“There it is. Brightroot village.”

  The first village on our path to Pine Peak lay ahead of us, at the end of a two kilometer long slope. We could also see the forest, farther to its left, stretching ahead without an end in sight.

  The second day of travel went on without a hitch, as well.

  However, just as we began our descent, Thomas raised his hand, and stopped his horse. I (Cupcake) slowly walked beside him.

  “Something’s not right.”

  He was squinting his eyes, looking at the small settlement in the distance. I did the same.

  At first glance, nothing seemed out of place – I could see a few chimneys releasing steady black smoke into the sky, and a few people gathered closer to the village’s center…

  ‘Wait.’

  Now that I looked closer, there were no people casually walking the streets, and no children playing outside in the summer breeze. Instead, I only saw the tiny backs of people gathered in what was likely the village square.

  Considering the buildings blocking most of the view, the number of people there could’ve been much higher – perhaps matching this small village's whole population.

  “Something is going on over there.”

  The deputy noticed it as well, making his decision.

  “We’ll have to see what it is.”

  We continued down the road. As we got closer, I could hear a few of the louder cries in the crowd. I could not make out the exact words from here, but I did distinguish between two of the main voices – one was filled with anger and insult, while another was filled with fear and desperate urgency.

  click, click

  As we continued, the sound of horseshoes hitting the cobblestone - the last of paved roads we'd be seeing for a long while - seemed to have reached the crowd.

  “..rses?”

  “Are those riders?!”

  “We are saved! They sent help!”

  “..ool…ow…they kno…end help…is fast?”

  Some of the voices cried out in relief, even joy. Others, less excited, spoke hushed words of caution.

  By the time we reached the boundary of the village, the crowd had already moved to meet us – and all voices died down, every man, woman and even child holding their breath in anticipation.

  “Welcome to our humble village-”

  “Who are you?”

  The first voice, laced with honey, belonged to an old man wearing plain robes. Despite his humble apparel, the quality of the fabric was distinctively higher than that of most people gathered, indicating his high status within this village.

  The second speaker was a large, tall man – not quite as big as the sheriff, he could still give Harold a run for his money. He wore a large set of leather armor, not unlike my own, and held a large two-headed battleaxe in his hands.

  The axe was stained with somewhat fresh blood. However, it wasn't human blood – its color was a slightly deeper shade of brown, and the smell was subtly different, too.

  “Thomas Cleantoe, deputy to the sheriff of Pine Harbor. And you are?”

  As Thomas revealed his identity, removing his riding cloak to show the crest on his composite armor, many gasps and whispers spread through the crowd - as well as sighs of relief.

  “I’m Jim, sir. The people here call me ‘Big Jimmy’. I’m head of the village militia.”

  The large man's voice instantly changed, growing more respectful and disciplined.

  The deputy carefully inspected the man.

  “Are you a Path-bearer?”

  “Level 2 Warrior, sir.”

  The deputy nodded, before shifting his gaze to the old man.

  “My name is Tristan Trodenwell, and I am the chief of this small village.”

  The chief's voice became even more humble, almost grovelling.

  “Please, good sir. You must help this village.”

  “What happened in this village?”

  Looking around through the crowd, I could see a few more people with bloodied swords, axes and spears in their hands, a total of two dozen. Those were nearly all of the healthy, young to middle aged men in the crowd. Most of them wore no armor, and the rest wore crude, pathed leather pieces. Many had small cuts or bandages, smeared with fresh bloodstains.

  “It was a disaster! Our humble-”

  “Sir! If you'll excuse me, perhaps you'll allow those who actually participated in the village's defense to make this report.”

  ‘Big’ Jimmy interrupted Tristan. His tone towards the deputy was respectful, but when alluding to the village chief, one could not help but notice the thinly-veiled disdain in his voice.

  “You!.. How dare you, in front of an esteemed visitor?!..”

  The village chief threw a deeply offended gaze at Jim, before looking to the deputy for support.

  “I will hear you both. Jim, describe the battle, first.”

  “Sir! A horde of goblins fell upon the village, no more than an hour ago.”

  The militia leader took a big breath.

  “It.. was bad. There were dozens of them… Over forty, maybe fifty. All of them had real weapons, no clubs or sharp sticks. And they were led by a greater goblin!”

  Thomas raised his eyebrow.

  “This sounds.. grave. How are you still alive?”

  The big man lowered his eyes.

  “We.. have lost good men today. One of them, Johnathan, sacrificed himself to give me an opening, while I fought that big bastard. Thanks to him, I managed to take its arm. After that, it retreated, and so did the other goblins.”

  “Hmm…”

  The deputy gave him a contemplating look.

  “Good sir! They didn't just retreat!”

  The village chief finally decided to interrupt. Seeing no adverse reaction from the deputy, who turned his eyes to the old man, he continued.

  “While the main force fought our militia, a dozen or so goblins raided the village! They.. they kidnapped women and children! Please, good sir-”

  “...and one of the children was your second son.”

  ‘Big’ Jimmy interrupted the chief's speech.

  “Yes! One of them was my son! So what?! What does it change about what must be done?!”

  The chief's demeanour changed drastically. In an instant, gone was the humble old man, and in his place was one filled with anger and desperation.

  “Must be done?! So a dozen good men must throw their life away, all for a slim chance to get your son back?!”

  “Our family is the reason we have this village! Who was it that secured the few trade agreements we have?! Who was it that went to that consul in Silverveil to beg for more patrols?! We did our duty! Now do yours!”

  “You..”

  The big man was taken aback, perhaps by the chief's perceived audacity.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

  “Our duty?.. OUR DUTY?!”

  The man's face turned red, the veins on his head bulging with anger. I saw Thomas subtly shifting his legs, getting ready to leap off the horse at a moment’s notice.

  “We fought for the village! We bled for the village! Good men died for it! And most of it is still safe, while those men will be buried in the ground by day’s end!.. And you!.. You dare ask those who survived to march to their death? And call that duty?!”

  Not a single whisper was heard when the man finished speaking. Still, the old chief did not back down, looking straight into the large man's eyes, his tone turning colder, with a hateful undercurrent.

  “It’s easy for you to say those things. After all, your wife and children are part of the ‘mostly safe’ villagers.”

  The militia leader looked at Tristan with visible disgust.

  “Your son was no toddler or invalid. He could hold a sword. Perhaps if he joined us, or at least did a proper job defending himself, he would also be in the ‘mostly safe’ group.”

  I could see the chief’s calm demeanor drain with each word, his expression slowly starting to match Jimmy's. His left hand began reaching somewhere under the robe.

  “You!-”

  “Enough!”

  For a small man, Thomas's voice was surprisingly loud when he got angry. This was the first time I've seen him angry, too.

  “Enemies of mankind are still at your door, and you're squabbling amongst yourselves already? Quite down! And answer my questions.”

  The deputy's words diffused the immediate explosiveness of the situation, replacing it with heavy tension. Both men, as if reminded of his presence, silently turned their heads towards the two outsiders once more.

  “First. Tristan, you said they kidnapped women and children, as well as your son. Tell me, were any of the children male? And was your son still alive?”

  “Yes! On both accounts. They dragged out everyone alive. They were also the only goblins who carried clubs – some of the villagers saw them knocking out the two children, and carrying them out carefully.”

  “Hmm…”

  The deputy's gaze turned to Jim.

  “The big goblin – did it say anything, before or during the fight?”

  “I-it did sir.”

  The big man’s face lit up, with him recalling an important detail.

  “During the fight, when it had the upper hand, it said ‘we should be honoured to be of use to the great Scree-somthing’. I didn't quite make the last screech out, but perhaps it was the goblin's name.”

  “I see…”

  The deputy withdrew into deep thought. Every villager held their breath. Only the wind, the buzzing of a few insects, and the rustling of nearby bushes, under the crimson rays of the setting sun, filled the air.

  “Can you tell me how many men you had at the start of this battle? And how many died, on both sides.”

  “...We had 15 men. Three dead, one gravely injured, and two are recovering, and most of us suffered lighter injuries. As for the goblins, we managed to get rid of half of the filth on that battlefield, so around 20. Including the raiders, they should be 30 in number.”

  “And can you tell me which direction they fled in?”

  “This.. was another strange part, actually. They fled in the direction of Westville, using the road.”

  Westville was the name of the second village, roughly 70 kilometers to the north-north-west.

  The deputy nodded, returning to his thoughts. A few faint murmurs spread through the crowd, but none dared hasten or interrupt him. After a dozen seconds, he finally spoke.

  “Under my authority as deputy sheriff of Pine Harbor, and in a state of emergency, I hereby conscript the militia of Brightroot village, as well as the village itself, to assist me in fulfilling my duty to Valoria and its people.”

  The village chief's face brightened, while the militia leader lowered his gaze and tightened his fists.

  “How many horses do you have in this village?”

  “Two, honorable deputy.”

  “That’s good. Prepare them both by tomorrow. An hour before dawn, you shall send a messenger to Pine Harbor to relay the news, as well as my letter. As for the second horse…”

  He turned his gaze.

  “Jim, you shall accompany us on this mission.”

  “T-tomorrow?”

  The chief's expression sank again, this time in disbelief.

  “Trying to pursue a force this large at night is meaningless – if they simply step off the road and enter the forest, fighting them head-on will be suicide. Still, goblins have to rest, too. They usually sleep from dawn to early afternoon.”

  The deputy paused.

  “They likely set up camp in the woods, near the midpoint between the two villages. That camp will have cages or a pit to hold the prisoners, and they will likely use it to rest before returning to their main layer.”

  “H-how can you be so certain?”

  “Unfortunately, all signs point to a goblin shaman being behind this.”

  A shudder passed through the crowd. Clearly, this terrifying goblin variant was well known among the villagers, perhaps starring as the main antagonist of scary bedtime stories.

  “This means.. only I have to come with you?”

  “Yes. There is only one horse, anyway, so it's best that the rest of the militia remains here to protect the village.”

  Just as much as the chief's expression sank, so did the militia leader's brightened. It would seem he really did care for his remaining men.

  “You.. you will rescue then, right? The prisoners?”

  “We will try.”

  The deputy's noncommittal answer did not fully reassure the chief, but he also understood there was no other choice but to place his hopes on that answer.

  “Fine. Leave your horses at the stables - they will be well cared for. Tilda! Show them the way, then give them the best rooms in the guest house. Everyone else – those who can, take up a shovel and deepen the trenches. Those who were assigned to the dining hall – prepare a proper dinner for our guests!”

  “Men! Those with anything worse than light wounds must rest – we don't know whether the goblins, or something else will come. The rest should, indeed, help with the trenches.”

  Each of the two men gave their orders, while giving the other an unpleasant look. At the very least, they decided to put their differences aside for now.

  A middle aged woman, Tilda, led the two of us to a humble stable, housing two horses, as we dismounted and let the stable boy - who arrived just before us - take care of them.

  From there, she led us to a small building at the eastern edge of the village. The building had a common living room, kitchen and bathroom, as well as a long room with six beds, and four small rooms with one bed. We got two of the small rooms.

  “The dining hall is at the village square, opposite of the well. You can’t miss it. Dinner will be ready in an hour, so please come then!”

  After a quick bow, the woman left the two of us alone in the guest house.

  “So, can you tell me what's going on?”

  I didn't interrupt until now, understanding my position as a ride hitcher, and I wasn’t in a mood to talk, either, but I still wanted to understand the situation, especially now that I'd suddenly have to participate in this unexpected mission.

  “I’m sorry you got entangled in this.”

  The deputy sighted, before beginning his explanation.

  “As I said, all the signs point to a goblin shaman.”

  “I don't doubt you, but how did you come to this conclusion?”

  “First, what the greater goblin said. It's a very niche fact, but goblins almost never refer to themselves in third person, despite how plays and songs often portray them.”

  I didn't watch any plays or hear any songs (besides one), but I could imagine how stupid the creatures that were presented there must have sounded.

  “Second, the fact that they kidnapped the son and the male children – or rather, took them alive.”

  “Why is it that strange? Back when I met Bern's party, those two women were kidnapped alive, weren't they?”

  “Sebastian…”

  Giving me a strange look, Thomas glanced to the side, before speaking.

  “You know what's the biggest difference between goblins and hobgoblins?”

  “??”

  “Both of them share the same distant ancestry, yet one is a monstrous species, and the others are classified as monsters. Do you know the biggest reason for the difference?”

  “Because monsters can't have Paths, right? Besides a few unique cases.”

  That was one thing I learned while randomly talking to another adventurer at the guild once.

  “Actually, goblins are considered a special case. It's been confirmed that greater goblins all possess a Path similar to Warrior, and a Shaman is a goblin Path, as well. There are a few extremely rare goblin Paths you haven't heard about, too.”

  “???”

  This was quite unexpected. Still, I trusted the deputy more than the common knowledge of some random low-level adventurer.

  “The main difference is that there are no female goblins.”

  “...what?”

  “Goblins are what we call a ‘cursed species’. They do not procreate with other goblins. Instead, they kidnap females from a few compatible species, and…”

  His voice trailed off, but I was glad he didn't finish that sentence, as my stomach had already started to turn.

  “Anyway, males kidnapped by them are usually used for food, so they're killed on the spot. The only difference is.. when a Goblin Shaman intends to use them.”

  “...goblin shamans often use sacrifice magic.”

  “Indead, you know your basics. A less known fact is that humanoids are among the best living creatures for such magic – far above goblins, or wild animals.”

  “...”

  My chest tightened when I heard the deputy's last sentence, although it had nothing to do with goblins. Still, I managed to keep my expression neutral, or so I thought.

  “This is why, despite the importance of this report that I carry, we have to prevent that shaman from getting so many sacrifices.”

  “But how? Forget their numbers, do you really think we can fight a shaman?”

  “No. Like I said, we have no chance in a frontal assault. It's likely the goblins launched a similar raid on Westville, at the same time, and the reason they took the road was to reconvene with the other party midway between the two villages.”

  “Then?..”

  “The silver lining is that the shaman is likely in their true lair, not in this forward camp. It would also make sense for it to send two or three greater goblins to command this raid - one in each group, and perhaps one in the camp.”

  “That doesn't mean we can fight them, though.”

  “No – what it means is that we can't win a fight head on.”

  I was beginning to have a bad feeling that I was being forced into a suicide mission.

  “Don’t worry. I'll handle the hardest part. You and ‘Big’ Jimmy will provide a distraction. Of course, once we reach the city, I will include this in my report, and as a neutral party not bound by the conscription order, you will get additional compensation.”

  I sighed, but nodded my head. There wasn't any sense in arguing. I just had to think of this as additional training and do my best to pull through.

  “Now, let’s wash up and get ready to head out. I'm starving.”

  THE FIRST CRADLE – A LITRPG ADVENTURE

  The Sun is dying, and there's no saving this world.

  THE FIRST CRADLE – A LITRPG ADVENTURE – NEW CHAPTERS EVERY FRIDAY!