Annan sat by the bonfire, with Village Chief Mark and Dole beside him.
After the celebration, it was time to discuss business.
Annan picked up a piece of toast from the stone and handed it to a little goblin nearby, who was watching with a finger in its mouth.
The little goblin clutched the toast, which was as big as its head, and ran off. Every species was cute when young. Even goblins managed to be ugly and adorable at once.
Annan drafted an alliance pact: Free City would provide the goblins with supplies and protection, while the goblins would provide ten matchlocks and one Goblin Golem.
At first, Annan had thought the "split" was only temporary. As it turned out, the goblins had even divided up their Treasure Vault. Ten matchlocks and one Goblin Golem were Mark's share.
Did that mean Annan had single-handedly split the goblin communities of the Swamplands?
The thing was, Annan hadn't done anything.
The original agreement had called for Annan to take them back to Free City, but after a subtle warning from Dole, he changed his mind.
Free City had moved past its period of unchecked growth, and its population was now growing steadily. Bringing more people in without conditions would draw complaints from its residents—not because their quality of life would suffer, but because outsiders ought to contribute something before entering a city-state they had worked so hard to build.
It would have been different if they could make Goblin Golems. But when Annan asked Mark, "Did you make the Goblin Golem?" and "Can you make another one?" the village chief had no answer.
The truth they were unwilling to reveal was probably why Annan had felt such a jarring disconnect. How could goblins dressed in filthy animal skins have built a