William froze, and his stomach sank. He checked his broken interface.

  [SYSTEM ERROR: Incomplete Interface]

  [Quests] Clear the Caves of Goblins and Other Threats, Shadows of the Goblin King, SYSTEM ERROR

  Fredric noticed his master stiffen. “What’s wrong, my lord?”

  “Nothing,” Will lied before rubbing his temples. “And call me Will; I’m not a noble.” But the notification had left a cold chill down his spine. Goblin King. That wasn’t a normal early-game questline. That was a mid-level arc boss, something that should’ve required multiple full raid parties of thirty players and months of grinding to even approach.

  If this world is following the same path, then the Goblin King is coming. And the horde won’t stop at one village. He clenched his fist around the talisman. Although he hadn’t participated in the Shadows of the Goblin King event early on, he did get involved when the Goblin King made a personal appearance to attack the capital city.

  Fredric was watching him with unease written all over his young, freckled face. “What do we do, my lord? Erm, Will?”

  William slipped the talisman back into his storage. “First, we tell the elder what we found. Then we prepare. If there’s an orc shaman nearby, he won’t stop until he’s bled this whole region dry of resources.”

  The wind stirred the trees, carrying with it a faint smell of smoke. Will placed his hand on his new dagger. The night raid had been just the beginning; he could feel it. And somewhere in the shadows of the forest, a predator was already preparing.

  ***

  William found the elder in the village meeting hall; the small hall was busy with villagers drifting in and out as they went about their business.

  He waited until they were alone before placing the crude talisman on the elder’s table. The bone and sinew charm looked even fouler in the lamplight. “Master Nobby, the runesmith, has confirmed those are mind control runes. I’m convinced we have an orc shaman organising the goblins.”

  The elder hunched closer, his lined face tightening. “This was on the goblins, my lord? I thought it was just a macabre decoration.” He tapped the table as he thought. “Mind control runes sound familiar, but my old memory isn’t what it used to be,”

  “One in ten carried them,” William said. “And their attack was too organised for simple goblins.” He sat on the bench in front of the elder and leaned in. “I went to the edge of the forest and found large prints and staff marks in the mud… This isn’t a simple goblin raid. There’s someone behind it, most likely an orc shaman.”

  The elder drew a slow breath and sank into his chair. “Orc shamans are rare this far from the Wastes, my lord. If you are right, this is worse than we feared.” He reached for the talisman, then snatched his hand back as though it might burn him. “We must not tell the people.” He glanced around to check no one was close by; he saw only Fredric at the side of his new master. “Panic will spread faster than fire.”

  Will folded his arms. “Better they prepare than walk blind into slaughter.”

  The elder’s eyes glimmered under the low firelight. “A growing number already whisper that your arrival has cursed us, my lord. That the fallen gods sent you as a sign of ill fortune. If they hear talk of shamans and dark sorcery, they may not fear the goblins as much as they fear you.” The old man held his chin in his hand.

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  William held his tongue, though his jaw clenched. He’d seen the looks… suspicion behind the gratitude, mutters when they thought he couldn’t hear. Superstitious fools. He had saved them, but people preferred an easy target for their fear and grief.

  “How dare they!” Fredric yelled, his face red with rage. “William saved the village. With-without him, we’d all be dead. They should be beat…”

  Before he could argue further, the hall doors swung open. A young rider, spattered with mud, stumbled inside. His leather jerkin bore the crest of the King’s messengers: a white hawk on a red field. He bent low before the elder, gasping for air.

  “Message from the Crown,” he panted. “Goblin raids reported in most of the western border hamlets. The King commands each village to fortify and hold until the army can march and quell the threat.” He pulled a sealed parchment from his pouch and placed it in the elder’s trembling hands.

  The elder broke the wax with shaking fingers, his face drained of colour as he scanned the parchment. “A detachment of the King’s Army will come in a week. Perhaps longer.”

  Over a dozen curious villagers had followed the messenger into the meeting hall; a ripple of unease spread among those gathered. Someone muttered a prayer to the old gods.

  Will took the parchment and read the curt orders for himself. A week. If they were lucky. He looked to the messenger. “How long until you reached us from the last village?”

  “Six hours hard ride from the north, Sir Knight.” The young man’s voice cracked with exhaustion. “There were more goblin warbands behind me. Two villages further north have already burned to the ground… Some of the survivors are heading your way; they should arrive tomorrow. The goblins are spreading like a plague from the Western Wastes.”

  Will’s stomach twisted. He was beginning to remember more details: villages burning in quick succession along the western border, no time to regroup, reinforcements not arriving soon enough. And always, behind it all, the shadow of the Goblin King. It can’t be just one orc shaman; each large raiding group has to be controlled.

  He racked his memories for more details, but there was nothing there. Most of what he remembered about the Goblin King was fighting hordes of goblins outside the capital. He never even saw the Goblin King in person. Will was just one of the tens of thousands of players who’d gathered for the culmination of the game event. His guild had decided to take a break from dungeon raids to farm XP and reputation from goblins. All who participated in the event gained reputation for the Kingdom of Mercia.

  William returned the parchment to the elder. “You heard him. We have a week at best. But the threat is larger than the King realises. This was just one small raiding party to gather supplies; there could be dozens of orc shamans out there controlling a horde.” He gesticulated with his arms towards the forest. “Goblins don’t march in order unless something stronger drives them. If we wait for the army, there’ll be nothing left here to save.”

  The elder’s hands trembled around the parchment. “Then what hope have we, my lord?”

  Will looked at the crude talisman on the table. It seemed to pulse in the lamplight, or perhaps that was just his tired eyes. He closed his hand around it, feeling its rough edges bite against his gauntlet.

  “We prepare. We train as many as we can, and when the orc shaman shows himself, we cut the head off the snake before it coils around the Kingdom.” William looked to the messenger. “Warn other villages that the goblins are likely controlled by an orc shaman.” He shoved the crude talisman in the young man’s hand. “This is your proof. That’s a mind control rune; the threat is larger than you think.”

  A new notification appeared.

  [Questline Updated: Prepare the Village of Brindlecross]

  William’s eyes widened. Another one, and it’s a quest chain update. He checked his broken interface.

  [SYSTEM ERROR: Incomplete Interface]

  [Quests] Clear the Caves of Goblins and Other Threats, Shadows of the Goblin King, Prepare the Village of Brindlecross, SYSTEM ERROR

  The messenger stared at him as though seeing something terrible in his eyes. Fredric, silent until now, swallowed hard.

  The elder sagged back in his chair, looking older than ever. “Then may the old gods pity us, for no one else will.”

  Chapter 018 [Day One: Ash on the Wind]