There was little variance to an adventurer’s life.

  Strange, wasn’t it? From all the tall tales told by the bards I’d assume there’d be, well, adventure. It was in the fucking name after all. It was why I even bothered trying this shit, little idiot me. Too good for the farmers life, had to strike out in the world and make a name for myself. I’d never thought I was good enough to inspire new tales, but I assumed it’d at least be exciting.

  Instead I was in some random bar, using what little coin I made on my last journey to get properly plastered.

  I took a swig of the swill the proprietor dared to call alcohol, and wondered not for the first time if I made a mistake. Nah. I might complain like a bitch but dealing with crop rotations and shit would’ve crushed my spirit, at least this life let me see the world. Even if it was never anywhere good folk would gather, and certainly nowhere with good fucking ale.

  Besides, my father wouldn’t take me back if I’d offered him a dragon’s horde, let alone the pennies I’d managed slaying goblins like an idiot. Prideful bastard. Honestly, not having to deal with him was almost enough to excuse this shit lifestyle all on its own.

  I took another swig from my mug and realized that it was just about empty, I grumbled and put the thing down. I didn’t have enough for another, not if I wanted to be prepared for my next ‘adventure’.

  Just a lot of walking and killing goblins, pleeeeenty of goblins.

  That was my life, spend a few weeks on the road from city to city, hunting the green fucks and taking their ears, only to spend the rest of the month drinking away my boredom in some hole in wall tavern on the poorer side of the city. At least I wasn't the only one, at least half of the patrons here were adventurers from what I could tell.

  Maybe I should’ve gotten into hunting, or delving.

  Nah, staying in one place just wasn’t my style.

  My only complaint was that there wasn’t any excitement, even novelty becoming mundane. I’d completed an entire circuit of the empire, and had started to debate crossing borders. Well, I say started, but I was already learning quite a bit of the Yesnian language in preparation. Cute little kingdom on the empire’s eastern border, only existed because of their mysterious Knights.

  Hopefully it would bring with it some entertainment.

  Fighting goblins was just a pain in the ass at that point, they just didn’t know how to fight. They were capable of swinging whatever the fuck their grimy claws could find but anything resembling technique? Laughable.

  Orcs were a different story, but if there was orcs then there was thousands of goblins, so I’d never had the gumption to wade through a sea of green just to be slaughtered by something so far beyond me. Went on plenty of extermination orders by the magistrate though, so I’d seen a few.

  Fucking terrifying is what they are, like a twisted version of human biology bloated with muscle. And green, for some reason they're green like the goblins they command. Probably something to that. I didn't think I’d ever survive a fight with one of the monstrous bastards, so I didn't particularly try for the opportunity. Coin was good enough for me, thank you very much.

  Maybe someday I’d collect the balls to fight a proper monster, but for now I liked the adventurer's life, despite how far I’d fallen. I let out a sigh, ignoring the clamour of boisterous fools and their lies of grand conquests. At least I wasn’t like those idiots, or the people interested in their stories. Still, I kept an ear out for any interesting gossip, you could find the funnest little tidbits in places like this.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  It had guided my adventures a few times, and on occasion I actually stumbled on something fun. Every negative had a positive, and vice versa. So I filtered the words but…nothing grabbed my attention, unfortunately.

  My senses had gotten better from when I started, law of the universe and all that with how much I killed, but I didn't go after anything truly dangerous so I wouldn’t be a proper hunter. Still helped me organize everything I heard.

  I swished the last bit of my ale, I was thinking of going to Fier next, far enough south where I might be free of snow come winter. I liked snow, it brought a beautiful death to the world, but it god old pretty quickly. Besides, the food in Fier was great.

  I took my last swig of my last ale for a while, letting out a loud belch which got a few congratulatory claps, and even one cheer. No one came to talk though, which was a blessing to my soul.

  I let out a sigh, ignoring the clamour of fools surrounding me, each going on about whatever shit their mouths could spit out, generally useless. I got up out of my chair, paid the bartender, and headed off to walk the city streets. Rokla wasn’t much to behold, a city trapped by grand woods of mysterious origin, but that was about all it had going for it. Otherwise it was as basic as can be, with basic ass people and basic ass food alongside basic ass ale.

  Did I mention that the Ale wasn’t all that good? I fucking hated how I had to pass by here to get to the southern empire, but I wasn’t willing to go on the more dangerous routes, and neither were the caravans I traveled with. Speaking of, I needed to find a caravan. Off to the market square! Huzzah!

  I chuckled at myself, drink must’ve been getting to me, nice.

  The market square was full of the usual clamour, if you’d only seen this part of the city you’d be forgiven for thinking it was actually interesting. Merchants arrayed themselves in resplendent colours next to long caravan trains that offered their wares to whomever came to take a gander, trinkets collected from all over the world exchanged for just a few silver pennies. I had to hold myself from buying anything stupid, heading to a young looking merchant who’s wares looked like they'd come from Anik. A northern city.

  “Hello sir! The boy said. “What can I interest you in today? I have plenty of delicacies from all corners of the empire ready for your perusal, perhaps you’d like some jewellery from the southern steppes—”

  “I travel kid, I can tell these aren’t from the south, nice try though.” I chuckled.

  That got a pause from the merchant, a frozen smile before they returned to the mask. “Well! I would never seek to deceive, this piece was originally from Tronak, but did find its way to Yogum, perhaps the man I sourced it from did some tinkering?”

  “Perhaps indeed,” I smiled. “Or you’re trying to scam people, which is just a delight for me if we’re being honest now isn’t it?”

  This time his expression went completely flat. “What do you want, vagabond?”

  “Now now, no need for rudeness. I’m simply looking for a place on a southbound caravan train. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”

  The merchant glared at me, but let out a sigh. “That’ll be a silver coin, and you’ll have to provide for yourself.”

  “Two pennies,” I said, taking out a silver coin and snapping it in two. I returned one of the halves to my pouch.

  “Fine,” the merchant grumbled. “I’ll speak with my father.”

  “See that you do,” I smiled, distinctly not handing over the coin. The boy grumbled some more and got up from his place. Heading over to who I assumed was his father, good lad—

  “Attention!” a child's voice cut through the noise of the market square with unnatural potency. “Message from the magistars! Message from the magistars! A goblin horde has been spotted north of the city, calling all abled bodies to assist in the army’s quest for extermination! Five gold for each of your participation, and another five for any with distinguished performance!”

  My eyes cut through the crowd to find the child in question, young lad, wore the proper garments of a messenger boy, and carrying an amplification amulet next to his mouth. There was a pervasive silence until—

  Cheers, so much jubilation from degenerates like me at the news of a horde.

  I let out a sigh, guess I wouldn’t be escaping the dreaded winter.