Chapter 45 Broken Alliance

I’d spent long time dodging beatings, begging to survive, reading faces to know when fists were coming. And Rakrak’s face—that wasn’t peace. That was a butcher licking his lips before the slaughter. 

“But” Lyn added, tilting her head, “nothing can be signed or promised without proper talks. I’m simply a messenger. If your intentions are true, then perhaps… this could be the start of something more.”

Rakrak’s grin widened, and he clapped once.

“So wise! So diplomatic! You speak better than most goblins think. Let’s share drink. Break bone together. Honor the beginning of a bond.”

My heart thudded in my chest. I tried to swallow but my throat was dry. Behind the throne room, I heard a faint noise—the scrape of steel against stone. The kind of sound goblin guards made when lining up. Not random patrol. Formation.

I stepped closer to Lyn, leaning in, whispering low, “S-something’s wrong… I think they’re surrounding us.”

Lyn didn’t flinch. Her tail flicked once.

“I know,” she whispered back.

“Play dumb. Keep smiling.”

Rakrak, still facing away, called over his shoulder, “Come now, little messenger, little hero. Sit, eat, drink. You’ve done a good job. This—” he spread his arms “—is a celebration.”

But Hermit’s eyes darted to the door. His gut churned. He’d seen Rakrak “celebrate” before.

And nobody made it out of those parties whole.

"But before we celebrate, the question is... do you know what you’ve done, Hermit?”

I blinked, confused, sweat starting to form on my brow.

Rakrak turned away, sipping from his goblet.

“Because I’m not stupid. No, no... not like the others. I’ve known who the Cat Boss was since the moment I stepped foot in this miserable patch of dirt. Sent here by the Overlords themselves, I was — to take his head. To build a stronghold. To expand the true kingdom of goblins. The proper one. Not this scattered filth and mud.”

Lyn’s brow twitched, but she stayed silent.

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Rakrak turned back around, teeth bared in something that was definitely not a smile.

“And then you — my clever, crawling little bug — you scuttled into the woods like I hoped. And now here you are. You didn’t just come back. You brought me his daughter.”

He clapped his hands together once, the sound echoing through the chamber like a thunderclap.

“I should throw you in the pit and carve your name into the bottom for what you’ve just handed me. A trap, wrapped in a gift, dripping with opportunity.”

Lyn narrowed her eyes.

“You never wanted alliance.”

“Of course not, kitten,” Rakrak said, “I want your father’s head on a pike and your bones to decorate my gate. But... let’s not rush, shall we? After all...” he gestured lazily at me, “...this little rat brought you right to me. That deserves a little... hospitality.”

My entire body went cold. My limbs stopped working, locked in place by dread.

“I-I didn’t know... I swear, I thought— I thought—”

Rakrak laughed. Loud and vile.

“You thought? Oh, my precious little gob. You thought you mattered. That your kindness meant something in a world made of knives.”

He leaned in close, whispering like a serpent.

“You’re a slave, Hermit. A bit smarter than the rest, sure. But still a slave. And smart slaves make excellent pawns.”

Lyn's hand drifted to the small knife at her side, but she didn’t draw. Not yet.

Rakrak turned and walked back toward his throne, sprawling out across it with a contented sigh.

“So now the game begins. Tell me, kitten... how would you like to send a message home to dear old dad?”

He twirled his goblet and smiled.

“Shall we start with an ear?”

I reached out, trembling, my voice cracking like dry bark.

“P-please... don’t hurt her... I didn’t— I swear I didn’t know—”

Before me or Lyn could react, Rakrak shouted, throwing his hands up in annoyance.

“What are you waiting for, fools?! I said barge in when I make a loud clap! I already did it twice! Hurry up!”

For a beat, silence hung in the air. Then—

CRASH!

The heavy doors burst open, nearly flying off their hinges as goblin guards poured in—clad in jagged scrap armor, spears raised, grins twisted with cruel delight. The chamber erupted into noise—shouts, boots pounding, metal clanging.

I instinctively jumped in front of Lyn, my small arms spread wide in a desperate, hopeless gesture.

“N-no! W-we’re here in peace! She’s—she’s just a messenger—!”

Rakrak cackled like a mad dog, pointing a sharp-nailed finger at us.

 “Peace?! You think I want peace with a clan of flea-bitten cats?! You brought the daughter of Cat Boss into my den and thought I’d what—shake paws?!”

Lyn’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t run. She didn’t panic. She dropped low, tail whipping around, claws slipping from her fingers like blades born of shadow.

“Guess we’re skipping diplomacy,” she hissed.

I was frozen, heart thundering, caught between shame and fear. I’d led her into this. Brought her right to the monster's teeth.

Guards closed in from every angle.

Rakrak took a seat back on his crooked throne, smug as ever.

 “Let’s see how many seconds Cat Boss’s precious kitten can last, hmm?”

I barely had time to raise my hands before a gauntleted fist cracked across my face, sending me spinning like a broken top. I hit the wall with a thud, crumpling into a heap, my ears ringing, my vision swimming.

And above it all—laughter.

Rakrak’s grating, guttural cackle rolled over us like a wave of sewage. He lounged on his crude throne of scavenged wood and rusted nails, his yellowed fangs bared in delight.

"Ohhh, this is fun," he crooned, wiping a tear from his beady eye.

  "Her pathetic little pet—what was he even doing? Begging? Crying?"

Lyn’s claws flashed like silver daggers as she lunged at the first guard, her snarl sharp enough to cut stone. She moved like a storm—fast, furious, untamed—but the guards were too many. A club cracked against her ribs, sending her staggering. A net, weighted with iron, slammed down over her shoulders. She thrashed, teeth bared, muscles straining—

—until a boot between her shoulder blades drove her face-first into the dirt.

"Enough of this," a guard grunted, twisting her arms behind her back.

Rakrak waved a clawed hand. 

"Lock them in the cages. Let the night air humble them. The real fun begins in the morning."

The guards dragged us through the mud, past jeering evil goblins and flickering torchlight, to the row of wooden cages lining the village’s edge. Lyn fought every step, even as they threw her inside and barred the door. I barely moved as they dumped me beside her, my body aching, my face mangled.

Outside, Rakrak’s laughter faded into the night.

Inside, Lyn’s breathing was ragged with fury.

"When I get out of here, I'm going to peel Rakrak's skin off slowly."

The moment her rage faded, her claws—still sharp, still deadly—gently cupped my crushed face. She tilted my chin up, her golden eyes scanning the damage: the split lip, the swelling cheek, the bruise already purpling along my jaw.

"Look at You... That guard is dead. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. But someday? I'll break his fingers off one by one for touching you."

Then, without another word, she guided my head into her lap. Her fingers brushed on my wrinkled head, careful to avoid the tender spots. 

"Stupid goblin," she whispered, but there was no bite to it.

  "You should've run."

I tried to grin, though it pulled at my cut lip. 

"I could not leave you there alone."

She huffed, but her claws scratched lightly behind my ear—just how I liked it.

  "Shut up and rest. We're not done yet. I will break this cage, and we make a run for it."

Lyn’s muscles had just coiled, her claws flexing against the wooden bars, when the guards arrived.

Three of them—burly, sneering, their jagged spears glinting in the torchlight. They leaned against the cage, their grins wide and mocking.

"Ooooh, what’s this?" one jeered, tapping his spear against the bars.

  "The mighty cat, trying to escape? Tsk tsk."

Another snickered, pressing the rusty tip of his spear through the slats, inches from my face.

  "Yeah, you better not try anything funny." 

He jabbed forward—not enough to pierce, just enough to make me flinch from pain. 

"Or else these spears might just find their way somewhere up your stinky hole!"

The third guard laughed, a wet, wheezing sound.

  "Like up that goblin’s—"

Lyn’s tail lashed.

  "Finish that sentence," she growled, "and I’ll rip your tongue out through your throat."

The guards blinked. Then burst into louder laughter.

"Ohhh, she’s feisty!" The first one cackled, poking his spear at her this time. Lyn didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared at him like she was memorizing every scar on his face.

The second guard, emboldened, jabbed his spear toward my legs.

  "Maybe we should give ‘em a little motivation to behave."