Lines Redrawn

Stonegate Keep remained silent. The already shattered garrison was rocked by Kaelan's resolute refusal to arrest Grakka on the basis of the fabricated evidence. A chilly resentment descended upon the human warriors, but open resistance was not displayed since Kaelan's power, supported by the King's decision, was still too strong for that. Their contacts with Kaelan were limited to the coldest, most essential formalities, and they carried out their duties with sulky acquiescence. Captain Vorlag hardly looked at him. As a leader who purposefully distanced himself from the anxieties and biases of his own men, Kaelan was acutely aware of the isolation. He had made his decision based on his belief that Varkas and the Broker had fabricated the proof. He now needed to demonstrate it, and fast, before the long-simmering dissatisfaction among his own ranks erupted. He kept driving himself, starting his own covert investigations into who might have had access to the granary, who was on patrol when the 'evidence' was discovered, and looking for the minute contradictions that would reveal the lie.

Grakka dealt with her own inner turmoil while Kaelan struggled with the fallout among his people. When she went back to her troops' temporary quarters beside the stables, she discovered them brimming with mistrust and barely restrained violence. The 'evidence' against them and Kaelan's sudden 'delay' in detaining her had validated their worst suspicions: human betrayal carried out in accordance with some cunning scheme.

Borg quickly faced her, a number of senior warriors on either side of him, his craggy face set in stern lines. "He plays with us, Grakka," Borg growled in a low, stern voice. It's a phony 'investigation'. He found an excuse, and now he waits for us to drop our defenses or for reinforcements before the cage door crashes. He pointed at the keep. "We are outnumbered and deep in their territory. His men polish their blades while he 'investigates'. "Strike first, or be struck down," goes goblin sense.

Urgok, another warrior who was well-known for his scars and antipathy toward people, added, "Why believe anything a human says? Did he protect Zog? Maybe just to keep us relaxed! Make you believe in him! Before it's too late, we should demand safe return to the mountains and take human hostages. Among the assembled goblins, murmurs of agreement echoed. Their instincts, which had been refined through years of battle, cried out danger, mistrust, and preemption. They turned to their commander, Grakka, expecting her to validate their suspicions and get them ready for the impending treachery.

With her hand lying close to her cleaver, Grakka listened, her face impassive. All of her goblin instincts spoke out in agreement with Urgok and Borg. Be wary of people. Anticipate betrayal. First, strike. Her people had survived because of the religion. She recalled the expression on Kaelan's face in the council room, the strain he was under, the rage his own officers were directing at him. Why would he put himself in danger for the sake of a more complex trap?

"You saw him," she finally exclaimed, her voice clear and hard enough to break through the whispers. The warriors fell silent and listened carefully. "You witnessed him defying his own captain and guard. The proof was 'manufactured', he said. Varkas was his name. She looked straight into Borg's eyes. "He attracts hatred from his own people and jeopardizes his command. For what purpose? A "trick"? The sound of her scoffed was piercing. "Humans may be dishonest, but when they are lusting for blood, they are rarely that subtle. It feels different now.

"Different how?" Unconvinced, Borg pressed. "Hope is a human weakness, Grakka."

"This isn't hope, it's strategy!" she said, her grip on power loosening. "Consider! If we engage Kaelan's army right now, who benefits? Varkas! The Broker! Here, they want us to destroy one another. They placed the evidence in the hopes that we would react angrily or that Kaelan would take a hasty decision. To launch a fight inside these gates on the basis of suspicion and dread alone is to step right into their trap. It's tactical suicide.

With a stern scowl, she glanced over her troops. "Kaelan looks for the person who planted the evidence. He looks for the Broker and Varkas. our adversaries. His route currently coincides with ours. She made a firm decision that had serious repercussions. "We hold off. We observe. We allowed the knight to continue his search. Yes, we get ready. We're still on guard. However, we don't attack initially because of darkness and fear. We will bleed all the human blood required to cut our way out if Kaelan turns out to be untrustworthy and his investigation is just a delay tactic. As a pledge to her troops and to herself, she allowed the menace to linger. "Not beforehand, though. We don't work for our adversaries. That's what I'm ordering."

Her soldiers shuffled uneasily as her firm reasoning and unquestioning authority clashed with their deep-rooted mistrust. After staring at her for a while, Borg nodded slowly and grudgingly. Grakka's bold and dangerous decision to trust—not Kaelan directly, maybe, but her own judgment of the circumstance and his actions within it—put an end to the immediate crisis within the goblin ranks. She had put strategy ahead of instinct, a tenuous partnership ahead of urgent survival.

Later that day, feeling the weight of the hostile quiet of the keep, Kaelan was walking across the main courtyard, distracted by the dead ends his inquiry seemed to be reaching. He watched as Borg and Grakka emerged from the stable block. Despite their vigilance, her men were maintaining their places rather than actively preparing for battle. He watched as Grakka gave Borg a stern order, to which he curtly bowed before turning back to the stables. Even from a distance, it was evident that she was actively keeping things under control and upholding the tense peace in spite of her own people's instability. She was allowing space for him and his investigation. She was fulfilling her half of an unofficially proclaimed alliance.

Her route momentarily crossed his as she turned to return to the tower. A few feet apart, they came to a halt. There was a fresh stress on top of the ordinary strain. He could see the intense resolve in her eyes, the knowledge of the tightrope each of them was walking with their faction. She probably saw the loneliness in his demeanor and the weight of his defiance of his own authority.

There was no discussion of Vorlag's warnings or Borg's challenge. There was no need for any. There was a deep understanding between them in that moment of wordless recognition. He witnessed her determination to actively calm goblin rage and to have faith in his approach in spite of decades of argument to the contrary. She could see that he recognized and understood the danger she was taking. Not yet, it wasn't affection. Their same situation, their parallel defiance, and their mutual reliance on the forces trying to separate them were all starkly and clearly recognized. Now, they were allies—not by choice or decree, but by a deliberate decision made in the face of criticism, defying the trend of their own pasts. They had redrew the lines.