(Book One Complete!) Friendly Neighbourhood Goblin (Mercenary Company LitRPG)

35 - Penny For Your Trouble



When Stump returned to the Knight Inn, Morg was slouched in their office across from another, smaller dwarf.

He sat up at the goblin's waddle down the basement steps. "Stump," he said, straightening abruptly as if caught in the midst of a private act. "This is Thimble the Terrible. Thimble, meet Stump, leader o' the Nobodies."

When Thimble the Terrible nodded his hat rattled with the promise it concealed many objects. It rested just above his bushy white eyebrows, was patched in places with clashing fabrics, and stood, even with its wizardly bends and folds, taller than Thimble himself.

"Thimble was just about to demonstrate his talents," Morg went on, and gestured to the smaller dwarf.

Thimble scratched his scraggly beard, which was so thick it denied the existence of his neck. His shoulders, aiding the conspiracy, were so tense they appeared to be sprouting from his ears. "Here, I'll show ye what I mean," he whistled through a crooked smile. "Would ye mind writin' yer name down for me?"

Stump moved to the desk. "Sure," he said, reaching for the inkwell.

"No! Pretend ye don't have that."

He withdrew his arm with great hesitation. "Alright?"

"Now, can ye write yer name down for me?"

Stump glanced at the quill sitting askew. "I uh… I don't have anything to write with."

Thimble's cheeks reversed their downward sag with the mischievous grin widening beneath them. "Have y'ever found yerself in a situation like this? Have y'ever—"

"—Not really—"

"—found yerself without the required implement to solve a pressing puzzle?" He dangled a silence long enough to note but too short to ponder. "Ah!" he said, reaching a bony finger up to his cylindrical hat.

He pulled gently on one of the patches, revealing its true function as a flap. He rummaged inside and moments later his hand emerged, a pen pinched between his fingers.

Stump regarded it skeptically.

Morg leaned forward, his leathers squeaking. "But do ye have any skills?" he grumbled.

Thimble's smile vanished. "Skills?" The word escaped like a sneeze. He shoved the pen back into his hat. A series of clinks and rustlings followed, before he drew a knife.

Stump flinched. Morg armed himself with the ledger.

Thimble prodded the air. "How about this skill? Or, or…" He left the knife on the table and produced an arrowhead. "This one? Or…" A sewing needle came next, already jabbed into a ball of yarn, followed by a small cook pot, its many dents suggesting it saw more use as a mallet. The next time he pulled his hand free, the hat spewed a collection of minor items all over the table and cellar floor.

He mumbled a series of halfhearted apologies while Morg and Stump helped him stuff the contents back into his hat. Holding it upside down like a sack of oddities as he scampered up the steps, Thimble nodded his thanks and disappeared beyond the cellar door.

After he was gone, Morg sank into a chair and exhaled heavily. "Third one today 'n no luck so far," he said. "Tell me ye got some good news about that quest?"

Stump dropped the earnings on the desk. "It was kind of nice doing something like that after Seabrace," he said. "We're good at parties, Morg. Maybe we should specialize."

The dwarf snorted. "As long as yer the planner 'n I the drinker, it sounds mighty fine by me." He sat up at the clink of a seventh coin.

"I got this too, but I'm not sure what it is."

Morg leaned over the table. He squinted, appraising the rusted disc, and mumbled to himself. "It's a coin, looks like," was all he managed.

"I know it's a coin, but for what? I don't think I can buy anything with it."

"Doesn't have the Lumenurgy glow," the dwarf mused.

"You've never seen it before?"

"Can't say I have. Where'd ye get it?"

"The innkeep of The Rookery." Stump held the coin up to mycolight. "She said I should give it to Reema, and that if we ever got into trouble with the Midnight Ocelots we could give it to any inn in Hogg's Hollow."

Morg stirred. "The Ocelots?" he asked, bemused. "What'd she mean by that?"

Stump hesitated, unsure how much of Reema's story Morg already knew. "It sounded like she felt sorry for Reema and the inn, after she lost her father."

"Ah," said the dwarf. "Told ye about Reem, did she?"

"You knew?"

"Aye. Not somethin' ye wanna bring up 'round her, though."

Reema had been so encouraging of Stump's mercenary aspirations at first. She was the one who urged him to go to Penny Square. She'd helped set up his table in the inn, and convinced Jin to give him his first job. It was only when he got back from the tank and told them about the Midnight Ocelots that she'd soured on the idea.

We've had some trouble with the Ocelots in the past, Jin had told him.

"I should give it to her," said Stump. "Is she here? I didn't see her when I came in."

"She's out. Registerin' for mercenary status at Penny Hall, then spendin' some glimmer on new supplies. Mentioned somethin' about new colours for the inn 'n goblin recipes. Is that yer doin'?"

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Stump smiled. "Not exactly."

The dwarf shrugged. "She might be gone all day accordin' to Jin. He's upstairs if ye wanna leave it with him, though. He's fillin' in for her."

"How's he doing?"

"About as good as I would."

Stump headed for the stairs, but stopped halfway up at Morg's calling.

"What happens when ye give that coin to someone in Hogg's Hollow?" he asked.

Stump glanced down at it again. He turned it over from the tankards on its face to the bird on the other side. "I'm not sure. She wouldn't say too much."

Jin was indeed managing as well as Morg would have, if Morg was several drinks deep. The bulky taurean lumbered between tables, accidentally nudging occupied chairs with his wide hips. "Sorry. Pardon me," he muttered, his upper half swaying out of sync with his legs to keep the dishes balanced.

"Jin, can I talk to you?" Stump said, then shuffled out of the way of his thunderous gait.

"Bit busy right now." A plate slid off Jin's arm, spilling honey carrots and spice-flaked beef on the floor.

Stump hastily cleaned the mess and followed him into the kitchen. The oxfolk dumped the dishes into a barrel of water, then drew a rag across his sweaty brow.

"It'll only take a moment," Stump pressed.

Jin fished a handful of vegetables from a nearby shelf and dropped them onto a cutting board. "Two spicecaps… no onion in one… two Foglights… no, one Foglight, one Amber… alright, make it quick."

Stump displayed the coin. "I just wanted you to hold onto this until Reema gets back."

Jin had already dove into sautéing an onion, but stopped mid cut. His face paled at the sight of the coin. He carefully set the knife aside and snatched it from Stump's grasp. "How'd you get this?" he said, a slight waver in his tone.

"On a quest today. At the Rookery in Hogg's Hollow. They said I should give it to Reema, but… I don't know. I think it might be better coming from you."

His words seemed to pass right through the taurean, who was absorbed in his apprehensive study, and after a beat of silence, Stump piped up again. "Jin?"

The oxfolk looked up as if remembering where he was. "What's that, Stump?" he said.

His sharp shift in tone caused Stump's words to fumble. "I… I just thought you should give it to Reema. You know her better than I do."

"Right. Of course." Jin sounded faraway.

Morg had warned Stump about mentioning Reema's father to her, and he was sure it was an equally bad idea to breach the subject with Jin. "Sorry," Stump said. "I didn't mean to upset you."

The oxfolk's jowls shook along with his head. "No, not at all. Thank you, I mean. You caught me off guard. It's been a while since I've seen one of these. I'll make sure she gets it, don't ya worry."

"Thank you," Stump said. "But what is it?"

Colour returned to Jin's face. "Hope," he said, and rested a large hand on Stump's shoulder. "It's hope."

Hours later their fifth interview had concluded, and the Nobodies were no closer to hiring a fourth member.

Stump's eyes glazed over as he went down the list of mercenaries he'd tagged for interviews. Pike of the Unseen Hand, twelfth level Rogue. Myra Elmaneer, fourteenth level Ranger. Thu, Guttersnake of Mudrow. Noryn Flatfingers.

None had showed.

"We still don't have much to our name, yet," Morg drawled, reading Stump's distress from across the room. The dwarf was pacing by a crate of onions.

"But the Seabrace quest…" Stump complained. Reading had caused his eyes to droop.

"Aye, it was a good start. Our company has got better standin' than most at this stage. Trust me, I've served me time. But maybe we think about passin' on that Peaktree Manor job, much as it pains me."

Stump flipped to another page of the ledger. The inky smoke swirled into parcels of information, revealing the company's fame had increased over the last several days. Stump's completion of the stagfolk party had risen the number to two in Hogg's Hollow. In Grimsgate it was ten after Morg's quests, bringing their total to fourteen, more than enough to reach the rank of copper. All they needed to register was two more permanent members.

"We still have one more day," he mumbled, undeterred by their struggles.

The dwarf took a seat. "Aye, 'n we can spend it sittin' through more o' those interviews, or we could take some time to work on those smaller quests yer so fond of. It'll build our fame, 'n after enough time some o' those pricier swords will come our way."

He wasn't normally a particularly warm fellow, but Morg's words rang with enough truth to unearth a smile from Stump's sleepy frown. "I suppose."

The two of them spent the next hour looking through what was left of the quest offers they'd received when the door swung open and Jin's heavy voice spilled through. "Got someone here for ya."

A shadow rolled down the steps, followed by light footfalls and a pair of delicately stitched leather boots.

Stump's eyes widened. "Denna."

"What a charming establishment," she observed, ducking down the last few steps.

"Yer a bit overdressed for the occasion," Morg teased.

Where she had worn close fitting boiled leather armour in the Spits was replaced by a pearl white linen shirt buttoned beneath a crimson overcoat, with coattails fanning behind her, unintentionally saving them the task of sweeping later.

"I was visiting home today," she said and took a seat, awkwardly adjusting the many buckles and belts that held her outfit together. "Father doesn't like it when I show in my mercenary attire."

"You look nice," said Stump. His face was warm.

"You look uncomfortable," said Morg, nearly at the same time.

Her mouth twisted in disgust. "You have no idea," she said, and looked around at the dimly lit, low-ceilinged mercenary hall of their modest company.

"Ye can speak yer mind," Morg urged.

"I like it," she said, and Stump believed her. "There's something charming about all the fungus the Outerward uses for lighting."

The floorboards squealed under Jin's monstrous weight. His mumbled apologies sounded through.

"I wasn't sure you'd come back," said Stump.

"A promise is a promise, isn't it?" She scooted closer. "Besides, I didn't even have to request your presence in the hall." She gave Stump a knowing look.

He leaned forward. "Oh? What did your leader say?"

"He asked for you personally."

"Me?" Stump pointed to himself. His heart fluttered, and his ears twitched at the tease of the bloodlust. Garron's leader wants to see me, he thought, awestruck.

Morg edged forward and grumbled his way into the conversation. "What're we talking 'bout here, exactly?"

"That badge of the Iron Fleece I found in the woods. Why did he ask for me?"

"Well, there's been a surge of goblin raids lately," she said. "We've got a quest from Peaktree Manor to find any nearby caves and scatter the tribes."

Morg and Stump exchanged a look. "Peaktree Manor?" said Stump.

"We just got a request from 'em ourselves more'n a day ago," chimed Morg.

"Really? To find the caves?" Disbelief coloured her tone.

"To protect a greenhouse. Lady Maven mentioned something about Tydas hiring a company to fight the goblins head on, but I had no idea it was The Iron Fleece," said Stump. "Do you think... well, Morg mentioned something about company alliances, and... do you think your company would be willing to partner with us? For our quest?"

Denna shrugged. "You can ask them yourself. Today."

Stump's face had already warmed, but now his cheeks were burning. "So soon? I... uh, I... alright," he said, swallowing his trepidation. He'd dreamed of the Iron Fleece ever since finding their badge on the raid. Receiving an invite to their hall, let alone from the leader of their company, the one who hired Garron, maybe the one who trained him, was enough to cause a dizzy spell. He was thankful he was sitting down.

"I promised I'd take you into the city, didn't I?" Denna flashed a warm smile, then readjusted uncomfortably in her shabby chair. "But that's not the reason they sent me here. Something strange is going on," she continued, her voice low.

Stump shifted closer. Morg bent forward.

"Three of our members disappeared nearly two weeks ago, right around the time you said you found the badge. One of them was Garron."

Stump nodded along. "Right."

"But we don't have any record of a quest they'd been assigned to. And no one knows what they were doing."

"Right…" he repeated, more hesitant.

"Yer sayin' some o' yer people went out on their own?" asked Morg.

"I'm saying they must have been working for someone," she clarified, folding her hands in her lap. "But we have no idea who."


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