Arem 'the Calm'

A young goblin, stone spear in hand, was lying in wait for prey. He was out hunting with his older relative, both seeking to improve their skills as chiefs in their tribe. The young goblin was a Highgoblin, whereas the older one was a Gobkin.

“Aremfrid,” the elder spoke in a flat tone, “there.” He pointed towards a bush, and the younger goblin moved towards it obediently.

They were waiting to strike upon a hairy bushpig, a dangerous yet common animal in the forests surrounding their town. It had four tusks protruding from its face; two from each side of its snout. The sides of the hog were colored light brown, whereas the hair tracing its backbone was pitch black. One hairy bushpig could feed forty-one Goblins, or thirty-three Hobgoblins, or fifteen Gnobbles for a day. The higher the race of the goblin, the taller and stronger it was, the more sustenance it needed.

When Aremfrid, the young Highgoblin, had taken his position, the elder leaped forward with a burst of fiery energy, his spear piercing the pig’s neck from the side. Squealing, the animal flailed its tusk around, nearly disarming the Gobkin of his spear. It is precisely then that Aremfrid sprinted out from the behind the bush, leapt up in the sky, and crashed down on the swine, his spear impaling the beast’s throat from its nape. With a grunt of approval, the elder threw the pig over his shoulder, and walked off. Aremfrid followed closely behind his older brother.

“Albar,” Aremfrid called out, “this time it took even longer to find one!” He informed.

“Mhm,” The elder curtly grunted in approval, raising his chin up and to the right; a goblin nod of affirmation. Were he to lower his chin to the left, it would be akin to a human shaking their head.

The brothers continued their way back to their tribe. They were muted, but alert.

Lately, the game in the forest had declined. The time it took to hunt became longer. Last week, as they were walking back from a late but successful hunt, they were attacked by a stray dread lynx. Strays were rare, but powerful outcasts from their pack, so when the two brothers were ambushed, they fought long and hard to protect their hunted game from the wild beast. Their eventual victory testifying not only to their individual strengths, but also to their teamwork. The younger was especially overjoyed with their victory. He believed it would go a long way in bolstering his brother’s reputation among their tribe, so that he could one day ascend and become its Gnobble.

A Gnobble was the highest stage any goblin could feasibly reach. Once a goblin reached the Highgoblin stage through ascendancy, he could be ennobled once at least five other Highgoblins swore fealty to him. These five would each have to give up enough of their blood to fill up a fifth of chalice, totaling a liter of blood. The Highgoblin to whom they swore fealty would then have to drink it in one go. Once he did so, he would ascend and become a Gnobble; a nobleman of the goblin race. His skin would become zinc grey, his lifespan would grow, and his height would increase by five centimeters to around 175 cm with a standard deviation of 2 cm. He would boast newfound powers stemming from both his advanced biology as well as his society.

Albar and Aremfrid’s grandfather was one such Gnobble, the second Gnobble that the Ausmulii had ever had. The children of a Gnobble are always Gobkin, who require the fealty of but three Highgoblins to ascend. Such was the case of Albar and his father.

Aremfrid was born Arem. He was born as a Crawgoblin, because only the first son of a Gobkin will be born a Gobkin himself. As the high chieftain’s son, however, Arem was placed in positions of responsibility and power from a young age, and at the age of fifteen, Arem became the youngest Highgoblin the goblin world had ever witnessed. He gained an honor name, and was now known as Aremfrid. If one were to translate this honor name, it’d be akin to the epithet ‘the Calm’. Every Highgoblin was granted such an honor name by his community.

Upon his ascendency, Aremfrid swore fealty to his brother Albar instead of to his father. The tribe had already rejected their father’s chance at Gnobblehood, because of a past mistake of his. They still made him the high chieftain, in respect to his father—Albar and Aremfrid’s grandfather—but refused to swear fealty to him directly. Albar was thus regarded as the future Gnobble of the tribe, to whom they would pledge fidelity once his father had passed or abdicated. However… Albar’s chance never came.

***

After reaching their hilltop town, the two brothers split up. Albar went to the gathering hall to help their father in settling civil disputes and maintaining their vassal ties. Aremfrid, with the hunt’s bounty over his shoulder, went to their home to skin the animal and prepare the meat for their mother to cook. He would join up with his brother after finishing up.

Albar entered the gathering hall where townsmen, and inhabitants from the tribe’s villages gathered to beseech their tribal head. Most tribes held their assemblies outside, but under the current chieftain, all assemblies took place inside. Women and children stood outside, as the men remained inside; notables and elderly were seated at the front, whereas the young, unmarried men stood at the back. The chieftain was seated on an elevated step, looking down at his guests. To his right, a collection of village chiefs stood conversing with one another; they were expected to advise their chieftain, but he rarely lent them an ear. To his left, a lone emissary from another tribe stood in silence as the rest of the hall blabbered about; he was a Highgoblin, close to immune to a Gobkin’s Edekrag.

The three doors of the hall remained open at all times. It allowed the people outside to hear the disputes and verdicts, in addition to allowing for free air flow. Useful, because a closed, crowded space could quickly lead to unbearable temperatures and humidity in the Mediterranean climate of Gobland.

“Gather, gather!” The chieftain thundered the gathering into silence upon noticing his son’s arrival. A couple of murmurs persisted nonetheless as the chieftain continued. He nudged Albar forward.

Albar would usually stand at the front of the crowd with his back turned to his father. From there, he could answer and settle disputes in the chieftain’s stead, earning him much experience for his future job. If a matter was of importance or difficulty, he would defer back to his father. This time, however, Albar was called to stand to the right of his father, nearly touching his seat.

“Hear!” The chieftain bellowed, this time silencing everyone inside of the hall. “We begin this assembly with a welcome to our honored guest from the Laiesyces dual-tribe,” the chieftain stated while raising his left hand and gesturing at the emissary. “Speak your purpose.”

The emissary made his way to the front of the crowd, and before he could bow in respect, a vassal of the chieftain interrupts. His hair uncouth and face flushed with frustration, he proceeded in a hurried and desperate tone.

“High chief Dagmulric, with all respect, this assembly is time reserved for our tribal matters! My dispute with Marmul over the fields east of Tanibriga has festered for weeks, leaving my village famine-struck and disgraced. You promised to address this as today’s first matter, so why must you push us aside for this outsider?!” The vassal cried out. It was evident in his voice that he was tired of dealing with such a stressful matter, and that he desperately sought mediation from the high chief instead.

The atmosphere in the hall had tensed up amazingly. The emissary felt awkward as he backed down, and for a solid minute, the room suffocated in unease and dread.

The chieftain stared at his vassal with unspoken wrath. “You dare interrupt me… Kelmun?”

The vassal, Kelmun, instinctively lowered his head in fear and deference after seeing his chieftain’s rage; a sign of the chieftain’s Edekrag at play. Kelmun’s resolve had quickly dissipated the moment he got his feelings out, realizing the weight of his disrespectful outburst.

“This tribe thrives because I’ve always known when and how to act. You think you can question my decisions, Kelmun? Huh?!” The chieftain roared. He paused, leaning forward as he began to speak mercilessly, each word deliberate: “Your disputes, Kelmun, will be settled when I deem the time right.”

As high chief Dagmulric leaned back in his seat, Albar noticed his father’s hand trembling in nervousness.