The Female Knight's Lament

The dwarf warrior "Cellar" sitting across from him was nowhere near as tactful as "Slicked-back Hair."

He shoved a huge mug of ale toward Marvin, then mercilessly exposed "Scumbag's" embarrassing story. "We were ambushed by goblins. Scumbag loved showing off, so he charged into the enemy ranks with a rapier in hand, singing as he went.

Then he got ambushed by an enemy archer and took an arrow right in the crotch..."

"Thanks, but I don't drink." Marvin politely declined the dwarf's invitation and ordered himself a glass of orange juice instead.

"You know, Marvin, your only flaw is that you don't drink. By Moradin's beard! Someone actually refuses the joy brought by alcohol!"

Cellar gave Marvin a look of utter incomprehension, took back the ale he had offered him, then grabbed the Tethyr wine he had ordered with his other hand and began drinking with both hands.

The last member of the Goddess Body Fragrance Squad, a half-elf rogue nicknamed "Toad," took over and continued recounting their ambush.

"The Shattered Tooth Tribe was far from an ordinary goblin tribe. Their commander was extremely skilled at surprise attacks and ambushes, and their combat strength was formidable as well.

The goblin unit we encountered had more than fifteen goblin hunters, a hobgoblin warlock, and two heavily armored bugbear warriors. Fortunately, when we made camp, I set poison traps around the campsite. They slowed the enemy's advance and allowed us to retreat successfully.

Scumbag injured that thing, so he can't torment women for the time being. That's already the best outcome our squad could have hoped for, hahaha..."

His miserable childhood had left Toad disfigured and damaged his throat, so he always kept his face covered, and his voice was as rough as sandpaper.

As Toad spoke of Scumbag's misfortune of being struck between the legs by a poison-tipped arrow from a goblin hunter, his laughter scraped across the room like iron hooks raking a chalkboard, drawing startled looks from diners at neighboring tables.

Scumbag, who fancied himself a romantic and claimed that everything from dragons to demons fell within his hunting grounds, had now injured the most crucial part of a man's body...

Marvin could not help observing half a second of silence for that flamboyant bard.

"So that's why Scumbag, who always loved parties, isn't here. He's recovering from his injury," Marvin said.

Slicked-back Hair smiled and pointed toward the stage in the center of the hall. "He's not that well-behaved. Scumbag will be performing onstage soon."

"He's still going onstage with that kind of injury?"

"Scumbag said that his weakened body and despairing state of mind had inspired his creativity. If he didn't take this chance to perform his newly written poem, he might never have such a perfect opportunity again."

It had to be said that Scumbag possessed a strong professional spirit. He had the soul of a performer.

Just as their conversation ended, the hall gradually fell silent to the sound of urgent drumbeats.

Then Scumbag, the bard, appeared with a lute in his arms, his face pale and his gait strange.

To be honest, he really did have something of a melancholy artistic air about him.

Scumbag gave a slight bow, gently plucked the strings, and his deep, slightly hoarse voice wove a sorrowful ballad:

Baldur's Gate once welcomed Lathander's dawn,

Her golden hair hung brighter than the sun,

Warm sunlight gleamed upon her armor,

Her longsword pierced the monsters' miasma.

"Those who believe in light shall never lose their way,"

When she smiled, even the wind carried warmth and fragrance.

But Cloakwood Forest's claws had long woven their net,

Goblin poison arrows hid the chill of rotting leaves,

Piercing the emblem upon her shield.

When we followed the blood trail into the tangled woods,

Only a faint golden gleam remained upon her sword hilt.

The campfire trembled with uneasy light amid the trees,

A priest held a holy symbol, prayers shattered into frost,

"She once raised her shield to protect an entire village,"

The old blacksmith struck his anvil, tears falling upon the steel.

Wine cups emptied and filled again, yet no one dared speak of the past,

Afraid that one mention of "golden hair" would shatter every heart's pain.

Now whenever the wind swept through the forest, it carried longing,

As if recounting the morning prayer she had never finished singing.

If Lathander's light had ever shone upon the goblins' burrowed alleys,

Please bring a lock of her golden hair back beside the altar—

That was the last glimmer we could preserve for her,

And the shape of light as it had once fallen upon this world.

Given Marvin's artistic sensibilities, he only thought the ballad was fairly good. Paired with the bard's masterful skill, it counted as an excellent performance.

However, the other audience members in the hall were far more emotionally invested than he was, almost completely immersed in it.

"Sniff... Miss Ailei... I hate my own helplessness! I couldn't save you from the goblins' demonic clutches..."

"Damn it, is the rose of Baldur's Gate really going to wither away?"

"Miss Ailei once saved my village. She was what drove me to become an adventurer. Why was fate treating her so cruelly..."

"There's still hope! We can't give up, brothers! In Tyr's name, let's charge in one more time!"

Most of the listeners in the hall were adventurers who had once taken on the mission issued by the duchess and rushed into Cloakwood Forest.

Having returned in defeat, they could empathize even more deeply with the bard's lyrics.

It seems that duke's daughter really is incredibly charming, to have so many adventurers mourning for her, Marvin thought.

Even the Sacred Eternal Sun Squad, which had recently become the talk of town and sat two tables away, had never contributed to rescuing Miss Ailei, yet they too were moved by the poem's sorrow.

Eruien, who had the look of a protagonist, clenched both fists, flames burning in his eyes. He seemed to have made up his mind to defy the tide of failure among the adventurers, rescue the female knight from peril, and add another woman to his harem.

His three female companions were likewise immersed in the atmosphere created by the bard, some with tears in their eyes, others lowering their heads in thought.

Watching the crowd mourn the female knight's fate, Marvin could only shake his head helplessly.

The beautiful female knight definitely would not, as they imagined, start unlocking all sorts of censored milky-white CGs after being captured by goblins.

The public's distorted understanding of goblins was partly the fault of the god he worshipped, Oghma, the God of Knowledge.

Well, the main blame lay with the previous Goddess of Magic.

The Spellplague caused by the Goddess of Magic's death had plunged all Faerûn into chaos. Oghma's church had been unable to remain untouched, splitting into several factions, and the knowledge transmission network painstakingly built over centuries by their predecessors had crumbled as well.

During that century of chaos, much knowledge that should have been considered common sense was continually lost.

When goblins held the upper hand, they were cruel and evil; when the tide turned against them, they were cowardly and weak. Adventurers both hated and despised them, yet hardly anyone was willing to truly study and understand their habits.

And the research records on goblin populations left behind by earlier generations had been lost as well.

As a result, rumors about goblins ran rampant, spreading from mouth to mouth and forming the stereotypes now prevalent among adventurers.

Fortunately, after Ao, the Overgod, rewrote the Tablets of Fate, the entire Realmspace entered a long-awaited period of stability.

Oghma's church had also begun trying to bridge the differences between its factions, recover lost knowledge, and rebuild its transmission network.

Faerûn now possessed the fresh, vigorous air of a world rebuilding after disaster, where all things flourished and strove forward.

Perhaps in a few more years, adventurers would develop a proper understanding of goblins.