Chapter 18 - 17
For the next few weeks, Lumberling hunted and trained in the surrounding wilderness. The region was home to various monsters—demonic spiders, gnolls, lizardmen, and kobolds. Among them, only the kobolds were as weak as goblins; the rest rivaled orcs in strength. If not for Lumberling and Skitz, the goblins would’ve been bottom of the food chain.
Alongside Skitz, Gobo1, and Gobo2, he hunted for essence and food. The goblins ate well, and slowly, the village began to thrive—even if it still smelled like death warmed over. Lumberling was getting used to it.
"Raise your spears! Hit harder! Get into formation—I said get in formation!"
Each day, Lumberling trained the younger goblins. Skitz translated his commands as he struggled to instill discipline into the chaos.
"You there! Stop daydreaming and train! And you—if you run off again, I’ll break your legs myself!"
It was like trying to herd drunk cats. Goblin children were more like unruly brats than soldiers, and he often felt less like a war leader and more like an exasperated teacher.
Still, he kept at it. Each day, drills and sparring with Skitz. On quieter days, he turned his attention to the females.
"Meat isn’t your only option. You can grow crops. That’s what I’m teaching you today."
The goblin women stared at him blankly, heads tilted like confused dogs. Skitz stood by, dutifully translating.
"Hah... this might be harder than combat. All right, grab your tools and follow me."
The goblins carried primitive shovels, hoes, and sickles—crude things barely holding together. Lumberling considered crafting better ones but had little time.