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

Lord Tydas arrived with the morning. And with him came Denna.

Stump rose early, partly due to Morg's snoring, and partly at the whiff of breakfast. The dwarf's face was pressed into the pillow, his arms twisted awkwardly in the manner of someone who had been taken by sleep as quickly as they hit the pillow. In the corner Griza was still, her head slumped away from the light spilling through the window.

Stump dressed himself quietly and followed the scent of bread and herbs. The manor was abuzz as he waddled down the steps. Servants flitted about like worker bees through a hive, and laughter rolled out of the dining hall.

"Ten? Ten? How small is your imagination? I'd say eighty or ninety, at least," said someone Stump didn't recognize.

"Ninety? I'll drop ten copper on fifty three exactly," said another.

"Haven't you heard the stories? Neither of you have the shape of it. We'll see hundreds, if not thousands tonight."

More laughter, followed by a professorial reply from the first voice. "Stories are meant to be exaggerated, Ilora. When have you seen thousands of lights anywhere? Even on Little Lantern Way, or from Breakpoint?"

Stump turned the corner to see Merra at the head of the table with Lyda in her lap. Nine other chairs were taken by armoured members of the Iron Fleece. Denna's short hair was easy to spot.

She leaned to the side and waved him over. "Stump! We need you to settle a bet for us. No one at this table has seen the night sky," she said, then seemed to recall something before turning to the rest of her company. "Oh, this is the goblin I was telling you about."

Hearing the sudden shuffle of many heads turning his way, Stump crept into the hall with much embarrassment. "Good… good morning," he managed, licking his dry lips.

Two dozen eyes appraised him all at once.

"There's breakfast if you're hungry. Same for your dwarven companion," said Merra. Bowls of fruit glistened under candlelight. Eggs sizzled in their trays between baskets of bread and cinnamon dusted pastries.

"I'll uh… I'll let him know when he wakes," said Stump. He caught himself glancing at his feet.

Denna, reading his discomfort, rose from her chair. "Maybe later for the bet. I'll put down a silver on there being thousands of stars. Boren, see that Dharmis touches nothing on my plate."

The young oxfolk named Boren gave Dharmis a sly smile.

Laughter returned as Denna swiped up an apple, placed a hand on Stump's back, and led him outside.

Earth smelled of rain as they circled the back of the manor. Lumens paced intermittently through a nearby field of crops, and ambling between adolescent stalks was a robed figure, a hood pulled over his head. He made a gesture and the lights changed course.

Stump was so enthralled by the Solarmancer he had missed Denna's comment. "Sorry, what was that?" he said.

She took a bite of the apple. "I wanted to apologize about Torrig," she repeated.

He scoffed. "It's alright. You couldn't have known."

"I should have known, is what I mean to say. I just… I suppose I thought more highly of him."

Stump's toes sank in the soil as they walked. The ground was cool and soaked with rainwater. It was nice, comforting. "It wasn't so bad. I've never been paid to be insulted before," he teased.

She nudged his shoulder.

They walked for some time, exchanging stories. Stump recalled his party at the Knight Inn, and his hosting of a stagfolk child's birthday. He mentioned Gremgash the Anvil and his reptilian companion, and Thimble the Terrible's hat of many things. Hogg's Hollow and its vertical traffic. Elmee the fake Chronurgist. Brass the Penny Pincher and Ugg's magical belt of exploding rocks.

Denna traded her own tales, but it was a world Stump had only a brief glimpse of. She talked of the tedium of attending her father on the council of Aubany, the endless listing of names and the back and forth of petty grievances and minor adjustments to law. She talked of training with her peers, spending hours in the fighting yards of Shepherd's Hall and finally reaching her thirteenth level.

He listened intently, looking up at her and punctuating her words with the appropriate reactions as they circled Peaktree again and again. It was like reading a book. He was always absorbed in the world of the tall men through their stories, even if he couldn't fully understand it from his goblin cave. But that didn't matter, because he felt it. The pictures, the old worn covers, the colours of the marginalia and curves of the text. The expression of the story resonated with him almost as much as the tale itself.

He noted a similar feeling as Denna rattled off the many social gaffes of the guests at her older brother's twentieth level celebration. What did it mean to Stump that lady Oubal wore a dress of sienna? What even was sienna? Or that lord Ranish accidentally let slip that he was seeing a lower tier Host outside his marriage? But Stump listened, and through her stuttered laughter and hushed gossipy tone he understood the stories she was telling.

He was sad to see the Iron Fleece waiting for them the next time they rounded the front of the manor.

Dharmis threw his hands up. "Denna, where've you been? We don't have all day," he said, exasperated.

She and Stump glanced at the ground and realized they'd circled the estate enough times to have dug a small ditch with their feet. "Sorry, lost track of time," she said.

"Boren's a traitor, by the way. He got tired of trying to stop me eating your food and did the deed himself."

Boren slugged his ally.

Denna turned to Stump, blinking against the sun. "It was wonderful seeing you again," she said.

A heaviness hung around his heart. "You'll come back this way, right? After you're done?"

"Got to collect that reward somehow."

The manor door wheeled open and Eskel—the old servant who'd failed to catch Lyda the previous night—wandered out, his hands dug into their opposing sleeves over his belly. He addressed Stump with a gracious nod.

"Lord Tydas would request your presence in his study," he said.

Stump glanced over his shoulder to ensure no one was standing behind him. "Me?" he asked.

Wrinkles gathered around the old man's small eyes. "You are Stump, leader of the Nobodies?"

"Yes."

Another nod. "That is correct." A wind tussled the fabrics around his ankles, revealing a set of toenails in dire need of a trim.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Stump stood with Denna in the comfortable silence that dawns at the end of an exhaustive conversation with a close friend, when he remembered something.

"Oh," he said, digging into his pouch. "Would you take this with you?"

She needed no instruction on the function of the glowing pearl in his palm. "A Sending Stone?" she said, surprised. She turned it over in her hands.

"I'm not sure how it works over long distances, but I'd like to try. And if you're ever in trouble you can speak to me through it."

She flashed a sardonic smile. "And you'll come running to my rescue?"

He volleyed a similar smirk. "It's what knights do, isn't it?"

She pocketed the item and thanked him with a nod. "Then same to you. Knights stand together."

A clearing of the throat turned both their heads to Eskel, who wore an impatient frown.

"I should go," said Stump.

"Me as well. We've got another ten of our outfit to meet on the road, and then we're off to the wagon, if it's still there," she said.

He lowered his voice. "You'll be alright, won't you? Thrung's got a hundred goblins under his command, Griza says."

Denna cocked an eyebrow. "You believe her?"

"I think so," he admitted. "But it doesn't matter. He's got Thermalurgy and that should be enough to worry you. It worries me."

Denna bent forward, matching his height. Freckles spotted her cheeks. "We'll be fine, Stump. We're the Iron Fleece."

The study was tucked away in the bowels of the manor.

Stump trailed Eskel down a hall lined with portraits of figures long dead, all of them human. At the end a simple wooden door stood in shadow, flanked by unlit torches.

Eskel pushed the door open with the strained grunt of age and ushered Stump inside. The old man did not follow.

Books bracketed a small, dimly lit chamber. A colourful tapestry draped from the ceiling—a star chart, perhaps. Diffuse light scattered through the foggy panes of a window and died against the back of a chair large enough for Morg, Stump and Griza to sit side by side. It was occupied by a man with slicked black hair streaked with grey. He was hunched over a desk. The scratching of his quill stuttered the stuffy silence.

Stump was overcome with an awareness of his own small stature. "You wanted to see me?" he squeaked.

Without breaking from his writing lord Tydas held up a finger. Once he finished he folded the paper he'd been scrawling on and closed it with a wax seal. "See it's in his hands by evening," he said.

If silk could speak Stump imagined it would sound much like the lord of Peaktree.

A servant standing on the other side of the desk accepted it with a bow. He left without a word, and Tydas' chair sighed as he leaned back. He steepled his pale fingers.

"You're Stump." The words came out half a question and half a statement.

Stump gulped. "I am. That's right. Yes."

Tydas indicated a chair much smaller than his own. Stump climbed up and nudged it closer to the desk and found from his vantage that the room appeared to double in size.

The lord of Peaktree had the pale, angular face of what Stump assumed to be common among human nobility, and his chest was nearly as wide as Morg's. A purple and black overcoat was left unbuttoned over his belly, revealing a tight grey shirt beneath, its collar hugging his neck. Dark frills fanned at the wrists.

"My wife tells me you're a Lumenurgist," he said. The candles seemed to dim at the cold evenness of his voice.

"Uh… I am. Well, sort of. I'm not a very good one, yet. Level five Illusionist," Stump mumbled, disarmed by the lack of formal tall men pleasantries.

"And you've shown some interest in meeting the man in my employ." Again a question, but also a fact. Tydas' voice lilted, but it was also flat. He was charming, but also not.

"Kestrel? Well.." Stump trailed off.

"I could arrange this. Perhaps." Tydas gently stroked his tidy black and silver beard. His movements were slow. Steady. "Do you have any interest in the skill of Solarmancy?"

In truth Stump wasn't certain which direction he would take when he received another focus point. But now was not the time to air such doubts. "I am."

Tydas stole a moment to observe his goblin specimen. His thoughts, like his movements, operated at a deliberate pace. Time itself seemed to bend around him, its reins firmly in his hands.

"I realize you are here in the capacity of a hireling under Maven, but would you be interested in taking on a second contract?" he said.

"Oh… I'm not sure. It's just Morg and I, and we've got the greenhouse to defend."

Tydas' eyes glimmered with the confidence of a man with much to offer. "The greenhouse, yes," he said, then paused. "Mine is a simple quest. It won't take much of your time. All I require is for you to pay a visit to a nearby farmstead."

His tone was too measured for that to be true. Too calculated. "What should I do when I get there?" said Stump.

"Volunteer. The Orwen farm is southeast of ours. They are suffering similar goblin incursions. The difference is they have little in the way of money to hire defences. They've reached out to some of the poorest companies in the Downs. Without payment, I'm told."

That's terrible, Stump thought. He wished they'd visited the Knight Inn before he took on the Valroy quest. Maybe it would have earned him and Morg less glimmer, but it was people like them who really needed the help, not the Valroys.

"You want me to help them?" Stump asked. It might've been his own instincts or Maven's warnings, but he found it difficult to trust the man.

"By all means. Stave off the goblin threat, but you must not indicate your association with Peaktree. All I need you to do is uncover the vampire living among them."

Stump feigned surprise. "Vampire?"

Tydas wasn't fooled. "Maven told you."

Is he asking me or telling me? "I heard her mention something about them over supper."

The barest hint of a smile threatened a corner of Tydas' lips, by far the strongest hint of emotion yet. "Did she mention my name?

"Uh…"

"The tyrant of Peaktree, was it?"

Stump's ears twitched, a dead giveaway.

Tydas gave in to the smile a little more, but the amusement was touched with sadness. He rose, standing nearly six and a half feet tall, and strode slowly around the chair, hands clasped behind his back.

"Maven believes I'm unfairly treating the smaller steads around us," he said. "She thinks my wealth is unearned. Stolen, on her bad days. Perhaps she's right. Strange that it doesn't seem to cause her any discomfort, though. I'm a tyrant, a miser, she'll say between mouthfuls of my fruit and sips of my wine."

"Right," Stump allowed. The unease of being wedged between his employer and her very influential son-in-law tightened his throat.

The lord of Peaktree drew a curtain across half the window, and stood behind it to gaze out the other half, but what he could see through the foggy panes was unclear. "I understand she's your employer, but you would do well to mistrust her. She has a way with words. With people. She's turned my wife against me, as well. Tyrant, I am known outside these walls. I can make my peace with it, should I rid our land of this blight."

Stump had tensed considerably in his seat. His tangled thoughts didn't move as quickly as Tydas', but even he could see the conclusion the lord of Peaktree was leading him towards.

"You want me to kill this vampire?" he said.

Another silence hung heavy before Tydas turned from the window and spoke, but it wasn't to answer Stump's question. "I'm sure Kestrel's function was brought to your attention."

"He helps your crops. Better harvest."

"He's a vampire hunter."

Of course, Stump thought. Solarmancy, the power of sunlight. Was that what Lyda was hinting at over dinner? "So… he'll be coming with me?"

Tydas moseyed back and forth along the carpet behind his chair. "No. As I said, the Orwens cannot know of my association with you. All you must do is learn the identity of the vampire, whether it is being sheltered by the family or if it is one of them, then report back to me. Nothing more."

"And you'll pay Kestrel to kill them."

Tydas made to speak, but stopped short. Whatever it was he intended to say was dulled and obscured into something much more opaque. "He has his own stake in the matter. They call him the Black Sun."

Stump lowered his head for quick consideration. "I… I don't think I'm right for this," he said.

Understanding coloured the lord's pale face. He nodded, then switched tactics. "Have you heard of Borovic?"

Stump caught himself before he mentioned Morg was from there. "I have."

"It's a strange city. It doesn't operate much like Aubany. Whereas we have a council of the most powerful companies they have factions of nobles voted in by the people. Usually it is the Bloodmoon party—Werewolves—or the Dawn of Dusk. Those are the vampires. The two factions are mortal enemies and currently it is the vampires in charge. We know this because of our stark uptick in garlic imports from what little trade we have with their city. Sunlight can kill a vampire if it's bright enough, hence Kestrel's expertise in Solarmancy. And where in our mortal realm does sunlight flee with the greatest of intent?"

"Aubany," said Stump.

Tydas stopped behind his chair and curled his fingers over the back. "It is our city they want. Our eternal twilight they desire. But Aubany is not theirs. Yet."

"Yet…?"

"A war is inevitable. How and when is not. They first must weaken us. Divide us. They've been at this game for many years, sending their spies to our lands to turn us against each other. To undermine."

Not Morg, Stump wanted to say. Whatever history his friend had with Borovic hadn't come to the Downs with him. He'd left it behind the same way Stump left his tribe beyond the Shadowlands.

"You can't know every vampire is a spy for Borovic," he said. "What if they've just run away? You said so yourself, they want to live here. Why wouldn't they try to live here peacefully if they could?"

Tydas considered Stump's words with little warmth. "Are you willing to wager the safety of Aubany on that kindness? The lives of those who live in the Downs? Help me find one of their spies. Help me stop them, and you may train with Kestrel all you desire."