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

Stump stood in the road with the pearl to his face, its faint glow undulating with the crackle of fire, mimicking the flames that forged Fire-Spitter, king of the goblins.

"Ergul…" There was another chuckle, this one more sadistic despite the effort. "…I knew you'd live."

Stump took a breath. His lips had gone dry. He licked them, and whispered into the stone. "Thrung?" It came out almost as pained as his barbecued adversary.

The invoking of his true name didn't appear to bother the goblin. Like a fire it only stoked the power in Thrung's voice. "Jaessun wouldn't let you die. Not by anyone else's hand. Only by mine," he said.

"How did you… where did you get the stone?" Stump's hand trembled. The bloodlust gushed through his veins, but this time he couldn't control it. He blinked. The world blurred.

"Fate is a strange thing to bring you back to me again so soon," Thrung went on, ignoring him. "All the time we spent worshipping Grumul was for nothing. His powers lie with him, in his grave. It's Jaessun's blessings I take now. He is deserving of our worship. As am I."

"Thrung, where is she? Where is Denna?"

Pops and wheezes interrupted their pause. "Ahh…" Thrung sneered. "They screamed as they burned. Most of the armour melted into their bodies, but I managed to take a few gifts for myself. Once I find you and drag you back to our cave I'll fit a helmet over you. And Yeza too. Together you can burn side by side."

Fear wrestled with anger in Stump's chest, neither gaining the upper hand. The result was a frantic brew of light-headedness and the bubbling desire to tear to shreds the nearest life form. "I'll… I'll find you, Thrung. If you hurt Yeza, I'll…"

"My warriors returned to me, babbling about a goblin protecting the land of the tall men with light magic," Thrung cut him off. "Who do I know who would spit on his own kin to help our enemies? Who do I know possessed with such weak power? No, Ergul… I know where you are. I will find you."

"This has nothing to do with the tall men. This is between you and me. You killed Denna… Thrung, if you harm Yeza… I will tear the limbs from whatever is left of your shrivelled body."

Another chuckle. "I'd like to see you try."

The hiss and crackling receded and was replaced by the crunch of grass and leaves underfoot. But there was a second sound. Chittering. Lots of it, from every direction. A goblin hollered, and dozens echoed.

The Sending Stone fell silent.

A breeze stirred swirls of dust and tugged Stump's cloak in the direction of Peaktree Manor. He gazed down the road, watching puffy pink clouds sail above the hilltops. To the east a jagged wall of fungus swayed ominously, and somewhere beneath the shadowed canopy marched an army of goblins.

The bloodlust sent Stump barrelling towards the barn.

He shouldered the door open hard enough to wake the three slumbering members of Stillwater, and rushed over to Griza.

"Griza, Griza, we have to go," he said, shaking her awake.

"Hmmm…" her eyes blinked open, but she nuzzled into the bedroll.

"Griza, Thrung is coming," he said, louder. "Fire-Spitter is coming to Peaktree." Groggy questions from Rilla and Tallas landed at his back, but he ignored them—"What are you on about?" "Peaktree?" "Fire-What?"

Griza blinked again and looked up as she struggled to pull herself out of whatever dream she'd fallen into. "What? Fire… what?"

"I talked to him," Stump said while acknowledging the absurdity of it without further context. "He's on his way to Peaktree Manor right now to burn it down. He knows I'm there—was there."

Her eyes searched his face. "Then that's the last place we should be," she said, trying and failing to sit up.

"What do you mean he knows you were there?" As if sleep were a pair of greaves that could be shrugged off, Rilla was already standing and alert as ever. In one hand she held her sheathed sword, and in the other her armour. "You were at Peaktree before this?"

Tallas was still under his blanket, propped up on his elbows. He rubbed his eyes. "You're working with the tyrant?" he said.

Stump crossed the room and addressed Wick, who was awkwardly slipping on his boots. "That goblin king I told you about, he's headed for Peaktree Manor. There's a hundred goblins under his command. Maybe more. We need to go there now to defend it," he said.

The ratfolk fell onto a bale of hay and splayed his hands on his knees. His gaze briefly bounced off Rilla. "Right," he said, his sluggish mind still catching up. "But what about our quest?"

"We're not leaving," Rilla declared. "Peaktree's no concern to us. It's the Orwens we're protecting."

Stump didn't look back at her. "Please, Wick. My friend is there and he's injured. And there's a little girl, and servants. They can't defend it by themselves."

Wick's signature frown kept the barn in silence for a long moment. Finally he stood, nodding. "We're going to Peaktree," he said. "Tallas, let Durg and Hadder know."

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Before Tallas could rise, Rilla spoke. "No," she said. "We're not. Our fame will take a hit if we abandon our quest."

The words struck Wick like a mallet. "B-but we need to. Th-those people will be in d… danger." To his credit he raised his voice, but his directive was aimed at the floor, and his posture was slumped.

Rilla took a step towards him. "They'll be in danger here. And we'll be in danger there. Our company is our prerogative, my prerogative." She took another step, then another.

Wick shuffled back, and his gaze retreated even further down the barn floor. "Our f-f-fame will in…incr-increase if we help them. Uh… we should… we need…" he backed into a beam.

Stay strong, Wicket. Please. You're their leader.

"We're helping them!" he said, pushing off the wood and meeting Rilla's gaze nearly nose to nose. He was taller than her, almost by a foot, but slowly whatever fire straightened his spine began to fizzle under her icy stare.

"It's by my direction you still have a company to call your own," she said. His eyes dipped low again, but she refused to back away. "If there are a hundred goblins headed to Peaktree then that's a hundred reasons for us to stay away. There's no payment for us here or there. But here at least we can start to piece together the fame you managed to drag through the mud."

Wick returned to his seat on the stack of hay with a defeated sigh. "I'm s…sorry, Stump. Sh-she's right."

"I'll pay you," said Stump. All heads swivelled in his direction. "Half my share for the Peaktree protection job. Seven silver pieces. But we need to go now."

Rilla was stubborn, but she wasn't stupid, and Stump was beginning to learn that goblins and tall men weren't as different as he used to think.

All they wanted was something that glimmered.

They had packed and were gathered outside the Orwen house within minutes.

"Ye bring us back a couple o' goblin ears, yeh?" Durgish said, slapping Tallas on the back.

Griza snarled.

"Eh… meanin' no offence, little lady. Makes for a good stew, is all."

"I'm not a lady," she seethed.

Rilla, Tallas, and Wick shouldered packs of arms and armaments. Stump was armoured in hide and carried his adventurer's pack while holding on tightly to Griza's rope despite how strongly she protested as they geared up.

"Cut me loose," she pleaded. "I can fight."

He was tempted. She'd been warming up to him, after all, and they would need every pair of hands they could get to protect Peaktree from Thrung, but it was still too risky. He was lowering his guard around her more often. He was even starting to like her, but it would take much longer to build real trust, especially when it clashed with her loyalty to the tribe.

"It's been wonderful having you here," Nell said to Rilla. "Bright Queen shine on you in your foray into the woods. I hope you return soon." She slid in for a hug, which Rilla accepted only because it was difficult to deny under the weight of her supplies.

The ratfolk gave Nell a strong pat on the arm and chuckled uncomfortably. "If things go the way I think they will, we'll be back within the day. Until then we're leaving you Hadder and Durgish for protection."

Faelan visited each mercenary in turn, clasping their hands and whispering words of encouragement. When he came to Stump, he bent low.

"I'm glad to have met a goblin who fights for our plight," he said.

Stump gulped, then nodded. "Right."

It was another lie. They'd informed the Orwens of a goblin Scout spotted fleeing north, and Stump claimed to know the cave he was retreating to. They'd be back in a day or so, once they'd cleared out the goblins, they said.

Faelan's smile mirrored the warmth of his grasp. "There's good in all of us, even among the monsters beyond the Bright Queen's shroud. We're all in this world together, aren't we?"

They were off long before the sun rose above the horizon, addled by a lack of sleep and the desire to move quickly. Rilla was at the head, to no one's surprise, and made a show of constantly scanning the horizon and nearby forest for goblin threats.

Tallas and Wick traded conversation a few paces behind her. The ratfolk, who always walked with a nervous hunch, looked nearly folded in on himself with the pack on his shoulders. Tallas strode with more leisure, but an exaggerated yawn hinted at his unsteady wakefulness.

Stump panted keeping up.

"Did you really talk to Fire-Spitter?" Griza asked, shuffling next to him. "Or did you lie?"

He'd almost forgotten she was there. "Hm? I talked to him," he said and produced the Sending Stone. "Through this. The same way I listened to Morg with the bandits. It should have been with…" Stump's pace slowed at the thought of Denna. Knots tightened in his stomach. "With my friend. She was… her name was…" Breathing was hard.

Griza stopped with him in the road and adopted an expression that might generously be called concern. "Fire-Spitter killed her," she said flatly. "He'll kill anyone who stands in his way, Ergul. As would any true goblin."

Flashes of conversation with Denna tugged his heart. The stars. Her wonder. The lighthouse, the first time they met. Her auburn hair aglow next to his lumen.

Stump squeezed his eyes shut to chase away tears. He couldn't show Griza any weakness, not after they'd made such progress. "I know," he managed. "Like how I'm going to kill him."

The words weren't entirely convincing, even to himself, but Griza nodded, and the two of them resumed their march. As they crested the first hill outside the Orwen farm, her stomach growled.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"I was already hungry. I told you."

Stump dropped the pack at his feet and rifled through for scraps of bacon. Up ahead Rilla turned, spotted them, and sauntered over with an impatient frown.

"You're the one who wanted to head to Peaktree in such a hurry," she said.

"I'll be quick," Stump promised. "We know the way. I can catch up if you keep going."

Rilla's lack of a retort was welcome but surprising. As Stump curled his fingers around their snack he gazed up at the ratfolk to see what might've caught her attention. She was focused on the road back the way they'd come, her eyes wide. Her jaw hung open.

"Bright Queen save us," she breathed.

Gasps escaped the other mercenaries, and when Stump turned to follow the source of their shock, the Orwen house was on fire.

"Tallas, Wicket, with me!" Rilla called. Her sword screeched out of its sheath as quickly as her packs thudded beside her. "Take your weapons, leave your supplies!"

The call to action registered slowly for the other two. They fumbled free of their inventory and reluctantly drew their weapons, fear scrawled on their faces. They charged after their would-be commander back down the hill.

Stump coughed away the cloud of dust in their wake and drew the hatchet from the side of his adventurer's pack. He made to follow, but Griza wouldn't budge.

"Cut me free!" she said, half stepping, half hopping towards him.

"Griza, I… I can't," he said. He looked from her to the rapidly receding mercenaries, to the flames engulfing the Orwen farm and the many skittering shapes around it. I was wrong, he thought. Why are they here first?

She threw herself against him, close enough for his nose to wrinkle at the heat of her breath. "Free me!" she demanded. In her eyes the bloodlust burned. "I can fight better than you, Ergul!"

He grabbed the rope and held the blade against it, but hesitated.

"What are you waiting for?" she spat.

Stump took a breath, then frayed the constraints. She burst free, snatched the hatchet from his grasp, and sprung past him.

"Give me that. Use your magic," she said and sprinted down the hill.

He followed close behind, surrendering to the bloodlust.