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Judging by the reactions of everyone gathered, I wasn’t the only one counting red blips on the settlement map’s radar. Everyone looked at one another, but Yula raised her arms. “Mothers and cheeldren go to manor and shut door. Everyone else, stay put and be calm. Gobleen King ees here to take charge.”

Take charge? I could scarcely believe Yula had agreed to this, but she followed orders from the governor.

People looked at me for an explanation, so I kept my reaction in check. I clenched my jaw and narrowed my eyes like I’d been part of the plan. Guards ushered Iris and Lloyd into the manor with the noncombatants and closed the door behind them. To the north, the front gates of the barbican yawned like a giant decapitated head, making the drawbridge protrude like a tongue.

Forgoing our only advantage over the goblins made little sense. Instead of escorting people inside, Rachel and Jahid stood at the lip of the drawbridge, spears crossed in the universal gesture of a barred entrance.

The red blips crossed the meadow and filtered into town at no hurried pace. They stayed spaced out from one another, rendering Whirl all but useless.

Through narrowed eyes, I observed Greenie standing at the foot of the throne. A ring of stone markers outlined the great hall, implying that Hawkhurst workers would erect a structure around it.

He wanted my trust, but his apologetic expression didn’t boost my confidence. Was he gambling on our lives, hoping his brother wouldn’t enslave us? I learned enough about goblin culture to know that goodwill gestures showed signs of weakness. Rezan couldn’t allow Hawkhurst to exist and maintain his status among the goblin tribes.

Had Greenie not gone to sleep in the Dark Room? He looked exhausted, but I assumed that came from working on the ballistas. Perhaps the interim governor nodded off, and Rezan influenced him through dreams.

Sune Njal advised me never to trust goblins. He also warned me that partners disappointed him whenever conflicting interests arose. Greenie’s bonded promises to his brother and Hawkhurst matched the very definition of a compromised ally. Or had he somehow figured out a way to thread the needle?

Goblin culture celebrated trickery, mirroring Greenie’s advice. He said he wanted me to understand that a governor sometimes needed to lie, and I’d incorrectly assumed he meant me. How long had he prepared me for this? He’d suggested making bonded promises when we first started Hawkhurst, but I wasn’t sure if that mattered.

I regarded everyone’s worried and angry expressions. The dwarves would back a mutiny. Regardless of the outcome, I could never forgive Greenie for risking their freedom.

And yet, I promised to trust him.

As the goblins filtered through town, I steadied my weapon. With people on the ground and the barbican open, they had the settlement by the throat anyway.

Citizens of Hawkhurst enjoyed a buff called Amphibious that appeared whenever we swam. If we couldn’t defeat the goblin army, we could out-swim them. I decided the only way to mitigate our exposure involved backing ourselves against the river behind the throne.

“Get back to the river, everyone!”

Greenie shot me a warning look and tried to smooth over my order. “Yes. Everyone make room for our guests.”

Eager to put distance between themselves and the oncoming goblins, everyone complied. Our town of outcasts gathered between the barbican and the manor. I stayed close to Greenie, who stood by the throne.

Rezan’s lighthouse eyes gave away his position as he floated along the lip of the quarry. A hobgoblin named Grunter, General Sturm, and Inquisitor Crooga followed close behind. I recognized many Deathless, including Dizzy, Krill, and Hardugs.

In contrast to the conjunction attack, no moons of Miros bore witness to the scene. When I triggered Presence, every goblin but the king squinted and sneered. It amounted to a pitiful display of defiance, as their eyes would adjust to the light.

Rezan’s improvised chinstrap still bound the relic to his head. I’d hoped the indignity of strings crossing his face might have convinced him to loosen it.

Three times as many goblins who’d attacked the barbican surrounded the congregation. The additions had lower levels, though the king didn’t need numbers to beat us.

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General Sturm and Inquisitor Crooga trailed behind the king. When they reached shouting distance, Crooga spoke in the common tongue. “Behold King Rezan the Deathless, uniter of Goblinkind!”

Goblins with readied arrows searched the skies for roving griffons. Had they not been so vigilant, I would have summoned Beaker if I thought he could be useful. It wasn’t clear how this might play out.

Rezan regarded the throne’s intricate designs with a smile and spoke in his native language. “After all these years, Esol of the Bonepits has discovered a worthy use for his little crafts.”

The king liked the throne as much as I hated it. The high-backed chair perched on a decorated wooden platform obscenely elevated its occupant, perfect for an egomaniac.

Greenie ignored the throne. “May I assume your word still stands?”

Rezan turned his attention to his brother. “You’ll abide by your words, brother? You’ll agree to serve the goblin weal, paying tribute every season?”

Greenie bowed his head. “If the terms are amenable, you’ll be the first goblin to conquer a surface settlement. I’ve outlined a great hall around your throne to show you—”

Rezan bared his teeth at the manor and barbican. “What use have I for buildings? They’re for surface dwellers. We and we wonder if you offer a surrender in name only. Perhaps I should change the bargain to suit the spirit of our relationship.”

“You gave me your word to—”

“Have you learned nothing from history? A king’s word changes at his whim—for no higher law governs him. There shall be no authority among you. All officers will be taskmasters, and your people will mine, not build. These above-the-ground perversions will come down immediately.”

Greenie held up his hands. “Rezan, if you mean to take us into bondage, the deal is off.”

“We and we shall see about that, Esol. You could never hurt us, but the lieutenant governor is another matter.” Rezan gave me a sideways glance and cast Divine Mind. “Do you wish us any harm, radiant one?”

I gritted my teeth but kept Gladius Cognitus in my sheath.

Rezan purred in the Common Tongue. “Oh, this one has no intention of mining. Perhaps he’ll fight as our champion. He thinks jumping in the water will avoid servitude, but doing so will lose his precious buildings. We brought enough oil with us this time to raze this place to the ground.”

Citizens behind me muttered cries and protests.

Greenie begged into his brother’s ear. “Your Highness, perhaps we could mine and farm for you at once. We could fill your bellies with soft and sweet bread, making your court the envy of all goblindom.”

Rezan stared at me while Divine Mind burned but ultimately nodded at his brother’s proposal. “That’s a satisfactory compromise, Esol. Perhaps you’ll make a fine governor after all. You’ll be far away and yet useful.”

“I will be useful. You can count on me.”

“We and we will squeeze this town for all its worth.”

“I will do everything within my power to do so, sire.”

Rezan turned and taunted me. “You are ours now. Kneel before me, human.”

Notifications in the settlement interface cited a bona fide non-aggression pact between Hawkhurst and the Bonepit Tribe, signed by duly appointed leaders Rezan and Esol. The agreement’s details explained that lieutenant governors didn’t have permission to cancel treaties.

Every red blip on my map’s radar turned green.

Attacking a member of the Bonepit Tribe carried all the consequences of a bonded promise. I couldn’t kill Rezan without undoing myself. The same bond held the goblins in check. They couldn’t hurt us as long as we mined iron and sent them our surplus income, food, and resources.

Rezan ascended the throne and sat on its cushion.

I moved forward but did not surrender my blade. If I could take Greenie’s life, I would become Hawkhurst’s governor by default—and could nullify the pact. As I approached, Greenie kneeled at his brother’s feet, almost making it easy for me to strike him. Presenting his back to me practically ensured a critical hit.

As I approached, Rezan looked down at his brother. “Your lieutenant isn’t so easily bowed. Your misfortune is just deserts for serving his kind.”

I stopped when I remembered Divine Mind broadcasted my intention to usurp Greenie—a coup that somehow pleased the king. Assassinating Hawkhurst’s governor released him from his bonded promise, perhaps the only thing in Miros he feared. Rezan wanted me to kill his brother—hence, the taunting.

I didn’t draw my weapon.

When I faltered, the glowing amber eyes narrowed. “The human is not so easily manipulated—a pity. You think you have tricked me, but you forget how miserable I can make my subjects.”

Greenie raised his head, looked at his brother, and caressed the bottom step of the throne. He pressed a hidden button that slid a lever inside the platform beneath the throne. The lever prevented an iron mainspring from rapidly unfurling in a spasm of elastic potential energy. As an unwinding spring lost torque, it transferred force to a telescoping rod that propelled the seat’s cushion.

The uncoiled spring produced a cartoonish boing sound as it launched Rezan skyward. The mechanism Greenie promised to use on the ballistas sent the king in a calculated trajectory over the heads of Hawkhurst’s huddled citizens and into the Orga River.

The waters silenced Rezan’s cry as he splashed down. While the seat cushion bobbed to the surface, the relic’s weight pulled the king headfirst into the muddy undertow. The churning, black waters extinguished his two glowing eyes forever.

Greenie emitted a second cry, almost identical to his brother’s, and disappeared in a flash of light, leaving a common core that fell to the ground.

Greenie broke his bonded promise, a move costing him everything.

When the game’s interface promoted me to Hawkhurst’s governor, I canceled the goblin treaty, turning most of the blips surrounding us red.

I didn’t remember pulling Gladius Cognitus out of his scabbard, but I felt its weight in my hand.

Yula’s posture and expectant stare shook me out of my trance. She awaited my word to attack.

I pointed the glowing weapon at the goblins. “Citizens of Hawkhurst. Please give our guests the welcome they deserve.”

Dwarves, humans, and an orc howled a collective battle cry, tearing after the goblins with concealed and improvised weapons.