Chapter 125 - 124: Roots of Loyalty

Chapter 125: Chapter 124: Roots of Loyalty Goblin Village - Riverside, late afternoon The windmill stood tall against the treeline, its wooden blades creaking softly as the wind picked up. Nearby, a crude yet functional waterwheel turned steadily with the flow of the river, powering a simple generator built from salvaged parts, stone reinforcements, and hand-forged copper coils. Lumberling wiped the sweat from his brow, stepping back to admire the setup. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked. A low hum pulsed through the riverbank as energy crackled faintly through the wires he’d run toward the village. Lights would follow. Tools, heating, maybe even communications one day. One brick at a time. Behind him, Aurelya sat on a smooth boulder, arms crossed, chin resting in one hand, her golden eyes unreadable. She’d been watching him for days. "Impressed?" Lumberling asked, not turning. "Still trying to decide," she replied, amused. "You built a windmill out of goblin rope and old armor parts." He smiled. "Well, if you’re going to keep loitering here, how about making yourself useful?" She raised a brow. "Useful?" "Teach my captains magic," he said simply. Aurelya blinked. "You want us to teach magic... to goblins and kobolds?" He turned to meet her gaze, calm and serious. "They’re not just goblins and kobolds. They’re leaders. Veterans. I trust them." She stood, brushing her cloak with a sigh. "Even if we teach them, magic isn’t kind. It breaks the weak. It takes decades for a proper foundation." "They’ll manage," Lumberling said. "We don’t need nobles casting tiered spells. We just need enough to survive. A flicker of fire. A push of wind." Aurelya looked past him to where Skitz, Grokk, and Krivex were overseeing the construction of power lines, barking orders and adjusting pulley supports. She had to admit, they moved with discipline, spoke in short commands, and carried themselves like real officers. Not monsters. "Fine," she said at last. "We’ll start them on the principles. Mana channels. Body conditioning. No promises." "That’s all I ask." Later that day, Aurelya spoke with a few of her trusted warriors, battle-hardened elves who’d once fought in imperial skirmishes. When she told them their students would be goblins and kobolds, they stared blankly. And then she added, "This is an order." By dusk, four elven warriors stood in the village clearing, waiting for their unlikely pupils. Lumberling watched from the hill above, arms crossed, as his world took another step forward. One windmill, one spark of mana, one unlikely alliance at a time. ..... Later, as the sun dipped low and the training grounds echoed with shouted commands, Skitz approached. He found Lumberling near the windmill, tightening bolts on a gear assembly scavenged from a broken cart. "My Lord," he said, unusually serious. "We need to send a unit to guard the second base in the deep forest. It’s been over a week since we left. No captains, no leadership, our soldiers who we left there will start losing discipline." Lumberling set his wrench down with a sigh. He looked toward the training grounds, where the captains were sparring under the elves’ instruction. They’d only just started magic training. Pulling anyone out now would stunt their growth. He rubbed his jaw, running through names in his head, Takkar, Grokk, Aren. Maybe one of them could be spared. ’Damn it. I need more leaders.’ He was already weighing options for appointing a temporary captain to cover the absence. But before he could speak, Skitz stepped forward. "Send me," the goblin said, voice steady. Gone was his usual grin, replaced by something resolute. Lumberling blinked. "You? What about your magic training? You were the most eager to learn." "I still am," Skitz admitted. "But now’s not the time. I think... I’m close." ’Close?’ Lumberling frowned. "Close to what?" His eyes narrowing, then it hit him. "Wait... you don’t mean..." Skitz’s mouth split into a familiar grin. "I think I’m on the verge of evolving again." Lumberling froze. ’Again? Already?’ He scanned Skitz’s face, searching for any sign of a joke, but there was none. Just quiet confidence. ’If he’s right... that changes things.’ A small smile crept into Lumberling’s lips. ’So you’ve been feeling it too. That subtle pressure, that boiling just beneath the skin. The body stretching toward something more.’ He gave a slow nod. "Alright," he said. "Take a full squad, everyone except the captains, vice-captains, and those with talent in magic. Continue their body training over there. Keep discipline tight." Skitz gave a crisp nod. "We’ll leave tomorrow. Once I’m done, I’ll return for magic. You’ll teach me then, yeah?" "You bet," Lumberling replied. "And I’ll expect you to come back stronger." As Skitz turned to leave, Lumberling watched his back, a quiet pride welling in his chest. ’He’s growing faster than I expected... One day, he might even surpass me.’ A small smile tugged at his lips. He turned back to his tools, the gears and bolts waiting, though his thoughts lingered elsewhere. .... The Next Morning The sun had barely crested the canopy when Skitz and his chosen units gathered at the edge of the village. Packs were strapped, weapons checked, and farewells murmured between comrades. The air smelled of moss and iron. Lumberling stood before them, hands clasped behind his back, eyes sweeping across the assembled ranks. Archers, militia, hunters, scouts, elite squads, and boar cavalry, each unit now clad in full armor, salvaged and looted from Earl Cedric. Off to the side, the captains stood at attention, silent observers of the moment. Skitz, unusually composed, stood at the front, his one dagger sheathed, his gaze fixed forward. Lumberling stepped up onto a flat stone. The murmurs faded. All eyes turned to him. "You all know why you’re heading out," he began, voice steady but carrying across the clearing. "The second base must stand strong. It’s not just a camp, it’s our foothold in the deep wilds. What you build there will decide whether we endure or vanish." His gaze swept the ranks. "I won’t give you flowery words. You’ve all fought, bled, and endured more than any army I’ve ever seen. What I ask now is simple: continue. Train harder. Watch each other’s backs. Survive, and return stronger." He paused. "Skitz will lead you. Treat his orders as mine. You all know what he’s capable of... and what he’s still becoming." The soldiers nodded in silent understanding. Lumberling raised a hand in farewell. "May the path rise to meet you, and the forest remember your strength." Skitz gave him a small grin, then turned, raising a clawed fist. The troops echoed the gesture and began marching toward the deeper forest. A while later. The elves stood not far from the clearing, observing in quiet curiosity. As the last soldier vanished into the underbrush, Aurelya tilted her head toward Lumberling. "Where are they going?" she asked, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "To the deeper forest," Lumberling replied, still watching the tree line. "They’ll train harder out there, face real danger, fight monsters, and temper themselves through struggle." Aurelya hummed thoughtfully, but said nothing more. It was Thessalia who broke the silence, arms crossed beside her. "Why do they follow you like that?" she asked, tone sharp but not hostile. "That spider, the Abyssal Webcaller, Shade. That brutish gnoll, Grokk. That odd goblin who talks like a human, Skitz. Even the wolves. Why are they so loyal to you?" The question drew the attention of Vaenyra, who’d been silent nearby. Her expression was neutral, but her pointed ears twitched slightly, betraying her interest. Lumberling turned to face them. "Who knows?" he replied with a small smile. Thessalia cutely frowned at that, clearly annoyed by the evasion. "Come on," Aurelya added, stepping closer. "You didn’t use some kind of charm spell, right? We’ve seen coercion before, but this is... different." Lumberling shrugged. "Maybe I did." But then Vaenyra finally spoke, voice soft yet firm. "How did you do it?" He met her eyes, and the moment he saw the flicker of genuine curiosity there, he realized he couldn’t dodge the question. Vaenyra took a step forward. "I’ve seen nobles command fear. I’ve seen mages command awe. But I’ve never seen monsters, beasts, follow someone with that kind of... devotion. It’s not natural. So how?" Lumberling held her gaze, then finally spoke. "I don’t order loyalty," he said quietly. "I earn it. I’ve shared meals with them. Fought beside them. Bled with them. I lead from the mud, the blood, and the fire. That’s where trust is forged. Not in commands, but in shared burdens." He looked toward the forest, where Skitz had vanished into the green. "They’re not just soldiers. They’re comrades. We grow together. You don’t have to be human to recognize respect." For a long moment, no one replied. Then Vaenyra gave a slow nod. "I understand," she said simply. There was something different in her eyes now, something that wasn’t quite admiration, but wasn’t far from it either. No one else spoke. And though the clearing was empty, a quiet certainty lingered in the air, like roots spreading beneath the soil, unseen but unshakable.