They returned by nightfall to the orange glow and fading crackle of dying flames outside the castle. The goblins had made a bonfire and gathered around it for warmth. To Eric’s surprise, there were reds standing guard and greens out scouting for intruders or any sign of remaining undead. They’d secured the castle, searched every inch of it and were ready to close the gates once the meat was all cooked. Apparently greens were made to be hunters, skilled at tracking and trapping. A handful had set out and brought back wyvern for all to eat. They dressed the corpses in the field, carried back all the meat and hide they could. They’d go back for the bones later. Rooms had been assigned, for sleeping, crafting, cooking and spoils.

“The upper levels are yours, master,” Bel said. It was difficult walking up the stone stairs but not impossible. Eric was getting more and more used to his new size. “We only assigned what space was needed. It won’t be long before the humans realize Tragona and his forces are gone.”

Bitters snorted. “Master, send me and my gobs. We can sneak into Sebran’s castle, tonight. By morning, any one resembling a leader will be dead, and all their food and water poisoned.”

It seemed oranges were assassins.

“Yes,” Bel said and sniggered. “Picking off the rest will be easy. A few carefully placed fires, funnel them toward master…”

The other generals joined in the laugh.

Now they even sound like gremlins. Eric rubbed at his head. He didn’t care about the mechanics of having a headache, only knew that he felt throbbing behind the glow of his eyes. What would I do if this was a game? Assess resources, strengths and weaknesses, figure out what’s coming next and plan to deal with it best I can. Hope for the best, plan for the worst; hope was a sucker’s bet.

“Once that meat’s done cooking,” Eric told them, “I want the fire out. Close and lock the gates. Post guards in the courtyard, along the walls and inside the castle, just in case. Keep scouts on the lookout, especially from the east. Sebran will be coming. Rotate people as best you can, so no one falls asleep when they shouldn’t.” He considered barking at them to go, when none of them moved to immediately follow his orders. Instead, he said, “You guys did a good job while I was gone. Keep it up. Dismissed.”

They looked to one another, gave nods or bows and left downstairs. Griz remained behind. Nothing was left in the long hallway but torn paintings and falling purple drapes over the windows at the far end. The bedroom doors were all open, the furniture dragged outside to be burned.

“There’s probably books, tools, instruments, potions and who knows what else a lich might hoard. Find them,” Eric told him. “Use what you can to help us, throw away the rest. We have two goals from now on: make me human again, one way or another, and get the resources needed to satisfy your mission here. Send your people a message. We took a castle, suffered losses, and now we need reinforcements. Tell them whatever you think will convince them to help. You can stay up here with me. I think it’s best you stay by my side as much as possible.” He didn’t say it out loud, but the intimation was that everyone else was more or less expendable. The shaman nodded and turned to leave when Eric said, “Hold on. Tell me about goblins and their colors. It’s not random, right? Each type is made for a specific purpose.”

“That is true, master,” Griz said, “and very perceptive of you to notice. The most common, grays, are not very intelligent. They’re easier to make in large numbers and are used for menial labor. Some do specialize, though, in mining and sapping. It takes a long time to train them, but no one else is willing to work with explosives. Reds are our soldiers and guards, disciplined by nature and trained to work in units. Blues tend toward a solitary life. Their particular disposition makes them ideal as duelists and gladiators, combatants for sport and glory. Oranges are assassins and spies, tricksters of a sort that thrive in times of pressure. Given enough time to prepare, they can render an enemy indisposed without lifting a sword. Greens are our hunters and scouts, with keen eyes and a head for the outdoors. They make excellent trackers, and some specialize as animal handlers. Unfortunately, we have none of those with us.

“Browns, like myself, are nearly as abundant as grays, though with quite a bit more brain than brawn. That being said, browns who favor violence end up as brawlers or mercenaries. Most, however, are made to be craftsmen. Any caste can become a skilled worker, any sort of smith, armorer, woodworker, and the like, even a shaman, though the chances of that are very low. Only one in a thousand ends up with the temperament and acuity to work magic. It is extremely difficult to form a goblin with the intent of fashioning a shaman.

“There are other castes on Xanaranth, some not even limited to one color, but none of those are with us. I assume you’re asking to take a measure of our remaining forces.”

“Yeah. Interesting,” Eric said. Wheels were already turning in his mind. “What does it take to make a goblin? If we need to cut ties, could we make our own?”

“Possibly, master.” Griz looked off in the distance, as if considering how it might be done. “Normally, it would take the concerted effort of many shamans to work the magic. That might not be an issue with access to a proper nexus. The truly limiting factors are the rare stones and metals.” He hesitated to add, “Plus we would need to sacrifice… people.”

Eric groaned.

“The more people,” Griz said, “the better outcome. You can fashion a dozen grays from a single human, but…”

“You get what you pay for.”

“Yes!” the shaman said, “Exactly that, master.”

This place is determined to make me a murderer. Even if I don’t do it myself, anyone they kill is on me. They’re following my orders – for now, anyway. I don’t doubt for a second they’d turn on me if they could. None of them can be trusted. Not even Griz. The only thing I can trust is that they’ll work out of self-interest. As soon as I start wanting things they don’t, I may have to take a more drastic approach to leadership.

“Alright,” Eric said. “Go send a message back to your people. Take a closer look around the place for anything useful. Then rest. You look like shit.” The shaman bowed his head and turned for the stairs. “Griz. I kind of like you. I definitely need you. But I’m not above saying ‘fuck it’ and killing everyone. I know things didn’t turn out the way you planned… just, don’t fuck me.”

Griz looked up into the red glow of Eric’s eyes. He spent a long moment in quiet thought, and when he finally spoke, there was none of that pandering bullshit in his tone.

“You have my word.”