A frightened goblin woke me up in the morning. His face was as pale as a sheet of paper.

“I am sorry Murder Chief.”

“What happened?”

“O- orcs.”

Orcs? The name rings a bell. For some reason I cannot remember what those are, though.

“What?”

“There are orcs nearby.”

He was speaking more coherently, surely. But I did not have the time to be surprised. I was sure at this point that the presence of orcs radiated with danger in the goblin’s eyes. Were we being attacked? I went out to see the situation.

Gobi greeted me at the cave entrance with 20 goblins. All of them were armed with spears and some of them were also carrying stones – which, I also believe was meant to be used as a weapon. These orcs must be enemies, I supposed.

“Chief, my deepest apologies. We lost a group of 4 to an orc attack. There must be an orc camp nearby. They usually patrol the camp surroundings alone. If we can catch one, we should be able to learn where their camp is and how many orcs they have.”

“Are 20 goblins not too many for a single orc?”

“No, Chief. It is hardly enough.”

“You can take more goblins if you wish.”

“We need to stealthily approach the orc to subdue it and we are going to try and kill it if we fail. This is already a stretch. More than 20 goblins will surely attract an orc’s attention.”

“I understand. Take all the equipment you need. You can leave whenever you see fit.”

“Yes, Chief.”

“Gobi.”

“Yes, Chief?”

“Do not die.”

A surprised expression covered Gobi’s face as if he was not expecting me to command him not to die. He nodded instead of vocalizing his answer.

After Gobi’s group left, I wanted to try and talk to some of the goblins. I learned couple of their names yesterday. Gobu was directing the tool making group. I found him to have a quick chat.

My suspicions were correct – goblins did start to have a coherent speech. I did not know the reason why, nor did they seem to know it. Maybe it was that they grew in the time they spent here. Maybe Gobi’s evolution changed something for them. What I did not understand, however, was that Gobi’s speech became more coherent when he evolved, while all the other goblins were still short, green, and goblin-looking just like when they first came in through the gate I opened. Could it really be that Gobi’s evolution triggered something? There was no way I could know. I had a question however: will the next batch be able to speak fluently and coherently? If the answer is yes, maybe the sudden change in goblins’ speech had something to do with my magic rather than evolution. If that is so, I could assume that goblins’ evolution and my magic had different paths, both of which make the speech better. If no, then I could assume it was something more like aging.

As I opened the gate in front of the entry to the cave, I had these thoughts in my head. And, as usual, I opened the gate pouring my magic into it. Once again, I felt the container of my magic expand – this time a bit more than usual that it almost felt like a pain stabbing my heart for a short moment. The pain was momentous and left no traces as it faded, but it was intense. Its intensity was indicating its permanent effect on my magic was noticeable only by me. Pain was not there anymore after that moment, but surely something changed.

About 60 goblins came in from the gate. I ordered some goblins to try and enter the gate, but the gate did not let them in. It was as if the gate only allowed goblins to come to our world from the other side. It was an entry into this world and only worked one-way. I was once again mentally exhausted as if all my energy was sucked in by the vanishing gate. One goblin stepped up to speak.

“Master, we are at your service.”

He was a bit taller than the rest and had jet black hair. He bowed as he uttered these words.

My suspicions were correct, I thought. Even this was a sentence a goblin could hardly ever make. Maybe it was true that the reason for the improvement of coherency and fluency in the goblins’ speech was my magic. But then, what was the reason for evolution? Was it only the killing of a deer?

“Please do not call me master. My name is Murder. You can call me by that.”

“Chief Murder. As you wish.”

These goblins really want to call me by a title huh. Doesn’t hurt, I suppose.

“Those of you who wish to craft tools and weapons, follow Gobu. Those of you who want to help with building houses and logging, grab axes from over there and join the logging and construction groups. Those of you who want to gather food for and animals, wait here after you grab spears from the tool makers. You – what is your name?”

“My name is Gobo Chief.”

“Do you remember where you come from?”

“No Chief.”

“Do you remember what you were doing before coming here?”

“No Chief. I only know that I was a shaman.”

“Shaman?”

“Yes Chief. I practiced shaman magic though weak.”

“What is shaman magic exactly?”

“It is the magic practiced by us goblins and some related species. It is considered dark magic.”

“You are the only goblin who said he can practice magic so far.”

“That is understandable Chief. Practice of magic is not commonplace – at least for goblins.”

“I see. Can you teach me?”

“That would be my pleasure.”

Gobo bowed and made a polite hand gesture. He was the tallest goblin in the group and was also one of the skinniest. When he bowed, he looked like a bent stick.

Maybe I should start calling this a tribe rather than a group. We had more than 150 members and we are growing fast. Normally, this would be called a town, but we do not have enough houses. Also, these goblins keep calling me chief and we are very primitive. “Tribe” sounds more fitting for now.