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Description

It was all I could do to keep my breath as I was dragged up the mountainside with the others. This trek was more labor than I'd done in my entire life, and the skin on my hands was completely defenseless to the rope that bit into my wrists. Had I known this would occur, I might have spent more of my days acclimating myself to the rugged terrain, or building callouses, but one doesn't exactly plan on getting captured by goblins.

My fellow captives and I were all tied in a long line as we were forced to march ever upward. I looked at the other humans, desperate for some sign of hope. Behind me at the back of the line was a page. His gaze looked empty and distant, as if he was long gone. I envied him, as I would rather have been anywhere but where we were now. In front of the line was the castle's chef, who was a blubbering mess. The goblin's relentlessly dragged him along, poking prodding, and jeering as he pleaded, wept, and stumbled up the hill.
Behind him just in front of me strode his lordship Duke York, keeper of the castle, and lord of the duchy of Oestia. Or Perhaps I should say that he was those things, after today he was a duke in name only. An unprecedented goblin horde had overrun his lands and taken his lordship's fortress. Everything he'd ever owned now trampled under the slimy feet of goblin marauders.

Regardless of the situation, he wore a regal look about him. Certainly not a comfortable or happy look, but there was a silent dignity, even as he stumbled up the rocky path with the rest of us. There was a good chance he would be ransomed off to neighboring noble families, and spend the rest of his life as a guest under their protection. A humiliating fate for certain, but better than what likely awaited us, for a chef, a page boy, and an artist like myself had little in the way of prestige and titles. There would be no ransoms offered for our lives.

At long last, we reached the top of the hill. Our savage captors finally let us rest, but it was a bitter respite, as we all knew that this meant that we were that much closer to death. We glanced around fearfully for gallows, a chopping block, or worse; a boiling cauldron, for the goblins were well known for their brutality to prisoners. The absence of any such arrangements was not necessarily reassuring.

Instead there were merely assortment of pilfered loot from the castle strewn about the hilltop into little piles. Caravans of goblin soldiers carried more back from the castle, while goblins both elder and uglier sorted through the piles. The pandemonium centered entirely around one particular Goblin who stood in the middle, to whom all who passed displayed utmost respect with quick bows and frantic groveling.

The beast was not difficult to miss, as the vermillion hair and massive axe immediately set it apart from the others. Unlike its gaunt counterparts, this thing was stout, sturdy, and stood half a head taller. As it turned towards us, I could recognize familiar human-like features that identified the leader as female. Despite this, the matriarch carried herself more like a warlord than with any grace or dignity befitting a lady.

The goblin party leading us conversed with her briefly in their vile gibberings, and she gestured demandingly at the first captive. Our poor chef was cut from rest of us, and led forward with his hands bound. Upon arriving before the warlord, he was thrown to the ground where he groveled pathetically until the matriarch addressed him in the tongue of men with surprising fluency.

“What is your name?” She asked.

“T-terrance milady!” He whimpered. She briefly conferred with one of the elders, who seemed to be trying to determine what a “Terrance” was. Eventually they decided on rephrasing the question.

“What is your purpose?” She asked. The chef was confused at first, but did his best to interpret her intent and quickly respond.

“I am a chef milady!” She cocked her head inquisitively, apparently the savage did not understand this word. “I cook things, make food tasty and safe to eat, prepare meals for the nobility and their guests!” He explained.

The leader reached into a nearby satchel and pulled from it a piece of old, dried meat. Holding the desiccated morsel in front of his face, she spoke another word in her hideous language.

“Um, yeah, jerky? I can make jerky sure, but I can do a lot more than make jerky, I can make stews, cakes, bread, roasts-” He trailed off as the leader called a particularly ugly goblin hag over. She showed her respects to the leader, and at her order, drew a wicked knife. The chef turned away and whimpered, but instead of slicing his belly open or cutting his throat, his bonds were cut.

“You, cook with Agga now.” The leader explained, gesturing towards the hideous crone who was already walking away. He stood stunned for a moment before the old creature turned back, clearly expecting him to follow. Snapping out of his stupor, he dropped knees at the foot of the goblin leader offering the same bow the creatures gave.

“Thank you milady! Thank you so much!” He blubbered in between his tears before scrambling after the elderly hag to his new duties.

The lord rolled his eyes, but I was beyond ecstatic. If they were willing to spare Terrance, perhaps these beasts could be reasoned with! Maybe the rumors of them being merely ruthless savages were unfounded after all! At that rate, maybe they could be manipulated into letting us all go!

My revery was interrupted by the leader gesturing the lord forward. Upon being cut from the line, he required no escort, and merely strode up to the leader confidently. The elder standing next to her began to draw a dagger defensively, but the warlord, gestured for him to stay his hand.

“I am Duke York of Oestia, lord of the realm and keeper of castle Whiterock. To whom am I speaking?” The nobleman introduced himself.

“I am Queen AxeBlood, scourge of the northern valley, crusher of the horn beast, and Oestia. What purpose is a... Duke?” She replied.

“Purpose? I am the lord of this castle, and rightful ruler of this land and all things in it.”

“Ruler?”

“Indeed, I give rulings, and those within my realm obey.”

“Really? Show me.”
“What?”
“Show me.” She gestured at two goblin soldiers, who readied spears at me. “'Rule' him to try to attack me.”

I held my hands up defensively. Did she think that he was some kind of mind controlling sorcerer? Worse still, would the Duke actually go through with it and give me the order?

“B-but he is unarmed. He'll die if I order him to attack now.” He tried to explain.

“Do you not rule your men to their deaths? Many men died by your ruling today, no?”

“Well yes, but-”

“Then order him to attack me.” She repeated.

The lord hesitated for some time. Finally he sighed in frustration and made his choice. “Alright then, go ahead.”

I stood frozen. Did he really mean for me to throw myself onto their spears? He may have been jesting, those those goblins certainly weren't.

“Come on, get on with it!” He order me, with increasing frustration.

I couldn't believe it. He was really willing to let me die. He wasn't even upset about it. Surrounded by vicious goblins and yet it was the cold, callous words of my own master that ordered my death.

“I said kill her!” He bellowed, but my knees collapses, and it was all I could do to weep.

“Your ruling is not very strong.” She commented.

“Ingrateful welp, you'll pay for this!” The nobleman cursed.

“So what can you offer me, 'Duke?'” She asked, readying her axe.

“I have riches, gold, you beasts understand gold, right?”

“I already have your gold.”

“I-I am a nobleman! I am entitled to ransom!”

“Ransom?”

“Yes! You cannot hurt me, because the neighboring duchies will pay a lot of gold if I am returned to them unharmed!”

“They have gold?”

“Heaps of gold!”

“Then why don't we just take their gold?”

“You can't! It's protected in massive castles and fortresses, and guarded by armies!”

“Didn't you have castles?”

“Well yes-”
“Didn't you have armies?”

“Yes bu-”

“And now we have your gold anyway.”
“Maybe, but their armies and castles are much bigger!”

“Your army and castles weren't very big. We're not afraid.” She declared, approaching him as she began to lose patience.

“W-wait! You can't just take what you want! This is an outrage! I am a duke of the realm! I am the rightful ruler of this land! It is mine by birthright! You can't just-” He was interrupted by the ax splitting his head open. His blood and brains spattered across the stoney ground, and his body crumpled.

I turned away, unable to face such a gruesome sight. I certainly had no fondness for the lord in light of recent events, but I had no interest in watching a man cut down so brutally. The page boy on the other hand was smiling.

It was my turn now. Roughly, they dragged me to the goblin queen's feet.

“What is your purpose?” She demanded.

I no longer felt the hope I felt moments ago. They were not merciful, they were not civil, they could not be tricked. They would spare me or kill me based on one factor and one factor alone: whether I was useful to them or not.

“I am an artist milady!” I stammered out, meekly attempting the bow I'd seen the other goblins doing.

“Artist?”

My blood froze. It appeared that “artist” was not one of the words she knew. How the hell could I explain what an artist is to a goblin?!

“I-I am a painter milady, I have had many a nobleman and noblewoman stand for me and I create a painting of them in their likeness!” I frantically tried to explain as she lifted her axe. I could see her underlings behind her lifting the corpse of the fallen lord and tossing him over the cliffside.

“I take lords and royalty and put a copy of them onto canvas!” I exclaimed. She paused.

“A copy?” She asked curiously as she lowered her axe slightly.

“Yes! A copy! I am a copier!” I declared desperately.

“Show me.” She demanded. “Make a copy of me.”

“I-I can't! I need my tools I-” I tried to explain through tears, knowing it was futile as she lifted her axe once more.

“Your tools are right there milord.” The page interjected from behind. I turned frantically to where the boy was pointing, and the queen paused. Sure enough a caravan of goblins seeking loot from the castle had brought my entire paint collection, by brushes, my easel and several canvases, and tossed them into one of the piles.

“There! I can do it! Just let me set up! And I can make a copy of you on canvas!” I offered.

She reluctantly set her axe down before replying. “Fine copier. Let's see your copy.”

I had never set up a canvas so fast in my entire life. It was not the best circumstances, but they had allowed the page to help me, and after getting the queen set up in her pose, I was ready to begin in less than a minute.

I'd had made countless portraits and paintings of counts and countesses, dukes and duchesses, nobles and courtesans. But never had I painted one where my life was at stake. After all the courts I'd applied to in my life, this one would be the last if I didn't make a masterpiece and impress the goblin queen. So after quelling the shaking in my hand, I brought my brush to the page and began.

Description

It was all I could do to keep my breath as I was dragged up the mountainside with the others. This trek was more labor than I'd done in my entire life, and the skin on my hands was completely defenseless to the rope that bit into my wrists. Had I known this would occur, I might have spent more of my days acclimating myself to the rugged terrain, or building callouses, but one doesn't exactly plan on getting captured by goblins.

My fellow captives and I were all tied in a long line as we were forced to march ever upward. I looked at the other humans, desperate for some sign of hope. Behind me at the back of the line was a page. His gaze looked empty and distant, as if he was long gone. I envied him, as I would rather have been anywhere but where we were now. In front of the line was the castle's chef, who was a blubbering mess. The goblin's relentlessly dragged him along, poking prodding, and jeering as he pleaded, wept, and stumbled up the hill.
Behind him just in front of me strode his lordship Duke York, keeper of the castle, and lord of the duchy of Oestia. Or Perhaps I should say that he was those things, after today he was a duke in name only. An unprecedented goblin horde had overrun his lands and taken his lordship's fortress. Everything he'd ever owned now trampled under the slimy feet of goblin marauders.

Regardless of the situation, he wore a regal look about him. Certainly not a comfortable or happy look, but there was a silent dignity, even as he stumbled up the rocky path with the rest of us. There was a good chance he would be ransomed off to neighboring noble families, and spend the rest of his life as a guest under their protection. A humiliating fate for certain, but better than what likely awaited us, for a chef, a page boy, and an artist like myself had little in the way of prestige and titles. There would be no ransoms offered for our lives.

At long last, we reached the top of the hill. Our savage captors finally let us rest, but it was a bitter respite, as we all knew that this meant that we were that much closer to death. We glanced around fearfully for gallows, a chopping block, or worse; a boiling cauldron, for the goblins were well known for their brutality to prisoners. The absence of any such arrangements was not necessarily reassuring.

Instead there were merely assortment of pilfered loot from the castle strewn about the hilltop into little piles. Caravans of goblin soldiers carried more back from the castle, while goblins both elder and uglier sorted through the piles. The pandemonium centered entirely around one particular Goblin who stood in the middle, to whom all who passed displayed utmost respect with quick bows and frantic groveling.

The beast was not difficult to miss, as the vermillion hair and massive axe immediately set it apart from the others. Unlike its gaunt counterparts, this thing was stout, sturdy, and stood half a head taller. As it turned towards us, I could recognize familiar human-like features that identified the leader as female. Despite this, the matriarch carried herself more like a warlord than with any grace or dignity befitting a lady.

The goblin party leading us conversed with her briefly in their vile gibberings, and she gestured demandingly at the first captive. Our poor chef was cut from rest of us, and led forward with his hands bound. Upon arriving before the warlord, he was thrown to the ground where he groveled pathetically until the matriarch addressed him in the tongue of men with surprising fluency.

“What is your name?” She asked.

“T-terrance milady!” He whimpered. She briefly conferred with one of the elders, who seemed to be trying to determine what a “Terrance” was. Eventually they decided on rephrasing the question.

“What is your purpose?” She asked. The chef was confused at first, but did his best to interpret her intent and quickly respond.

“I am a chef milady!” She cocked her head inquisitively, apparently the savage did not understand this word. “I cook things, make food tasty and safe to eat, prepare meals for the nobility and their guests!” He explained.

The leader reached into a nearby satchel and pulled from it a piece of old, dried meat. Holding the desiccated morsel in front of his face, she spoke another word in her hideous language.

“Um, yeah, jerky? I can make jerky sure, but I can do a lot more than make jerky, I can make stews, cakes, bread, roasts-” He trailed off as the leader called a particularly ugly goblin hag over. She showed her respects to the leader, and at her order, drew a wicked knife. The chef turned away and whimpered, but instead of slicing his belly open or cutting his throat, his bonds were cut.

“You, cook with Agga now.” The leader explained, gesturing towards the hideous crone who was already walking away. He stood stunned for a moment before the old creature turned back, clearly expecting him to follow. Snapping out of his stupor, he dropped knees at the foot of the goblin leader offering the same bow the creatures gave.

“Thank you milady! Thank you so much!” He blubbered in between his tears before scrambling after the elderly hag to his new duties.

The lord rolled his eyes, but I was beyond ecstatic. If they were willing to spare Terrance, perhaps these beasts could be reasoned with! Maybe the rumors of them being merely ruthless savages were unfounded after all! At that rate, maybe they could be manipulated into letting us all go!

My revery was interrupted by the leader gesturing the lord forward. Upon being cut from the line, he required no escort, and merely strode up to the leader confidently. The elder standing next to her began to draw a dagger defensively, but the warlord, gestured for him to stay his hand.

“I am Duke York of Oestia, lord of the realm and keeper of castle Whiterock. To whom am I speaking?” The nobleman introduced himself.

“I am Queen AxeBlood, scourge of the northern valley, crusher of the horn beast, and Oestia. What purpose is a... Duke?” She replied.

“Purpose? I am the lord of this castle, and rightful ruler of this land and all things in it.”

“Ruler?”

“Indeed, I give rulings, and those within my realm obey.”

“Really? Show me.”
“What?”
“Show me.” She gestured at two goblin soldiers, who readied spears at me. “'Rule' him to try to attack me.”

I held my hands up defensively. Did she think that he was some kind of mind controlling sorcerer? Worse still, would the Duke actually go through with it and give me the order?

“B-but he is unarmed. He'll die if I order him to attack now.” He tried to explain.

“Do you not rule your men to their deaths? Many men died by your ruling today, no?”

“Well yes, but-”

“Then order him to attack me.” She repeated.

The lord hesitated for some time. Finally he sighed in frustration and made his choice. “Alright then, go ahead.”

I stood frozen. Did he really mean for me to throw myself onto their spears? He may have been jesting, those those goblins certainly weren't.

“Come on, get on with it!” He order me, with increasing frustration.

I couldn't believe it. He was really willing to let me die. He wasn't even upset about it. Surrounded by vicious goblins and yet it was the cold, callous words of my own master that ordered my death.

“I said kill her!” He bellowed, but my knees collapses, and it was all I could do to weep.

“Your ruling is not very strong.” She commented.

“Ingrateful welp, you'll pay for this!” The nobleman cursed.

“So what can you offer me, 'Duke?'” She asked, readying her axe.

“I have riches, gold, you beasts understand gold, right?”

“I already have your gold.”

“I-I am a nobleman! I am entitled to ransom!”

“Ransom?”

“Yes! You cannot hurt me, because the neighboring duchies will pay a lot of gold if I am returned to them unharmed!”

“They have gold?”

“Heaps of gold!”

“Then why don't we just take their gold?”

“You can't! It's protected in massive castles and fortresses, and guarded by armies!”

“Didn't you have castles?”

“Well yes-”
“Didn't you have armies?”

“Yes bu-”

“And now we have your gold anyway.”
“Maybe, but their armies and castles are much bigger!”

“Your army and castles weren't very big. We're not afraid.” She declared, approaching him as she began to lose patience.

“W-wait! You can't just take what you want! This is an outrage! I am a duke of the realm! I am the rightful ruler of this land! It is mine by birthright! You can't just-” He was interrupted by the ax splitting his head open. His blood and brains spattered across the stoney ground, and his body crumpled.

I turned away, unable to face such a gruesome sight. I certainly had no fondness for the lord in light of recent events, but I had no interest in watching a man cut down so brutally. The page boy on the other hand was smiling.

It was my turn now. Roughly, they dragged me to the goblin queen's feet.

“What is your purpose?” She demanded.

I no longer felt the hope I felt moments ago. They were not merciful, they were not civil, they could not be tricked. They would spare me or kill me based on one factor and one factor alone: whether I was useful to them or not.

“I am an artist milady!” I stammered out, meekly attempting the bow I'd seen the other goblins doing.

“Artist?”

My blood froze. It appeared that “artist” was not one of the words she knew. How the hell could I explain what an artist is to a goblin?!

“I-I am a painter milady, I have had many a nobleman and noblewoman stand for me and I create a painting of them in their likeness!” I frantically tried to explain as she lifted her axe. I could see her underlings behind her lifting the corpse of the fallen lord and tossing him over the cliffside.

“I take lords and royalty and put a copy of them onto canvas!” I exclaimed. She paused.

“A copy?” She asked curiously as she lowered her axe slightly.

“Yes! A copy! I am a copier!” I declared desperately.

“Show me.” She demanded. “Make a copy of me.”

“I-I can't! I need my tools I-” I tried to explain through tears, knowing it was futile as she lifted her axe once more.

“Your tools are right there milord.” The page interjected from behind. I turned frantically to where the boy was pointing, and the queen paused. Sure enough a caravan of goblins seeking loot from the castle had brought my entire paint collection, by brushes, my easel and several canvases, and tossed them into one of the piles.

“There! I can do it! Just let me set up! And I can make a copy of you on canvas!” I offered.

She reluctantly set her axe down before replying. “Fine copier. Let's see your copy.”

I had never set up a canvas so fast in my entire life. It was not the best circumstances, but they had allowed the page to help me, and after getting the queen set up in her pose, I was ready to begin in less than a minute.

I'd had made countless portraits and paintings of counts and countesses, dukes and duchesses, nobles and courtesans. But never had I painted one where my life was at stake. After all the courts I'd applied to in my life, this one would be the last if I didn't make a masterpiece and impress the goblin queen. So after quelling the shaking in my hand, I brought my brush to the page and began.