Titania showed up about three minutes after Iona and I were done with our inspection. She snapped her fingers, and all the sawdust, tracked mud, and general mess that was the aftermath of a construction site vanished. Nails and other such useful items slid across the floor and whizzed through the air until they were neatly stacked and arranged. We were in the middle of giving her an enthusiastic tour - earnestly explaining why the trapdoor was a great idea, and plans for including a lever - when my ears perked up. A set of sounds, ones not normal and therefore brought to my attention.
I occasionally regretted my super senses, but not right now.
“Goblins near Nix’s farm.” I told Iona. She swore, grabbed Rockfoe, and bolted out the door.
Bless her for taking the quarter of a second to make sure she didn’t slam the door. I debated leaving it all to Iona, and decided to back her up. Never knew when an unusual skill would perfectly counter her, and excellent hearing didn’t translate to hearing levels.
[*ding!* Would you like to upgrade [Long-Range Identify] to [Earnest Eavesdropper]?]
Earnest Eavesdropper: Who said sight was the best way to check someone’s level? Instead of needing visual contact, use auditory contact! Increased range per level.
Well, that was an easy no. I was too used to using sight, and I was able to see incredible distances. There was significant overlap between when I’d be able to use the two senses, but... I just didn’t want to. Good to know I had the option easily available, and a random part of me wanted to drop a bunch of general skills, get [Identify] variants for every sense, then merge them together.
Like I had 6-7 spare general skill slots.
I headed over to Nix’s farm, where Iona had already subdued the goblins. They were all tied up - Iona had repurposed their weapons and bent them with her bare hands - and was frowning as she tapped her foot, looking at them.
I was a little surprised at her restraint. She no longer had the same blind hatred towards goblins she used to have, but I fully expectedRockfoe to be busy digging a dozen graves, not a dozen prisoners to manage. Plus, as prisoners, they were vaguely, nominally under my protection, which made them patients, which meant I had to help keep them alive.
[Identify] was interesting, to say the least.
[Laborer - 130]
[Artisan - 91]
[Laborer - 67]
...
[Laborer - 144]
Not a [Warrior], [Mage], or [Ranger] among them, and nobody over 200. I immediately spotted what probably stayed Iona’s hand. Sunken ribs and swollen bellies, the conclusion was obvious.
“They’re starving.” Iona said with a sigh. “Idiots, starving, vaguely malicious, but... frankly, if we were in their shoes, we’d be doing the same thing.”
There was clearly a deeply personal struggle going on deep inside of Iona. I slid up next to her, a pillar of support one way or another. My wife began interrogating the goblins in their native tongue. They flinched at the first words and rapidly started talking to each other, surprise evident on their faces and written with their bodies.
Iona slapped the business end of Rockfoe into the ground near the goblins, and barked out a different question, reminding them that they were alive and at her tender, reluctant mercy.
The interrogation proceeded swiftly from there. The Nixes - thank the gods and prior planning that all of them were alive - emerged from their house to see what all the fuss was about. I waved to Secondus, my once-apprentice, and he knew me well enough to shoot me a thoroughly unimpressed look.
We were, after all, standing on the delicate ash-covered carrot shoots, and the goblins had squashed more than a few. I couldn’t flip my former apprentice off in front of his entire family... and he probably knew it too, the brat. Oh sure, he was a grown man now with a wife and kids of his own, but he’d always be a brat to me. I still remembered the attempted prank with the ferrets...
Oh goddesses. I was getting old. I wanted to be Immortal, not old.
Iona eventually retreated with me, casting a baleful eye on the goblins, promising swift and mighty retribution if they should even think of twitching. It was either that, or she was complaining about the amount of spice they’d put in the curry last night... I’d gotten that exact look before when Iona emerged from the bathroom the day after.
“What’s the story?” I asked. “What’s our plan, what are we doing?”
She sighed again, suddenly looking more like her age.
We made it to the goblin... I hesitated to call it a village. Encampment was the best word for it. Ragged tents revealed furs, and we all side-eyed a frying pan with the Messorem family crest - generously stretching the definition of crest - knowing the family had been wiped out in a goblin raid half a decade ago.
A cookpot was filled with meat, nearly the entire tribe crowding around it. They were shoving and bickering, and the [Cook] was liberally applying lumps with his ladle. Wasn’t stopping the goblins from shoving their bare hands into the boiling water to grab a scrap, fleeing to the edges of the crowd to gnaw on their prize.
I swallowed around a lump in my throat, cursing my senses. I knew exactly what was in the pot, and I doubted there was a second goblin tribe around here. The dreadful algebra of necessity.
Our arrival caused a huge amount of consternation, and one of the goblins - probably crazed and not thinking straight due to hunger, not that it excused his actions, just explained them - tried to knife me. I casually twisted out of the way, sticking a foot out and making him trip.
“Hold.” I told Auri, my little friend ready to defend me with overwhelming firepower. The goblin picked himself up off the ground, and turned around with a feral snarl. The goblins we’d come with were yelling at him, trying to talk him down, but he wasn’t listening. He lunged wildly at me, and I grabbed his wrist, plucked the knife out of it, debated doing his taxes, then gently set him down on the dirt.
He whirled around and came for me a third time, rotting teeth like sharpened daggers going for my ankles. Iona rolled her eyes, picked him up by the neck and waist, and simply twisted him in two different directions, entirely ripping him apart.
[*ding!* Your Party has slain a [Goblin Berserker (Inferno, 187)]/[Deadly Raider (Poison, 177)]]
“Nobody attacks my wife three times and gets away with it.” Iona said fiercely, then raised her voice, repeating herself in goblin.
Quite a lot of yelling, screaming, and posturing ensued, half of the goblins facing off against us argumentatively, and the other half hurriedly sticking the dead goblin into the stew - after ripping his teeth out.
Iona briefly flashed me a hand-sign, and I teleported into my [Tower]. Keeping in mind the starvation protocols, I grabbed some hard biscuits, and brought them out. I faded a little into the background as food and negotiations went on. It was remarkable to watch their body language. From bared teeth and crossed arms, to loosened shoulders and wide smiles, Iona’s [Social Lubricant] was possibly one of the most powerful skills I’d ever seen.
I worked on picking up the language while Auri strutted around on my head. She was enjoying the new audience and showing off, and quite a few of the goblins had locked eyes on her.
It wasn’t all smooth sailing - there were quite a few arguments over different things, but I was more than willing to utterly sabotage the goblins and weaken their will. Iona was carefully spacing out what she was arguing over - I was pretty sure it was basic stuff like ‘don’t steal from your new neighbors’ and ‘murdering humans is wrong’ - and every time the goblins were looking unhappy, I grabbed another dish from my [Tower], holding it enticingly. When their resolve buckled and they agreed to Iona’s terms, food was handed out.
On one hand, it felt dirty and unethical. I was using their starvation and hunger against them, withholding food until they agreed. On the other? ‘You get food if you agree not to try and murder us in our sleep’ was a line I was quite happy walking.
Level up notifications were loud, and I didn’t want my beauty sleep interrupted by leveling [The Elaine] because the goblins went on a stabbing ‘why won’t they die’ spree.
In the end, beer all around! I needed to learn Goblin, or hopefully, they’d learn High Elvish.
Orthus Town expanded.
One of the goblins followed us out, the youngest kid we’d seen. I carefully avoided thinking about why we didn’t see any younger goblins. Iona asked her a question, and she shyly answered, poking Iona in the leg.
My wife looked thunderstruck, and was left speechless for a solid minute. The whole time, the little goblin was looking more and more nervous, until it was clear she was debating bolting.
Indecision warred over Iona’s face, a thousand emotions flickering. The little goblin had sent Iona into some sort of crisis with her words, and I sidled up next to her, letting her know I was here for her, I was always here, and I’d support her anyway I could.
The goddesses knew I’d gone deep into my own thoughts often enough, Iona supporting me, that I could do the same back when the roles were reversed.
“Brrrpt?”
Iona swallowed hard and nodded, half-turning to me.
“Her name’s Raccoon. What do you think about having an extra pair of hands around the house?”
I could tell Iona wanted me to answer a particular way. Was practically begging me with her eyes.
“Sure!”