When in Casbriga

“Left with no further purpose in remaining a clerk in the Lugustian palace, I requested a nullification of my contract from my master, who, in his mercy and generosity, let me go in peace.”

The shaman spoke as we sat on grassy mound overlooking the plains we traversed the previous day. “By the time I returned to Gobland, I reached thirty-four years of age, and reunited with my brother, your father, and this was sixteen years ago.” The shaman finished up his story.

Back during our reunion at the pond three days ago, the shaman promised to provide me with some well-earned exposition if we hurried towards Casbriga, the Ausmulii’s current capital town. To me, it seemed like the shaman had finally come to trust me after I passed both of his tests. He did not state this out loud, of course, but I noticed a change in his demeanor. He no longer had this skeptical gaze whenever he looked at me, and instead, looked at me more warmly, answering all my questions with patience and understanding, though still in long-winded, convoluted sentences and a sullen look. I wondered where he picked up this manner of speech, but I prioritized meaningful questions that entailed to our quest.

“As I understand it, our goal is not to wipe out all the lynxes, but rather to create a system wherein all goblins can function and cooperate. Is that correct?” I inquired.

“My boy, the lynxes were but the catalyst that lead to Gobland’s instability, for, in truth, our goblin ways have always been flawed and crude.” He replied. “We must do as man has done, in their image, and reform ourselves into a people shaped by civilization; that is the correct path.” He looked at me, analyzing my reaction.

I hummed, unsure of whether he was correct or misguided in his assertion. Indeed, he was the true goblin here, born and raised and all, so he would know more about his people’s ways than me. But I am skeptical if following in humankind’s steps is really the best he could come up with. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those people who will look at any human flaw and declare: “See? This is why humanity sucks, so don’t be like us!” But I’m not one to praise all human systems either. I wondered: what is it about man that he seeks to emulate?

“You must rise to your station,” The shaman said as he noticed my hesitation to agree. “for goblins cannot remain the crude rabble the world believes us to be, as we must prove ourselves a people worthy of respect—as men are.”

I could tell that behind his genuine warmth, he was trying to influence me with his own worldview. I had yet to experience the goblin ways myself, so I could not discern whether he spoke the truth or not. I will remain open-minded and reach my own conclusions, listening to both the shaman and my intuition. For now, I needed to gain an understanding of goblinkind.

“Aremfrid, uncle, shaman, sir; what should I address you as?” I changed the topic of the conversation. He gave me a puzzled look when I said “shaman”, but carried on anyway.

“When in public you should address me as your uncle, for that is what people expect of us, but in private, the matter is left to your own discretion.” He spoke solemnly, breaking eye contact and looking away.

“Sounds good, uncle.” I said. Not only did it feel natural to call him my uncle, for some reason, but it was also practical. You never know when someone could accidentally hear your private conversation, or when your behavior behind closed doors leaked into public life. It was the practical and natural option for me. I’m not sure how it works, but perhaps because I possess Frasmul’s body and thus his brain, certain habits and knowledge just come naturally to me. It must be the reason why I can understand and speak the goblin language with ease, as well as why I feel at ease with the shaman; he is my biological uncle whom my mind and body has grown accustomed to.

As soon as I referred to the shaman as uncle, however, I saw a melancholic frown appear on his face. Unlike my initial meeting with him, his emotions regarding me seemed to soften, as if he could still see his nephew linger in my eyes. He referred to me as his boy, spoke with warmth to me, and had gentle look on his face at all times, though he never truly seemed content or at peace.

My passing of his test, as well as time passing in general, might have allowed him to accept his nephew’s untimely departure and accept me as his new protégé, or perhaps Frasmul and I are more similar than one would expect, but his melancholy seemed to remain the same.

“Though it may feel unfamiliar to you at present,” my uncle reached out to his hip, which was cloaked by his mantle, and pulled out a scabbard, “in the past, you wielded this blade with utmost skill and elegance, just like your father before you.”

He handed me a forward-curved blade. It shared a swords length and reach, but had the momentum of an axe when swung, allowing for heavy hits yet nimble swings. The grip was adorned with a silver lynx head, and the body of the blade was black as the ocean at night while the edge shone like steel in the sunlight; it was as if someone had managed to sand down obsidian into a smooth single-edge. It was monolithic, forged from a single piece of material. With a hooked grip and sharpened false edge, it was clear to any historical weaponry buff that this was a falcata, and an exceptional one at that.

“Out of all the weapons wielded by our kind, this is the only one which could rival man’s superior blade and pike, so mind it and stand guard by it.”

I stood up and he fastened the leather scabbard to my right hip.

***

Another day passed on our trip to Casbriga as we finished traversing a large continuous plain.

Our destination sat elevated on a wide mound. The mound was natural, but the people have shaped it to their liking, resulting in a multi-layered hill. When we reached the foot of the hill in question, just as we started to ascend it, two guards stopped us and gave us questioning looks. One guard halted my uncle, but soon apologized once he got a look at his face, while the other guard halted me, and upon noticing my deep onyx gray skin tone, he also apologized and they let us passed. The six guards, which we now faced at the gate, did much the same.

My heart rate quickened. We stood in front of the wooden gate of Casbriga with my future throne beyond it. I was so excited to finally become a king, a ruler; something I have always wanted to be. Like my forefathers were, like the history books say, like my games depict. With years of playing pretend, also known as roleplay, behind my back, I was sure to fit right into my role. The peeps in this capital probably weren’t going to instantly crown me, but once I had gotten my spiel started, and my Edekrag mastered, they would surely fall at my feet. Hehehe. We entered and…

“Salutations, future subjects!” I cheered when I stepped foot in the town. It was empty. A tumbleweed rolled by as the wind whistled in my ear. I gave my uncle a confused look, unable to hide my disappointment. He turned his gaze towards the sky, as dusk fell.

“Behold the toothed star shining in the sky, a weekly spectacle that brings with it the assembly, whereby the people gather at the forum—or rather—the public square, as it’s better called,” he clarified rather cryptically. He trailed the wooden palisade walls to the right and I followed suit.

Twisting and turning corners, I copped a near complete look of the town. All houses and buildings were wooden structures, the wood having a black tint while roofs were constructed with ocean blue planks. Simple yet sturdy, the constructions did not impress a notion of primitive architecture, but seemed rather advanced. My preconceptions of goblins, borne out of countless video games and anime, alongside my uncle’s convictions gave me the impression that goblins would make for uncultivated craftsmen. However, this hillfort town threw a large wrench into that presumption.

It is especially impressive since the ground had different elevations, with some homes’ foundations being raised higher than others. At the peak of the hill, a building that exceeded the size of the houses surrounding us, stood. One would not be mistaken to think it an mansion, but it looked more like a fortified, large hall.

We reached an open area in the middle of the settlement, a large crowd having congregated of around a thousand goblins; a fifth of the town’s population. The congregation was a mixed bunch of Goblins, Hobgoblins, and Crawgoblins. A couple of Highgoblins, around ten, were visible from where we stood. Two Highgoblins stood on an elevated step and engaged in a discussion of some sorts; the one to my left was an older lady, with long, silver hair, whereas the one to my right was male with short, silver hair. It seems that silver hair was the distinguishing trait of the Ausmulii, as everyone in the crowd held that trait in common, while they differed in skin tone and height.

My uncle glowered at them.