Between our conversations with Franz, Stefania, and Father Yaqub, we’d managed to instill enough urgency that a council meeting was called for the third day after our first outing into the village. It was the night before, and I was still arguing with Pemberton and Mum over the terms of the document I was going to propose to the council. Mum, bless his crooked soul, kept trying to inject various tax and revenue clauses, so I had to read every draft that came through. After the first three drafts, Pemberton stepped up to be Mum's clerk to ensure that the contract was written legibly, as my contract devil turns out to be dyslexic. It was exhausting. Both demons seemed quite pleased with that.

  "Listen, I'm going to go through this one last time, okay. After this, I'm firing you and requesting a replacement. I need two documents. One is simply for the council to recognize that I am the rightful owner of this cottage. That establishes my residency within the village boundaries.

  “The second is the hard one. Elanthe had been working on me and the demons to soften the tone for the last two days. The initial version Mum drafted stated that the village would all be my slaves and subject to my every whim. I didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know that wasn't going to fly. Now it was simply a matter of stating that the village recognized me as the lord protector, and in exchange for that recognition, I pledged to do everything in my power to protect them. Mum left the room in disgust and walked around the outside of the house smoking a cigar until he had calmed himself down. He hadn't written a one-clause contract in millennia and was insulted to have to do so.

  "I can go with you, Captain." Calista flexed her biceps and observed her reflection in the window. "People recognize the value of strength. When they see how strong you are, they won't be able to resist you. Ask me how I know."

  I didn't need to. I started to envy Krag. He didn't participate in any of the tedious work of running my budding empire. Maybe he was secretly the smartest of the lot of us.

  * * *

  The Dancing Bear had been rearranged to accommodate the village council meeting. I suspect that Franz was the leading proponent against building a proper mayor's hall, as I'm sure he saw banner business on nights that the council met. He'd pulled together three tables at one end of the main room for the council to sit at, positioned so the five council members could face petitioners who stood before them. All of the seats at the other tables were taken tonight, and there were even villagers standing around the edges of the gathering. Word traveled fast in a hamlet this size, and everybody wanted to know what was up with the new paladin occupant of the toll-taker's house.

  Franz's seat was the closest to the bar, where he could dash behind and help serve drinks to the crowd. They didn't even bother pulling it directly from the casks tonight, but had an array of clay pitchers ready to pour. Father Yaqub occupied the seat furthest from the bar, his expression troubled as his eyes met mine. I knew that look. It was the look of a man who needed a stiff drink but wouldn't take one with witnesses—poor bastard. Stefania sat next to him and studied me with her sharp gaze, calculating.

  The other two councilors were new to me. Ignatz was ancient by village standards—stern face carved with deep lines, traditional robes that spoke of old money and older authority. He radiated the kind of stubborn dignity that came from decades of service to his village. He was widely regarded as the most successful farmer in town.

  Vladimir kept his hood up even indoors, his face mostly in shadow. Gaunt features, middle-aged, everything about him screamed, 'I don't want to be here, and I definitely don't want you here either.' His posture was hunched, withdrawn. I expected trouble from him. I could have proposed that the village would be subjugated to his will, and he'd fight me over it.

  I looked around the room to gauge the sentiment, but found it simply full of ordinary people curious about the evening's proceedings. Arthur came in at the last minute and made his way to the barstool closest to the table. From how he was greeted, it was clear he was respected. The stool had been left empty by the crowd, clearly for him.

  Ignatz called the meeting to order with a voice that carried the authority of someone who knew his job well. He guided it skillfully, never allowing off-topic discussions to bog down the proceedings. This wasn't the usual time of month for a council meeting, but so long as everyone was here they'd discharge the business that had accumulated in the past few weeks. There were the usual minor disputes between neighbors over whose turn it was to graze their sheep in what field and whatnot, but that was clearly not why the crowd had gathered—a hush fell over the crowd as I came up.

  The first item, my claim on the toll taker's cottage, was brought up and passed 3-1-1 with very little debate. Vladimir was the sole 'nay' vote, which he justified by wanting to make sure I could get a proper deed, and he proposed sending a messenger to the capital to see what the archive contained—a whole month-long round-trip at best. Father Yaqub abstained, but did add that he wasn't sure it was proper for a paladin of the Light to possess a residence at all. As I said that I'd been instructed to do so, it left him confused but positively inclined. He pointed out that generally, my kind only set down roots when we could fund the construction of a keep and raise troops, but did so without conviction.

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  Then came the big one.

  "Sir Chuck. Please come forward and make your proposal." My turn.

  Had I finished high school, I would have completed a public speaking class in my senior year. Until now, I never realized I had missed something important. I stood up in my battered armor, trusty mace banging against my thigh, and tried to collect my thoughts and remember the words Mum had instructed me on.

  "Council of Thornwell, thank you for entertaining my petition on such short notice. I consider it a blessing of the Light that this meeting was scheduled so soon after my arrival. I am sure that you've already discussed this topic amongst yourselves, but for the sake of these fine people gathered," I gave a slight bow to the audience who muttered their approval, "I will restate the situation. "I have been tasked with protecting this village from demonic invasion."

  For the second time in my life, I understood what the meaning of being able to hear a pin drop meant. Then the audience erupted into conversation.

  "Order! Order!" Ignaz banged his mug, a wooden one I noted as Franz winced with every blow, against the table. "We will have silence! Pray continue, paladin."

  "There is a legend in this hamlet that the toll taker made a deal with the Devil. This is true. I don't know the details, and I can't say that I care to know what they are. The fact is that he did, and the Devil wants his due, which, unfortunately, consists of this fair village and everything and everyone in it. Do not despair, my mission is to see that nobody gets hurt.

  "Unfortunately, what I can do currently is limited. I have a small staff at my disposal, but no fighting men. I understand that there is a militia here in Thornwell, one that has done an admirable job seeing off bandits and wandering monsters in the past." That landed well. I could see several men nodding and lifting their mugs to one another. "The militia is no match for demons, however. One or two, maybe, but not the horde that will descend upon us sometime in the next couple of weeks.

  "I am able to protect the village. Every man, woman, and child. Every home, every fencepost, and every stalk of wheat. But I can only do so if the council grants me the authority I need. Without it, I will die on the bridge, trying to keep the demons out of the village, and then they will come for you. With it, I will live and protect Thornwell for the rest of my days, or until I am reassigned. My fate and that of this fine village sit with the council tonight.

  "I propose this: in exchange for the council declaring me lord protector of Thornwell and its environs, I pledge to defend it for so long as I am able. I claim no authority to tax, no authority to conscript, no tithe of any kind. I simply require the mantle of protector, or I will be powerless to stop what is coming. I appreciate your consideration." I sat down.

  Silence. Then the riot broke out.

  * * *

  Calista's breathing came easy despite the pace—she'd logged three miles already this evening, pushing her speed and endurance just to see if she could. She smiled as she thought in terms of the archaic units of measurement—it was so wonderful as they made no sense! Demonic, even. Sweat slicked her skin, cooled by the evening air, and her muscles sang with the pleasant burn of exertion. She loved this feeling, loved knowing her body could—

  She stopped mid-stride and then jogged backwards a few yards. A tree trunk bore fresh gouges, carved deep into the wood. Letters. A message. Vorghammul the Destroyer was here. Below it, today's date.

  Her heart kicked into a different rhythm. Not fear, not exactly. Calista didn't fear the way others did—there was no point in an elevated heart rate if not exercising—but she understood that Vorghammul was dangerous. A war demon of the worst kind. Nasty and brutish. He would be a great challenge to her wrestling skills if the penalty for losing to him weren't death.

  She dropped into a crouch, scanning the treeline. Evening shadows stretched long through the forest. Birds called overhead. Wind rustled leaves. Nothing moved that shouldn't. But Vorghammul had been here. Recently. Today, recently even. He'd advertised it. She sniffed the breeze, trying to determine which way he might have gone. There! She could smell his pheromones—a bit too demon-y for her taste, but the underlying strength was there. That way.

  Calista straightened and reached for her succubus nature, the part of herself she rarely used. Power rippled across her skin, and her workout clothes vanished. After a brief stint of nakedness, in their place a stealth suit materialized. It was black and form-fitting, designed for silent movement. At least that's what she told herself. It was actually intended to advertise every curve of her body, leaving nothing to the imagination, and it achieved both purposes with elan. She flexed her fingers, testing the fabric's give.

  For a moment, Chuck's face flashed through her mind. The way he sometimes stared at her, then quickly looked away. The odd pauses in their conversations, when it seemed that he'd forgotten what he was talking about. She'd asked him twice if he wanted training tips, but he'd declined both times. Maybe he preferred solo workouts? Some athletes did. She wanted to work out with him, more than she'd ever wanted to work out with anybody, but she couldn't quite fathom why. He was fit, but not that fit. She shook her head. Not important right now. She mustn’t allow herself to be distracted.

  Calista bounded into the woods, her enhanced senses focused. She was a poor tracker, but once she had the trail, it was unmistakable. Not due to the snapped branches and occasional dead animal, but she could almost see his scent lingering in the air before her. She wrinkled her nose. He needed a good shower.

  They'd come from the south and moved towards the village. They'd been stopped by the river, not willing to cross the running water, and kept to the treeline. She scaled a nearby oak in three fluid movements, perching on a thick limb twenty feet up, tail wrapped around the trunk for balance. From here, she could see the cottage in the distance, the lone candle visible to her heightened senses even from this distance.

  Vorghammul may not have been the brightest of demons, but he'd scouted their position today. He was on his way.

  STR_B3AR today, for helping to get the word out about Hell's Paladin. You can check his latest out here:

  ??? GOBLIN SMASHING ???

  by CSN Publishing

  GOBLIN SMASHING

  Tokyo, 2045. For most, a future costs more than they’ll ever earn. For Rin Kazehaya, it costs everything his family’s home, his mom’s life in a hospital, and debt collectors closing in on his siblings. The only thing that pays is hustle and hope.

  When Hero’s Glory Online launches its Crystal League expansion, a single tagline is everywhere: “Bring your business here.” One week. Discounted entry. Real cash for every match, every territory won. Anyone can play but not everyone survives.

  Rin gambles the last of his savings on a shot he can’t afford to lose, logging in from a battered first-gen pod built by his father. But a glitch locks him in as a Goblin the weakest, most-mocked race in the game. No reset. No second chance.

  Now, every victory means cash, every loss risks everything, and every move is broadcast to millions while Tokyo’s most ruthless family closes in on his real life. If he fails, he loses more than a game.

  But Goblins don’t know when to quit. With nothing left but his wits, a gambler’s instinct, and a dream nobody believes in, Rin’s about to find out what happens when the underdog brings his business and his fight to the world’s biggest stage.

  New chapters every Friday at 8pm Central Time.

  Goblin Smashing comes from someone who’s lived the grind as an esports organization owner and competitive MOBA player. If you love siege games, high-stakes MMOs, and underdog stories, you’re in the right place.

  This story is only published on Royal Road.

  If you spot it anywhere else, it’s fake, please flag and report.

  ?? Listen to the Official Goblin Smashing OST ??

  

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