Beaker presided over the evening’s celebration on a custom-built roost in the town hall. Rocky fashioned the triangular frame perch cantilevered above the speaking area in a single afternoon. It softened his prohibition against flying to the rafters.

  Enforcing the compromise took many telepathic commands. Our battle of wills only settled after my griffon tried the roost. Although it wasn’t as high as the rafters, Beaker sat comfortably without having to balance.

  The good citizens of Hawkhurst welcomed its militia members with raucous enthusiasm. Besides proclaiming the start of our trade route, the town toasted our latest officer, Ida, who passed out amounts of silver and copper for past services rendered.

  The dwarves, by far, received the most coins, and many riffled their stacks like poker chips as they considered their options. The Arlingtons received their months of back pay with awe and gratitude. Ida knew many of them, exchanging words and hugs as she distributed funds.

  I raised my voice over the clamor of pounding tables so everyone could understand our work-to-own policy for private homes and belongings. I doubt anyone appreciated the imminent miseries of Ida’s bookkeeping or the math involved with tracking work hours, meals, ale, and rent, but I explained the general gist of the system.

  The crowd met my urge for people to sign up for market booths with less fanfare, although I expected everyone would meander down to the emporium on Marketday to see what trinkets their fellow citizens offered for sale.

  Announcements for upcoming buildings encouraged rowdier behavior. At the mention of another smithy, Fin and Rory shook their fists. Farmers gave a standing ovation that the forthcoming structures included warehouses, barns, and storage space. However, news about universal assignments to the construction crew for the next few months somewhat sobered their spirits.

  It stayed quiet until I explained how Greenie modified the gatehouse blueprints for a barbican. With everyone in an upbeat mood, the room exploded in a contest to see who would cheer the goblin’s name the loudest. “Greenie!” “Greenie!”

  After everyone had worn themselves out, I shifted the discussion from the barbican to listing reasons for stepping up our defense. I did so by telling everyone about the relics. The crowd hushed when I told them we needed to enter goblin territory and retrieve it. When Bernard and Blane Silverview exchanged glances and raised their hands to volunteer, I held up my palm.

  “Sorry, boys. This is something Fab and I need to do. Our greed freed the relics, and I won’t risk anyone else getting captured—too many of us already know how goblins treat prisoners.”

  Midway through my soapbox speech, Rachel, Yula, and Fabulosa entered the town hall. Each had ivy woven into their hair in orc warrior fashion. Painted mud covered their faces in fearsome patterns to the effect of football players. Showing no interest in interrupting my spiel, they moved to the kitchen, presumably to gather a late supper plate.

  “Greenie and Ida will be filling in as governor and L.T. He has made a bonded promise to Hawkhurst—the same as everyone here and served as a founding officer. I expect everyone to support him in our absence.”

  My last sentence went unheard by the congregation because of chanting. “Greenie! Greenie! Greenie!” The dwarves undoubtedly began the chant, and the humans soon joined, raising their fists during the noise.

  Above me, my griffon fluffed his features and extended his wings as if he approved the decision. I sent mental commands to settle him down. “Don’t egg them on, Beak. They’ll never quiet down.”

  When Yula and Fabulosa approached the speaking area, I could see signs of battle on their person. Blood had spilled, and their armor sported new scrapes and dents.

  Fabulosa raised her hand, silencing the crowd. “Y’all ready for a scouting report? We have one fresh off the grill!” She shouted as if preparing a force for battle. The crowd whooped and cheered, eager to hear tales of adventure. Their response proved insufficient for the lieutenant governor, who cupped her ear and weakly adopted Yula’s accent. “I said, are you ready for zee scouting report!”

  The room roared and clapped, and Fabulosa nodded her head in approval. She stepped away, giving room for the orc huntress to address the room.

  The as-of-yet uninitiated Fort Krek soldiers grinned at one another, encouraged to join an organization with so much bravado.

  Yula’s dignified chaser to Fabulosa’s shouting did little to cool the room. Her face remained unreadable, but the unemotional orc dared anyone to interrupt. “Eet ees time for zee scouting report. Zee troglodyte gang ees no more.” She flattened her palm and sliced sideways to emphasize their fate. “My most capable protégé, Sergeant Rachel of zee Hawkhurst Forward Patrol, and zee great Lieutenant Governor Fabulosa found trogs who attack patrol only days ago. After defeating, we track to hole and eliminate scum once and for all. Much veectory for great Hawkhurst clan!” Yula raised her fist to signify the end of the matter.

  Cheers and nonsensical shouts for Greenie shook the rafters.

  Fabulosa raised Rachel’s wrist and shook it like the end of a boxing match while the room pounded the tables in appreciation.

  Yula was a hard act to follow. The conversation hummed loud enough that I worried about losing control. I’d lost my rhythm after the ladies interrupted, and I couldn’t think of ways to recapture everyone’s attention. When words failed me, it seemed a good time for the soldiers to swear allegiance to Hawkhurst.

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  The Fort Krek soldiers made their bonded promises, and everyone except Thaxter joined the settlement’s guard. Yula’s manner of leadership closed the deal. Orc or no, she was a commander they wanted to serve.

  Thaxter patted my arm and shouted into my ear over the room’s noise. “I look forward to helping you prepare for goblins. If I’m overstepping my welcome, please say so, but I have some thoughts on your second forge.”

  Searching his face to see if he was serious, not believing a human had advice about building a dwarven forge. “I’m all ears. What do you have?”

  “I’m no smith, but I can tell you where you want to build it.” Thaxter pointed south. “You’ll want it inside the curtain of defense. Plenty of makeshift blacksmithing happens during a siege. War is improvisation at the edge of catastrophe. Redundant smithies are a wise decision.”

  I waved our chamberlain over and made introductions. “This is our chamberlain, Greenie. He’s verified some plans for a barbican and designed our castle-to-be.”

  Thaxter’s bushy eyebrows raised. “Is that so? Verified plans are no simple task.”

  The goblin gave a slight nod. “It’s a matter of iteration, commander.”

  “Please, it’s Quartermaster Thaxter, now. Vestigial titles mustn’t gum up the chain of command.”

  “Quite so, quartermaster. You’ll be pleased to know I’ve also verified a short-range ballista….”

  Given the noise and distractions, I stopped following the pair as they drifted into an engineering conversation. Instead, I searched the room for Fabulosa. If she were helping me retrieve the relic, she shouldn’t be the last person in the settlement to know.

  I found Fabulosa and Rachel talking to our newest guards about fighting troglodytes. Fabulosa pointed to the ivy woven in her hair when I approached. “Do you like my au naturel look?”

  “You know that means naked, right?”

  Fabulosa stuck out her tongue.

  “You’re spending more time on patrol again?”

  “When I heard about the trogs, I signed up for Yula’s war party.”

  “What happened?”

  Fabulosa gave me a quizzical look. “I figured you would have heard about them in meetings. Hasn’t Greenie or Ally filled you in?”

  “We didn’t talk about security without you and Yula. We talked about putting out fires, economics, building queues, and that sort of thing.”

  Fabulosa grunted. “I don’t know how you do it. Anyway, Rachel and Bernard were patrolling the river earlier this week when a trog jumped ‘em. They’d be goners if not for the water.”

  “How far up the river? Near the goblin mine?”

  “Nowhere near. That’s the thing. They dug in north of the watchtower. Their sighting raised a ruckus, seeing that you and I left for Fort Krek and all.”

  “And that’s what dropped the town’s morale.” I spoke to myself more than Fabulosa.

  “Yep. And it was dumb luck that we arrived in time for me to link up with the expedition. Rachel wasn’t high enough to fight those things alone, and the monster’s yellow threat rating against the three of us confirmed them to be tough fighters. Yula and I tore after them while Rachel healed.”

  “How many did you fight?”

  “It started with just one. Then we followed it north to a hole in the ground—the one we passed with the dwarf caravan. A shaman trog healed when we fought three at once. Fighting against healing bosses isn’t fun.”

  “Did you find anything good in their den?”

  “Piles of junk everywhere, almost like the arc weaver, except not sorted by metals. Yula cast Detect Magic, but she said nothing glowed. We salvaged some to melt down for tools or whatnot.”

  “You’re still level 30, I see.”

  Fabulosa shrugged. “Yeah. The trogs gave a lot of XP, but it takes hundreds to gain a level these days.”

  “Grats on your victory. Do you mind if we left the town hall for a second? We need to talk.”

  Fabulosa sighed. “Okay. I think I know what this is about. I’m sorry I missed all the meetings today, and we didn’t mean to interrupt your speech, but giving the trogs payback made me lose my head.”

  Outside, our conversation returned to non-shouting volumes. While walking to the orrery, I explained my theory about the relics for the fourth time.

  When we reached the orrery, we stepped inside. Once again, the table map served as the perfect visual aid. I pointed out the relic coordinates. Like the steps showing math solutions, the old markings illustrated how Greenie and I came to our conclusions.

  Fabulosa crossed her arms. “Remember how many times we bumped our heads in the mine? I don’t want to make chasing goblins a habit. They probably won’t even give experience. I don’t know, Patch. Do you want to spend the entire game chasing relics? There’s a little been-there-done-that going on.”

  “What are you talking about? You have a purple core, and the mummies give experience. Plus, there’s a near guarantee of a dungeon.”

  “That’s true, and RPGers like me understand the value of rinse and repeat. But I want to make that cape. I talked to Rory the night we returned, and he said the coldiron ingots could make shears sharp enough to cut the steel wool we found in Malibar.”

  “Yeah, Ally told me about your request for another smithy.”

  “Technically, Rory requested it. He says we need another to keep up with the town’s demand for metal bits. This way, I’ll be able to make my cape without slowing Hawkhurst down.”

  I laughed. “Your fingerprints are all over Rory’s request—but sure, you’re in good company for wanting another smithy. But you see our need for a barbican, right?” I gestured to the table map.

  Fabulosa’s voice echoed in the orrery. “We won’t need defense if we mind our own business. Let’s leave the goblins alone. They’ll go after someone else, and we can find fresh adventures. If they’re fixed on finding a relic, let them. They’ll only be a danger to themselves. If your theory about relic bearers going after power is correct, they’ll ignore Hawkhurst. They’ll attack Eastern cities that they raided before the goblin wars. Or maybe they’ll tunnel under the river and hit the orcs—and if the emperor has his own, then the problem solves itself.”

  A dozen arguments came to mind, but I could only stare agape at her resistance. The goblins presented the last danger to Hawkhurst. If she dropped everything to go after trogs, why not finish the job and hit the goblins?

  She’d tag along if I left, so there seemed no point in arguing now. I still had weeks of language lessons before I could go.

  “Greenie wants to teach me to speak goblin. Perhaps they’re like the kobolds—if the relic is too hot to handle, they’ll let us destroy it.”

  “How long is it going to take to learn that?”

  “About two months.”

  “Am I getting a new smithy to make my cape? I’m not sure what powers it’ll get—or if I can even make it.”

  I nodded. “We need to build a few things first, including a woodshop, but I think so. You’ll have time to rank up your blacksmithing and train with Dino.”

  Fabulosa ignored the comment about her lover. Her eyes darted about as she scanned the orrery’s interior. “Do you know what’s wrong with this place?”

  I looked around at the orrery’s interior, unsure of what she meant.

  “This place needs some chairs.”

  I laughed, releasing the tension.

  “Am I right? It needs some right-cushy lounge chairs or couches. No wonder no one ever uses it.”

  I conceded the point. “You’re right. Libraries always have their best chairs near the magazines and newspapers. I never understood that. The people with the lightest reading had the most comfortable seats.”

  Fabulosa clapped me on the back. “I’m calling it a day, and you look as tired as I feel—and I’ve been hoofing it all day in the woods, unlike you white-collar types in your cushy offices.”

  “Hey, you’re one of those, too, L.T.” I teasingly emphasized Fabulosa’s title.

  Fabulosa gave the orrery one last look. “If you spent last night in here doing geometry, you should probably call it early, too.”

  “I’ve had an earful of suggestions today, and that’s the best of the bunch.”

  “That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”