All goblinoids fought, but only hobgoblins qualified as true soldiers. All hobgoblins were indoctrinated in tactics. From the age of Two, they were instructed in the way of the sword, primed with the axes, and coached in formation. War was as common as water, and Fo'il was just a common hobgoblin. But he despised scouting.

  He understood why it was important. The tenets of combat were second to speaking and the major lesson was the necessity of proper intelligence. But Fo'il rather hoped there was someone else who could do it. He was more the man in the tent rather than a scout. But they gave him this task. His red skin smirked under the piercing beams of the forest sun. The bugs always ended up in his hair and his boot never quite fit. Worse, he did not even like Wurhorse.

  They were feral savage beasts that came out of the womb crazy. The strange mix of wolf horse and beast seemed to appear in Orc camps. Lupine jaws that always found meat, long legs that crushed heads underfoot. It was a midnight beast with a soft pelt that was always just itchy but manageable. But all of that was fine to Fo'il if not for the eyes. They had wide marble crimson eyes that burned with a weird awareness. It seems to know things. These eyes were smarter than the orcs, but they also held a madness. Those things were crazy. For Fo'il that was the major thing, it was both bigger than him, and with claws that could be swords. These were reason enough to never deal with the beast again, but a good soldier follows orders. Still, they acted best as weapons and his mount wasn’t as bad as the others.

  He could never tell why he was chosen for this. Every time a scouting mission had to be done that damned gray blade always picked him. It made sense that he turned hobgoblins; they were the only goddamned group who had martial actions. His heavy brow knitted into his usually annoyed face. Why were they still under the orcs?

  It was in the religious text, after all. Their god the master commander of the hobgoblins Hobgor fought Orc’s savage god Gorcckan. He had all the bastion, fortifications made of stars, and artillery that could shatter stars. But none of that mattered. Gorckan and his immortal hordes overwhelmed the golden army. Artillery means nothing to a horde that could not die, simply moving past it. Fortifications were trampled underfoot as they approached. However, Gorcckan wanted a challenge so he bellowed across the stars.

  So Hobgor strode out moving to battle Gorcckan to stop him and ensure the hobgoblin race would survive. The two titans, one of skill versus one of strength battled for supremacy. They fought with blades the size of stars and crushed a thousand worlds in which there were duels. For every parry, for every strike Gorckan pushed through beyond any flourish Hobgor could do. But Hobgor made one error.

  Gorcckan was no fool. Aggressive, brutal and cruel, but he could learn. Every hobgoblin captured every fort seized he learned about Hobgor. He had learned to prepare and was ready, unlike Hobgor was for the first time was unprepared. It was Hobgor who went on the offense while Gorrcckan simply parried. The horde who watched was confused, but it was all a part of the plan. With a flick of the wrist, Gorrckan cleaved upwards with his ax. Hobgor attempted to block the attack with his shield but the battle had worn him out. Gorrcckan's plan had worked and he claimed Hobgor's shield hand. It was said the red blood from the hand was the reason hobgoblins had red skin.

  .Then to the shock of everyone, Gorrckan offered Hobgor a chance to surrender. The first and only time this was ever done, after all, Gorrckan refused any mercy. It was a trap, but what other choice did Hobgor have? Let his kind and kin die under the orcish heel or become a slave? A swift kick pushed him to answer. On his back bleeding out from his left hand, all he could do was give up.

  Thus hobgoblins became allied to the orcs. Well, slaves really. Always bullied or worse used as a mere tool for the Orc brutal, pointless context. However, they never bothered to listen to the hobogoblin’s plans. Or worse, break it when they just need to be quiet. They always tried to push the hobgoblins and always blamed them when things when pear-shaped. Each complaint increased his natural scowl, giving him the most natural hobgoblins expression. But they could do nothing about it.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  They were cosmically bound to the orcish idiots. But there was a way of free them, only one way. A warrior whose rage would match the orc, his body would burn with holy fire. Fo'il growled softly, attempting to shake off these thoughts out of his mind. Prophecy doesn’t solve campaigns.

  It wouldn’t ever happen. The gods wouldn’t bother, not now. Fo'il thought on the ride. They had been “workers” for the goblins as far back as he could remember. As far back as anyone could remember. They were in the middle. Goblins are the worst and orcs are too strong to be overthrown. But for this scouting party, they didn’t even spare him ten hobgoblins.

  No, the only proper companion he had was his superior officer. The rest was goddam goblins. The only thing he could do. His companions were mere goblins and only his superior. She was still held back, only watching him moving forward to the spot.

  Chuckling, Fo’il could only feel contempt for the goblins. The great enemy didn’t even put up a fortification. No, they only had a strange house and the dead bodies of goblins. Well, what was left of them? Crushing them under his mount foot, he got closer, only stop with his hands raised. The mounts knew what it met, stopping instantly. But the goblins stumbled forward.

  Rolling his eyes, he merely focused on the house.His wolfish pupils stared down at the strange new building.So indefensible, so plain. It needed a rampart and at least four towers for battlements. He thought, annoyed.

  What is your assessment ?” Ravagrora asked.

  With a boyish grin, he tilted his head to his commanding officer. She was a cold bitch, but that was excepted of all hobgoblin lieutenants. Ravagrora was not kind, always pushing and moving over those who could not do it. But she was effective. That was the only important thing. She gave and followed orders and enforced discipline but still bothered with boots on the ground.

  The average black helm that every hobgoblin lieutenant covered her raven hair. It mirrored Hobgor's own midnight armor which paired well with her crimson skin. But her gaze was fixed on the strange structure. Blue sphere of focused fury simply watched for danger with her talon hand on a simple sword. Her voice was like every lieutenant firm brutal and harsh. Her voice that sharp scraping was soft but firm.

  “Report Scout” She commanded.

  “Effects from the light. I see the goblin and a human. But they seem to talk. “ Fo'il respond.

  Hobgoblins' eyesight and their ability to see things were well known. Those eyes allowed them to gather intelligence far better than any other goblinoid. But for each hobgoblin the sight was varied. Sunlight was a tactical flaw, it made things too bright and often burned the eyes. The gift of seeing in sunlight blessed Fo'il and Ravagrora. But of the two Fo'il could see far better, at least the living while Ravagora could see magic. Which was almost better.

  “No clue he is hitting the goblin which is normal. Wait wait he is saying something, but.. I can’t understand it. “

  “Then what is he just stupid ?”

  “No, he-” Robogor spoke, shaking in his boot. His eyes began to tear up, as he stared at it.

  “Answer me, damn it.” Ravagor glanced forward, looking at the stranger. She had seen it all, every magic had a tone, hue, and result. Orc magic was twisted green and always seemed too thick, like swamp goo. Goblins' magic was worse, useless, and not even worth cannon folder. It was fitting for goblins. Demon magic always had a sinister tint with sparks of copper yellow. But this was new.

  “White, it is burning white ?” Ravagor wisphered looking forward at the monster.

  “I can see it damn it all. He doesn’t even look hobgoblin. Why is it white?” He whispered.

  “We keep watch. Then we report it to the elders, this is a sign, you know.” She began with a strange new tone.

  Fo'il sighed once again. Of course, he would have to find this. None of the prophecies spoke about how or what the burning one was but, he had to see what happens to those who found destiny often died on the path to achieve it.