"Just drop them with the rest," Pardew said to the two goblins who were delivering the latest skins.
It had been three weeks since Pardew had joined the clan. His hut had been built a short distance from Harms. Although it was about half the size, one of the recent additions from Teras's clan was a fairly skilled carpenter, and it was much nicer looking. Harm had been a little jealous as he had watched it being built, still residing in the original chief's rather ramshackle hut in comparison. He had been tempted to ask for a new hut, but he didn't need one. The one he had met his needs.
Pardew's workshop sat in the centre of the growing village, and growing it was, with the number of new clan members requiring the additional buildings. To accommodate the new buildings, the area had been cleared of trees.
The workshop, like all other buildings, was single-story; it stretched forty feet and had an open front, allowing natural light. Tanning racks were lined outside, stretching the latest skins that the hunters had provided. The number of hunting parties had been increased to ensure that Pardew always had a continuous supply available.
The air around smelled of musky hides and tannins. The walls were lined with cured hides. Some were stiff and raw; others had been prepared and were supple with a polished sheen. There were tools everywhere that had been brought from Pardew's, and it looked disorganised: heavy knives, awls, mallets and some strange wooden contraption that was used for folding the leather. Surrounding the hut were barrels filled with water, bark, oil, and what Harm believed was lime. The new workbenches were already stained and had deep cuts in them, appearing weathered and much older than they were.
Scraps of leather hung over a rail, many of which would eventually be turned into belts or similar. The speed with which Pardew had set up his workshop had been impressive, to say the least.
Pardew had settled in well. His initial reservations were fading as he settled into the community. The goblins accepted him easily, and he had started to train several of the younger goblins who hadn't yet selected their professions.
"Not like that," Pardew sighed as he approached a young goblin busy cutting some leather with a knife. "You'll ruin the edges."
Pardew lifted a heavy-bladed knife with a viciously curved blade. "Here, use this one."
The goblin put down the small knife he had been trying to saw through the leather with and hefted the blade, before setting back to work, this time with a grin as the knife sliced through the leather like a hot knife on butter.
Harm ducked under the entrance.
"Hi, Pardew. How's everything going?"
"Harm," Pardew smiled. His old face wrinkled as he did with genuine warmth. "Well, as long as they listen." Pardew tilted his head at the young goblin. Harm thought his name was Fagol.
"They do have names," Harm said.
"Aye, and at my age I'm lucky enough to remember my own."
Harm shook his head as he moved to the rear of the building, where various finished pieces of armour were stored. He was looking through them, admiring their workmanship, when a female voice called from the entrance.
Pruni, one of the female matrons from the clan, had just entered. "Here you go," she said as she placed a bowl down for Pardew.
"I've told you already, you don't need to keep feeding me," Pardew complained.
"You're wasting away," Pruni said. "Now eat it all up, and if you want anything else, you just need to ask," she said, winking at him.
Pardew grumbled as he pushed the bowl to one side as Pruni left again. Harm noticed Pardew watching her go, and the briefest smile crept onto his face.
"Do I see a blossoming romance?" Harm asked.
Pardew stammered as his head flew around to where Harm stood. "You most certainly do not. I'm a widowed man," Pardew said as his cheeks coloured slightly.
"If you say so," Harm grinned. "Are these sets ready to be issued?"
"Aye. They are,” Dafu said, he would arrange who they would be issued to. I'm just waiting for him so I can confirm the fittings."
The leather pieces were all adjustable by the straps they had on them, and Pardew had designed them specifically this way since only enchanted armour could be resized.
Harm strode to the entrance. "Dafu?" he bellowed.
A voice carried over from across the village.
"What?"
"Get your lazy arse over to Pardew's."
Several moments passed before Dafu came walking over. "Lazy, you say. I don't sit sunning myself all day like some," Dafu grumbled.
Harm just chuckled. He couldn't argue, not that he spent the whole day sunbathing, but he could admit that he wasn't as busy as Dafu was daily. Being the chief of a clan needed to have perks after all.
"Pardew said he is waiting for you to sort out the fighters to fit the armour," Harm said.
"Yes. Yes. I have the names."
"Well, there's no time like the present."
"Okay. Give me a few minutes; I'll go gather them."
"Just tell me who and I'll message them," Harm replied. Since returning, Harm's followership had soared, as more and more of the goblins had accepted his position.
Dafu reeled off the names, and Harm selected them as he did on his display before sending a mental message. His ability to configure it was much better now, and he no longer got bombarded with thoughts from others.
After several minutes, the contacted goblins all arrived, and Pardew spent the next hour fitting and adjusting the leather armour. It only consisted of jerkins and bracers, but compared to the skins many had been wearing for defence, it was a significant upgrade. The fighters all looked at each other, appraising their new equipment, chattering excitedly.
The next day, Harm stood with Dafu watching Luubu take the fighters through their training. Since Harm had taken over, training had become a routine for all the goblins. Even those who weren't fighters were being taught the basics. Harm wanted to ensure the whole clan could defend itself if necessary.
"They look good," Dafu said.
"They do," Harm agreed. "Pardew has excelled with the armour."
"It's just weapons now," Dafu sighed, as he looked at the weapons many of the fighters held. Most of the fighters still carried crude spears or axes. The swords they had stolen and sharpened were the only weapons really of any substance.
"The armour will stop a glancing blow. Their steel weapons will punch straight through our weapons," Dafu said.
Harm couldn't disagree with his words.
"We need to do something about it," Harm agreed.
As the evening set in, Dafu and Pardew had joined Harm outside his hut. They each held heavily laden plates of fresh hogling and venison. The recent increase in hunting had really benefited the clan, and all the goblins were filling out, now that they all ate decent meals daily.
"Oh, here you go," Dafu said as he removed a pouch from his inventory and handed it to Harm.
Harm took the pouch, tipping the contents into his palm. It contained several uncut emeralds. Harm had a small chest in his hut, where he kept them stored, and over the weeks, it had been filling up. It was a small fortune, and the irony was that he had nowhere that he could spend it.
"Did the scouts ever discover the source?" Harm asked; he had requested Dafu send out a party to try and locate where the emeralds were washing down from.
"Not yet; they are still working through the higher ridges," Dafu replied.
"I wish I could use these to buy weapons," Harm sighed, rolling the gems in his hand.
"Why don't you?" Pardew asked.
"How? None of us can go anywhere near the townships."
Pardew was quiet for a few moments as he took another bite of venison. "Perhaps I can."
"How? It would be too dangerous. You can't go into Sallew. Suddenly reappearing after your disappearance would draw too much suspicion, and Satil's group heavily influences Kartoon."
"Hillnot," Pardew replied.
Dafu scoffed. "The dwarves will never deal with goblins."
"They wouldn't be dealing with goblins; they would be dealing with me. I have spent years trading with Hillnot. I admit that since my beloved passed," Pardew performed a cross on his chest. "I haven't been there as regularly as I used to, but I still have contacts there."
"No. It's too dangerous," Harm said.
"Why? Hillnot aren't under Satil's influence. The dwarves would never allow themselves to be dragged to his level. They have always been honest and fair traders. Never had a bad deal with them."
"I agree that they aren't under Satil's influence, but it's still too risky. You're our armourer; we can't chance losing you."
Pardew scoffed. "If an old man can't try to help his family, then what's the point?"
The comment struck Harm like a charging troll. Pardew unwittingly had stated the same feeling that he had for the clan. They were his surrogate family; despite every flaw, they excelled in other areas, especially their absolute loyalty.
"Sallew must think you are dead," Dafu said. "If you were seen in Hillnot, it could be disastrous."
"Bah, don't be so stupid, boy. I wouldn't be walking openly in the middle of the day. I'm not that daft, and not many trade with Hillnot these days. Satil directed virtually all his business Kartoon's way."
"But still," Dafu said.
"It's only Satil's guards I would need to worry about, and I can't remember the last time I saw any of them enter Hillnot; their patrols fall short of the town. I doubt Hillnot would even allow them entry if they requested it; there's no love between the towns," Pardew said.
Harm sat contemplating the risks. If Pardew could obtain weapons from Hillnot, it would make an immediate difference to the clan. He stated he had a trading history and contacts, and the dwarves by far made the best weapons and metal armour in the territory.
"I'll think about it," Harm said as they finished their meal.
It was two days later when an excited Dafu came sprinting to find Harm.
"They found it," Dafu grinned.
"Found what?" Harm asked, confused.
"The vein. The bloody emerald vein. It's in a cave network that feeds the river," Dafu's excitement was palpable. The report had just been shared with him on the scouting party's return. It was deep inside the cave network, the scout had described the glinting green light, and Dafu handed the rock they had brought back to Harm as proof.
Harm couldn't help but grin back; the size of the rough emerald almost filled his palm. "That's excellent news. Is it going to be easy to mine?"
"I don't see why not. It's outside of Hillnot's borders, so we aren't encroaching on dwarven territory, so there's no threat from there."
"Excellent. We need to get to work on it then."
"Already have. I've sent an immediate party back there. We are going to switch every three days. It takes about five hours from here, but I think a party of six can do a decent amount of mining."
Harm was impressed with how logical Dafu had become since their first meeting. By locating the emerald vein, it wouldn't just mean that they were a wealthy clan; it would mean wealth beyond anything they had ever imagined. Pardew's offer to go to Hillnot weighed heavily in his thoughts.
The river water was always refreshingly cold, and Harm was stripped off, bathing in it, still mulling over whether to send Pardew when the taunting voice of Death returned.
You've played at being chief long enough, while your enemy continues to grow fat. You coddle your clan; they need to be forged. This isn't your promise; your gift is much more. Fill your coffers by all means, but you must let me feast.
I will soon enough, but we need weapons; we can't attack Sallew without them, Harm thought.
Once your mind is made up, send the old man. Purchase what you need. Then feed my need.
Harm didn't reply as he climbed from the river, getting dressed.
He walked to Pardew's workshop, and several goblins were busily working away.
"Harm," Pardew said.
"You can do it," Harm replied.
"Do what? Oh..." Pardew said, realising what he was talking about.
"I'll be sending you with our two best scouts. You enter, discuss the trade and then leave. You can't stay in Hillnot any longer than necessary."
"And where do we complete this trade?" Pardew asked. "I also can't carry many weapons, so ideally a cart would be needed."
Harm hadn't thought of that as yet. He remained silent for a moment. The problem was that there was one main track that ran from Sallew to Hillnot, which the Sallew town guard regularly patrolled. Pardew wouldn't be able to casually ride the path without potentially being spotted. There was an old farm, which had been abandoned years earlier, near the top of the valley. The farmer had moved to the plains' edge because the ground was unsuitable for crop growing.
"You know the old place Haskins owned, years back now?" Harm asked.
"Aye. I know the one you mean."
"If we can get a horse and cart there somehow, I think it's outside Sallew's patrols."
"It is, but it won't be easy to get a horse and cart there. Where are you thinking of getting one from?"
"I don't know yet," Harm sighed. "Maybe one of the farms. I guess my old wagon is still at the farm. A horse will be a different story."
"I'm going to suggest something, which might sound a little strange," Pardew said.
"Go on."
"In the old days, all we needed was a cart. We didn't need a horse."
Harm frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
"I'm going back many years now, but there used to be an old trader. Walter, I think his name was. He used to use goblins to pull his wagon. It was a regular sight in Sallew when I was growing up as a lad."
"Goblins?" Harm said, confused.
"Yes, Goblin slaves. He had a bunch of them. He fed 'em and kept 'em clean, and they pulled his cart for him. There are still rumours that the valley clans started here because of him."
Harm had never heard anything about goblin slaves before, and he wondered how much truth there was in that being where they originated.
"Any goblins in the valley would be killed on sight these days," Pardew shrugged.
That was something that Harm was going to change in one way or another.
"We'll chat more over dinner tonight," Harm said as he left. Where the hell can I get a horse from? He mused as he walked away.
That evening, as they sat eating following their usual routine, they came up with a plan. Pardew wouldn't just purchase weapons, but also a mule and cart. The dwarves had many that they used in the mines, and Harm was sure that Pardew would be able to purchase one, or even loan one, if necessary, if he spent enough with whoever his trading friend was. He would then meet at Haskins' old farm, where they would unload the weapons, allowing for the cart to be returned as needed, or to remain there if purchased.
"First light tomorrow," Harm said as they finalised the details. His stomach felt knotted, and his nerves were fraught at the thought of what Pardew would be undertaking in the morning.
I only hope I'm not sending him to his death, Harm thought as he tore a chunk of hogling from the haunch he held.
