"How long is this tunnel again?" Lilia asked.
It had been a month since they left the tortoise cavern, and all they had done so far was rush through underground tunnels, some of which clearly weren't meant for humans, forcing Bastion to summon Pebbles to let them pass.
"It took me a month to get through, but since you have to slow down so often to widen the tunnels, maybe two months total. So there's one more month to go," James answered from the front.
He was leading them back to the goblin village, or as close as possible without getting spotted.
"We could have saved time if we just rushed over on Bastion's Diamond Steed," Lilia complained.
"Then you would have been spotted before you even saw the village," James replied. "We have a very expansive sentry system in place."
"I'm surprised your Chief thought of that," Ariel commented.
"Apparently, the village has been ambushed enough times that they eventually learned to set up lookouts," James explained. "They don't have much of a concept of space, though, so they randomly distribute the sentries in the area rather than cover every angle of attack."
"Can't we sneak in that way?"
"You'd leave tracks the goblins can easily spot."
"Bastion can use Pebbles to cover that."
"What about scent, excrement, foliage disturbance?"
"We can use magic bags, a scent-neutralizer potion, and I don't have an answer for the last one," Lilia answered.
"Close, but no cigar."
Over the past month, in addition to Bastion and the girls teaching James the common knowledge of Gaia, they had also been teaching him to speak Common. That month of progress had allowed James to both speak and understand the language, aided by his enhanced Intelligence as a shaman.
Reading and writing were more difficult. They were constantly on the move, which made formal practice impractical, but he had memorized the basics and would be able to work it out on his own with time and repetition.
"Other than the Chief, who else should we look out for?" Bastion asked.
"He doesn't trust anyone other than himself, so he has no aides or direct subordinates. At most, he has an army of suicidal grunts who are absolutely loyal to him. They're a group of goblins who have managed to survive alongside him through each of his battles. Even then, they are more of a collective than distinct individuals, since no single goblin besides the Chief himself has survived all of his campaigns."
"How many are there, and how strong are they?"
"About a thousand Rank 1s and a hundred Rank 2s. The Rank 1s are fresh recruits who survived the war with the warthogs, while the Rank 2s are veterans who made it through the war with the ants. There were supposed to be ten who had been with him even before that, but they died in the warthog war."
"We can handle the rabble easily enough," Bastion said. "But we might have some trouble if they start swarming us from all directions."
They had two autocannons, but their effectiveness was highest when each only had to cover a single approach. If they were surrounded by thousands of suicidal goblins, they would be forced into melee, which would significantly reduce their firepower.
"Can't we use the same castle tactic as before?" Lilia asked.
"Are goblins dumb enough to funnel into a defensive position?" Bastion asked James.
"For a time, but fear would teach them to circle around," James replied. "Besides, any fortifications are usually targeted by the Chief himself. Once he breaks through and starts wrecking the place, the goblins would charge in and finish the job."
This left them with little choice but to fight the Chief in melee while Ariel, Seraphina, and Lilia handled the mobs. With Ariel present, they would not fear being swarmed in a defensive position, leaving the heavy lifting to Bastion and Elyra as they brought the Chief down.
Another month passed, spent leisurely on travel, conversations, planning, and learning, before they finally reached their destination. It was a vast cavern, lit by sunlight filtering through breaks in the ceiling and filling the space with fresh air. Moss clung to the stone in broad patches, and thick roots trailed down from above, hinting at a forest growing unseen far overhead.
"This is as far as you can go without a disguise," James said. "Above this is an elevated position overlooking the village. No one knows about this place, not even the other shamans, since they can't read the markings in the chamber. You should be safe to stay here for the time being. Just don't poke your head out unless you're ready to be swarmed, because directly above us is one of the village's largest lookouts."
"Alright," Bastion said. "Just a quick recap of the plan. James will go with Elyra and point her toward the Chief's room. Elyra will plant the bomb and place a Shadow Mark on the Chief. Once the Chief is in his room, Elyra will inform me so I can detonate it remotely through a pair of resonating crystals."
James and the girls nodded, accepting the plan.
"Once the Chief is dead, James will come out, take control of the goblin tribe, and deal with anyone who tries to claim the title of Chief. Any questions?"
"What's plan B?" James asked.
They had a solid plan, but he doubted it would go smoothly, given the high probability of the Chief somehow surviving the bombing.
"We pop out and start a massacre," Bastion answered. "Elyra and I will take the Chief, while the rest of the girls handle the swarm. You, James, round up the goblins you trust and attempt to escape so you can keep your tribe. Any questions?"
Everyone shook their heads, accepting the plan.
"Great. James, Ely, you're up."
Elyra slipped into James's shadow as he pressed deeper along the goblin village path. He soon reached a dead end sealed by a boulder. With a quick chant and a flick of his hand, roots surged from the stone and forced it aside. Once he passed through, the roots withdrew, dragging the boulder back into place and sealing the passage behind him.
Beyond it, the tunnel shifted from natural and rugged to clearly dug out and lived in. The paths were worn smooth by constant use. The smell of torch smoke mixed with the stench of goblins and their excrement, causing James to wince. He had forgotten how much he hated living underground, largely because of the damn smell.
He made his way through the familiar tunnels until he reached the shaman's cave, a vast cavern where thick stone pillars rose to support the ceiling. The walls were covered in carvings of strange symbols that pulsed with a soft orange light, illuminating the space without the need for torches.
Crude beddings were scattered across the floor, interspersed with clay pots, bundles of dried herbs, bone charms, and other ritual tools, giving the cavern the cluttered, lived-in feel of both a dwelling and a place of worship. Goblins wearing crude bone masks milled about the cavern, muttering as they went about their day.
The moment James entered, the dozens of goblins inside panicked.
"Chief!"
"It's the Chief!"
"Great Chief!" they cried.
James hesitated, confused, before remembering his new form. Among the goblins in the village, the only other hobgoblin had been the Chief himself. The rest were ordinary goblins. Now, having attained a new form through their ancient ritual, James had become the second hobgoblin in the village.
"I'm not the Chief, you bunch of idiots," he shouted in anger. "It's me, Drizzik."
"Drizzik?"
"The Thinker!"
"The Thinker has evolved into the Great Sage! The legends are true!"
"Drizzik the Great Sage!"
"What!?" James exclaimed as the goblin shamans dropped to their knees and began bowing to him. "The fuck are you all doing?"
The commotion drew the attention of the guards, who rushed inside and began bowing as well, until they noticed that this Chief look-alike was noticeably thinner than their own Chief. He also wore the garb of a shaman rather than that of a warrior.
"Who are you!?" one of the guards shouted.
"It's me, Drizzik," James said.
"Drizzik? The Thinker? You should be smaller. You're lying!"
"Fuck you, Grikthar, Morzit. Did you already forget who told you not to fuck your own mother!?"
"Drizzik!? It really is you!" they exclaimed.
Grikthar stepped closer and gave James a pat on the shoulder. "You've grown."
"No shit, Sherlock."
"Wise words as always," Morzit replied with a nod. "It is inappropriate to shit at this place and time."
James shook his head, already feeling a headache coming on. He had forgotten just how stupid these goblins could be. Soon, he remembered why he had come and waved off the crowding goblins before making his way out of the caves. As he walked, he noticed all the goblins bowing to him as if he were the Chief, a misunderstanding he would have to fix.
Once outside, he passed through rows of huts and tents belonging to the soldiers before finally arriving at the largest hut in the village, the Chief's dwelling.
"This is it," James whispered in Common, ignoring the shadow quietly extending from his feet.
Suddenly, the Chief, a 6-foot-tall hobgoblin with rippling muscles, wearing only a loincloth and carrying a massive battleaxe fashioned from warthog tusks, burst out of his hut and pointed at James with a violent expression.
"You! Are you trying to steal my position?" the Chief shouted in rage.
"What!? No, Chief. It's me, Drizzik!"
"Lies! Drizzik is small, while you are large like the Chief! You are trying to steal my tribe sneakily. I, Great Chief Krathok, challenge you to ritual combat to the death to decide who will lead this tribe!"
"What!?" James shouted. "No! Great Chief, I submit to your will."
"I cannot accept. There cannot be two Chiefs in this tribe! You must fight me!"
"Shit!" James shouted, turning as if to run.
"Very well," Krathok said. "I will allow you to relieve yourself before we fight. Come to the battlegrounds by midday, or I will have you hunted."
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