Chapter 33: Pettiness at its Finest!

Chapter 33 - Pettiness at its Finest!'Damn. I knew this guy picked the countryside, but this?' Rae clung to Alex's leather armor like a baby koala on a caffeine high, his tiny goblin legs flailing helplessly on either side of a horse that felt more like a war elephant in disguise. Every step the beast took rattled his green backside like a maraca in a mariachi band. 'How the hell is this thing harder than the floor I sleep on?!' It was Rae's first time on a horse. First time outside the house, actually. And it showed. He bounced with every hoofbeat like a sack of poorly-packed potatoes, praying to whatever god gave him this dumb quest that he wouldn't fall and break something vital—like his pride. He'd seen flashes from the original Rae's memories. Apparently, Alex didn't choose to live near the capital like the other heroes who were too in love with politics, parties, and palace gossip. Nah, Alex asked for somewhere "peaceful." And boy, did he deliver. The road ahead stretched like a painting—lush greenery on either side, flowers dancing in the wind, birds chirping like they were auditioning for a Disney reboot. The roads were paved. The sidewalks were spotless. Even the cows looked like they had a skincare routine. The houses were big, but not "rich noble with a god complex" big. Just humble, wholesome family big. There were cats napping on fences, kids chasing chickens, and even a goat chewing aggressively on someone's laundry with all the confidence of a mob boss. Rae blinked. '...Okay, I get it, Alex. You win this round.' For the first time since waking up in this weird new world with a body that belonged in a Halloween prank, Rae had to admit—this? This wasn't so bad. No nosey nobles, no demon kings (yet), and no one trying to murder him in his sleep. Just grass, fresh air, and the occasional horse-induced spinal realignment. 'Heaven.' If heaven included saddle sores. But not everyone was basking in the bliss of birdsong and countryside serenity. Somewhere behind the stoic hero façade, a man was slowly being driven insane. "Can you stop pulling on my shirt for one goddamn second?!" Alex barked, whipping his head around so fast you'd think he'd caught a whiff of goblin fart. Old Rae—the sniveling, groveling Rae—would've shriveled like a grape in the desert. But this Rae? This Rae just blinked at him with the innocent defiance of a toddler holding a knife. "Raedon no hold—Raedon fall. Raedon fall—Saar angry. Raedon hold—Saar still angry. Whad do do?" He threw up his hands like a dramatic soap opera wife who just caught her husband with the neighbor's sheep. Alex glared at him, his jaw tightening like he was physically grinding down the patience of a saint into fine powder. Then, without a word, he turned his head back to the road and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a death threat to the gods. "Hmph." No way in hell was he about to use brain cells trying to decode whatever dialect Rae had just spoken. His options were: argue with the gremlin or survive the journey without developing an ulcer. He chose ulcer-free silence. Rae, for his part, bit his lip to keep from laughing. 'That's right, bitch. Shut up and ride. I'm your emotional support goblin now.' He won this round. Or at least, that's what Rae thought—right up until Alex suddenly yanked the reins like a man possessed. The horse responded like it had been trained for war. It reared back, hooves in the air, neighing dramatically like they were charging into battle instead of trotting through suburbia. Alex, having actual footing, rode the jump like a seasoned cowboy. Rae, on the other hand? Not so lucky. The goblin barely had a prayer. His only anchor was Alex's leather armor, and when the horse launched itself, Rae went airborne. For a brief, glorious second, he was flying like a tiny, confused green angel. Then came the descent. Gravity did what gravity does—and Rae's twig and berries paid the price. He landed with all the grace of a sack of wet potatoes, his crotch slamming down on the saddle horn with surgical precision. "Hmmppppppppffff!" It wasn't a scream. It wasn't a grunt. It was the muffled cry of a man whose entire lineage had just filed a complaint. He leaned forward like a dying plant, eyes bulging, face green—okay, greener—and hands protectively cradling his shattered legacy. Alex didn't look back. He didn't need to. The sudden silence followed by that high-pitched noise was enough. A low, satisfied chuckle rumbled from his chest. Rae, hunched over and cradling his goblin goods, glared at the back of the man's smug head. 'Bastard... I won't forget this... My children... my lineage...' He whimpered internally while gently massaging his now thoroughly humbled jewels. For the next two hours, not a word was spoken. The goblin who'd once been basking in the beauty of nature now sulked like a kid denied dessert. Meanwhile, the grumpy hero from earlier was suddenly a different man—humming tunelessly, waving at passersby, and every so often, sneaking a smug little glance over his shoulder. And smirking. Round one: Alex (1) Rae (0). . . . We are contracted now, guys. Hoooray! Sent in your love for this divine art!