image [https://i.imgur.com/9HUGOpz.jpg]
After snatching a clean piece of vellum, a sponge, and an ink quill, I gestured toward Greenie’s desk. “Alright, old buddy—I finally have time to talk. We’ll have to take this to the orrery. Bring your measuring tools and maybe your slide rule.”
Concerned, Greenie studied my face before doing so. Perhaps he searched for jests or an explanation, but after seeing my seriousness, he gathered his drafting instruments. Moving to the orrery barely took a minute, as it stood near the manor.
I summoned Beaker, who promptly blasted a protesting screech when he saw our destination. My pet and I had spent the previous night in the building, and he didn’t want to return. The sound of his beating wings signaled he flew elsewhere since orreries held nothing of interest for young griffons.
I checked to see if the giant turquoise globe looked secure whenever I entered the building. Walking beneath the looming object always made me nervous. Imperceptibly slow lunar rings drifting across the sphere caused the only movement in the chamber. Greenie and I counted as its only visitors. It usually stood empty, like a temple—a tranquil setting for reflection.
Pretty as it was, the globe offered little utility. Instead, I led the goblin to the round table map beneath it. I directed the goblin’s attention to the markings I had made the night before, the marks that unraveled my relic discoveries.
I explained how taking the worm’s cylinders deactivated an ancient rune that suppressed the relics. Destroying the rune allowed the relics to contact potential hosts. I cringed in admitting that Fabulosa and I disturbed the continent’s continuity, but the goblin showed no signs of reproach.
Hawkhurst’s chamberlain hadn’t gasped or marveled at my revelations about the continent’s origin. After a moment of thought, he challenged my theory. “It seems the relic in the east should have called to you or Governor Charitybelle instead of Thaxter. You two are adventurers, and he, a commander preoccupied with orc raids.”
“That probably has something to do with our inability to dream. Fab, C-Belle, and I are contestants in a last-person-standing contest….” I didn’t finish my sentence. Explaining players and NPCs seemed too vast a topic, and it stood beside the point. “Anyway, we don’t dream, so I figure relics can’t affect us.”
Greenie examined my markings beneath the illusionary terrain. The table map hadn’t moved or resized since the early morning, so the measurements matched the phantom geography. “Governor, why is the map so small? You could have increased the map’s resolution by using the entire table.”
I grunted. “Beaker stood on the table, keeping me company. I didn’t have the heart to push him off.”
“Plotting points may give us a quick estimate of the other relics’ whereabouts, but mathematics can yield the precise coordinates.”
I fist-pumped in triumph. I specialized in letting other people do the math. “How long will it take?”
The goblin walked to the bottom of the spiral stairs, sat down, and started writing on his vellum. “Please, remind me—what were the two coordinates of the two relics?”
I gave him the coordinates. The locations rested at -65, -23 and 65, -23.
Greenie hunched over to the task. “Since 360 degrees divides into five 72-degree arcs and each segment of the pentagon is the same length, 68.9 miles. Plotting the endpoints is a simple matter.”
It took me longer to relate my theory than Greenie to work the geometry. Soon, he offered me the vellum listing the five coordinates. I’d never used math to solve a practical problem before. Technically, I wasn’t doing equations, but seeing geometry applied to anything outside blueprints intrigued me.
Using a sponge and canteen water, I wiped my previous markings and expanded the map to the table’s breadth. Greenie entered the coordinates into the table map’s controls.
The coordinates closely matched the locations I marked using a compass. One relic rested underwater at the southern tip of Otter Lake, and another remained deep in orc territory. The closest coordinate, -40, 56, awaited inside goblin country. While Greenie plugged in the numbers, I studied his expression. “Is Rezan nearby?”
“If our understanding of the relic’s influence is correct, my brother will indeed be its nearest sovereign. This might explain why we haven’t seen patrols from the Bluepeaks. Only delirium would deter Rezan from hunting me down.” The goblin looked across the table to the western side of the map. “I fear the relic in orc territory is beyond our grasp. We must assume it will eventually fall into the emperor’s hands.”
“Is there a chance someone already found a relic?”
“Doubtful. The news of goblin raids would have reached us by mail—and a relic bearer would turn the tide of war, so reports of elf and orc hostilities are hopeful signs that no one has uncovered one.”
“What about the one in Otter Lake?”
“It’s near the southern tip. If the lizardfolk found it, a demon wouldn’t content itself with muddy huts and remote swamps. Human settlements pepper the southern continent. The Highwall mountains are porous, despite the name. A relic bearer in the interior has valleys and passes to access larger populations.”
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The relic in Otter Lake worried me the most. In it, the anomalocaris mummy would be at home. With the water pressure’s natural buoyancy, I could imagine it pushing off the sarcophagus lid. Fighting a free-roaming, high-level aquatic relic-bearer underwater appealed to me less than a suicide mission into orc territory. By saving it for last, Fabulosa and I might level up and discover stronger powers to defeat such a foe.
“If Fab and I were to go north, what would we need?”
Greenie scrolled the map to the -40, 56 coordinate and zoomed to its most detailed setting.
“You’ll need your Dark Room because this coordinate lies inside the southern extent of goblin territory. You’ll also need to know the goblin language. Goblins fragment into competing societies like how the orcs used to be. Rezan is savvy enough to play off local warlords against one another. He’ll have enemies, and perhaps you’ll need to manipulate them. Goblin language varies from mountain to mountain, but I could help you learn the dialects.”
“No problem there. My high research rank should help me pick it up.”
“I’m afraid languages count as another skill. Your research expertise will be of no assistance.”
“At least Applied Knowledge will help me learn fast. Can you prepare a crash course in Goblin? The sooner I can start, the sooner I can leave.”
“I’ll draw up a lesson for tomorrow.”
“I only need to speak it. Reading and writing can wait.”
“That is just as well. Regional politics prevents the standardization of goblin glyphs. It would take too long to familiarize yourself with every derivation. That’s one reason illiteracy is so widespread in my people.”
“How long will it take to learn the basics?”
The goblin looked uncomfortable. “I’m afraid Goblin is extremely difficult for nonnatives. You humans enjoy rules for grammar. Goblins have no such thing.”
I crossed my arms with a smirk. “I wouldn’t exactly say I’ve enjoyed learning grammar.”
Greenie entirely missed my joke. “What I mean to say is that learning involves sheer memorization. We have different ways to express plurals, possessives, and pronouns.”
I grunted noncommittally.
“For instance, the word for ‘surrender’ is also the same for ‘attack.’ Transposing it with conditional pronouns changes the meaning. The stress on vowels changes the word. ‘Us’ and ‘them’ share the same consonants, but stress on the vowels changes the word.”
“So if I say, ‘Attack them,’ I might accidentally say, ‘We surrender?’”
The goblin nodded enthusiastically. “Quite so, governor. I must say, you learn quickly!”
“But that’s ridiculous. Is friendly fire common in combat?”
“Absolutely. It’s almost unavoidable—especially with regional dialects. Being prone to massive mistakes makes it safer not to communicate with goblins using the wrong dialect.”
I almost proposed that Greenie could change this when we put him on the throne, but I remembered to keep my thoughts of succession in check.
The prospect of learning a disorganized language held little appeal. “How long would it take me to learn just the basics?”
“Weeks, maybe months. I couldn’t live with myself if I taught you only enough to endanger yourself.”
“Having Dig at my disposal might help if the relic lies buried. It’s a shame I can’t fly on Beaker’s back. Maybe he’ll be strong enough to carry me to the Bluepeaks, but that won’t be possible for a while, if ever. I’m not sure that would even be safe. What types of monsters can I expect to encounter?”
“My people have driven away most of the megafauna. Dragons are scarce in the Bluepeaks. You’re much more likely to encounter bug bores.”
“Bugbears, did you say?”
“Bug bores—although there are also bugbears further north, they are a completely different creature. Bug bores are two-story toads covered with horns, armor, and muscle. They sport two claws on their forelimbs, perfect for digging goblins out of shallow holes.”
“Are they tough to kill?”
“Not that I know personally, but I’ve heard accounts of hundreds of goblins driving off a single bug bore.”
“If my cooldowns are available, I’ll have escape mechanics.”
“I’m more worried about the town, governor. Forays into the north might attract attention to Hawkhurst—just when caravan activity is about to begin.”
“What if our next building is an outpost? A midway point to Basilborough might help protect the route.”
My green chamberlain cast me a knowing look. “Are you sure you’d like to discuss building queues?”
“No. I see your point. We can save that idea until later.”
The building queue kindled another debate, but wise governors avoided repetitive discussions. Everyone knew settlement leaders heard the best gossip, and I wouldn’t have time to breathe if I didn’t curtail questions about development.
Distractions over the smithy’s overcrowding clouded my thoughts. While new soldiers would help train, operate, and fight, the settlement’s chief concerns revolved around fortifications.
Beaker’s appearance at the orrery doorstep caught my attention. The griffon stood on Hawkhurst Rock, looking inward to see if he missed anything exciting. No, only Greenie and I hunched over a table map determining the fate of the world—nothing for inquisitive griffons to see here.
“Come on. Let’s go back to the manor. Shadows are getting long, and Ally is stopping by in the late afternoon. We should involve her if we’re talking about shoring up defenses. And if we’re talking about gearing up for battle, I want to involve Yula too.”
“Perhaps an officers’ meeting is in order? Upon the market’s completion, the town’s transition to a planned economy gives us much to cover.”
I checked out the settlement’s interface.
Building Status
Market
Remaining Build Time
Efficiency
Workers
0.25 days
118 percent
24
The imminent market’s completion would change things, so establishing short- and long-term goals for ourselves became a pressing topic. Unfortunately, not all the officers made themselves available.
When I approached the door, Beaker pumped his wings, elated that I’d finally lost interest in the orrery. Greenie walked beside me, or rather, slightly behind, as if to broadcast the pecking order. He did the same thing with Fabulosa and Charitybelle, a habit that drove me crazy, but he seemed determined to keep it up.
I turned to him. “We’ll delay the officers’ meeting until Fab and Yula deal with the troglodytes. If they show up, we’ll have a town defense meeting tomorrow.”
I wish Fabulosa had asked me to go. She knew I’d be busy, but the invitation would have been a nice gesture. She, Rachel, and Yula had a huntress sisterhood thing going, and I wasn’t too proud to admit that it made me jealous. I wanted payback against the trogs too.
I gave the orrery a departing glance. It gladdened me to find a use for the beautiful building.