Chapter 35: The Storyteller

The feast still raged around me, with mugs clashing together, booming laughter echoing through the camp, and the rich scent of charred meat hanging thick in the air, but I had long since stopped eating.

My attention had shifted elsewhere, and judging by the crowd gathering in front of me, so had everyone else’s.

I had an audience now.

More than a dozen goblin children sat cross-legged on the dirt, their massive eyes gleaming in the firelight without blinking as they hung on my every word. Not one of them looked away.

I couldn’t help but grin to myself.

Hooked them already.

I leaned forward slightly, letting my voice rise and fall with dramatic pauses until it carried through the night like a spell that pulled every ear toward me.

"...And then, the mighty Troll King raised his war axe, an axe so powerful it split the very sky! From the heavens, fire rained down, hotter than the sun itself, crashing onto the demon’s army!"

I stretched my arms wide for effect, and the children gasped, their breath hitching in awe.

One of them, a scrawny little thing with a crooked tusk, leaned so far forward he looked ready to topple over, practically vibrating with excitement.

"No way!" he blurted out. "Did he kill the Demon King?"

I grinned, fighting the urge to laugh. It was funny how quickly things had changed.

When I’d first arrived, these kids had watched me like I was some kind of wild beast that might bite at any second.

Now they were hanging onto my every word, leaning in with wide eyes and barely contained excitement, their little tusks peeking out as they waited for the next part of the story.

And it wasn’t just them.

A few adult goblins had drifted over at some point, doing their best to look busy while very obviously pretending they weren’t listening.

Some nursed their drinks while others stood with their arms crossed, their gazes drifting toward me whenever they thought I wasn’t paying attention.

Among them was Zephra, her expression unreadable, her lips slightly parted as though she couldn’t decide whether to be skeptical or curious.

But the one who caught my attention most was Talia.

She stood a few feet away with her arms folded tightly across her chest, her sharp eyes fixed on me without wavering.

She hadn’t interrupted or spoken a single word, yet I could feel her gaze on me, judging every sentence, measuring every promise.

Even so, she hadn’t turned around and walked away, and that alone told me she was still listening.

I turned my attention back to the goblin kids, deliberately dragging out the moment and letting the anticipation build before spreading my hands with a grin.

"Well..."

I had barely opened my mouth to continue when a voice cut cleanly through the air.

"That is a story for another night."

Talia stepped forward at last, her presence immediately commanding the room, and the disappointed reaction from the goblin children was instant.

"Aww, come on!"

"You can’t stop there!"

"Just one more part!" ℴ

One of the smaller ones even clutched my arm, looking up at me with wide, pleading eyes, silently hoping I’d convince Talia to let the feast continue.

Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do.

I wasn’t about to challenge her authority over something so trivial, especially when she was clearly set on ending the night.

Talia remained completely unmoved, her expression firm as she swept her gaze across the gathering.

"The feast is over. Everyone, go get some rest."

A chorus of groans immediately filled the air, and several goblins dragged their feet in protest as they slowly shuffled away.

Even so, not a single one dared argue.

The goblins, even the youngest among them, knew better than to defy the future chieftess.

They grumbled under their breath and shot disappointed looks at the unfinished food, but in the end, they obeyed without further complaint.

I had heard from Zephra that Talia was the chief’s daughter, but seeing the unquestioned authority she commanded with just a few words, it finally made perfect sense.

No wonder Gunther had listened to her orders without protest.

One by one, the goblins filed toward their huts, some stealing curious, uncertain glances at me as they passed, as though they still weren’t quite sure what to make of their new chief.

Zephra was the last to leave. She lingered for a brief moment, hesitating just long enough for our eyes to meet before giving me a small nod.

"Goodnight, Sylas," she said softly.

I returned the gesture with a casual wave, watching as she walked past Talia.

And that was when I noticed it.

Talia’s expression hardly changed, but I caught the faint twitch at the corner of her lips as Zephra passed by.

I had no idea what had brought it on, yet it was obvious enough that something about what had just happened had rubbed her the wrong way.

Now, I didn’t know what that was about, but judging by the slight tension in her expression and the way her voice had cooled, I could tell something about the situation had irritated her.

For the life of me, though, I couldn’t figure out what it was.

"A word," she said, her tone calm and unreadable.

I raised a brow but didn’t bother arguing. "Alright."

Just as I turned to follow her, a small tug on my wrist stopped me. I looked down to find one of the goblin children staring up at me with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Will you tell us the rest of the story tomorrow?"

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I reached over and ruffled his messy hair. "Of course."

The kid’s face lit up with a huge grin, and he bounced excitedly on his feet before dashing off to catch up with the others.

I was lying, though.

By tomorrow, I planned to be long gone.

As we walked away, I let out a sharp whistle, and almost immediately, a rustling came from the branches overhead.

A heartbeat later, a small blur of fur dropped from the trees with a soft thump, landing squarely on my shoulder as though it had never left.

Drako, my ever-hungry little lemur, wrapped his tiny hands around me, one of them still gripping a massive chunk of meat he’d clearly refused to let go of.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Seriously?"

I hadn’t...