Valeria nervously scoured the ruins. She could no longer sense Artax’s aura — as if he had fled far from the Vort’Ayem ruins… or had vanished beneath the earth entirely.

  “Could it be…”

  She didn’t even want to think it.

  “Artax! Where are you!? This isn’t funny!”

  She screamed from deep within her lungs, racing tirelessly through the farthest, cursed ruins in the northwest of the city. In vain.

  The place that once reached the sky now haunted the living — and her. Dawn approached relentlessly, and she still couldn’t find someone she had called her first friend.

  Had he run away?

  Had he forsaken her?

  Had she treated him wrongly?

  She didn’t know. A weight settled in her stomach, as if she had swallowed a stone, and something foreign and cold pressed against her heart.

  Rain dripped from the blackened, scorched ceilings, running down her face and neck like the cold fingers of the dead. Her long hair soaked up water, heavy and tangled, while her boots sank into mud mixed with the dust of the old city. Meticulous to a fault and usually flawless — now she allowed the ruins to soil her cloak and hands, as if cleanliness no longer mattered.

  Memories from her earlier years — years of solitude, in which every step had been hers alone, and people had avoided her as if she were something too dangerous even to look at — flashed through her mind.

  The feeling stirred slowly, painfully.

  Familiar. Too familiar…

  She shivered slightly, as if a great cold had pierced her to the bone. She bowed her head, and a tear slid silently from her eye into the shadows of the ruins.

  “Your Highness! News from the great shaman Isma!”

  The voice tore her from her thoughts. In an instant, she threw a cold mask over her face. With a quick motion, she wiped away any trace of weakness.

  A group of goblins was approaching. Seven of them raced through the ruins toward her. Among them were Borg on a bear and Gyrd with the others on wolves. All of them looked serious — soaked and panting.

  “It’s as you predicted, Your Majesty. Those wretched goblins from the east have teamed up with the orcs and are raiding near the fortress! If we don’t move quickly, these fools could siege it!”

  Borg snorted, tightening his grip on the bear’s back.

  “The Falcon returned just a moment ago. Great Isma speaks of hundreds of enemies from the east, and rumors of orcs marching from the north along the river.”

  Gyrd stroked her favorite, feeding him some grains. Valeria glanced once more at the ruins and ordered everyone to assemble at the main square of the Green Paws village, right in front of the hut of the former leader — Shoma.

  The rain had eased, and the red light of morning pierced through the treetops in the distance and the closer ruins. Valeria felt overwhelmed by the rush of matters. For now, she decided to finish her business with the goblins. Clenching her pale fists, she strode proudly and swiftly toward the meeting place.

  Hundreds of goblins had already formed a thick semicircle facing the grand chair set for the vampire queen. Her beautiful palanquin stood nearby, protected by numerous goblins, with the unruly spearman Zoggo at the front.

  “Where is the warlord!?”

  “Where is Artax the Great Devourer!?”

  “Your Highness!”

  The shouts rang out before Valeria had even fully settled.

  Soaked through, she crossed her legs. Mud caked her soles, and wet hair fell across her face. She looked as if she had just returned from a great battle in the swamps. She paused to gather her thoughts. The Green Generals waited, hobgoblins and goblins murmured among themselves, spinning theories and gossiping in the most imaginative ways.

  “Your Highness… The Alliance capital is under threat… Wagons are ready for march, two thousand warriors await deployment, a thousand have already advanced to the Vort’Ayem outposts…” Mago began, turning to the other generals, who, like him, wanted to ask about Artax. “Mighty queen… What of the warlord? Who will lead the army into battle? Please, give us an answer before we march…”

  The silver-haired queen weighed the risk. She kept a composed face, though her normally quiet and calm heart wanted to leap from her chest. Cold blood and a chilled body fueled a rising anger. Perhaps if she could sense some malignant aura… perhaps if she hadn’t seen him so despondent… perhaps if she hadn’t reproached him…

  “Haha! Rejoice, green nation! I have received splendid news from the south, which I cannot yet reveal to you.”

  She decided to give him a semblance of chance; deep down, she wanted her words to be true… She wanted him to be there, by her side, helping her build their shared kingdom. For now, she was alone. Whenever dark thoughts came, she refused to let them consume her and pressed on. No. This was only a bad dream. Her first friend would never have abandoned her…

  “The great commander Artax has departed at once to carry out a mission of the highest importance — one only he could accomplish!” she shouted, standing tall and raising her sword high, her two-colored eyes gleaming, and all the goblins erupted in cheers once more, believing in the one who had never let them down.

  Borg grinned at her words, Gyrd adjusted her bow and breathed a sigh of relief, and Zoggo clenched the haft of his spear. Mago raised a hand to silence the lower ranks and, no longer holding back, asked Valeria, clearly pleased with herself:

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  “What will you do with the slave Shoma? I’ve heard that the mighty Artax visited him late last night before departing on the important mission you entrusted him with…”

  Valeria paused, thinking of what Artax might have meant by spending time in the cell of that lazy fool. Then she concluded it was worth finding out what had happened. What they discussed, and perhaps why Artax had left so unexpectedly.

  Shoma was soon dragged from his cell and bound with rope. Two hobgoblins held him by the shoulders, a third pushed him with a spear. He offered no resistance, walking like a beaten dog, each step seeming to cost more than it should.

  Through the goblin tracks in the mud walked Nut, completely confused and lost, his head bowed, splashing anyone with each step of his massive paws.

  The goblin crowd murmured:

  “Traitor… Heretic…”

  “Weak leader… Clumsy fool…”

  “Let him rot. Let him perish.”

  Some spat at his feet. One shoved him, another threw a clod of mud in his face and corrected it with a stone. Exhausted, Shoma did not react, his gaze fixed to the ground.

  He was thrown to his knees in front of Valeria, after which two guards pressed his forehead to the earth three times, forcing him to bow.

  For a moment, no one spoke. The Green Generals observed him with curiosity. Some saw the famed troll-tamer up close for the first time. Borg bared his teeth, and Zoggo glared at him hungrily.

  Valeria stared at him silently, resting her chin on her hand. Her eyes were cold, too cold. Dirty, with wet hair plastered to her face.

  “We meet again. Have you reflected on your behavior?”

  Her voice was calm and calculated, carrying far, making some shiver and quicken their heartbeat.

  “I have, I have… Who would have thought that the fate of my kind would lie in the hands of a vampire…”

  Valeria raised an eyebrow, amused by his reply. For a moment, she said nothing, letting the tension thicken. Some goblins grew angry, throwing insults; others glanced at each other, unsure whether it was bravery or foolishness.

  “In the hands of a vampire, you say,” she repeated calmly, tilting her head. “Or perhaps in yours? Look around. Who really defeated you?”

  Shoma looked at the faces of those who had once followed him into battle. Now they looked at him with contempt; others hid behind the vampire’s goblins. No one would risk their neck for him. He was now nothing.

  Shoma lifted his head slightly. His eyes no longer held pure resignation. There was something else — exhaustion mixed with stubbornness.

  “You defeated my troll. You made the goblins abandon me. It was always the strong who shaped the world we live in. Even if there were a hundred times as many of us, we could not defeat all the goblins’ enemies… It’s a pipe dream!”

  The crowd reacted immediately. Murmurs, whistles, a few insults thrown his way.

  Shoma opened his mouth as if to add something, but Valeria raised her hand and sighed lightly.

  “Silence!” Her voice cut the air like a blade. “I’m not interested in your philosophizing. I care about one thing: loyalty. Not idle talk and fantasies. I am not just any vampire. I am the chosen of the ancient behemoths! Understand!?”

  Shoma looked at her — at her pale, wet hair plastered to her cheeks, at her two-colored eyes, now ice and authority. He nodded slowly, hesitantly.

  “Ancient behemoths… Huh… And just what could I possibly do for someone so remarkable? So great? I, a mere son of a slave from Brec,” he muttered, once again deliberately provoking Valeria.

  The crowd pressed their lips together, awaiting her reply. One goblin slapped Shoma; another raised a fist.

  “Oh, you will surely be of use in some way, my little slave,” Valeria said, rising slowly from the throne. Her eyes swept from Shoma to his men, then back to him. “But first… let’s teach you obedience.”

  Shoma furrowed his brow, his gaze darting nervously.

  “Last night Artax told you something you should remember, didn’t he?”

  Shoma looked down, recalling the conversation from the previous night.

  “That it’s not worth giving up. That Zod will arrive soon. That good goblins will be rewarded after death… That it’s worth believing… In goblins. In Zod…”

  The vampire queen nodded. Her friend to the end was leading the performance to its climax…

  “Exactly. But words mean nothing without action. If you truly believe in Zod and better days for the green nation, you will do as I command.” Valeria stepped toward him, her black cloak fluttering in the morning light. “Show me that your words carry weight. That you are utterly obedient to me. That I am your queen. Now. Immediately.”

  Everyone watched the scene with fascination, the morning chill cooling the heated bodies of the impatient.

  “What must I do?” he asked nervously, his gaze wandering.

  “Let’s start with a simple task.” she said, pointing at her muddy boots, raising her right foot so the sole faced his face. “Clean them of mud. With your tongue.”

  The crowd froze. Some goblins snickered, some pitied him, others probably wanted to touch or lick anything belonging to the queen themselves…

  “Come now. It won’t lick itself.” she said in a tone that left no room for objection.

  Once a proud leader, with a life full of hardship and battle, who had vowed to lift his people and resist invaders to the end, he froze.

  He thought again of the terrible trials his people had endured, what he himself had suffered. Then he imagined the tiny girl defeating the troll in combat, the goblins talking about her victory over the cruel Hakku… How Zod had sent his messenger… How his messenger, alongside the chosen of the behemoth, had sealed the wild dungeon plaguing this land…

  He decided.

  Slowly, he opened his mouth, shame and anger mingling in his eyes. His tongue stretched toward the muddy sole. Valeria watched coldly, her lips twitching in a thin, biting smile.

  When his tongue touched the mud atop her boot, she raised a hand and giggled.

  “Stop!” she exclaimed, smiling wider. “I was joking. I didn’t expect you to be so obedient. Considering what you tried with me at our first meeting… you’ve truly surprised me!”

  Shoma sat back on his heels, gasping for air. His face was purple with shame, hair plastered to his forehead. He looked at her and realized he would live. He wanted to kill her and worship her at the same time. Truly a strange feeling. He wanted to spit the mud from his tongue but feared doing so in front of the vampire. He twisted and writhed, unsure of what to do, which only amused those present and the silver-haired queen.

  “Oh my, someone’s embarrassed. Very well then…” she joked, then called out louder so all could hear: “My judgment is this: Shoma will march east with us to atone for the betrayal of Zod and disobedience to his holiest chosen! Supplies from his storages will become the Alliance’s, and his subordinates will become mine. I restore his freedom and make him commander of the western goblins, before unification is complete!”

  The humiliated goblin raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the crowd of goblins, hobgoblins, and the rest of the green warriors. Their anticipation was palpable, now tinged with hope. The troll roared in satisfaction.

  “Prove yourself, Shoma, son of a slave, and you will not regret it… Fail, and you return to the role of boot-licker! Hm!” Valeria said, patting him on the shoulder and grinning, as if partly to mislead him…

  Valeria stepped forward, her cloak fluttering like a dark banner above the warriors’ heads. She raised her sword so that the rays of the rising sun glinted off its blade, and the entire assembly trembled in anticipation.

  “Listen carefully, all who tread this land today!” Her voice shattered the silence, becoming a sound impossible to ignore. “It’s time to end the chaos! Time to show that our strength lies not in numbers, but in courage and obedience to Zod! We march east! Unite all the southern tribes!”

  The crowd murmured. The echo of the queen’s words bounced off the ruins, and the warriors’ hearts raced. Valeria turned toward Shoma and the Green Generals, her eyes blazing with indomitable fire.

  Valeria raised her sword and stepped toward the palanquin.

  Nut roared loudly, digging his claws into the muddy ground. Goblins lifted their weapons, hobgoblins neighed, and the green commanders cried readiness. Every step of Shoma and his men was now confident, and the crowd felt a clear impulse to march.

  Valeria climbed onto the palanquin, her gaze sweeping over everyone, ensuring that all understood — this was no game. This was not just the defense of a fortress, but another campaign — this time east, where goblins were wilder and more dangerous…

  “Let those who seek victory go forth!” she shouted, and the echo of her words rose over the ruins, watched by the spirits of the fallen ancestors of the greatest goblin kingdom…

  Four thousand warriors marched east, shaking the ground beneath their feet, following the vampire queen into another war.