Two days later, Rik returned with twelve goblins trailing behind him. They were thinner than his group had been, their skin cracked from hunger, their eyes darting at every sound. One of them carried a child on her back, a small goblin girl with wide yellow eyes who stared at the chapel like it was a dream.
Zarvon met them at the palisade gate. "Welcome."
The lead goblin, a male with a scar across his face, looked at Zarvon's horns and dropped to his knees. "Lord. We heard a demon lord was giving shelter. We came."
"Get up." Zarvon's voice was flat. "Not a lord yet. Just a demon with a chapel and some food."
The goblin stood slowly, confusion on his face. "You… you don't want us to kneel?"
"I want you to eat and help build walls." He gestured toward the chapel. "Lysara's got stew. Go."
The goblins shuffled toward the chapel, hesitant at first, then faster when the smell reached them. The child on the mother's back reached out toward the smoke rising from the chimney, her small fingers grabbing at the air.
Lysara appeared at the door, ladle in hand. "There's enough for everyone. Come in."
She guided them inside, her voice soft. The goblins who had been with Zarvon for the past week helped settle the newcomers, showing them where to sleep, how meals worked, where the latrine was being dug.
Zarvon stood by the palisade and watched the camp grow. The system updated.
[Population: 18 (3 original goblins + 12 new goblins + Zarvon, Lysara, Nyxara).]
[New arrivals: 12 goblins, 1 child. Housing capacity exceeded. Recommendation: Expand sleeping quarters within 3 days to avoid morale loss.]
"We need more space," he said to Nyxara, who had come up beside him.
She was looking at the same notification. "The chapel can hold maybe ten more. We need proper huts."
"The goblins can build. They've been doing it all week." He looked at their wood pile. "We need more lumber."
She pointed toward the forest. "Abandoned logging camp two miles east. Owners fled when demon hunters started patrolling. Probably still tools there. Maybe a cart."
"Show me tomorrow. Today, we build the watchtower."
---
The watchtower went up faster than he expected. Goblins worked in shifts, cutting logs, stripping branches, lashing the frame with bark rope. By the end of the second day, a fifteen-foot tower stood at the north corner of the palisade, with a platform big enough for two lookouts and a roof of woven branches.
Rik climbed to the top and sat there for an hour, just staring at the forest. When he came down, his eyes were wet.
"Never been above the trees before," he said. "Never seen how far the world goes."
Zarvon clapped him on the shoulder. "Now you're the one who sees trouble coming before it gets here. That's important."
Rik nodded and climbed back up.
The new goblins settled in quickly. The ones who had been hiding in the cave were skilled at weaving and trapping. They set snares in the forest that brought in rabbits and birds, wove baskets that Lysara used to organize her herbs. The child, a girl named Mica, followed Lysara everywhere, watching her heal minor injuries with wide eyes.
On the third night, Zarvon sat with Nyxara in the chapel, going over her reports. She had received word from two contacts in the capital: the church was gathering a larger force, but they were focused on the northern territories first, where a demon tribe had been raiding villages. The camp had time, maybe two weeks, maybe three.
"That's not much," Zarvon said.
"It's enough." She unrolled a map on the altar. "There's a fortress on the border, about fifty miles south of here. Used to be a military outpost. The church took it over five years ago. Now it's a prison for captured demons and a staging ground for hunter squads."
Zarvon studied the map. "You want to take it."
"I want to scout it." She traced a route through the forest. "If we can get inside, see how many hunters are stationed there, we might find a weakness. Stone walls. A well. Space for hundreds."
He thought about it. The camp was growing, but it was still just a clearing with a wooden fence. One serious attack would break them.
"Who's stationed there now?" he asked.
"That's what I don't know." She folded the map. "I need to go to the capital. Talk to my contacts in person. Letters are too slow."
"You want to go back." His voice was flat.
"I want to go back alone. Faster." She met his eyes. "Three days. I go in, get the information, come out. The hunters won't be looking for a noble's daughter who's supposed to be dead."
He didn't like it. But she was right. "Three days. If you're not back by then, I come looking for you."
She smiled. "You won't have to."
---
She left before dawn, wearing a traveling dress Lysara had altered to look worn, her silver hair dyed brown with crushed walnuts. She took a small bag with coins and a knife hidden in her sleeve. She walked out of the camp without looking back.
Lysara stood beside Zarvon at the gate, watching her go. "She'll be fine."
"I know." He didn't move until Nyxara disappeared into the trees.
The days without her were quiet. The goblins worked on the sleeping huts. Lysara taught Mica how to identify healing herbs. Zarvon patrolled the perimeter twice a day, his Shadow of Night ability letting him move unseen through the forest.
On the second day, he found footprints near the creek a mile south of camp. Human boots. Three pairs, maybe four. Fresh, maybe a day old. He followed them for half a mile before they turned toward the main road. Not coming toward the camp. Passing by.
He reported it to Lysara when he returned. "Scouts. Probably looking for the hunters we drove off. They didn't find us."
"This time." She was feeding Mica a bowl of stew. "What do we do?"
"Wait for Nyxara. Then move."
---
Nyxara returned on the third evening, just before sunset. She walked into camp with a tired smile and a satchel full of papers, her brown dye already washing out in streaks of silver. The goblins cheered. Mica ran to grab her hand.
Zarvon met her at the gate. "You're late."
"By two hours." She let Mica drag her toward the fire. "Had to bribe a guard. Cost me twenty silver."
"Worth it?"
She pulled a folded paper from her satchel. "The fortress has forty hunters, a commander, and a stockpile of weapons. But the real prize is underground. A holding cell. About thirty captured demons. Strong ones. Been there for years."
He took the paper and read it by firelight. "Forty hunters. Stone walls. A gate that closes at dusk."
"There's a weakness." She sat down on a log, accepting a bowl of stew from Lysara. "The commander, Aldric, is greedy. Every month, he takes a group of hunters north to raid villages. Keeps a quarter of what they take. The church doesn't care because he delivers results."
"When's the next raid?"
"Three days." She ate a spoonful of stew. "He takes fifteen hunters. Leaves twenty-five. But the fortress has a drainage tunnel that empties into the river. Old, half-collapsed. A small person could get through. A goblin."
Zarvon looked at the goblins around the fire. Rik was listening, his ears perked up.
"If we send a small group through the tunnel at night, they could open the main gate from inside," Nyxara continued. "We hit them when half the garrison is gone. We take the fortress."
"Twenty-five hunters is still a lot," Lysara said.
"But they won't be expecting an attack. Bored, comfortable, not watching the walls." Nyxara looked at Zarvon. "Risky. But if we pull it off, we have a real stronghold."
He looked at the fire, then at the goblins, then at Lysara and Nyxara. "We do it. But we need more than twenty goblins against twenty-five hunters. We need numbers."
"The goblins in the cave weren't the only ones hiding," Rik said from across the fire. "There are more. Scattered. If I go, I can find them. Bring them here. Maybe ten, maybe twenty."
"How long?" Zarvon asked.
"Five days. Maybe six." Rik stood. "But I bring them."
Zarvon nodded. "Go tonight. Take food, take a knife. Come back with whoever wants to fight."
Rik grabbed a bundle of bread and dried meat from Lysara, tucked a knife into his belt, and slipped out of the camp before the moon rose.
---
The next five days were a blur of preparation. The goblins who stayed worked double shifts, reinforcing the palisade, digging a trench around it, sharpening stakes to line the bottom. Zarvon trained with his abilities, learning to merge with shadows faster. Lysara brewed healing potions from her herbs, filling clay jars that she lined up on the chapel altar.
On the fourth day, a group of six goblins arrived, led by a female named Kessa who carried a spear made from a sharpened hoe blade. They had been hiding in a cave near the river, and Rik had found them on his second day out.
On the sixth day, Rik returned with fourteen more goblins. Twenty in total. The camp's population swelled to forty-two, and the new arrivals looked at the palisade and the watchtower with open disbelief.
"You built this?" one of them asked, a young male with a scarred ear.
"We built it," Rik said. "And we're going to build more. After we take the fortress."
The goblins gathered around the fire that night, listening as Nyxara laid out the plan. The drainage tunnel, the gate opening, the attack at midnight when the hunters were asleep. Zarvon would lead the main force through the front, using Shadow of Night to take out the guards on the walls. The goblins would swarm through the gate once it was open.
"We're not just attacking a fortress," Zarvon said when she finished. "We're taking a home. Somewhere no hunter can reach us. Somewhere we can build something real."
The goblins looked at him, their faces lit by firelight. For the first time, Zarvon saw something in their eyes that wasn't fear. It was hope.
"We fight," Rik said. "We win."
The goblins echoed him. "We win."
---
The night before they marched, Zarvon stood alone at the watchtower, looking south toward the fortress. The system showed the mission clearly.
[Main Mission: Capture the Border Fortress. Enemy forces: 25 demon hunters. Allied forces: 1 Demon King, 1 Spy Master, 1 Healer, 38 Goblin Warriors.]
[Reward: New territory (Fortress), +2000 gold, +50 population (freed demons), new construction options unlocked.]
[Risk: High. Recommend full utilization of skills and terrain.]
He heard footsteps behind him. Lysara climbed up, her robe hitched to her knees.
"Can't sleep?" he asked.
"Neither can you." She sat beside him, her legs dangling over the edge. "I'm scared."
"Me too."
She looked at him. "You don't look scared."
"That's because I'm too tired to show it." He put an arm around her. "But I am. I keep thinking about what happens if we lose."
"We won't." Her voice was firm, but her hand was shaking on his arm.
He pulled her closer. "We won't. But I'm still scared."
She leaned into him, her head against his shoulder. "I used to pray before battles. In the village, when the hunters came through, I prayed for them to pass us by. It never worked."
"What do you do now?"
She was quiet for a moment. "Now I trust you. And Nyxara. And the goblins who decided to follow a dead office worker with horns."
Zarvon laughed. "That's a lot of trust."
"It's enough."
They sat in silence, watching the stars appear above the forest. Below them, the camp was quiet, the goblins asleep in their new huts, dreaming of walls that wouldn't fall.
[Nymphaearoot the Author]: Hope you enjoy reading! If you like it, please add it to your library and let me know your favorite moments in the comments