by Pirateaba
What was this? What was he seeing? Goblin and Human? Why did that strike him as so odd? So—
Special? Was that the word? But the moment passed even as the skeleton watched. The Human’s hand dropped and her body relaxed. But her smile remained. And the Goblin holding her wept.
Toren looked away. He didn’t attack the weeping Goblin. Instead, he slowly walked into an alley as the other Goblin warriors ran to the two, crying out, making sounds of—
He didn’t understand. So he walked away, leaving the Goblins behind.
—-
This is the story of a monster. This is the story of monsters. For as Ylawes stood with his companions and the celebrating Humans, he heard a cry.
“Goblins!”
He turned, reaching exhausted for a sword, but called out when he saw the approaching Goblins. They’d been poised to run, but as Ylawes strode towards them they halted.
Arrows and spells were aimed at them but the Goblins just looked lost. Four were holding the body between them and the last just stared up at Ylawes as he approached. He halted when he saw the young woman’s body, the face he recognized.
“Is she…?”
The Goblin nodded. He stared up at Ylawes, and the adventurer looked down at the dead girl. Her face had been ravaged by famine, and dirt and filth had created a mask over her face. But she smiled. It was a simple expression, but it shone even in death, despite all she had endured.
Ylawes remembered seeing her before. He remembered a monster. But what he saw was a young woman, smiling upwards. Only that.
Slowly, the adventurer looked at the Goblins. They stared back at him. Silent.
“I saw your leader kill the Goblin commander.”
Silence.
“I saw your archer down the [Shamans]. Few Human [Archers] I know could do that.”
They just stared at him. Ylawes nodded at the Goblin in front.
“You slew the skeleton. Without that, we might have died before reinforcements could arrive.”
Slowly, the Goblins laid down the body of the Human girl on the ground. They ignored Ylawes completely. One of the Goblins with a bloody scalp slowly crossed the young woman’s arms over her chest. He hesitated, hand on hers. Then he turned away.
“May we never meet again.”
Ylawes called it at their backs. But the Goblins didn’t even acknowledge his presence. They just walked away.
—-
They found Grunter before they left. There wasn’t much of the Hob, but the Redfang warriors gathered around his corpse for a moment. Then they walked on.
They found Badarrow, laughing, shaking as he sat amid the arrows that had nearly killed him. Three arrows had found him, but the one meant for his chest had been horribly made. The glue had broken off and the arrowhead had barely penetrated his skin. He was still laughing about how he’d never hate another arrow when they found him.
Then Badarrow just bowed his head. He stood up and looked towards the body, but the other Humans were around her. The Redfang warriors slowly walked out of the city, avoiding the undead.
Silent.
This is a story of a band of Goblins, and how they left a city behind them as they walked out into the snow and darkness. They left behind their leader, over half their number and a Human girl in the city. And they left something as well. Perhaps it was a bit of their hearts.
This is the story of monsters. Of Goblins. But they had names.
Rabbiteater.
Bugear.
Numbtongue.
Shorthilt.
Badarrow.
Headscratcher.
This is their story. This is the story of how they found and left Esthelm, a city of the desperate, the dead, and those who struggled even in the darkness. This is their story. This is how it began.
—-
This is the story of a skeleton. He walked away from the city whose name he hadn’t even known, beaten. Defeated not just by swords and sorcery, but by something he didn’t even have a name for.
He walked away, not alone physically, but alone nevertheless. Thirteen zombies and a Ghoul walked with him, silent, unthinking. They were tools, that was all. And Toren realized that a tool was not enough. Killing was not enough.
He was alone, purposeless again. He had failed. Toren walked on, staring at the sky. And he began to realize there were still some things he didn’t understand in this world. So he left the city where the living had reclaimed their pride. He left the Goblins, the adventurer wearing silver armor, and the monster who had become a girl behind.
And the dead walked with him.
To Liscor.
Back home.
3.21 L
Pawn stared at the ranks of Soldiers under his command and realized that he’d made a mistake.
Somewhere.
He’d definitely made one a while back, when he’d brought the idea of Gods into the Hive of the Free Antinium in Liscor. That had been a mistake—or at least, telling the Soldiers had been.
Hadn’t it?
It had helped them. Pawn that thought it would save them, but it had only led to a terrible moment where they slaughtered each other to find a better place. He’d stopped that—
But at a terrible cost. Nearly an entire barracks’ worth of Soldiers had been injured, and hundreds had died. Still, many had been saved, and Pawn had realized what his true mission was that day. To make a Heaven for the Antinium. To make a place, a way that they would not die forgotten and alone.
And he had leveled up after that night, hadn’t he? He was now a Level 6 [Acolyte] with the Skill of [Humble Presence], which was surely a boon to the Hive. And Klbkch had given him command of the remaining Soldiers—
Perhaps that was the mistake. Revalantor Klbkch had made the mistake here, because Pawn was sure of one thing. He couldn’t lead the Soldiers.
He had no idea how.
Pawn stared down at the ranks of silent, immobile giants aligned into perfect ranks in front of him. The Soldiers stood patiently, waiting for his command. Perhaps they would wait there forever, even if he left.
Such thoughts were terrifying to Pawn. He was no leader. Except, in a very real sense, he was. Moreover, those under his command needed him. If nothing else, Pawn had to ensure they didn’t die of their injuries.
Yes, every Soldier standing at attention was technically walking—or rather, standing—wounded. Of course they didn’t show any signs of pain, despite some having cracked carapaces or missing limbs. One Soldier was missing his right eye, but he looked at Pawn as if nothing was wrong.
At least…they were here with him, rather than fighting as they would be normally. Even though the Soldiers here were injured, Pawn knew that they would still have normally been assigned to combat duty if it weren’t for him.
The most wounded Soldier could fight after only a few days of rest. Of course, they’d be missing limbs but that didn’t matter when they hurled themselves into combat. Pawn had requested the foul, stinging ooze to begin regenerating their body parts, but it was a precious commodity and so the Soldiers would be weeks or even months in regrowing their limbs.
And in the meantime, what did Pawn do? He stared at his Soldiers, and they stared back. He couldn’t send them to battle. He couldn’t.
And yet, they were his responsibility. He had to make something of them. That was what Klbkch had told him. This was a test—
And Pawn had no idea how to pass it. He was pretty sure on how to fail, but what could he do with the Soldiers? All he had done was give them false hope—
And get a lot of them killed.
Pawn shook his head and the Soldier seemed to straighten even more. It had been five minutes since he’d entered the mess hall and found the Soldiers waiting for him. He had to give them an order, he knew. They needed direction.
Hesitantly, the Worker cleared his throat.
“You will not be expected to fight today.”
The Soldiers just stared at him. Did they feel relieved? Disappointed?
Confused? Pawn didn’t know. Their faces were as incomprehensible to him as all Antinium were to other species. But he knew they did have feelings.
“Um…just go about your daily routine. That is to say—”
Pawn paused. He had to be a leader. So he firmed his tone.
“Attend meal times as normal. However, since you are not assigned to any post, return to your barracks to rest in the meantime. I will…find something for you to do, and try to visit you and tell stories. Alright?”
The Soldiers didn’t respond. But they turned and immediately began filing out of the room, heading towards the barracks. Pawn watched them go, limp with relief.
At least they listened to him. But did they resent him for telling them about God and Heaven? Did they feel regret for their brothers that had died in the mass suicide attempt?
Surely they did. But Pawn couldn’t ask, because the Soldiers couldn’t speak. The Worker anxiously paced back and forth as the other Workers assigned to food serving duty watched him nervously. He was commanding Soldiers. Pawn knew they would fight the monsters that came out of the dungeon and patrol and guard—but was there anything else they did?
He’d never known. And now he had to ask. But who would be able to tell him?
Not other Workers. Klbkch perhaps—but Pawn didn’t feel comfortable asking the Revalantor questions like that. Who else might know?
The Queen? Pawn would have rather slapped Klbkch than ask his Queen anything. No. No, there were only two other beings in the Hive who might know.
Belgrade and Anand. They were [Tacticians]. They’d leveled up in that class and been assigned roles leading Soldiers. They would know.
Pawn found his two former chess companions after only half an hour of searching. It wasn’t as if Belgrade and Anand left signs pointing out their location in the Hive, but Pawn knew where they ate and slept. Happily, he found them doing neither and instead, playing chess in the special break room reserved for Individuals.
The two Workers sat at a chess table, watched by a small crowd of other Workers. They stood out. Perhaps it was the way they held themselves. With confidence and pride. Or maybe it was just that Pawn knew them so well. He sat next to them and they nodded at him, familiar and warm as the Antinium ever got.
“Pawn. It is good to see you here today.”
That came from Belgrade. He nodded precisely as he placed a knight in the attack position, threatening a pawn from Anand.
“Indeed. I was worried you were being punished by Klbkch.”
Anand ignored the attack on his pawns and instead countered Belgrade with an aggressive push from his queen on the left side, threatening a bishop. Belgrade paused. Pawn observed the playing with interest, his mind half on the game.
It was true that he, Belgrade, and Anand all looked the same. But they were all different from each other—vastly different in terms of personality. Belgrade was a stickler for tactics and the openings Erin had taught them. He played defensively, cautiously. Almost too much, but it was necessary against Anand’s aggressive tactics. In speech as well, they tended to reflect their traits. It was remarkable, Pawn reflected, that any Workers could be so…unique.
He nodded to the two as the game continued, both Workers moving their pieces quickly and only pausing for a few seconds even for the hardest decisions. They were clearly playing a lightning game, although there was no timer. Antinium had no need of such devices.
“I thank you for your concern. I am not being punished by Revalantor Klbkch, Anand. But I am in distress.”
“Indeed?”
“What’s the problem?”
“You may be aware that I have been assigned a command of Soldiers. I am unsure how to properly lead them, and what roles they may fulfill within the Hive. Thus, I have come to you.”
The Antinium also didn’t do much small talk. Belgrade and Anand paused for a moment. Then Belgrade tipped over his king.
“I cannot win this match. Another round?”
“Yes.”
The two reset the board, moving pieces with amazing synchronization. Pawn waited patiently. The game began with a classic King’s Gambit Accepted opening before Anand spoke.
“My experience with leading Soldiers occurs mainly in embattled tunnels and areas of the Hive in which conflict occurs. I direct their movements, reinforce them with Skills, and order retreats and designate targets as necessary.”
“That is my experience as well.”
Belgrade nodded. He placed a knight on the board delicately and stopped. Pawn had observed that Belgrade liked using knight pieces to open with.
“I have supervised Soldiers aiding in digging and construction at times. But Workers are more suited to those tasks. Patrolling, fighting, guarding, and scouting are the only roles I have seen them fulfill.”
Pawn felt his antennae droop. But he hadn’t really expected anything else.
“I see. And you have not ever seen them do anything for—for entertainment?”
Both of the other Workers paused and turned to Pawn. He knew they were surprised. If they had eyebrows, they would have been raising them.
“The Antinium have no entertainment.”
“Nor any other form of leisurely activity. This game of chess is as close as we have to it.”
“I know. It is just—I wish to give the Soldiers something more. You are aware of the details surrounding their injuries?”
“I am.”
“It was your fault, correct?”
Pawn nodded at Anand, acknowledging the truth.
“Yes. I regret my stupidity. And yet, I must now lead them. But I am no leader, no [Tactician] as you two are. You have continued to level. May I ask what level you are now?”
“Fifteen.”
Belgrade adjusted a piece on the crude board, meticulously centering it in the square before he moved it.
“Sixteen.”
Anand waited until the piece had moved to swiftly take it with a bishop. Belgrade made no audible response, but Pawn knew he was annoyed at making such a simple mistake.
“I am now a Level 6 [Acolyte].”
“Indeed? Congratulations are in order for such swift advancement.”
Belgrade and Anand turned. Both nodded at Pawn. He nodded back, feeling happy for their praise.
“It is just that I fail to see how my class can help the Soldiers. I barely know what to do with myself.”
“Perhaps Revalantor Klbkch sees something in you that cannot be defined by your class.”
Anand speculated as Belgrade attempted to regain lost ground. Pawn nodded slowly. He looked around at the other Workers.
They just stared at the board. He knew they were listening, but the other Workers—Individuals and Workers groomed to be Individuals—they had no spark. Not like Belgrade, Anand, and Bird. Those three Workers had what Pawn considered personality. The other Workers in the room were more like statues.
Soulless.
That was the word for it. It disturbed Pawn, although he couldn’t say why. Were the Soldiers like that? In a way, yes. Both they and the Workers kept their feelings, their true selves on the inside, if they even had a self at all. What could Pawn do for them, besides send them to die? What could he—?
“Pawn. Revalantor Klbkch approaches.”
Belgrade looked up and Pawn turned in his seat. The other Workers standing around the board scattered to make lots of room for the slim, unique Antinium as he marched quickly towards Pawn.
“Pawn.”
Just that one word made Pawn’s insides knot up. He hadn’t even known they could do that, but then, he’d seldom felt…trepidation before. But Klbkch scared him, and every time they met, Pawn couldn’t help but feel like he was doing everything wrong.
A feeling which was reinforced by Klbkch’s next words. The Revalantor stopped in front of him.
“Did you give your Soldiers orders this morning?”
Pawn cringed a bit. Was he not supposed to?
“Yes I did. Was anythin
g—”
“They went back to their barracks and began to rest. They remained in the barracks when another shift came to rest, causing a delay.”
Oh no. Pawn’s insides twisted further, and he saw both Belgrade and Anand pause in playing chess. How could he have forgotten? The Antinium had no personal quarters—rather, they slept and worked and ate at allotted times, in shifts. When one shift slept, another one would work, and then the sleeping shift would switch with another one.
That was the most efficient use of resources and it meant places like the barracks could be used at all times. Pawn had—he’d ordered his Soldiers to take up the space meant for other exhausted Soldiers ending their shift!
The Antinium couldn’t blush, but Pawn lowered his head and antennae. He’d already messed up. And it was such a stupid mistake to make too!
“Forgive me, Revalantor Klbkch. I did not consider that when I gave my orders to the Soldiers. I am terribly—”
“I have taken care of it. Your Soldiers are being stationed in safe locations on protective detail. In the future do not make the same mistake.”
Klbkch’s voice was flat. He turned to go. Pawn looked at his back despairingly and called out.
“Revalantor Klbkch.”
The Antinium turned. He was graceful, deadly. He walked as if the two swords by his side were meant for him, and he never looked uncertain. How Pawn envied him.
“What is it, Pawn?”
“What should I do with the Soldiers under my command? Am I to lead them into battle?”
“No. You have only a single Skill in the [Tactician] class and you are too valuable to risk in battle. Moreover, the Soldiers are wounded. Your command over them is experimental.”
“Then—what purpose will we serve?”
Klbkch paused. He looked Pawn straight in the eye.
“I do not know. Surprise me. Or pray for an idea. That is your Skill, is it not?”
He turned and left. Belgrade and Anand stopped their game and watched him go. After a while, the other Workers walked back and resumed watching their game. Belgrade paused.