Chapter Twenty-One: "A Fine Name!"

Afterward, Ox recounted to Shaya Thunderclap and the Wretch a poignant story of a goblin who defied tyranny and bravely resisted oppression—a tale both tragic and stirring. Translated into human language, Ox’s testimony went like this:

The territory near the wilderness belonged to a goblin tribe, one of the larger tribes among the many scattered across the Wildfire Plains, numbering over a thousand. Such numbers made them a rare and prosperous clan among goblins of the region. With that population, even subtracting the elderly, the infirm, and the women and children, they still boasted more than two hundred goblin warriors.

Ox’s royal consort was born into this tribe. By his own account, he was considered a rare specimen—a handsome goblin, by goblin standards.

(At this point, Shaya laughed heartily, utterly unsympathetic, and mocked, “You call yourself handsome? Your goblin standards of beauty are truly bizarre!” But as he finished, he caught the Wretch glancing at him with a peculiar half-smile.)

The story continued…

The tragedy of Ox lay in being far too comely—for a goblin. Yet that was not the root of his misery. Had it simply been his looks, he might have married several goblin wives and faced the daily turmoil of domestic warfare. His true misfortune was being born into a powerful tribe whose current chieftain was both valiant and an exceptional leader, but possessed a vexing flaw:

He harbored an unusual preference.

It was said that when the chieftain sought a wife, he surveyed every young female goblin in the tribe but found none to his liking. Upon seeing the handsome Ox, however, a spark ignited—a thunderbolt struck, and a forbidden passion blazed in his heart.

Thus began Ox’s tragedy…

Such events were not unheard of in the human world. Many noblemen indulged in the love of young men, and open affairs between men were not uncommon. Some even kept male companions, and it was rumored that the heir of the Byzantine Empire favored such relationships.

But! But! But! They were goblins!

When humans pursued such passions, they often did so with a certain elegance and sorrow. For goblins, however, the matter was utterly baffling—goblins had no tradition of such things.

As a handsome goblin, Ox was forcibly made the chieftain’s consort, suffering unbearable treatment under the chieftain’s authority. Yet Ox, yearning for freedom and possessing a normal disposition, endured the torment for a time before finally taking a stand against his relentless fate: he fled.

He abandoned his legal status as a member of the tribe, became a wanderer in the wilderness, forsook the comforts of the royal consort’s life, and braved the harsh elements, living day to day.

For a goblin, being a wanderer was perilous. Goblins were weak in the Wildfire Plains; without the protection of a tribe, survival was uncertain in the wild. Still, Ox chose this path, and in that, he was a goblin of dignity.

“No wonder… When he saw those goblin warriors earlier, he buried his head. He must have been afraid they’d recognize him,” the Wretch sighed.

Shaya sighed as well. Though he was rarely sympathetic, even he felt a pang of pity for this goblin. He softened toward Ox, untied the ropes binding him, and even gave him a piece of wolf meat.

Ox was deeply grateful and quickly shared all the valuable information he knew about the surrounding area.

The territory belonged to the “Passionate Goblin Chieftain,” and heading northeast would take a full day to leave the tribe’s sphere of influence. Beyond lay a river that dried up in winter. Following its bed northward, apart from the present tribe, there were only scattered smaller tribes along the way, numbering two or three hundred at most. Some gangs of goblin bandits, composed of wanderers, might reach a dozen in size.

To follow the river to its end would take about three days, at which point one would leave goblin territory. Beyond that lay the northern regions of the Wildfire Plains.

In the north, a vast mountain stood as a natural barrier; crossing it, one could gaze upon the distant Odin Empire.

Shaya’s heart leapt—perhaps that very mountain was the dragon’s lair!

And to repay Shaya for the piece of wolf meat, the consort drew a crude map, marking all the goblin tribes likely to be encountered on the journey north.

Pleased, Shaya declared he would release this honorable consort.

“In truth, you could return to the tribe. Wanderers eventually become the lost ones,” Shaya sighed. “Besides, I broke your leg… Ah… your leg, ruined! Lost ones, a sorry fate!”

Ox’s eyes widened, and he pointed to his broken leg. “Me, lost one, leg, ruined!” Then he turned and patted his backside. “Me, consort, backside, ruined!” He turned back, wearing a look of deep sorrow. “Me, lost one, willing! Consort, unwilling!” As if unsatisfied, he added, “Leg, ruined, endure, willing! Backside, ruined, endure, unwilling!”

Shaya and the Wretch collapsed in exasperation once more…

…

After a while, Shaya felt a newfound respect for the goblin chieftain he had never met. “What’s the name of that goblin chieftain?”

“Sky Assault, strongest goblin chieftain!”

Assault? Uh…

Shaya was shaken, and sincerely praised, “A fine name! Truly a fine name! He is the man his name suggests—indeed, the man his name suggests!”

Then, the tragic consort provided another detail that made Shaya’s eyes gleam.

Just a few days ago, a band of powerful humans traveled north through this territory. The nearby goblin tribes had tried to attack them but suffered greatly.

“Could it be those dragon-hunting magicians?” Shaya was overjoyed, but upon further inquiry, the consort’s answer proved otherwise.

According to Ox, these humans numbered several dozen, all fully armored knights with spare horses and excellent equipment. On their first day, they wiped out a small goblin tribe and reportedly captured a few wandering goblins before heading north.

It seemed… these humans were searching for something important.

The Wretch glanced furtively at Shaya.