John lowered himself into the wooden chair, the legs creaking under his weight. His goblin form was still sweaty and battered from the fight, but the teleportation had healed his wounds, leaving only the memory of pain.
Across from him, Sir Draven sat with the easy grace of a man who had spent his life in armor, his longsword resting across his knees, his dark eyes scanning the village with quiet interest.
The goblins had retreated to a respectful distance, their yellow eyes peeking out from behind huts and trees. The femboy who had kissed John was hovering near the edge of the clearing, wringing his hands, clearly torn between curiosity and fear. John waved him off, and he ducked back behind a barrel.
"So," John said, leaning back and crossing his arms.
Draven inclined his head, his dark straight hair falling across his forehead. "I am Sir Draven, Imperial Knight of Thornheim and Head Knight of Greystone, sworn to Duke Ashford Snooven Hound. I have served in this capacity for twelve years, and in that time, I have learned that violence is often the result of misunderstanding. I would prefer to avoid further bloodshed, if possible."
John raised an eyebrow. "That's a lot of titles. Must be a pain fitting them all on a business card."
Draven's lips twitched. "I do not have business cards."
"Shame. Anyway, I'm Gob." John paused. His mind raced. Gob? That was too simple. Too on the nose. He needed something more formal, something that sounded like a real name. "Gob... lynn. Gob lynn. Yeah. Gob lynn. Pleasure to meet you."
Draven extended his hand across the table. John shook it. The knight's grip was firm, controlled, exactly what you would expect from someone who could crush skulls with his bare hands.
"Gob lynn," Draven repeated, as if testing the name. "Unusual. But then, you are an unusual goblin."
John shrugged. "I get that a lot."
Draven withdrew his hand and folded his arms on the table, his expression growing serious. "I will be direct with you, Gob lynn. My orders are to clear this forest of all goblin settlements. The kingdom's primary mines have been depleted, and we need access to the timber and mineral resources in this region. To date, we have exterminated fourteen other goblin villages. Yours is the last."
John's jaw tightened. "Fourteen?"
"Fourteen," Draven confirmed. "Most were lesser or feral tribes. They attacked on sight. They could not be reasoned with. Your people, however, did not attack. They ran. They hid. And you, their leader, chose to face us alone." He paused, his dark eyes searching John's face. "That tells me you are different. That you might be open to... negotiation."
John forced himself to stay calm. Fourteen villages. Goblins he had never met, would never meet, all dead because some humans wanted more wood and rocks. He filed the anger away for later.
"Alright," John said. "I'm listening. What kind of negotiation?"
Draven leaned forward, his voice low. "This forest is, technically, Thornheim territory. The border has never been firmly established, and the previous goblin tribes did not recognize the kingdom's claim. But you are intelligent. You can speak. You can understand the concept of property and sovereignty."
John nodded slowly. "Go on."
"So I propose this: you accompany me to Greystone. To the duke. He is the one with the authority to negotiate. He will offer you terms. Perhaps your village could become a member of Thornheim, with all the rights and protections that entails. Or, if you prefer, you could be recognized as an independent, semi-sovereign state, with a formal treaty defining your borders and obligations."
John blinked. "You're offering me... statehood?"
"I am offering you the opportunity to negotiate for it," Draven corrected. "The duke is a pragmatic man. He does not enjoy war. He would much rather have a friendly neighbor on his eastern border than a wasteland of corpses."
John thought about it. The offer was tempting. Membership in Thornheim would mean protection, trade, resources. But it would also mean taxes, obligations, and answering to a human king. Independent statehood sounded better, but it would come with its own challenges. Borders. Diplomacy. The constant threat of invasion from a kingdom that might change its mind.
"There's just one problem," John said.
Draven tilted his head. "What problem?"
John pointed east, away from the village, away from Greystone, deeper into the forest. "I have plans. Big plans. I'm expanding that way. East. Away from your kingdom. I'm not interested in moving west, towards Greystone. I'm interested in moving east, into the wilderness. There are beast folk villages out there. Other goblin tribes. I'm not above conquering them, bringing them under my banner."
Draven's eyebrows rose. "You intend to build an empire?"
"I intend to build something," John said. "I don't know if it's an empire. But it's mine. And I'm not going to let anyone, human or otherwise, tell me where my borders end."
The knight was silent for a long moment, his fingers drumming on the table. Then he nodded slowly.
"I see. You have ambition. That is not a bad thing. But it complicates matters."
"How so?"
Draven leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes thoughtful. "The duke's primary concern is the security of Greystone's borders. If you expand east, away from his territory, you pose no immediate threat. In fact, you could serve as a buffer against other hostile forces in the region. The beast folk tribes to the east have been raiding our settlements for years. If you were to... pacify them, the duke would be grateful."
John grinned. "So you're saying I should conquer them for you?"
"I am saying that mutual benefit is the foundation of any lasting alliance," Draven replied. "You want land. The duke wants security. Those goals are not incompatible."
John chewed on that. The knight was clever. He was offering a deal that would benefit both sides, framing it as cooperation rather than submission. John respected that.
"Alright," John said. "I'm interested. But I'm not going anywhere. Not yet. My village just got attacked. My people are scared. I'm not leaving them alone to go gallivanting off to some human castle."
Draven nodded. "I understand. But I do not have the authority to negotiate territory or sovereignty. That is the duke's prerogative. I am merely a soldier, following orders."
"So what are you suggesting?"
Draven stood, pushing back his chair. "I am suggesting that you come to Greystone. Alone, or with a small escort. The duke will receive you. You will negotiate. And while you are gone, I will personally ensure that no harm comes to your village. You have my word as a knight."
John looked at him, searching his face for any sign of deception. Draven's expression was open, earnest, the face of a man who meant what he said.
"Your word," John repeated.
"My word," Draven said. "No harm will come to your people. I will leave a contingent of my own men here to protect them, if you wish. Or I will guard them myself. Whatever it takes to earn your trust."
John sighed, rubbing his temples. This was moving fast. Too fast. But the offer was genuine, and the alternative was more bloodshed, more dead goblins, more dead humans. He didn't want that. He had never wanted that.
"Fine," John said. "I'll go with you. But if this is a trap, if you're just trying to get me alone so your men can slaughter my village the moment I leave, I swear to every god in every pantheon that I will burn Greystone to the ground. I will salt the earth. I will make sure that no one even remembers the name of your precious duke."
Draven met his gaze without flinching. "I would expect nothing less from a leader."
He extended his hand again. John shook it.
"Then it's settled," Draven said. "We leave. I will make preparations. In the meantime, your village will be safe."
He turned and walked toward the edge of the clearing, his longsword swinging at his hip. John watched him go, his mind churning.
"Goblynn," John muttered to himself. "Goblynn. That's not a real name. That's just Goblin with extra letters."
The femboy crept up beside him, his big eyes wide. "Leader? Is everything okay?"
John ruffled his curly black hair. "Yeah, kid. Everything's fine. Just need to have a chat with some humans about our future."
The femboy nodded, not understanding, but trusting anyway. John looked out at the forest, at the setting sun, at the path that led east.
He had a lot of work to do.