The morning sun crested the eastern cliffs as we set out toward the Devil’s Platter, where the Birdcruncher goblins made their home. I wasn’t sure whether it was the weight of the weapons in my pack or the weight of the task ahead that dug into my shoulders harder. Goblin diplomacy—just saying the phrase felt absurd.

Shalelu led the way, her bow slung over one shoulder and her eyes scanning the trail like a hawk. I stayed close beside her, asking what I could. If I was going to speak with a goblin chieftain, I needed to know the terrain—literal and otherwise.

“They speak Goblin,” she told me, “and I do too. Some might know a bit of Common, especially chiefs or raiders, but don’t count on it.”

That was important to know—I admitted I didn’t speak a word of Goblin. She smirked and went on to explain that their language was all screeches and growls, barely more than barks stacked together with meaning. Most goblins feared dogs and horses, adored fire and explosions, and were superstitious to a fault. They respected strength, or cunning—never kindness. Songs and rhymes could distract them, but nothing held their loyalty except fear or greed.

In short: perfect diplomatic partners.

It took several hours to reach the Devil’s Platter. The cliffs rose like broken teeth from the earth, wrapped in curling mist. We slowed as the terrain narrowed and the rocks grew slick. Shalelu raised a hand, signaling caution. “If they’re still in the caves,” she murmured, “they’ll see us before we see them. Let’s hope they’re in the mood to talk.”

Lucian rested his hand on his rapier and smirked. “Cousin, do you think they’ll be happy to see us? Or are we about to get spears thrown at our heads?”
“I’ll settle for curious enough not to attack immediately,” I muttered back.

We crept forward, rounding the stone edge that marked the approach to the cave mouth. The entrance was narrow, choked in shadow and mist. No guards, no noise. But I could feel the eyes.

Shalelu stepped forward and called out in Goblin, her voice sharp and commanding. “Birdcrunchers! We come to trade, not to fight. Show yourselves!”
For a long moment, nothing.

Then came the movement—shadows slipping through the rocks, small yellow eyes gleaming in the gloom.
They were here. They were listening.

36. Goblin Negotiation

Shapes moved between the rocks like whispers of shadow, yellow eyes glinting from the gloom. I could feel the weight of a dozen stares before Shalelu gave the translation.

"They’re asking what we brought."

Lucian murmured beside me, just low enough that only I could hear. "Cousin, I really hope this goes well. Because I do not want to be killed by a goblin today."

I stepped forward, raising my voice so it would carry across the canyon. "We come with superior weapons to trade for information! We might have more items if trading goes well. We need to speak to your chieftain!"

More goblin eyes peeked from behind rocks, whispering in their harsh, chattering tongue. Shalelu tilted her head, listening. Finally, she turned toward me, her expression carefully neutral.

"They say the chieftain will see us," she said. "But only you and one other may enter."

She glanced at Lucian, and he raised an eyebrow at me.

"Well, cousin? Who gets to be your second in this little diplomatic endeavor?"

I gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Lucian. I need Shalelu to translate. Hang out here and try to look as non-threatening as possible. If I get into trouble in there... come and rescue me."

Lucian sighed and made a show of dramatically leaning against a rock. "Ah, yes. Left outside with the twitchy archers and the stale mountain air. Don’t have too much fun without me."

I turned to Shalelu and picked up the bundle of weapons we’d prepared. "Tell me we aren’t about to get killed. It'll make me feel better about this."

She gave a wry smile. "We probably aren't. But let’s keep our hands where they can see them. Goblins aren’t known for restraint."

The goblins led us into the caves, and I was immediately struck by the smell—an unholy blend of damp fur, smoke, and spoiled meat. The tunnels twisted downward, torchlight flickering off the rock. Goblins flitted just out of sight, their movements erratic and twitchy. Eventually, we reached a larger chamber, lit by guttering fire pits and surrounded by crude decorations—bones, rusty weapons, feathers, and rags.

At the far end, perched atop a leaning mound of debris and scavenged junk, sat the goblin chieftain himself: Chief Gutwad. He was wiry, with massive ears, painted in red war markings, and grinning like a cat who’d cornered a bird.

He barked something in Goblin, loud and sharp.

"He wants to know," Shalelu translated, "why a longshanks dares to bring gifts instead of fire."

I gave my best courtly bow—the one I used for noble halls back in Oppara. "The longshanks of Sandpoint send their greetings and respect to the mighty Gutwad, Chief of the Birdcrunchers. I am Cassian Valerius, and I have been given the great honor of treating with you, Chief of the Birdcrunchers, in order to establish trade between us. It is known that the Birdcrunchers have excellent scouts and are cleverest among their folk. We wish to trade goods and perhaps more, for information that will cost you little... and perhaps gain you much."

Shalelu translated, her Goblin fluid and harsh. As she spoke, the goblins around the throne whispered excitedly. Gutwad leaned forward, puffing out his chest at the praise.

He barked something again, and Shalelu smirked as she relayed the message. "He says it's right that the longshanks of Sandpoint recognize his greatness. And he likes that the Birdcrunchers are called cleverer than the other tribes."

Another command from the throne, and a goblin rushed forward, clutching a wooden stick like a scepter.

"He wants to know what you offer," Shalelu said, her voice low, "and what you want in return. But be careful—goblins don’t trust deals that sound too fair. They’ll assume you’re trying to trick them."

I laid the weapons carefully on the stone floor—a shortsword, a short spear, and a crossbow with a handful of bolts. The steel glinted in the torchlight, far finer than anything the goblins wielded. Their eyes widened, drawn to the gleam like moths to flame.

"This is an example of what we offer," I said clearly, addressing Gutwad directly. "Weapons made by our best smiths. We have more, and possibly other goods as well—depending on how our trade goes. What we want is simple: information. Knowledge that will cost you nothing to give, and may win you friends, weapons... even allies."

Gutwad's greedy stare flicked between the weapons and me. He barked something harsh and guttural.

Shalelu tilted her head, listening. "He says: 'Shiny gifts! Birdcrunchers like gifts! Maybe Birdcrunchers trade! Maybe Birdcrunchers get more gifts if trade is good!'"

I nodded slowly. "Then let us begin."

I bowed again with all the dignity I could muster. "Great chieftain, it has come to our ears that several of the other goblin tribes in this region—those skulking, cowardly fools—have banded together. But strangely, they have not included the Birdcrunchers. We longshanks of Sandpoint believe that can only mean one thing: the Birdcrunchers are too clever to fall for such foolishness. And so, we come to ask you: who has drawn the other tribes together, and to what end?"

I offered a slow smile. "My cousin waits outside with more gifts like these. All we ask in return is truth. And if that goes well... perhaps there is more we can offer, in time."

Gutwad's beady eyes narrowed, and his mouth twisted into a snarl. When he spoke, his voice rose with anger. Shalelu stood very still as she translated.

"You struck a nerve," she said quietly. "He says the other tribes turned on the Birdcrunchers. A longshanks woman came to them—promising fire, gifts, and power. The others followed her. The Birdcrunchers did not."

My stomach clenched.

"She wasn't human," Shalelu went on. "Not anymore. Gutwad says she had fire in her eyes. She spoke of old things waking up. Of Sandpoint burning. The Thistletop goblins followed her first. Then the rest."

Fire in her eyes. My mind leapt back to the cathedral ruins, to the riddle burned into my thoughts. Lucian's voice echoed in memory: What was taken from below?

I looked up at Gutwad and bowed once more. "This is disturbing news, and I thank you for your honesty, Gutwad the Wise. The other tribes have betrayed you, just as this fire-eyed woman has betrayed all longshanks. If Sandpoint falls, she will not spare you. She will enslave or destroy you. But if we stand together—you and Sandpoint—we might turn the tide. Win the war. And when it ends, you will not be cast aside. You will have your pick of the best lands, your enemies broken, your tribe triumphant."

Gutwad said nothing yet—but I saw the fire kindling behind those yellow eyes. He was thinking.

Gutwad leaned back in his crooked throne, long fingers drumming against splintered wood. Around him, the gathered goblins whispered, their voices a chorus of greed and suspicion. I could see it in their eyes—the notion of the other tribes lording over them stung, but the promise of new land? That lit a fire.
He barked something sharp in Goblin. Shalelu listened, then turned to me, her voice low.

"He says you are clever—for a longshanks. He doesn't trust Sandpoint, but he trusts the stupidity of the other goblins less. He accepts the deal: the Birdcrunchers will stay out of the fighting. But if Sandpoint wins... he wants the Licktoads' lands."

I inclined my head in respect. "You have proven to be very wise, Chief Gutwad. Trust is a dangerous game—a double-edged sword that can cut both ways. I believe Mayor Deverin will agree to your terms."

Gutwad gave a bark of laughter, pounding one gnarled fist on his throne. The goblins hooted in reply, a chittering riot of mischief and celebration. Shalelu translated again with a smirk."He says you speak like a goblin. He likes that."

I met the chief's gaze and offered just a hint more.

"Still... why settle for the Licktoads' swamp? Remain neutral and the spoils of war are one thing. But aid us directly? Who knows what else might come your way. Thistletop, perhaps. Something better. There's time to consider."

Gutwad's grin stretched wider, the firelight glinting off his jagged teeth. He said nothing more—just nodded, slowly and greedily.

As Shalelu and I turned to leave, I gestured toward the goblin guards and pointed to the bundle Lucian had left just outside the entrance. "These are for you, Chief. With Sandpoint's compliments."

I murmured to Shalelu, "Let’s be on our way before he changes his mind. My grandfather always said, 'When you get the answer you want, shut up and leave.'"

Outside, Lucian was already leaning against a rock, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. "Well, cousin? Friends? Enemies?"

"Both," I said, brushing dust from my cloak. "But for now? Allies will do."