a slight disturbance yet neither of us swivels about.
“So, I am a free prisoner then? How can I serve Lord Klug while if I am unable to leave here?”
He coughs. “You … you can go out at night, they erm, goblins attend to the cleaning of the city at night so it would not be unusual then, well more early morning, pre-dawn.”
“What, so I can go help?” she snarks.
He climbs to his feet and easing himself around the edge of the bed he catches her in an embrace. “This is the way of things. If you go outside every hobgoblin would be within their rights to throw you in chains and send you to the farms. For now, within this fort, you are a mystery as your skin is too green and my authority too great for any to act against you, so here you must stay.”
I ask, “Skin is too green?”
He doesn’t take his eyes off his daughter as he replies, “The native goblins of this valley are more green-yellow I am told. Some know of my daughter’s tribe beyond the river and even now some in my counsel are urging me to conquer them, others advise caution as my prolonged absence or possible death would bring upon a power struggle. A Lord some generations ago did attack. They fought him off, waited out the siege and when the Lord returned in defeat, he had to fight his usurper who in turn quickly captured him and buried him alive. A great insult which none of his family could take revenge for as the usurper had already slaughtered them.”
“I will be a good goblin daughter, father.” She throws herself back upon the bed, her fists pounding the feather mattress.
For the first time in a long time, Lord Torngul’s eyes and mine meet. “You will need to be seen in the city, Zergoa and Duzsia will accompany you. Zergoa is well known, and rumours would have informed many about Duzsia’s presence so you should be safe enough, although I don’t yet know all the players in this cesspit of a city.” He shakes his head. “At times I think they wish to be Lord and then at other times I believe, many wish to influence the current Lord to avoid the day-to-day crud which comes with the position. It is as Zergoa says, my word is absolute until it isn’t.”
Power struggles, this I know about given my previous lives while working for the GPA. “You need to play them off against each other Lord Torngul. They must each want something so ensure they need to slightly offend another to be granted it and only grant it when you know another wants it. Make it look as if you are doing what you are doing because of either the influence or threat of another, who moves you to do so. What power as Lord do I have to resist such things you answer when questioned? If I say no, then they threaten …”
“Won’t that make me look weak?”
“Are you weak? If not, then some of your ‘friends’ may overstep, and you may, chose to squash them immediately or wait for others to take advantage and then test those supposedly loyal to you to fix the problem. You can’t wait though until they outnumber you, strike the strongest against you, hard, fast and without mercy. The others will learn and grow more cautious, but you will know who they are now.”
---
I step through the North Gate, cast an eye left, study the face of the female hobgoblin guard. Her eyes catch mine and we settle on an accord. She doesn’t agree yet obeys her Lord to allow me to leave. I cast my eyes right, and this guard’s eyes are drawn thin, a quiet ‘I am certain to not see you again, so sad, not’ vibe. Her petite lower jaw tusks framing a shit-eating grin to reinforce her fare-not-so-well.
As Duzsia and Zergoa draw up either side of me we march out from under the battlements and onto the crossroads proper, hard, and firm underfoot with a hint of dust which wind swirls pick up quickly and drop just as quickly.
“Hang back, be disinterested in protecting me. You are both after all sworn to protect your Lord, not some upstart from another valley.”
The start of a word is cut off, I swivel my head about and catch Duzsia’s hand releasing Zergoa’s.
“Fear not Zergoa, Lord Klug is not so easily slain, and you will have plenty of time to rush in and save me from my own folly.”
There aren’t any tent merchants set against or in front of the Lord’s Northern wall for obvious reasons, yet on the east and west sides to the very edge of the corner merchants claim their patch. Internally I call my nanorobots to attention. After two hundred years I suspect they have learnt and grown, once designed for human bodies I am now certain these hybrids have had sufficient time to acclimatise to hobgoblin physiology. The time it took them to adjust my face for example a case in point. The nanorobot hive artificial intelligence mind responding like a me within me, ready and at attention. Their directive clear, obey and preserve.
“Prepare this body for battle, heighten my senses, enhance my tactical thinking. These are your priorities unless I am wounded. If that happens repair as I won’t need heightened senses as my enemy will be upon me.”
The muffled bartering words on the wind clear, “Two gold bits, my children will not eat if I sell to you for such a …” Heavy breathing on my left and right distracts me. My wives obey me, yet they tense up, not agreeing with me, even Duzsia who knows me best. I instruct my nanorobots to enhance according to my cues, when I squint with my eyes or pause to listen for example, then enhance.
---
After strolling about, returning polite smiles to others while passing each other and several merchants there is an infinitesimal lull as we make our way from the southern side market to the south-western quarter. I will my nanorobots to further enhance my hearing. I overhear whispers, the quiet closing of chests and scuffling of boots against the roadway. The wind picks up and tent cloth snaps while trying to break free of the ropes tied to loops of metal hammered into the road for this purpose.
A she hobgoblin lunges from around one corner of a tent, her spear point in slow motion heading towards my heart. I twist my torso to the right at the last moment and instead of the impact she expects, the lack of resistance propels her into a stumble. I chop across the back of her neck with my left fist, the nanorobots marshalling my strength for a hammer blow. I then summersault forward from a standing start returning to my feet and jump about to face my second assailant, who is now regaining his stance and readying his spear. The first was to immobilise me, the second to finish me off, I suspect.
With his back to Duzsia and Zergoa, he growls a challenge. It would seem their act of indifference extremely effective and perhaps a signal from their Lord that while this guest is significant, he isn’t so important his loss would be missed. Holding out a hand towards him I curl my fingers towards me. Perhaps my confidence is a warning to him. With stealthy cautious pacing, he circles me, him with spear and me unarmed. My dagger is sheathed upon my hip, but that is my only weapon. The crowd of tents has also withdrawn I notice, the front ropes of several being untied and held back by the merchants themselves to form an impromptu battle square. A glint of coins catches my eye. Bets are being taken and a lot of the “action” is around Zergoa!
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I hear his boot advance and snap my head around in time to leap over his rising spear thrust and roll away. Distraction, almost my death. My opponent is no ordinary wielder of weapons, he has a right to be secure in his skill and I can’t use any acrobatic manoeuvrers to escape again, his rising spear thrust proof of that. I slide my dagger out of its sheath and flash the blade at him. His lips draw back to reveal his teeth and the massive girth at the base of each of his tusks.
Duzsia is behind me. This is an absolute certainty, and I don’t need to glance to check. Then I feel a tap on my shoulder. Then another. My opponent rests back on his heels. What the? I look about and down following Duzsia’s eyes. Her boot is across the back of the neck of my first assailant, now struggling to rise. She focuses on my dagger and her hand curls in askance. I hand my dagger to her, twisting my face as I do, totally confused.
“I agree,” she says while taking my dagger.
While trying to work out what is happening, her head nods forwards and as I turn my head to follow her line of sight, my eyes catch my opponent advancing upon me. I break left, skirting the edge of the battle square to avoid another of his thrusts, although now without any weapon. To my annoyance, Duzsia turns my dagger over in her hands while sitting upon the back of my first assailant.
A cat and mouse game develops, his quick thrusts, my quicker avoidance. He doesn’t over commit and with his strength he doesn’t have to, which means he doesn’t stumble forward giving me an opportunity.
Yelps, protests and swearing rise in the crowd behind me, shortly after those same voices turn to apology and shuffling boots. Someone is arriving, yet I keep my attention forward and notice for a half a heartbeat his eyes open wider. He knows, although doesn’t expect this visitor. I know this visitor also, by association. Her perfume was more subtle last time, this time she overdid the hint to the equal of a sledgehammer.
Klugak’s words confirmation. “Why do you assault the Lord’s friend at the foot of the Lord’s seat?”
I hear a plop, boar excrement for sure, while my attacker drops briefly to one knee. “I chose to honour our Lord, rid him of this embarrassment.” He thrusts his spear in my direction. “A Hob who keeps equal company with a goblin. With his death, I will free our Lord of whatever debt this filth has over him.”
Another plop.
“You swear this slaying is in no way a challenge to your Lord’s position?”
I almost choke with rage, what game is this? Can anyone slain another if they come up with a good reason? What madness is this, where is the law in this city?
“No, I swear.”
I hear his shift in the saddle. “Will none offer words in this Hob’s defence, offer him citizenship into their family?”
There is absolute silence. No baby cries. No parent calls to a child. No merchant shouts out to champion the quality of their goods.
“So be it. He is his own.”
In the lull I glance behind me, Klugak is mounted upon his boar and on either side on foot a female hobgoblin, armoured with a spear, bodyguards my guess. Slightly behind and to one side is his daughter, also mounted. Her boar in fact snorting into the hair of Klugak’s bodyguard and as my eyes rise to register my disgust, she instead greets me with a salacious smile, her tongue running along her bottom lip, curling around each tusk at the start and finish.
I hear him and bolt. His spear scrapes along my leather cuirass leaving a gouge. Distraction again, although my nanorobots are possibly more prepared for my escape this time than I.
“Stand still young Hob and this will be over quickly, and I promise painless as well,” he growls.
My confusion clears, I am not a citizen and therefore have no protection under the law whatever that means. Worse and I suspect more importantly I have no family to speak for me, defend me or protect me from this type of boar crap challenge. Lord Torngul Heartsplitter wouldn’t be able to invite me into his family because as a male I could then challenge him, one on one for the Lordship without repercussion, after all the strongest in the family should lead. Zeb must have learnt this in the days after he invited me to dinner. The only way I would be allowed, and begrudgingly at that into this city with some rights would be to fight for them.
My boots suffer as I grind them into the light soil upon the hard-packed road, this time will end differently. He feints to my left and then thrusts at my right, yet I don’t react except to sway from side to side like before. As his spear blade passes by my fist smacks him in his nose and rocks him back on his heels. He thought I would dodge like previous, and he favoured one side hoping I would shift into the thrust. He blinks twice and I smack his face again. Dropping his spear, he takes a couple of faltering steps backwards. I follow and smack him again, his nose now leaking black blood as his limp body crashes to the ground. I wince. A loud crack sounds off as the back of his head hits the road.
A female hobgoblin runs to him, and another female runs to me. I expect the first, not so much the second. Her perfume now overpowering and threatening to force me into unconsciousness. Except my nanorobots compensate in time to dial back the depth of my sense of smell. Until this moment I didn’t think heightened senses would ever be a liability although now I find myself struggling to take a breath.
“Klaria, release him now and demonstrate some decorum. Now! You hear me.”
There is anger in his voice although I sense a hollowness, this is an act of some sort. I manage to take a deep breath though as she releases her hug slightly, almost regretfully and she looks over her shoulder towards her father.
“Now!” shouts Klugak.
I grab her and throw her body back in a swooning position and look down into a set of eyes bristling with shock, fear, and excitement. With her mouth slightly agape, I pounce. My lips are upon hers and I probe with my tongue. Initial resistance gives way, and her tongue fights back with our tusks clashing. We then wrestle as equals in this spontaneous lust filled kiss.
“Now!” her father shouts yet again and this time the anger is real.
I withdraw and she follows. I place a hand upon her cheek and her eyes open. “When I am worthy, I will beat down your father’s door and claim you as my first wife. Once together, none will tear us apart.”
Her body weight drops dead. Did she faint? I lift her to standing and as I do, she bats her eyelids, her face trying to follow through with a coy expression, the tusks spoiling the full effect. The sentiment though still reaches into my heart. With this act, I thought I could withdraw any hint of reaction or feelings or push forward, go over the top. Anything to take the initiative away from Klugak and whatever plan he had in mind.
His bodyguards approach us and with that hint I release her into their care, my eyes never leaving hers. They push and guide her back, assisting her to mount. Klugak waves them on, including his daughter while positioning his boar in our direct line of sight. Casting a look of uncertainty at me he follows his daughter and shortly they are out of sight.
The male is still prostrate, the female weeping over him. Duzsia and Zergoa wary yet calm.
I demand my dagger from Duzsia who shrugs and then calls out, “Is he dead?”
Like a whirlwind, my first assailant rises and turns upon me shouting, “He barely lives, how can a kid bring down so great a warrior Hob, how?”
“Didn’t you hear his head crack against the ground? My punches didn’t hurt, only stun. He should have kept his feet instead of falling.” I know my logic is false, but I hope in her emotional state almost any logic will work for a time.
Her hands grab at her hair. “No! You.” She points at me. “You are responsible for this, and you will pay!” Her spittle lands upon my face and chest.
I slap her across the face. Her eyes blink and I slap her across the other side of her face, tears and snot go flying this time. Her arms reach out for my neck, yet I am quicker, ducking under her aim and bringing my own hands around her neck. Her hands grab at my forearms to no effect, and I begin to throttle.
“Well, then I best start by killing you first, one less for later I reckon.”
A heavy sigh and shuddering release of breath announces the passing of the male Hob. Any fight in her body leaves in that instant and I find myself holding up the female as much as strangling her.
Her dull lifeless eyes fall upon mine, a hand width separates us. “It took us two harvest seasons to earn our citizenship and in three punches you have destroyed our fledgling family name.”
I suspect she and him would have been the entirety of the family intending to make me or anyone pay. Why then seek out this fight with me? In the background the battle square is once again a market and Hobs begin to shop once again. None pay any attention to us now, is her death assumed by all? Duzsia and Zergoa guide me and my defeated captive out of the market, generally heading for the North Gate.
“Where are you taking me,” she whispers. I have an arm reaching around her back, a hand locking onto her shoulder and holding her body in tight to mine.
“Out of the market to avoid anyone eavesdropping, so I can ask you some questions.”
Her dull eyes look up at me. “Ask me what you want and then slay me. I would ask but one simple kindness, burn his body as he deserves. Mine, simply leave for the wild animals as I deserve nothing since my spear-thrust missed bringing this doom upon us both.”
I release her from my embrace and stand her before me needing to hold onto her shoulders. At some point, she decides to fully stand on her own.
“Good. Now, why did you and your partner decide to attack me?”
“For the reward of course.” Her face casts a knowing look at Zergoa, hinting of course that I am the imbecilic here.
I shake her, barely resisting the urge to do more. “Who offers this reward.”
She smiles, I assume enjoying my annoyance. “Who knows, it is said the goblins post the jobs on the board overnight. The money is held by another, and this will find a way into your pocket if you succeed. I don’t know anymore.”
I am convinced she doesn’t have the will left to lie so move on. “How do you earn your right to citizenship?”
Her laughter seals my annoyance with her and I slap her, which sobers her up. She rubs the side of her face, eyes sulking. “You didn’t need to strike me so hard.”
“What do you care, you will be wild animal food after the next couple of questions.”
Somehow my reply sends a bolt of panic through her. Didn’t she mean to say the words before? Has she changed her mind?
“Yes, why should I care. Can you slap me hard enough, so I fall and crack my skull also?” she murmurs.
Somehow the trauma has broken her, so I best ask my questions in order of importance. I shake her until she looks at me. “How do earn the right to citizenship?”
She pouts. “You get on the goblin detail, oversee the vermin to make sure they do their job, don’t pilfer, don’t destroy and all turn-up. Two seasons … for us. It depends you see on how many are awaiting citizenship. If many then you spend a shorter time, if few then they don’t release you even after you have spent enough time because they need someone to watch over their slaves for them. It also teaches you about the board. The goblins can’t read but they can follow instructions.”
“Who holds the reward money?”
She opens her mouth and then closes it slowly not even starting a laugh. “Not the goblins or they would run off with it and not stop until they were out of this valley. All I can say is after a job the reward is paid, there has never in two seasons at least been a disappointment on that score.”
I leave her to stand by herself and steal a glance at Duzsia and Zergoa both of whom are on watch and paying almost no attention to me or the hobgoblin female. “Are all the jobs murders?”
She shakes her head. “Most are escorts, some thefts, few murders, yet all pay … we would have had enough …” Her cheeks flush a deeper green as her eyes cast up to follow a cloud scudding across a blue sky.
“Alright then lead on.” I nudge her away waving my hand towards the city proper.
“Where?”
“I assume the house you and him have purchased or are about to purchase.”
She stops dead and looks over her shoulder at me. “How did you know we were about to purchase a house?”
“By your immediate response to defeat – giving up on life as if your one true dream was shattered. You said few murders, therefore the reward must be great and as new citizens, I would expect you to want a proper house and not start your new family in a tent. How did I go?”
She slaps my chest and I allow her to work out her feelings until I decide enough is enough and grab her wrists. She shakes free and her eyes work to avoid mine. “Follow me,” she says, her words frail and without life.
The last house on the eastern side of the north end of the north-south road is where we end up. They add to the main road, not start again from behind, odd. The four outer walls are almost complete, no inner walls and of course no roof, not even cross beams. Under construction then.
“The reward would have seen the work complete and then some for furniture.” Her green complexion glows. “A bed at least.”
“How much do you owe, or in other terms how cheap is murder in this city?” I growl.
Her head tilts and then she casts a knowing smile. “You have a distaste for death, yet torture is a means to an end? Why do I suspect his death could have been instant at your hands, yet you played with your toy instead?” Her eyes open wide. “We are toys to you, aren’t we? Including them.” Her hand waves towards Duzsia and Zergoa. “Do they know? Of course, they know, they like playing your game with you.”
My hand clamps down upon her lower jaw. “They are the Lord Torngul’s honour guard, they owe me nothing and I am nothing to them.”
She shakes her head free. “Boar crap!” I tighten my grip yet she still speaks, “Your strength is exceptional for one so young, I wonder if you could break my jaw with your immature adolescent grip?” My hold on her jaw thwarts her attempt at a crap eating smile, even so, I sense her win as much as she does.
“Where are you from?” I growl.
She attempts to throw her head back and laugh. She fails, yet mirth remains in her defiant eyes. “The Valley of the Hobs, the first non-believers to feel the wrath of the High Priestess of Klug. Our healthiest and strongest female goblins, once proud and free enslaved to breed with her son. My family line is one of the few to survive continuously until now, until you. I recognise their fanaticism in your eyes and now accept my partner and I were never fated to succeed.”
My turn to smile. “Perhaps I should marry you and inherit your citizenship? Then let you be a victim to some accident.” She attempts to shake her head. “Why do you think there are murders of nobodies? Murder the partner, court, and marry the survivor, a quicker and more pleasant pursuit then night shift with goblins for the impatient and wealthy Hobs from other valleys.” I shift my grip to the back of her neck and force her to look at my face. “You thought me a nobody, easy coin yet you were probably wondering why my death remained on the board longer than most. I will tell you why. Everybody else knew I was not being murdered for citizenship. I was being targeted as a test of strength, mine.”
Tears run down her face as I drag her into the half-built house. She has figured out too much out I tell myself. Who would believe her though I try to counter? Flinging lies at one who recently slew her partner to be expected yet he clearly had the advantage in the challenge, spear vs hands? It wouldn’t take many, one or two more challengers and I only need to reach for my strength once. A youth overpowering mature warriors … each win confirmation of her wild accusation.
Dragging her through the door frame of the future doorway I note for one who previously, asked for death, now blubbers profusely protesting this very fate. When the moment arrives, I decide no one wants to die, truth be told. I find a corner deep in shadow, the sinking sun now low in the west assisting. I force her to sit beside me and wrap my arm around her neck.
“Sleep now,” I whisper and squeeze.