The Dark Lord waited for some days to pass before addressing his captives, hoping that their agitation would subside. He was dressed regally by Migaal, no longer looking the part of some goblin warlord. The demon had made sure his outfit was befitting of his station and Zal’Rodal had resigned himself to trusting that Migaal knew what he was doing. Zal’Rodal made his way up the dungeon’s stairs to meet the nearly a hundred humans gathered outside in the courtyard. He was glad to hear that more goblins had joined him in the fortress after the successful raid, otherwise, he feared that he would soon be outnumbered by his prisoners. Zal’Rodal signalled with a flick of his hand, and the goblins scrambled into motion. The heavy oak gates groaned open, their hinges protesting as goblins heaved them aside. Sunlight spilt into the hall, casting long shadows as Zal’Rodal stepped forward, emerging onto the castle steps. The Dark Lord looked at the sea of mostly angry and confused faces before him, heads adorned with hats of every colour likely to be found in nature. Naturally, all of the prisoners were unarmed, but he decided not to tie them up as a gesture of goodwill. Of course, this risked the humans charging him in unison, while he did not think they would defeat every fighter in the fortress he was sure the goblins wouldn’t be able to stop them without great violence.
Zal’Rodal stood at the edge of the stairway, cleared his throat into a closed fist, once, twice, and waited for the gathered crowd to properly pay attention to him. “Greetings! Greetings!” he began, “I welcome you all to my kingdom in the mountains and my castle.” He swept his hand around in a semicircle pointing at the fortress’ walls. “Let’s clear up one thing first, I haven’t brought you here as slaves or goblin food. Take solace in that,” some of the villagers seemed very relieved hearing those words, he wondered what they normally went through, “I would like to make you all citizens of my domain, with your skills, and my strength, we can build something great together.”
The Dark Lord spoke, recalling Migaal’s carefully prepared script, “You all possess skills of great value to me and my people. You are great builders, farmers, smiths, weavers, and so much more.” The villagers looked at each other incredulously, never before had anyone with authority called anything they did great. “I have asked some of the goblin tribes in these forests to construct some housing for you outside the walls, I recommend you expand upon it, we have prepared the necessary materials to do so.” Zal’Rodal wondered if it was wise to let the humans out into freedom so soon, but he would need to earn their trust eventually.
“Before we continue to matters of business, and organisation, and what we can do for each other, I would like to offer you some food as I am sure you are hungry.” Zal’Rodal signalled for the goblins and stenjin in the main hall to come into the courtyard. The Stenjin carried large cauldrons filled with soup while the goblins brought forth bows and spoons and handed these out to the assembled villagers. Zal’Rodal himself turned around to see the table that the stenjin had brought out for him and waited for Migaal to summon another magical feast for him. “You may eat your fill now. If there is anything that a goblin can do to make your stay more comfortable, do speak to Guglak over here, he will be sure to help you to the best of his ability.”
The old goblin looked at his lord awaiting further instructions and when none came turned to the crowd, “Yez, yez, I helpz youz. Want more soupz, we get more soupz, yez.”
“As eloquent as ever, Guglak,” Zal’Rodal said loud enough to elicit the chuckling of some of the village children. “If anyone wishes to take this opportunity to speak to me, may do so now while we eat.” The Dark Lord said before placing another piece of meat into his mouth.
Zal’Rodal was deep in conversation with Migaal who was sitting at the other end of the table. He was still getting used to seeing a ferret holding cutlery and eating what would fall under the category of normal food, then again weirder things were happening around him regularly. “Next we should try to go after a more protected settlement, we must test how strong our forces are. As long as we can avoid fighting cavalry in an open field we should stand a chance. If we want to get anywhere as rulers we have to set our sights further than some local villagers. How about the Rain Fort?” Migaal asked.
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“You want to attack a fortress, after what happened during the raid? We’d have to find a way to scale the walls without losing every goblin on the way up. But I suppose we concern ourselves with siege warfare eventually”
“Ahem,” a low voice could be heard from the steps. Zal’Rodal turned his head to see a young man standing at the bottom of the staircase. The man was no older than thirty and was clutching a yellow hat to his chest. He noticed a group of villagers glancing up at them, they had probably pushed the man to present himself on his own too scared to approach themselves.
“Greetings, what is your name?” The Dark Lord asked.
"My name is William, your hmmm darknificence," the young man said, voice unsteady. “Can you tell us what will happen to us now?"
“Happen?” Zal’Rodal asked and turned in his chair, “Nothing, in particular, will ‘happen’ to you, I expect you and your friends,” he pointed at the villagers looking at William, “I expect you to work for me, build a farm, make some coats, weapons, raise some cattle.” Zal’Rodal listed off anything that came to his mind. “You should continue doing ‘villager’ stuff as usual. You should thank Migaal for providing you with such favourable conditions. You won’t get anyone around these parts offering you zero taxes while you set up a village, you will simply be asked to share some of your surplus and teach the goblins how to do what you do.” Zal’Rodal considered for a moment, “And do not be afraid if the goblins don’t understand what you’re teaching them. I don’t expect them to.”
Some of the villagers that appeared angry started whispering amongst themselves at the mention of no taxes and their faces became pensive rather than angry.
William continued his line of questioning, “Some of us are wondering what will happen to our families, not everyone was, how to say this, invited here,”
“Of course, of course, you may invite them over, in fact, we were going to search for whoever wasn’t ‘invited’ anyway if you and your fellow villagers worked appropriately.” Zal’Rodal said leaning back in his chair, “We have great hopes for our future cooperation. Isn’t that right, Migaal,” the ferret sitting at the other table nodded before continuing gulping down its meal.
Not knowing how to continue from there William the villager returned to his people to tell them of the news. Zal’Rodal continued his meal without paying too much attention to them, he was sure they would join him willingly giving his generous offer. If they didn’t he could always force them to anyway, although it would make them less productive in the long run. Some of the villagers stood up enraged upon hearing William’s words, they wished to return home and be done with this situation while others tried to calm them and discussed with their families. Eventually, most of the villagers seemed to agree that free housing materials, their own farms, and no taxes did not seem too bad. Most were especially keen on the no-tax part.
As the meal continued and came to a close various villagers approached the Dark Lord’s table to share their concerns and opinions on what Zal’Rodal asked of them. There was a lot of work to be done in the coming months, a functioning village isn’t built in a day after all. They would have to try to work as swiftly as possible, the Arberonians would surely not sit idle while he gathered his forces. Before the day was over, Zal’Rodal had listened to almost every villager explaining their trades and what they would need to set these up. William appeared to have been elected as a spokesperson for the farmers and asked for assistance in collecting their tools and transporting their livestock from Ebbing to the castle. Zal’Rodal was aware that some of the villagers would use this opportunity to run but he would then be sure that those that remained were loyal enough for the moment. Migaal had mentioned that this was a possibility and that they would allow those who wanted to run to leave and let the goblins guarding them make their own decisions.
The next person to ask to present themselves was Gedrick the local blacksmith. Gedrick held one of the most important jobs that Zal’Rodal wanted the goblins to learn, although he was not a weapons-smith he was sure that anything he produced would be better than what the goblins made. Besides they would have needed nails, and tools to expand his kingdom. Gedrick requested some assistance to retrieve his smithy and enough stones for the construction of a new one closer to the castle. Zal’Rodal pointed the smith in the direction of a group of stenjin who were more than capable of carrying anything the smith would need.
Zal’Rodal spent the rest of the day sending Guglak and the other goblin tribe leaders out to calm the other goblins before they got too excited around the new humans and started getting ideas that would not benefit anyone, mainly murder, followed by consumption.
