Stump forced the signpost into the ground as far as it would go. After adjusting it to face the road outside the Knight Inn, he stood back to observe his creation.
The head was slightly narrower on one side and he'd forgotten to leave much space for the ears. Reema only had one shade of green, which was so dark it was nearly black and made the yellow eyes far too prominent. The teeth were all different sizes and not as sharp as he'd like, and the mouth occupied too much of the face.
He was happy with the nose, though.
Stump hadn't actually seen his own reflection since he was four, just before Grogul—before he was Hogsbreath—kicked him into the murky pool he'd been staring into, so most of his artistic choices came from his recollection of the other members of his tribe.
Above the smiling goblin face was the word "GOBLIN", the paint still dripping, and squeezed beneath its chin read "KNIGHT". "Penny company" was written in a smaller font near the bottom corner. Reema had handled that part as he was sure he'd muck up the letters painting so small.
Reema had disagreed with the idea at first. She'd never held a company inside her inn, she said, and didn't think Stump would find any luck with their lack of patronage, anyway. After he assured her the extra signage might bring in more customers for her and Jin, and promising he'd give it up if he got no quests after one day, she relented.
She was even kind enough to repurpose one of their tables into his very own desk, complete with a candle, a ledger book (filled with accountings of the inn, but still, it looked official) and an inkwell and quill. Stump set his magical pages next to him as the final touch.
"You want somethin' while you wait?" said Jin.
Stump looked over his shoulder to see the large oxfolk standing in the kitchen doorway, drying his hands on a dirt-smeared rag. "Thank you, but I'm not hungry," he said.
His grumbling stomach disagreed.
"You sure?" Jin asked, hearing the goblin's hunger pangs. "I can make ya Reem's spicecap stew. Or maybe some hushcakes if you're lookin' for something sweet. They're glazed in dripwine and a touch of skybloom."
Stump didn't know what any of those words meant, but Jin's uncharacteristic lilt at the listing of ingredients was enough to make his mouth water.
"I'm alright, Jin," he said politely. He was hungry, but he was too nervous and excited to promise anything he put into his belly wouldn't come right back up on a wave of bloodlust. Any strong emotion had the potential to stir its power.
Jin frowned and slapped the rag over his shoulder. "Suit yourself then," he grumbled, and returned to his work.
Stump faced ahead and watched the door in his little bubble of candlelight. "Greetings, I'm Goblin Knight," he muttered, practicing under his breath. "I'm Stump, of Goblin Knight… I'm Stump, leader of Goblin Knight… Greetings…"
He took a deep breath, steadied his heart, and tried again.
"Good day, I'm Stump, the Goblin Knight. How can I be of service?"
He nodded to himself, flattened his tunic and adjusted his scarf, and allowed a brief smile as he waited for his first client to arrive.
 

 
Stump straightened when the door creaked open. A catfolk stumbled through, then collected himself long enough to pretend he was sober.
"Welcome back, Reza," said Reema, sliding over on a breeze of magical warmth. "Sit anywhere you like. You're a little early for lunch but Jin's already getting started."
On cue the sharp sizzle of grilled vegetables rolled through the inn. The catfolk's whiskers twitched at the smell of butter. He nodded his thanks to Reema, fell into a chair under a window speared by twilight, and surveyed the interior.
Stump brightened when their eyes met. "Good day," he said, throat dry and throbbing with his heartbeat. Why is talking to people so hard?
The catfolk replied with a quizzical look. "It is?"
"Uh… I think—"
Realizaton bristled the catfolk's fur when he noticed Stump's bureaucratic setup. "Not interested in what you're selling," he said sharply, and turned away.
"No, I…" Stump began, but swallowed his argument. Don't look so eager, he thought, urging his ears a little lower.
Customers came and went over the next hour. Morg passed out, woke up, had a drink, then passed out again. The lunchtime crowd brought three bodies in at once. Some of them looked over at Stump, wondered why he didn't have a drink for himself, and when Reema explained he was looking for his first mercenary contract, they shook their heads and chuckled, and ignored him for the rest of their stay.
She cleaned tables and rearranged chairs when everyone except Morg had gone. Occasionally she'd flash Stump an encouraging smile. He forced one back, but his stomach was starting to turn.
He looked at the candle. It was getting shorter.
Half of the inn was full for the dinner rush, and Reema was too occupied to notice Stump's ears had begun to dip. He listened to the laughter and clanking of tankards and fiddled with his thumbs, and thought of Yeza.If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
A shadow crept over him. " 'Scuse me?"
A burly orc with a grievous underbite and bottom fangs towered over the table. Stump adjusted in his seat, blinking.
"Oh… yes? Uh, greet—good day," he said. His belly fluttered. "My name's Stump of Goblin Knight. How can I be of service?" He extended a hand, having picked up on the gesture in Penny Square.
The larger man pointed to the opposite chair. "You need this?"
Stump faltered. "Uh… well, it's for…"
"Thanks," grunted the orc. He hauled the chair up with one meaty hand and turned away.
Hour by hour the tables vacated, the patrons left, and the laughter left with them. Reema made the rounds, restocking and resetting. Every so often she'd throw Stump another smile. Eventually he stopped smiling back.
The sun rolled across the sky, but dusk never left. Dinner came to an end, and the final stragglers tipped their cups back and clattered empty mugs on their tables. Soon they were gone, too.
By then the candle was more flame than wax.
No one's coming.
"You want something to eat?" Reema asked when it was just the two of them and a snoring Morg. Stump shook his head. She stepped around him and rested a hand on his shoulder. "You tried," she said, and gave him a gentle squeeze.
He sat alone for a long while, eyes fixed on the door, hoping for the slim chance it would swing open one more time and someone needing help would saunter in. It didn't need to be a big quest. It didn't even have to pay very well. He just wanted enough for Reema and to give his fee to the clerk in Penny Square.
Finally he sighed, closed the ledger, and blew out the candle. He was about to slide off his seat when someone dragged a chair over.
The wood complained when Jin sank his weight into it. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.
"You still lookin' for a job?" he said, voice low. He stole a glance at the kitchen doorway. Yellow light and Reema's humming spilled through.
Stump nodded uncertainly. "I am."
The cook hesitated, then reached into his apron and produced a crumpled page. He flattened it with a palm. "I got this acquaintance. His name's Daggan. He runs the tank, the Cantankerous Tankard, over in the Downs. Thing is, he's got some real nice barrels there, exclusive to the tank. Jailburn's probably the best seller."
Stump shifted in his seat. He already felt out of his depth, but his ears stood straight out like bat wings, taking in every detail.
"Now I don't know how he gets his brew and I get it's a secret of the trade, no problem there." Jin wagged a finger, one of which was as thick as Stump's wrist. "Thing I can't shake is how he sells it so cheap. Here we are chargin' a copper for watery ale when the tank's got their prices down to almost nothing. And like I said, they've got some premium, high quality taps. Rumour is he might even have some proper sungrain beers. It's a big inn, too. Biggest in Grimsgate. Maintenance can't be cheap."
"Right," said Stump, nodding along. He took some mental notes to brush up on his economics later. The tribe hadn't helped him much there—he knew shiny things were better than less shiny things, and that two heads was a better gift than one head, and that if too many people gifted the matrons heads the value of each would plummet, causing the head market to crash.
"And it's a real shame for the other taverns in Grimsgate, 'cause they can't keep up. Can't provide competitive offerings, neither. Heard some of them might be shuttering if it stays like this," Jin continued, then leaned in closer. "All I need you to do is wander over to the tank and have a look around. Maybe figure out what they've got goin' on that lets them sell for so cheap. Could be their customer turnover is out the arse, could be the beer's a little watered down like ours, I don't know."
Stump was so enthralled by the prospect of his first quest that he had forgotten to take any actual notes. "Why don't you head over there?" he asked, more out of curiosity than insolence.
Annoyance flashed across Jin's ample jowls. "If Reem or I went it would be obvious what we're up to. You're new in town. No one knows you, meanin' no offence."
"That's alright," said Stump. "So that's it? Have a look around?"
"Talk to the bartenders there, maybe, or some of the patrons. Otherwise, that's it." Jin slid his hand across the wood, and when he pulled it away, five copper coins glimmered in bubbles of orange light. "I'll give ya another five when you get back. We got a deal?"
Stump's eyes widened at the sight of the coins. He'd seen more in one pile on raids for the matrons, but he'd never been given money before. He wished it wasn't coming from Jin, as it wouldn't make sense to pay Reema back with it, but at least he could put it towards the company fee.
He nodded. "Deal," he said and reached a hand across the table.
Jin's grasp devoured Stump up to the wrist.
 

 
Stump pulled the red scarf around his neck and tightened his tattered blue cloak.
He set the badge atop the torn pages and hid them under the cot. The day had vanished so quickly he'd forgotten to take the time to read them, but resolved to do so after he got back from the Cantankerous Tankard.
My first quest, he thought. His belly fluttered, and he couldn't decide if he liked the feeling or not. After all, his first raid had gone horribly.
His first affection too, but he should have ignored Nailtooth's claims that Rabbitfoot had been telling the tribe how tall and brave he was, and that she wanted to meet behind that tree after nightfall. She'd been so sweet in the hours leading up to their secret tryst, and she was just as kind when he found her there, right up until the others burst out of the bushes and the rocks started flying.
They didn't hurt very much—his skin had already thickened from earlier torments—but it was Rabbitfoot's cackling that was worst of all. The stones drew blood and her laughter drew tears, and Stump ran for the safety of the cave to the shouts of "coward" at his back.
But that wasn't what he remembered most that night. It was dim, faraway. His mind had clipped the unimportant details and distilled the memory into a lesson in the core of his being—nobody likes me.
Nobody except Yeza. That's what he remembered most. The softness of her voice as she dabbed his eyes. The scent of woodsmoke and the firelight flicker of their shadows on stone, the whispered breeze of that cool summer night, and the soothing warmth of a gesture common among the tall men that she'd learned from a book. A hug, she called it.
He remembered being happy, blood and tears be damned.
Stump blinked himself out of his reverie. My first quest, he told himself, with a little more confidence, before he skimmed Jin's instructions half a dozen times, breathed deep, then slipped the crumpled page into his pouch and made for the stairway.
He stopped short of the top step.
"And? What did he say?" Reema's voice was quiet in the dim light below.
The inn had been cleaned, its front door locked and windows closed. Stump couldn't see the two innkeeps, but their shadows speared across the floor, made uneven by tables and chairs.
"He said yes," said Jin. "He'll head over and take a look around, nothin' more."
"Good. Thank you."
There was a pause. "You sure 'bout it, though? Not to sound the way I'm about to, but he is a goblin. Could be he just takes the glimmer and runs."
Stump's chest tightened. He steadied himself against the wall and frowned, but not out of sadness. After all, he couldn't be disappointed when someone said out loud what everyone was already thinking.
"And you're a taurean," countered Reema. "But pa gave you a chance, didn't he?"
Jin's shadow lowered its head. "Aye, he did," he said sadly. "Sorry, Reem. I just worry about ya, is all."
Her shadow embraced his. "I know, dear," she whispered. "He needed it, just like you did."
Warmth swirled up the steps like a summer breeze, embracing Stump too. And suddenly he was with Yeza again, and nothing hurt.
He cracked a smile.
Thanks, Reema.