NOVEL WEB Chapter 4: Chapter 3
You can only trick people for so long before they start asking questions.
That goes for goblins too.
The first few days after we laid the first brick, the village was buzzing. Everyone was hyped about "Taku's House of Tricks," which, by the way, I still did not approve of as a name. Riri even started drawing stick figures of me fighting off humans with flaming bricks.
I was flattered. A little disturbed. But mostly flattered.
Still, momentum doesn't last forever. Goblins have the attention span of a squirrel with a head injury, and by day five, Bonk had already suggested we convert the building site into a mud wrestling pit.
"Good for morale," he argued.
"Terrible for structural integrity," I replied.
So I did the only thing I could think of.
I gave them a blueprint.
Literally.
…
I took a long piece of bark, borrowed some charcoal, and sketched out the entire village: paths, walls, future buildings, farming plots, even where I wanted to put a bathhouse eventually. I labeled everything in Goblinese and added tiny drawings so Bonk wouldn't try to store fish in the library again.
When I unrolled it in the village square, everyone gasped.
"Flat village?" Guk asked, poking it.
"No. It's a drawing of the village."
"Like baby drawing? When Riri use berry juice on wall?"
"Yes, but with measurements."
They didn't understand it all, but they saw my excitement and pretended they did. That was enough.
"With this," I told them, "we can plan our future. We won't just react to the world—we'll shape it."
Sho the elder leaned in, frowning. "Shape world? Sounds like something a god would do."
"Then I guess we'd better be careful not to mess it up."
…
It wasn't long after that the mess arrived.
It came on two legs, wearing a ragged cloak, dragging a wooden cart filled with bones, mushrooms, and something that might've been a still-squirming squirrel.
A goblin.
But not one of ours.
He was taller, leaner, and wore a necklace of teeth that definitely weren't decorative. His ears were pierced with tiny bones, and his face was painted with ash.
I was in the middle of convincing Bonk not to install a slide into the food cellar when I heard the shouting.
The stranger stood at the edge of the village, flanked by a few of our own scouts. Grak was already there, arms crossed, eyes wary. I approached slowly, heart thudding.
"Who is he?" I whispered.
"Gresh," Grak said. "Tribe from mountain caves. Dangerous. Hungry."
I swallowed. "Should I… talk to him?"
Grak nodded. "Soft-Skin make words. You good at words."
"No pressure."
…
I stepped forward, hands raised.
"Welcome," I said in Goblinese. "You've come far."
Gresh studied me, then spat on the ground.
"You smell like soap and lies."
"That's… not wrong."
"This village has changed," he said. "Bricks. Fire pits. Tidy fences. This is not the goblin way."
"Maybe it's time for a new goblin way."
He squinted. "You human?"
"Technically."
He stepped forward. "Then you'll bring humans here. Betray us. Like always."
I shook my head. "The humans already tried to wipe us out. I stopped them. Not with swords—with smarts."
Gresh snorted. "Words don't stop arrows."
"But they stop people from drawing them in the first place."
There was a long pause.
Finally, he said, "My tribe is starving. Caves are too dry. No mushrooms. Few rats. I came to see if your rumors were true. That the Soft-Skin had made a village safe for goblins."
"It's not safe yet. But it's getting there."
"You share food?"
"If you share people. Skills. Strength."
He scratched his chin with a claw. "You make a clan?"
"A kingdom."
Gresh blinked. "What's the difference?"
"Paperwork," I muttered.
Then louder: "A kingdom protects. Organizes. Builds. Rules. A clan survives. A kingdom thrives."
He was quiet for a long time. Then, to my surprise, he grinned.
"Then maybe I stay. See if your bricks are stronger than your mouth."
I extended my hand.
He shook it.
That was the moment the goblin kingdom began.
…
Integrating Gresh's people was… messy.
They were nocturnal. My goblins weren't.
They ate their meat raw. My goblins had learned to season.
They bathed once a moon. My goblins were now addicted to warm water and lavender-scented soap moss.
And they didn't trust me.
"Why do we follow human?" one of them snarled during a harvest meeting.
"Because the human kept you from starving," Riri snapped before I could answer.
She was fierce when she wanted to be.
"He knows things," she added. "Like why your water smells like goat farts and how to make it stop."
I gave her a thumbs-up.
Still, tensions flared. Once or twice, there were fights. Guk and one of Gresh's warriors wrestled in the mud for three hours until they both passed out from dehydration.
I implemented work teams. Mixed groups. Assigned jobs that encouraged cooperation.
Slowly, cracks turned into seams.
…
It was Gresh who brought the warning.
"Humans are moving."
"Which ones?"
"Silver-blade woman. The one you lied to."
"Of course," I muttered.
Apparently, her group had returned to the nearest town and reported a "suspicious monster nest" in the forest.
"How long?" I asked.
"Few days. Week, if you're lucky."
"We're never lucky."
I gathered the council.
"We need to do more than build," I told them. "We need to be seen."
"Seen? Isn't that bad?" Bonk asked.
"Not if they see what we want them to see."
That night, I drew up plans for something bigger than a wall or hall.
A diplomatic trap.
…
The idea was simple: when the humans returned, they'd find not a monster hovel, but a functioning, orderly settlement. Goblins wearing stitched vests and offering them salted root chips.
"We'll show them we're not a threat," I explained.
"We'll pretend to be humans?" Riri asked.
"No. We'll show them something better."
"A village that doesn't smell like feet?" Bonk said.
"Exactly."
We cleaned. We built signs. We crafted uniforms. I even coached Gresh in etiquette.
"Why are we doing this?" Sho asked one evening.
"Because," I said, "if they think we're like them—civilized, stable—they'll hesitate."
"And if they don't?"
"Then we go to Plan B."
"Which is?"
"Look confused, act cursed, and let Bonk scream until they leave."
"I like Plan B," Bonk said.
…
They came at dawn.
Five riders. Silver armor. Familiar faces.
Same leader. Lady Steeljaw, as I called her.
She looked around slowly, frowning at the clean paths, the orderly brick structures, the goblins sweeping the walkways.
I stepped forward in a vest Riri had stitched from dyed cloth.
"Welcome," I said, bowing.
"What… is this?"
"The Kingdom of Underleaf."
"You named it?"
"Of course. How else would you find us on a map?"
"I expected…" she paused. "Chaos. Blood. Goblin heads on spikes."
"We considered it. Bad for tourism."
One of her companions stifled a laugh.
"This is a joke."
"Only if you decide to treat it like one."
"You're a human. Why side with monsters?"
"Because these monsters raised me. Protected me. Believed in me. That's more than I can say for my own kind."
She looked at the village again. At the council members behind me. At Gresh, standing still but alert.
"We'll report back to the city. They may not take this seriously."
"They should."
"And if they attack?"
"Then we'll be ready."
I turned and walked back into the village, heart racing.
That night, Riri asked me what I'd do if the humans came again—this time with fire and steel.
I didn't answer right away.
Instead, I looked at the stars and whispered:
"Then we build higher."