Blem stared at his "guests" for the better part of a minute. The princess seemed to pay Blem no mind as she examined herself with a pocket mirror no bigger than the size of her palm. The bodyguard however sneered at Blem, and kept the little green man in his sight at all times. When the princess finally acknowledged Blem's existence she turned to her bodyguard, "Jezzeric?"

"Yes my lady?" The man's voice was just as brutish as his appearance suggested.

"Read this...thing...my proclamation, if you would." As the man readied the scroll from his back pocket the princess turned her gaze towards the cave, occasionally glancing at the goblin.

"By the order of her majesty Ymira the First, beloved Princess of the Dragonhall Kingdom, you are to be removed from this cave immediately!"

"Okay," Blem replied.

The underreaction in Blem's tone seemed to set off a wave of indignation among the royal party. Blem could hear the clattering of armor cascade down the line as the knights began to angrily whisper at each other. The princess and the bodyguard both glared at the goblin, forcing Blem to surpress an eyeroll given that this wasn't the first time a situation like this happened to him. He knew the score by now, if he beat a retreat and stayed at a hiding place for a few weeks the princess and entourage would leave the cave. And then Blem would be forced to start from scratch...again.

As Blem turned to enact the first part of his plan a large boot slammed down on his feet. Blem's eyes teared up at the sudden stomp, and before he could speak he felt a sickening wetness in his chest. As he looked down he saw a dagger jutting through his shirt, blood gushed as Jezzeric pulled the blade. Blem gasped for air as he collapsed on the ground.

"You misunderstood the lady, vermin. She said removed, not evicted. My lady is very precise in her wording." Jezzeric pointed to the cave as several dismounted knights moved in to clear it out. Blem felt himself drift in and out of consciousness. One moment he could feel his mice running over him in an attempt to escape. The next he saw the princess dangling a pair of boots by the laces.

"You know a pair of boots like these would be fit for the royal fairy dragon," Princess Ymira knelt down to meet the dying goblin's gaze. "They most certainly don't make a good fit on an ugly little mud dweller like yourself."

Goblin could only watch as they set his furniture and belongings on fire. Nothing was spared, not even the trinkets. As Blem's eyes glassed over he could only summon an indignant cry, a desperate plea for help, for anything to be done about these repeated injustices.

Somewhere close, a few hours later.

By now the knights had cleared out. By the look of things they ran roughshod through the fields and grassland. Not a blade of grass from the cave to the side road was standing upright after they left. Instead the only thing that remained was an eerie silence and a muddy wake created by dozens of hooves. Pleck cracked his neck before he descended. Pleck was a scavenger, and a shaman. He knew plenty about the old ways, but he also knew he needed to make a living. He had shadowed the royal party ever since they passed through the Red Mountains. He might not have known why they were here, but he knew knights had a penchent for leaving things behind.

Pleck ran his hand over the hoof prints. The hooves carried a heavy step, and bit deep into the ground. "War horses, and no ponies or mules to break up the monotony" Pleck mumbled. Before he could explore further he felt the hairs on his neck stand up. Pleck darted into the bushes. His caution paid off. A trio of knights thundered down the road. Fortunately for Pleck they didn't seem too interested in investigating. But Pleck knew if he was going to do anything he needed to do it fast.

When the knights faded from view Pleck darted towards the plume of smoke in the middle of the field. At the end of the muddied path he found the source of the smoke, and the body of a little goblin. A pool of blood, now drying out, had formed around the goblin. Pleck was not so different from the goblin, given the fact he too was a goblin. More specifically he was a hobgoblin, taller and lankier compared to his smaller brethren. Unlike his smaller brethren, his species was bordering on extinction.

Pleck felt a tinge of anger while he combed through the cave. He hated it, but he understood why someone would kill a goblin. But to bring a group of knights just to fulfill the deed went so far past excessive he couldn't possibly grasp why they came here in the first place. Then it hit him. This goblin was the one from all the stories.

Pleck's anger was displaced by pity. Several years of torment and this is how it ends. No graves, no mourners, just a pool of blood and an open field. Pleck went back to approach the little corpse. When he saw all the mice around the body he almost swatted them away. Instead they all sat around the goblin in a circle. Unnervingly enough they seemed almost reverent. They didn't notice Pleck at all, even when he stepped inside their ring. He stood over the body and began his prayer, hoping that the Great One was listening. It wasn't a long prayer. Goblin religions rarely dragged out their ceremonies especially in somber occasions like this.

"Rest easy now little one, your tribulations are over."

Squeak, squeak, squeak! All the mice started squeaking and darted around Pleck's feet. It was so sudden that he didn't even notice the goblin breathing at first. When the little goblin twitched, Pleck nearly trampled over the mice in his retreat. With every panicked breath Pleck gradually regained his composure.

"By the Great One..."