Vraz set up a stall while Wort groaned and mumbled about working. It took a bit of bribery, unbeknownst to the irate dungeon, to even get this level of cooperation from the stubborn hobgoblin. With just an offering of a full meal, Wort agreed to do anything asked of him. Already a couple of goblins who should be doing other things gathered nearby in a crowd.

  If only Strum was here, Vraz’s slender green fingers tapped against the wooden counter. Soon the stand would open, the toad-like goblin drifted back and forth between the kitchen and the stall hauling the dishes of fish they’d be selling.

  Wort grew progressively more irate with each trip, his toadlike face settling into a deep frown. Whatever Regis kept saying to the hobgoblin as he transported supplies, weighed on him. Tension mounted as the grumbling turned to loud complaining, culminating with the hobgoblin intentionally dropping a plate. Vraz felt a headache coming on.

  His job did not include smoothing over bruised egos or people-pleasing. Strum should be the one managing the sale of food and directing the hobgoblin, not him.

  Vraz paused his tapping, lazily watching the last couple of plates of fish slam into the wood near him. The toad-like goblin snorted to accompany the completion of his job. At least I’m not the only one with a short temper. The scrawny goblin rubbed his eyes and took a serious look at Wort.

  “You’re done, sit down and take a nap, I’ll tell you when I need you to grab more,” Vraz gave a gesture towards a pile of discarded cloth near the stall, a splash of beige and faded colors. Wort didn’t move.

  "Why like that!?” the angry hobgoblin gestured towards the cave tunnel leading to the kitchen.

  “What?” asked Vraz.

  “Why sparkly-stone so MEAN?!” Wort practically snarled the words, flecks of spit hit Vraz’s face. Disgusted, the scrawny goblin wiped off the saliva and stood up. It seemed they needed a chat before finally getting down to business after all. Damnit.

  “Does it matter? You usually work for Strum, right?” Vraz saw that dumb head of the hobgoblin’s bob in agreement. “Ignore Chef. He’s not your problem. He’s mine.”

  “Every time Wort walk in, hear insult.”

  “Right…” Vraz sighed and drummed his hand on the table, shaking his head. “He’s just like that, don’t take it personally. Let’s just deal with what’s in front of us,” Vraz suggested, not wanting to insert himself into that particular headache. Taking each day a step at a time is how he’d gotten this far. Why cause issues?

  Wort looked like he wanted to argue more, so Vraz made his move. He cleared his throat, puffing out his chest. The smell of the food and commotion drew a crowd of curious goblins to the stand.

  Vraz made his way out in front, catching the attention of the crowd. Sensing that his chance to rant about the dungeon to Vraz disappeared, Wort simply mumbled to himself and settled into the cloth pile. Reclined like a king.

  “Attention! Attention! Yes—all of you!” Vraz began to yell out, straining his voice to flood outward and draw attention. One of the goblins in the crowd with bulging eyes occupied himself by shoving a finger up his nose. Seeing such a blatant imbecile, Vraz nearly stumbled over his words before they started. Things were different here. The Shadow-Axe tribe proved far dumber than his old home. Sometimes idiots picking their noses were just the right reminder of that fact.

  Taking a second to regain balance, Vraz coughed then continued. “Courtesy of Chef Regis, today we are serving a special dish. Baked River Sunfish, tasty enough to have you savages- er, the fine and discerning Shadow-Axe tribe drooling!” Vraz shouted, pounding on his chest, and then rushing to the stall to unveil one of the covered dishes.

  The smell of the flakey fish resting among stewed tomatoes and garlic wafted throughout the small cavern. True to his words, the nearest goblins began to drool, unconsciously stepping closer. Vraz gave them a pointed grin.

  “For the first time ever, payment options have changed. You can still pay with essence, but a truly accomplished goblin may instead pay with shinies!” Vraz let out a roar to the goblins watching. This announcement caused a rippling effect as the tribe muttered to one another. In terms of this savage tribe, shinies meant jewelry, coins, or anything that sparkled. Dumb slang for equally dumb goblins.

  No goblin liked giving essence in payment for food. The process felt intrusive and sapped away energy for a day or two. Before now, Strum never offered an alternative to them. The tribe began to scramble as some of them ran off to gather loot.

  Once word spread, goblins would ransack any unguarded hoards, leaving them in Regis’ coffers. Of course, Vraz expected some of the idiots would bring worthless polished stones. Part of his job was to sort the valuable and invaluable for Strum and Regis. Working as a merchant ticked him off a bit, and he’d rather cook in the kitchen with all this going on than be forced to sort through stones and gems.

  It took barely a moment after Vraz moved back behind the stall for a goblin to stumble up to it. The frail little savage held out his arm, eyes a bit fearful. Ah. Essence payment. With a nod, Vraz pulled out a red crystal, similar in hue and size to Regis.

  With a little guidance from Vraz, the drooling goblin brought the crystal to his chest and pressed it against the middle of his body. Where the core was on any living thing resided. The crystal gave off a faint glow, the goblin’s breath slowed and grew labored. A bead of sweat rolled off their green skull as they paid a full essence price.

  Truth be told, Vraz didn’t have a single clue how this system worked or why. Regis attempted to explain it several times, but the dungeon mumbo-jumbo went right over his head. Anything outside of cooking or taking advantage of these assholes rested outside the scope of his interest.

  The crystal cut off, Vraz gave the goblin a grin, collecting the crystal back from the wobbly greenskin, not bothering to wait for him to recover before pushing a plate of fish into his hand. “When you’re done, hand the plate to Wort over there,” Vraz explained. The dim goblin nodded, obviously not following his words.

  He knew full well half these plates would end up smashed on the cave floor. Fortunately, Vraz’s job did not include giving a fuck about that.

  “Um…” Strum muttered to himself, fidgeting with his elongated fingers. This new body took adjusting to. From the ashen digits to the way each step carried him further. When he moved with purpose, even Jilde struggled to keep pace. “C’mon… just a little further,” he muttered to the half-goblin-half-gremlin, who had gotten eerily silent as he pulled her by the wrist.

  She nodded, tight-lipped, and pressed closer as they tracked Pox and Yrx. Like he’d thought, the two of them went to see Mallik. Then, hardly ten minutes later they sprinted out of the cavern into the woods.

  If Strum wanted more influence over the tribe, it meant finding out the plans and machinations of the other two powerhouses. Up until now, Mallik proved far more reserved in his goals. The constant posturing of Rurk caused far more concern in Strum’s heart and presented an obvious threat. But to focus only on Rurk represented a mistake. What did the shady shaman want?

  Strum had hoped to overhear whatever the three were discussing, but an unknown instinct flared in him near the Shaman’s dwelling. As if he passed a certain threshold, he’d trigger something. So, that plan failed, leaving them in their current predicament.

  This was going to end in two ways. Either he and Jilde confronted them and pumped them for information, or they’d slip up somehow and provide all he needed to know. Either way, there wasn’t another goblin he’d rather have on his side than this loyal employee.

  "Uhm-Strum…” Jilde blushed and called his attention with a whisper. “Can you, um-can-you, hold-me-by-the-hand-instead?” she asked, tugging at his grip on her wrist and lowering it.

  Strum blinked in surprise and followed the request. Must have clutched her wrist far too hard. Poor girl. The new strength would take time to adjust to, in the meantime, he’d have to be careful. As he took her hand she let out a small yelp. “What’s wrong… are you uh… okay? And—keep it down—it’s important they don’t know we’re here,” He whispered rather urgently seeing Pox and Yrx pause ahead.

  “I’m fiiiinneeeeee,” Jilde squeaked out, pressing close to him as they crouched through some nearby underbrush. It didn’t seem that the two goblins ahead stopped at all from hearing them.

  He tilted his head as he watched Yrx begin to dig in a spot with Pox’s direction, tossing handfuls of dirt from some already disturbed ground. Chunks of ground flew at a rapid pace, with Pox kicking Yrx once in the ass for moving too slow. What in the name of the ground-father.

  Curiosity grew like a fire being tossed log after log, Yrx finally stopped digging and pulled out a pinewood box. The goblin set it between him and Pox then took off the lid to reveal black garments. Without pausing, Yrx handed Pox a set, and both began to dress.

  The cloth appeared made out of some combination of leather and wool. Goblin’s natural state was barely dressed, so to see these two shirtless idiots quickly switching and buttoning straps and shirts threw Strum through a confusing loop.

  Both finished dressing, letting Strum take a complete look at their outfits. An emblem of a purple phoenix marked them, setting off alarm bells in Strum’s head.

  Goblins were very tribal creatures. These two belonged to the Shadow-Axe tribe, while there was no such thing as a tribal uniform—the Shadow Axe’s symbol was a black axe stuck in a wooden stump—they did occasionally march to war carrying banners marked by the tribe’s symbol. It was a source of pride. Only another tribe conquering theirs would force a goblin to represent a different tribe’s emblem.

  He felt his heartbeat quicken, though, no sweat formed in his palms. “What-the-!?” Jilde began to spew, reaching for her bow. Strum caught her and shook his head. Though, he could understand it. Betraying your tribe amounted to one of the most grievous sins a goblin could commit.

  What tribe would have such elaborate uniforms? If he allowed Jilde to slay them here to pay for their crimes, this entire trip and however Mallik connected to it would remain hidden.

  Now fully clad, Pox and Yrx dragged their way further into the forest. Ranging quickly outside of the Shadow-Axe territory. The trees grew taller, the woods darker as they entered the Ancient Woods. A forbidden place, on account of the harsh predators that littered its landscape.

  Yet these two seemed to know their way. Not even pausing as they followed a game trail further into the dangerous woods.

  Strum checked himself, realizing he didn’t even bother to grab a knife, and sighed. Really? What kind of goblin was he? He shifted the blame onto Regis for the sudden transformation. That was the reason he was so thrown off. Not at all because he’d grown lazy in his new position as a manager.

  Erected in the middle of the forest sat ruins. Three half-destroyed towers, two collapsed walls remained of what once had been a fortress. Monsters of all sorts of different species mingled in it. All of them were wearing the same insignia and style of uniform as Yrx and Pox.

  Goblins, trolls, orcs, even a couple of humans. Banners with the same purple phoenix hung down from the sides of the broken walls.

  Strum tensed further and pulled Jilde away from the converted ruins, watching as Pox and Yrx greeted the monsters and walked in. Normally, a bead of sweat would roll down his forehead, but his body seemed incapable. But that didn’t help with the nerves, nor his rapidly increasing heart rate. He dragged her away, intending to make a quick pace back to the tribe.

  There were only two things that could gather so many different monsters and force them into cooperation. Dungeons. Or, if his fear was right, something much worse.

  A Dark Lord was moving into the area.