--- Master Mason Trolbor POV

“Come on you laggards we have enough stone and payment to complete the walls and then we can decide what to do next,” I bellow. My current crew consists of two Apprentices, a Journeyman, and a Craftsman yet I still need to instruct them every single day on a job many days old and like our previous buildings. Sometimes I wish I could go back to working as a Craftsman under a Master, simply go to a job, do my job, and go home. I sigh, no I think again, the wife is now used to living in a modicum of luxury and I doubt she will allow me to give that up.

I pass under the door frame to inspect the site and make sure nothing has been disturbed and notice a figure leaning against the western wall. How the morning sun hasn’t woken them up is anyone’s guess. As I peer closer, I do a double-take, is that who I think it is? How could she sleep here overnight? Did she and her partner have a lovers tiff? I thought them one of the few keepers after hearing their story. Almost had me reducing the price for the build, but fortunately, my wife convinced me otherwise, the bruises from my love’s gentle persuasion taking several days to fade. I could have smacked her back of course, but when in love you aren’t permitted to beat up your wife, so they say. That was the one thing my mother beat into me and has never been forgotten. She brought me up a proper hobgoblin she did.

I take a couple of steps towards her, kick her boot with mine. Nothing? Is she dead? There isn’t any blood … Behind me the crew are starting to unload the cart, dropping the stone with thumps upon the ground and cursing when they catch a finger or the like, yet she continues to sleep? I sidle up beside her ensuring her arms are hanging away from me, you never know with these warrior types.

“Psst!” I try to get Vorgog’s attention and when I think I don’t he sticks his head back through the doorway.

“Yes, boss?”

I point to the body of our client.

“She dead or asleep boss?” he asks and right before my eyes he strolls in and shakes her shoulder. I punch him in the shoulder.

“What gives Boss? I thought you wanted me to wake her. How are we going to finish that wall with her laying against it?”

I march towards him and raise my hand when behind us a strange gurgling sound draws our attention. She drags up her legs and wraps her arms around them as if cold, yet under the morning sun, she should be more than warm.

“You alright, miss?” I ask leaning forward, feeling brave now I have another with me.

“Yeah, we need you to move to finish the wall, for your house I might add, so you know …,” Vorgog unkindly adds in his boarhorn like voice.

She snaps her eyes open, so I can’t punish him I guess and at least this confirms once and for all she isn’t dead.

“I …”

Her words stay in her throat and now that I notice, given the morning sunlight she does have some markings, maybe bruising on her throat. Who would do that? What trouble has she dug up for herself now? Is she hiding here instead of being found in their tent? There are no weapons, no spare clothes and if I do say so myself her face is blank, at a loss even.

“Water …” she manages to scratch out.

I grab the offered waterskin from Vorgog and hand the skin to her. She upends the skin immediately and doesn’t stop to take a breath guzzling the entire skin.

“More please,” she says. Her voice is much better so why not?

I look to ask Vorgog and find him returning with two waterskins. I raise an eyebrow, he has never moved that fast on a job before, ever and he started as my first apprentice eight years ago!

I hand over the first in exchange for the empty skin, which I return to Vorgog and when I turn back the first is empty and her hand is reaching out for the second, which I again swap for the empty. This one though, she seems to savour, even splashing some on her face.

“Thank you from the bottom of my heart,” she says. “I apologise for inconveniencing you and will be on my way.”

I hold out a hand to help, which she grabs and shortly after is on her feet. Then she does some weird dance of some sort, hands touching toes, legs bending at the knees and finally leaning against the half-finished wall straining one leg and then the other. Most strange. I break from my admiring stupor in time to ask her at least one question as she leaves for the doorway.

“Will you have the gold pieces to pay for the completion in the next couple of days? Your husband did mention you both had a job lined up and everything …”

Her head drops. Have I touched upon a tragedy, has he died from a job and that is why she hides here?

Without looking at me she replies, “I will have the gold by then I am certain.”

“Good luck Briksia,” I yell after her, then she is gone, hurrying off in search of her husband I would guess …

--- Briksia Valley of the Hobs, Warrior POV

I stare up at a window. Beyond reason, I am drawn to this one place. Hobgoblins walk by some pointing at me, others ignoring me while continuing their journeys. Wishing to be there won’t get me there and all I know now is I don’t know where I am or how I can suddenly live again as a female Hob of all beings and not a goblin. He did promise me I would wander lost in darkness if he didn’t return my spirit and I can confirm the truth of that. In many ways, I accepted this fate yet hoped for more. Those who, upon his death, he returned their spirits are possibly the lucky ones as I am uncertain my current situation will be for better or worse.

Using the shade, I stand in as a guide I walk south and then east around this huge building, the rising sun upon my face and then north with the sunlight on my shoulder. Just my luck, I took the long way, turning west with the rising morning sun upon my back I discover the front door to this huge house, a set of huge double doors that are open yet guarded. How will I satisfy this urge to find him? Will he still be called Lord Klug? What of High Priestess Rexa and her madness? Even without thoroughly exploring this settlement, if Klugites were present in this place, everyone would know it because they would be controlling every aspect of their existence. So no, I don’t ask for Lord Klug.

Ha! I have thought of the perfect in …

“What do you want? Know you approach the seat of Torngul Heartsplitter the ruler of this valley and all who reside here.”

Is it that obvious I am not from around here, although I or the previous owner of this body is building a house?

“I know that. I am building a house here. I wish to petition Lord Torngul to investigate the disappearance of my husband.”

With a tired look on her face, she glances at the other guard. Over to her then …

“While the Lord does allow viewings on occasion you need to report the loss of your husband to the Lord’s Second, Klugak who you will find on, oh that’s right, being a citizen, you will know where that is.” She smiles exposing her tusks, such as they are, skinny fragile things I am certain I could snap off with ease.

I am not done yet, because my new life wouldn’t just happen, Lord Farmer Hob would be directly involved or a helper for certain, otherwise why am I drawn to him even after death?

“I need to petition the Lord directly as I believe one in his employ could be responsible for the disappearance of my husband,” I state with forceful certainty.

The second guard leans upon her spear, with a smirk on her face.

The first guard replies in a childlike voice, “That is a foolhardy statement to make, which could lead to your death or worse. Are you really, really sure you want us to report this to our Lord?”

“You will only have this one chance to withdraw your claim citizen,” says the second with what I can tell is a deliberate false concern. I am certain her act is for my benefit, to confirm that I, obviously a confused peasant, understands the dire consequences which could await me.

Of course, they don’t know what I know. Lord Farmer Hob is in this building, and I will be able to identify him, and I hope he will be able to identify me.

I nod. “I understand,” I reply with a neutral tone in my voice, while deep down I would rather knock their heads together. Somehow, I know I have the strength to do so …

One shouts over her shoulder, “Dorgrav! A citizen to see the Lord, accusing one of his servants of murder.” When she turns back to look at me, she throws me a mischievous smile.

I throw a mischievous smile right back at her while biting the inside of my cheek to remind me to keep playing the game.

They wait. I wait.

I did consider asking why they needed to be such bitches but considering the amount of angst I have had to swallow while tiptoeing around the madness of High Priestess Rexa I have a lifetime of experience to draw upon. They, as their Lord’s guards only have this small opportunity to be greater than they actually are.

Behind an aged male hobgoblin, no hair, well that hasn’t changed, stand two impressive-looking warrior female hobgoblins and I am immediately envious of their bright polished armour and their matching stern faces. Old Hob male, more Hob females? Some things have changed.

He looks me up and down and while nodding adds, “Yes, well if you insist follow us, you can of course go now, and we can forget everything.” His head rises and I shake my head. “Right, good, then follow.”

I lockstep behind him while the two thugs who arrived with him hang back a half step behind me. Entering the huge house proper, I notice massive boars held behind fences and opposite them multiple doors leading to separate rooms I would guess and then I must turn and climb a wide set of stairs made of stone. We bypass one floor and continue to climb without seeing anyone else. At the top of the stairs, we then turn down a hallway until I stand before a set of double doors taller than all of us. The male taps the doors with a length of wood, polished and shiny. I suspect his authority or the like, I know the High Priestess insisted on such regalia. I always felt a weapon to be a more effective authority.

The doors open and a duplicate of the two thugs hold the doors open and I need to do a double-take before entering. So, to be a thug you need to look like each other or possibly it is the armour and helm making them appear similar. Yet I am drawn to one inside this large room, in fact, I catch myself staring and must force my eyes front and centre. I feel two sets of eyes bore into my back as I assess the male hobgoblin standing before me. Huge, the Hobs of the valley, even her son would be slightly shorter and if the mass of his body is solid muscle I would like to bet on the outcome because he may stand a chance. I drop to one knee on instinct. I know for a fact he isn’t Lord Farmer Hob, his presence is significant, much like the guard but nothing more.

“Rise and speak your acquisition.”

“I woke this morning, my husband missing and yet I am certain one of your retainers knows what became of him.”

He smiles. “Have you seen the female during your brief journey inside my manor?”

Not a huge house then, he calls this a manor, interesting. “No Lord, although I am certain I would recognise the assailant on sight, as I am certain ‘a he’ is the culprit.”

He rubs his chin. “You have met Dorgrav, hardly the warrior type, there are other males but perhaps we should ask one male in particular.” He glances at one of the thugs. “Zergoa please ask Lord Klar to attend me.”

I hear a swift turnabout and then the receding footsteps of one hurrying away.

“You are not concerned I will leap upon you and throttle you, now you have one less guard, Lord?”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“No, no, I seem to know you, or know of you in some way, very odd I must say and perhaps Lord Klar will be able to clarify.” He looks away from me. “Dorgrav a little food and some ale.”

“Yes, Lord.”

With the doors closing behind Dorgrav, I am alone with the Lord of this town and one of his guards, over-confidence or lax? The doors opening once again break me from my thoughts and escorting the thug is a hobgoblin youth and a goblin? Yet as the doors shut, I gravitate towards the youth, my resistance is futile, this is Lord Farmer Hob, this slip of a boy hobgoblin. How can this be? His warm eyes greet me and instead of a gentle adolescent hug his arms pin me to him, my bodyweight irrelevant compared to his raw strength above and beyond what his body should have.

“Koria Keen Eye welcome … back.”

I swallow.

Next, the goblin jumps upon my back. “Sister, is it truly you?”

“Now, both of you back off, a father should be the first to greet the return of a long-absent daughter!” Both Lord Farmer Hob and the goblin release me, and the huge hobgoblin spins me around and picks me up in a huge hug, yet his strength is nothing compared to Lord Farmer Hob …

Tears fill both of his eyes and a green warmth, spreads across his face. I feel the depth of his love as something tangible and real. I have been envious of this feeling all my life and I consider not surrendering to the truth, yet the truth will come out because she is expected. Not this time, for whatever reason, but next time. I notice the face on the goblin drop into her hands first and then Lord Farmer Hob’s youthful eyes widen.

“Lord Torngul I don’t believe you hold your daughter in your arms.”

One of the thugs knows somehow, so I must be quick.

“No Lord Torngul, I am not Koria Keen Eye, I was only Lord Farmer Hob’s wife for at most fifty heartbeats before his death. His acceptance of me, out of desperation in exchange for a sworn oath.”

His immediate release of me feels like him trying to rid himself of filth. Cold, absolute, rejection. I must console myself with his initial warmth, the absolute unconditional love of a father for his child. I wipe a tear from an eye disguising the weakness as fixing my hair as I feel and see Lord Farmer Hob approach me.

“Zoria Oath Keeper did you honour your name?”

I drop to one knee as I hear others release a deep breath.

“Yes, Lord Farmer Hob. I kept vigil on the goblin personally and then realised he would most likely outlive me, so I founded a group of devotees called the Oath Guardians. As far as I am aware they guard him still. How long has it been?”

My head rocks back and in an instant, I realise I have been punched. I roll away and a second attempt misses. The goblin or more to the point Luda, sister of Koria has assaulted me. Now that isn’t very nice of her.

“You bitch,” she screams at me and charges, her face bright green with rage I suspect. Yet she forgets I am now a Hob, and her best free blow, although stronger than I remember possible for a goblin, couldn’t knock me out …

I extend an arm quick and hit the mark. I remember this grip well; Lord Farmer Hob would always pull any into line with this move and I channel him as my fingers lock around her throat. Her flailing fists upon my arm I ignore as her blows weaken.

“Release her.”

I release Luda gently to the floor and wait until she takes several deep breaths, and then I stand. One of the thugs has her spear to hand while the other, uncertain, follows the first thug’s lead readying her spear. Torngul is at my feet scooping up his daughter. They don’t count, they all don’t matter. I look into Lord Farmer Hob’s eyes. They are harsh, judgemental, yet he hasn’t raised a fist or advanced upon me. What does he feel about my return? I will accept anything except indifference, I will not be treated that way ever again and while only a wife for the briefest of time, I kept my oath to him all my days after his death and I can only hope he values my vigil. Zeb, Koria and Luda know this as a certainty, did they tell him, or have they belittled my devotion?

“If Koria returns to me, will her reaction be similar?” he asks.

I swallow and take a deep breath. “They both believed I could have done more, yet as a wife of a few moments and the only one who didn’t birth a child to you I was nothing. Rexa though still watched me because I wasn’t disgraced like others.” I can’t help myself as I glance towards Luda. “She still needed to make sure I wasn’t a threat and to convince her I kept watch over the goblin and shared with her the secret of your blood doing little else afterwards. After years on watch, I determined I would need others to help me keep my oath and she readily agreed to my request. As an Oath Keeper of Lord Farmer Hob, my devotion was exalted and praised yet never seen as a threat to her because she could always find me, and my followers were usually the weaker goblins looking to prove their devotion. A last opportunity to serve for many.”

“You betrayed Koria, bitch,” spits out Luda.

I ignore her, my attention is upon Lord Farmer Hob.

He asks, “Did you betray Koria?”

“No Lord, she got caught to save me.”

I catch sight of Luda on the edge of my sight, her father, Zeb the Fool restrains her. While I appreciate his devotion to his children, his actions while serving the High Priestess should be questioned more than mine, but I don’t care about him, I care about Lord Farmer Hob.

“Care to explain further?”

I bow my head and then straighten. “I would prefer she explains because I would like some answers myself, yet since you request me to, I will.” I eye each of those in the room before returning to face him. “Koria realised, like many others retrieving the Warrior Hob Armour was a huge mistake. With this armour her son, your son, became invincible, conquering the rest of the valley easily. The Legend of the Warrior Hob bore down upon the tribes and the only tribe which could have resisted were decimated by their mistaken accusation. She then demanded tributes, first from your valley Lord and then the next one over. He impregnated them all in your name. She wanted to create a hobgoblin army for your son to lead to conquer valley after valley.”

I appreciate their silence, yet they have ignored the knocking on the doors. I cast my eyes towards the doors.

“Enter,” shouts Lord Torngul.

Dorgrav and several female hobgoblin servants lay out a table of food between us, needing to shift a huge table into position first. Once done they quietly exit, closing the doors behind them. Lord Torngul sits at the head of the table, furthest from the double doors, basically sitting in the same chair as before. All others in a row down one side, Luda, the two thugs who must also be Lord Farmer Hob’s wives yet haven’t announced themselves. I sit opposite the thug I feel I have the least connection to. I can only assume she is a recent addition, while Lord Farmer Hob seats himself at the other end of the table.

“Under the guise of me finding more recruits for my Oath Guardians Koria and I agree to start smuggling out the pregnant goblin concubines of your son Lord Farmer Hob.”

He holds up a hand and quickly swallows a portion of roasted flesh. “Call me Lord Klar, you will need to in public, so you should practice in private.”

“Yes, Lord … Klar. We were very successful until either someone betrayed us, or the High Priestess noticed her son’s seed was not as successful as she believed it should be. She perhaps had some of the females, he slept with, watched. They caught us in the mountain pass between the two valleys, fortunately, at the time we only had two of his concubines with us, many suddenly backed out. It seems obvious now …” I take a drink … not water, yet pleasant. “One of them must have betrayed us and told her friends. The two with us were from our valley, all the others were from the other valley.” I take another sip and curse them under my breath. “I hid amongst the ruins on one side, while Koria led the two concubines away to the other side. The two didn’t make it, the High Priestess was never forgiving of betrayal. Those archers who slew them followed Koria, she ambushed them as they gave chase. I didn’t bear witness, yet she shouted out for every kill she made. I did see her run along the top of the outer wall and in silence dive off. Never then or since have I witnessed a braver death. The High Priestess twisted the truth of course and Koria died a hero preventing the kidnapping of many of her son’s concubines, giving her life for theirs.”

“Liar,” hisses Luda.

I ignore her and rip a portion of roast meat from the boar bone in front of me.

“You hear me? I name you liar.” Her small fists thump the table and I ignore her and chew my meat thoroughly.

She stands in her chair, and I prepare myself for her leap of madness.

“Enough. Sit Luda. Answer her accusation,” requests my Lord Klar.

I place my meat upon my plate and look directly into his eyes. “If I lie, when Koria joins us, she will reveal my falsehood, so why lie?”

“We haven’t been able to recall Koria,” says Lord Torngul, or as I knew him Zeb Stone Grim the feeble unworthy of his name. I pick up my portion of meat and begin chewing again.

“We do have you though,” snipes Luda. I continue to chew.

A dagger strikes the table. The thug who doesn’t sit opposite me. I ignore her as well.

“What have you got to say for yourself? Why you and not Koria?”

I grin at my accuser and then glance at Lord Klar. “Just ask Lord Klar to keep killing female hobgoblins until she returns, I assume he throttled me last night.” I tilt my head back to display the faint bruises I suspect remain and then drop my head and return to eating.

I enjoy the silence, perhaps I should have spoken of this earlier because I grab another portion of roast meat and find myself eating alone, all the rest miraculously struck dumb it seems.

To his credit, Lord Klar recovers and speaks first, “What is your name Zoria?”

“The Stone Mason building my house, called me Briksia I believe, which reminds me I need some gold … erm, bits? To pay him to finish. I assume you have slain my husband, so it would be the least you could do for his widow.” I sniff but try as I might, I can’t add fake tears.

“You think this is a game?” I recognise Luda’s squealing voice and ignore her.

“Quiet Luda,” he says in a soft voice. Ha! He is sick of you and your insanity as am I. “You are a widow and also a citizen, so I will publicly marry you, or at least announce my engagement as I need to shake another out of a tree.”

“I live to serve you, Lord Klar. I will play whatever role you wish me to,” I reply.

“Can you play being dead?” hisses Luda.

I rest back in my chair and wipe my mouth on the sleeve of my shirt and flash Luda the biggest grin I can muster. “If you are upset because you are a goblin, I will cheerfully throttle you to send your spirit back to the void and since we are in a valley of hobgoblins, Lord Klar will eventually slay another, and you can return stronger and perhaps try to kill me to ease your guilt.”

“I have no guilt to ease … I swear.” I notice her eyes dart from Lord Klar to her father and back again.

“Let me enlighten you. Your sister not including you in our smuggling? You living longer than your sister and dying of old age? You never winning your name? You unable to convince your father to abandon the High Priestess …”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” she screams, tears rolling down her bright green cheeks in a flood.

“Oh, and I forgot, you are the weakest wife at this table …” I tilt my head to one side to avoid the mug she throws at me.

His hand slams down upon the table, while I notice her father leaning towards her to embrace her.

“I feel like going on a killing spree now until Koria returns. You exist to serve me. If you can’t honour that then I would prefer you go your own way. I don’t want to test Zoria’s theory about returning, I suspect I must die and return before my wives can because that is how it worked this time. So, we are who we are with the skills and abilities available to us, and I will have no more bickering and sniping at each other. None you hear me?”

“Yes, Lord,” I and everyone else I believe answer together.

“Luda, join the goblins tonight and find out what they did with her husband’s body. While I didn’t promise, promise I would feel bad now if I didn’t burn his body as she requested.” He drops several gold bits on the table. “Take these Zoria and pay what you need to the Mason to finish the house, we may need it in the future. If more is required that can be arranged.”

“Yes, Lord,” I reply.

“Yes, Lord,” replies Luda, her voice weak and frail, tear tracks still clear upon her cheeks. I scoff in my mind, yet my face at the table is neutral. I have this down to a fine art, my survival technique to cope with the High Priestess. Zeb Stone Grim, on the other hand, betrayed his earnt name again and again. The High Priestess worked on him for many years, but eventually, he bowed and scraped at her feet like everyone else. Milga Stone Blood recognised his self-destruction sooner than most and offered him an out with her and her daughter and he knocked her back, apparently, someone needed to stay close to the High Priestess to rein in her worse ideas … I shake my head and then realise I actually did.

“Luda will do her part.”

I look up and the dagger thug now accuses me. My first loss of absolute control and I am on the brink of stirring them up again. I can’t afford to be that wife, not when Luda has done so well at discrediting herself.

“I am certain she will. Your sister was the one who insisted you would not join the smuggling ring. She reasoned if both of you were away at the same time the High Priestess would become suspicious and given it was her idea, she didn’t feel comfortable risking you. She considered me more expendable as my Oath Guardians were well established by then.”

I just offered you an olive branch bitch, now pick it up or I will throttle you in the hope you don’t return.

“Thank … thank you Zoria, it would be like her to try and protect me, I … I should have realised as much.” She wipes her cheeks with her hands, kisses her father on his cheek and settles back into her seat.

I don’t dare glance at Lord Klar, I am hopeful though he judges me favourably.

The second thug throws down a bone with more force than is necessary. What is up her, I wonder?

“So, Lord Klug, do you intend to bed this conniving manipulative bitch any time soon?”

The silent observer. She has seen right through me, yet her bitterness is about him laying with me. Why is that so important?

“Zergoa,” his voice gentle yet strong. Why does she deserve deference? “You know I must, to ensure we are all as strong as we can be.”

“I can only hope you break her Lord as a boar rider must break his or her mount. Only one who has never known passionate love could be as bitter and twisted as her. Promise me you will wreck her such that her screams echo throughout this manor.” Her eyes lock onto mine and I am helpless to break her stare. “With your leave Lord, I will now thrash Lord Torngul’s guards into better shape instead of drawing blood here.”

With a nod from Lord Klar, she uses her legs to push back her chair, the scraping sound loud and I suspect deliberate and then marches for the door. She hesitates and sets her eyes upon the dagger thug. “Sister wife Duzsia, do you wish to join me?”

Duzsia glances at Lord Klar and he waves her on. She stands while picking up her chair and upon leaving the table sets it back under and then joins Zergoa and as one they open and storm through the double doors. The two thugs guarding in the hallway exchange glances and then close the doors. Duzsia the Relentless back from the dead. I am glad I didn’t know her name before now, otherwise, I probably would have let my water loose when she stabbed the table. The truth took many years to be revealed, yet all eventually learnt of her deed and each year after the telling grew taller and spread across the valley. The High Priestess’ demand was only a matter of time.

Lord Torngul stands. “I think we are done. Luda, return with Lord Klar. Briksia, I believe you have an errand to run, and I will advise Dorgrav that you are a consort of Lord Klar’s and will be permitted to explore the Ground Floor, the stairs and hallway leading to your room and nowhere else and I mean nowhere else otherwise you jeopardise Lord Klar’s purpose here.”

I nod towards Lord Klar, sweep up the gold bits and take my leave. I meet Dorgrav on the stairs and he turns about and escorts me out while I advise him of my position within the manor. I know he will confirm my words, but that isn’t the point, I will need to build trust and telling someone the truth, which they can confirm means they may give you the benefit of the doubt when they can’t, based purely upon goodwill. On the Ground Floor, I smirk. Zergoa and Duzsia seem to be working my two favourite guards over, unfortunately with wooden weapons. Still, the bruises should be spectacular. Shortly after I am through the gates and back onto the street, my pleasant stroll occasionally disturbed by thoughts of how and when Lord Klar will break me and what that means exactly.