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

Training wasn't what Stump expected.

He'd thought Kestrel would take him outside and together they'd work on his form, his concentration, or his ability to manipulate illusions. Perhaps he'd learn the earliest stages of Solarmancy, or more about the powers of Thermalurgy.

But that wasn't it.

"Lesson one," Kestrel had said, "is mastering the tenets of Lumensa."

"Mastering them?" Stump asked while the two of them still sat in the main hall and the rest of the household returned to sleep. "How do I do that?"

"Learn people. Learn how to speak to them, how to read them. Learn how to help them, and teach them how to help themselves."

It was a vague lesson, one lacking even a single lumen, but Stump took it to bed with him. He laid there, wrestling with how to go about it, as his eyes became harder and harder to keep open.

Griza was fighting with her constraints when he woke. He sat up, blinking against the dim light.

"I thought we talked about this," he yawned.

Her head jerked up, surprised. "Take these off."

"You'll run."

"I won't." Her ears twitched—an obvious lie. "I don't like them."

Stump slipped out of bed and waddled closer. She shrunk into the corner. "I can't do that, Griza. You bit Morg and then you tried to run when we were fighting. Besides, I'll need your insights into Thrung's army."

She scoffed. "You'll never have that. I'll never give you his weaknesses."

Stump looked down at her with a measure of pity. "That's alright, I already know them," he said. "I spoke to someone who has the same powers he does."

Her eyes narrowed. "No one has his powers."

He had no desire to argue with her. She was lost in Thrung's grasp, even this far from the tribe. But he held a sliver of hope it could be broken.

Stump sat cross-legged in front of her, a gesture that made her flinch. She stared from the shadowed corner like a frightened animal, lost and insecure, but willing to tear off a finger if one came too close.

"I was thinking I would go downstairs and get you some breakfast," he said. "I'm sorry I missed it yesterday. You must be hungry."

She remained still. Silent. Ragged breaths disturbed a lock of white hair.

"And I'm thinking about taking on a second quest while Morg and I are here. I'd have to travel to a smaller farm and bring you with me. It probably won't be as nice, but I'll make sure you get food there too," he went on.

Her stomach rumbled approval, which served to make her angry. "Let me go and I'll find my own food," she snarled.

"Did Thrung feed you well?"

She writhed, bumping into the wall. "Fire-Spitter, I said! You call him Fire-Spitter!"

"Did he feed you well?" he repeated, ignoring her. "I wouldn't think so. In the tribe it was always about who could take what, but at least the matrons made sure everyone was cared for. Must be different now that there's a king."

Her struggle waned after it drew no reaction from him. "I ate fine. Fire-Spitter says who can and can't eat, and that's how it must be."

"Only a few weeks ago the matrons were how it must be."

She flashed him an annoyed look. "He was stronger than the matrons. Now it's different. Six tribes bow at his feet, as was foretold."

"Prophecy," said Stump. He wondered if Thrung had the powers of Elmee's god.

"That's right. His visions of Shekago. Six and thirty."

"What does thirty mean?"

She shrugged impatiently. "Stone-Head says thirty days until we destroy the land of the tall men."

"Thrung doesn't tell you what it means?"

"You ask stupid questions!" She thrashed again, but was too tightly wedged to do much more than dislodge a book from its shelf. "Our tribe is more powerful than ever now. Many of us are earning our warnames."

"You haven't," he said.

"Maybe when I kill you!" The bloodlust stirred to life and her attempt at a lunge turned into a flop. "He'll reward me, you'll see!"

Stump helped her sit up, keeping his hands far enough from her snapping jaws. When she was fit snugly into the corner again and could see her anger was stoking nothing in him, frustration wore down the lust.

"What would your warname be?" he asked. His ears perked with curiosity.

"What?"

The question was preposterous. Most goblins pondered it and secretly harboured their favourite picks for themselves—it was hard not to—but it was as futile as deciding your hair colour before being born. A goblin's warname came from their deeds or their character, not their hopes and dreams.

"I didn't really want to be called Stump," he said, looking at the floor. "I didn't even earn it on a raid. I was just short, even for a goblin."

"You deserved it."

"Funny that you still call me Ergul, then."

She bared her teeth. Griza was in unfamiliar territory. It wasn't the farm or her captivity, it was that she wasn't fighting or killing. She was locked in a verbal duel where her bloodlust held no power, and goblins had never trained for that.

Learn how to help people, and teach them how to help themselves, he thought. "I remember you were one of the fastest in our tribe. You were determined, too. You caught up to me on the Wildrun faster than the others, even Rat-Squealer. So, if you could choose, what would your warname be?"

For the first time since their reunion Griza bore a thoughtful frown. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, her hopes, her vision of herself. "I don't know," she muttered.

It was a lie, but he didn't need her ears to tell him that.

It was written in the Words From The Sky.

Tenet of Lumensa Fulfilled - Virtue +1 (5/9).

Whatever name she'd chosen was hers alone, and he didn't want to push further by asking what it was. Instead he rose to his feet and breathed the smell of breakfast.

"Looks like they've got eggs, bacon, some kind of cheese, maybe. Lots of sweets. What can I bring up for you?" he asked.

She scowled, determined not to allow the moment to settle as a bonding experience. But when Stump headed for the door, her small voice snagged him.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Bacon," she said.

Stump smiled. "Bacon it is."

After breakfast Stump made the trek down the cold and unlit hallway to Tydas' study, accompanied by a catfolk servant.

"Here you are," said the felari, once they reached the door. He made a graceful flourish, a shallow bow, then turned to leave.

"Thank you," said Stump.

The servant stopped abruptly. He cleared his throat as if dusting off words he rarely spoke. "You're welcome, sir Stump."

"Sir Stump? Sounds a bit silly, doesn't it? Like king stool, or lord boots."

The catfolk regarded him like his skin had turned blue.

"I knew a sir once. He was a lighthouse keeper. I think about him sometimes," Stump meandered, then extended a hand. "What's your name?"

"My…?" the servant's words garbled before they left his tongue. It must have been an odd question considering how cautiously he studied his hand without reaching for it. Stump was about to pull away when the catfolk lifted his paw.

"Ivis," he said uncertainly. "I'm Ivis."

"I'm glad to learn your name. It makes this place feel a little warmer," Stump said, smiling. "I think I'll see lord Tydas now."

Ivis gave an awkward bow before departing.

Stump turned to the door, wreathed in shadow. He knocked and drew the cool tones of the patriarch within.

"In," came the voice.

Stump obeyed, closing the door behind him. Several candles cast small orange bubbles in an otherwise dim room. Tydas was once again scribbling something onto parchment, but there was no servant waiting for him. He didn't look up.

"I wanted to let you know I'm taking the quest," said Stump.

The announcement halted Tydas' work. He placed the pen neatly aside and leaned back, interlocking his fingers over the desk. "You are?" he said. If he was surprised the lord of Peaktree did a commendable job hiding it.

"I am. I spoke with Kestrel."

"Offered to train you, did he?"

Stump nodded. "He said he would write me a letter of recommendation to the Amber Bastion as a reward for completing your quest."

Tydas' eyebrows inched up. "Quite the reward for a quick spell down the hill."

"I guess so," said Stump. "But I have further questions before I go."

"I'll try to allay your concerns." The lord of Peaktree raised a gloved hand to a chair.

Stump sank into it and was once again made aware of his own smallness. "What are you going to do if I find a vampire there?" he said.

"Kestrel will kill it."

"By your orders, or by his?"

The question caught Tydas flat-footed. For the first time Stump sensed a waver of discomfort in the man's voice. "We have an agreement, he and I."

"I understand," Stump said, trying not to appear too interrogative. "I know Kestrel has his reasons. But what are yours?"

"The war, as I've said. Protecting Aubany from Borovic."

Stump's thoughts turned to the session with Kestrel the night before. The Solarmancer had mentioned old wounds between Merra and Tydas. Calcified pains, he called them. Stump didn't want to doubt Tydas' desire to defend the city from invasion, especially with the estate being outside its walls, but he couldn't help but wonder if there were other motives left unsaid.

"If I find what you're looking for at the Orwen farm, I want you to promise you won't kill the vampire unless I can prove they're a spy," said Stump.

The look he received was cold. Tydas drummed his fingers on the desk. "Even if I were to agree, Kestrel will not."

"But it's your home. Your estate. If you talked to him…" Stump began, but registered a flicker of doubt in the manor lord. Learn to read people, Kestrel had said. "You're the lord of Peaktree. It's your word that's final. Isn't it?"

Tydas gave a tentative nod, then sighed and stood slowly. "This business with the Amber Bastion… Maven approved it initially. Somewhere along the way it got so lost," he said.

"She approved it…?"

The lord of Peaktree paced to the window, but the curtains had been drawn, letting only slivers of light bleed around the edges. "It wasn't my manor to begin with," he said softly. "It was hers."

"I thought you were the lord?" Stump's days in the tribe left him woefully unequipped to understand the intricacies of tall men hierarchies.

"I was, after I married her daughter. They've been here for many years before myself. It was my successes that grew Peaktree to what it is now. I could have lived south of the Brightwater, or in the city. But I chose here, away from the nobles, growing crops the Outerward rarely sees. I chose Merra. She and I were happy once. I still…"

The lord of the manor bowed his head and steadied himself against the wall.

Tenet of Lumensa Fulfilled - Virtue +1 (6/9)

Whatever realization dawned on him was as indecipherable as his emotions, and before Stump could delve any deeper, Tydas turned from the window, shaking his head.

"If the life of this vampire is so important to you, feel free to try to exonerate it," he said. "Be wary of their charms, however. Vampires are known to have a silver tongue and are talented in the art of manipulation. I will stay my own hand until your discovery leans the way I think it will. You have my word. But the Black Sun… he is another matter entirely."

"Denna…" Stump whispered.

He'd curled up near the hearth in the main hall and cupped the Sending Stone in his hands like it might be carried away on a breeze. "Denna, can you hear me?"

It was near midday and she was likely on the march to Thrung's cave, if she hadn't already found it. But after listening in silence and receiving no reply, Stump fit the stone back into his pouch.

She'll get back to me when she can. I only hope she brings good news of Yeza.

"This is training, is it?" Kestrel's jagged whisper startled him.

Stump turned to find the Solarmancer sauntering into the room and claiming one of the chairs by the fire.

"I spoke to Griza, the goblin Morg and I brought with us," Stump said, straightening to attention. "And lord Tydas, too. I managed to get some virtue out of it. I think I'm getting better at the whole thing."

Kestrel held up a hand, mildly amused. "It was in jest. But I'm pleased to hear it. I hope your encounters were as fruitful for them as they were for you."

Stump relaxed. "I took the quest, by the way. Orwen farm."

The Solarmancer was unsurprised. "You'll leave today, I take it?"

"Tomorrow morning. I want to make sure Morg's alright if I'm gone for a day or two."

"Lumensa's tenets will be important for you there. Keep at the mastery of that first tenet, but you may begin the second lesson while you're away. Hidden knowledge. Secrets important to you. As long as you desire to complete the quest, uncovering the whereabouts and identity of this vampire will benefit you."

It'll benefit you too, I suppose, thought Stump. "And Tydas says he won't kill them if I can prove they're not a spy from Borovic," he said, and studied the lizardfolk's reaction.

Kestrel's jaw tightened. "Your idea, was it?"

Stump nodded and carefully pushed further. "He told me about the Dusk of Dawns, or… the Bloody Moons? Something about the vampires in control of the city, and how they send spies over here to cause trouble. But I'm sure there are some vampires who are just escaping their past. Like me."

Kestrel smiled thinly, but his eyes didn't smile with him. "Know vampires of that kind, do you?"

"No," Stump said, suppressing the heat rising to his face. He hoped the Solarmancer was untrained in the eye of spotting a lying goblin. "I just know… well, I know there are a lot of people living in the Downs who are running away from something. I'm one of those people. Or… was. I seem to be running back to my past, now."

"What else did Tydas tell you?" said the lizardfolk, deftly avoiding any conversational detours.

"Not very much."

"He told you I'm a vampire hunter."

"He did."

Kestrel hadn't blinked in more than a minute. When he finally did, his shoulders relaxed. He looked away in thought, then stood and walked to the hearth. Once he was fully in its glow he loosened the fabrics around his neck and pulled his shirt collar down. His skin was cracked with dark wrinkles and grey patches of necrosis from chin to chest, and two faint bite marks sat above his collarbone.

Stump looked away.

"It's alright," said Kestrel. "I'm showing you so you understand."

Reluctantly Stump looked back. "Does it hurt?" His voice was small.

"Only while I speak," Kestrel said, the words sounding like blades in his throat. "I lost a lot of blood, but I never turned. I was young, not even with the Bastion, yet. I lived in Brinetown with my mother and father, you see, and we made our way selling what we could catch from the sea."

"You're from the Downs?" Stump asked. He wasn't sure why the admission surprised him as much as it did.

The Solarmancer nodded, but he wasn't watching Stump. His pupils reflected the yellow flicker of the fire. "We were. My mother started a business selling underwater finds my father fished. Trinkets. Old pieces of Aubany before Lumensa fell. It wasn't much, but it kept us alive. Someone came to the Downs. They were from far away, I was told, the only survivor of their caravan. We knew the roads were dangerous and so my mother took him in. We fed him, sheltered him, despite our own troubles."

"That was very kind of your family."

Kestrel scoffed sadly. "It didn't take long for us to uncover what he really was. He begged my mother and father not to tell anyone. Vampirism is a crime punishable by death in Aubany, and he knew that. We did, too. They never would have told, of course, and we said as much, but…"

Stump didn't dare interrupt, even during the long silence that hung like a noose between them.

"I was lucky, if you can call it that. Others had already uncovered who he was and were on their way. When they found me, I was half dead and his teeth were in my neck. And after he fled, and I looked up to find… I recognized the clothes of my mother first. But I didn't recognize her face, or my father's. They looked like they'd been burned, melted, had the essence of what made them who they were drained from their faces."

Stump opened his mouth to say something, to apologize for his pain, to console him, but even with all his genuine concern the words forming on his tongue felt weightless.

He tried, anyway.

"That's terrible, Kestrel. I didn't have a nice childhood, but I can't imagine the pain you've gone through. I barely remember my mother, and my father wasn't very kind," he said. "Our past is like our shadow, clinging to our heels. At least that's what Chrona says. I think. But it's only a shadow. It's not me, and it's not you. It runs from the light when the sun rises, but we don't. Whatever your past is, you still get to decide your tomorrows."

Stump was surprised by his own words, but the tenet and virtue he expected never came. The fire crackled, the wood snapped, and Kestrel stood like stone. Whatever darkness shrouded the soul of the Black Sun was too deep even for the Bright Queen's light.

He turned from the fire. "I understand your misguided hesitance. And I respect Tydas' practicality. But spy or no, the next vampire I meet will be killed by my hand."