Only Villains Do That

“What the hell is all this?”

“It was left outside the fortress first thing this morning,” Minifrit explained, as always striking that off-center pose that accentuated her hips and pausing to blow theatrical streamers of smoke. “The sentries reported that members of the cat tribe placed all this on the road in front of the gates. Quickly, not responding to hails or challenges, and then ran back into the forest. Kasser has looked over everything.”

She turned to Kasser expectantly, and he took over, straightening up from where he’d briefly knelt to pick up and examine some shells.

“It’s all good stuff, Lord Seiji,” he said, dropping the piece of akornin back into the basket it had come from. “Really good quality. The shells are in the biggest pieces they can be, right off the animal, and they’re all properly cured, ready to be worked. We’ve got some that are suitable for making armor; the rest Harold can carve into basically whatever we need. Tools, nails, blades… And this akorshil, see? They didn’t send much, but this stuff is rare. It’s…well, it isn’t all that useful, because of how soft it is, but shachshil like this is quite valuable. These khora only grow wild, never in plantations. Mostly used for decorative carving. Pretty expensive on the markets, which I assume the cats knew.”

He was all but salivating at this haul. I watched Junko investigating the fascinating smells among the baskets and gave him a moment after he trailed off, looking back at the various shells, before clearing my throat.

“And…the rest?”

“Oh!” Kasser ducked his shoulders awkwardly, having been caught indulging his passion for shell-carving while on the clock. “Uh, yeah, the rest of it is also good quality. We’ve got some nice pelts—looks like elk, dhawun, and wolf. Even some pieces of nheichol leather, which is nice stuff.” He bent to pick up what looked like the skin of an enormous snake, observed my nonplussed expression, and continued explaining. “Very flexible, airtight, and really tough for how thin it is. Good stuff, also pricey. Nheichols are hard to hunt on Dount, they live in lizardfolk territory. I suspect the cats traded for this. That one’s full of blankets. Oh, and the baskets themselves are pretty solid. It’s a decent haul, all around.”

I bent to pick up one of the blankets, unfolding it. For some reason I’d been expecting something reminiscent of Native American blankets I’d seen pictures of, which I immediately realized was pretty stupid. Obviously a completely different culture on a different planet would have different artistic sensibilities, not to mention different materials. The cat tribe’s weaving was almost…impressionistic, that was the word. They used a combination of quilting with curved pieces of fabric and embroidered patterns on top to create abstract, organic-looking designs with no straight lines or angles. The one I held up used patches and thread in different shades of light blue against dark gray background pieces.

“That’s really beautiful,” said Aster, sounding surprised.

“I bet it’d also be pricey on the market,” I agreed.

“Yes and no,” said Minifrit, exhaling a spicy-sweet cloud. “Some highborn collect and display tribal art. Lowborn who are caught with it risk being accused of consorting with beastfolk. The suggestion alone can suffice to have their property and possibly their freedom confiscated.”

“One day,” I complained. “I’d just like to go one day without learning a fresh reason Fflyr Dlemathlys sucks. Anyway, the important question is why did they feel the need to bring us a pile of gifts? You don’t suppose it’s all dusted with poison or something?”

“I would not expect to see any such aggression out of that tribe in the near future,” Minifrit said dryly.

“It’s tribute, boss,” Biribo explained. “Remember? You told the cats this was now your land and they could live here at your sufferance. That girl we talked to made a point about how she didn’t have any authority, but I’d interpret this as the message being conveyed back to the tribe and your terms accepted. So, like they used to demand tribute from the North Watch gang, now they’re sending it to you.”

“I didn’t ask them for…” I dragged a hand down my face. “Crap. I specifically wanted to start mending fences, not kick them around further.”

“Lord Seiji, I think it’s worth considering what they didn’t send us,” Kasser said. “When Rocco was in charge and dealing with them, they mostly wanted stuff that could be bought in Fflyr markets, and mostly food. Nothing they sent us is edible. After the Inferno… I mean, their stores can’t have been completely wiped out if they had all this stuff to give us, but they may be hard up for food. Especially with the winter coming on.”

I drew in a deep, slow breath and blew it out all at once. “All right. Well, we already figured the tribes were going to be in bad shape after that. The plan was to reach out to them all and let the local cats come to us, but… I think I better pay them a visit first and straighten this out.”

“If nothing else, they’re closest,” Aster agreed. “It’ll be a handy trial run for when you have to deal with other tribes who don’t yet know they should be afraid of you.”

“Lord Seiji!” Madyn burst out of the fortress in a panic, already yelling and waving as she skittered into the courtyard where we were gathered around the tribute baskets. “We need you! The kitchen! It’s the goblins!”

“What the fuck now,” I growled, but was already in a dead run past her rather than waiting for an answer. There was nothing she could explain that I wouldn’t figure out when I got there, and given how unflappable Madyn was in general, whatever was going on was clearly too urgent to stand around out here chatting about it. Aster and Junko, of course, fell into step beside and just behind me, leaving the others to follow more discreetly.

In the mess hall I could already hear distant yelling from the kitchen. People were naturally gravitating in that direction; just as naturally, they cleared out of the way when the Dark Lord came tearing through, accompanied by his dog and bodyguard. Both had to fall behind me as I entered the narrow corridor to the kitchen, but seconds later we all emerged into a scene of what I could only call barely restrained pandemonium.

Restrained only because violence was not currently occurring, though it clearly had and just as clearly was about to. Two goblins stood in front of the open door to the tunnel, both holding swords, but they were raising their hands above their heads in a peaceable gesture—somewhat spoiled by the fact that neither had put the swords down. Gannit loomed nearby, snarling and brandishing both a frying pan and cleaver in a clear display of her opinion of this intrusion into her kitchen. The only thing separating her from the goblins were three women pointing loaded crossbows at them, shouting muddled and contradictory orders to disarm, leave, and surrender.

“There he is!” exclaimed one of the intruders, waving eagerly at me—with the hand not holding a sword, fortunately for him. “Dark Lord Seiji! This is all a misunderstanding!”

I ignored him. Streaks and tracks of blood led from the tunnel entrance into the middle of the kitchen, where the bedraggled form of a goblin I recognized lay facedown on the floor amid a spreading crimson pool.

“Heal!” I barked, pointing.

Nothing. Invalid target. Slowly, I lowered my hand and shifted my stare from the body of Maugro the information broker to the goblins still on their feet.

“Okay, it doesn’t look great,” said the speaker, grinning at me. He grinned at me. “Listen, everything’s—”

Junko charged past my legs barking viciously and snapping her jaws centimeters from the intruders. That made the impression even the armed women hadn’t; I’d observed that goblins were terrified of Junko even when she was being friendly. Both yelped and scurried away to the corner, one dropping his sword in the process.

Bad move. You never run from an aggressive dog.

I whistled sharply as she started to lunge and Junko froze, then turned and obediently trotted back to stand next to my legs, still growling a warning but no longer about to go for the kill.

Then, before anyone else could speak, the half-ajar door was kicked wider, and Donon emerged from the tunnel. His face was stricken and streaked with tears, and in his arms was another little green body, dripping fresh blood on my floor.

“Heal,” I tried, already suspecting…

“It’s too late, Lord Seiji,” Donon choked. He stood there as if lost, just cradling Mindzi’s lifeless form as it failed to react to the spell. Her head lolled over his arm, vacant red eyes staring at the ceiling. “I…I tried to… Before I even got there…”

Madyn had followed the rest of us into the kitchen and now stepped up, gently taking Donon by one of his fully occupied arms and pulling him away. He let himself be led, seeming to lack volition of his own.

I drew in a deep, steadying breath and expelled it slowly. Well, how about that. Goblin blood smelled the same as human.

“Explain,” I ordered.

Both goblins immediately started babbling over each other, gesticulating wildly. Then Junko let out a bark that echoed deafeningly from the bare kitchen walls and they just as quickly fell silent, pressing themselves back against the corner.

“So we were minding our own business, doing the cleanup after breakfast,” Gannit said into the ensuing lull, “and there was this horrible yelling and banging from the goblin door, there. Sounded like a fight, so I stopped Donon from opening it and yelled for backup. These three came in from the mess hall, seems they were the only ones in there who had weapons on ‘em.” She nodded at the women still covering the goblins with crossbows, one of whom nodded back. “As they were coming in, the door busted open and that guy there, Maugro, he comes stumbling in all beaten and cut to shreds, with those two fuckers in the middle of goin’ at him with those swords. Well, the crossbows scared ‘em off doin’ that quick enough. Maugro says something about saving Mindzi back in the tunnel, and fucking Donon goes runnin’ in there like the suicidal goddamn numbnut he is.”

The old woman paused, grimacing, then took a step over to Donon and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. He had just set Mindzi on the floor next to Maugro and didn’t react, just staring vacantly at the ground. Poor guy, he was taking this a lot harder than I’d have expected. We all knew Donon had a thing for goblin ladies, but apparently he was nursing a serious crush on Mindzi in particular.

“Good man,” Gannit said in a slightly rougher voice, then cleared her throat and turned back to me. “Anyway. Madyn went runnin’ out to find you at some point during that, and we got this under control in here, and…well, you’re caught up.”

I looked at the bodies, at the living goblins, and then swept my stare around the kitchen, looking for a particular barrel in the corner which was conspicuously absent.

“Gannit, where is the healing slime that belongs in this kitchen?”

She grimaced again. “Loaned it to Khadret for morning practice. The sword drilling group needed an extra, they keep breaking each other’s fingers or some shit. Anyway, we were just doing cleanup; if all three of us get hurt badly enough by washing dishes that we can’t walk into the mess hall to use the slime in there, we don’t deserve to live.”

“And look what happened,” I snapped. Gannit actually looked abashed, which was something I’d never expected to see. “Get your slime back and keep it in here. If anybody else needs a spare, they can come ask me. It’s not like my supply is limited. This is the room where you work with knives, fire, and hot oil. The kitchen healing slime stays in the kitchen.”

Gannit opened her mouth, shut it, then nodded once, avoiding my eyes. That was as close to an apology as I ever expected to get out of the old woman, and I didn’t consider it worth pressing for more. She deserved to keep some pride, and I didn’t care to open a discussion about our respective recent fuckups and how many people they’d gotten killed.

Instead, I paced forward, every step slow and controlled, until I stood between two of the armed women keeping our uninvited guests under control. My expression remained carefully neutral. I almost resented squandering the effort on these little fuckers in particular, but showtime was showtime. Besides, showtime was helping me keep control over the rising tide of rage which I could feel pounding up the back of my throat.

I stared at each of them in turn, in total silence, for a slow count of four each. Then I put on a tiny little smile.

“This had better be very good.”

The first goblin, the one who seemed to be the speaker between them, grinned and adjusted his lapels in a gesture that reminded me strikingly of Maugro, which definitely didn’t work in his favor.

“Lord Seiji? First of all, sorry about the rough introduction, there. That was supposed to be a quick, discreet job; it was purely our fault that we lost control and it spilled into your kitchen. You have my personal apologies, and my promise to make it right. I represent the interests of the Goblin King, who you can rest assured wants only the most amicable relations with the new Dark Lord.”

Goddammit, they knew. Well, if they’d killed Maugro and chased him all the way in here—in that order, somehow—it was undoubtedly for a reason, and it made sense that they knew at least some of what he knew. Why else would you go after an information broker?

There was a lot of other stuff in that handful of sentences I didn’t like, apart from the goblin speaking. I could already tell he was the most annoying kind of person: socially adroit enough to be suave and charming, but not enough to realize when being suave and charming is the absolute last thing you should do. One minute in and this guy was already reminding me of every dipshit tourist in Akiba who condescendingly complimented my English.

“Make it right,” I repeated, speaking slowly and enunciating. “So you can raise the dead? Impressive.”

“C’mon, now,” he said with a disarming grin that very nearly earned him a kick in the throat. “I know you weren’t on close, personal terms with Maugro. Dude’s habit of keepin’ everybody at arm’s length is ninety percent of the reason this ended the way it did for him. Don’t get me wrong, playin’ every end against the middle is solid practice in normal goblin society, but he shoulda known better than to try that with a Goblin King in charge. But don’t worry, Lord Seiji! King Jadrak has nothing but respect for you and wants to be on the best terms. We, ah, we weren’t exactly s’posed to be initiating contact today, but I do know for a fact the Goblin King will wanna offer anything reasonable to smooth over this little kerfuffle here.”

“Little—” Donon started to surge forward, but Aster blocked his way and Madyn grabbed him from behind by both shoulders. Neither were doing enough to physically restrain him, but he stopped, at least.

I probably should have asked him to absent himself from what was now first diplomatic contact with a new rival power, but fuck it. He and Junko were projecting exactly the impression I wanted right now, and nothing Donon did would make this go any worse than the direction I was leaning toward sending it myself.

“So, there’s a Goblin King?” I said, keeping my tone and expression mild. “First I’ve heard about it.”

“There is now,” replied the more talkative of the two goblins, while his silent companion kept a wary eye on Junko. “Things are changing in the tunnels, Lord Seiji. I dunno how much the goblins you’ve met have told you, but with power consolidated, a Goblin King is in a position to be a real asset to a new Dark Lord. Jadrak wants to meet you and talk terms as soon as possible.”

“So I see,” I replied with a pleasant smile, “considering he seems eager to kill off any possible rivals for my attention, including in my fucking kitchen.”

“Now, now, let’s not exaggerate,” he chided me, grinning and wagging a finger. The rising tide of rage bubbled ever hotter, and only my pure commitment to showmanship saved his life in that moment. “I already said this spilled outta control, and I was serious about offering reasonable restitution for your inconvenience. But, these events were initiated and brought to an effective conclusion on goblin turf and outside yours. Maugro barely had enough life left to stagger in here after he got the door open. Technically, all this was still goblin business by the time it got to you.”

Technically.

He grinned broadly up at me as if he had just settled the matter to everyone’s satisfaction. The other one still didn’t chime in, but put on a similar smile. Like they had scored some kind of victory with this.

White hot fury filled me with manic energy that demanded an outlet. I was either going to vibrate apart in my own boots, slaughter everyone in this room, or…

I matched his grin, and allowed a chuckle to escape me. Clearly taking that as encouragement, the goblins exchanged a glance between them and then chortled right along with me. Ha ha, look at us lads just having a giggle over a couple of corpses.

It never ended. They kept doing this. The five murdered Rats, the seizure of the Alley Cat, the raid on North Watch… Why did all these fuckers think they could push me around? How many forests did I need to burn down before all the assholes in this wretched little ruin of a planet learned not to fuck with me?

My pulse hammered in my throat so hard I wouldn’t have been surprised if the vein was visible. Rage swirled in me, like fire and lightning, my whole body practically vibrating. The laughter rose in pitch and intensity. The goblins mirrored me, guffawing and slapping each other’s shoulders with increasing enthusiasm as we all shared a good chuckle over this.

By that point, everyone else in the kitchen was staring at me with varying degrees of confusion and alarm, including Junko. I let it flow, for the moment, just riding the energy. Why it expressed itself through laughter I couldn’t have said, but hey, it seemed to fit the setting. I was the Dark Lord, after all, and isn’t it an established thing for villains to laugh uncontrollably when something horrible and not at all funny has occurred?

The goblins continued to match me, and if their own laughter was an act I was pretty sure I saw the relief behind it. We all three brayed in mirth, partially doubling over and struggling for breath, all while I cackled through flashes of all the fucking bullshit I’d endured from people like this who thought they could come to my place and push me.

Cat Alley, awash in blood. Gray’s thugs chasing me across the Gutters and all the way into the river. Virya twisting me like a fidget toy just to prove she could.

Kastrin falling off the wall.

I snatched the crossbow from the woman next to me and shot the second goblin through the skull.

The weapon wrenched itself out of my hand, of course, one arm nearly whanging me on the temple. It was one of the bigger military models, designed for punching through armor; the recoil was enough of a bastard when you weren’t stupid enough to fire it one-handed. I got off lightly, relatively speaking. The goblin hit the wall behind him with as much a splatter as a thump. As I’d observed when educating the cats on my philosophy of justice, at this range these things made almost as much of a mess as an actual gun.

All laughter in the room was cut off as if by a switch, the surviving goblin—the smarmy one who liked to talk—reacting with impressive speed and precision. Of course, his dash for the door wouldn’t have worked; Junko would’ve grabbed him if nobody else did first. Needless to say, it did not get to that point.

Immolate.

Down he went in a shrieking fireball, causing Junko to abort her lunge at him; she had better sense than to charge headlong into a source of pure flame.

That made one of us.

My whole body still resonating with furious energy like a plucked guitar string, I stepped deliberately over to one kitchen counter, picked up one of Gannit’s heavy oven mitts, and slipped it on. Everyone silently got out of my way; Aster opened her mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it. The goblin still had a good burn going, probably just about to crest the bell curve into the stage where the healing magic would begin to overtake the fire, when I reached him again.

Bending, I grabbed him by the neck with my mitt-covered hand. The heat was intense nearly to the point of pain—these things were not designed for this—and hoisting someone half the size of an adult human with one hand was not easy, even after my months of exercise and training. Neither fact made a difference, the haze of adrenaline and sheer rage pushing me right through the heat on my skin and the strain in my muscles as I stood, hauling the burning goblin fully up into the air.

“You come into my home,” I snarled, stalking over to the tunnel door. “You murder one of my allies, burst into my kitchen, and then you have the absolute fucking gall to plead innocence on a fucking technicality?”

I had never been in the goblin tunnel before; it was dark and unsurprisingly cramped, though the ceiling wasn’t as low as I would have expected. I only had to hunch over slightly. Stepping inside, I threw the goblin to the ground, shadows flickering across the walls as they were cast and distorted by the flames emanating from his bouncing body.

He was definitely on the descent by that point. I discarded the oven mitt—which was still on fire—and cast a quick Heal against the burns I’d inflicted on my own hand doing that, then folded my arms and waited.

“I have a message for the Goblin King,” I stated the instant the intruder was no longer actively on fire, not giving him even a second to recuperate.

“Yeah, of course,” he wheezed, peering up at me through panicked red eyes and nodding vigorously. “I’ll tell him whatever you want!”

“No, no. You are the message.”

Summon Fire Slime, Tame Beast.

He was immediately howling again, trying to roll away and swat at the burning slime which I had just conjured right on his coat. The sole command with which I imbued it was to cling and resist attempts to dislodge it.

I stuck two more fire slimes to him for good measure, then strode back into the kitchen and slammed the tunnel door.

It wasn’t silent, what with all the screaming from just behind that door barely muffled by the thin layer of akorshil planks separating us from it. But, under the combined shocked stares of those present, it felt like a silence.

“Kasser,” I said.

“L-lord Seiji?” he replied hesitantly.

“I want this door barricaded as soon as you can get it done. Take whatever you need from the supplies, this is currently priority one. Someone find me Naz—ah, perfect timing.”

The elf herself poked her head into the kitchen at that moment, no doubt drawn by all the noise. Her expression was confused and alarmed, as she had missed the action but could plainly see all the corpses and hear the ongoing screaming from just inside the tunnel.

“We’ve lost our convenient goblin contacts, and you’re the only one I’m aware of who knows another entrance to the goblin tunnels. Maugro is gone, but some of his employees may have escaped. You mentioned meeting another guy who works for him, right? I need somebody to try to make contact. If not with them, than with someone in Sneppit’s organization. Supposedly she’s a pretty big deal down there.”

“I…uh, yes, but that’s way over by Flynswyth, Lord Seiji. Near the eastern edge. It’s an all-day ride from here at best speed, three times that on foot.”

“Then you’d better move quickly. It’s still safer and likelier than that pub in Gwyllthean. Bring along whoever and whatever you judge necessary and don’t take risks. Avoid human contact and if the only goblins you can find answer to the Goblin King, report back.”

“Okay, this is on me,” Biribo interrupted before she could answer. “My bad, everybody. I definitely should’ve explained a lot more about goblin society to you, boss. I mean, it’s not like anybody else here would’ve known. It’s just… You tend to glaze over, y’know? If I just front-load you with details most of ‘em disappear by the next time we talk. I’ve learned to answer questions as they come up and try to brief you on the fly whenever anything seems like it’s gonna be important soon. Not that I’m blaming you! This is a problem for all the Champions who get brought here. A whole world’s worth of information is way too much to dump on anybody at one time; context and significance are really important for memory retention. But, uh, after this I think we better start having regular tutoring sessions or something. You clearly need a more thorough grounding in Ephemeral politics or we’re gonna keep bouncing from one mess like this to another.”

“Biribo,” I said, gathering up every last flickering ember of patience within my being, “I can tell you’re building up to something I’m not gonna like and trying to soften the blow. Which is appreciated, but I wish you’d just rip the bandage off and be done with it.”

“Right,” he said ruefully. “Well, uh, boss… A barricade isn’t gonna cut it. You just committed us to a war of total annihilation with the Goblin King. This won’t end until one or the other of you is dead and their whole organization destroyed.”

So that was how my day started.