Gobkichi and I went hunting again this morning. By evening, we had secured a substantial haul, including armored raccoon dogs and triple-horned horses. If I got the chef sisters to cook this up, we’d have a delicious meal tonight.
Before that could happen, we encountered some goblins on our way back. They weren’t unfamiliar faces; they were six of the older goblins who used to be among the higher ranks. However, they’ve since been outpaced by the younger goblins who showed potential through training, ultimately surpassing the older ones.
Basically, these older goblins couldn’t keep up with the training and dropped out. But that’s not relevant now.
Seeing them, I was about to ask, “What are you doing here?” but I noticed they seemed anxious. I observed them silently. Perhaps realizing they couldn’t hide it anymore, or maybe they couldn’t bear the tension, the most skilled among them spoke up.
He said they couldn’t follow me anymore. It was hard enough that they could no longer forcibly take women as they used to, but the daily training was unbearably harsh. They’d been enduring it, hoping for some opportunity to excel, but capturing the elven women had made it impossible for them to hold on. They couldn’t stand the fact that they would never get to touch the exquisite bodies of the elven women, while others could because they were stronger. They said it was like being tantalized with a gourmet meal they could never taste. So, they had decided to leave.
They were essentially defecting from the group. After I said as much, they fell silent, trembling. Perhaps they thought they would be killed. But to me, this was nothing out of the ordinary. These goblins were no longer necessary to keep around if they couldn’t comply anyway. I might intervene if it were Gobkichi or someone of his caliber trying to leave, but not for guys like these. My rules are strict, but anyone is free to leave if they don’t like them.
If someone broke my rules and then tried to escape, I would chase them down and kill them. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case here, and since I’ve been more focused on improving individual abilities than increasing numbers, this really wasn’t a big deal.
This approach is better than adding more useless burdens to our community; it’s more beneficial to consider adding capable allies for the future. Therefore, I had no intention of forcibly keeping those who had already given up. I was even willing to lend a hand to those who lacked natural talent but still tried to put in the effort, but these six goblins had already chosen to give up and leave. I wouldn’t stop them, nor would I kill them here.
Still, I needed to take some measures to ensure that no information leaked. Observing the older goblins, who were trembling and looking up at me with tense expressions, I noted that their current equipment was all standard gear that I had distributed—the lowest rank, or one step above. They hadn’t stolen the weapons in the armory, which included some rare items, likely because they thought they would be killed if they did. They were right.
Returning to the matter at hand, while their equipment was decent for goblins, it was clear that with their lackluster skill, they would find it difficult to survive without the advantage of numbers. So, I decided that it would be kind to send them off with a parting gift.
From my item box, I took out six knives. These knives were among the items Velvet left behind. The blades were made of blue silver—identified as mithril, a magical metal. These knives were far too luxurious for mere goblins to possess. Although they lacked any special abilities, their sharpness was certainly unmatched by the steel short swords the goblins currently carried. To illustrate my point, a mithril blade could easily cut through a steel short sword without chipping.
Mithril knives, crafted using techniques exclusive to elves, are rare even among adventurers. To demonstrate the sharpness of the mithril blade, I shallowly cut my own fingertip and let a few drops of blood fall before sheathing the knife again and handing the whole set over to the goblins.
The older goblins stood there, dumbfounded. With a wry smile, Gobkichi and I turned and headed home, never looking back at those who had chosen to leave. Perhaps we would encounter them again if fate allowed, but there was a high probability that adventurers would kill them for those mithril knives. It’s a common story that treasures beyond one’s means invite ruin. I could only hope they would do their best in the future.
The key point this time was the blood I had shed.