Goblins

"Step right up, take a look!"

The short goblin stood on a platform constructed from several cargo crates, standing on his tiptoes as he loudly solicited potential buyers for his "wares."

"Big sale! Gnolls from the Alterac Mountains—great helpers for spring plowing, excellent guards for the autumn harvest. The most loyal and diligent slaves, the most valiant and fearless warriors, take them home for five silver coins! Only five silver coins, just five silver coins!"

The goblin merchant's pitch was tempting, but it had little effect on the residents of Andorhal, who were accustomed to all sorts of merchants passing through. Although the street was bustling and many commoners gathered around to point at the sickly-looking group of Gnolls behind him, not a single real customer stepped forward to express interest or ask about the price of these monsters.

Of course, there were reasons for this current situation:

First, the language barrier. Gnolls had their own language, and only a very small number could communicate in the common tongue of humans. Although some scholars' investigations suggested that Gnolls absorbed knowledge quickly, few people possessed such obscure knowledge, and even fewer were willing to personally tutor these savage beasts.

Second, even if someone actually taught this group of Gnolls the common tongue, they could never adapt to the work of ordinary people. Although Gnolls looked similar in stature to humans, the wildness remaining in their bloodlines made it impossible for them to live a settled life. They were born warriors; in stories passed down by word of mouth, those ferocious Gnolls were all heartless brutes who would stop at nothing, even cannibalizing their own kin.

Third, for potential buyers, the price of these slaves was too high. Five silver coins were enough to purchase a sturdy Gnoll brute from mercenary groups specializing in this business at the border, whereas most of the slaves behind the goblin were wounded and pitifully thin, severely diminishing the value of this "merchandise."

Because of these various reasons, Gallywix Goldcoin had shouted until his throat was nearly dry without attracting a single real customer. Realizing that all his efforts had been in vain, the irritable goblin jumped off the platform, which was about as tall as his short stature, picked up a water jug by his feet, and gulped down a large mouthful.

Damn it, if it weren't for that group of useless mercenaries and those damned bandits, the great Gallywix could have earned over a dozen gold coins this time! Thinking of this, the goblin merchant turned back and glared viciously at the group.

Most of the Gnolls, having suffered enough, carefully avoided Gallywix's fierce gaze, but a few ferocious ones still bared their blood-stained maws at the menacing goblin, seemingly as a show of defiance.

"Looks like I need to teach you a lesson?"

The disgruntled goblin merchant really wanted to find a place to vent his anger, and the provocative looks from the Gnolls gave him the perfect excuse. However, although he raised the whip in his hand high, he couldn't bring himself to strike. These were all gold coins; if they sustained any more damage, they would be even harder to sell!

The conflicted Gallywix held that pose, his expression shifting constantly, until he finally hung the whip back on his waist in frustration, choosing not to add any more scars to his merchandise. Just as he was lamenting his bad luck, a youthful voice rescued him from the abyss of anger.

"Boss, are these the Gnolls from the Alterac Mountains?"

In just half a second, the previously furious goblin merchant plastered a fawning smile onto his face. He turned around eagerly, bowed, and saluted in the direction the voice came from. "Absolutely, straight from the Alterac Mountains! These are high-quality goods that my brave mercenaries spent a great deal of effort to capture—"

The seasoned goblin merchant heaped extravagant praise upon his "goods" while slowly raising his head to look at the first customer to inquire about the price. He skillfully and subtly scanned the boy's clothing and accessories from bottom to top, assessing this potential guest.

But in front of the boy, this great merchant who had traveled far and wide since adulthood and seen the world lost his composure—Gallywix's mouth hung open in an exaggerated gape, his eyes widened, and he stood there stunned.

The reason this veteran goblin merchant was so flustered was, of course, not Alvin's young age. For Gallywix, who had been mingling in human society for many years, he could tell from that tender voice alone that the other party was a young child.

To a true goblin, customers have no age or race. In a goblin's eyes, there is only one thing—money, money, and more money! As long as your pockets are filled with shiny little darlings, even if you were a demon of the Burning Legion, these money-grubbing goblins would dare to do business with you!

Without exception, Gallywix, who grew up in Ratchet, was a traditional goblin. His dream was to become an excellent goblin like Gazlowe, a wealthy tycoon capable of managing a city.

Therefore, picking the pockets of an innocent child for all his little darlings posed no moral obstacle for this goblin. As for whether the other party would eventually discover they had been swindled, what did that have to do with him? All goblin merchants held only one creed: to "legally" earn gold coins through contracts.

At this very moment, Gallywix was panting, his heart pounding, his mind spinning rapidly.

Gold coins above, what is all this!

The classic combination of gold and silver, such elegant and exquisite buttons; and that soft fabric with mysterious runes outlined in golden thread—that was definitely enchanting from those mages; that necklace, that charming pale blue glow, a high-level magic accessory!

Just how wealthy was this kid? Even if I hadn't encountered those damned bandits this time, the profit wouldn't have matched this boy's outfit! Gold coins, these are talking, walking gold coins!

The goblin merchant seemed to have fallen into a hallucination, his face wearing an infatuated expression. He stepped forward bit by bit, and as if possessed, reached out a finger toward the boy, wanting to touch the clothing that was worth more than all his current assets combined.

Just as his finger was a foot away from the boy's shoulder, a shrill sword-ring suddenly sounded before him. A cold longsword in the hand of a Royal Guard transformed into a silver flash, resting straight against the goblin's neck.

"Watch your manners, you filthy green-skinned mongrel!"