Chapter 3: Purple Petals

One of the few things which Grog understood was the fact that if he didn't get the roses, he would be sad. His language learning sessions with the dungeon core were a bore to him.

No.

He wanted white and yellow roses. Just like the color of Rose's fur. He wanted all the red roses, all the blue ones, and even the glowing purple ones!

"Halt!" But as said before, the garden had a master. A witch, who was misunderstood.

Not because she ate children. She ate children who refused to give away their milk teeth to tooth fairies. Her market was a niche one.

No.

She was misunderstood because people thought that she didn't care much about goblins.

Agatha was someone who believed that there should be a purpose for every person. Be it a child who needed to be put in its place or under dough or a goblin who was eyeing her magical special cultivating roses.

"If you wish for a rose, then you need to earn it!"

That said, to a goblin, was like asking someone for a 10% raise for something as manual as washing the dishes.

Not even the dishes of a restaurant. But the dishes in a single household with a total inhabitant count of 1.

Dobri saw an opportunity in that.

"Tell the witch that you will work for her in exchange for a magical book," that was like telling a child that they would get what they wanted.

Even if that something was a huge chocolate pear from a Lind shop.

"I will work for the rose!"

Grog was a goblin. He had worked his whole life. Not just that, but he had also learned early on that whining won't amount to much.

And so, the witch got a housekeeper, who…

Had plans to eat her roses!

****

On the first day as a housekeeper, Grog was washing the dishes after making a fine meal of pouched eggs and sausages in a pan.

He had been allowed to eat just one slice of bread with some oil.

Not even olive oil.

Just sunflower oil.

Grog had also been allowed to get some red pepper for his slice of bread.

But that didn't bother him much.

After all, this wasn't about him. It was about the roses! The roses, which smelled so nice!

Especially the purple glowing ones!

Grog placed the last plate on the rack to dry, called at Rose, his kitten, and then went to weed the garden.

He thought it was a crime.

The weeds were native to this forest. Or so he thought. He was a goblin who had seen the sky just a couple of hours ago.

Dobri was his only source of knowledge.

"Ok, I don't think she is looking. Eat the already fallen petals," Dobri thought himself clever. He thought that if the petals were eaten, then the witch won't notice the fact that the goblin was evolving.

Unknown to Grog, Dobri had already scanned the roses. They were rich in mana. Every self-respecting cultivator would jump at the opportunity to eat the fallen petals.

Grog took one. Just one fallen purple petal. He hid it in his pocket and began to weed.

That was something which Dobri could not understand.

"Why?" The dungeon core asked. "Didn't you feel sorry for the plants?"

Grog just shrugged.

"Mistress gave me a job. I will do it," that was the most honest answer a goblin had ever given someone.

Dobri held a minute of silence for this change in the history of the goblin species.

Then he evaluated his options.

If Grog refused to take off with the glowing purple rose bush, then they would be stuck at the witch's house for a long time.

But if Grog took the petals each day, and did so with the witch's knowledge, then Dobri thought to himself that they would have enough for some jam soon.

But how soon was that soon was beyond him.

"Tell the witch you took the petal," Dobri wanted to play it safe. He was a mana creature. Witches could eat mana stones. Unlike goblins, their stomach acids were strong enough to get rid of them without much of a problem.

"Sure thing, Boss!"

Grog went back into the house. Activated the cleaning rune to get rid of the dirt, which was under his nails, and then went to the witch's room.

She was by her desk, writing her dark Grimoire with chicken blood.

Inflation had stricken their country so severely that chicken blood was the cheapest ink for Grimoires from here to the Icy Sea.

"Yes, Grog?" Agatha asked, as she pondered if she should write "pure evil" or "administrative legislation" in her Grimoire.

"Mistress, I have taken one fallen rose petal from your garden!" Grog even showed her the petal.

The witch decided that "pure evil" had more of a dramatic effect and that her readers would understand from the context that her book was about tax evasion.

She pondered on whatever she should turn the goblin into a frog.

In the end, she decided that she would rather eat some more poached eggs rather than frog feet soup.

"You may take all the fallen petals," she told him, not seeing the harm. "And do with them as you please. Now, go back to the garden. And pick me some fresh greens for my salad!"

Grog left with a joyful smile. Agatha was a pretty witch.

Sure, her hair was curly and a nightmare and a half, but he was sure that this could play to his strength.

After all, he was bald and had a beer belly.

Or a bread belly.

He wasn't really sure how to call it, seeing as he only ate meat.

Dobri blinked when he found the strange mana in the purple roses. There was a transmutation mana inside of them!

If he let the goblin eat as many of the roses as he wished, then he might even turn into a human!

A green-skinned one, yes, but a human.

And everyone knew that humans could rise to be kings…