In the morning it took Jonathan a moment to figure out what was different while he lay there tangled in the sheets of his pallet. He’d managed to avoid being killed in his sleep of course, but something was different about this morning compared to the dozens of other times he’d woken up in the warehouse. It was quiet, but not quite silent of course. A city with hundreds of thousands of dwarves was incapable of real silence, but the roar he was used to was now only a background hum. Normally the sounds of industry beat relentlessly in the background. Hammers fell in forges, steam whistled in pipes, and trains rumbled in and out of the cavern. Today all of that was still. 

Even with Boriv’s warning that today everyone was on the hunt, Jonathan had to admit that he hadn’t really believed him, but it was hard to argue with what he was hearing. He’d figured that everyone had meant, ‘everyone who didn’t have something better to do like a certain human who just sat around everyday day’ along with anyone else they could spare. Not - you know, everyone. Mobilizing a whole city and stopping the lives of countless dwarves just because a couple goblins had been spotted seemed like a bit of an overreaction to him, but it was probably another part of Dwarven culture he’d never really understand. Jonathan quickly dressed and was waiting in the alley before Boriv arrived with the promised sword and a warm pastry stuffed with fatty bacon. Dwarves didn’t seem to know how to eat a meal that wasn’t half meat, and Jonathan was sure he would have put on several pounds already if his master hadn’t brought him such meager portions so often.

“Here ye are lad. Belt that on and then we’ll get to the killin.” Boriv said. 

“Does this mean we finally get to explore the rest of the city?” Jonathan asked hopefully as put on the sword belt that was only just barely large enough to fit him. “I mean - those dirty goblins - they could be anywhere, right?” 

“Aye. We’ll all be searchin high and low today,” Boriv said, “but we’ve all got our own spots to check, and ours won't take us anywhere near the city core. Ye and me? We’ve got a railyard to search afterall, since every part of the city should be searched by those who know it best.” Jonathan hid his disappointment by keeping his mouth full of breakfast. He’d hoped that today was the day to see what other wonders the stone men had up their sleeves, but sadly it was not to be. Instead he ate while the old dwarf talked and by the time they’d reached the rails, he had the plan. They were going to examine line nine - check all the coal bins and the water tower for the line before they checked the last mile or two of the approach to Khaghrumer proper. It seemed like a simple enough job, and Jonathan couldn’t decide if he hoped they found a goblin or if he hoped they didn’t. 

The rail line itself was clean - even under the loading docks, and beneath the bins, and what started as an adventure quickly became just another bit of boring drudgery. The normally tight-lipped Boriv passed the time by telling him more about goblins then he’d ever wanted to know. It was funny, because normally he wouldn’t spare a sentence when a word or a grunt would do, but when it came to the ‘gobblers’ as dwarves called them, he just told story after story. How they were a constant menace to any place that had food, water, and darkness, and how they would have risen up and devoured the whole world by now were it not for the sun and the hard work of generations of his kin. 

“I don’t know Boriv - goblins are a menace, sure, but they haven’t been seen anywhere near Dalmarin in years,” Jonathan said doubtfully as he finished crawling around behind a few stacks of boxes. “They seem pretty rare anywhere in the empire these days if the merchants can be believed. It seems like more of an underground problem than anything else.”

“Ye think so, do ye lad?” Boriv growled. “Then why do ye think that no men live beyond the shield lands? Why does the empire stop at the mountains instead of spreading to the sea?”

“The empire doesn’t need wastelands just to look bigger on maps,” Jonathan replied, not really sure what the dwarf was getting at. “Besides, that land is full of beasts and hobgoblins. They’re totally different than—”

“Wrong.” Boriv said. “What do they even teach ye in your human schools? Didn’t yer dad pay for fancy tutors for ye and all that? What do ye think gobblers grow into exactly?” 

“Why would they grow into anything different?” Jonathan asked. “Men don’t become elves if they live long enough.” 

“No, that’s true enough,” Boriv reflected, leading them on to the next suspect bit of track. “But gobblers do. Gobs become hobs, and hobs become trogs - trolls as you humans say, if you let them live long enough that is.” 

“I guess that makes a sort of sense, since all of them are green skins, but they act totally different.” Jonathan thought about the dwarf’s words. “Are you sure about that? Do you have proof?”

“Of course we have proof. Ye think dwarves are just known for confabulation and tall tales?” Boriv snapped back angrily. “Gobs spread like wildfire, and eat everything they can fit in their grubby little mouths. The strongest and the toughest - they survive long enough to grow into hobs. Hobgoblins as ye call them are stronger than a dwarf, bigger than a man, and smart enough to hunt in packs. There’s few things more dangerous than a rampaging tribe of hobs, leaving nothing but death and gobblers in their wake.” They were past anything on this line that could conceivably hide anything as large as a goblin so while they spoke they walked to the tunnel entrance. 

When it loomed large enough that the darkness became ominous Jonathan finally pulled out the sword Boriv had given him. It was smaller than the swords his father or brother wore, and meant for stabbing instead of slashing, but it made him feel better to hold it. “So what about trolls? If your theory is correct then wouldn’t they be running around in warbands too, leaving hobgoblins behind them?”

“Let’s hope the sword ye are holding is sharper than your wits lad,” Boriv smirked. He’d been holding a crossbow for a while now his sword stayed on his belt. “and that ye know how to use it better too. Hob bands get smaller as the warriors get tougher and more aggressive. Eventually there’s just the one left - usually because it killed the rest of his pack. After that - well, it just gets bigger and meaner until it’s less like a hob and more like a tiger or a shark. It’s just a pure solitary predator after that. It will eat whatever crosses its path. Gob. Man. Doesn’t matter. Only its hunger matters. In the end it's just a real big gobbler with the strength of ten men.” 

“I see,” Jonathan answered, even though he really didn’t. He was having trouble tracking the conversation now that they had crossed into the tunnel. Even though this was starting to feel like a wild goose chase, something about his master’s words made the darkness seem alive with monsters. Hobgoblins and Trolls were almost never seen in the empire anymore though, and truly fantastic monsters like a griffon or a chimera hadn’t been seen inside the shieldlands in a generation. Down here though - in a city that never slept and heat that never stopped, it was easy to believe that down here monsters could be lurking in the shadows. The lightstone Boriv used was almost too weak to be of any real help for Jonathan though. His human eyes saw only darkness, and so his human mind filled in the rest with everything they’d been talking about. That shadow there became a nest of goblins until his eyes adjusted enough to see that it was just a crevice in the stone, and that one there looked like the slavering maw of a troll - at least until it turned out to be nothing more than an outcropping. 

That became the game for a while. Looking at shadows and trying to figure out which monster was going to eat him. It was like looking at clouds with his friends and deciding what animal they most looked like, but scarier. At least until he looked at one that looked suspiciously like a goblin, and suddenly he heard the crack of Boriv’s crossbow as a bolt impaled the shadow that Jonathan had just been studying. It immediately slumped forward with a sharp shriek of pain. After that, the only part of it that moved was the slowly spreading pool of black blood underneath it. 

He was horrified. He’d actually been within feet of a goblin and hadn’t realized it. For a moment Jonathan was overwhelmed by the fear that it could have ripped his throat out, he felt almost paralyzed by it, but apparently that wasn’t what the old dwarf with him saw. 

“Good eye lad. Now keep a look out while I reload,” the dwarf said quietly, putting the crossbows stirrup on the ground so he could pull the string back. “These buggers rarely travel alone, so if you find one there’s usually at least two more lurking nearby.”

Jonathan looked up at his master, trying to figure out if he was trying to reassure his young human ward, or if he had genuinely not seen his panic when he saw a quick movement behind Boriv as something suddenly jumped out of a crag in the rock face at them. Jonathan didn’t think, or try to swing his sword. He just held it up above the dwarf’s head, like a pike waiting to meet the charge of some devilish cavalry. It was a simple strategy done on instinct, but it worked better than Jonathan could have hoped - at least until the goblin’s inertia drove it down the length of the sword, impaling completely so that it died howling in pain and flailing around inches from Jonathan’s face. When it was done all he could do was let the sword tilt forward so that the creature slid off the blade with a wet thud.  

After that, Boriv took one more shot, then pulled out his own sword, walking a bit further up the tunnel alone to investigate before coming back. Jonathan didn’t go with him though. He couldn’t. He just stood there in shock looking at the remains of the monster he’d killed and replaying the moment over and over in his mind. “Looks like that’s the last of em here at least lad.” Boriv said, sounding genuinely cheerful. “That was quick thinking there, now let me check those arms. Looks like that gobbler got ye a time or two before he finally stopped squirming.”

The idea that Jonathan had been cut at all was a surprise to him. He didn’t feel the wounds at all until the dwarf started poking and prodding him. Once he did though, his arms burned in a dozen places. “Ye’ll be fine lad - we’ll wash 'em and bandage ‘em and in a couple days ye’ll be good as new. I promise.” Before they walked back Boriv cut off the ears of the goblins to bring back so their kills could be tracked and recorded. Dwarves liked to track and record everything they could - including apparently, the amount of goblin’s slain. 

On the way back, Jonathan’s arms gleamed wet and red in the light of the city. Most of the cuts were superficial, but he still looked like he’d been on the losing end of a bag of cats. “I want ye to know that I won’t forget that ye bled for my city. Ye’re a good lad Jon.” Boriv said solemnly on their walk back, “I won’t forget and no one else will either. I’ll make sure of it.”