In the Cave, a few hours after the slaver incident...

Blem woke up. He felt jittery, like someone spiked his morning tea with a pound of sugar. It didn't feel real and it didn't seem real. But they did it. They actually took out the people looking to cause trouble. Blem let his excitement pass. His heart settled and his emotions calmed themselves enough to allow him to look around. Elia was sound asleep on a pile of straw. His mice stood guard over Elia. A gesture he'd hope she'd appreciate.

Outside the cave he saw Pleck cleaning up. The bodies were stacked up, their weapons and gear in a seperate pile. Suddenly Blem was hit with the gravity of what he had done. Blem had killed things before, like rats and snakes or even scary bugs, but this felt different. He had never taken a person's life before, even as others wanted to take his. Sure he fantasized but he never seriously thought it would happen. A knot welled up in his gut, revulsion replaced pride. He began hyperventilating and slowly retreated from the men he had killed earlier. When Pleck put his hands on Blem's shoulders, Blem nearly cried out in terror.

"Your first kill I take it?" Pleck asked. Blem calmed himself and nodded. "Don't worry, I reacted the same way. When I was a stripling¹An old timey way of saying "young man." I took my first life. I felt sick for a week, and the worst part was we were at war so I had to get over it...fast."

"What if I never get over it?"

Pleck thought about it deeply, nearly losing himself in his musings. "The only advice I got, because it was the only advice ever given to me, is to mourn the ones who didn't deserve to die. The way how it was a few hours back was simple. Us or them. We choose us, and given their occupation I don't think I'd be mourning them too deeply."

Blem returned his gaze to the pile of bodies and took a deep breath. "Whenever we get into a scrape like that...I won't hold back if they are bad."

"And if they are good?" Pleck countered.

Blem thought deeply, "Then...I'll try to make them see reason." As the words left his lips he remembered his vows. "But make no mistake, I will not retreat from a fight. And if a good person decides the only course of action is to kill me...I will kill them in turn."  Although he couldn't see Pleck's face, hiss reassuring pat on the shoulder made Blem think he was satisfied. It took a lot of nerve for Blem to go over to the man he killed. There was a hole in throat, and his eyes were dull and faded. Blem put his hand on the man's forehead. The man had a thick beard, which reminded Blem about his own uncle. The skin was cold and clammy, a feeling that made him shudder from the tips of his fingers all the way to his spine. He closed the dead man's lids.

"Come on Blem, I already dug a hole, we just gotta bury em."

"What did you use to dig?"

"A shovel. I'm a scavenger, sometimes I dig."

Blem let that particular thread go and grabbed the feet of one of the men.

Nighttime, that same day...

When Elia woke up she felt lost. Groggily she recalled the events of the last few days, about how she had evaded her persuers through the woods before coming across the cave. As she remembered every detail of her escape she also remembered every detail of her leading to her capture. Grief ebbed and flowed. It felt like a little nose nuzzling her arm...actually it felt like a dozen little noses nuzzling her arm. Her head snapped over to see dozens of mice rubbing their faces over the bare flesh of her arm. She let out a scream so loud it echoed and reverberated throughout the cave. The little mice scattered over to Blem who literally jumped out of his seat. Pleck grasped his chest as he looked at Elia. "Did you have a nightmare?" Blem asked.

Elia shakily pointed to the mice all clustered around Blem. "M-m-mouse," the mice seemed to exchange glances with Blem.

"What about them?" Blem asked.

"She's afraid of them Blem," Pleck added.

"Why, they kept the vermin away from her?"

"They are vermin!" Elia replied in exasperation.

The mice began squeaking in protest. "How dare you, my mice aren't any common vermin!"

"Easy you two," Pleck tried calming them. "How about we try starting on the right foot instead."

Elia glanced at the two goblins uneasily, and she especially kept a vigilant eye on the mice. She wasn't afriad of them, but the thought of them crawling all over her made her shiver. Likewise the thought of being in the care of a pair of goblins kept her on guard. She had heard all the rumors about goblins. How they steal maidens, devour children, torch houses, and kill livestock. She had fought them before, back when she and her tribe still roamed the wilds of Kylanna's Blessing. They raided in great numbers, but were never successful. The one's who did the raiding often looked like Blem; when she thought about it she hadn't actually seen a hobgoblin in a long time. Regardless of her musings she was still stuck in a cave with two strange goblins and no weapons.

"Here you go," Blem said handing her a plate of dried meats and berries. "It came from the rations that the slavers had on them. I'd feed you something else but Pleck told me elves don't eat goblin food." Elia kept her skepticism to herself, especially as Pleck slid her a cup of tea.

"You'll need to eat to regain your strength, your captivity has weakened you," Pleck stated.

"I'll manage," Elia tried to rise to her feet but found her body just couldn't keep up with her thoughts. The events of the past few days pushed her to her absolute limits and now she was paying the price. Not only was she stuck in a cave with two weirdo goblins and no weapons, she was also powerless to help herself.

"I know you probably don't trust us, but could you at least give us the benefit of the doubt.

Elia looked at Blem. She had never known any goblins personally enough to be a judge of their character, but she could at the very least try to trust Blem. "Alright...but if either you try anything funny you can bet I'll make you pay for it."

"Good enough for me," Blem said as he walked over to Pleck. Elia feasted slowly and carefully. She kept her eyes trained on the goblins who seemed to pay her no mind. Pleck was teaching Blem how to swing a blade, and where to thrust when fighting a man. Elia could tell Pleck has some experience fighting humanoids before. None of his advice was wrong, and quite frankly she found it a little unnerving that Pleck knew the best ways to kill humans. Blem listened intently to Pleck, asking questions only a novice would ask. The fact he pulled off an expert shot on one of the slaver bosses must've been dumb luck over anything else.

The next couple of days were uneventful. Despite living like animals these goblins wore the trappings of civilization well. She still didn't trust Pleck, he was a man who hid his true self well. He wore an air of mystery that seemed to follow him no matter what he did. His stoic demeanor and strands of greying stringy hair only added to the effect of his mysteriousness. He moved about with light steps that rarely made a sound.

Blem on the other hand was an open book. He fashioned himself several pairs of little leather boots. Much to her surprise he even fashioned some footwear for Elia. Nothing fantastical, just a pair of plain boots. But to Elia these boots represented her saviour quite well. "You know Blem you didn't need to make me these," she pointed to her new boots.

"I disagree. You'll need a pair after you get better. That way you can walk through the woods without roughing up your feet."Much to her surprise he wasn't some brutish little monster who waltzed around terrorizing the cave like her childhood stories would have her believe. Instead he was gentle and calm. Blem kept to himself but was social when pressed. He confirmed a lot of what she thought, in the sense that he was the cave goblin everyone seemed to beat up. He also told her about his most recent encounter with the princess and her knights. Elia felt angry at how excessive it must've been. They didn't even spare any furniture or trinkets. The more she thought about it the more it reminded her of the raid on her village.

I need to think of something else. Elia looked around the cave, and focused on Blem scraping lichen off the walls. The little mice chittered about but always close to Blem. Much to her relief they kept their distance from her. "Say Blem...why did you help me anyways."

Blem stopped scraping and seemed to think very deeply about it. Before Elia could ask Blem again he gave his reply. "It was the right thing to do." Blem resumed scraping the lichen.

"Rescuing me brought you trouble."

"Trouble would've found me regardless."

"What if I'm trouble Blem?" She didn't intend on getting thrown out, but she wanted to know what his response would be.

For the second time he stopped scraping. Now she would have a good measure on the kind of man he was. "If it came to that," he paused to look her right in the eyes. "If it came to that, I would try to reason with you. Make no mistake though; this is my home and this is my life. You threaten either and I'll kill you. And if you do kill me, you best believe I'll make you work for it." Blem broke his stare and resumed his task. Elia couldn't help but feel impressed at his conviction.

"What will you do once you feel better?" Blem asked.

"Once I feel better I'm going to take some of these weapons and go kill those slavers," Elia spat.

Blem let out a sigh of relief, "Whew that's good. I'd hate to take them on by myself."

Elia blinked, "By yourself?"

"Well yeah I'm going to go fight after." Blem replied matter of factly.

"Why?!" Elia asked completely dumbfounded.

Blem paused and glanced between her and his lichen several times. "If I tell you why you'll think I'm crazy."

Elia shook her head, "I already think you're crazy Blem."

"Oh good that means you won't judge me so severely for what I'm about to tell you." Blem dropped his scraping knife and stood on a rock as though it were a podium.

"U-uh no that's fine Blem," Elia tried protesting to no avail. She listened to his  tale about his near death experience and the goblin afterlife. He didn't name any deities she noted, but he did mention his vows. "So, no backing down from a fight, take the fight to your enemy, and if your god calls upon you you'll answer?"

"Yeah that's it."

"I can't say I believe you Blem. But you seem to believe it so I suppose that counts for something." What it counted for exactly, Elia wasn't sure. Still she didn't feel the need to look a gift goblin in the mouth so she let it be. Pleck returned later that evening, a small deer slung over his shoulder.

"I tracked this one yesterday. He nearly gave me the slip but I caught em." Pleck butchered the animal outside the cave. When Elia fell asleep he was still preparing cuts. When she woke up he was already in the process of tanning the deer's hide. She watched him work. In turn Pleck watched Blem train. Pleck slept in the middle of the day, but Blem continued training. Even though Elia wasn't good with a bow, she could tell Blem was improving.

Another day had gone by and it was still uneventful. Elia felt strong enough to stand on her own and walk around. Blem continued his training. Sometimes he dove into the tall grass or shadows whenever she was around. She usually managed to find him but his ability to move around so stealthily unnerved her a bit. Whenever they locked eyes Elia would scowl at Pleck. She hadn't forgotten his comment about how she might not be worth the trouble. He scowled back but he never said anything.

Later that night they all sat around campfire. At this point Blem sprung his plan.

"So you want to go into the slaver's camp and kill them all?" Pleck questioned.

"Of course," Blem replied.

"Is this wise?" Pleck asked.

"I have no choice really. Besides if we just left it alone they would come for us eventually."

"I agree," Elia chimed in, "if we wait any longer they'll have to send out a search party. It might take them awhile to find runaway slaves, but this is probably getting egregious."

"You're going, in your condition?" Pleck countered.

"Blem and I were going regardless. Whether or not you want to come along is up to you."

Pleck let out a sigh. "So be it..."

Elsewhere, Dragon's Tomb, Capital of the Dragonhall kingdom...

"Princess, the King calls for you." The royal page²A page was typically a royal servant. They were often young and did various duties for their masters. These could range from cleaning, delivering messages and helping their master (or lord) suit up for battle. Pages aren't to be confused with squires. The reason why is because Squires are the apprentices of knights, whereas pages are strictly servants. Although when a page comes of age, they can become squires. stood outside her room. Ymira let out a groan as she did her eyeliner.

"Tell father I'm busy," It wasn't the whole truth, she wasn't busy per se but she certainly didn't feel like sitting around the dinner table again. 

"The King would prefer not to wait." the page replied.

Ymira's eye twitched. "I'll be right out." She walked out of her opulent room with gritted teeth. Her father never called on his other children so rudely. The prince was free to whore around as he saw fit. Her "sisters" likewise had the same liberties to do as they pleased. Only Ymira was called upon to preform task unbefitting of her station. The taming of the city states of Pallick and Claus being the most recent examples. The only saving grace she had was the fact she could command an army. It was an odd talent for a proper to lady have, she would casually admit to those who might ask. But it was a natural instinct she was allowed to hone. Although she knew that instinct was the only reason she was being kept around at all.

When she entered the hall she found a large majority of the court waiting for her. Lords and ladies, knights and squires, guards and bards, it seemed like almost everyone worth knowing was here. Either something big was going to happen, or it already did. Ymira presented herself to her father. Unlike Ymira, most of the nobility in this court were half-dragon or draconic in lineage. She had the misfortune of being a bastard. A skilled bastard, but a bastard nonetheless. Her father was half-dragon, half-human, a demi-human as they were called.

"You're late," he said brusquely. He looked like a king, a strong face with an equally strong body. His draconic features only enhanced this perception as his golden scaled tail tapped the ground impatiently, his golden wings taut as if ready to spring.

"Forgive my impertinence my lord. I was getting ready."

"For nothing important I assume." The court chuckled and she could hear a few soft spoken jeers among the crowd.

"I disagree," everyone grew quiet. "Every meeting with my father is always important." That kept the crowd quiet. She was used to the back talk by now, the constant stream of humiliation. But she always had a way to bite back, and now seeing her father's fist tighten like a vice brought her a low sort of satisfaction. "Wouldn't you agree brother?" She kicked herself; once again her mouth ran a bit faster than her mind.

Prince Grendall looked surprised. He was handsome, a younger version of her father, with almost none of his intelligence. Suddenly Prince Grendall got a smarmy look in his eye. "Well you're a bastard so it's only half as important." The court erupted into open laughter. She had to admit, even though he was rather stupid he could be quick on his feet when it came to quips. Still, it stung to be called out like this, doubly so in front of the court. She played along, her fake laugh another finely tuned weapon in her social arsenal.

The king glared at the prince. Grendall shrunk in his seat, and the crowd cowed itself. He turned to Ymira in a furor, "You lead an army of bootlickers and whoresons and suddenly you think you're the next Grammalian the Conqueror! I tire of your ignobility, your constant backbiting and malingering. If you didn't have royal blood in you I'd have you killed you by now." Now Ymira felt the anger rise in her throat.

"My mother had nary a drop of royal blood yet you fucked her all the same! Since when has blood ever stopped you from hurting someone!?" Dead silence. Everyone was mortified. Even her 'siblings' couldn't bare to face the spectacle before them. Ymira stood defiant while her father gaped.

He regained his bearings, his golden eyes black with anger. The king spoke through gritted teeth, "Your mother was a whore. Much like you, she was a mistake. Unlike you, I put her in her place. From this day forward you will sleep in the stables, and your servants will not be yours any longer. As for your 'army' consider it disbanded." The king sat back down on his throne.

Ymira wasn't sure how to feel. Stupid certainly but she felt a type of anger she hasn't felt in a long time. Then it hit her. This was remarkably unfair. She toiled for her kingdom for ounces of respect while her do nothing siblings got a free pass to do whatever, whenever. Fools like her father could get away with whatever they wanted as long as their status, their wealth, their breeding justified it. Why should she fight for it when others got it for free? Ymira didn't look particularly upset. She was too lost in her epiphany to elicit any strong emotions. Instead to the casual observer she just looked blank, not staring at anything at all.

"Are you listening?" the king spat.

This snapped Ymira out of her trance. "Of course, I'll go move my bed right away," she replied in unususally cheerful tone. Ymira might lost this encounter, but she was certain she had an ace up her sleeve...