Monarch Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Fire crackled low in the center of the camp, casting flickering shadows over Rayne's face. He couldn't believe their luck—or bad luck, in this case.

Not every injured person had health potions in the end. It turned out two of them were also forsaken like him and Nate, and others had refused to share. Bran hadn’t brought any, which Rayne found strange, while Kesh had none left.

It had slowed them down a lot to carry the injured, and the sun had set before they knew it. The only thing they could do was set up camp, start a fire, and guard each other before making for Algar early in the morning.

And right now, it was Rayne’s guard duty.

He sat near the edge of the camp on a log, sword resting against it, and hoped that no duskstalker or nightwolf would find their way to the camp.

His eyes flicked toward the bloodstained, sleeping faces of his party members. Most of them were asleep, propped up against trees or rolled in their cloaks, too tired to speak. The injured lay nearest the fire, tended with what little they had—cloth and basic salves.

And to the left of the fire, the red goblin he had captured was bound to a tree in a thick vine that Bran had found. It had stopped screeching once they had stuffed its mouth with a cloth, but it still looked around with wide eyes, probably thinking of a way to escape.

Unfortunately for him, Rayne doubted it could survive even if released.

Sudden footsteps took his attention away from the goblin, hand touching the hilt of his blade. Grass rustled on the other side of the clearing and Rayne stiffened, only for Bran to walk up.

He held a grin on his face and a canteen in his hand.

Bran moved up toward him and handed him the canteen, and Rayne took a swig from it. The old veteran settled next to him on the log as he gave back the canteen. He knew water had no taste, but he still couldn't get used to lake water.

“I have no idea what you even want to do with the goblin,” Bran grunted, taking a swig himself and looking toward the tied-up monster.

“Why did you even allow me to take it as a prisoner?” asked Rayne.

“You did good today,” he replied. “Couldn't say no to someone who saved the lives of others. And I figured you would have killed it by now.”

“Saved lives?” He raised an eyebrow.

Bran leaned in toward him, a smile on his face. “Don't be modest, forsaken. You know exactly what you did. Saved Nate and Kesh from the arrows. Got everyone into formation and rushed to protect others. If you were a common soldier, I’d say you have a future as a squad leader.”

Rayne shook his head. “Didn't feel like I did anything big. We walked right into their traps.”

“That we did.” Bran grimaced. “But that's on me. I led you all to it. A good leader should have noticed the ambush and called it off. Maybe even planned around it.”

“But you said you had never seen red goblins lay a trap. How would anyone expect it?”

Bran smiled. “The races of this world have had a long history of war. It carries itself into every corner of the world, and with magic being given into the hands of psychopaths and murderous lords by the gods, new things keep propping up. A new strategy, a new skill or spell. Or even monsters acting crazy like today. A good leader needs to expect even the unthinkable.”

“Sounds like a line from a speech a new squad leader would give.”

“Oh, it is that. I just find it suitable for the fuckup that nearly happened.”

Rayne chuckled. He had never had the chance for a long conversation with Bran before, and the veteran felt far more pleasant to talk to than his expectations. At least he wasn’t always stuck up.

“I bet Fredrick would have done worse,” he said.

Bran snorted. “He would have run at the first sign of the ambush failing and would’ve had an arrow up his ass. Though, seeing him in the field that day, I think he would have never attempted it in the first place. Cowardice in House Lanrice is ironic.”

That caught Rayne’s attention. He shifted, facing Bran. Firelight caught the lines on his face, and he saw a small scar going across the old man’s neck.

“You know his house?” he asked.

“I believe anyone interested in Valerian history would know of them. Lanrice is the creation of one of the ancestral houses, Herran, breaking up. I don’t know what happened, but a few sons renounced their surnames and founded their own houses centuries ago. Participating in a war was enough for them to get status as a baron since they have ancestral blood flowing in them.”

Those were a lot of new words.

Ancestral houses? He vaguely recalled what they meant from Rayne’s memories but couldn’t quite put a meaning to them.

But he could tell that being connected to an ancestral house was a big thing. He propped up Fredrick’s threat level in his mind.

Seeing him quiet, Bran continued. “That’s why it’s ironic that Fredrick’s such a coward. Anyone with even a wisp of ancestral blood in them should be valiant warriors and mages.”

“Is that why Axel gave him the position of scout leader?”

Bran shrugged. “Possibly, but Fredrick’s the fourth son. He certainly won’t get the baron seat, so I believe Axel’s trying to pander to either the current baron or one of his sons, who Fredrick supports for the next seat as a baron. You should know more about noble politics than me.”

Rayne lowered his head, looking toward the fire. Bran couldn’t be more far from reality.

“I’m a bastard,” he said. “Wasn’t really close to history or political lessons. My upbringing was far from a noble’s.”

Bran nodded, to his surprise, as if already knowing that.

“I could tell. You aren’t spoiled like the current generation of nobles. I’ve seen a few, and even concubines’ sons and daughters act like they’re above everyone but the crown and gods.”

“I couldn’t afford to act spoiled in my situation.” Rayne chuckled.

Bran gave a somber nod, and the conversation died down as they both sat, staring into the fire. A lot more questions swirled in Rayne’s mind. Since he had woken up in this world, they were endless, but he knew he needed time to process the current information first.

Fredrick being of ancestral blood—even by a technicality—meant he might be able to cause a lot more problems for him. He needed to look out for it. But at least Axel and Hobbs didn’t seem like bad leaders to him.

Though, he hadn’t seen a lot of them. Kenzo had called Axel cursed, but he didn’t know why. Maybe he should look for the man once he gets back to Algar.

“Rayne,” said Bran suddenly, taking his attention off his thoughts. “You need to kill the goblin before we reach camp. We can’t have it go in with us. So, mind telling me how you’re going to get answers out of it?”

Rayne didn’t speak. Bran turned to look at him, waiting.

He wondered if he should simply reveal his ability, but that was far too dangerous. He decided to go with the excuse he had thought of.

“The goblins set up a trap for us,” he said.

Bran nodded in agreement. “What are you getting at?”

“So, it means they’re capable of making deliberate plans. That shows a big learning capability that I don’t think every monster shares. And if they can set up a trap like that, they’re smart enough to understand us. Maybe not our language, but our actions. And respond accordingly.”

Bran narrowed his eyes with confusion and curiosity. “That doesn’t explain how you’re going to get answers out of that little goblin. I doubt you understand goblin tongue.”

Rayne flinched but soon sported a neutral expression. “I can’t, but I just have to talk to it like I would to a mute and deaf person. I could create a picture of a nest and ask it to point out any landmarks that are around them. I bet it knows a few.”

Bran scratched his head, clearly not believing that it was a feasible idea. Even Rayne knew it would be a hard thing to pull off without his skill.

But that was the only good explanation for him to keep a goblin as a prisoner.

“Okay,” said Bran with a sigh. “I really don’t think it’ll work, but I won’t object to it until you kill it before everyone wakes up.”

“I will,” he replied.

“Good. I’ll be going to sleep then. Wake Kesh up in two hours for his shift.”

Rayne nodded and saw Bran raise himself up, place down the canteen, and move toward a tree on the right of their camp. He placed a dagger on his lap before closing his eyes.

With that, Rayne was the only one up.

He waited a few minutes, took a last look around the camp, noting everyone was asleep, before making his way toward the goblin with the canteen in hand.

Its eyes froze the moment they locked with Rayne’s. Its red skin twitched as it tried to shift, but it barely had the strength to flinch. Blood crusted its thighs from one of Bran’s arrows.

Fear was clear in its eyes. It thought Rayne had come to finish it off.

“Drink?” Rayne offered quietly in [Goblin Tongue], holding out the canteen before taking out the cloth from its mouth.

The goblin flinched.

Its eyes widened first in surprise. Then in disbelief.

“Human... speak goblin?” it rasped, its voice hoarse and broken.

Rayne simply nodded. He leaned forward and offered the canteen again. “Drink first. Then talk.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the goblin nodded. Rayne held the flask to its lips. It drank greedily, spilling some down its chin.

Once it was done, Rayne shifted just outside the biting range.

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. If you answer everything I ask. I know you want to preserve your life,” he said, his throat paining as he spoke in goblin.

The goblin gulped and squirmed under the vines. Its eyes kept looking up at him as if seeing a monster instead of Rayne. Though in this case, he truly was one.

“I don’t have a lot of time. You need to start speaking.” He grunted.

The goblin’s left eye twitched. “Human really let me go?”

“I will. I just need answers. Your life isn’t worth it to me. If you don’t speak, I’ll kill you. So keep that in mind.”

Even if he killed the goblin, Rayne doubted it would give him good experience. One level was all he had gotten out of the red goblins, though his formation skill had leveled up.

He simply put his bet on the fact that the goblin had played dead and tried to run. Compared to the last one, it seemed smarter. And he hoped it made the right decision.

“What you want… to know, human?”

Rayne almost smiled. “Only two things.”

He looked down on the ground and took out his dagger. The goblin almost let out a screech, but Rayne’s glare told it to behave.

He hacked the ground with the dagger, drawing up a crude image of the cliff where they had found the goblin nest.

“I want to know the location of other nests,” he said, raising his eyes to match the goblin’s. “And which goblin came up with the trap? Tell me these two things and you’ll have your freedom. If you don’t speak or lie…”

Rayne didn’t have to complete his sentence.

The goblin’s eyes told him that it understood. And to his relief, it started blabbering the very next second.

Rayne didn't like the answers.