Eric helped carry anvils and weapon bundles back through a portal, but the massive forges would have to be remade. The crafters began setting up a temporary workspace for smelting and forging. The castle was built on two ley lines, which was serviceable for most tasks. Crafting masterwork weapons would require scouting a new location, a proper nexus of ley lines to draw magic from. They’d also need to find new sources of raw ore. A search for deposits could take time and require most of their forces. While it was true the goblins were no longer forced to forge weapons and armor for the demon army, their own was still underequipped.

Plus we’ll need those ores and minerals to make new goblins at some point, Eric realized when he approved the order to begin surveying. Luckily some of the craftsmen had experience and knew what to look for. That’ll be nearly half the browns out looking, with a good chunk of reds and blues to keep them alive. Even more once they start digging. His little army was dwindling, not that he relied on any of them near as much as Griz. Can I even trust them to come back?

“Something amiss, master?” Griz was coordinating browns and where to put the last bits from the foundry. There were still quite a few tools, die casts, mounds of uncured hides and numerous other things the goblins could carry on their own. Griz had taken charge and was directing them all. “You seem quiet.”

They stood by the open gates, where Eric’s focus was on the east. He didn’t know when or if Sebran was going to return or even if the lord was coming to help him or attack. He felt like an idiot for hoping.

“Just thinking,” Eric said. Midday had already come and gone. Winter sun was setting between the clouds, just over the mountains behind him. “Can we trust that Lord Sebran guy?”

“Of course not, master,” Griz said without hesitation. “He’s human. Always in a hurry to die, as if they don’t already live short enough lives, and they care little for anyone or anything but themselves.”

Fair enough.

“You know I’m human, right?” He was more amused than annoyed.

The shaman wiped his brow with a sleeve of his dirty robe. “I thought you would prefer honesty, master.”

“I do,” Eric said, “as long as it isn’t too insulting. I just never took you for a racist.”

“My opinions are based on experience, master,” Griz said, “not the other way around. I don’t think any less of humans for their behavior, or we would never use them in our golems. I’m simply aware of their behavior and act accordingly.”

There are other golems?

A reverse whirring filled the air and ended abruptly with what looked like the face of a mirror folding in on itself. From the split in space, a goblin in white and gold silk clothing appeared as if he’d been standing there all along. He wore breeches, a tunic, a vest, short leather boots and a piece over his shoulder like a mini-cape. He wore gold-rimmed glasses over his wide, thick nose and carried a white walking stick topped with a large gold encrusted crystal. He wore a number of gold rings in a row on his long, tapered ears. More unusual than his ensemble was his caste.

The goblin was white.

From his skin to long hair tied back into a knot, his eyebrows to pointed teeth, he was a varied palette of snowy white. Even his eyes seemed to have a pale glow in the fading light of day.

“Grizzletongue!” he called out and began assessing the gathered goblins in the courtyard with a raised brow.

“Auditor Blanchbottom,” Griz said to the new goblin with a bow of his head in respect. He walked over to stand before him. “I am glad to see you well. How are things at the conservatory?”

Blanchbottom? The guy’s name is literally white ass? Eric fought back the urge to laugh. He wasn’t sure if this was like the situation with the seeker, where it would be better if he pretended to be an actual golem. Figures it’d be a white guy in charge, he joked to himself. I wonder what they’re made for and why we don’t have any.

“As well as can be expected.” Blanch seemed like one of those office types, polite but impatient. “If we could skip the pleasantries, I have seven more of these yet to do today.”

“Of course. You received my report –”

“What are they doing?” Blanch asked, tilting his head down to look over his glasses at the browns carrying material past. With a flick of his wrist, his walking stick became a scroll, which he opened and perused. “These items, that portal… what happened to the foundry?”

Griz faltered for a moment before explaining, “It is no longer safe there for us. I’m afraid our agreement with the demons is no longer tenable.”

The auditor gave Griz his full attention.

“Why not?”

“They tried to take our golem,” Griz said truthfully. “With all we’ve given them and continue to give, I saw this as going beyond the bounds of our agreement.”

Blanch checked whatever was written on his ledger and eyeballed Eric.

“Take it back,” the white said. “Make the deal.”

Griz shook his head. “It is too late for more dealing. I’m afraid we’ve… collapsed that particular passage.”

“Unacceptable.” He pointed a long nail at a list for Griz to see. “This expedition is now operating at a deficit. The benefits of our accord with Karron’s army cannot be offset by the cost of this golem. Even if your conquest is unsuccessful, the resources gained by that pact are enough to recoup our initial investment and make staying here profitable.”

Ahh. So the whites are some sort of bankers or accountants or something. Useless.

Eric stepped forward and looked down at the goblin in his pristine outfit. “We’re not goin’ back,” he said with finality. “And you might as well be talkin’ to me. I’m in charge.”

The scroll snapped back into a walking stick, and Blanch backed away.

“What is this?” His tone had decidedly changed. With genuine fear, he asked Griz, “What have you done?”

How did he get here? Eric wondered. Was it a spell or that walking stick? He hadn’t created a portal, like the way Griz travelled to Inexium and back. If I take the stick from him, can I use to go to Xana-whatevers?

Griz tried to explain. “There must have been some sort of mishap with the summoning. The spirit we bound remained conscious, in control.”

“Control!” Blanch’s eyes were wide, and he continued to back away. “You’ve lost control of this expedition!”

The shaman’s voice remained calm. “The expedition is still on track. It’s just… under new leadership. I asked for reinforcements, because I believe we can still conquer this realm and beyond. Eric needs its resources as much as we do.”

Blanch frowned and stopped moving, as if he’d found his backbone.

“You gave it a name?” One of his eyes twitched, like he was about to pop his cork. “You’re taking orders from a human!”

Eric laughed.

“Please, master,” Griz said. “You’re not making this any easier.”

Blanch took firm hold of his walking stick and tapped it against the ground, like a judge banging a gavel.

“Your charter is hereby revoked! You are to cease all activity and return to Xanaranth at once. I will give my final report to the council immediately.” He leveled a grave look toward the shaman. “If you still honor your house, I will see you at the next Gathering.”

With that, he disappeared into a folding of space.

Has to be the stick.

“That went well,” Eric said. “What’s the Gathering?”

Griz took in a deep breath and let it out. The whole encounter obviously hadn’t gone the way he hoped.

“It is a time, master, when all heads of house come together before the council to discuss laws, agreements and any grievances. This occurs every second full moon, which for Taellus is twice a month – or roughly every other week.”

There was something to his voice as he spoke, a hint of sadness or regret. From what the white had said, if Griz didn’t show at this next Gathering, there would be repercussions. It sounded as if he, too, would never see his family again.

“You gonna go?”

Griz had been lost in thought, looked up from his reverie in confusion.

“You would allow me?”

He didn’t say ‘master.’ Does that mean something?

“Sounds important,” Eric said.

Griz looked around at the other goblins. They kept working, even though there was no doubt they’d just heard they were all fired. He looked proud, not of himself but of those he led, those who chose to follow him.

“House is very important to a goblin, master,” Griz said wistfully, “as much as blood relations to a human. I believe in this expedition, in you, master. I know we can conquer Faradim and all the realms beyond. We can get you what you need and fulfill our charter in the process. But if I go to the next Gathering,” he said and let the thought hang.

“They won’t let you come back.” Eric gave it some thought, his army of level ones and his epic quest to regain humanity. “I’ll tell you what. Give everyone the opportunity to go home. Send them back if they really want to. I’m gonna keep going. I don’t have any other choice.

“At least this way you guys do.”