It hurt!

My god, it hurt.

I rolled on the forest floor, clawing at the fire in my chest.

My last-minute swerve had thrown off the goblin's aim, changing what should have been a lethal hit into a less dangerous strike. Health armor had absorbed the worst of the damage, forcing the missile to bounce off my skin.

“You bastard!” the swordsman said, surging to his feet.

“Quiet,” the lead goblin answered. “Or you’d get a bolt of your own.” He pressed his knife to the merchant’s throat and chuckled at the spectacle.

The goblin with the crossbow, meanwhile, reloaded his weapon. In thirty seconds or so, he would be ready to fire again.

Seeing how the first shot had sent my HP into the red, a second one represented a flying tombstone.

The situation boiled down to my life or the merchant's. Rhetorical question, because I already knew what to choose. Sorry about that, stranger—

The Dread Tiger bearing the shooter yowled and sprang off the witch. The sudden movement unseated the goblin, throwing him onto the ground.

He reached for his crossbow, but then . . . against all logic . . . his Dread Tiger started humping him.

“Stop, boy,” the goblin cried, abandoning all attempts at shooting. “It’s me: Yori!”

The Dread Tiger swung its hips even more vigorously, causing the rest of us to gape in shock.

The Novice Witch rolled to her knees and pulled a wand out of her thigh highs. She summoned a tentacle whip into the second Dread Tiger. All three tumbled like bowling pins: goblin, merchant, and dread beast too.

No time to gawk.

I threw my dagger with as much force as I could muster into the lead goblin’s face. Greater Dexterity powered the weapon, siphoning more health than I expected.

The goblin recovered remarkably fast for a bugger his size. A snarl stretched across his black lips, backed by a threat. “You fucking—”

And then, the swordsman was upon him, carving up the last of his health.

No time to celebrate.

The other goblin lay pinned beneath his frenzied Dread Tiger, but he had thankfully escaped the worst outcome due to his leather loincloth. He turned around in the grass, bracing his crossbow.

The Dread Tiger collapsed in a heap, quarrel protruding from its chest.

Tears and snot cascaded down the goblin's face as he freed himself and turned to the witch . . . the source of the sudden estrus.

“You!” the goblin spat, gathering his knife. “You caused this. You made me kill Yonyon!”

He rushed at the witch, who slipped in her fright from the blood coursing down her leg. Her health meter lay empty, and her mana too, given her helplessness.

Thankfully, I’d started moving after throwing the dagger. I intercepted the charging goblin and caught his swing by the wrist. He dropped the knife, intent on catching it in his other hand . . .

[Fear Aura].

The goblin faltered. Only for a half-second, but still more than enough.

I caught the falling knife in my free hand and decapitated him in one clean stroke. The little bugger had lost some HP to the Dread Tiger’s assault, and . . . what the fuck?. . . Was he sporting a boner?

Dear god. That image would never go away.

An anguished cry signified the end of the last Dread Tiger, which fell under the combined blows of the swordsman and the merchant. The latter had managed to find his nerve, an impressive enough feat that I forgave him for doing so with my dagger.

The two men ran toward the bleeding witch, who lay on the ground, cradling her side.

“Easy breaths, Nicola,” the swordsman said, tossing his greatsword aside to retrieve a health potion from his inventory.

“You saved us!” the merchant said as she emptied the bottle. “That was an awesome bit of play at a point where everything seemed lost!”

I coughed into my palm, trying—and failing—not to look affronted.

“Of course,” the merchant pivoted, “all of that wouldn’t have been possible without your timely intervention.” He was a smooth talker, this one. “Assassin, right? I didn’t think that class would be as effective out here in the wild.”

“We don’t know if he’s a friend, Isaac,” the swordsman said, still focused on the witch.

“Nonsense,” Isaac rebutted, flipping my dagger in one hand. “He wouldn’t have helped us otherwise.”

My eyebrows twitched as he played around with Nana’s heirloom. Any moment now, and I’d tackle him to the ground.

“Why’s a Dark Elf revealing himself to us anyway?” the swordsman asked. “Their people are as reclusive as they come.”

“Why’s a human speaking as if I’m not here,” I answered. “Shouldn’t he know to be polite?”

The swordsman blinked, then raised his eyes to meet mine. “I apologize. It’s been a long day.”

I offered a noncommittal grunt and glared at Isaac.

The merchant flushed and returned my knife. Having red eyes made glares three times more effective, it seemed.

“Ben,” the swordsman said, extending his hand.

“Damien.”

We shook like two kings that had acknowledged the other. Rainbows extended in the background.

“Thanks for the rescue,” the novice witch—Nicola—said, now that her wounds had knitted and color had returned to her face. “Other elves would have left us to our fate.”

Other elves were not former humans, I wanted to say. But, who cared about that? Vizhima was quickly becoming my reality. The sooner I made my peace with that, the better.

Isaac inspected my face. “A Dark Elf, huh? And, a good fighter too. I’d heard about a Dark Elf clan living in Dreadwood, but I’ve never done dealings with your people except by proxy.” He stroked his beard. “Can I interest you with an offer? We are about two days away from the city of Skeelie. How would you like to join my guard in exchange for three silver?”

“Don’t cheat him, Isaac,” Ben growled. “He deserves a fair wage despite his roots.”

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

“I have no intention of cheating him,” Isaac said, adopting an affronted tone. He glanced back at me. “Five silver, then. Because of Hardass over there. What say you?”

“Ten or nothing,” Ben snapped. “He saved our lives. You can pay that much in gratitude.”

Isaac balled his fists. “If you both had done your jobs properly, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He cleared his throat before the swordsman could respond and turned back to me. “Look, Damien, I still need to be able to turn a profit, or else, this venture would have been for naught.”

“Ten or noth—”

“Seven,” Isaac said, overriding the swordsman. “How does that sound, Damien? Guard us for the remainder of our journey through Dreadwood and become the proud owner of seven silver pieces.”

I looked between the two men. Five, ten, fifteen . . . None of those values meant anything to me. For all I knew, both men had staged the argument to get me to accept a pittance.

The money didn’t matter, of course. All four of us were headed in the same direction, though they didn’t need to know that. Any information I extracted from them about the broader world could also serve me better than money.

Still, I hated being cheated . . .

“Thirty silver,” I said.

Isaac’s expression fell. “My good sir. There’s no way I can pay that much.”

“Twenty, then. And, I’d like three health potions.”

“Ten pieces of silver with one health potion.”

“Twenty with two.”

Isaac narrowed his eyes. “A guard job for that much? You aren’t even Silver-ranked.”

“A guard job plus a thank you for saving your life,” I added with a shrug. “What need would you have had for money anyway if I didn’t appear? The goblins would have looted your corpse.”

Isaac floundered. “Well, that is . . .”

“He’s got you there, Isaac,” Ben said with some amusement. “Who would have thought that a forester could out-haggle a merchant of the guild.”

Isaac spluttered. “Very well, elf. You’d get your payment upon completion of the job.”

“Fifteen now,” I pressed. “The rest later.”

“Don’t push it,” Isaac said.

“He’s right,” Ben added. “We have no guarantee that you won’t give us the slip in the middle of the night.”

“Then, half,” I conceded. “You can consider that payment for saving your life. I’m also of high standing back in the village. If we conclude this arrangement on good terms, it might open inroads to further business in the future.”

Isaac returned to stroking his beard, though he only pretended to hesitate. His eyes had glinted upon the mention of business.

“Deal,” he said, and then he rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry for haggling. I can’t help it, not when it comes with the class.”

A specialist, then . . .“No offense taken,” I said, accepting the payment.

I tossed the Lesser health potion into my inventory but kept the coins on hand for a closer look. They bore the portraiture of some ruler on the obverse, who was probably Bargherian, given the inscription on the reverse.

Should I bite the coins? I had no way of confirming their authenticity. Oh, well.

“Now that you boys are done,” Nicola said, recovering her staff. “I propose we put some distance between this place and us. If the goblins have reinforcements, we don’t want to meet them.”

My eyes bulged as I took in her outfit before snapping back to her face. “Y-yeah. You’re right.”

Nicola smirked.

There was no way her robes were approved for combat. I'd seen strippers perform with more covering than she had on.

Not that I'd ever visited a strip club or anything, to be honest. And, I didn't get that knowledge from adult videos either, okay?

Ben clasped my shoulder in a strong grip. “That was quite the scary situation you pulled us out of. If someone had listened to me and chosen not to deviate from the path, we wouldn’t have entered this mess.” He shot the merchant a glare, who in turn mumbled something about secret pathways. “I doubt you’d want to visit the city after your job is over, but I owe you a few drinks regardless.”

I frowned at his offer. “Why wouldn’t I want to?”

All three humans exchanged surprised glances.

Nicola spoke first. “You’re not worried about the dangers of wandering into Bargheria? I thought Dreadwood elves loathed the Princedom on principle.”

“They don’t,” Isaac said with a snort. “Not really. At least, not while they need our grain and cloth.”

“I have no problems with humans,” I said, even though the word sounded wrong in my ears as used to describe others but me. “It’s the humans who should watch their behavior around me.”

Ben patted my shoulder. “We’ll give it a few days and see if you still think like that.”

We continued our journey, after righting the carriage and retrieving the donkey. Isaac walked alongside Ben in the forefront, leaving Nicola and me to bring up the rear.

I’d given up on pretending to look her in the face whenever we talked, so I'd settled on keeping my eyes in front of me. It left me with a view of the ass—not the kind Nicola sported—but, better to look at donkeys than embarrass myself.

“So . . . the tiger,” I said, broaching a topic that demanded my curiosity. “What did you do to it?”

Nicola chuckled—a sweet, musical sound. “Oh, I threw it into a frenzy. I heightened its arousal for the most familiar object in its proximity.”

“An affinity, then?” I scratched my hair. “Lust?”

“Pleasure,” Nicola corrected. “Mine is the affinity of Pleasure. Not exactly the most popular outside of special uses. But, I’ve done fine with it regardless.”

“Is that why you dress in skimpy clothing?”

Nicola evaded my gaze, a more demure behavior than her outfit suggested. I’d initially resolved to avoid glancing her way, but goddammit, even her eyes looked alluring. They glowed golden in her face, a liquid brown infused with sunlight.

“Yes,” Nicola said, “but not entirely. I’m also an acolyte of the Cult of Carnality. Immodesty is aggressively encouraged among our members.”

The Cult of Carnality? That sounded like a police raid waiting to happen. “So, err, how does that work?”

“It just does.”

Smart ass . . . no, Damien! Don’t look at her ass!

“Adherents of the cult’s teachings,” Nicola continued, “exalt Pleasure as the greatest affinity of all. Male and female acolytes specialize in order to render services and help the lost. You should visit the temple in Skeelie if you get the chance. It sees high patronage for a reason.”

Did she just invite me to a brothel?

"What about your partner?" I asked. "What's his affinity about?"

Nicola wrinkled her nose. "I didn't think there was a soul alive who would be unable to recognize Wrath on first glance."

Ah. So, anger fueled the flames, so to speak, while Pleasure evoked lust and tentacles. Compassion controlled light and brightness. And, I was pretty sure Mavari's wind powers had something to do with laughter.

There were supposedly twenty-four affinities, all with their strengths and weaknesses. And, I'd somehow managed to snag a taboo.

"Yes?" Nicola said.

"Yes, what?" I asked.

"Go on, then. You asked about my affinity, so it's only fair to share yours."

“I’m, err, not comfortable answering that question.”

I ignored her narrowed eyes in favor of a change of topic. I couldn’t keep my secrets for long, but I didn’t want to lose my new acquaintances thirty minutes after I’d met them. “What kind of trade does a city dweller hope to find in Dreadwood anyway?”

“The best kind,” Isaac called out. “You can’t expect mere villages to survive without industry.”

“So, you travel through Dreadwood hawking your wares to the elves?”

“Via which roads?” Isaac snorted. “We simply trade with the Wood King. He maintains an outpost a few miles away from here. We do business with his representative, and he in turn does business with the clans.”

“You’ve never met him in person?”

“Oh, please, I’d rather not. No one knows the location of his domain. Not from our city anyway. And, Dreadwood gives me the creeps. If it weren’t for the guild, I wouldn’t have taken this job.”

“Dreadwood’s not that bad,” I argued, feeling a tad defensive about my hometown.

“Tell that to the goblins. What’s up with them, anyway? None of our reports mentioned anything about their sighting.”

“It’s a recent development.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ben interjected from his spot at the lead. “Because, the last time goblins roamed the forest, the Princedom had to establish a leaguer. And, that was only because they failed to do so the time before that, leaving goblins to raze the cities.”

Isaac visibly winced. “Nothing good follows the gathering of a goblin horde. But, Bargheria will only act to protect its own. You elves must move fast enough to nip this problem in the bud. If it deteriorates into open war, the losses would be staggering.”

An involuntary shudder seized my shoulders. If the humans in their faraway cities were scared of the goblins, what did that say about Harkonean trying to stem the tide on their lonesome?

“What’s the largest force the goblins can muster?” I asked, already dreading the answer.

“Going by the old stories?” Nicola said. “Tens of thousands. And, if the rumors are to be believed, the wild god is partial to their cause. He won’t lift a finger against them as long as they don’t pursue the destruction of the forest. The goblins are also said to revere him.”

There it was again. That name: the wild god. The closest thing Dreadwood had to a bogeyman.

Here’s to hoping we never crossed paths.