The Mimic Becomes a Merchant King

Illyana did not linger long in Wheat Valley. The life of a low-ranking Guild adventurer did not allow for much in the way of idleness. She needed to regularly take contracts, ensuring she had a stable flow of money to fall back upon.

And, unfortunately, it was also a major component in raising her rank with the Adventurer's Guild. How quickly one raised their rank was dependent on the difficulty of the jobs they took on, and it was tough finding jobs harder than killing goblins or kobolds pilfering crops from isolated farms.

It was as she was considering heading up toward Sentinel, where the contracts were more difficult but also in high demand, that an important message reached the guild hall in Wheat Valley. A town to the southwest of Wheat Valley by the name of Glain, seated near the coast, apparently was being threatened by large crowds of goblins who roamed the exterior of the town in the dead of night. They hissed and chittered, always vanishing before the guards could gather to pursue them.

They had yet to attack, by all accounts, but the people were understandably anxious. The contract stated that the number was considerable, too large for the town guard to deal with, and the nobody was willing to leave the fortifications of the town. It was only by the magic of the local hedge wizard that the contract was sent out to the neighbouring towns.

The contract at Glain promised a high pay, with the prospect for advancement being rather high. Illyana had nearly jumped at the prospect. And, after topping up on supplies, she hitched a ride out west.

The contingent sent out by the Adventurer's Guild had congregated en route to Glain. Two wagons carrying an abundance of armed warriors, and a supply wagon taking up the rear. Illyana had not said much to the people who were to be her companions for the contract, but knew many of them were low-ranking guild members like herself.

There wasn't much in the way of adventuring talent out this way, Illyana knew. Some of the fellows seemed respectable, their gear weathered and seasoned from past exploits. Others were bored youngsters just itching for adventure. So long as they stayed out of her way, she wasn't going to be too bothered by their presence.

"Hey, Knife-ears," a cloaked figure to her right remarked, looking her way. "Don't see many of your kind out this way."

Illyana barely stirred to look at the youthful, freckled face. She kept her eyes on the rolling scenery, the crook of her elbow draping over her claymore's crossguard. "Don't call me that," she bluntly replied.

Ignoring her, the young man snorted and adjusted the brim of his hood. "Woulda' thought you lot spent all your days casting spells inside your fancy crystal palaces. Guess that means even elves can fall on hard times, ain't that right Knife-ea-"

The fingers of her gauntlet clasped around his throat in the blink of an eye, pinning him to the edge of the wagon. Several of the other adventurers recoiled, but the reaction was largely muted among the group. "In my culture, if someone declines a polite request to not do something, it's entirely within your rights to be more forceful to make them compliant."

She turned, now looking him in the eye with a glare that would make steel wilt. "So if you call me 'Knife-Ears' or 'Dagger-Ears', or whatever other terms you have for my species, one more time... I will break your nose." She released her grip, the human coughing and wheezing, stroking his throat.

"Bleak's curse... Some grip you got there. I'm glad though. Means you're an elf who actually knows how to fight."

"Hmph. You'll find many of my kin know how to fight."

His pale eyes roamed to the claymore. "Not many of 'em get their hands dirty."

"Well, I do," Illyana replied. Only partially out of necessity, in her case. Still, while she may not have had the vast potential of her siblings, she took pride in her skill. And she'd cut down more than one arrogant spellcaster who mistakenly thought her to be infirm.

The human grunted, flashing her a wry grin. "Well, shoot, guess this'll be an interesting sight. You kill enough gobbos, I'll even buy you a drink."

"Buy me two. You owe me that much, at least."

"And she can banter too. Damn!" the human said, snickering and settling a thumb in his belt. "We could do with more elves like you in the world. Most of you, no offence, tend to be on the hoity-toity side."

She looked him in the eye, stone faced against his smirking. "Now I think you're trying to get me to punch you."

Before he could answer, the carriage came to a sudden lurching halt. A discordant murmuring broke out among the adventurers, who glanced all about. Illyana rose from her seat, peering beyond the carriage ahead of them. They had reached the crest of a hill, leading down toward Glain.

It was only now that she noticed the dense columns of smoke rising from the horizon. She had glimpsed traces of blackness from afar, yes, but she had assumed them to be from forges and workhouses. Glain, after all, had an active metal forging industry. But only now did she realise, her face paling, how vast the rising smoke was.

Gripping her sword tight, she vaulted over the edge of the carriage. A few of the others joined her, moving around to get a better look at the distant horizon.

Glain was a burned out ruin. The walls had been smashed in several places, and just about every building Illyana could see had been reduced to a blackened husk. A chill raced down the elf's spine, her fingers gripping her claymore with renewed strength.

She had been to Glain more than once in the past, usually a pitstop on longer journeys. It had been a nice place, populated with friendly faces, who had treated her with kindness and fairness. Now it was all gone, reduced a blackened soot-stained wound on the earth.

But how? Goblins could be vicious, certainly, but she'd never heard of goblins being able to raze an entire town. And what could have torn holes in the wall like that? She had heard tales of goblin shamans, a particularly rare breed who could draw magic from Promethea. But a target like that surely would have been cut down by bolts.

The hooded adventurer came to a halt beside her, a thumb still hooked into his swordbelt. "The message to the Adventurer's Guild only came in a few days back. It's already been destroyed?"

"Looks like," she muttered, still trying to puzzle out how. She took a breath. "We need to go down and see what happened. The Guild will want to know."

The driver of the wagon scoffed. "I'm not going anywhere near that," he remarked, gripping the reins of his horse. The beast whickered. "There might still be goblins down there!"

Illyana nodded. She would have rather had a ride down, but she could make the trip on her own. She hooked her claymore to the strap on her back and made her way down. Slowly, others began to follow after her. The serious-looking professionals, at first, and then the idealistic rookies followed after more trepidation. The smell of burning human flesh killed much of their initial excitement.

The first few bodies came into view some distance from Glain's gate. People who had been feathered by small bolts and arrows, the telltale signs of a goblin attack. Others, curiously, had been torn asunder. By what appeared to be tusks or great claws. Certainly not what Illyana expected to find in a goblin attack.

She inspected one body, leaning over and lifting it with her foot. "They set fire to the town, had people waiting outside to kill anyone who fled through the gates." She stared at the tracks, half-faded in the the road. Human footprints, a few clawed goblin tracks... and much larger tracks, sunken in the mud.

"Clever, for goblins," the hooded man said. "Which makes all this even harder to believe."

Illyana nodded, making her way toward the gates. She stared at a smashed section of the wall, and noticed something odd. Portions of the obliterated bricks were scorched. The elf inched around, gesturing with one hand toward the fractured wall and then using that hand to try and guide a line through the air toward the treeline.

It was not hard for her to follow the trajectory from the fractured wall, making for the nearby brush. There, amidst flattened grass, she saw it: A cannon. The sight of it made her mouth run dry.

It was every bit as big and imposing as the cannons she had seen in larger settlements, though the barrel had been modified to resemble the head of a roaring gargoyle. Goblins could steal cannons, theoretically. She would even say they were smart enough to aim and fire them. After all, they had the capacity to aim and maintain crossbows. But as she stared at the smoothly sculpted metal, and saw all the small stylistic changes that differentiated it from a standard Arcadian cannon, a grim worry crossed her mind.

Had goblins... built this cannon?

Everything she knew said that that was impossible. But the destroyed town behind her was a clear sign that she could not wholly rely on what she took as a given.

Again the hooded man halted behind her. "That's certainly not a good sign. But take a look at that," he said, gesturing to a section of warped metal at the rear of the cannon. "Little accident with the black powder, I reckon. Blew the thing asunder."

Ilyana nodded and motioned to a tree a few paces behind the cannon. A severed green arm was embedded in the trunk. "Seems like," said the elf.

"Hey, Varis," another voice called from the edge of the brush. "You'll want to see this."

The hooded man, evidently named Varis, looked to the man who had called him: A towering man in a dark surcoat and chainmail. He moved to follow the stranger, and Illyana took off after them.

Several of the adventurers had gathered by the town's obliterated gate, where one woman was holding a length of red cloth between her hands. When Illyana got close enough, she could see an image painted in white on the fabric: An upraised fist, bordered on both sides by shattering chains.

"Found this hitched to a pole just beyond the gates. I think it's... I think it's some kind of flag," the slim woman said.

"Goblins with a flag?" one of the men scoffed and shook his head. "Never heard the li-"

He was cut short by a bolt thudding into his shoulder, punching through his armour and unleashing a spurt of blood. Illyana sprang forth in that same instant, drawing her claymore and swatting away two incoming bolts that flew from the inside of the town.

The adventurers scattered, the man on the ground moaning as he clutched his injured arm. Illyana saw the figures as they emerged from behind the ruined structures, camouflaged by caked-on layers of soot and ash, each brandishing a gleaming steel weapon.

"Goblins!" Varis cried, as a violent chorus rose from within the ruins of Glain.