Misery in the Cave
The air at the cave mouth was damp and thick, reeking of animal pelts and sheep dung. Adrian lifted his torch, and the light threw long shadows across the rock walls. The other three pressed close behind him, their steps thudding dully on naked stone.
They had barely gone a few paces in when they heard rustling and sharp, whining yelps. Then they saw them—six, maybe seven small figures, huddled against the back wall.
Low goblins.
Their skin was grey-green, their bodies gaunt, ribs drawn like lines beneath stretched hide. Yellow eyes stared into the torchlight—blinded and panicked. Two creatures clung to each other for protection. Another held a half-torn sheep pelt in its claws as if it were his only possession.
They didn't snarl. They didn't attack.
They trembled.
"By all gods…" Tobia muttered. "They look worse than we did after the fitness exam."
Marion swallowed hard. He had imagined fighters—beasts that leapt fences and tore sheep to pieces. Instead he saw pitiful things, barely breathing through fear.
"Those… those are them?" Manuel asked, almost disbelieving. "The ones the villagers were screaming about?"
"They're too weak to fight openly," Adrian said quietly, eyes fixed on the creatures. "But in a pack, at night—and against animals—they're dangerous enough."
The goblins shrank back as far as they could. One stumbled, fell onto its back, and screeched so high it made Marion's teeth ache—until the others panic-grabbed it, forcing it quiet. It was as if they feared their own noise would betray them.
Marion felt his hand shaking, the knife useless at his side.
Kill? These things?
They didn't look like monsters. More like rats clinging to the last scraps.
"What do we do now?" Tobia whispered. "Smash them? All of them?"
Silence. Only the torch crackling.
Manuel took a step forward, chin raised in stubborn defiance. "The villagers want results. If we leave them alive, they'll go back to tearing sheep. Then it'll be: we failed."
The Name Is Spoken
Adrian lifted his sword, torch in his other hand, gaze steady and unblinking.
"He's right. We strike. Fast. No hesitation."
The low goblins let out thin, shrill cries, as if they understood. They scrambled back, tripping over one another, shaking like bodies already dying.
"Now," Adrian ordered, and his voice allowed no argument.
Then everything happened at once.
A slash. A scream. Blood on stone.
Tobia gagged and stumbled backward. Manuel flung shaky sparks that produced more smoke than flame. Adrian's blade moved with cold precision—clean, brutal, unstoppable.
Marion—Marion stood there with the knife in his hand, heart pounding.
One small body staggered right into his feet, yellow eyes wide with terror.
He stabbed on reflex.
A short, desperate thrust.
Warm blood splattered his fingers.
Silence.
The cave smelled of iron and fear. Small bodies lay still in twisted poses, like discarded rags.
"Good work," Adrian said, breathing out. "Now we search the rest. We can't leave any behind."
They split up. Marion, shaking, went deeper into the darkness.
The passage narrowed, reeking of wet fur and old smoke. He heard dripping water. He heard his own breathing too loud in his ears.
Then he stopped.
In the farthest corner crouched a figure.
A goblin girl—different from the others. Smaller. Eyes too large, too awake, glowing green in the torchlight. Her body was thin, but not ruined by hunger like the ones outside. She pressed herself to the stone, arms wrapped around her knees, a trembling whimper caught at her lips.
Marion stared.
She's still a child…
Before he could move, Adrian's voice echoed down the tunnel: "Marion! Find anything?"
Marion swallowed, eyes still locked on the creature. He wanted to call back Nothing here!—but in the tight space, with a dry throat, only a strained whisper came out:
"Nothing… here!"
The echo rattled through the cave.
His voice was brittle. His heart hammered.
The goblin girl remained in the corner, eyes wide, arms tight around her legs. No attack. No snarl. Only shaking—like a half-frozen puppy.
For a moment Marion thought her eyes flared brighter.
But maybe it was only torchlight. A trick of exhaustion. He blinked, breathed in.
She's just a small thing. Harmless. A nobody. Alone, she won't hurt anyone.
Footsteps behind him. "All good?" Adrian's voice again.
Marion shifted back from the opening without taking his eyes off the crouched figure. "Yeah… nothing here."
"Good." Adrian turned away, his torch pushing back the shadows. "We have enough proof."
Marion threw one last glance into the dark corner.
The goblin girl didn't move. She only watched him—terrified, weak, useless.
Then Marion turned and followed the others out.
Return to Pelata
The day was grey when they emerged from the cave. They wrapped the small bodies in cloth to bring proof to the villagers. Tobia still looked sickly pale. Manuel walked in silence, kicking stones like he needed somewhere to put his anger.
Adrian went ahead, upright, sword still bloodied but steady in his hand. He seemed untouched, as if it had been nothing—duty, not slaughter.
Marion stayed a little behind, his knife at his side, still stained with marks he couldn't wipe away. The image of the trembling figure in the corner kept flashing through his head.
She was only a child. I should have—
He shook his head.
No. Sparing her was right. A small thing alone in the woods—she won't harm anyone.
The sun hung low when they reached Pelata again. The smell of blood still clung to Marion's nose, but the villagers at the gate saw only the bundles of fur and claws Adrian dropped onto the ground.
"The goblins are dead."
Silence.
Then cheering erupted. Men shouted. Women cried. Children ran in circles like it was a festival. The old farmer who had mocked them that morning gripped Marion's hand as if he were a savior.
"You helped us. We can sleep again."
Five silver coins changed hands.
In Marion's palm the money felt unreal—more wealth than he'd ever held.
And instantly one thought struck like lightning:
A gift for Tamara.
On the walk back, everyone talked at once. Tobia babbled, glowing: "Did you see their faces?! We're heroes! Heroes, bro!"
"Heroes?" Manuel snorted, but even he looked proud. "More like lucky idiots. But hey—silver in the pocket."
Marion barely listened. His fingers closed around the coins, and in his mind he already saw Tamara's smile when he placed something beautiful into her hands.
Near the point where the Academy towers appeared on the horizon, Adrian stopped.
"This is where we split," he said, lute loose over his shoulder. "You did well."
Tobia beamed. "With you with us! Without you we'd have been—well."
Adrian laughed. "Everyone starts somewhere. Remember: it's not only about fighting. It's about what you become from it."
Then he turned, raised a hand in farewell, and took a different road—light-footed, as if he'd never truly been part of their little group at all.
The three friends remained.
Tobia punched the air. "Our first job, bro! We're real adventurers now!"
Manuel only nodded, already thinking about food.
Marion walked on in silence, the silver tight in his fist, his thoughts only on her.
Tamara.
For you.