Death Knight Box Set

by Michael Chatfield

  “Might I know where the head goblin alchemist lives?” Anthony asked.

  “Rare for a human to know about goblins,” Todd said.

  “Learn a few things travelling.” Anthony shrugged.

  Todd gave him directions. “Tommie should be round in a few minutes. He can take you there.”

  “That works. Come on, Aila. Hurry up,” Anthony said.

  Aila had a mouthful of food and glared at him, as she now had to shovel down her first fresh breakfast in days.

  Chapter: Each Story Has Two Sides

  Tommie walked up to his dad’s tavern. Opening the old familiar doors, he walked inside. He waved and greeted a few people he knew as he made his way up to the bar, where his father was talking to some patrons.

  “Tommie! Those two want to go into elven territory. Knight’s called Anthony; the other’s Aila.” He lowered his voice, making Tommie lean in.

  “She’s an elf, one of them dark types,” Todd said.

  “I should get you to run our caravans instead of Old Mister Watts!” Tommie said.

  “Well, I know you’ve already been in town for a week, which means you’ll likely be heading out soon.” Todd’s voice dropped.

  “Don’t be like that, Dad. It’s not like I’m leaving forever,” Tommie said.

  “I know, but you’re all I’ve got, you know,” Todd said.

  “Need to get you a dog, or a girlfriend. You and Mom broke up fifteen years ago.”

  “I don’t know about that—not many interested in an old barman!” Todd said gruffly as he started polishing his bar.

  Tommie shook his head, knowing how the old gnome was just trying to cover over his excitement. He’d had more than one girlfriend since Tommie’s mother had broken up with him.

  He was still a young gnome. It’s not a gnome’s fault that we’re great lovers, which made their time together as passionate as the times they were breaking apart!

  “I’ll go and talk to your customers.” Tommie tapped on the bar.

  He turned and went over to the duo. As he walked over, he looked at the people in the tavern. He could feel the fear in them, that fear that was turning into frustration and anger, wanting to lash out at the person who was responsible. He was a friend to a number of goblins. The normal goblins were little more than curious children while the hobgoblins looked after them and helped them achieve maturity.

  They looked simple on the outside but they had a complex family herd system. Although they were master crafters, they could create powerful explosives and no one wanted to deal with a battle-ready troop of goblin grenadiers.

  They didn’t lie and although they were eccentric, they were good people. Gnomes shared that eccentric trait with them as well, the two groups either getting along famously or falling out with one another infamously.

  He could see the anger brewing in his town and he didn’t know what to do.

  “Hello, the name’s Tommie,” he said as he walked up to the table.

  “You heading to one of the elven cities?” Anthony, the knight, asked.

  “In three days.” Tommie nodded.

  “Got two spots?” Anthony said.

  “Sure. Be fifty coppers apiece or one silver,” Tommie said.

  “Do you know any of the goblins around here?”

  “I know a few. Why?” Tommie asked.

  “You know where the head goblin alchemist lives?” Anthony asked.

  “Why?” Tommie didn’t want to endanger the head goblin alchemist. They were the leader of the goblin community, after all.

  “I don’t think that the goblins were the ones to blow up the Brilliant Tower of Dark Clouds. I just want to talk to them and check,” Anthony said.

  “Why would you want to do that?” Tommie’s aloof attitude had disappeared as he peered into Anthony’s helmet, unable to see anything inside.

  “He can’t help putting his head into other people’s problems,” Aila, the elf, said from the other side, glaring at Anthony.

  “What can I say? If I think that there is something wrong, I have to help out. It’s what a Guardian—a warrior—does,” Anthony said.

  Tommie looked at Anthony a bit longer before he sighed. “All right. Yeah, I can take you over to her.”

  “Goblin alchemists are the best—one of the quirkiest group of people.” Anthony clapped his hands with a loud clang and stood up.

  Aila made a muffled noise as she started pushing more food into her mouth.

  “I’ll just go and check this out with Tommie. Meet you here or where the caravan leaves from. Where are we going from, Tommie?”

  “Over at the southern gate. Can’t miss it. Third morning from now,” Tommie said.

  Aila made eye contact with Anthony, as if trying to relay a message to him.

  “We’ll be back before then. Don’t worry about us,” Anthony said, trying to calm her down before he turned to Tommie. “Lead on. We have a head alchemist to see!”

  Tommie could see that wasn’t what Aila meant by the way she glared at Anthony, but quickly cleared his throat and led him away, not knowing whether Anthony had missed the message or was trying to cover his own ass.

  Tommie led the way out of the tavern, waving to his dad and heading for the slums to the west.

  ***

  Tommie knocked on a door in a set code before a little window opened. Gnomes, like goblins, were both from the shorter races.

  “What do you want?” the goblin asked in Gob. The goblin tongue sounded like a series of grunts, squeaks, and whistles thrown together, with liberal hand gestures.

  Tommie’s Gob was much weaker and he took his time to respond.

  There were noises from farther inside the building as the goblin at the door turned around in a huff and chittered and squeaked back.

  Goblins always remind me of little annoyed kids. Cute little buggers. Anthony squatted beside Tommie so the goblins weren’t forced to look up, a common courtesy when dealing with the shorter races.

  Anthony understood Gob, so he could hear what they were both saying.

  “Gnome Tommie, tasty foods came, has tall shiny man with him. Want to talk to master, lord, tippy top boomer!”

  Boomer was actually said in common.

  Many historians think that explosions were only a later addition to the goblin’s lifestyle and lives because it isn’t part of their original dictionary. Wonder what crazy bastard taught them how to make things explode.

  A voice came back from inside the house.

  “They come with more tall people? Stabbys?”

  “One stabby, big stabby, and small quick stabby,” the goblin at the door replied.

  “Take stabbys, let them in,” the other voice said.

  Much more articulate; their squeaks are more pronounced. It must be a hobgoblin.

  The goblin and Tommie talked again before Anthony and Tommie gave him their swords and Tommie’s dagger. They disappeared and a moment later, the door was opened.

  They ducked into the house beyond but it quickly opened up so Anthony wasn’t hitting his head on anything, showing that there must be at least one hobgoblin inside.

  The goblin brought them forward, puffing out his little chest. His crooked overbite made him look more adorable than powerful.

  They passed other goblins that were living on bunk beds. Some were sleeping; one was laying off the bed, letting out little snores as spit ran down his face and fell on the floor. Other goblins were moving different things around the room.

  They entered the communal area, where there was a pot with food being made. A tired-looking hobgoblin sat in the middle of the room next to the pot where the meal was being made.

  “You know, many people think that hobgoblins are angry all the time. They are most of the time, but most of them are just annoyed. Looking after twenty to fifty goblins at a time is enough to drive anyone a bit loopy,” Anthony said.

  “If they don’t have anything to do, then they can get into trouble,” the hobgoblin said in a gr
uff voice.

  Anthony hummed and gargled before talking in Gob. “My name is Anthony. I was wondering if I could ask some questions about the boom boom that happened the other day. Could I talk to your head alchemist? I am friend of goblins and of High Hob Council,” Anthony said. “I am neutral and hope that I can help in solving this crime.”

  The goblin looked at Anthony and then to Tommie.

  “You trust?” he asked Tommie.

  “Seems trustworthy,” Tommie said after a few moments.

  Anthony nodded at Tommie’s response. “Too few people don’t understand the value that hobs and gobs place on trust and their word.”

  “Few take time to learn about it,” Tommie responded.

  The hobgoblin looked at them both before talking in Gob.

  “Wake head boomer. Bring other hobs,” the hobgoblin said.

  The goblins chittered and left, moving down the corridors to the other rooms. The whole house was set up in a circle, with one main entrance and other hidden entrances and exits and areas that the hobs and goblins lived and worked in.

  Other hobgoblins appeared. They were much larger than the goblins. Their skin was gray and they had pointed ears instead of the goblins’ floppy ears, and they had two big teeth that stuck out of their lower jaws.

  Many people thought that they and the orcs were cousins because of the greenish skin and the teeth, but the hobgoblins were wiry and not thick-built like the mad orcs, who were recognized as part of the extensive beast man race.

  “Hob Drull, ruin sleep time. Should be important,” one said, rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

  “Human and gnome guest?”

  “You bring head boom?”

  There was a dull shake in the room as some smoke appeared from a hallway.

  A smoking and blackened goblin returned, holding up their hand and opened its mouth before it fell forward on the ground.

  “Who woke me from my booming sleep!” a much louder hobgoblin said in Gob.

  A goblin wearing blackened goggles and a bandolier of different containers entered the room, looking at everyone there.

  “Greetings, high boomer. I am Anthony, come to ask about your booms!” Anthony said.

  “Human who knows booms?”

  “Booms yes!” Anthony said.

  The goblin head alchemist looked entertained as she took the main seat in the house.

  “Sort out smoky gob.” She waved other goblins about. Seven of them swarmed the small goblin, grabbing their head, arms, legs, and, in one case, a toe, lifting the smoking goblin, bouncing them with every step. They carried them out; the poor goblin let out groans as it hit the ground with the bumpy ride.

  “The explosion the other day, was that you?” Anthony asked in common.

  “Bah, silver sprite and red boom powder? Simple simple? All power, no boom boom!”

  Anthony looked at Tommie.

  “They like to make good, powerful-looking explosions.”

  “Was it a powerful explosion?”

  “Yes, but not that colorful,” Tommie said.

  “Art through explosives!” the head alchemist said with pride.

  “Nice booms! Colorful booms!” the goblins said like a school of repeating children.

  “So, are all goblin booms the same?” Anthony asked.

  “The same? Bah! Booms are booms! Every goblin should have their own boom!” the alchemist said.

  And we have left real sentences far behind, ladies and gentlemen! Anthony then frowned. “So the explosion at the water plant?”

  “No colorful boom, no goblin art! Was powerful boom, but no BOOM. Goblin show their skill, not hide it!” the head alchemist said.

  “So someone who wasn’t a goblin wouldn’t have advertised this,” Anthony said.

  “Strange words, confusing human,” another alchemist said.

  “So who other than the goblins would make explosives?”

  “Other races, explosives, pah! Humans skittish and scared. Gnomes all numbers and words!”

  “Gnomes testers, always curious, but only few with booms, most on machines and tech-nology,” the goblin alchemist said, finding it hard to form the words.

  “Which gnomes are interested in booms?” Anthony asked.

  Tommie had a grim look on his face but he didn’t say anything.

  “What that gnome name?” The alchemist turned to the hobgoblins.

  “Uhh, Talywack?”

  “No, like Smikenwoss,” the other said.

  “Wenic?”

  “No, but Wemic?”

  “Wemtic, that’s his name,” the head alchemist said. The other hobgoblins looked pleased with their “help.”

  “Do you know anything about this Wemtic?” Anthony asked them.

  “Sad gnome, lonely gnome, lost his tribe,” a hobgoblin said in a sad voice.

  “Big tribe or close tribe?” Anthony asked.

  “Close tribe,” another hobgoblin said.

  So he lost his family. Less to lose, and there might be more behind it.

  “He focused on boom boom, strong but no looksie,” the head alchemist said.

  “He say why he wanted to make boom?” Anthony asked.

  “Get justice, restore balance for his close tribe,” a hobgoblin said.

  “Did he say how?” Anthony asked.

  “No.” The head alchemist shook her head.

  Seeking justice, but one’s personal justice—might not be the law’s or other’s justice.

  “Do you know this Wemtic?” Anthony looked at Tommie.

  “I do.” Tommie sighed.

  “Thank you for bringing us into your home. May I know your name, Great Alchemist?” Anthony spoke Gob as he touched his head and chest before offering his hand, a sign of thanks among goblins.

  The goblins and hobs were stirred before responding with the gesture.

  “This one is Gixai.”

  “Have a great day!” Anthony said as he left with Tommie.

  “Bye, metal tree-man!” one of the goblins said in their high-pitched, almost child-like voice, waving as he left.

  The others all chimed in, waving their hands as if they might fall off and grinning as they repeated the first’s words.

  The hobs grumbled and complained as they sorted out their tribe. But Anthony saw the shine in their eyes and the flick of their ears, showing their pride of the tribe and their happiness of being treated equally.

  Anthony exited the door with Tommie beside him.

  “This Wemtic, what do you know about him?”

  “He’s an old gnome, wanted to remember his heritage. His great-grandparents established Laisa in the age of gnomes due to how close the gnomes were with the elves after the last great war.”

  Anthony remembered that time. He looked back and saw row upon row of war machines—technological behemoths with encrusted power stones. At their heart lay elven mages, using their magic to operate the machines and attack the enemy, increasing their strength.

  He returned to reality once again, Tommie not noticing anything.

  “The goblins came some time later, seeking refuge here. They had been allies with the gnomes and the elves and they accepted them. Then the humans took over Radal about ten years ago and commanded the other races in Radal. Five years ago, a human council was put in place. They sent resources and items to the emperor, but in doing so they took from the other races. Winter came early two years ago and we didn’t have enough food. Prices went up and because of the high taxes, we didn’t have enough to pay. People were dying of starvation. Wemtic was a great engineer. He was looking at making a place to grow food in the winter so that people could survive.

  “He had a young wife and daughter. They went out one day to get food. He completed his winter growing house and wanted to celebrate with them.” Tommie let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. He looked at his feet, gathering strength to say the rest of the story. “There was a riot at the market. The guards came in to re-establish order. A fight broke out and t
he guards attacked. People fled, but Wemtic’s wife and daughter were caught up in it all. They were trampled to death. Wemtic was beside himself. He cried over their broken bodies. That winter growing home? The lord found out about it; they waited until he was at the funeral, then went to his home to steal his plans. Wemtic came back to his house to find them looting the place. They said that they thought he was a leader of the riot.”

  Tommie let out a laugh that wasn’t a laugh, his hands in fists as tears hung in his eyes. “Stole his winter growing house plans. But Wemtic was a gnome through and through. He always kept his secrets hidden. He came back to a house that was ransacked—his bedroom, where he’d woken up to his wife’s sleeping face; his workshop, where he would spend his days, teaching his daughter gnome technology and where he would be dragged from by his wife; his kitchen, where he would eat meals with his family and play with his daughter. They even tore up his daughter’s room where she would sleep. When they found that they didn’t have the plans, the lord sent his guards over again to loot his house. Wemtic was beaten black and blue for ‘resisting.’ He didn’t give the plans up. It wasn’t about the plans anymore; it was about the lord, about the guards. He started drinking at my dad’s place, kept saying that if the gnomes were in charge, if it was his father or his grandfather’s generation, then they wouldn’t have stood for this. That there would be food for the people, that there wouldn’t have been a riot.

  “They came again and again. He would show up with bruises and cuts; he accepted them, started saying that he deserved them for not standing up for his wife and child, for living in a city ruled by humans.” Tommie looked at Anthony suddenly, realizing he said something wrong.

  “Go on,” Anthony said softly, showing he wasn’t affected.

  “He took the beatings, his house was broken into; still, he hasn’t given up the plans. He spends his winters going around, looking after the other gnomes. Treats the goblins nice, too. He’s a good man,” Tommie said.