Chapter 17 – The First Flame of Discipline
---
The stench of blood clung to the cave walls. Goblin corpses were piled in one corner, their green ichor mingling with crimson stains from slain adventurers. The survivors sat slumped, patching wounds with filthy rags and crushed herbs.
Altair sat upon a flat stone, his body smeared with gore, his gaze sharp as a blade. He counted the living—barely over thirty left, and nearly half of them wounded.
"We won," he said, voice low and grim. "But if we keep fighting like this, we'll all be wiped out."
The goblins bowed their heads. Lila bit her lip. Mira kept her eyes down. And in the shadows, Seraphina glared, still bound by roots, her face pale.
---
Altair rose to his feet. His voice carried like thunder. "From this day forward, we are not a wild pack. We are an army."
The goblins blinked in confusion. An army? The word was alien to them.
Altair's gaze turned to the four hybrid infants cradled in the arms of Lila and Mira—Arden, Lyra, Silas, Neriah. Fragile bodies, yes, but their eyes gleamed with something no goblin had ever possessed: purpose.
"You," he said to them, "will become pillars. And the rest of you—" he swept his hand over the goblins, "—will be the wall that shields them."
---
That day, training began.
Altair forced the goblin males to line up. He paced before them, eyes narrow.
"Stand straight!" he barked.
They shuffled clumsily, crooked lines forming. Altair struck those who strayed with a wooden club. "No mercy. If you can't hold formation, you'll die on the battlefield."
Lila and Mira handed round stones to the goblin children. "Lift them," Altair commanded.
They strained, grunting, trembling as they raised the weights.
Arden was given his first task: strike stone against stone to signal commands. "This is order," Altair said. "One strike—advance. Two—retreat. Three—hide."
Tak! Tak! Tak! Arden tapped, and the goblins moved accordingly, clumsy but learning.
Silas practiced tightening snares, his small hands pulling roots taut. Neriah was ordered to dash through shadows, kicking pebbles to draw attention. Lyra pulled on ropes, her muscles tested even in infancy.
They were not fighters yet. But they were no longer mere babes. They were being forged.
---
Seraphina's eyes widened, her breath caught in her throat. They were born only two weeks ago… they should be feeding at my breast, crying for warmth…
Yet here they were, following commands, eyes burning like soldiers.
Tears welled as guilt gnawed at her. I birthed them. I gave life to this… abomination.
Altair glanced at her, a thin smile on his bloodstained lips. "Do you see, Seraphina? Your children are not mere infants. They are the future."
She shuddered, turning her face away.
---
That night, the goblins gathered around a crude fire. Altair stood before them, his silhouette tall and commanding.
"From this day," he declared, "we are governed by rules."
He raised his claw, his voice cold:
1. "Those who flee battle will be executed."
2. "Those who defy command will be cast out."
3. "Those who betray the pack will die."
The air grew tense. The goblins trembled—not from confusion this time, but from fear and respect.
Altair's voice softened into a growl. "The strong will eat first. Those who birth strong children will be protected. And those who show loyalty… will be honored."
Ragged cheers broke the silence.
---
Later, when the pack slept, Altair sat alone by the fire. His eyes glowed as he watched the hybrids slumber.
"Arden… Lyra… Silas… Neriah," he whispered. "Today you began your training. Tomorrow, you'll grow stronger. And one day, you will become the spears that pierce this world."
His claws curled, his grin sharp. "I am not merely leading a pack. I am building a kingdom."
In the distance, a chilling howl echoed—the cry of the White Wolf of the North. The Forbidden Forest stirred, a reminder of its ever-present menace.
But within that cave, a small flame burned steadily—the first flame of goblin discipline. And it would one day blaze into a wildfire that consumed the world.
---
#wanD48