Well, this is awkward, Yuusha thought, with his arm still extended as a sign not to attack the human farmers. In front of him stood a mountain of teeth, steel and muscle, weighing no less than two hundred kilos.

“You protect tiny human? Why?” Sizarbob asked with his weapon still raised in the air.

Why indeed? Yuusha asked himself the same question as the realization of his current predicament dawned on him. Dear God, what was I thinking!? How the hell am I supposed to explain this and keep everyone alive? That I wanted to kill them myself? Why would I stain my hands? And if I did do that then what was even the point of trying to save them?

“Human not tasty enough,” Sizarbob said, still frozen in place holding his weapon above his head, ready to strike.

I'm guessing you won't get tired of holding that thing any time soon? Yuusha wondered rhetorically.

“And human bad slave. Weak, make trouble, try escapes, other human try save. Not good trouble.”

Great! So, to these goblins, humans are terrible slaves, bottom-tier food source- Chickens! They fight over who gets to eat chickens! So, for goblins, it must a delicacy or something. Then it’s easy! I just explain to Sizarbob, that these farmers can just keep raising chicken for the goblins in exchange for their lives!

Yuusha’s heart sunk again when he remembered that he pretended to be mute.

Reveal that I was pretending to be mute just to solve this mess? But then I’d have to deal with another one. How could I have known back then that I’d learn their language so quickly? No, no way! Right now I still understand only half of what they’re saying. And even if eventually, I learn the goblin language completely - understanding it, and speaking it is completely different. And if I tried, I would probably have the most atrocious accent ever, so I would have to figure out an explanation for that also. Lies upon lies upon lies! At some point, even the most brainless goblin in this godforsaken world would call bullshit on me.

Wait! I could write to them what I want to say! Then I still wouldn’t have to actually speak, but would solve my communication issue, get out of this mess and keep my relationship with the goblins intact all in one move! Perfect-

No, Stupid! What are the chances of these muscle-heads knowing how to read or write? And if they did, they would have asked me to do that in the first place-

But that symbol on their banners-

Probably a mark of their leader or a clan sigil or something. And judging by how poorly it was painted, there’s no guarantee they even drew it properly-

Fuck, stop arguing with yourself-

Ah, that’s it! I don’t need to write! Yuusha thought. If this was a cartoon, a light bulb would turn itself on right above Yuusha's head. He signaled the hobgoblin to give him a moment. I need to act fast before his confusion turns to displeasure.

Yuusha looked around for some sort of paper and ink. And then it dawned on him. Shit! Who said these farmers are literate? Why would they have ink or paper? Does paper exist in this world? How much would ink cost-

Fuck, shut up! Whatever, it doesn’t matter! Even everyone in this universe is illiterate - they will still understand pictures! I just need to find something to draw with, anything! And I’m not using blood!

Yuusha walked around the room, slowly, in order to not give away his anxiety. I need to appear calm, in control, Yuusha thought to himself while his eyes analyzed the room. BREAD! Yuusha smelled It before he saw it. The brown, shaped mass might not have looked as impressive as the one Yuusha used to buy at the store, but the smell was undeniable – it was edible! The hungry young lad salivated at the thought- No! Later! Concentrate! I need some chalk or- Coal! Smoke! Fireplace!

Yuusha looked around and saw what he was looking for, sort of. It wasn’t even close to a fireplace he had imagined. It was hardly anything more than a stone slab, with a pot on it. And the fire wasn’t burning. The smoke we saw when we approached must’ve been from burning gathered weeds or something-

Whatever, it doesn't matter, the idea still counts! Yuusha thought as he knelt and reached to the blackest part of the hearth, felt up a small piece and pulled it out. Yuusha smiled – his hand was already black.

Alright, paper wouldn’t work anyway, Yuusha went up to the clay wall with the most empty space to work with and signaled everyone in the room to come closer. Making sure he had their attention Yuusha began to draw:

First. A square and triangle for a house, and three stick figures - two taller ones, one shorter. With six circles next to them with stick legs and smaller circles for heads.

Second. Same drawing with stick goblins now holding four chickens and the little human figure by the hand. Two stick figures are left with two chickens.

Third – Goblins come again with the small figure at their side and there are many, many chickens. Goblins take chickens.

Fourth drawing – Goblins come again and there are no figures at the house. The small figure with the goblin loses its head.

Yuusha turned around and looked at the family, then at the hobgoblin. Have them grow more chickens for you! Yuusha repeated the plan in his mind, hoping Sizarbob gets it, and then pointed at the girl. The father pulled her closer to himself, holding her tightly. Oh yeah - he gets it, Yuusha thought.

Sizarbob turned to the man, grabbed the girl and showed her father away, sending him flying backward for the second time today. This time across the room and into the furniture.

Looks like Sizarbob understands also, Yuusha thought with a self-congratulatory smirk, watching how the hobgoblin walked out of the house, carrying the screaming girl at his side like a bag of groceries. He held the girl by the back of her dress, where the girl could not reach, leaving her hanging with her face to the ground. All she could do was fruitlessly hit and kick Sizarbob’s right leg, which had the effect of a fly hitting an elephant.

Yuusha looked to the side. The couple was on the floor. They were sobbing, cuddling, trying to comfort one another. Oh, stop your crying! I risked my life for you! You should be thanking me. Yuusha wished he could say that to the couple, but even if he did, they wouldn’t understand him anyway. At least both you and your daughter are still alive! Thanks to me! Yuusha praised himself, already eying his prize – a loaf of bread on the table. Reward for the innocent lives he saved? Or spoils of a first successful raid? He took the bread and sank his teeth into it.