Chapter 69: The Crimson Settlement

The first thing I noticed was the colour.

Red skin was everywhere.

The warriors, the children, the elders sitting outside their huts, even the goblins hauling water from a communal well all shared varying shades of crimson.

Some had skin as bright as freshly spilled blood, while others had darker complexions resembling dried rust.

Their hair ranged from deep red to almost black, and a few wore their hair in thick braids decorated with bones, beads, or strips of leather.

Against the dull brown of the earth and the grey of the stone walls, the entire settlement seemed to burn with its own peculiar life.

It was an impressive sight, though the welcoming atmosphere I’d expected was nowhere to be found.

The moment the red goblins noticed our group, conversations quieted.

Several stopped what they were doing to watch us pass.

Mothers pulled their children closer, while warriors leaned against walls with their arms crossed, making little effort to hide their contempt.

A red goblin sharpening a curved blade spat into the dirt as we walked past.

Another muttered something about green-skinned beggars, earning a few quiet laughs from his companions.

I scratched my cheek.

Well, someone had forgotten to inform these people that hospitality was supposed to be a thing.

The warriors escorting us eventually led the group into a wide clearing near the centre of the settlement.

It was surrounded by huts and low stone buildings, with a large fire pit at its centre.

Wooden benches had been arranged around the edges, and several tall poles stood near the entrance, each decorated with animal skulls and strips of red cloth that fluttered in the breeze.

The moment we stopped, the guards spread out around the clearing.

Some leaned against the surrounding walls, while others remained standing with their weapons in hand.

More warriors emerged from nearby buildings, drawn by the sight of strangers entering their settlement. Within minutes, we had attracted a sizeable audience.

I glanced around.

If this was their idea of welcoming guests, I would hate to see how they treated prisoners.

Talia’s people gathered close together, their exhaustion and injuries making them look even more vulnerable beneath the red goblins’ hostile stares.

Gunther stood near the front, his broad shoulders squared and his hands resting close to his weapons.

He looked as though he was waiting for someone to give him an excuse to start breaking bones.

I hoped he wouldn’t get one.

The female chief stepped into the middle of the clearing, her dark cloak settling around her boots. She had barely raised her hand when the murmuring crowd began to quiet.

"Bring them some water," she ordered. "Have the wounded treated and prepare a place for them to rest."

A few of the red goblins exchanged surprised glances.

One of the warriors opened his mouth as though he intended to object, but the chief’s crimson eyes shifted towards him.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, Chief Zarvessa."

The warrior immediately lowered his gaze and hurried away to carry out her orders.

"Make sure they understand that they’re guests under my protection," Zarvessa continued. "That doesn’t mean they have permission to wander wherever they please. Keep them within the designated area until I decide otherwise."

Her words left little room for misunderstanding.

We had been granted shelter, but nobody should mistake that for acceptance.

The red goblins resumed their activities, though many remained close enough to watch us.

A group of young warriors gathered near one of the benches, openly discussing our appearance.

One of them laughed when he noticed our equipment, while another pointed at Gunther’s battered armour.

Gunther’s jaw tightened.

I caught his arm before he could move towards them.

"Calm down," I muttered. "We’re here for shelter, not to start a fight."

He looked down at my hand before meeting my eyes.

"I know that." he swatted his arm off mine.

His expression remained sour, but he eventually turned away.

Good goblin.

A few of our goblins had already begun accepting the water offered by the servants.

Others remained wary, watching every movement of their hosts.

Talia stood near the centre of our group, gripping Orgrun’s staff with both hands.

She looked tired, but she was doing her best to remain composed.

Her attention suddenly shifted towards a small group approaching from the opposite side of the clearing.

A tall, lean female goblin walked ahead of the others, her green skin and long white hair making her stand out among the red goblins.

Her hair, usually soft and silky, looked tangled and unkempt, with several strands falling across her face.

The blue tribal markings wrapped around her arms were still visible, though dirt smudged her skin, and her simple leather clothes were creased and dusty.

Despite her rough appearance, her curvy figure and sharp amber-gold eyes remained striking.

Several goblin children followed close behind her, some peeking around the adults while others hurried forward with barely contained excitement.

The moment the female goblin spotted Talia, she stopped.

"Talia?"

Talia’s head snapped towards the voice.

"Zephra?"

The girl ran the remaining distance and threw her arms around Talia’s waist.

Talia dropped Orgrun’s staff against her shoulder and embraced her tightly, her face crumpling with relief.

For the first time since we’d entered the settlement, the tension in our group eased.

The children came closer, surrounding Talia and the other green goblins.

Some recognised members of the group and immediately began asking questions.

Others seemed content simply to see familiar faces. A few of the green goblins who had remained silent since our arrival finally smiled.

They had spent the entire journey fearing what might have happened to the people they’d left behind.

Seeing Zephra and the children alive was enough to lift some of that burden.

I leaned against one of the wooden posts and watched them reunite.

At least someone here knew how to welcome a guest.

Zephra eventually pulled back from Talia, though she kept hold of her sister’s hands. Her smile faded when she noticed the staff Talia was carrying and the empty space beside her.

"Where’s Father?" she asked.

The question silenced the immediate area around them.

Talia’s fingers tightened around Zephra’s hands. For a moment, she seemed unable to speak. Her eyes lowered, and I watched her struggle to find the right words.

"He’s gone," she finally whispered.

Zephra stared at her.

"What do you mean, gone?"

"Father died."

The younger goblin’s face went blank. She shook her head once, as though refusing to understand what she’d heard.

Talia pulled her into another embrace.

"I’m sorry."

Zephra buried her face against Talia’s chest. Her shoulders began to shake as the reality of her father’s death settled over her.

Talia held her sister until she stopped trembling quite so badly. The other green goblins gave them space, their earlier relief overshadowed by the grief that had resurfaced.

A few minutes passed before Zarvessa approached us again.

When she reached the edge of our group, her gaze moved over the green goblins before settling on me.

"Brain Eater," she...