RUSTY

Heavyarm sat at the head of the table. A a patchwork quilt dominated the wall behind him, some pieces of which were the remnants of old tapestries. Fragments of disconnected images; a horse’s hoof, a cliff, and the top half of a single human knight stood out amid simple colored squares, as well as sections of what might have once been tabards or battle standards emblazoned with now unrecognizable heraldry. Minju, having removed her shawl to reveal a head of wavy hair like Minseo’s, encouraged the gang to make themselves comfortable and sample the various dishes her household had prepared.

Beti huddled between Chul’s feet, and he had saved the seat beside him for Rusty. Rusty clambered up to rest awkwardly on his haunches in a chair meant for goblins. His tail hung off to one side, and he could only balance by placing his claws on the table in front of him. A rich medley assailed his nostrils, and he salivated.

Platters of beetle patties were laid out beside a roast shank whose origin Rusty dared not guess. The beetle was glazed with a reduction of fermented berries, seasoned with wild herbs, and it smelled better than anything he had been exposed to in his short life. Though he was now perfectly capable of subsisting on garbage, he did not prefer it, especially when compared with the feast laid out before them. Complementing the meat dishes were a selection of roasted root vegetables, as well as a mixed bowl that reminded him of coleslaw.

“Do you always eat like this?” Seok asked. Every member of Heavyarm’s family was well dressed, by goblin standards, impossibly so. Not one of them wore anything that could be described as rags. Minju’s gown was simple but well made, with embroidery around the collar and its wide sleeves. The male children had full tunics and vests, everything clean, and with no signs of fraying or hard use. Seok, perpetually naked, was apparently beginning to feel underdressed, and had covered his crotch with a table napkin.

“Not always,” Minju said, “but we have a guest in Mudroot, and we were hoping you would answer our invitation.”

“It’s great!” Chul said, his mouth half full of a beetle patty.

Jiho was seated beside Bokhee, and as they ate, he fixed his hair and plastered on a smile before venturing a compliment.

“Your home is magnificent,” he said, “and you are a formidable young woman. I’ve heard many tales, and sung many songs, but I have never encountered anyone as striking as you, even when faced with a blade.”

Bokhee turned towards him, her eyes narrowing a fraction before she let out a snort, her lips caught between a smile and a grimace.

“Are you saying my face is sharp?”

“Oh,” Sooji chimed in, “he’s always saying that about me. Don’t pay him any mind.”

“Your face is like an ax blade,” Johi snapped at his sister. “There’s no comparison. That’s not what I mean.”

“We’re twins,” Sooji argued, “if my face is like an ax blade, then so is yours.”

Johi, forgetting he had been attempting to engage Heavyarm’s daughter in conversation, shifted in his seat to face Sooji, who was across the table from him. “It’s different for a man. My sharp features are dashing and desirable, whereas yours are off-putting and unattractive.”

“I like your face just fine,” Seok said, piling food onto his plate, “sturdy and dependable. A good, strong face.”

“Wait?” Sooji was caught between comments and trying to catch up. “Are you talking about me or Bokhee?”

“Bokhee, obviously.” Seok said. “Your face is off-putting and unattractive.”

Bokhee gave Seok a measuring stare. “Sturdy and dependable? Is that how I look?”

“It’s a compliment,” Seok replied quickly. “Take the compliment.”

Minseo giggled into a napkin, whereas the rest of the Heavyarm family seemed unsure of how to take the gang’s banter.

“I am not accustomed to such lively discussions at my dinner table,” Heavyarm said sternly.

“It was not my intent to cause anyone distress,” Johi said, his demeanor flipping like a switch in a tinker contraption. “Please forgive my sister’s unwarranted outburst. We are rarely seated at such a fine table, among such fine company, and our manners have suffered as a result.”

“Ah,” Heavyarm nodded to himself. “I suppose that is to be expected. My family and I remain so much in our own company that we often forget the inferior etiquette of common goblins.”

Johi’s face darkened, and Rusty worried that his temper would take hold again, but he mastered himself in the same instant. “You speak the truth, good sir. Your family sits a world apart from the masses of Midden, and we are but a gang of fools.”

Minju touched her husband’s arm before he could respond. “Don’t be too hard on yourselves. This house could benefit from a touch of liveliness now and again.”

Heavyarm’s second wife, Sunhi, had barely looked up from her meal during the exchange. “The table or the battlefield,” she said, as if to herself, “predictability is a weakness.”

Heavyarm considered her words, and the moment of tension passed. The male children wore expressions of grave disapproval throughout, looking to their father for permission to speak, and not finding it, remained silent. Their conversation turned to other things, as Minseo asked Mudroot for her opinions about the garden and how it might be improved. The [Shaman] had much to say on the subject, and they lost the rest of the meal to a lecture on the finer points of fertilization, crop rotation, and the few species of plants native to Midden that could be cultivated as grains.

As it became clear that the gathering had enjoyed its fill, apart from Chul, who had awakened a bottomless appetite, Heavyarm rapped his fist on the table to call for their attention.

“Now that you have enjoyed my hospitality, we come to the matter at hand. Chul, we have elected you the Great Goblin of Midden, and while I cannot fully understand the circumstances that brought us to this juncture, you have been raised above me by the will of the tribe. While I am forced to acknowledge your position, I am not forced to offer you my pledge. For that, you will have to concede me certain satisfactions.”

Chul reluctantly lowered a handful of cabbage back to his plate.

“Satisfactions?”

Heavyarm nodded brusquely. “The same. For my honor to be satisfied, I require a tribute, a token of mutual respect, something worthy of the support my pledge would mean.”

Rusty didn’t like where this was going. He’d only just gotten his hoard the way he liked it, and he wasn’t interested in seeing it diminished.

“The Midden Tribe gave us treasures along with their pledges,” he said. “It seems unfair to them to turn that around for you.”

Heavyarm frowned. “You misunderstand your position, young dragon. The goblins who gave you gifts did so because they need you, as they need a Great Goblin. To have you as their leader is itself the gift you gave them in return. My family and I are in no such dire need of leadership. We survive well enough on our own. We are safe in our stronghold, and my shield has withstood the blows of human swords before. It will do so again if it comes to that. The tribe may not recognize my worth, but you must, if you desire my pledge.”

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

“You’re a great fighter,” Seok said. “I saw that in the melee. Grizzletooth’s the best that ever was, but you stood toe to toe, and he barely beat you.”

Heavyarm met him with a level stare. “It was a draw.”

Rusty, having witnessed the duel, would not have described it that way, but he let the point drop.

“Where is Grizzletooth?” Chul asked. “The last I saw; he was blown up.”

“He survived,” Mudroot said. “I saw to that. His loss would have lessened Midden. Grizzletooth is with his family now, recovering from the melee. Getting him walking was as much as I could do. It will be weeks before he is himself again, and even then, he will live the rest of his life with the scars of that flame.”

“As he should,” Heavyarm said, with his sons nodding in agreement. “For him to offer his support to the [Firestarter] was a disgrace upon his house. While I can respect his skill as a warrior, I cannot countenance such a distinct lack of judgment.”

Seok’s face hardened at the insult to his hero, and Sooji interjected before he could say something they would all regret.

“We do appreciate what your support would mean for Chul,” she said, “and for all of us. What could we give you that you would see as equal to that?”

Jiho tapped his mug with a fork. He’d spent most of Mudroot’s monologue brooding to himself, taking on that faraway look that Rusty had seen so often when the arrogant goblin seemed to decide that the chatter of his fellows wasn’t worth considering. Now he was fully present once more, and he picked up the conversation as if he had been paying close attention to everything that had been said instead of staring off into space.

“There isn’t anything we could offer that would be worthy of your loyalty, Heavyarm. From what I have seen of your household, our meager treasures would only diminish what you already have. I propose a different sort of exchange.”

Heavyarm made a slight gesture of acquiescence. “Then I give you leave to continue. What do you propose?”

Johi glanced at Bokhee before addressing the head of the household. “I think Seok should stay with you for a time. Your influence would be a benefit to him, and through him, to the entire tribe when he returned.”

“Hey!” Seok started, but he quieted at a glare from Johi.

“That seems to be a request for further favor,” Heavyarm said, “not a token given to me.”

“The tribe does not properly appreciate your way of life,” Johi went on, “and Seok is an example of that attitude. He models himself after Grizzletooth, and there are many goblins like him. [Skirmisher]s crop up everywhere you turn, but [Tribe Champion]s like yourself are rare and underappreciated. If you could instill in him a fraction of your honor, he would bring it back to us, and seeing the change in him, the tribe’s respect for you could only grow.”

“Hm,” Heavyarm considered the idea. “I see your point, and if nothing else, my sons could use him as a training dummy. That is still, however, not a gesture of tribute on your part, rather it is a separate, balanced exchange.”

“As to that,” Jiho said, “while they did not elect you as the Great Goblin, we could bring your family closer to the throne. Let Bokhee return to the tribe with us, as Chul’s first wife.”

Bokhee sat up rigidly in her seat, looking past Jiho to Chul, her eyes wide.

Heavyarm’s frown deepened. “For a second time, you propose a gift that is no gift at all. This is yet more benefit to you.”

Minju disagreed. “For your daughter to wed the Great Goblin is no small thing, my husband. Our family could only grow in esteem, and it isn’t as if there is another match for her here.”

Heavyarm looked at his second wife, and the muscular woman shrugged. “She’s of age. Her children would strengthen us both. I have no objection.”

“Wife?” Chul gaped. “Can I…do I uh,” he pushed Rusty, nearly overturning the chair. “Say something!”

“That sounds good to me,” Rusty said, sorry for his friend’s discomfort, but glad the discussion had veered away from giving up treasure.

“Are you unsatisfied with my daughter?” Heavyarm’s tone was ominous.

“No, I uh,” Chul stammered, “that’s not it. I’m uh, just not ready for marriage, children, uh, this seems kind of fast, is all.”

“You are the Great Goblin,” Heavyarm said. “What is there to be ready for? Would you accept Bokhee as your betrothed or not?”

The goblin girl in question looked between her father and Chul, confusion writ large on her broad face. Rusty couldn’t blame her. Her father had gone from not wanting to give her up to being offended by the possibility that Chul wasn’t interested, and Chul’s reticence had to be a surprise, considering how much of goblin society was arranged around making a good match and having as many children as quickly as one could.

“I uh,” Chul said, pulling his hat down over his face, “yes, sure, yeah, I guess. I accept. We don’t have to start having children right away, do we?”

There were details to be hammered out, and Jiho handled most of the talking from then on. Seok would remain with Heavyarm as a sort of squire. He rejected the idea at first, but his pride as a warrior was called into question when Jiho asked him if he was afraid of finding out there were better ways of fighting and training than the ones he knew. Sooji supported the arrangement as well, though it would mean breaking up the gang, because having Heavyarm as a mentor would mean Seok might actually learn how to fight properly. Leveling up was one thing, but as Seok didn’t have any immediate prospects for gaining experience, developing combat skills and physical attributes the hard way was his only consolation. He’d been training on his own for years with little progress, so it wasn’t hard to see how this would be good for him.

As for the betrothal, they would hold a small ceremony in the manor the following day, after which Heavyarm agreed to offer Chul his pledge, on the condition that the union would be annulled, and the pledge rescinded if Bokhee was not pregnant within a year. Chul underwent paroxysms of anxiety about this, but he held himself together, and Heavyarm was satisfied that the young goblin meant no offense.

“He is unsure of his own worthiness,” Jiho assured him, “not that of your daughter.”

Soon the gang retired for the evening, with Rusty and Chul being given a room to themselves in the second story of the manor. It was furnished as well as the rest of the home, with a real bed and a mattress that looked like it had never spent more than a week in the rain. Chul, however, was in no mood to enjoy such finery.

“What do I do?” He begged Rusty. “How do I get out of this?”

“You're overreacting,” Rusty said, stretching out to take up the entire bed. “I’m sure you’ll figure this out. A year is a long time. We might not even be here by then.”

Chul had been pacing frantically from one end of the room to the other, but that statement stopped him in his tracks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rusty had been thinking about ways to bring this up, not sure of how Chul would react, let alone the rest of the gang, but it was something he couldn’t keep to himself anymore.

“We need to leave Midden. All of us. The gang, as many goblins as we can take. This is a terrible place. What happens to goblins here isn’t right, and there’s no way to stop it if we stay.”

“Leave Midden?” Rusty could feel Chul trying to wrap his head around the idea and failing miserably. “Where would we go?”

“Away,” Rusty said, “as far away as possible. Preferably to the goblin homeland. But any other island would be better than Elswyre.”

“But you can’t fly,” Chul said, “and I can’t fly, and I don’t think Jiwoo can fly, and Seok definitely can’t.”

Sometimes, Rusty had to wonder if Chul was really as dense as he seemed, or he just had a strange sense of humor. “There are flying ships, aren’t there? We take one of those, get everyone on board, and just go. You saw Toogi fight the human heroes, and we might be as strong as he was already. Jiwoo and Jiho used to raid Harborfell, didn’t they? If they could do it then, we could do it now.”

Chul paled. “That was a bad thing. It made the bad thing happen.”

“Not right away,” Rusty insisted. “They went on a bunch of raids before the humans came and punished Midden in response. Am I wrong about that?”

Chul looked confused. “How do you know what they did?”

“Jiho told me, or at least he told me part of it. The point is, if we all go together, we can do it in one night. We get a ship, and we go. Someone has to know how to pilot one. I bet Jiho might.”

Chul sat down on the bed, and Rusty made room for him. His friend was uncharacteristically thoughtful. “They won’t go. The Midden is the whole world for us goblins.”

“They might if you asked them too. We can talk to the other goblin leaders, convince Grik, we have some time. You’re the leader of the tribe now. They would have to listen to you. When you gave your speech, the way they felt about it; I think the goblins want to fight, they just don’t know how. They don’t see a way out. We could give it to them. It’s what you talked about, giving goblins what they deserve. What they deserve is to go home.”

“Ailon,” Chul whispered the word.

“That’s right.” Rusty brought his head around in front of his friend. “Won’t you at least think about it?”

Chul hummed to himself, another nervous habit, and Rusty gave him time. They didn’t have to decide that night, but this had been on his mind since Grik had explained to him how goblins had come to be in Midden. Leaving the junkyard wouldn’t be enough, not when it would trap them in the land of humans. They had to leave Elswyre entirely, and as far as he knew, the only way to do that was on one of the flying ships.

As Chul continued to hum, Rusty noticed a shift in the room's air. He looked at the door, which was shut, and then to the window, where a lithe figure crouched, wrapped in brown and gray cloth.

“You need to come with me,” Slink said. It was the first time he had heard her speak, and her voice sounded raspy and forced. “There’s someone the Great Goblin has to meet.”