God Agent: All Hail The Great Kobold

The loud whispers spreading through the crowd gradually quieted as Crow rose from his seat. Unlike Loki, he did not rush toward the shattered wooden stand with dramatic movements or attempt to draw attention to himself. He simply adjusted the black wolf fur resting over his shoulders and walked toward the broken platform with steady steps. The crowd watched him carefully as he climbed onto what remained of it and turned toward them.

Even Molu paused from reaching for another piece of food, his puffy cheeks still moving as he stared at Crow with mild curiosity.

"In this dangerous times, we cannot allow our personal greed and ambition cloud our judgement and lead to the destruction of this great clan we have built together." Crow began, his voice calm but firm enough to travel through the silent square.

Unlike Loki’s speech, there was no shouting or attempt to stir the emotions of the crowd.

"Amongst the new generation of the three founding tribes of our great clan, only one of us has actually being on an expedition... Only one of us have actually being recognized by Chief Grash for his genius.... Only one of us has an eye for strategy and tactics..." Crow paused as several eyes widened in surprise.

Slowly, heads began turning toward Molu, while Varg watched from below the platform with a small smile and a satisfied nod.

"That person is none other than Molu!"

The square erupted into whispers. Even Molu stopped chewing for a moment and raised his head in surprise. He had expected Crow to attack him eventually. The three candidates were rivals after all, and while Crow had never openly insulted him, Molu had assumed that the hobgoblin would eventually present himself as the superior choice.

He certainly had not expected him to stand before the entire village and speak in his favor. Molu slowly looked at Crow, but the bald hobgoblin never turned to meet his gaze. His attention remained firmly on the crowd.

"And many will argue... Do we want a leader who can’t hold a spear? We need a man who can lead armies, see through deceptions and make rational decisions in difficult situations..." Crow continued.

Several goblins nodded as they listened, because that had been the question lingering in many of their minds. Molu was intelligent and had proven himself useful during expeditions, but unlike Loki, he was not a warrior.

Crow slowly raised his hand toward the village around them. "We must not forget that Grash is a legend we cannot replace. We can only honor his memories and protect his legacy by keeping our village safe from the very barbarians who cut him down... And I believe the best man for the job, is none other than Molu!"

The entire crowd exploded into cheers as fists rose into the air. The uncertainty that had filled the square moments ago was replaced by loud voices calling Molu’s name. Kia clapped with a smile, relieved that the selection had finally reached a conclusion without descending into further violence, and she briefly turned toward Varg to see his reaction.

However, her expression changed when she realized the old goblin was no longer standing beside her. His absence had been so quiet that no one had even noticed when he left.

Walking through the lonely streets of the village, Varg moved with the support of his cane, his old eyes narrowed with concern. He knew he had no reason to remain in the square the moment Crow began speaking. The right leader would be chosen.

Crow’s decision to support Molu had made that obvious, and with Kia’s support as the new chief shaman, there was little chance the other factions could overturn the result. The real problem was no longer the election. The real problem was stopping that little fool from doing something impulsive that would cost him his life.

Varg soon reached the former patriarch’s home and immediately frowned in discontent. Two younger goblin siblings stood beside the entrance, staring toward the open gate with worried expressions.

Neither of them needed to explain anything. Varg understood the moment he saw them. Loki had left the village, and judging by the absence of several familiar Mok tribe warriors, he had taken soldiers loyal to his family with him.

Varg slowly closed his eyes as a deep sense of disappointment settled in his chest. What better way was there for Loki to prove to the village that they had made a mistake than by finding the invaders and returning with their heads?

"Grash forgive me... I could not stop that fool...." Varg murmured, his voice carrying a sadness he rarely allowed others to see.

For all of Loki’s arrogance and recklessness, he was still Grash’s son. Varg had watched him grow up, had seen him train beneath his father’s shadow and had hoped that one day the boy would learn the difference between strength and leadership.

Now, with his father dead and his dream of becoming Chieftain publicly shattered, Loki was more dangerous than ever.

Back at the village square, the crowd continued celebrating as several goblins surrounded Molu and lifted him into the air. They threw him upward, caught him and repeated the process while Molu shouted at them to put him down before they dropped him. His protests only made several people laugh harder.

After Crow’s speech, there had been no need for Molu to speak for himself. The Ashin and Dar tribes had supported him, and with the backing of the new chief shaman, the final result was no longer in doubt. The Ashmork clan had a new Chieftain.

The celebration was suddenly interrupted when a goblin warrior pushed his way through the crowd, his breathing heavy and worry etched across his expression. Several people immediately stepped aside as he stumbled toward the center of the square.

"The farms at the coast and the barns... they burnt everything!"

The cheers vanished. Kia’s eyes widened beneath her hood while Molu, Crow and the surrounding goblins stared at the warrior in disbelief.

The eastern region was rich beneath the ground but poor upon its surface. Most of the land was rocky and uneven, with thin soil that struggled to support anything beyond sparse vegetation. The Ashmork clan had been forced to build their farms around the narrow stretches of fertile land near the stream, where the soil was deeper and the constant supply of water made cultivation possible. Those farms were not simply convenient sources of food. They were among the most important resources the entire village possessed.

"How did they know?" Kia asked in horror, her mind immediately racing toward the implications.

This was harvest season, and most of the crops had already been gathered. The farmers had spent days preparing the harvest to be transported back toward the village, which meant the barns had been filled with food that the Ashmork clan was heavily relying on. Losing those supplies was not a simple inconvenience. It could become a disaster.

"If they could learn the location of the village from Manny then is it really strange they know where our farms are?" Molu said with a deep frown.

His earlier amusement had disappeared completely as he stepped away from the crowd that had been celebrating him moments ago. The village had already given up a significant amount of its food as supplies for Grash’s campaign in the south. They had little remaining, and everyone had been depending on this harvest to restore their reserves.

Crow crossed his arms around his chest, his face carrying a mild frown as he considered the report. The enemy was moving quickly, and more importantly, they clearly understood what they were doing.

They had not marched directly toward the village and wasted their strength attacking fortified walls. Instead, they were striking the resources that kept the Ashmork clan alive.

First they had left bodies outside the village to create fear and confusion. Now they had attacked the farms and barns. Each action forced the Ashmork clan to react while revealing almost nothing about the enemy’s actual position or numbers.

Instinctively, every eye turned toward Molu. The fat goblin had only just been chosen as their new Chieftain, yet before the celebration could even properly end, his first crisis had arrived. The villagers waited in silence, their expressions filled with uncertainty.

Were they supposed to remain behind the walls and watch their food disappear, or were they supposed to send an army into the wilderness and risk falling into the exact trap the enemy seemed to be preparing?

Molu’s face remained serious as he looked from the frightened villagers to the warrior who had delivered the news.

"We can’t remain oblivious of their movements. We need to send out skilled scouts to find and monitor the movements of these invaders. We need to know if they had actually destroyed all our harvest or stolen them. Only then can we know the next step to take."

His voice was decisive, and several people slowly nodded as they understood his reasoning. Gathering a small army and rushing toward the farms would accomplish nothing if the enemy had already left.

Worse, blindly chasing them through unfamiliar territory could give the kobolds another opportunity to strike from the shadows.

"I agree..." Varg’s voice suddenly resounded from the edge of the crowd, drawing everyone’s attention as he calmly walked back toward the village square.

The people instinctively stepped aside, creating a path for him while he continued forward with his cane tapping lightly against the ground.

"We still have livestocks and some grains that will last us for a while. What’s important is we find these invaders.... Understand their numbers before we can plan for our next action."

His words brought a measure of relief to the crowd. The loss of the harvest was serious, but they were not starving yet. Panic would only make their situation worse.

Varg walked directly toward Molu, who remained standing at the center of the square, still processing the sudden weight of responsibility that had fallen onto him. The old goblin placed a hand on the young Chieftain’s shoulder and leaned closer, his expression turning stern.

"You might want to send them fast or we might lose Loki too," he whispered.

Molu’s eyes widened as the meaning of those words immediately struck him. His surprise lasted only a moment before his expression twisted with anger.

"That fool!" Molu cursed under his breath.