Chapter 12: Change of management

"You can try to use the toothpaste to see for yourself that it is a premium ware," Alaric pulled out another bottle. He was beating himself up internally.

His success with the ogres had made him overconfident. Goblins were not ogres. They enjoyed causing pain. They enjoyed a nice human roast. Wouldn't say no to a horse haunch, either.

He just hoped that Fig would survive this.

"Bring it here," the chieftain told him, and Alaric stood, his head still bowed, and he carried the bottle to the goblin. The goblin washed his hands first, and then brushed his teeth.

"Mirror," the goblin demanded, and Alaric was quick to hand him his. "They are white, what of it?"

Alaric had not expected that. It had been enough for the ogres, had it not?

"I, uhm..." Alaric's limbs were becoming cold, there was a lump in his throat. Oh, his family was going to die of laughter when they heard.

Look at stupid Alaric. He got himself and his horse eaten by goblins. Walked right to the chieftain and expected to sell him some salve or another.

"For how much do you usually sell this trash, con?" The goblin asked with a sneer.

"It is not trash," Alaric began, but the goblin's eyes narrowed.

"You dare talk back to me?" The goblin snarled.

 It took all of Alaric's self-control not to flinch visibly.

A no is not a no.

He was going to die, in a stinking shack filled goblin den.

A no is not a no.

People will remember him as the country's biggest dumbass. And they would be right.

A no is not a no.

Darn it all to Hell! If he ends up eaten, then he would die with his head held high!

Alaric's head rose, and he stared down the goblin. The goblin quirked an eyebrow.

"You might kill me, but I will be avenged. You stand to lose everything if anything happens to either myself or my horse," Alaric warned. His father would send the army to get rid of this den, on principle. And Marcellus might rampage around here, even if Alaric was not certain that the vampire would care much.

"And here I thought that you were a nobody," the goblin replied with a smile. He licked his lips, and Alaric's eyebrow rose. He was not intimidated in the slightest.

"If you accept the deal, without the discount, for you blew your golden ticket away," Alaric began, a sneer on his lips. He looked every bit the self-entitled prince then. "Then you would be able to eat something that was not stolen, for once."

"Why should I care whether what I eat is stolen or not? Meat is meat," the goblin told the prince, eyes twinkling in amusement. The chieftain always loved it when they fought in their last moments. It was the best fun to be had.

"Winter will come in a couple of months," Alaric reminded the green piece of scum. "Then, your goblins will starve."

"Let them. I will eat them, too," the chieftain said, and it was Alaric's turn to grin. He took his memory pendant from around his neck and turned up the volume.

"Let them. I will eat them, too," came from the pendant, loud and clear. A goblin dropped their club and stared in the direction of the throne.

"Was that... the chieftain?" The goblin murmured.

"Meat is meat," the pendant said next, and a couple of angry goblins edged towards the throne.

"I told you, that you stand to lose everything," Alaric spoke with a smirk. The chieftain stood from his throne and ran off. Yet, the rest of the goblins gave chase.

Alaric winced when he heard the sound of knives cutting into flesh and a lot of pig-like squalling coming from the chieftain. With a boldness Alaric had not known he possessed, he closed the distance to the throne and sat down on it.

When the goblins who had killed their chieftain found him lazing on the throne, they were confused.

"You will not eat the mare you took from me," Alaric told the goblins in a stern voice. "I defeated your chieftain. By your own laws, I am the new chieftain."

"You didn't stab him, not even once," one goblin argued, making a threatening step forward.

"I didn't have to. You were all already on my side," the goblins looked at each other in confusion, and Aleric relaxed in his seat as much as he could, considering he barely fit in it, and it was made of bones.

"What will we get, if we let you be the chieftain?" A female goblin asked.

"Better houses, honest work, meat for each day of the weak. Plus, all the social securities a dungeon mob usually gets," Alaric said without missing a beat. At those words, the goblin's eyes shone with greed.

A dungeon mob had it very well. They had insurances, the backing of the mob union. Not to mention retirement funds. The goblins did a huddle and began to murmur to each other.

"Let him sit on the throne, we can lead when he is away," the female goblin spoke.

"We can also talk him into making us a ruling council. He can be our puppet," another goblin spoke, blood on his hands.

"And if he refuses, we eat him and that horse of his," another goblin added with a snicker.

"We agree for you to become the new chieftain," the goblin woman spoke. "If you make a ruling council consisting of the five of us, with me as the leader."

The other four goblins began to glare at the woman, but she stood her ground.

"Deal," Alaric told her. He did not want to spend his days in this goblin den. Not only that, but he was going to delegate its renovation to Chavu and his army of gnomes. "Now, let me explain what toothpaste is."

Later that night, as Alaric ate the former chieftain's heart, and sat with Fig behind him, who was brushed by the goblins until she shone, he decided that he was not going to try his luck with the local giant.

What had happened earlier had been enough excitement for one lifetime…