Eric watched from a hilltop outside the castle walls, as browns passed through a portal. Its wavering glow cast shades of beryl over the courtyard walls, like an emerald reflection of water. The first rays of morning sun were stretching across his back, lit the drops of frozen moisture on his metal in orange bursts. He’d ordered the goblins out surveying to return, so they could decide if they wanted to go home or continue.

Honor and house were important to goblins, as Griz had said but less so to those who were made for manual labor. Browns were just a step above grays. Their esteem and familial ties, by nature, were not as strong. They took pride in their work, not in those they worked for. All of the others had chosen to stay. To return home meant admitting failure. Continuing the expedition, charter or no, at least offered the hope of redemption and regaining favor with their respective houses.

All but twelve browns had decided to leave. Two were master craftsmen, and five were many years on their way toward the same goal. Mudbutt stood proud among the five remaining fighters.

It was a terrible blow to their morale, losing so many skilled workers. They could still function, survey and find new mines, produce arms and armor, but their odds of success had been greatly diminished.

Griz ordered a new team back out and headed over to join Eric. Barely a dozen remained in the castle, a few reds, oranges and greens. They could keep watch, guard the gates, but it was up to Eric to maintain their hold of it.

If Sebran attacks, I’m on my own.

Eric would have rather some of the others had left, instead of the browns. He needed workers more than fighters. Without them to find mines, extract minerals and ores, they had no hope of making new goblins. As much as he wanted a weapon and shield from his next changes, Eric thought the ability to wield magic, to help Griz expand their army, would be much more useful.

I dunno if it’s even possible.

“Explain magic to me,” Eric said, as the shaman sat down beside him. “Like, what is it? How does it work? How come some people can use it but others can’t? Is it an intelligence thing or like some innate ability thing?”

“That’s quite a large topic, master,” Griz said, as if surprised by the sudden interest, “one that usually takes many years to fully grasp.”

“E-ligh five it for me. Gimme the wiki version.”

“Alright, master, I shall do my best.” He took a brief minute to compose his thoughts and explained, “Magic is a force of nature most like gravity or magnetism. It is inherent to a place, in its ley lines, though I cannot say what determines its strength. The magic here on Taellus is strong, when compared to say Inexium, but pales in comparison to Xanaranth. Some have theorized this has to do with the number of ley lines present, their direction of flow and density –”

Eric cleared his throat.

“Apologies, master. To wield magic is to channel, by way of a focus. The basest of users employ cumbersome foci, like exhaustive rituals and complex casting, while the most skilled seem to use no focus at all. They’re able to use their minds and body to channel and direct.”

“Magic can also be stored,” Griz went on, “within an item or enchantment. Do you know what a rune is, master?”

“Err, yeah, like a letter.”

“Precisely, master, although in this case the letter of a magical language.” Griz used his staff to draw in air, and where he wrote, golden runes appeared and hung in place. “Runes are individual letters. Sigils represent concepts. Both can be used to create a ward, a simple spell.” He kept scrawling golden runes with his staff, as if writing out a sentence in a foreign language. “Wards can be joined to create a glyph, a complex spell. The more wards a glyph contains, the more complicated the spell. Glyphs can be worked together to create a construct, an interlocking system, but it is incredibly difficult, requires countless hours of planning and preparation and a great number of skilled users working in tandem.”

When Griz finished the last rune, they all flared to life as one and faded into golden mist. Below the spell, where its magic rained down, a stem sprouted from the mud about an inch. Two small leaves grew out from its middle, like the promise of spring.

“You can create life,” Eric mused. The little sprout wouldn’t survive winter, but the notion stuck with him. “Can anyone do it?”

“I wish I could say yes, master,” Griz replied sadly, “but it has been my experience that is not so. It has little to do with desire or practice, as far as I’ve observed. Some are simply born to it. Discipline, desire, practice all determine how well one does it, not whether one is able.”

If his golem body could one day be human then why would using magic be any different?

“If I spend a transformation,” Eric asked, “or however many it takes, do you think I could use magic?”

Griz considered his answer as if he saw beyond it, to what Eric truly wanted.

“Anything is possible, master, but it would take a great deal of practice and study to help me with the ritual.” He appraised Eric with his good eye. “That is why you asked, because you wish to create more goblins?”

Eric nodded.

He’d been thinking of those that left. Their loyalty wasn’t to him or even their expedition. But if he could make his own goblins…

“Why were you and the others so quick to follow me?” Eric asked. “Aside from the fear of dyin’ and all. Why stay? Or why not just take off on your own? Why continue to serve me?”

“Survival is a factor, master,” Griz admitted with a chuckle, “but we all serve, one way or another. It is the single most important tenet goblin society is based on.”

“What about your leaders? There’s always someone at the top, even if it’s a council or whatever. At some point, there’s a dude who doesn’t answer to anyone.”

Griz said, “Even those at the highest level, master, who make the most important decisions, ideally serve the people. As I said earlier, the expedition is still underway. It’s simply under new leadership. Either way, we’re still serving society.”

Eric got to his feet. Even though it hadn’t been long since Sebran agreed to help, he was getting restless. He didn’t want to sit around waiting. His hunger had been reduced to little more than an imagined grumbling, but acquiring essence to fuel more changes was his highest priority.

I feel the need for xp.

His vision wandered south toward the ruined castle he was summoned in. If there was a forest full of trolls beyond it, he could potentially get to work. He neither needed nor wanted to risk what remained of his army. It was better they gathered resources and watched over their new castle, rather than follow him toward their possible deaths.

Nah, I got this.

Eric headed toward the ruined castle.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” he told Griz. “Don’t wait up.”