---LORD KLAR POV
The distraction of observing the large orange molten circle of the sun setting over the Clan Head Zinmog’s shoulder encourages me to tune out while listening to his complaints, yet his whining finds a way.
“They insisted I waste my best grain for the planting. Threaten to report me to Lord Torngul if I didn’t. Why did you leave them with me? They said they acted with your authority. Is that true? I erred on the side of caution and believed them, but is that true? Now the Clan’s grain store has an imbalance. Not enough good grain and too much poor grain and too many mouths to feed. The situation is impossible.” His finger presses into my shoulder and I set my eyes upon the affront. He reclaims the digit immediately. “You need to fix this, Lord Klar, you need to fix this now!”
Again, the solution points to reducing the number of mouths to feed. Do I want more lives to be responsible for? As I open my mouth to reply, the answer, like with Clan Beastbane, seems to be yes.
“I will purchase goblin slaves from you.” His mouth drops open, and I think I have caught him off guard. “Fewer mouths to feed and with the money, although I may pay for them with grain, either way, you will eat well and will need fewer guards so those former guards can work the fields and earn their food.”
He closes his mouth slowly but adds thought lines to his forehead. “How many goblins do you want?”
“How many like Nudia?”
“That surly, obstinate bunch, too many. They don’t die out like the others.”
“That is good. They will need to work or starve.”
He cackles. “You are going to get them to work where Clan Hungry has never been able to make them do more than they wish? Take them all. Leave us the more pliable ones. They do the same amount of work without the attitude.”
“Price?”
A sly smile crosses his lips. “Replace the grain your wives forced us to plant, and I believe both of us will win.”
I don’t know if this is a good deal, because I don’t know how many slaves I am buying. Annoying, although Nudia wouldn’t want anything less than her entire tribe, so I don’t have a choice. “Done, I think. I will need to check that I can either purchase replacement grain or pay you in coins or a mix of both. Although I ask for one concession.”
“And that is?” he asks.
“If the crop yields more than is typical for your farm, the extra or additional yield counts as part of my payment.”
“If by some miracle it does, then, yes, I agree. As long as you pay. Coin or food, including excess yield, or both. I need to tell my Clan we eat well again in the following months.”
I rub my chin. “Can I pay in monthly deliveries? That way I won’t drive up prices with my requirements and you won’t need to store a year’s worth of grain and possibly lose some to pests.”
He holds out his hand and we shake. As simple as that and I gain responsibility for more lives…
---
Zoria and Izga walk ahead towards our cottage while I place a gentle hand on Nudia’s shoulder to slow her. “How many in your tribe?”
She doesn’t turn to face me. “Master… many more than Clan Hungry knows about. They stay hidden in the brush and light forest on the edges of the farmed land, yet we rotate them so they can live amongst the rest of us from time to time.”
“How many?”
Her head falls. “The number isn’t exact…”
“How many?”
“Maybe four hundred?” she says, her voice low. I drag her head about with my finger under her chin. Her eyes dart about.
Why did I agree with this? This begs another question, the answer of which I am certain will horrify me, especially when I consider the birthing yet to yield its bounty. “How many did I seed that night?”
“Master, I don’t want to answer. You may get upset.”
Upset? Did my voice betray me? Well, let me remove all doubt then. I growl and grab her shoulders.
“Master, you are hurting your favourite Nudia…”
“Tell me.”
“One hundred and…” Her eyes try to escape mine, so my hands skip from her shoulders to grab her head. “Seventy, possibly a few more. Maybe all didn’t hurry to join in through the night.”
I release her head and try to do a calculation in my head. Male plus female and one or two children, at least twenty percent too old, thirty percent too young. I estimate one hundred mature females or thereabouts, so the number doesn’t make sense. “How can so many females be at maturity out of four hundred?”
“We don’t need that many males, master.” She takes a step back and I growl. “As soon as they are mature, they are trained to fight, and march out of this valley as merchant guards or mercenary bands or occasionally spies. The survivors report back every few years. You must understand you seeded mothers and their daughters that night. The entire clan has been waiting for such a miracle. This valley.” She spits on the ground. “If our forebears only knew of their loathing of goblins beforehand, but Hobgoblin Town is deep within the valley, too far for a migrating tribe to outrun pursuers once so far within, so we became slaves and bided our time, maintaining our visible numbers, sending away our males and hiding our growing numbers.”
I recalculate, one male to three females, leave too old and too young as they are. My estimate becomes one hundred and fifty females, still short. The ratio can’t be one male to four females? No, more like one male to seven females… “You must continue as you have in the past. When I return with the land grant, you will need to parade a balance of males, females, and children, but at most, two hundred and fifty because that is what Clan Hungry could believe your numbers to be.”
“Yes master, will we do as you say and prepare for your return.”
My inner Hob chuckles and salivates. Instead of walking away, he pushes me to kiss her forehead. I receive a pout in response. Moments before I was throttling her, she wasn’t even going to receive a kiss! What did she expect?
I jog after Zoria and Izga and meet them outside of our designated cottage. Zoria on one boar and Izga on the other.
“I asked Zoria to teach me to ride husband. This common hobgoblin wishes to make herself more useful, so she isn’t worthless.”
I refrain from commenting and instead mount her riding beast. I push her slim frame forward in the saddle when I do. She leans back, resting against my chest, snuggling.
“Lean forward and release the reins, wife.”
Her body tenses and I sense she wants to speak. Protest? Instead, her shoulders slump forward and she makes a mediocre effort to shuffle her hips forward. I dig my hands under her firm skinny bottom and toss, turn her. As she lifts off the saddle, I grab her hips and draw her back into the saddle, now facing me, her legs dangling over my thighs.
Her coy eyes find mine, and I reward her with a warm smile. “You need to do three things while we journey back.”
“Anything, husband, I am prepared to do anything to prove my worth…”
“Work out how to release my pecker. Expose your loins. Last, but not least, urge your nanorobots to refine your blood to make Relentless the dominant linage and then the sole linage, once I gift you seed on the journey home.”
Her arms wrap around my shoulders, and she buries her face in my neck. Shortly after, warm tears run down my chest.
“Lord Klar!”
I glance over Izga’s shoulder, spotting the Clan Head’s daughter.
“Yes, no name Clan Head’s daughter?”
“Will you be returning? Ever?” She advances towards the boar, her eyes glancing at the beast until she grasps my leg and sighs in relief.
To the top of her head, I say, “I must conclude the purchase of the slaves. Beyond that, I have no plans to.”
She looks up with pleading eyes, “My name is Rozmoga, after my father, but most of the Clan call me Roza and when you return, I ask you to ask my father for me. I wish to be your wife as Zoria and Izga are… Please?”
Izga’s body twitches minutely and I am certain Zoria internally screams.
I pat her hand and then lift her light green appendage from my thigh. “I have other wives, too many other wives who are already feeling neglected. You would be my wife in name only. There would be no promise of time together, sharing joys and celebrating our lives. You deserve better than what I can give.”
She withdraws her hand from mine, her eyes filling with moisture as she does. “You don’t want me then? Am I too ugly? I promise to be a dutiful wife. Obey your every command.”
I lean towards her from the saddle. “None of that. Find yourself a partner who will cherish your qualities and can be with you always. You deserve nothing less.”
Nudging the boar with my knees, the beast peels away from the daughter of Clan Head Zinmog, who stares at my leaving. My last parting look at her fills with nothing else except her tears rolling down her cheeks. I reach beyond Izga for the reins and encourage the beast into a trot. Zoria reins her boar in to match my pace and we ride side by side for a time in silence.
A warm set of lips caress and then kiss my neck while a set of hands work ferociously at the leather lacing binding my trousers around my waist…
---
“Izga, please take both beasts and unsaddle them after you lead them to water. Don’t return to us. We will find you.”
“Yes, husband.” She spares a glance for Zoria, who bites her bottom lip. I suspect with that reaction; Zoria knows what we are going to speak about.
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I wait until I believe Izga is out of earshot and then face Zoria, who wilts under my gaze.
“When were you going to tell me you gave birth to a hobgoblin son and survived?” My attempt to control my emotion is everdently unsuccessful as she trembles and takes a step back. To her credit, she maintains eye contact.
“In time, Lord. My story is complicated. I need Koria here as much, if not more than Luda to fully explain my actions and be believed. You forget I am the wife who never was, the mother who never could be, yet trusted with two secrets wrung from my soul by utterances from your dying lips.” She drops her head. “I never thought to see you again, our relationship the briefest of any before and since I would guess.”
“Who is the father?”
Her lidded eyes lookup. She shakes her head from side to side, jaw shut tight.
“I will not ask again,” I growl.
She lifts her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Klugrath.”
His name hits me like a spacecraft. My son? Why would he? What twist is this in her tale?
“Explain.” I can only articulate a single word. More words are beyond me as my heart races.
She wipes her tears away with the back of her hands. “The three daughters were pleading with him, trying to guilt him to avenge Koria. The idea was for him to slaughter as many of the goblin tribesmen as possible. This was my plan, though, not theirs. They were to forewarn the three tribes and, as one, draw him into a trap. I hoped that his overconfidence would lead him to his death. He visited me earlier in the day they left with him. I was shocked, thinking he somehow knew I sent the three daughters to him, and they had let slip the details of the trap, but he didn’t. He pleaded with me to escort the three daughters, protect them and their goblin sons, while he slaughtered to avenge Koria Keen Eye.”
“When did they have sons, and to whom?”
“All in good time, husband. Your three daughters devised their own plan, discarding mine. They didn’t think Klugrath could be lured away from Head Village without him asking his mother first. Koria’s daughter pleaded to the point of throwing herself at his feet, speaking to his ego and with him recently turned eighteen, she exploited his need to prove himself.”
“The old goblin crone didn’t mention death, though…”
“No. Your three daughters contacted the elders of the three tribes like they were supposed to. Yet instead of slaughter, they tempted Klugrath into a lust haze. Son like father, so he would seed as many female goblins as possible to breed stronger goblins for the battles to come. At the time, no one understood how hobgoblins came into being. All thought each valley had a limit and they would simply walk in after a while to replace the vanquished. None did. After Klugrath’s sixteenth birthday, much changed.”
She crosses her legs and squats down on the grass. Leaning over, she rips a length of grass and begins folding the length over and around.
“Why did you stop talking?”
She looks up. “This is the part where you do or don’t believe me. Where, if present, Koria could vouch for what I tell you. Some parts are, well, unbelievable.”
“You are the Oath Keeper, and I must believe you would not break your naming.”
“Thank you, husband, but I suggest you sit as well.”
I cross my legs to mirror her and lay my hands on her knees. “Continue.”
“Rexa falls pregnant.” My hands squeeze her knees and when she winces, I release my grip. “Zeb Stone Grim spread the rumour that Klugrath was the father. While Rexa is conveniently in seclusion, resting while pregnant, someone attacks and robs Zeb Stone Grim while walking along a street in Head Village after being summoned by Klugrath. It was the first robbery in sixteen years. The reason the rumour had any strength was because Klugrath seeded many. Bekto, Zuxa and Lazsia are three and they birthed female hobgoblin babes and died in childbirth because a selfish Rexa wouldn’t reveal the secret of your blood and prevented me from intervening. Klugrath also seeded the daughters of Duzsia, Koria and Luda, yet they were smart and starved themselves and gave birth to goblin sons.”
I lean forward, our faces a hand width apart. “The sons they kept with them when they went with Klugrath into the Southern Valley, his sons?”
“Yes, husband. But don’t you see? They had already laid with him. The legend suggests he seeded them against their will.”
“Where they smart, or did their mentor give them certain advice?”
Her face flushed dark green. “I may have told them and suggested that only with your blood did Rexa survive giving birth to Klugrath, although I left out the part where… where I assisted her.”
My lungs in an instant empty of breath, and I can’t draw any in. A horrific moment of disbelief catches my mind. I can’t think. Then I feel a slap on my face. I blink and see Zoria’s tear-filled eyes. “You need to understand. You left me with a task, and you acknowledged all your wives before your death, and they all were about to give birth. I needed someone who owed me something and Rexa’s body was being torn apart… I didn’t think she would be the bitch she became. Please, husband, I beg mercy. If I would have known, I would have done nothing…”
My mind is back, yet breathing is still difficult. Except for Zoria Oath Keeper’s intervention, we could have avoided this future. My mind wonders about the possible alternative future.
Her lips press on mine and then her face withdraws. “Within the boundaries, Rexa set against me, I tried to make amends every single day afterwards. Every single day.”
“You were the keeper of my blood. I assumed you would share it equally amongst my wives, yet although Rexa hated Jotor, he taught her well in conniving and manipulation. Rexa, being the only one of my wives to have a Hob babe, would have confirmed her status as First Wife. I am certain she wouldn’t let that power slip through her hands.” As much as I regret it, can I blame her?
She releases a long breath. “You understand? You… you… forgive me?”
“Does anyone else know you saved Rexa during childbirth?”
“There was Rora, Head Goblin of Childbirth, and a couple of her helpers, but they, erm, disappeared. Rexa demanded as First Wife, all the Ten Spears swear loyalty to her. Some refused, but after the birth of the male Hob and her survival, none did and those first few who swore before the birth became her most trusted, especially the Ten Spears led by Keja, the slayer of Koria. She didn’t live long to celebrate. I made certain of that.”
Her grim grinding words spoke of revenge taken. “How… how did Koria die?”
“Bravely. But that is her story to tell, not mine, husband, and we are already way off track. Poor Izga will wonder what has become of us.”
“Yes. Please continue.”
“Just one last thing, don’t feel your wives let you down by not fighting to resist Rexa. She ensured they wouldn’t. Her Ten Spears, the ‘Keepers of the Peace’ were commanded to take all your children from their mothers for safekeeping, so they could be cared for together with baby Klugrath.”
“Bitch! So, Duzsia, Koria, Luda, all of them?”
“She broke your wives when she took their children, and each tried to cope in their own way. Talk to them who have returned to you. Ask them to tell you their sad story. I don’t know much as Rexa made certain I adhered to my oath and, in isolation, kept watch over the crippled goblin.”
I feel moisture gather in my eyes and murmur, “I will, I promise.”
She holds my hands. “Shall we continue?”
I take a deep breath and nod. My inner Hob growls. He never was a fan of expressing feelings.
“The three daughters gathered the goblin maids from the three tribes in the village behind the Southern Valley pass. When Klugrath sauntered in, they practically threw themselves at him and he discovered your special power, lust haze. The three daughters willingly took part as well because, unknown to me, they had a plan. They assumed their mentor would share if asked, your blood with them to ensure they would survive birthing a hobgoblin babe. They wanted revenge on Rexa for what she did to their mothers, they knew no goblin could get that revenge while Klugrath protected her and shortly Rexa would birth another. Unknown then, her second was also her last as she was nearing forty years, near the end of life for a goblin, not prime of life to fall pregnant, yet your blood otherwise kept her alive.”
“The three daughters took their three goblin sons, their three hobgoblin sons they survived giving birth to, I assume, male hobgoblins, and began their lineages?”
“Yes. They hid away in the Southern Valley until Rexa and Klugrath invaded, but that’s another story. Mine continues simply. Klugrath raped me. He took me last, his sanity returning enough for him to gloat. ‘He would finish what his father never started…’ I believed his sole intention, regardless of what occurred in the valley, the slaughter of goblins or seeding of goblins was always to take me and the true reason he agreed to the three daughter’s plan. Something which he could never do while I remained within the walls of Head Village. I was a wife his father never touched.”
I embrace her and she is silent. No sobbing, not even crying. I separate us. “You don’t need my comfort?”
She bites her bottom lip. “I have already cried a river of tears over what happened. He deserves no more from me. We both believed that given my age nothing would grow, he would have his conquest and that would be all.”
I shake my head. There is still an impossibility. “But how did you, a tribal goblin, give birth to a hobgoblin son?”
She sniffs while hitching her chest. “It can only be because of your blood. As I said, I thought myself too old to become pregnant, thinking while Klugrath seeded me, his efforts would be in vain. Yet your blood, which I had been sipping daily, like Rexa, matured his seed, making up for the fact I didn’t have hobgoblin heritage, even ignoring my age, same as Rexa, to give me a hobgoblin babe. I hid away in my Order’s tower, keeping company with the broken goblin. My Order kept my secret and when I survived the birth, they thought me blessed beyond reason. When I asked them to secret my child out of the valley, too many volunteered and I had to make them draw lots. I weaned my son at six months and then two of my order secreted him out of the valley using the pass to the Southern Valley. The goblin tribes there still remembered me from Klugrath’s seeding of their females. From there, I know no more, until when I learnt he founded his lineage, a joy, a dream come true because it meant he reached adulthood. The only sad part is he never saw his mother again.”
This time she does burst into tears, and I embrace her. There is still one part, which I decide not to tell her about. The nanorobots require influence. The will of the host to direct them to purpose otherwise, they simply ‘carry on’ in a general host well-being way. Deep down, Zoria willed for a hobgoblin son, in her dreams the moment after my death, while saving Rexa when she gave birth to Klugrath, while pregnant and alone in the tower or perhaps during her rape; to reap some compensation from his callous assault. More than likely, all of them. To finally be equal to my other wives.
We hear the snorting of the boars and while she tries to free herself; I refuse to release her. Izga must have decided we had had enough time.
I suspect Zoria doesn’t truly understand her achievement. Because the impossibility of a tribal goblin giving birth to a hobgoblin would require not only steel-eye determination but also wishing for the impossible, Zoria needed to believe the birth of a hobgoblin son would heal her deep regret. Zoria, the tribal goblin, couldn’t birth any hobgoblin child, fortunately for her, the nanorobots heard her and because of the saturation of them within her body could answer. For Rexa, the nanorobots performed the lesser task of defeating her age, although only once. Maybe she lacked belief in the years after.
Izga hangs back at a distance, wanting to return, yet knowing from my embrace of Zoria that we aren’t yet ready.
“We must return to Lord Torngul so I can continue with what fate has decreed, no matter my objection,” I say into her neck. I note her goosebumps. Did my breath tickle her neck?
She shakes playfully, a deep green blush rises on her face. “Lord Klar,” she purrs.
I hold her at arms’ length. “I am sorry…”
She returns an adoring smile as her hand caresses my cheek. “You have granted me another life, a chance to prove my loyalty and worth.” Her blush spreads to her neck. “A chance for loving intimacy…”
I embrace and release her as I climb to my feet. She looks up through eyes of devotion and I offer my hand. “It is time then,” I say.
---
With relief, we pass through the outskirts of Hobgoblin Town. Izga, being diligent, has milked my seed for the entire journey and while I suggested she turn around in the saddle, to be less obvious, she declined. Her hands and lips continue in their efforts to entice and restore my pecker to vigour, yet I am not quite the voyeur she thinks I am, and once foot traffic surrounds us and takes an interest, my lust retreats.
The arena is empty; the stage is no more. Did the tournament conclude in our absence? If so, it will mean several fresh faces to meet within the manor. First, though, we need to present ourselves at the north gate, which we amble our beasts towards.
A dust cloud closes in upon us fast, on an interception course, in fact. Zoria and I exchange glances and use our knees to halt our beasts. Izga’s head turns right and then left to sight the same dust cloud.
“A boar rider, several, in fact,” I say.
As they slow, I recognise the riders. Family Klugak. Father, son, and several daughters, although one, fixes her eyes upon me. With the events of the last few days, I refuse to imagine what this means. Fate will reveal to me whatever this twist is, I am certain.
“Hail Lord Klar, well met,” Klugak says with deference while reining in his beast. I note his entire family does likewise with competent skill.
Since when did I earn his respect? “Well met, Klugak. I hope Lord Torngul and Hobgoblin Town are both in order and you don’t rush to intercept me on some errand of doom?” The polite chuckle I try to generate doesn’t escape my lack of enthusiasm…
He smiles. A fawning smile? “No, all is well. Lord Torngul has his honour guard, and the town basks in his wise rule.” I notice Klaria trying to edge her beast forward, yet her sisters hamper her efforts. Defeating her because of numbers.
“Then why meet me in the middle of the street?”
“I would ask a boon before you meet Lord Torngul.”
I note he schools his eyes to stay on me, his head trying to shift to look elsewhere, yet his neck muscles lock up, to prevent the lapse.
“A boon?” I embrace Izga so I can look past her body with ease and examine Klugak. He shifts in his saddle—could be something, could be nothing.
“I would offer you Klaria, my eldest daughter in marriage, Lord Klar. You have had quite the effect upon her. Talks of nothing else since you took her lips…” He coughs a father’s cough. Embarrassment? “Her family would, of course, offer a substantial gift of goods and coin to ensure you will maintain her in the manner she is accustomed to.”