chapter 36 golbin Prince

Kaelith exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around the handle of his small blade as he eyed the tangled mess of ropes wrapped around the goblin's frail body. Whoever had tied these knots had done so with precision—each loop and twist ensured maximum restraint, digging deep into the creature's thin limbs, restricting movement entirely. The goblin's green skin was marred with faint bruises where the ropes had cut off circulation, leaving behind angry red marks.

The goblin lay still, its chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. It barely reacted as Kaelith reached for its wrists, which were bound tightly behind its back. He crouched lower, adjusting his grip to carefully slide his dagger beneath the thick ropes. The blade's sharp edge pressed against the fiber, but he kept his movements controlled—too much pressure, and he might accidentally cut the goblin's skin.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he sliced through the first binding. The rope snapped, loosening slightly but still holding firm in other places. The goblin flinched, its body giving the faintest tremor, but it made no attempt to resist or escape. It was either too exhausted or too resigned to whatever fate awaited it.

Kaelith shifted, working on the next set of bindings. His blade moved with practiced ease, severing the restraints with precision. As each rope was cut, the goblin's posture began to change—its shoulders, once hunched and rigid, sagged ever so slightly, as though the tension that had kept it frozen in place was finally easing.

He reached for the ropes around its ankles next. These were tied just as tightly, forcing the goblin's legs together in a cruel manner. With another careful slice, the bindings fell away. The goblin's legs remained curled for a moment, hesitant, before finally shifting—tentatively stretching as if testing their newfound freedom.

Kaelith noted the raw marks left behind, deep indentations where the ropes had dug into flesh. The goblin flexed its fingers weakly, its movements sluggish, as though blood was only now returning to its extremities.

The last of the bindings remained—one final rope twisted tightly around the goblin's torso, looping under its arms and restricting its ability to breathe deeply. This one had been tied with extra care, reinforcing the idea that whoever captured this creature had not wanted it to move at all.

Kaelith frowned. Why go to such lengths for a single goblin? He had fought and killed many before—usually in swarms, their chaotic nature making them reckless and unpredictable. But this one was different. The way it lay there, barely reacting, barely moving—it didn't fit the usual image of a goblin.

His blade found the knot, and with a controlled motion, he slipped the dagger's tip beneath it and twisted. The knot loosened, and with one final tug, the rope came free, falling away in a messy heap.

The goblin inhaled sharply, its small chest rising in a deep breath now that it was no longer constricted. It blinked several times, its unfocused gaze gradually sharpening. But still, it did not speak. It did not make a sound.

Kaelith studied the creature for a moment, taking in its state. It was still weak, still recovering from whatever ordeal it had endured before being stuffed into that crate. But now, without the bindings holding it down, it looked… lost.

The goblin's hands twitched, fingers brushing against its own arms as if confirming that it was truly free. Its eyes darted to Kaelith, uncertain, hesitant. There was no immediate aggression, no attempt to flee. Just quiet confusion.

Kaelith sat back on his heels, sheathing his dagger. His mind raced with questions. Who had done this? Why capture a goblin only to abandon it? And most importantly… what was he supposed to do with it now?

The goblin didn't move, still lying there as if waiting for further instructions.

Kaelith sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, little guy," he muttered under his breath. "You're free now. What happens next is up to you."

The goblin blinked once, processing his words, but it still didn't move.

Kaelith sighed again. Looks like this wasn't going to be so simple after all.

Kaelith kept his expression neutral, but his mind was already racing.

A goblin prince? That was not something he had expected when he cracked open the wooden crate.

The goblin sat before him, small and green, but undeniably different from the wild goblins Kaelith had encountered before. His skin was a smoother shade of emerald, lacking the filth and grime that usually coated his kind. His clothing—though torn and dirtied—was once finely crafted, with golden embroidery running along the edges of his tunic and trousers. His wrists and ankles bore faint red marks where the ropes had cut into him, a silent testament to how long he had been bound.

But the real giveaway? His eyes.

Unlike the wild, crazed goblins Kaelith had fought in the past, this one had sharp, intelligent eyes. There was no fear, no mindless aggression—only controlled curiosity and a hint of irritation, as if being stuffed inside a box was more of an inconvenience than a life-threatening situation.

Kaelith slowly crossed his arms. His fingers hovered near his quiver, not as a threat, but out of pure habit. He had seen goblins rip people apart in seconds—just because this one talked like a noble didn't mean it wasn't dangerous.

The goblin prince stretched his stiff limbs and let out a long breath. Then, in a voice too smooth and fluent for Kaelith's liking, he finally spoke.

"Thank you, human, for saving me."

Kaelith raised an eyebrow. The goblin's tone wasn't desperate. It wasn't filled with fear or trembling gratitude. It was measured. Calm. Like someone offering a polite thank you to a servant who had just opened the door for them.

Kaelith said nothing, waiting.

The goblin dusted off his ruined clothes and continued, his small arms crossing over his chest. "I am the Seventh Prince of the Goblin Kingdom." His voice carried the weight of someone expecting that title to mean something.

Kaelith's expression didn't change.

The goblin prince narrowed his eyes slightly before continuing. "While I was traveling, I was kidnapped by bandits."

Kaelith remained still, listening carefully.

The goblin's brow furrowed as if struggling to recall. "Then… what happened next, I do not know. I woke up in a box, and I saw you helping me."

There was a pause.

Kaelith let the silence linger, letting the goblin's words settle.

Finally, he tilted his head slightly and spoke, his tone flat.

"And you expect me to believe that?"

The goblin blinked at him.

Kaelith's gaze sharpened. "A goblin prince just happens to be captured by some random bandits? Gets tied up and stuffed in a box? And I just happen to find you?"

The goblin huffed, looking mildly irritated. "Why would I lie?" He gestured at himself. "Look at me. Do I seem like an ordinary goblin to you?"

Kaelith studied him for a moment.

Now that he was paying closer attention… the goblin did look different.

His clothes weren't the ragged scraps of a wild goblin. Even in their current state, they still had craftsmanship—the embroidery, the quality of the fabric. His skin was clearer, smoother, showing no signs of the rough life most goblins lived.

And then there were the golden piercings on his ears—three small rings, perfectly crafted. Goblins didn't make jewelry like that.

Kaelith exhaled slowly through his nose.

Shit.

He hadn't just freed some random goblin.

He had just rescued royalty.

And that meant trouble.

Big trouble.

Kaelith rubbed the bridge of his nose, already feeling the headache forming. He had seen enough of how nobility worked to know one thing: getting involved with royalty—no matter the race—always led to a mess.

The goblin prince, oblivious to Kaelith's inner turmoil, stretched his arms again, clearly enjoying his newfound freedom.

Then, with a casual yet expectant look, he turned back to Kaelith.

"So, human," the goblin prince said, tilting his head, "now that you've saved me… what do you plan to do next?"