Chapter 39: The Goblin Scout
“Outstanding men like you stand out anywhere, like fireflies in the night—so bright, so remarkable,” Jima said. “It’s natural to be a source of jealousy.”
“Lying will get you penalized,” George replied expressionlessly.
“Hey, hey, they’re stepping on your face. Show off a little, slap them back,” Jima’s tail beneath her skirt wagged happily. “I just thought of a great idea: you should hammer a goblin’s head into its chest, then perform a live demonstration of tearing apart goblins and pull out a rib to kill all of them. They’ll definitely be shocked, with their mouths agape.”
Although it was Jima who directed the jealousy toward George, her intention wasn’t just to trouble him but to use him to strike down those she didn’t like. On one hand, it would serve her enemies right; on the other hand, the disliked ones would be humiliated—double enjoyment combined…
Agree, come on, you’re supposed to be a tool!
“No.”
The only response from George was a firm “no.”
“Ah?”
“Why should I punish myself for others’ ignorance?” George asked curiously. “Actions speak louder than words; soon the poor goblin will prove this for me.”
“Well, isn’t that just being a coward?”
George flicked Jima’s forehead and said, “Hearing you talk about slapping faces makes my skin crawl.”
“It hurts.”
Jima exclaimed exaggeratedly, glancing at George’s face, only to see he truly didn’t care. Her tail drooped involuntarily.
A delightful light laughter came from ahead.
“Strawn must have gone through a lot to become stronger,” Lise said, her bright blue eyes fixed on Strawn while praising him.
Strawn continued to boast in his deep voice, capturing the beauty’s attention.
Before, Lise had politely found opportunities to chat with George to avoid awkwardness. But ever since Strawn became captain, she hadn’t spoken a word to either Jima or George.
Jima felt they had been completely ignored, as if they were mere servants here to carry goods.
After nearly two hours of walking, Jima’s little feet had developed blisters.
Finally, they arrived at a grove on a small hill.
“We’re here; move quietly, and let’s sneak up to the top of the hill,” Strawn said.
They were clearly still a hundred meters from the hilltop, with trees providing cover. Yet Strawn crouched down, his large head on his thick neck, cautiously looking around as if they were in a dragon’s lair, with a sleeping dragon resting ahead.
The others didn’t exaggerate their actions but moved quietly, except for the poet Disha, who was smiling and gently strumming his lute.
“Hey, be careful not to make any noise and take it seriously,” Strawn said, pointing at George. “Adventure isn’t suited for someone wearing that heavy full plate armor; you should take it off.”
George said nothing but slightly bent down. Strawn nodded, pointing a finger at Jima’s nose, “And you—don’t cry later, got it?”
Jima took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to give him the finger, silently marking this reckless fool on her blacklist.
Strawn was quite pleased. He turned back and continued leading the group in “stealth.” Lise looked excited, tiptoeing behind Strawn as if there really was a sleeping dragon at the top of the hill.
The five of them crawled slowly to the top, with Jima feeling she had wasted a precious seven minutes of her life.
Below the small hill was a cave. The entrance on the hillside was about a person high and two people wide, shrouded in darkness. In front of the cave was a small mound where three goblins were ganging up on a frail fellow goblin, kicking and beating it.
These weak and wicked beings were shorter than Jima, about the height of a ten-year-old child, with green skin, long ears extending outwards, red eyes, and mouths wide enough to reach their ears.
Their gear was also poor. The thin bodies wore oversized ragged clothes, the only piece of iron around being a spearhead tossed on the ground.
Truly the recognized “newbie monsters.”
This group of careless sentries seemed easy to handle.
The only thing that posed a challenge was a wooden frame about ten meters behind them, hanging a rusty gong with a stick placed beneath it.
Red-haired Strawn lay on the grass, with a grass hat on his head, his eyes wide open as if facing a great enemy, as if below them lay a group of three-meter-tall trolls.
“Come here and listen to my battle plan,” Red-haired Strawn climbed down and lazily pointed at poet Disha, saying, “You provide long-range support. Shoot the goblin closest to the gong with an arrow first. You, George, just make a sound by banging your sword against your chest when you appear at the hilltop to intimidate them. I, along with Lise, will crawl on the grass and flank them.”
“Remember, only move when I initiate the attack.”
At this moment, a strong gust of wind brushed Jima’s face, and she caught a whiff of Lise’s faint perfume.
She smiled slightly, watching Strawn coldly, waiting for him to embarrass himself. Goblins have keen senses of smell.
“That won’t work,” George said. “They have keen senses—”
“Who understands better, you or me?” Strawn interrupted. “These beasts are just fooling around.”
George closed his mouth and said nothing.
Lise seemed excited, her face flushed. She held a staff in her hand, though it was unclear what it was for. Strawn led her, lying on the ground, slowly edging toward the goblins through the grass.
“Ten precious minutes of my life are about to vanish,” Jima sighed.
Poet Disha lounged on the grass, stretching lazily and asking, “Sir Knight, how would you command?”
“Charge straight in.”
“Good idea. I suspect he’s been influenced by a recently popular novel, overly estimating these weak creatures,” poet Disha replied. “By the way, you don’t seem much like a Bartow knight.”
“You don’t seem much like a poet,” Jima said, speaking for George.
“You’re right about that,” poet Disha laughed, picking up his lute. “Bardic life is just a pastime. The lives of the nobility are colorful; wanting to be a poet today, an adventurer tomorrow—there’s always someone to pick you up. How lovely.”
After saying that, he bit down on a blade of grass and closed his eyes to rest.
George took off his helmet and quietly said to Jima, “What he just said was true.”
Jima was about to look at poet Disha when a shrill scream came from below.
“Gululu! Long legs! Long legs!”
“In the grass!”
Jima hurriedly kicked off her shoes and ran to the hilltop to see them embarrass themselves.
About fifty meters away from the goblin sentries, in the grass, Red-haired Strawn, covered in grass clippings, got up and charged at the four goblins. Lise stood frozen, unsure of what to do.
Two goblins immediately bent down to grab their spears, pointing them at Strawn. Even worse, one goblin ran toward the gong, picked up the stick, and began to strike the gong.
It seemed they were running out of time.
An arrow flew over the heads of the goblins, striking one in the backside. The goblin let out a yelp, jumped up, but was not dead, still intent on hitting the gong.
Jima watched as George picked up a stone he had prepared earlier and hurled it, smashing it straight into the goblin’s head. The crisis was resolved as he sprinted toward the remaining goblins.
Red-haired Strawn charged into the group of three goblins, instantly taking one down. The remaining two immediately turned to flee, and Strawn chased after, killing one and tossing his short sword, impaling the other.
He breathed heavily, relieved at his luck, managing to hit amid the chaos.
“Wow, that’s impressive,” Lise approached with wide eyes. “I’m sorry for being a burden.”
“It’s fine; I should be the one apologizing,” Red-haired Strawn said. “Killing goblins is too easy; I wanted to present you with a thrilling adventure.”
“Quite thrilling, indeed,” Jima arrived at the scene, saying, “If my lord hadn’t thrown the stone and hit, we would have had a hundred goblins escaping.”
Red-haired Strawn completely ignored Jima, stepping on the only surviving goblin, which had been bullied all along.
This scrawny goblin pleaded in broken Common, “Wah, wah, spare me! I have an eighteen-year-old mother at home and an eight-year-old wife I just snatched.”
Strawn smiled and turned to Lise, saying, “Lucky you, watch.”
Lise nodded, her face filled with anticipation.
Red-haired Strawn kicked the goblin and shouted, “Want to die or want to live?”
“Fire!” the goblin knelt on the ground, tears rolling down its cheeks.
“Who knows if you’ll betray us?” Red-haired Strawn placed the short sword against the goblin’s neck. Its face turned red, looking even more nervous than the goblin.
“Wah! I… I can lead you; there are big pits on the way that can kill you,” it said. “They lay eggs, beat me all day, and I’m very happy.”
Red-haired Strawn was overjoyed and said, “Great.”
Turning his head, he soaked in Lise’s admiring gaze and glanced at George, saying, “Newbie, did you learn something?”
Only to find George no longer looking at him, but bent down with Jima, inspecting the tracks in the grass nearby.
Jima slapped George and said, “He’s just showboating.”
George stood up, pointing at the trembling goblin, saying, “It’s lying.”
“Newbies can’t learn well, so don’t talk nonsense,” Red-haired Strawn raised his chin. “I understand, you understand? Let’s go; we’re going to launch a surprise attack.”
“There’s something odd,” George pointed at the tracks.
Jima supported George’s point, “The tracks are deep, indicating a four-wheeled cart. This suggests a significant amount of supplies might have come through recently; we’d better say goodbye to cheerful adventures if we go in.”
Strawn drew closer, glancing at the hidden tracks in the grass and smiling suspiciously, “Are you scared?”
Jima extended her middle finger at him. Red-haired Strawn grabbed the hilt of his sword but with consideration for Jima being a child, said, “What’s wrong? Are you letting a child speak up for you?”
George was about to persuade Strawn but instead let it go and silently pulled Jima away.
Lise shook her head, increasingly feeling George was being foolish. Poet Disha smiled quietly from the side.
“Wah, just let me lead the way!” The scrawny goblin, like a dog, led them to the cave entrance.
“Be careful; our ambush must be cautious and bold, be on high alert. Lise, just follow behind me,” Red-haired Strawn continued in a teaching tone at the cave entrance. “Hey, newbies, what are you doing?”
“Gululu.”
Jima reluctantly drank a brown bark-colored potion, her skin instantly turning the color of bark. George was now downing a second bottle of a strange magical potion.
“Let’s buff up, right? Didn’t you say to be cautious? We’re just drinking magical potions in advance,” Jima said.
“Want a share?”
George asked.
Poet Disha took a bottle and said, “Tsk, at least fifty gold coins a bottle. You wouldn’t even sell enough to clear out a goblin nest.”
Lise looked at Jima’s bark-colored skin and smiled, refusing, “Thank you, I don’t need it.”
“I don’t need it; I have it.”
Red-haired Strawn unhappily said, feeling he couldn’t lose face. He pulled out a water pouch from his backpack and gulped it down, munching on a piece of jerky.
“Let’s go.”
Fully “buffed,” the five of them entered the cave, led by the little goblin, whose red eyes gleamed with crafty light.
