*Date: 33,480 First Quarter - Iron Confederacy*
After the goblins left, Demir wanted to go out and talk to Brovick, but Marco stopped him. "They probably linger from afar and watch if we are here."
"There is no way goblins are that smart. Right?" Timmy asked.
"It is not a game anymore, and the shackles put on Realmforge are now off. They shouldn't start a slave operation for mining, but they are doing that too," Marco replied.
"Are we gonna sit here all day?" Demir asked.
"Let's see what Brovick will do."
Brovick pocketed the coins and went to the forge where molten ores had gathered. He poured the molten metals into molds, and when one of the younger dwarves the one who usually got supplies from the city through the mining shaft passed by, he gave him the coins taken from the goblins and said something.
After taking a quick glance over the shed, he went to the inn and didn't come out until night. Demir and the boys were dying of hunger and thirst, but Marco kept them inside.
"Brovick is clearly giving signals by not coming here and yelling about us sitting on our asses. Don't go out."
By night, Brovick entered drunk with water and a basket full of food.
"Did they leave?" Demir asked.
"I don't know. But if those are the kidnappers, yer job will be harder than I imagined. They seemed smart." Then he hiccupped and laughed a joyful drunk laugh. "But not that smart they paid ten silver for that junk, thinking it was dwarf-made." He was almost falling asleep.
"What did you do with the money?"
"Since prices are low, I ordered steel ingots from the city. Your shitty ores are only good for practicing. You'll forge real items with them." And he slept on the hay mattress. Demir, Marco, and the twins ate the food.
"We need to do something about that goblin party," Timmy said.
"What do you mean?"
"We are gonna get them eventually, right? We should start with them. They come to hunt us let's hunt them," Sin said.
"I mean, it is not the craziest idea," Marco agreed.
"Oh, now you all get courage suddenly when food enters your body," Demir said.
"Look, if we take them out and repeat hit-and-run tactics on their camp until they get so agitated they leave their mining outpost and attack us, then we can easily raid their base."
"It is a test, then. If we can't take down these twelve, we can't take anyone."
"Correct."
"Okay then. Wear whatever we have and take your weapons. We go after them."
---
The night was moonless, the kind of darkness that pressed on the skin. The gang crouched outside the shed, each of them strapping on whatever they had managed to cobble together.
Demir wore the dented chest piece he had taken from goblins and a headpiece. It pinched under his arm, but it was noticeably better than what he had made that Brovick sold to the goblins. A cracked wooden shield hung from his back, and in his hands was his iron sword that Moradin had given him. It had become thinner through the years, but it would have to do, Demir thought.
Timmy and Sin each had short spears made from shaved saplings with rough iron heads that Brovick had laughed at, but they were sharp enough to pierce flesh. They wore thick leather tunics, too big for them, taken from goblin slavers.
Marco looked the least armed no armor, only a ragged robe stitched from scraps. At his side hung a kitchen knife, but in his hand glowed a faint mote of blue. A spark. Magic, however small.
Demir looked at each of them. "Remember we do this right, we live. If we mess it up..." He let the thought trail.
Marco smirked weakly. "Then we die like idiots with bad gear."
Sin grinned. "Then don't miss."
They followed the goblins' trail through the woods, guided by broken branches and the faint stink of smoke.
Hours passed until Marco raised a hand, whispering: "There. Campfire."
Through the trees, they saw the goblins. Twelve of them. Some sat gnawing meat. Two stood guard. Lagra Bonebreaker's beast, the twisted wolf, slept by the fire, ribs rising and falling like bellows.
Demir crouched. "We strike fast. Kill the guards before they yell. Marco - you handle the distraction. Twins, spear the ones who charge. I'll break the leader."
Marco whispered something under his breath. The blue spark in his palm stretched into a wavering ball of light. He flung it across the trees. It cracked like lightning against a stump bright, loud.
The goblins jerked up, snarling.
Demir surged forward.
His sword crashed into the first guard's skull with a wet crunch. The flicker came again, like the world itself marking the hit. The second guard screamed before Timmy's spear drove through his chest, Sin finishing the thrust with a brutal shove.
Chaos broke loose.
The goblins scrambled for weapons. One rushed Marco, only to catch a blast of weak flame in the face enough to blind him. Marco stumbled back, knife flashing, finishing the job with a shaky stab.
Demir roared, charging Lagra. The captain swung a jagged cleaver, the force shaking Demir's shield. His arm nearly buckled, but he twisted, swung his sword in a charged arc. Demir felt the same sensation as swinging a charged hammer. "I should have counted strikes". His sword connected with Lagra's ribs. The blow sent the goblin sprawling.
The beast woke, snarling, eyes glowing with unnatural hunger. It lunged at Timmy, knocking him flat. Sin screamed, stabbing wildly at its flank. Demir hurled himself sideways, sword crashing down onto the wolf's skull. The beast convulsed, then went limp.
Breath ragged, Demir turned back. The fight was already ending. Marco's sparks of fire had sown panic. Timmy and Sin struck in tandem, spears flashing in practiced rhythm. One by one, the goblins fell.
The last, Lagra, tried to crawl away. Demir wanted to interrogate him, but when he rolled him over, the bleeding had gotten him.
Silence.
Twelve goblins. Dead.
The gang staggered among the corpses, panting, bleeding, but alive.
Timmy's hands shook as he yanked his spear free. "We... we did it."
Sin spat. "Not just did it. We crushed them."
Marco slumped against a tree, sweat plastering his hair to his face. The faint blue glow around his hands flickered and died. "Never again... am I fighting with a kitchen knife."
Demir knelt, prying the silver coins from Lagra's pouch. Beside them, the cleaver, jagged but sharp. He slung it over his shoulder.
"Loot everything," Demir said. "Armor, weapons, coins. Whatever's worth taking. This is our first step. If we can kill twelve... we can kill more."
He looked at his sword, the steel smeared with blood. "No mercy, until I get my friends back."
But even as he spoke the words, Demir couldn't shake the feeling that killing had changed something in him. The flicker he felt with each charged strike it wasn't just the world keeping score. It was something darker, hungrier. Something that whispered that violence was the answer to every problem.
And the most terrifying part was how right it felt.