CHAPTER 16: The Squire

The goblins are in good spirits. They're marveling at their leader's regeneration – and I admit that it is a sight to behold. Right now, However, I'm more concerned with getting out of here. If I can use these goblins to back at those jerks in Willow's Edge, great! More realistically, there's no way that I can trust them. Things would be much easier for me if I could just leave now and get far away from here. Turning away from the throng, I'm looking for an exit. You could say it's going well, since I can see half a dozen exits from the cave that I'm in. Most, if not all the goblins are probably here, distracted, and one of these caves has to lead out of here. Which one? A tugging at my clothes startles me and I yelp.

"Not yet" says the high-pitched nasal voice of a small dark-skinned goblin, "King says tell you, 'Too many tunnels. You never make it out. Word was given. Now you be guest. Soon you be Clanfriend." This causes me to think.

"Well," I say, "as guest, shouldn't I be allowed to leave?" The ruddy runt of a goblin is shaking his head 'no', and frowning.

"Not even Clanfriend leave without King say so." he goes on in his tiny gravelly voice.

"Great." I return, still in goblin, "So what's a 'Clanfriend'? How is that different than a 'guest'?"

"Goblins NEVER eat Clanfriend." He says with serious intonation.

"Great!" I say, "So what's the fastest way to become a Clanfriend?"

The small humanoid sticks out his grubby little gnarled hand and sticks up his pudgy little thumb. "King Says you are guest." His little index finger shoots up. "You give much to goblin foods." His third finger goes up and he says, "You eat from goblin foods." It's a good thing there are only three steps, because he's run out of fingers to count with on that hand. There's no way I can stay safe here like this for long. The faster I give these guys some jerky and take a bite of bread, the faster I can move along with things. The little goblin lowers his hand. "Soon." He says. "Soon we go." We wait there for a bit, and I'm doing my best to blend into the walls as we wait. After a few moments, the excitement dies and a few orders are barked, and the leader of the goblins saunters his little way over and speaks again in Dwarven.

"Blecs" He says. I don't understand, so I stare at him blankly. "The name of the Goblin King. It is 'King Blecs'." Still, He's staring at me expectantly. He's a little easier to look at, and I notice that his nose must have regrown to match his brand-new leg.

"Oh! My name is Bree!", I say, recognizing and returning his introduction. "I'm Bree Runesinger. It's a pleasure to meet you …again, I mean, uhh… Sir." I'm certainly indebted to him for not letting me become dinner. A little courteousness couldn't hurt.

"You did try to help me when we first met. That debt is paid. We don't mention it again. Agreed?"

I nod to this and say, "Assuming that these guys don't change their mind and try to turn me into a meal, I agree."

"Well, you'll be adding to the goblin stores one way or another". He's not so much smiling as showing his pointy little teeth as he says this. Nodding to the goblin that stopped me from venturing into the caves, he asks, "Has this little one told you how to do so without being the meat that is added?" I nod a little. Switching back to the Goblin language, Blecs says, "The first goblin who bowed to me has the honor to be my messenger – and now your squire. As soon as I taught goblins this word, 'squire', the little one liked it." At this, I look to the new little goblin, and see that he has a real smile. "So, keep the little one close. If I were you, I would pay them somehow, to encourage the coward to stay close. Treat them well. Their name was 'Three', for third born. But now, they've earned the name 'Threepaw'." I look at my new Squire and I can understand how he got his name. I furtively glance back to the left hand that has been lopped off in some long-ago accident or skirmish.

The Goblin King Blecs went over the 'Clanfriend', and what it means, stressing the order that things go in, and making me repeat it. "Guest. Giver. Taker." I say. The fact that the goblins have a tradition like this is news to me. But then again, most goblin hordes this size would be led by a hobgoblin – or at least a bugbear, so I shouldn't be too surprised that something like this exists. Blecs told me that whatever they could scrape off the body of the bear would go into the stores, but I would also have to personally add something else to the larder. He went on about a few other things, mostly posturing and blah blah blah about how good of a king he is, but it seemed mostly for the benefit of little Threepaw.

When the king finally strode away, I asked my guide/guard/the-little-creature-that-would-scream-if-I-tried-to-run to take me to add food to their stores. He leads me a short way through tunnels by torchlight and takes me past an honest-to-goodness door. It's the only real piece of architecture that I've found so far, but the interior is a bit less impressive. Maybe the system doesn't translate perfectly, or maybe the word 'Larder' was just overstating it, but it's not what I think of as a larder. The word 'Putrid' does come to mind. I fight my first instinct to gag, and move away from piles of rotting slop and towards barrels and makeshift shelves Yet, as I look through, it's not all gone bad, some of it is… what's the word… Fermented? There's even – "Woah." I say, as my eyes open wide. "Are those Pickles?"

"Clanfriend, 'pickles' is word for all them. These is potato pickles. These is pickled mushrooms. These nasty ones is pickled cucumber. Them is beer. These is pickled carrots. These is pickled meat. Thi-"

"Wait. Did you say beer? Like BEER beer? You know; tavern swill?"

"No one will miss it, if we take little." Says Threepaw, with a glint in his eye. "Filling. And fun." I'm looking through some more of their foodstuffs. The goblins seem to have a taste for fresh meats and sour dishes. I say 'fresh meat' because I'm looking at disorganized chunks of flesh, some of which come from animals that I either can't or won't try to classify. At this point, I'm not very worried about offending my hosts, and I promptly empty any food that has gone bad – or is about to go bad – from my inventory. Little Threepaw looks a little bit disappointed somehow, that I'm adding food first. The stress that Blecs put on the order comes to mind, and I wonder what he would have done if I'd tried taking food before I added some. His dejected face doesn't last long, though. Apparently, he's pretty happy with my garbage pile. I'm thirsty, but I don't trust any container around here that hasn't been sealed – so I find an empty beer barrel and cast Create Water to fill it. It only fills about a quarter of the thing, but my wide-eyed goblin escort is still impressed. Not by the water, I'm sure she'd drink out of a cesspit. She's impressed by the magic. "Very good!" he says, as he opens a drum. "Until now, only King Blecs makes food appear from air." Saying this, he peers into the wooden drum, and a none-too-pleasant aroma wafts out. "You make good Clanfriend, Clanfriend!" Then as his dirty hands reach into the container, he smiles, and reaches some pickled cabbage towards my face, I almost add my last meal to the larder, instead of taking my next one to it.

"Something else, maybe?" I ask weakly. Some of the jerky seems to be of good quality, but knowing the meat that goblins usually eat, I'm not ready to risk it. I reach for the beer instead. It's probably the only thing that hasn't had nasty goblin hands into it. It would be nice to say that I escaped the caves that night when everyone fell asleep, but the fact is that I'd never even had beer in my life before that night, much less drinking this much, so after being loud and rude and a braggart and fitting in with the goblins well in other ways, too, I passed out early and woke up late. Whatever room I'm in this morning, other goblins are still sleeping here. I sit up and lift my groggy head as an ache spreads from between my eyes. This headache seems like it is about to get worse, too, because right in front of my eyes is the friendly smile of Threepaw.

"Ugh" I manage as I hold my head. "Please, Threepaw, give me some space. I can barely even think, my head hurts so much."

"Humans no understand drinking like goblins do. Dwarves don't understand because they can't feel how drink poisons the body." I didn't really understand what he was saying, but he reached me some food that I was desperate enough to take. His cheerful little voice went on, telling me about the big breakfast. Mostly it was just more beer, a lot of water, and plenty of food, but I was sure I tasted ginseng a few times. How or why these creatures would grow it down here was beyond me. I didn't question it, though, since it was quickly helping me feel better and because I had more important things on my mind. Threepaw brought up the future, then. "King wants you to speak with them. Battle plans. You promised goblins meat. They won't forget or forgive if no meat comes."

"You're right. And there's not time like the present. Can you take me to king Blecs?" Nodding, he got up and lead the way. Walking in front of me, Threepaw leads the way. I still don't know my way around these tunnels – it's only been a day, and most of last night I was drunk – but I find that there's a natural order to them. This coupled with the same natural sense of direction that the system gave me – the one that helped me find my way back to Mirtulfield months ago – gives me a rough sense of the structure. I'm wondering if the goblins dug these caves into the rock themselves, and how they would have done it, when my gaze drifts back to Threepaw. Suddenly I notice something that I didn't see before. A slim curved dagger strapped to his side. I normally have a very good memory, especially recently, but the beer from last night left a few holes. "Threepaw, that dagger…"

"Is very good! Very sharp! She likes it very much." I suddenly remember last night, asking Threepaw just how exactly he would prefer to be compensated for his loyalty. A weapon is what he wanted, so a weapon is what I gave. It's one of the daggers that I got from the bandit gang in the woods, but on little Threepaw, it's sized more like a shortsword or a scimitar. At the mention of it, Threepaw pulled it out and swung it around a few times, slicing the air with it. It's good to know that the bribe worked so well, since Threepaw is leading the way expertly, smiling and clearly happy. Passing strange rooms, like one that seems to be a rat kennel and a few others that I can't label, we come to the King's chambers. Gesturing me to wait, Threepaw scampers inside, taking the torch that was lighting or way with him. I lit another quickly, wondering how long he'd be gone. My senses were alert, which is how I easily spotted little eyes watching me. They were goblins, sure, but over the last little while, I'd gotten used to toothy grins and smiling faces. These sharp maws weren't smiling, though. They seemed just short of snarling. The hair raised on my neck and my axe appeared in my hand. 'ENEMY' appeared above a few little heads, heads that I was ready to separate from their bodies, when they charged. I had all my spells left and was itching to launch the 'Guiding Bolt' against one of these little guys, but there was a scurrying behind me, already too close in the cramped, dingy grotto. I turned and raised my hand. The axe it was holding glistened, hungry in the dim cavern.