Chapter 10 (Bard)

When platters of food appeared in front of me with pint-sized flagons of sweet, aromatic booze, I thanked the system. It could’ve plopped the final trial on my lap instead of letting me relax, but it didn’t. Instead, I got the opportunity to dig into a plate full of unrecognisable meat, potatoes, mushrooms, and pickled cabbage. Back on earth, I hated sauerkraut, but I didn’t mind it as much anymore. It was most probably the overwhelming sourness. Meanwhile, the goblin creation contained sweet aromatic herbs I didn’t recognise, which made it a perfect side dish.

The cook hadn’t done the best job with the potatoes and the meat, unfortunately. The former had turned gluey while the latter felt ridiculously dry. Thankfully, a giant pot of gravy scented with juniper berries made up for it. I spotted better-looking portions sitting on tables, though. I guessed the cook had skill but suffered from consistency issues.

“Anyone can cook a plate of good food,” my old head chef used to say. “You only start becoming a chef when you can produce the same delicious product consistently without sacrificing standards and quality.”

Perhaps bulk had played a role in the cook’s difficulties. I didn’t know how things were in Grog’s Table, but back on Earth, good cooks were in constant short supply. My job as acting sous chef involved ensuring the saps working under me didn’t try to hide mistakes and send out shoddy products. Maybe Grog’s cook suffered similar challenges.

Banquet-like settings were an especially difficult challenge. We didn’t just have to send out consistent products, but everything needed to go out simultaneously. During such circumstances, mistakes with meat were excusable but not the gluey potatoes.

However, after my first day on Arena Disk, I wouldn’t complain even if all I got was stale bread or cold porridge. So, I ate my food with a smile on my face, savouring every bite. Due to the unexpected move across space and time, I’d forgotten about hunger. However, now that I had started eating, the sheer volume of food I could put away surprised me. It felt disproportionate to my size.

“I heard that the hill folk have impressive appetites, but I don’t think I truly believed the magnitude until now.” Gark laughed as I ladled another helping of mushrooms onto my plate. “You could rival the warg master or one of his top goblins.”

“I’ve been living off wild berries for days,” I lied, hoping my hunger was an anomaly. The chances of my new body having never eaten a thing were high. “I’m not being rude, am I?”

“No,” he said. “We goblins respect folk with decent appetites. So if anything, you fit right in. Continue eating like this, and you’ll eventually earn the chance to eat in the main hall with Grog and see his throne up close. That’s a real honour, you know. He’ll get a kick out of seeing a skinny halfling eating his second-in-command under the table.”

Despite the magnitude of Grog’s palace—it certainly didn’t look like one—goblin construction still left me doubtful. The rooms were vast and cavernous and the structure little trouble getting rid of the many fire pits’ smoke. However, the corners between walls appeared rough and uneven. The pillars weren’t properly shaped either. Many of them tapered to alarmingly narrow sections in the middle, threatening collapse. The windows and doors weren’t particularly geometric either. I couldn’t tell whether they had repurposed and expanded natural formations, or they’d used rudimentary magical methods to carve the caverns.

Gark became loose-lipped as he drank, so I used the opportunity to ask him about goblin magic.

“Are you not familiar with the Covenant attunement?” He asked. I didn’t know a thing about the world’s schools of magic or attunements. Once again, it felt like basic knowledge every child grew up knowing.

“My master only taught me about Mind, to be honest. He said it’s a bard’s bread and butter. And we hill folk don’t dabble in magic in our villages. It's all about growing food, preserving, making good ale and tobacco.”

“That makes sense.” Gark drained his mead before continuing. “Covenant magicians literally make covenants with deities, beasts, and spirits of nature. We goblin spirit callers fall into the final category. It’s the weakest, but we can befriend multiple spirits and wield a larger variety of powers. My master helped me befriend the spirits of a Sapling of Life, Berserker Bats, and Enchanting Wisps. It’s not a lot but more than most apprentices.”

“Are there spirit callers with covenants with earth spirits too?” I asked.

“Of course, who do you think carves out our caves and builds the underground homes below the tents? Hunting for an earth spirit is my primary reason for heading into the wild. It won’t just give me defensive capabilities, but I can start making a living outside of my master’s service.”

“Why is an outsider asking so many questions?” A nasal voice called from the neighbouring table. Its owner scowled at me, brushing back a flaccid mohawk of dirty blue hair. “We’ve been having an issue with spies. You’re not one, are you, halfling?”

The hall fell silent. All present goblins and humans had their eyes focused on me. The accusatory goblin wore more clothing than most of them: a fur kilt, bone breastplate and a gauntlet on his right forearm. He picked his kobold-skull helmet off the table as he turned to face me.

“He’s my guest,” Gark said, slurring his words. “If not for him, we wouldn’t have gotten the goats for Wyrm’s Feast. Let him—”

“If I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it, fledgling spirit caller!” The bigger goblin exclaimed. As he rose to his feet, I realised he was much taller than any goblin I had yet encountered. He had more girth around the shoulders too. The rippling muscles under his green skin made him look like a miniature bodybuilder. “Now give me a good enough reason for your presence in Grog’s Table.”

Trial of Wit
One of Chieftain Grog’s commanders questions your presence and intentions.
He’s got a history of tying spies and traitors to wargs before making the canines run in opposite directions. The commander’s words have planted seeds of doubt in everyone’s minds too.
Charm. Convince. Befriend.
Pass the trial to enjoy an influx of Intellect and Charisma.

An audible sigh escaped my lips. I knew it was too good to be true. The system wouldn’t let me relax until all of the trials were out of the way. I had celebrated much too early. At least I could deal with it now on a full—perhaps overstuffed—stomach.

“Spy?” I asked, chuckling. “Did your colleagues not tell you they found me unconscious with nothing but my guitar and the clothes on my back.” I waved at my bloody and ripped shirt. “If not for Gark’s spirits, my squishy body would be in a kobold’s cooking pot by now. Unfortunately, I’m not equipped for much besides barding.”

“We goblins might look stupid, but we’re not!” Spittle flew from the warrior’s mouth, spraying my face. “Every bard in the elders’ tales is a liar, cheat, thief, and spy. How are you any different? My riders found you at our border near the woods where we get our meat for the Wyrm’s Feast.” He looked around the room. “Isn’t that too convenient, green ears?”

Several goblins around the room vocalised their agreement. The few humans and me-sized bald creatures present held their tongues. Involvement would likely lead to questions regarding their loyalty too. I glanced at Gark for help, but the goblin had fallen silent.

“My master and I were on our way to Grog’s Table,” I said, racking my brain. “It’s a stroke of luck Gark found me and helped me out of the wilderness where I’d have died with no weapons or survival skills. Bandits felled everyone—”

“I know that much,” the giant goblin told me.

Gark nudged me hard, almost knocking me out of the chair. I scrambled onto my feet and looked my opponent in the eye. His green knuckles had whitened as he tightly held the kobold skull. The goblin raised the bone helmet and held a horn to my throat.

“Tell me why you were on your way here, or I’ll put this spike through your throat.”

“We bards are first and foremost storytellers and songwriters,” I said, going all-in on my spontaneous gambit. Given their warrior and shaman driven society, I guessed most of the population had issues with pride. “Have you noticed there are popular songs from all around the disk starring almost every race, but the goblins are in only a handful of them? Most feature them in a negative light. Humans call you pests, vermin, raiders and rapists.”

Several goblins in the opposite corner of the room cheered but fell silent when the giant goblin glared at them. Then he crossed his arms and focused his green-brown eyes on me.

“Well, that wasn’t good enough for my master,” I raised my voice so everyone could hear clearly. “He wanted to see the fiercest goblin warriors and the talented spirit callers up close before writing ballads in their name.” My heart rate picked up as I thought on my feet, grasping at threads for my next bit of bullshit. “He wanted to start with a piece called: Grog, Blessed by the Mountain. Then had passages planned for his top warriors and the warg master. It would’ve been brilliant.”

The giant goblin’s glare hadn’t softened, but doubt and yearning had replaced the fear and anger in the others’ eyes. I hoped stroking everyone’s ego would help me survive the trial, if not win it.

“Now, since Gark and his wonderful rider friends have saved my life and brought me here, it’s up to me to continue my master’s work. I intend to befriend you lovely green skins over more pints of this lovely mead, hear their tales and slowly put together a piece that’ll put my masters’ works to shame. It’s time the disk learns of a goblin’s power.”

“I’ve heard him play, Blacknail, Dirk,” Gark said. “It’s truly beautiful and inspiring. Perhaps this is what Grog’s Table needs so others—”

The spirit caller stopped mid sentences when Blacknail crossed his muscled arms. I had to keep myself from swallowing my words and cower in front of the imposing physical threat. My exhausted knees wanted to wobble, but I focused on keeping steady and controlling my breathing.

“Go on then,” a female goblin said from across the room. She stood up, showing off a curvaceous body that didn’t match that of any of her peers. Her crooked, hooked nose and ears gave away her goblin race, though. Her gaggle of seated friends giggled when Blacknail glared at her. Their bodies matched that of goblin female’s, displaying narrow shoulders, wide hips with pot bellies and pointed small breasts. “Play something for us. Let us judge whether you’re worthy of spreading our tale.”

I mentally thanked the system and Arena Disk for finally giving me a trial where I could put my skills and mental faculties to good use. Unfortunately, the goblin female’s clothing suggested she held rank. Hopefully, impressing her would get Blacknail to back off.

“Yes, miss,” I said. “What kind of song would you like? Something cheerful? Slow and morose? Or a love song?”

“Surprise us,” she replied, narrowing her eyes.