Chapter 09 Hidden Bounty

The master goblin turned his gaze towards me, his eyes narrowing. For a moment, I feared he would strike me down for my insolence. But instead, he tilted his head, considering my words.

"Master Rakrak, I beg of you," I pleaded one last time, my voice trembling.

 "If we are given some rest and basic tools, we can work more. Please, reconsider."

The goblin master Rakrak was a young one. This was his first venture from the goblin kingdom and his first assignment received from higher-standing goblins. He had little experience in the field, but he was no fool. He was cunning and manipulative, a smart goblin master. He had been going around, talking with slaves, gathering information from their stories of their lives in previous goblin farms.

Before Rakrak answered my plea, he asked me which farm I was from.

"Say, filthy slave. Which farm are you from? Surely you know the name of your previous master, don't you?"

 With a lowered head and a submissive tone, I muttered the name, "Master, I was on Master Shakar's farm. But it was raided by adventurers. I managed to escape by miracle, alone."

Shakar was well known as a strong goblin master among the evil goblins. His farm was considered prosperous, a success. A slave from such a successful farm seemed valuable for information in his eyes. I was useful to be exploited, and the goblin master painted a shrewd smile on his face.

"Hmm, a survivor from Shakar's farm. Tell me more about how Shakar managed his slaves. Tell me everything you know, and I might consider your plea, slave. But you better not make things up or I will see that you would receive the most painful torture."

I told him everything I knew, trying to keep my voice steady. I spoke of the discipline, the work routines, the rewards, and the punishments. I painted a picture of a farm that was brutal yet efficient, hoping to appeal to the master's desire for productivity.

After looking at the growing pile of broken slaves, the master goblin narrowed his eyes and pondered for a while. Then he looked down at me and said, "I will give you two days of rest, and you will be in charge of teaching the other slaves to make your suggested tools. You have these two days of rest to finish what you need and resume work. But if I don't see improvement, I will personally gut you myself for wasting my time."

Relief washed over me, mingling with the ever-present fear. I fell to my knees and thanked him for his 'kindness', my voice trembling. 

"Thank you, master! We will work hard and not fail you."

The master goblin signaled for his elite guards to gather around and instructed them to give me a free pass to act and to grant two days of rest to the exhausted slaves. The guards grumbled but obeyed, their eyes filled with disgust.

I wasted no time and scuttled back to the rest of the slaves. Quickly and quietly, I gathered those who could still move and explained what we needed to do. We scattered around the camp, gathering sharp rocks, sturdy sticks, and lots of vines. By midday, we had managed to create some primitive tools: picks to work the hard ground, and axes fashioned from sharp rocks and sticks.

With these tools and two days of rest, we felled trees in half a day, a huge improvement compared to the whole week spent nibbling them down with our feeble teeth. I directed the workflow, improving the transportation of the logs as well. Instead of dragging or carrying them, we simply pushed and rolled the logs, making the task much easier and faster.

The master goblin was impressed by our progress. He saw my ingenuity as an opportunity to exploit for his gains. He approached me, his eyes glinting with approval and greed. I felt a mixture of fear and cautious hope. His gaze bore into me, sharp and cruel. He wasn't offering kindness; he was seeking to squeeze every bit of usefulness from me.

"You have done well. Your name: Hermit, was it? You have shown that even a slave can have value. But do not think this makes you special. You are still expendable. But I will remember your name."

I nodded, keeping my head low to avoid his gaze.

 "Thank you, Master. Yes, Master. Hermit is the name. We will continue to work hard."

After a short pause he added, "Slave, I will give you a small reward. Name what you need the most to be more efficient with work. The faster we finish the defensive walls the better. With each passing day, we risk being attacked by the forest's monsters and we do not want that."

We, goblin slaves, were starving for days. We couldn't even remember when was the last time we had anything in our bellies. Our throats were so parched that it felt like we had sand in our mouths.

"Master, we... we are starving," I began, choosing my words carefully, my heart pounding in my chest. 

"Please. We cannot go on like this. We are starving, withering away with each passing moment. The only sustenance we have is the occasional bug scuttling across the dirt. We need quencher, the only water we tasted was the morning dew clinging to the tall grass."

I paused, my heart pounding in my chest, as I searched the master's face for any sign of mercy. But he remained stoic, his eyes cold and indifferent, as if our suffering was a natural thing.

"We are on the brink of death," I continued, my voice growing stronger with each word.

 "But if you, Master Rakrak, would allow us to venture into the forest, perhaps we could find something to sustain us. A few morsels of food would give us the strength to work harder, to serve you better. Build faster. A fed slave is a working slave. Yes, it is."

I pleaded, my words fueled by desperation and fear. I knew the risks of asking for such a favor and knew that the forest held dangers far greater than our hunger. But we had reached a point where we had nothing left to lose.

The master goblin's eyes narrowed as he considered my request. 

"Very well, I will grant your request. But know this, slave. If any of you dare to defy me or attempt to escape, the punishment will be severe. Do not think for a moment that I am merciful."

"Thank you! Oh great master, thank you! We will not dare to escape, we will not! Thank you, we will go at once!" 

I returned to my fellow slaves and gathered a few volunteers to look for food. We quickly fashioned makeshift baskets from twigs and leaves, strapping them to our hunched backs. The guards kept a close watch on us as we ventured into the forest, their eyes glinting with the anticipation of inflicting punishment. They eagerly waited for any excuse to beat us, their whips and clubs ready in hand.

With the guards’ threatening presence, we cautiously entered the forest. The air was thick with tension, each of us acutely aware that one misstep could mean a brutal punishment. We stayed within sight of the guards, our movements careful.

Despite the fear that gripped us, we scoured the forest floor with desperation. Our hunger drove us to search every nook and cranny. Hours passed, our bodies aching from the strain, but our hunger pushed us onward. We unearthed clusters of mushrooms, their earthy aroma promising a brief reprieve from our gnawing hunger. We found bushes brimming with berries, their vibrant colors making our bellies rumble. Nuts lay scattered on the ground, and we eagerly gathered them, our mouths watering at the thought of a decent meal.

We filled our baskets to the brim, the weight of our haul a testament to our collective effort. The forest, with its hidden bounty, became a fleeting haven for us, offering a glimmer of hope. With our baskets full, we cautiously made our way back to the clearing, the guards’ eyes boring into our backs.

As we approached the clearing, the master goblin stood waiting, his expression a mix of satisfaction and cruel expectation.

 "Show me what you have gathered," he commanded.

We presented our baskets, our hands trembling as we offered our meager bounty. The master goblin inspected our haul, his eyes lingering on the mushrooms, berries, and nuts. He seemed momentarily disgusted, and his expression quickly darkened.

"Remember, slaves," he hissed, "this small mercy does not mean you are free from punishment. Work harder, and maybe, just maybe, you will earn another chance to gather food. Fail me, and you will face my wrath."

With that, he dismissed us, and we returned to our tasks, our spirits momentarily lifted by the promise of a meal. That night, as we huddled together, we shared our food, savoring each bite as if it were a feast fit for kings. The forest had given us a brief respite from our misery, but we knew that our struggle was far from over.