Chapter 31: The Angry Hand of Man

“As I walk through the shadow of a valley of death, I pray that I am strong enough to see the light again. I pray that you will guide us back home. 

I never hear anything from you, I never see these signs like Mother said you give. Do I have to shepherd my family through this place? Have you abandoned us, Great Father?

I don’t want another day…”

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.44, Goblins

     The sheer amount of noise that came from the Family as they worked to haul the wall material to the village was nearly deafening. Cori and Knoll took command for me for a moment while I sat down to think. ‘Too much to do, I don’t think we are going to be able to do this in time.’ I thought to myself. 

     I wasn’t paying enough attention to notice Caleb sitting next to me a few moments later. Snow slowly gathering in my hair. I jumped when he set a heavy hand on my shoulder, followed by him putting a mug of something hot in my hands. Scent thick and rich, sweet and hardy, “What is it?” With a hoarse voice, I asked. 

     “Spiced cider, I figured you could use the warming up.” He said with a strange tone.

     “What?” I was too tired, my patience running thin. 

     “You haven’t seen Galus in its full might, what Yorm attacked was surprisingly light for what they were protecting.” Having told him what happened, he seemed just about as horrified as I was. He knew more about the political climate outside of our backwater corner of the world than I did, the look in his eye told me everything I needed to know. The great machines of fate beginning to turn, as we put the last cogs in motion. “I fear your wall building will not be enough to stop anything significant.”

     “I have to do something. All the raiders will be prepared to take everyone and flee if the fighting breaks out. If we have to fight.” He cut me off.

     “You and the rest of your people will be slaughtered. Galus is one of the four Major Countries left in the world, there is a reason they were able to survive along with Huron and Mhuzelt in the wake of the war with my people.” He sighed, running his hand over his face. 

     “But, us building the wall should show them that we are no savages, the roads have been quieter than ever.” I started. 

     “It’s a phenomenal place to start to show the world that you are no monsters. But, I’m sorry, it’s a naive thought. They will see that wall as a show of force, a defiance they will pounce on. Illy, I know you have a few guns, I know the Family knows how to use them, but you and the rest of them still fight with crossbows and knives and spears. You are not a threat to the Galcian Military. They are a modern force full of weaponry that they don’t even need to be within a mile of them for them to kill you.” He paused for a moment, a distant look in his eyes. “I know all too well what the engines of war here are capable of, far too well.”

     I felt my ears drop further than they already had, the dejection setting deep roots. “I won’t tell them that yet. Letting them build this wall is giving them a certain amount of hope. I’ll give the order to flee before they show up then.”

     “Spoken like a politician.” He squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. “I think that is for the best.” As he rose, knees cracking like a fire with wet wood, I grabbed his hand. 

     “We need to hide this place, all the traffic from here to the village has left quite a trail leading to you. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you if this all…” I couldn’t finish the thought, I didn't want to think about it. 

     “All goes wrong?” Caleb’s voice was somber to my ears. Kneeling back down, “You have given me a new chance at life, you have given me a new family I wouldn’t trade for the world. If it all comes to the end, I will be right there by your side.” 

     And before I could say anything, he rose and left me sitting there. The cold wind from the stalled-out hurricane brought me back to my senses. Walking over to Cori and Knoll, I began helping with the building project as well. 

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.45, Michèle

     The static over the comms felt like time moved far slower. The words just wouldn’t register in Michèle’s ears, it just couldn’t be. “Repeat that for me would you?” 

     Lafayette’s voice sounded in his ears again, weighted down by the knowledge that the inevitable was finally upon them. “We haven’t heard from our advance party in days. They did not appear at their appointed time at the check-in. Nor did they appear at the designated relay point in the Outer Fields.” 

     The soldiers standing outside his office exchanged nervous glances as a very loud, very audible crack sounded as Michèle cracked the top of his desk with a fist. The comms relay remained silent, waiting for a response while the Chancellor tried to get his thoughts together. All that planning he had done in the hopes that this wouldn’t happen. All the effort it took to consolidate the Military in the east just outside Huron, the new fleet of ships being built just for this purpose. 

     Battle plans, and theatres of war raced through his mind. Where to stage each fortification, where would be weakest, and what would need reinforcements. Supply lines and weapon depots, where they could leverage supplies from allies. He needed to calm down, he needed to sort out what happened first. Though he already knew deep in his bones, that Delegation was dead. 

     “Has King Berthelot been informed?” Michèle said quietly, not trusting to raise his voice any louder. 

     “No, I assumed you would be telling him while I put together a team to hunt down what happened.” Lafayette’s flat voice responded. 

     Michèle didn’t respond as he opened the door and walked down the hall. His guard followed behind him, their footsteps echoing off the cool stone walls as if they were the inevitable march of war. He thought back to his family back east, would they be safe?

     He shook his head, he needed to tell himself that the Caliphate might be diplomatic about this whole thing. Though his skeptical nature forced his mind to tell himself that they wouldn’t. The party entered through the side exit leading into the main chamber where Lucas was conducting court for the day. 

     He waited while Lucas went from conversation to conversation, speaking about taxes and manufacturing rights of the newest inventions of the Forgemaster. Talks about the political situation in the east caught the Chancellor’s ears in particular. How things seemed to be cooling down at least a little, the Lamia finally admitting they may have overacted to the Huronian Garrison in their midst. 

     The worry only intensified in Michèle’s mind, ‘Oh yes, this is going to be well-received’ he thought to himself. Lucas finally noticed his Chancellor standing off to the side of the court. Immediately noticing the worry on his face, despite the decades-long practice of putting on a poker face for the sake of his men.

     “Chancellor Lafleche, Please join us. What has you looking like you saw a ghost?” Lucas said jovially, an act for the Press off to the sides on the other side of the Chamber. 

     He didn’t need the press to find out about this yet. The Royalty and representatives still waiting their turn to speak to King Berthelot turned to look his way. Scratching the side of his neck, he composed himself before walking under the bright lights of the chamber. “We need to speak in private, Your Majesty. It concerns a matter of… national security.” 

     That got his attention, the slight pause before he foolishly blurted out ‘national security’, was not missed by Lucas. Only the slight change in expression gave away his worry. “Very well, my Advisors will be continuing court for me in my stead. Please be patient as no decrees or judgments will take place without me.” 

     They retreated to a secure room behind the main Chamber, the thick steel door shutting behind them without a noise. The room was one of the command centers for the Palace, a luxurious one all things considered. Humble for Lucas, though any lay person would call it a world-class suite. The King sat behind the desk, pushing maps and plans aside while he poured himself a glass of rich red wine. 

     Michèle waited, standing at attention arms behind his back. He still quietly opened the comms connection to Lafayette to both him and Lucas. Rubbing his temples, the king finally spoke. “I assume something is wrong with the Delegation? You need to work on how you speak in public Michèle. A simple statement would have been better, you gave the press something to talk about.” 

     Lafayette responded before the Chancellor could, “We haven’t heard from the Delegation in days. They missed both check-ins.”

     The sound of Lucas setting his glass back down quietly might as well have been a thunderclap. “Could you explain to me what happened? Is there any news?” The tone in his voice left no room for imagination as to what he was thinking.

     “General Lafayette has already put together a team to investigate the issue. I will also be sending a scouting party to search the area.” The Chancellor responded, he would not be seen as incompetent in front of Lucas. 

     He sighed, long and suffering. “Let us assume they are dead then. We should work with the worst possible scenario, we have discussed this endlessly at this point.”

     “We already have seventy percent of our forces stationed outside of Huron, we are already setting up a blockade around Estile cutting off access to the Eastern channel.” 

     “Yes, yes.” Lucas said with a wave of his hand. “That was something we were already doing. Show of force to the Caliphate was always something we were planning on.” 

     “I will also begin the process to set up a meeting with the Sultan. Perhaps we may have a diplomatic approach to this.” Michèle said hopefully. 

     “Let us hope so, I fear that this war will be the one to bring down Huron for good. They never recovered after the last Great War, not fully.” Lafayette added. “This should only take a few days to figure out what happened, with any luck they will have just gotten lost.”

     “Don’t be a fool, General. Childish naivety doesn’t suit you.” Lucas said coldly. 

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.48, Goblins

      Despite only few days having passed, Caleb didn’t get much sleep as he became the defacto source of protection to the clan. Having conscripted every available hand to work his forges, the armoring they had been working was modified to meant to deflect bullets rather than the melee that the goblins would have expected. Shocked even moreso when they learned that only the City guard carried the swords and “lesser” equipment they were anticipating. 

     Ilgor, Ghet, Cori and Knoll all listened closely as Caleb told them exactly what they were going to be up against. Letting them finally know he was a former war criminal in the eyes of his nation, and why he knew what he did. Speaking of Galus favoring frontline tactics, tight squads of riflemen take cover and laid down suppressive fire. As they would be held at a position where they wouldn’t be able to retaliate to any great measure, artillery could possibly be used to clear the trees of cover and flush the goblins out into the open into what the Galcian Military called “killing fields". 

     He went on to describe more that while their cover would be mowed down by the gatling guns and artillery fire, lines of snipers would pick off those that tried to run from cover. “I have seen that tactic, far too many times… I saw it when I was just a boy in the last Great War, I saw it in the war games they played with Huron and the Empire. Always, the Galus forces were able to hold their positions without losing footing.” He took a deep draught of the hardy spirit that Knoll handed him. 

     “Is there any way to keep them from setting up their line?” Cori asked, rolling out an old map they had of the forest. “There is a valley between the OuterFeilds and the river we could stage an ambush in.” 

     “You’d be able to slow them, yes. But, you’d need a much larger force, and a much better place to ambush them. I know you spoke of dropping on them from the canopy, I suppose you could take down a few squads at a time and retreat to the forest while they retaliate. But, expect to lose bodies in each round.” Caleb spoke solemnly, inspecting the small rifle barrel one of the raiders had just finished forging. Nodding he handed it back and told them to mount it in the stock and that would be at least one more gun. 

     “We have around a hundred firearms, would we be able to pick off their leadership?” Ilgor asked, gaining herself an odd look from the other veteran Raiders. “What, a snake without a head isn’t so much of a threat.” 

      “You could, the Galcian Military Officers all wear a spiked helmet made of brass and steel. Highly ornamented, though they are readily made to deflect even heavy rounds. You’d need to hit them between the eyes, to down them. But, I’d caution that action, their Military is trained to slash and burn without commanders. A Scorched earth policy I’m afraid. You’d be better off taking down their engineers, and only the upper brass. Lesser officers won’t do much beyond pissing off their subordinates.” He ran his hand over his face. 

      “Well with that being said, we could trail them through a few valleys then.” Knoll huffed out, the scent of spirits heavy on his breath. He hadn’t handled Kari’s death any better than Ilgor had. He ran his finger along a route between many valleys leading them into an open field just outside the farmlands. “I say we have our forces lead them on a chase, through each valley pick them off from the trees. Once we get them to the open field, let them set up and try to flank them from behind.”

      “Not a bad plan, if they were idiots. They know more about you than you’d think. While I may not be privy to their intelligence, I am fully aware that you goblins have been raiding this forest for a very long time. Your tactics are going to be very well known to them. Though…” The old man looked over to Ilgor. 

      “That thing your people’s voice does… grabs the attention. Are there any other casters in the Clan that can do that? Or can you quickly teach a few to play decoy? Do you trust a few to stay alive?”

      Her mood darkened, the air around them growing colder. Ice already creeping up her heavy winter coat. “I will not devalue the lives of my people to decoys and scapegoats.” 

      “Then teach me.” Cori said, placing a hand on hers. “I know you can make your voice cling to things, I saw what you did with Yorm. Could you make it cling to their minds instead? How hard could it be, even if it kills who I was trying it on, isn’t that the point?”

      The fury died on her face, replaced with an odder expression. Covering her face with a gloved hand. “It’s not a hard trick. I’ve been told that we all have that gift, we can all control sound to a degree.” 

      “Do we now?” Ghet said, crossing his arms. “How did you figure that out?” 

      “A Sorcerer that knows far too much…”

      Despite days having passed, every last one of the Raiders having been given some form of armor tailored to deflect bullets, at least in the center mass. Every last crossbow and bow having been found with an endless bounty of bolts and arrows being churned out by the Family. The few guns being handed out to the marksmen of the Clan, Til being the sharpest crack-shot amongst them all. He was drilling each of them on placement with moving targets. 

      Cori had learned quickly, her voice was nothing compared to the Priestess, but still potent according to Caleb. Managing to grab at bears, a few of the Harpies that had come to assist at Ilgor’s request to Sh'ril. She had hopes of using them as scouts, though she wasn’t sure if they’d be as useful as she would hope. Cori had been practicing on everything that would let her, quickly able to use that magic to at least an effective degree. She had already picked up a trick where she could make people believe they had thought something. 

      Knoll and Ghet pounced on that knowledge, planning on targeting the officers to make bad decisions with their soldiers. Maybe just maybe they’d survive this. Caleb was quick to point out that the Military wasn’t likely going to fall for this chase, or many of the ambushes, but it was what they were good at. They’d pick off key targets from a distance and retreat to the trees and heavy snow covered brush. It was a slim chance, but then again, it was better than nothing. 

      She sat perched a top on the bluffs overlooking the fields below out toward the City. The calm before the storm, this waiting, this stillness, she wasn’t a fan of it. Feeling the anxiety, the blood pulsing through her veins like syrup, her heart beating heavy and hard. “You said I always hide when you are awake.” Her voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Like a ghost in the snow, the Corpse Woman strolled out of the thick drifts as if they weren’t there. 

     Ilgor, having seen this specter more and more, was no longer alarmed at seeing her. Though she still shuddered as it wrapped its boney tail around her waist. “Why do you do that?” She asked, though a certain amount of calm washed over her at this thing’s touch. 

     “I am what I am, I will not change my habits.” It responded, though Ilgor noticed its eyes were finally not shrunken, regaining their color. The deep royal purple of her own people. 

     “You’ve never said what you are. How come you appeared after my Ceremony?” Figuring to try her luck. 

      “It takes quite a bit of effort on my part to speak to you, I am still weak. I found you, and found hope.” It responded while sitting next to her. 

      “That doesn’t answer the question at all.” Ilgor glared at the Corpse Woman. 

      It giggled in a girlish way, but its emaciated frame made it sound harsh and painful. “I am someone you’ve always known, yet have never met. I suppose you could say, it’s like returning home after having been away for a very long time. Things are different than I remember, you are different than I remember.” 

      “Things are going to change, that's for sure. I fear our people will be gone in these coming days.” Ilgor rested her head on her knees. 

      “Darkest nights, they always seem to last for eons. The battle on the horizon, the fight one must face yet knows the odds are stacked against them. A fool's errand. Sweet child.” Ilgor remembered back to what The Sorcerer had said. ‘Does she call you Cursed One, Sweet Child?...’ “While you may think there is no dawn on the horizon, there is still light.”

       Turning, Ilgor noticed yet again how this Corpse looked so much like the other goblins. Only the tail was off, and her ears were slightly wrong. “Where is this light I’m not seeing then?”

       “Everyone always focuses on that horizon to see the sun rise again. Yet, the darker the nights, the brighter the stars…” With those words, a gust of wind buffeted the bluff she sat on. The dusting of snow obscuring the view below, when Ilgor looked back, she was gone. 

*** 

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.50, Galus Scouting Party

     “This damned fog isn’t right, I just know it.” The older veteran said to the commander, trying his damnedest to see past the soup that cloaked the entire forest. 

     “We were told by Michéle that the friendly forces from those little monsters was a Priestess of no small amount of power. Maybe the Witch is doing this.” The Commander responded, examining the deep cuts to the trees around the site they were searching. 

      “Maybe, but I thought that Sightless Hunter only told so much. I never saw any mention of it in the mission papers, you’d think it would be pertinent information if we had to deal with a powerful Caster.” The old man responded with a huff. He too noticed the deep furrows in the earth and trees. 

     “Not mission critical, one potent Caster will not dissuade the King or the Chancellor from doing anything.” The snow print on their Ghillie suits barely made any sound as they searched. Hardly even disturbing the snow itself. The Chancellor had made the decision to hold off on any Military movement until they had found out what happened to the Delegation. Though, the court nearly exploded when diplomatic solutions were brought up for review to a select few individuals. 

     “They said the same thing about the Heroine of Huron.” The old man pressed a hand to his face. “I don’t think these are claw marks of Griffons or Serpent Beasts. The Giant Elk would have left scraps and far more blood.” 

     “The Sage of Huron had an Archon Stone to help with what she did. But, I agree with the remark about the claw marks not being real. These look like they were made by a tool, they don’t fade out like real claw marks.” The Commander stooped down to brush away the soft snow away from the trail, already seeing the deep ruts the heavy steam wagon made, only to stop and seemingly to go nowhere. 

     “What makes you think this Caster causing this fog doesn’t have an Archon Stone? It’s not impossible, they are well known raiders. They could have taken one from some wealthy pomp hoping to strike good graces with the Wayfares.” He began walking toward the Commander, purposely digging his heavy boots into the snow to see if he couldn’t drag anything from under cover. 

     “Those backwater vermin? They are only good for keeping the Guards on their toes. I seriously doubt we will have any real resistance if the Chancellor and General Laffeyette decide to attack them.” The Commander retorted with a derisive sneer. 

     “I’ve lived long enough to have seen them in action. I’ve lived long enough to hear the rumors swirling around the city of the Goblins starting to become a certain kind of friendly. I think you’d do well not to underestimate them, Sir.” The Commander looked back at his soldier, who had no delusions that he had just been treated like a child. “I also don’t like all this talk about spilling blood on the soil of Galus, especially not when we’d be basically shooting fish in a barrel. Leaves a bad taste in my mouth.” 

     “Are you telling me you wouldn’t follow orders if the command was given?” 

     There was an uncomfortably long time before the scout answered. “No, Sir.” 

     Knoll had seen the old man notice him, but didn’t say anything. He already knew he had found a bolt from their crossbows as he watched from the canopy of the trees. Slowly the man walked back to the other, handing the other the bolt. Knoll couldn’t help but wonder, he had replied to that Commander just moments after he was spotted. That brief eye-contact, an understanding between them.

     The two men had walked over to where the bolt had been and began sweeping away the snow. Uncovering the blood, uncovering the disturbed earth, uncovering where Yorm had careless told his Raiders to push the wagon over the nearby cliff. The two men had wandered over to see the wreck mostly submerged in the surf, but it being low tide, the thing was much easier to spot despite the fog and snow. 

     “I suppose we have an answer. That bolt is from Huron, that metal isn’t used around here. Brass. Well, let's sum this up. Faked claw marks, primitive weapons used, nothing valuable left behind, not even the bodies. Wagon over the cliff, disappeared in Goblin territory. The Foxes are in lockdown inside Port De Renard. There haven’t been reports of bandits in the area. I think we have our answer, Old Man.” The Commander stated with a pompous grin. 

     “Sir, with all due respect. Wipe that damned grin off your face. You clearly haven’t been listening to the people, the Goblins are trying to change. The public opinion is starting to turn, and yet here you are eager to draw blood.” The Old man retorted back, clearly not intimidated by a superior officer. 

     “And why not, they will have caused a war out of this act.” He responded back with a growl. “And I’m you Commanding Officer, show some respect.” 

     “I doubt all the information is here. I doubt that they are all guilty. Call it a hunch, but I think this is an unfortunate one off. And, If I may, Sir. No one should be so willing to spill blood with a smile. You end up being no different than what you seem to think they are.”

     Knoll returned to the village not soon after, not before destroying their trails back out of the forest. Let them get good and lost, the longer they took to get back to the city only bought them more and more time. Illy had perched herself in the Canopy just outside the main caves, humming an unearthly song that was pulling the sea fog inland. “Mother!”

     Though her song didn’t stop, it was strange to hear her voice in perfect clarity while her humming continued. “Yes, Knoll? What do you have to report?” Yorm looked up at her, sitting with his axe in his lap, looking much more offended that Knoll didn’t address him first. 

     “They found where Yorm attacked the Delegation. Botched job, Brother.” Knoll huffed out crossing his arms.

     “What are you blathering on about?” Yorm jumped to his feet, axe already at hand. 

     “Relax, Father.” Ilgor wasn’t pulling any punches these last few days, not worrying a single bit about showing just how much Kari had taught her, just how much this supposed Sorcerer had taught her. Even though her voice wasn’t directed at him, Knoll still felt the weight in her words like a ton of brinks. “Tell me what you say, please. Maybe we can do something about it.”

     “Two scouts, an older veteran and his Commanding officer. Full camouflage, hard to spot even for me. Reasoned out that Yorm’s axe strikes in the shape of Claw marks were fake, found a single missed bolt from his Crew’s Raiders. They uncovered the site of the attack with all its blood. Most damningly, the ruts left where the wagon was pushed over the edge of a cliff didn’t let the wagon be carried out to sea like I suppose Yorm was hoping. Made a pretty obvious trail.” Knoll reported, glaring at his Chief with a fire that could have brought an early spring. 

     Another one of the Family came running up to Ilgor’s tree. “Mother! Confirmed that the City Guard hasn’t had any new reports of Brigands or Highwaymen since the Season Of Waiting began.” 

     “Thank you, Tyrk. Please, go rest. You’ve earned a break, little one.” She said, finally looking down at the small group. Eyes tried, though watchful like a bird of prey stalking a much needed meal. 

     As Tyrk ran off, Ilgor continued down to both of the Older Goblins. “So, we won’t be able to lie and try to convince the City that another party was involved. Father, I should have expected more from you. But, you wanted to hate me more than have good sense.” 

     “Damnit Illy, I said I was sorry! But, I am still Chief!” He wavered as he saw Knoll out of the corner of his eye loose his own axe ready to draw. As well as several dozen of the Family glare at him, including a few of his own Raiders. 

     “Let them go. I’ll continue to hamper them. But, send Cori off to misdirect them even more. The longer they take to get home, the more time we have to prepare.” The exhaustion dripped from her voice like venom from a fang. 

     “Let them go? Are you mad? Kill them, then the information can’t reach back to the enemy!" Yorm roared. 

     “You let your rage dictate your actions far too much.” She wasn't pulling her punches again, all the Family within earshot snapped their attention to her. Several dozen Goblins now being forced to listen to her lecture to the Chief. “What do you think would happen if they weren’t allowed to return? Do you think they will just forget that you killed an important diplomatic Envoy? Do you think the humans are just going to roll over and let bygones be bygones? No, they will realize they just lost even more lives to the culprit they had already figured out, and you add fuel to the pyre you had built. Killing them serves us nothing, sparing them buys us time. Those two humans knew perfectly well where they were and knew even more so that they might be killed in our forest. Yet, they were not, especially if they had the good sense enough to figure out that we realized we had just done something we shouldn’t have. And you think spilling more blood is the answer? You think that this coming fight won’t do that already? I’m hoping to speak with them and resolve the matter, NOT MAKE THINGS WORSE!” 

     She screamed the last portion of her lecture, knocking Yorm into the snow with the weight of the magic steeped into her words. Knoll had to brace himself, a few of the others had been knocked down as well. Knoll chimed in “She’s right. Killing them isn’t a sound tactical option. Mother?”

     “Please stop calling me that…” She sounded more tired. 

     “Illy, come down and sleep. I have a reserve bottle in the tavern I think you’d appreciate.” Knoll’s voice was far kinder, as if he was speaking to a sleeping child. 

     “I need to keep this fog up.” 

     “The fog is already rolling in from the sea, it always rolls up into the forest this time of year. Surely you can spare a little time?” He tried. 

     There was a long silence as her humming died down. Yorm looked away with a sense of shame that only Knoll could notice in his face. “Can you carry me there? I would like to try and sleep a while.”

     “Yes, dear Sister.” 

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.52, King Lucas Berthelot

     He slammed his fist down on the heavy table, upsetting the glass of wine. The shattering shower of crystal as the crimson fluid pooled beneath his feet. King Berthelot, face hidden by the swinging light now dangling off the table the Chancellor has so ungraciously cleared, an echo of his dour mood. 

     “Do you mind repeating that, Soldier?” He said coolly, like a dog ready to bite. 

     “We found the attack site, well hidden. It took us a while to figure out what had happened, they hid their tracks well. Faked claw marks, downed tree in front of where the tracks stopped. Steam wagon spotted in the sea foam far below the cliffside. Not a single body left, either taken by the forest beasts, or thrown over that same cliff. We surmised they were attacked in an ambush.” The Commander stated, after a long discussion with his subordinate, he finally agreed with the Old man. 

     They had been waiting for this question, and they were ready to try and dissuade the Court from taking a harsh action. In reality, they didn’t know it was the goblins, they just had very strong suspicions. Maybe they could even liaison a chat with this friendly faction. The king asked the one question they couldn't counter without directly lying to them. “And the reports that there are no other bandits or potential threats? Can you confirm this information Michéle?”

     “After speaking with the other settlements, and their Guard. Yes, no other threats exist. The Foxes are currently being held inside the port by the Casques. We only have one remaining suspect.” Michéle responded, the vein in his temple throbbing. 

     King Berthelot sighed, placing a palm over his face. “Of all things. Fine, Michéle, you finally have your chance.” 

     “Sir, if I may.” The Old Man speaking to Michéle. 

     “What is it.” Less of a question, more command.

     “I know there are rumors running around that these people are changing. There is a faction led by a young female that seems to go out of her way to not harm folks on the road. More and more we’ve been hearing it, seems to prefer trade over raiding.” He began, before the Chancellor cut him off. 

     “Yes yes yes, I’ve had men track those things for months now. There are two existing factions inside the goblin Clan. Their Priestess is this female you are speaking of, and the other seems to be their Chief. As far as I’m concerned, they are all guilty. They ruined our one chance at smoothing things over with the Caliphate, and I will not allow them to exist in our gardens any longer.” Venom dripped from his lips. 

     “But, Sir. The sins of one isn’t the sin of all. Everything we’ve been witnessing out of them points to their raiding practice falling out of favor. It just seems callous to slaughter them all when the guilty party seems to be so small. I don’t think they were ignorant of who that Delegation was, I really don’t” The Commander spoke up this time. 

     “Are you saying that you think those vermin are capable of that level of planning? That they were able to analyze a risk and try to control their people?” 

     “Michéle, I am going to stop you now. I am intrigued to a certain degree. Commander, you have been on the side of the Chancellor for many years now. Why the change of heart in regards to the Goblin problem?” King Berthelot sat up in his throne, his face finally coming into the light. 

     He turned away, thinking carefully before he spoke. “I think that this friendly faction is much larger than we first realized. My subordinate here pointed something out to me. In the last few months, we haven’t received any reports about violent attacks on travellers. We’ve received reports that they’ve been accosted, but never harmed. I think that the perpetrator of this attack was a single group inside the goblins. If not a single individual.” 

     He sat back in his throne once more, though not even Michéle dared to interrupt Lucas’ pondering. Swirling a glass of bright crimson wine, after a long draught he spoke. “I see some potential in this. First and foremost, the Sultan will not accept anything less than the head of those who murdered his Advisor. Second, this could go a long way in building something.”

     “Your Excellency?” Michéle, questioned. 

     “I am gambling. Not with my Nation, but a future resource. Michéle, I want to remind you of your own hypocrisy. You yourself reported your interaction with me about the goblins you stopped just outside the city. You let them live, and you let them leave. Even noted their level of respect toward you and the other Guard as they strode out of Dockside with their hoods down. I believe in the rule of law, Michéle, I do not see how that wouldn’t extend to them as well. If they have a single culprit, then we should allow them the chance to bring them forward.” Lucas rose from his throne. 

     “However, I am fully aware that they may be unwilling. I am willing to gamble at them being civilized enough to bring forth their criminal, but not willing to gamble for the sake of the Nation. They have one day to respond and bring the potential criminal forward, they do not hunt them down.” Sitting back down, face sliding back into the Shadows. “Exterminate them otherwise. I win either way.” 

     “I’ll ready a Garrison, Your Excellency.” Michéle bowed low to Lucas, dismissing the two Scouts who had given their report. 

     “Michéle, I want that battleship here by yesterday. Use it as a show of force to the Goblins. Station it just inside its maximum range.” Still swirling his wine, Lucas ordered. 

     “The Arelion is already in transit, Sir. It should be here by tomorrow morning.”

     “I want that God’s Eye’s to open a communications line between the Sultan and I. I am not concerned with the Guild and their rules of Neutrality. If they wish to maintain their presence in my Capitol, they will do this. Bring me Odeza. Culprit in hand, or scapegoat I want to have this issue resolved before we engage in talks with Zybtine.” 

     “Yes, Sir.” 

***

     Hob booked it down the city streets, not caring that his hood had torn off in an alley way a while back. He had to get back to Ilgor. He had to get back to the Village. They needed to know they would be spared if they gave them Yorm. They needed to know… He skidded to a stop as a formation of Guards and Military closed the city gate. A man on a plinth making an announcement” Citizens, the city will be under lockdown while a Military Exercise will begin tomorrow morning.”