The tension in the air was palpable. Leonhart stood at the center of the village, his golden eyes surveying the goblins gathered before him. A month of rigorous training and strategic planning had transformed his horde from a mindless rabble into a disciplined force. But discipline alone wouldn't be enough to survive what was coming.
"The humans won't wait forever," he said, his voice carrying over the assembled warriors. "They're preparing, just as we are. But we have something they don't—surprise."
Drog, standing at his right, cracked his knuckles. "We attack first?"
Leonhart's gaze shifted to Bruk, who had been the first to suggest using the humans in a different way. The hobgoblin had proven himself more cunning than the others, a rare trait among goblins. Bruk's thick fingers traced a crude map drawn on the wooden floor, marking the locations of nearby threats.
"If we fight now, we lose too many," Bruk rumbled. "Better plan. Better numbers."
Leonhart nodded. "Exactly. We will not fight the humans on their terms. We make them hesitate. We make them second-guess. And we make them bleed before they ever reach us."
The Council of War
Leonhart gathered his lieutenants—Drog, Gurruk, and Bruk—inside the village hall. The map before them had grown more detailed over the past weeks, thanks to the scouts. Small tokens marked enemy locations: the human encampment to the north, the orc settlement to the east, and the lizardmen tribe to the south.
Gurruk, ever eager for bloodshed, jabbed a thick finger at the human encampment. "We kill them now. Before they bring more."
Leonhart shook his head. "That's what they'll expect. A direct attack plays into their strengths. We need to be smarter."
Drog grunted. "What we do, then?"
Leonhart pointed at the lizardmen's territory. "We send a message. We let the humans know we have something they want."
Bruk's ears twitched. "The prisoners."
"Exactly." Leonhart's smirk was sharp. "The humans think we're just another goblin horde. But if we offer them a trade, they'll hesitate. They'll try to negotiate. That buys us time."
Gurruk crossed his arms. "Why they not just take their soldiers and attack?"
Drog grunted in agreement. "Humans hate goblins. No reason to talk."
Leonhart's eyes flickered toward the lizardmen's marker on the map. "They do when there's another enemy nearby."
Bruk nodded slowly. "Lizardmen might help humans. Or orcs. Depends who they hate more."
Leonhart traced the map with a clawed finger. "If the humans think the lizardmen are a threat, they'll hesitate to commit all their forces against us. And if the orcs see us making moves, they might come to wipe us out first."
Drog frowned. "Too many enemies. Not enough allies."
Leonhart's expression darkened. "Then we make them fight each other."
The First Move
The plan was set into motion the next morning. A small group of scouts, accompanied by a single human prisoner, was sent toward the human encampment under a white flag. The message was simple: a parley at the edge of the forest.
Leonhart chose Bruk and a handful of disciplined goblins to accompany him. Unlike the wild, unkempt goblins the humans were used to, these warriors carried themselves with the confidence of a trained force. Weapons polished, armor scavenged but well-maintained, they were not the mindless beasts the kingdom expected.
They waited at the designated meeting point, tension thick in the air. It wasn't long before the humans arrived.
A group of knights and mercenaries rode into view, their expressions wary. At their head was a man clad in polished steel, his gaze sharp and calculating. He was older, battle-hardened, and carried the air of command.
"I am Captain Edrik of the King's Vanguard," the man announced. "Who speaks for the monsters?"
Leonhart stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest. "I do."
A flicker of surprise crossed Edrik's face. He had expected a beast, not a strategist.
"We have prisoners," Leonhart said. "Men, women, and children. We're willing to return some in exchange for supplies and safe passage."
Edrik studied him carefully. "And if we refuse?"
Leonhart smiled, slow and sharp. "Then their bodies will decorate the forest's edge. And your army will march into an ambush unlike any you've seen."
A Dangerous Game
The humans did not answer immediately. They left, retreating to their camp to deliberate. Leonhart and his warriors returned to the village, the weight of impending war settling over them.
"They won't give us what we want," Gurruk muttered. "Humans never deal fair."
Leonhart wasn't so sure. If they hesitated, even for a moment, it meant they feared losses. And fear was a weapon he could wield.
Night fell, and the goblin village remained on high alert. Scouts patrolled the perimeter, watchfires burned bright, and warriors prepared for the inevitable.
Then, just before dawn, a scout returned with news.
The humans had responded.
Leonhart stood at the village gate as the knight captain rode forward, a small group of soldiers behind him. They carried crates of supplies—food, medicine, and basic weapons.
Edrik dismounted, meeting Leonhart's gaze. "You're not like the others."
"No," Leonhart agreed. "I'm not."
The captain exhaled. "We will take back the village eventually. You know that."
Leonhart's smirk didn't fade. "By the time you try, we'll be ready."
The trade was made. The humans left with a handful of their people, but not all. Leonhart had ensured they still had a reason to hesitate.
As the gates closed behind them, Drog turned to his leader. "What now?"
Leonhart looked toward the horizon. Beyond the forest, the world was shifting. The humans were not the only threat. The orcs, the lizardmen, and forces beyond his sight were watching, waiting.
"We prepare," he said. "The game has only just begun."