“I like what you have done to the place. It is a shame we are leaving all of this hard work behind. Maybe we can come back and visit soon.” I try my hardest to be inclusive with my language. Being a captive of the goblin clan, it only feels right.

Countless times I have to motion for Gene not to engage. She has kept close by as a hawk remaining out of the goblin's focus. She could come done and start blowing things up. I could escape in the chaos, or we could bathe in the blood of the greens. I shudder at the last callous thought. That is not the play.

I choose not to take aggressive actions. As an insider, I’m in a keen position to work on our foreign affairs. Plus, me, being a fool really sells it to this goblin folk that I am a fool. It is easy to discount fools. And if one thing is for sure, I love a good discount.

Time spent in my past life as a merchant of the finest assortment of useless goods had me traveling the world far and wide, searching for the best deal. As a merchant, I was only one deal away from making it in the world of mercantile. Buy a shoe for coppers from the shoed and sell it for more coppers to the shoeless.

I was dashing with my mercantile. I could bargain like the deal would make or break the world. My name was growing. My wares were always sold. I needed more. More money, more wares, and above all, more deals. Getting the best deal was the biggest thrill one could chase in an entire lifetime. Slaying dragons is for the poor. Buying dragons… is a game only a few can play.

And that is how I have landed myself tied up in the convoy of a goblin clan. No good merchant will give a deal to outsiders. You got to be ‘in’ to get the goods. And I am all in.

We cross the woods, setting a good pace. My hands are tied behind my back, and my steps are purposely clumsy. Two page-ranked guards offer me support and company as I struggle to trek over plants, logs, and rocks.

The warrior has red tribal tattoos covering half her body and face. She is wearing mail armor protecting her upper body. Her legs are barely covered by a protective battle skirt fashioned out of hardened leather. Knee-high leather boots are her only other form of protection. She wears a short sword on her left hip, a wooden-circular shield on her back, and two axes on her right hip.

Most women in the clan wear similar bottom apparel that more or less covers the upper half of their bodies. More of them seem to be in the less category. The women are all muscular and fierce. The fashion seems to be piercings and styled hair. My warrior guard has no less than seven piercings in her right ear alone. I haven’t been able to get a count on her left side since her longer hair on that side has it covered. Not that her hair is long, it is just longer on that side.

The Rogue, though not as bulky as the warrior, stands six inches taller than the warrior and me. He is dressed in tight-fitting leathers that seamlessly blend in with our surroundings. More often than not, I forget he is by my side. Unlike the warrior, the rogue has no weapons visible. The vibes he is giving off leave no doubt if he is packing or not. He is definitely packing. I can tell by his silent confidence. He’s probably got eleven knives up his sleeves alone.

Unlike the women in the goblin clan, the men don’t seem to follow any general fashion. To say that they have fashion is a generous observation. The men from what I can see wear whatever they want for whatever reason they want. Some have shirts, or armor covering. Others are barely standing by a cloth. Most forgo any hair options and replace them with tribal tattoos. Red, blue, black, a few yellows, and purples, and even one spunky goblin went his own way entirely and got a green tattoo. I never would have noticed the blended tat, however, that mad lad somehow got me to gaze upon his dome when he punched me in the gut to say hello.

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The goblins are a real friendly bunch, and most of them prefer to say hi in a similar fashion. Most of the time they strike their greeting when Sil isn’t near. There firm hands-on approach is somewhat endearing. Sil hasn’t dropped by much since we’ve been walking. She coordinates our travels in the front cluster of goblins.

Rather than walking in a line, we are clustered into groups of twenty and have been tackling the excursion in separate units. We are a middle cluster in-between the two clusters in the front and back. Each cluster carries a portion of supplies and food while the back two clusters carry most the supplies and food for the clan.

The travel arrangements are unique. We cover much of the ground spread apart. Other than the occasionally broken twig or scattered dirt, no obvious trail is left behind or before us. I am not even sure if we are on the same trail as the rest of the pack. I am mostly trusting my guides on this one. With the two guards by my side, I never feel alone.

“You two come here often?” I try to strike up a casual chat with both of them. “The scenery is breathtaking. I wonder if I can bottle it up and sell it.” It is a crude attempt to see if the rogue or warrior shares my merchant passion.

If they do, they don’t offer anything on my engaging question. “Hey, I don’t think I got either of your names.” I trip on an exposed root just as welcoming fist swings for my head. I play it off like I don’t notice and continue with my one-sided conversation.

“Sil never gave me her name either. I don’t know if she mentioned this to you two, but I am the one that gave her the nickname Silent Night. If you would like I can give you both nicknames as well. I know names are important to you so I will give it some thought.” More silence follows, though in my biased opinion, warrior lady seems to like the nickname idea. She’s definitely getting a good one.

We finally reach the stream, and we are not far from where I made a temporary camp what feels like a lifetime ago. Our cluster takes a break to eat and hydrate. My guards still keep to my side and withhold any refreshments. Not that I need or want any. They probably would share if I asked. I just don’t ask. The goblins are already including me in on their trip. They shouldn’t have to provide my food as well. I mean they will eventually be providing me food. They just shouldn’t have to do it on their own accord.

Murmurings between our cluster leaders, who happen to be Jonas and the bard, happen without me. They motion to the goblins in the cluster, the stream, the sky, and me while discussing who knows what. When they break, word is spread quickly through the cluster and goblins quickly get to work setting up a temporary camp.

Five cloth tents are pitched and a small fire is started. Five goblins take up patrol duties around our camp. I am tied to a tree in the center of the camp near the fire. A cook starts preparing dinner. The goblins are efficient. Everyone in our cluster has a task and completes it quickly. A few goblins retire to the tents early while the rest see to their own task.

Jonas, after talking briefly with the bard takes off swiftly in the direction we have been traveling. Two more scout units take off in the direction behind us. Before long, our camp is joined by the two clusters following us.

The supplies and food are all packed and bundled practically begging to be plundered. My genius plan that set itself in motion is working out flawlessly. I just need to wait for the cover of night, figure out how to haul away all the supplies, then execute.

Plans start forming. I come up with all the clever ways possible to pull of the perfect plunder. Then all my plans come to a halt. The peaceful camp comes back to life. Goblins move quickly. Their armor is put back on, and weapons are drawn.

Not wanting to be left in the dark I stretch out my senses. The spiders are here.