It took a few more cycles, but now we have plenty of pockets and pouches full of safety mud. The only downside is my sadly lagging personal resources.

  On the one hand, this may be a little overboard with my energy reserves. I’m uncomfortably low, for certain. However, one also can’t have too much mud! On the plus side, this laborious endeavor has acted as a lovely, unexpected training regimen, tugging my songs even further towards the top.

  Fully loaded and ready, we’re now only left with the daunting prospect of where to go. If I really wish to free the goblins, then I must find whoever’s holding the shackles. I really hope it’s not the head. Returning there again would be very unpleasant. Especially since I wasted his time by not eating that fruit.

  However, where else can I go? The pit, the mound, the head’s domain, and Kyklos. None of these destinations are interesting anymore. That list must get expanded. Oh, what I need is a map of the possibilities. Exactly like those I stole from the big ones. Where in the void can one acquire a map?

  “Peed. War… wel?” I clumsily stammer in the direction of the helpful service agent who’s always patiently waiting everywhere within the mud to help.

  Silence. I guess he doesn’t answer questions, which makes sense since I’ve never seen him actually speak to anyone. I suppose that he’s merely a mud of action.

  “Peed. Con dur. Gew wel,” I aimlessly try again, but still only receive silence in return.

  Annoying. What did the big ones call that place where they kept all their valuables? A market? There’s no chance that the goblins have a word for that, whatever it is. If such a place even exists on this side. Let’s see. Let’s try to guess at a better definition of the market. It has those stalls. The stalls hold all the valuables. Often the valuables are kept in boxes to keep them safe and organized within the stalls. Oh! The boxes. That last time, I tried asking for the box cave, but that was far too bizarre and unspecific of a request to work. Really, where I want to go is wherever they’re keeping the boxes. Whatever that thing is. It doesn’t have to specifically be a cave.

  “Peed! Con dur. Gew hol. Hol hol!” I excitedly requisition, confident in my carefully reasoned conclusion.

  My genius never ceasing to amaze me, the portal opens exactly as ordered. Grabbing Ha’koff’s leash, I almost bound off but then force myself to stop.

  “Ha’koff?” I meekly ask.

  “Hm?” he carelessly replies, looking up from his position lying splayed out on the ground.

  “Gew dur? Don ennu. Har ennu. Non?” I carefully explain, offering good reasons for him to follow me rather than brutishly dragging him along for the ride.

  “Har? Hm,” he pauses, squinting his eyes to think it over. “Ennu ennu.”

  Shrugging his shoulders, he gets up and heads straight into the portal without a fuss. Would it’ve always been that easy if I simply asked? No, no, Ha’koff’s grown a great deal since I first took him under my wing. Besides, even if he’s a lot more reasonable and self directed now, I do still need to keep his leash tied to my belt for safety’s sake. One step at a time.

  After quickly scurrying to catch up, the other side reveals itself to be incredibly dreary. Stacks and stacks of boxes everywhere. They’re all piled high, forming somewhat of a shoddy maze. It’s suffocating. The portal disappears, but I’m fairly confident that I can call another. Especially with all the mud in my pouches.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Ha’koff,” I calmly request again. “Agobs gew. Deeg wel.”

  “Yas yas,” he replies, already seeming somewhat bored with the monotonous and uninteresting new surroundings.

  Parting our way through the boxes, I choose a semi random route through the maze. Every time the path splits, I use my knife to cut notches in the base of the boxes to mark where we came from. Then whenever we hit a dead end, it’s simply a matter of turning around and trying another option.

  Eventually, we find ourselves in an open atrium hidden somewhere within the maze. At its center, a strange, bullish creature sits in a chair, hunched over an enormous, cluttered desk. Papers, inkwells, books, and other assorted disarray are neglectfully littered everywhere. He doesn’t yet seem to notice that we’ve intruded into his home. Thankfully, he doesn’t give off any of the dangerous energies that many of the other residents do.

  “Awk!” I politely squawk in greeting. “War har?”

  At the sound of my voice, the beast suddenly stands up ramrod straight, scattering many of the papers and other precariously stacked nearby things to the ground.

  “You?!” he screams, displaying by far the most energy since our arrival.

  A moment later, he falls back down into his chair, grumpily melting and molding his many layers of fat into the convenient shape and structure that it provides.

  “It figures that you’d eventually come here too.”

  “Wat?” I question, surprised that he seems to be expecting us.

  “Look, I wish that I could give you my job like you want, believe me. But I can’t. It’s impossible. It isn’t possible for any of us. You have to understand!”

  “Scrul? Wat scrul?”

  “You didn’t come here to interfere like you did with the others?”

  “Non?” I reply in confusion.

  Turning to Ha’koff to check if he understands the situation any better, he only looks bored and ready to go back home. I really have to figure out how to keep him more entertained on these long trips.

  “What? Then why in the world of all places are you here?”

  “Oat– Oat… Akgh!” I attempt to communicate my intentions, but give up after hitting a hard wall of restricted speech.

  Of course, why would we ever need a word for map? Why would it even be allowed? It’d only cause trouble amongst the goblins if they knew there are other places that they’re missing out on. Taking note of the paper and ink on the desk, I eagerly shuffle towards it in order to write a helpful message explaining the situation instead.

  “What are you doing?” the creature yells, throwing his large body over all the clutter to protect it. “You said you weren’t here for that!”

  Politely stopping myself, I pause to consider other options. All of my paper is stored away in pockets. After all, why would I ever need it amongst goblinkind? Attempting to create a little pocket, the failure verifies that we’re definitely still restricted here. Further, laborious innovation is always necessary, isn’t it?

  Thinking back, I recall that mysterious, first walking stick that I met. His impressive mastery when working with the ladder. Well, I can work with the ladder too, no? If so, then can’t I also create extra, little light panels of my own?

  Pulling out my personal status, I amplify my eyes, focus on the ladder, and search for a free thread. It takes some work, but eventually I find one.

  Excellent. Now, just repeat exactly as was done to create my maps panel. I simply need to pull on this thread and create another, smaller panel. I quickly dig my claws into my right thigh, drawing enough blood to thoroughly cover them for the upcoming endeavor.

  “What in the…? I’ve heard all the stories about you crazy goblins, but I’ve never seen it up close.”

  Ignoring the interloper, I grab the thread with my claws and carefully pull. At first it resists, but then with a pop it slowly unspools from the main panel, gradually shrinking it smaller and smaller as a consequence. No matter, since I only ever use it for my personal details anymore anyways. Both the attributes and raw song list there are almost completely useless now.

  Long, exposed thread in hand, I’m lost for a moment on what to do next. However, the stick’s work being only minimally inspirational due to its complexity, I decide to keep it simple. Let’s make it into a spiral shape against the flat of my other hand. After a short bit of careful effort later, the thread decides to come together on its own, forming into a more coherent, simple panel.

  A moment after the notification, the light finishes setting into a single, solid piece, and I have a lovely new panel ready to go. Finally, my bloody claws roughly scrawl across its surface, artfully circumventing my tiny, limited vocal chords. Then, after turning the fresh panel to face the creature, I proudly display my work.