It took less than an hour before the small band of goblins burst from the foliage and into the small clearing before the cave. There were indeed eight of them, each as tall as a twelve-year old child with a fair bit of fat to their stomachs and coming in a myriad of colors from a rust red to a lichen green. Typical depictions of goblins had them bald, but these ones were sporting a diverse range of hairstyles, some were even braided or had sticks arranged in what were clearly meant as fashion accessories. They were definitely not cute, and he had no issue admitting that they were ugly, but they were also less monstrous and disheveled then he had expected.

  The goblins were also in a poor mood, Leon noticed. The lack of loot on their shoulders suggested that the mood was from their lack of success in the day’s hunt, and they growled darkly as they returned home. Upon seeing Leon, however, they all froze. Noting the three that reached for weapons, he assumed they were the leaders, or at least most capable. Those he would deal with first. Internally, he sighed as he remembered that he would need to at least try and talk them down for his own appearances with the unranked hiding in the forest.

  “Goblins, your ambushing of the hunters of this forest has gone on too long. Surrender now and I shall allow you to leave these woods on the promise you shall never return.” He lifted his greatsword with one hand and pointed it towards them in what he hoped was a clear show of strength.

  The goblins seemed confused at his words; in their eyes, he thought he saw something of a spark of recognition, of knowledge. They chittered amongst themselves, and he wondered if they were speaking. Tomes on the subject did speak of goblins' ability to communicate amongst one another, but it was always framed in a rudimentary fashion. Less akin to a complex language and more so an ability to express basic notions, basic combat instructions, proclamations of chieftains, orders to pay loot in tribute.

  Thinking of it now, those would all require a more nuanced understanding of language than suggested. He did not think there was anyone who had done a proper in-depth exploration of goblin culture.

  Looking at the goblins again, it seemed they were having some sort of conversation, it was a worrying thought. If they were planning how to attack him, he was wasting valuable time letting them talk. If they had understood him, though? Could it be that they were considering his ultimatum?

  Idle thoughts were cut off as they turned back to him with confused expressions. He wondered if the cultural fogginess went both ways. To goblins, humans were likely always hostile; being raiders meant that any target was hostile, but even should they act peacefully, any approaching human would still attack them on sight.

  Leon eyed them cautiously before letting his sword drop slightly and warily raised his hand to point at them. He then held up a single finger before pointing at himself and gently swinging his sword. It was a crude way to ask for a duel, but with the language barrier, he figured it was the only way he could.

  He was shocked when they chittered among themselves again and one walked up to stand against him. They had actually understood his intention. In what Leon felt would be the strangest moment of his life, he gave the goblin a respectful nod of his head before raising his sword. The goblin reciprocated the gesture and raised its own weapon in kind.

  It eyed him with a sharp gaze but did not make to attack. Undoubtedly, it understood its disadvantage and was preparing to fight defensively. They really were surprisingly intelligent, he felt, but they were still monsters. If his gambit worked and they surrendered once he won this duel, he would allow them to leave the forest. Never would he have imagined that he would have the inclination to treat goblins with honor, but they had acquitted themselves well before him so far.

  Thinking about it, it was unsurprising that they would understand what a duel was. He doubted they knew the meaning of human honor, but they were a strength-based society. Duels were likely fairly common among them to establish hierarchy. With that being the case, there was little to fear with one of the others interfering. Whether that be out of a sense of honor or because it was a cultural faux pas mattered little.

  Leon stopped his mind from wandering any further and charged the goblin. It jumped back from his initial swings as its fellows fanned out to allow them more space and form a small arena for the duelists. The goblin’s attempts at making distance would only prolong the fight, not that it would matter anyhow. His legs gave him a speed advantage, and he readied to strike the brave goblin down.

  It was with a sickening squelch that he felt something pierce into the side of his right knee. It was only his honed reflexes and strength that allowed him to redirect his sword into a curved arc as he swung to his left, knocking another spear away and dismembering the arm of the second goblin attempting to stab him. It fell back with a pained squeal as the other six all decided to take the opportunity to rush in and attack him.

  Behind him, blood gushed from his right knee, covering the leg and coating the spear. This was the first time in his life that he had been bloodied, the first time he had felt pain such as he did now. It was his life spilling onto the forest floor, his life that caused the goblins to grackle as if they were little demons. Panic seeped into his heart as the true reality of the situation finally revealed itself to him.

  “HELP.”

  His yell was met with deafening silence as he swung his sword again to fend off the goblin with a spear in his leg while using his good leg to jump away from those on his left. They had surrounded him in a trap, and he had walked right into it after dismissing their intelligence. It was not only dangerously naive but stupid above all.

  “GODS DAMN YOU, GET OUT HERE AND HELP ME!”

  Again no one emerged to assist him. Had they been ambushed before the battle had even begun? Had the goblins managed to overwhelm them in surprise so efficiently that they had not even been able to make a sound?

  Slowly, Leon broke the encirclement by fending them off with his greatsword's wide swings. Once his back was to the cave and all the goblins were gathered before him, he took the chance to spare a glance for their weapons, not a single one was bloody. His teammates had abandoned him.

  He was going to die here.

  Panic that had once snuck into his heart now crashed over him as a great wave to overtake him. With one leg effectively useless with a spear sticking out of it, he would be unable to retreat. He had removed one goblin’s arm, but even that one had stood back up and gripped the spear it had tried to stab his leg with in the other hand, eying him with murderous intent.

  There was simply no way that he could win this; they were going to kill him here and take his gear as trophies. The legend of Leon D’Allel would not end with a roar or even so much as a whimper, but rather a brief wink as if he had never existed at all.

  As two charged and the rest tried to circle around him again, it was purely instinct that kept him alive. He swung for the two in front of him and they backed off, allowing him to swing at those trying to circle on his right and keep at least his weak side free of danger.

  As he took a deep breath to calm himself, they formed a semi-circle on his left. His breathing did little to soothe his pounding heart, but it did help still his mind. The goblins were trying to use their numbers to overwhelm him and were counting on him trying to hold them off like a wounded animal, slowly bleeding him until he could no longer stand. If they had managed to spear his other knee, he would no doubt be unable to stand and be killed immediately.

  Across from him, he recognized the goblins chittering, likely forming a strategy since surrounding him was no longer working. If he let them control the tempo of the fight, he was finished. Despite knowing that, he could not force himself to attack. Instead, he stood paralyzed in fear.

  He did not want to die. If this was some grand battle deciding the fate of the kingdom or an epic fight against a force of pure evil, it might have been different. But these were mere goblins, the lowest of the lowly monsters.

  As a knight, he was always ready to die so long as it was in the pursuit of a glorious death for a greater cause. The chance to become a martyr, to leave his name on the annals of history as one who had given everything he had and paid the ultimate price as a result.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  No, those were just excuses. In truth, he would not have wanted to die then either. Standing here and now, he was faced with death for the first time. The idea that he might stand proudly when confronted with Death’s gruesome visage was laughable. Past his idle fears, he could see the goblins form into two distinct lines across from him, the four in the back drawing out bows while the front held their weapons forward menacingly to ward him off. The grim reaper seemed to tower behind them, a dread general here to see to his death.

  Instinct readied his weapon. Indeed, instinct had been the only reason he had survived thus far. Even now, a treasonous part of him questioned what the point of struggling was, death's embrace was already a foregone conclusion. The light of the setting sun glinting off his blade blinded him.

  It was that which allowed him to collect himself.

  The twang of bowstrings alerted him to the goblins' shots, and he moved. Foolhardy ideas had run amok in his head, ideas utterly unbecoming of a noble. It was so simple, two choices had been laid before him: to live or to die. And he had already made up his mind on death.

  Pushing off with his left leg, he charged the goblins as the arrows struck behind him. Not wasting the effort to turn, he did not get to see how true their aim was—it would not matter anyhow. The four goblins up front bristled their spear tips at him, ensuring that they were aimed low for his legs rather than try for his steel-clad chest. Once again, they showcased their surprising intelligence, but this time, he would not falter.

  As he entered their range, the spears jabbed towards him, and he brought his sword low to block the spears for his left leg. Twisting on his right leg so only one spear found its mark, he felt it embed right below the knee. He withstood it with a pained grimace, but refused to let it bring him down. His right leg was almost useless anyway, and if he must sacrifice it to get on top of the goblins, so be it. Throwing himself into the line, he swung at the goblin’s torso, hoping to cut the entire first line in half.

  The two edges of the formation managed to jump away from his attack but their center was not quite so fortunate. As the strength in his arms cut the first goblin he struck in twain, the second quickly attempted to jump away and avoid being halved. It was a valiant effort, but his sword still managed to cut open its stomach and spew out its innards. That was two down.

  One of the goblins who had evaded his swing had tripped itself and was scrambling to get back on their feet. He pounced at it with his good leg just to feel an arrow embed itself into his left arm right below the shoulder pauldrons. Cursing but refusing to stop, knowing that if he did, he would lose any momentum, he stabbed his sword into the goblin’s chest as it finished pulling itself up. Lifting the body with his sword, he spun around and threw the goblin into one of the archers readying another shot before lunging at a different archer.

  Another arrow whistled at him, but this one only caught the back of his chestplate. The archer he descended upon raised its bow in a desperate defense which he tore through in one overhead swing, cutting the bow and splitting the goblin underneath. Four bodies now littered the field while another one struggled under the weight of its dead friend. The last two archers stowed their bows as he lumbered towards them. On the way, he stabbed down through the dead goblin and into the struggling one, the last three helplessly watching him do so.

  He wondered if they were trying to wait out his stamina or if they were now paralyzed with the same fear he had known less than a minute ago. The thought brought a chuckle to his lips which quickly devolved into an uncontrollably raucous laughter. The sight of the goblins standing there awaiting their own death was pathetic, which meant he had been pathetic too. Did that make the goblins noble, or him monsterly?

  The goblins did not seem as amused by their similarities as he was. They charged him as one, screaming in their strange language what might just have easily been a curse or a strategy. It was unclear if they were trying to replicate his success or were just desperate; he supposed his own success was achieved through desperation itself.

  Unfortunately for them, the goblins lacked the advantages he had that made his desperation so dangerous. Their spears flicked towards him, all still having the presence of mind to jab at his lower body. It did not matter, though; using his good leg, he pushed himself to the side to avoid two of their spears. His right hand clamped down on the spearhead of the last while his left swung his sword into the two who missed. It struck one of them in the head, but lacked the two-handed power to slice through.

  It was still a lethal blow, however. Yanking on the spear in his right hand, he brought the goblin attached flying towards him. With a meaty sound, their heads smashed together, and the little goblin collapsed beneath him, writhing in pain. The last goblin turned in time to see he had let go of his sword in its friend’s head and had taken the spear into his hands. With one mighty thrust, Leon pierced the last goblin through the head, the force of the attack splintering the wooden handle and killing the goblin instantly.

  His entire body protested against him moving any further, but he managed to drag his sword out of the goblin skull it was embedded in and gently place it tip down onto the dazed goblins throat. It was gravity more than anything that gave him the strength to decapitate the last goblin, his hands lacking any proper strength at this point. Gripping his sword in both hands, he tenderly lifted it out of the earth.

  There, he stood victorious, if barely. All Leon wanted in that moment was to lay in his uncomfortable bed and fall into dreams of better times. Dragging his feet towards that goal, he ruminated on the fight.

  It would have been better to jump over the spears than sacrifice my arm and hand. Just another reason to invest in agility, I suppose. It is a shame I have yet to find any good training manuals on the topic, though, likely they are kept secret to give adventurers a competitive advantage. I suppose I shall need to find myself a teacher. Do I know any good agility fighters?

  Finally, he fell face first onto his bed. It was less comfortable than he had remembered, but he was too tired to go and add more straw for the mattress. Feeling his eyes drooping shut, he contemplated his future training.

  I guess I need to meet other adventurers before I can choose a worthy teacher. It should not be too difficult. I can offer my family's strength training regiment in compensation. It will be easy…

  ~

  “Is he dead?” Seren asked hopefully.

  The fake knight was lying face down on the earth, his nose and an eye barely peeking out past the dirt. Bloodied by multiple wounds and eyes tightly closed shut, he was the picture of a dead man. Still, Calen moved over to inspect him closer; the chestplate prevented him from seeing if the fake knight was breathing and no one had taught him how to check a pulse. Instead, he bent his ear close to the man's face and listened.

  “He’s alive,” Calen let out a despondent groan.

  Marlin raised his sword and approached. “Not hard to change that now, is it?”

  Calen snapped his hand around the other man's wrist before he could swing.

  “Are you daft? There’s a difference between letting him die to some goblins and killing him ourselves!”

  It was a shame, the fake knight had such nice gear that would have sold for a much prettier penny then the pittance of a reward that they would receive for the mission. Foul play would be expected almost instantly, however, and wetting their blades with his blood would seal their fates.

  “Couldn’t have just died, could you? My ma’s sick and you’re out here acting all high and mighty without a care in the world.” He kicked the unconscious body ruefully. It felt nice, so he kicked it again before an idea came to mind.

  “He ain’t going anywhere anytime soon, though.” The other two men looked to him with curious eyes before he continued. “It was an awfully hectic fight—eight on four ain’t great odds. The knight was truly brave to distract five of them so that we could have a more even fight, but we're still unranked and goblins ain’t pushovers. We lost ground, and by the time we made it back, the knight was nowhere to be seen.”

  He gave them fake innocent smile to sell the idea. Poor Seren still seemed a tad confused, but Marlin’s face quickly twisted to glee.

  “Who’s to say how his fight against five goblins at once went? We searched for hours, but it was already close to dusk when we found the goblins. We figured it would be too dark to search any longer.” Marlin’s innocent voice was ruined by the malicious smile painted upon his face.

  Calen nodded along. “After not seeing him for a day or two, we decided to go back out to find him. We don’t know if it were the goblins that did him in or maybe a bear came by while he was asleep.” He grabbed some berries from a nearby bush and squashed them against the knight's unconscious face.

  Seren’s eyes lit up as he caught on to their scheme. “Right, and he had us hold onto all the other gear since he wanted to have free movement.”

  Calen knew there was a reason he liked Seren. The man was not the sharpest, but he always contributed good ideas once he understood.

  “Go cut up a goblin each and get ready to move the knight and the others. Collect proof of only three dead goblins, we can grab the other five when we come back. We want them somewhere we can find them, but try not to make it too obvious. I’ll grab the mission letter and supplies then prep him for the wildlife.”

  His companions got to work as he reached his hand down the knight's breastplate where he had seen him stash the mission letter earlier. He felt a pouch with some coin and some old paper a bit more crinkled before he found the wax seal he had been searching for. After a second of consideration on whether to grab the coins, he decided it would look suspicious if the knight were found without them. They would be his in a few days anyhow.

  “I’d apologize, but it is kind of your fault. If you hadn’t been such a right prick, we coulda split it all even and fair. Instead, your face is in the mud.”

  The knight did not respond, and Calen got to work covering him in sweet smelling foods. It had been a long day, but he was sure the payout had been worth it.

  “Sweet dreams, knight, we’ll be seeing you again soon as we can.”