On aching knees, The Goblin limped through the crowded streets of Helion with a brace of long knives tucked into his belt and a hot pie cradled between his hands. The thick crust of laminated pastry surrendered quickly to his claws and rich gravy spilt out from the cracks as he rewarded himself with the irregular chunks of succulent meat.
His pie, like many others just like it was filled with the cheaper cuts that could be procured within Helion—typically those too unpalatable to be sold on the open market without the disguise of a dark sauce and a flaky crust. It was normal for the modestly priced pies favoured by goblins and other discerning nonhumans to include the gamey meat of dogs, cats, or even rats, but on this occasion he was treated to a rich-tasting filling that he immediately identified as human in origin.
There were of course laws against putting people in pies, but like everything in the city economics ultimately won out. With the rising price of meat and his kind’s unbridled desire to skirt the dragon’s rather draconian rules, disposing of an unwanted body by putting it into pies was an increasingly popular approach for Helion’s criminal underbelly.
The Goblin knew that he should report it. The butchers selling tainted meat were almost certainly tied to one of the various predators cropping up throughout the city. Be they under the thrall of something as exotic as a vampire, or more mundane like the greedy experience merchants, the pie-makers were vile criminals through and through.
Of course, he wouldn’t report it.
Goblins routinely broke more than a few laws themselves—particularly the ones regarding hunting sapients—and while they’d cracked blackpowder, cannons and worse, folding chilled sheets of dough into perfect pastry still escaped his species’s expertise. Seniority or not, his kind would eat him alive if they found out that he came between them and their most reliable source for meaty chunks of human wrapped in a light buttery crust.
Licking his fingers clean of his hurried meal, The Goblin ducked into a narrow alleyway beside a general store and emerged a moment later standing atop the building’s roof. He then travelled along the sloping highway of slate tiles and bird nests until he reached his destination—an abandoned church long since cleared out for its apparent Epherian sympathies.
The Goblin proceeded to slowly climb the belltower, crawling up its vertical surface hand over hand and frowning as his ascent left him breathless. When he reached the top, he walked out along a narrow ledge of stone before stepping out onto the back of a jutting gargoyle, a carved facsimile that bore little resemblance to the real thing.
The Goblin sat down next to his daughter and she wordlessly handed him another pie which he eagerly tore into. In a few mouthfuls he was sufficiently recovered, [Eat Anything] having rapidly refilled his stamina supply as pastry, gravy and ambiguous red meat rushed past his hungry tongue.
“You’re getting slow,” Glorious said.
“I’m getting old,” The Goblin replied.
“A year isn’t old. Humans aren't even considered children until they can walk, and that’s rarely before one,” she frowned.
“But we are not humans. And while it shouldn’t be this way—it is. A year is a long time for a goblin,” he answered.
His daughter didn’t immediately respond, instead she looked down from their vantage point at the milling masses in the streets below. He could tell from the way her furrowed brow twisted her scars that she was nervous—a rare state for a goblin to find themselves in.
“It doesn’t have to be,” Glorious said, not daring to look him in the eyes.
The Goblin nearly choked on the remnants of his pie and looked at his daughter in shock—not for her sentiment, he’d been thinking much on the subject for some time. But he had never dared to vocalise his thoughts whereas she had the gall to utter the almost forbidden suggestion out loud.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. If I were anyone else those words would see you sent straight to the butcher’s block,” The Goblin cautioned but rather than hang her head in shame or retreat from the church, Glorious let out a low chuckle and finally looked him in the eyes.
“I know the rules, father. We break so very many of them, but this one you hold sacred,” she said.
“You speak of breaking our greatest taboo like it's merely one of the dragon’s laws. Have our shared memories grown so thin that you forget why we don’t go past the cap?”
“I remember, but just because it happened before doesn't mean it has to happen again. Things are different now.”
“They are not that different.”
“But they are. Look around father and tell me what you see.”
He looked, only to quickly turn away, his small nose wrinkled in disgust.
“I see a city. A large nest full of humans. Weak, stinking, and insipid, yet each one of them has more potential than our greatest. Even ignorant, they reap the benefits of their ancient betrayal, while we who are aware of it—who strain against its capricious cruelty, are unable to rise past the limits they imposed on us,” The Goblin spat.
“Unwilling. Not unable,” Glorious corrected.
“Again you speak of forbidden things, daughter,” he chastised. “Enlighten me, Glorious. What do you see that I don’t?”
“I see an opportunity,” she began. He scoffed, but the younger goblin ignored him and continued on undeterred. “Here in this glorious city, we are protected from both culls and persecution. Rather than the humans pitting us against each other they are fighting amongst themselves while we stand unified under one banner—”
“The dragon’s banner! She is not our saviour. She used to hunt us, and since she stopped she has spent our kind like a human does coin. You weren’t there at Rhelea. You weren't even born!”
Glorious smiled wide, and her mouthful of needle-like teeth shined yellow in the morning light.
“As you said, father, a year is a long time for a goblin. Get over it. So what if she isn’t our saviour. I’m not blind enough to trust a dragon with the fate of our kind, but we can use her laws—the ones we don’t break—to forge something greater than any weapon,” she said.
“Something greater than any weapon…” he trailed off. “You want all of us to start raising our secondary classes past the level cap.”
“I want us to be strong. Stronger than the adventurers who used to hunt us for sport. And forgive me if I’m not content with the oldest of us dying after walking Creation for barely more than a year. We can be more than just fodder, we can be what we were!”
“It’s a pretty dream, Glorious, but the reality is we’ll become worse than the humans we hate the moment we level past forty-nine. The tribes will fracture and fragment, turning in on themselves for scraps of experience. It will be chaos—our enemies will exploit it, exploit us and everything we’ve built will be destroyed. Our species class is what keeps us together, once our secondaries rise above it we’ll lose ourselves. It’s what happened before, and what will happen again if we try it.”
“You’re right, father. The tribes as they are wouldn’t survive it—it would be all those dark things and worse. But a kingdom could weather the change. The humans maimed us all so that they could invent Kings and Nobility to better rule over each other. It isn’t perfect, but isn’t this city proof enough that it works? Imagine what we could do with a Goblin King and Goblin Nobles to lead us, to keep us together as we rise into third-tier classes and beyond?”
“The tribes wouldn’t stand for it. They’d say the Goblin King had been corrupted by humanity and would kill them for it. And they’d be right to. A King is a decidedly human notion.”
“Other tribes beyond these walls would, but who cares about them when they’re crawling about in the dirt, painting walls in literal shit to ward away their enemies? The dragon’s laws have given us time to grow and we’ve used it well. Here in this city, the tribes are more numerous and higher levelled than they’ve been for centuries. We aren’t the only goblins staring at the cap and wondering what would happen if we just accept the prompt. The tribes will accept it. There are enough level capped goblins in each of the major ones who want to live to force it through.”
“We just need a King,” she concluded and the silence was deafening.
The Goblin let out a weary sigh and stared at his daughter, easily the greatest of his children. He saw the multitude of scars she’d earned rapidly clawing her way through her levels—the ones she’d stubbornly refused to have healed. He looked past the desiccated ears hanging around her neck, past the sword at her hip, and at the glint in her eyes. He saw her ambition burning bright and recognised that in his old age, he’d allowed the fire that had once burned within him to cool.
Perhaps it was time to stoke those flames once again.
“You sound like you’ve rehearsed this. Who have you already spoken with?” The Goblin asked.
“Of the five largest tribes The Eye Biters, Rock Claws, and Marrow Dancers are already in. The Blood Moons and the Red Eerie are against it, but the matriarch of the Red Eerie will come around if it's you, and then the Blood Moons will have to go along with the rest or risk being torn apart by the smaller clans,” Glorious explained with a confident smile.
“If this doesn’t work they’ll eat us both,” he warned.
“We’re goblins, if we fall from this tower and can’t get up they’ll eat us,” she said, waving away his concerns.
“This is not what I expected to discuss when you asked me to meet you here.”
“If you were expecting it, you wouldn’t have come.”
“Perhaps…” The Goblin almost agreed. “I just hope we’re not making a mistake.”
“Better to make a mistake and grow from it than to stagnate out of fear of what might go wrong,” Glorious declared.
He grunted an acknowledgement and with excitement in his chest, he proceeded to break his species’s greatest taboo.
*Congratulations, you have reached level 50. You must now rank up your Shadow Knife class before you can absorb any more experience.
Shadow Knife - Unobserved and unseen you strike your foes in the dark. As a result of your prowess, this class will empower your strikes and steps with the power of shadows.
+1 Str, +4 Dex, +1 Vit, +1 Int, +1 Will, +3 Free Stats at each interval, [Rogue] tagged.
Will become…
Umbral Blade - Unobserved and unseen you bring the darkness with you. As a result of your continued prowess, this class will empower your body with the power of shadows.
+2 Str, +5 Dex, +1 Vit, +1 Int, +1 Will, +3 Free Stats at each interval, [Rogue] tagged.
Hunched Elder - Your body is entering its twilight years, as it fails your mind remains sharp. This class will empower your magic and your ability to guide the next generation.
+1 Str, +4 Dex, +1 Vit, +2 Int, +2 Will, +3 Free Stats at each interval, [Priest] tagged.
Landless King - You have been chosen to lead a fragmented people with no lands. This class will empower your decrees and bind your subjects to your rule.
+1 Str, +4 Dex, +2 Vit, +1 Int, +1 Will, +1 Cha, +3 Free Stats at each interval, [King] tagged.
He hesitated.
The Goblin had been checking his rank-up options regularly since the massive influx of experience from the Monster’s defeat had pushed him to his second cap. The three classes the System had offered to him hadn’t changed in all of that time—until today. As if summoned by his daughter’s council, the class Landless King had appeared out of nowhere replacing a thoroughly uninspiring Tribal Chieftain class.
It was the perfect choice and yet… he saw the fires of ambition burning bright in his daughter’s eyes whereas his burnt cold.
She had done this—all of it; she’d earned her levels by herself, outpacing many of the veterans from Rhelea. She’d found supporters for an idea so taboo that merely discussing it would see you consigned to the cookpot. She’d wrangled the tribes and carved a path forwards for their people when countless aeons of tradition said they must stagnate and die.
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And in that time he’d eaten meat pies, grown a small paunch and complained about his aching knees.
No. Glorious was right and she was wrong. Helion was a shining example of what Kings could build, but the goblins’ very presence in Teerythia’s greatest city was a direct consequence of their many failings.
The time for Kings has passed. With the human Queen biding her time in the palace, a dragon Queen out for her throne, and now a new Queen of the North, perhaps there was space for the goblins to have one of their own.
Dismissing his prompts, he said as much to his daughter and though she protested and fought, in hindsight she didn’t fight that hard to avoid her fate. The Goblin watched in silence as Glorious closed her eyes and her tag warped and flickered before his eyes.
In an instant the goblin sitting next to him was gone and in her place was a Queen.
She looked exactly the same, the same scars, the same ropes of corded muscle that bulked out her unusually squat frame, but there was something different about her in addition to her changed tag.
“How do you feel, daughter?” The Goblin asked.
“Regal,” the Queen smiled. “Now it’s your turn.”
He wanted to protest, to ask more questions, but he couldn’t. Glorious’s words were not a suggestion—they were a command, and for the first time since she’d broached this subject, he started to believe that it could work.
When he checked his options again, he was unsurprised to see that Landless King was gone, and in its place was something far more fitting.
First Knight - You have been chosen to be the living blade of a sitting monarch. This class will aid you in fulfilling your duties for so long as you keep to your oaths.
+2 Str, +4 Dex, +2 Vit, +1 Int, +1 Will, +3 Free Stats at each interval, [Knight] tagged.
He made his choice and felt the change. As the System’s power stormed through his ageing body, bringing with it 11 points of life-extending vitality he felt his two classes wrestle within his chest for dominance. In the past, the conflict had been so one-sided that he’d barely noticed it, yet this time to his horror he felt his species class lose.
The ever-present goblin in him retreated, sinking back behind his new knight class. When it receded, so too did large parts of his psyche that he’d never known were just the insidious whispers of his class. He was still a goblin, but he was no longer The Goblin. Already, he could feel his as yet undefined role as Glorious’s First Knight supersede his once important instincts. A large part of what made him him was suddenly quiet and in its place he felt a noticeable need to uphold his Queen’s honour, to fulfil his duty, and slay her enemies.
The knight looked at his queen and saw her face remain steady while he processed the changes.
Name:
Species: Goblin
Age: 1
HP: 530/530
SP: 530/530
MP: 150/150
Strength: 50
Dexterity: 100
Vitality: 53
Intelligence: 25
Willpower: 15
Charisma: 10
Class: First Knight - Level 50
Shadow’s Concealment - Level 49
Shadow’s Edge - Level 49
Shadow’s Sight - Level 49
Shadow’s Agility - Level 49
Unassigned Skillx1
Class: Dungeon Goblin - Level 49*
Breed Anything - Level 49
Eat Anything - Level 49
Kill Anything - Level 49
Use Anything - Level 49
“How do you feel, father?” Glorious asked.
“Different, My Queen. Less, but also more,” the knight said.
“It is as it should be.” Queen Glorious looked at him appraisingly, her eyes briefly distant as a skill took hold. “Arise, father, we have much work to do.”
He stood, having not realised that he’d been kneeling in the first place.
“What next?” he asked.
“Before we go to the tribes, we need to get you some more levels. This rank-up will buy you time, but not nearly enough if you’re to survive until the next species rank, and I want my First Knight strong when we face them,” she said.
“Is that really necessary? I thought they were on board with your plan?”
“I may have… exaggerated some aspects of their agreement. The tribes will come, but it will get… bloody,” Glorious smiled.
“I suppose it is the goblin way,” the knight relented. “But where am I to get the experience from? The dragon has returned from the north and there are to be no great battles. The southern lords remain cowering in their castles while the palace in the city’s heart remains beyond us.”
“Have you heard of the Experience Merchants?” the Queen asked.
“I might have…” he said, thinking back to his human pie. “I know we have coin that we hardly use, but surely you aren’t suggesting we buy levels from the humans.”
Glorious scoffed.
“Of course not, but they are criminals in violation of the dragon’s laws. The punishment for that is death and I don’t think anyone would mind if we were a little enthusiastic in pursuing that punishment.”
“It won't be enough. No matter how many they’ve butchered for levels, they’ll still be low levelled.”
“I know, but it will be a start.”
The two laughed, and when they were done, the Goblin Queen and her First Knight clambered down from the church tower and set to work.
They had levels to earn.
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