Chapter 40: The Difference between seeing and understanding.
The goblins swarmed.
Not in a coordinated assault, more like a wave of green bodies driven by instinct. Some carried crude spears, their tips sharpened to a point. Others hurled stones, their aim wild but determined. They gathered around the Pākranaz trees, forming a barrier between us and the fruit.
Kaede's sword was already drawn, her body shifting into a defensive stance. "Stay behind me."
The doll stepped forward. Its lion helm turned slowly, golden eyes scanning the approaching wave. It did not attack. It simply positioned itself between me and the goblins, a silent wall of armor and presence.
The first goblin reached us. Kaede deflected its spear with a smooth motion, using the flat of her blade to push it aside rather than cut it down. Another followed, and another.
The doll blocked a thrown stone with its armored forearm, the impact ringing through the clearing.
I summoned the G-Pen. Not to attack, to create a barrier. A quick circle, a line of ink that rose between us and the charging goblins, buying us space.
One young goblin stumbled. A stone had hit its leg, and it fell hard, crying out in pain. The other goblins hesitated.
Then a deep voice echoed through the grove.
"Enough."
Everyone froze.
An elderly hobgoblin walked slowly into the clearing. His fur had turned grey, and he leaned upon a carved wooden staff. Unlike the other goblins, he wore simple human-made clothing, a leather apron, old work gloves, and a worn satchel that had clearly seen years of use.
He stopped between us and the goblins. His eyes moved over the scene, the fallen goblin, the scattered stones, the Pākranaz trees.
I lowered my G-Pen. Kaede did not lower her sword.
The hobgoblin sighed. "Every year. The same thing."
I stared. He spoke in common. His voice was weary but sharp, the voice of someone who had lived among humans long enough to learn their language and their habits.
He looked at me. "You are not like the others who come here."
I did not know how to answer that.
The doll's golden eyes met the hobgoblin's gaze. Neither moved.
The elderly hobgoblin's words hung in the air.
"No more fighting."
Kaede was visibly shocked. Her sword was still drawn, but her stance had shifted from readiness to uncertainty. "...A talking hobgoblin?"
The old goblin smiled. Not a sharp grin, not a threatening baring of teeth. A weary, knowing smile.
"Not all of us remain in the forest."
He gestured with his carved staff. "There are two kinds of hobgoblins. Forest hobgoblins, they stay with their tribes. They protect the groves. They lead their villages." He paused. "And then there are town hobgoblins. We live among humans. Work as builders, porters, quarry workers, dockhands, and lumber handlers."
He looked down at his own hands, calloused and worn, the hands of someone who had labored for decades.
"When we grow old... some of us choose to return home."
He looked toward the Pākranaz trees. His voice dropped, heavy with something that was not quite anger.
"Every year... more adventurers come. They harvest everything." He gently picked up a fallen Pākranaz, holding it as if it were fragile. "When winter comes... my children starve."
Silence.
Kaede lowered her sword. The goblins had stopped moving. The forest had gone quiet.
The elder looked at me. His eyes were old and tired, the eyes of someone who had seen too many harvest seasons end in hunger.
I looked at the Pākranaz in his hand. At the young goblins behind him, their baskets still half-empty. At the doll, standing silently between us.
I did not know what to say. I did not know what the right thing was.
But I knew we would not be taking any fruit today.
***
The elder invited us.
Not as prisoners. As guests.
Kaede hesitated, her hand still resting on her sword hilt. She looked at me, questioning. I nodded.
We followed.
The path wound deeper into the forest, past the grove of Pākranaz trees, into a part of the woods I had not seen before. The undergrowth thinned. The canopy opened. And the goblin village emerged before us.
It surprised me.
Children played near a central fire, chasing each other with sticks. Families cooked over small hearths, the smell of roasting root vegetables filling the air. Simple homes built from living trees rose around us, structures that had grown rather than been constructed, their walls woven from branches that still bore leaves.
Elderly goblins sat in the shade, weaving baskets from strips of bark. Their fingers moved with the practiced ease of generations. Nothing resembled the "monster camp” I remembered from games I used to play.
It felt like another village.
Just poorer.
We were led to the elder's hut and invited inside. It was modest, with woven walls, a fire pit at the center, and shelves lined with dried herbs and carved tools. The elder sat down on a worn cushion, and we followed suit.
The doll stood just inside the entrance, its golden eyes scanning the space with quiet vigilance.
The younger goblins had gathered at a respectful distance, watching us with curiosity rather than fear.
The elder studied us for a moment. Then he spoke.
"You are the first adventurers to sit in this hut in many years."
Kaede glanced at me. I could feel her uncertainty, her readiness to respond to whatever came next.
"I know," I said. "I'm sorry it took so long."
The elder's eyes crinkled, not a smile, but something close. "You are not responsible for the actions of others."
"Maybe not. But I can try to change them,” I added.
"Years ago, humans harvested only after we had stored enough food. Everyone survived." He gestured toward the forest. "Then more adventurers arrived. Guild requests increased. Competition grew."
He paused. "Nobody asked. They simply took."
Kaede's expression shifted. She was listening, but I could see the realization forming behind her eyes.
"The guild probably never knew," she said quietly.
The elder nodded. "They only see the requests. They do not see the villages."
I thought carefully before I spoke.
"I can't promise anything."
The elder nodded. "I know. You are only one adventurer."
"But," I continued, "I can promise to speak with the Guild Master." I looked at Kaede. She nodded, understanding what I was asking.
He leaned forward, his staff resting across his knees. "You spoke of speaking with the Guild Master. Do you believe they will listen?"
I thought about the guild. The quest boards. The badges that told stories of trust and persistence. The receptionist who had given me my first reward. The simple fact that I had earned a Cu rank.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "But I can try."
The elder nodded slowly. "That is more than most have offered."
He reached into his satchel and withdrew a small object, a carved wooden token, worn smooth by years of handling. He held it out to me.
"Take this."
I accepted it. The wood was warm, smooth, and etched with symbols I did not recognize.
"What is it?"
"A token of passage," he said. "Should you ever need to return to our village, you will be welcome. The younger goblins will recognize it and not attack."
I closed my fingers around it. "Thank you."
The elder's gaze moved to the doll. It had not moved from the entrance, but its golden eyes were fixed on him.
"Your companion," he said. "It is not a golem. Not a construct. I have seen both. This is something else."
I looked at the doll. Its lion helm gleamed in the firelight. Its golden eyes burned quietly.
"I'm still learning what it is," I said.
The elder nodded. "The best companions are the ones we never fully understand."
I looked toward the doorway.
A little goblin no older than Wilhelm peeked inside, clutching a half-filled basket almost bigger than he was.
He smiled when he saw the elder.
Then disappeared again.
He stood, signaling that the conversation was over. Kaede rose beside me. I tucked the token into my belt.
We walked to the edge of the village. The younger goblins watched us pass, their eyes curious but no longer hostile. The children waved. I did not know when I would see them again. But I wanted to.
"Perhaps harvest seasons can be regulated. Perhaps gathering limits can be introduced. Perhaps..." I paused. "Perhaps there is another way."
The elder smiled. For the first time, his weary eyes held something that might have been hope.
***
We stood at the edge of the village, ready to leave. The younger goblins had returned to their tasks. The children had gone back to their games. The village was quiet, peaceful, and ordinary.
I stopped. Turned.
"May I ask you something?"
The elder inclined his head.
"Why did you try talking to us? Most adventurers would have listened.”
He was quiet for a long moment. His gaze moved past me, toward the forest, as if he were looking at something I could not see.
"Because I have tried many times before," he said. "Every year. Every year they drew their weapons before I finished speaking." He smiled, sad and tired. "Eventually, I stopped believing anyone would listen."
I lowered my eyes. Then I asked, "Then why us?"
The elder studied me. Not my face. My eyes.
"Because when I looked at you," he said softly, "I did not see someone looking at monsters. I saw someone trying to understand."
Silence.
Even Kaede said nothing.
We walked back toward town. The forest was quiet around us, the leaves rustling softly in the breeze. The doll walked beside me, its golden eyes scanning the trees.
Kaede finally spoke. "You know... most adventurers would've finished that fight."
I looked toward the forest behind us. The Rānūþiz grove was out of sight now, but I could still feel its presence, the weight of the elder's words.
"Maybe," I said.
I thought of Echoes Sight. Of the intruder. Of the elementals. Of the Fairy King's lessons. Everyone carried something. Everyone had a story.
The wind rustled the leaves of the Rānūþiz grove behind us. The forest felt at peace.
Will the guild master accept the negotiation...
Find out in the next chapter, same time, same place.
