Corvus did not waste any time as he landed on the rough-hewn wooden table with a soft thud, his talons clicking against the surface with the precise control of a creature that had spent centuries perfecting the art of dramatic entrances. His feathers were dark as midnight, each one seeming to absorb the runic light rather than reflect it, and his presence immediately commanded the attention of every person in the chamber. The ancient raven had an uncanny ability to control the atmosphere of any room he entered, his intelligent eyes holding depths of knowledge that made even the most experienced among us feel like children.
The crow had been flying nonstop while we slept, his tireless reconnaissance covering distances that would have taken our fastest runners days to traverse. For him to have returned so soon meant that he had flown far enough to complete his preliminary checks of the unknown lands beyond our territory, pushing himself to the limits of his considerable endurance to bring back intelligence that could reshape our understanding of the region.
And of course, he had produced results. Corvus never returned empty-handed—it was a point of professional pride for the ancient creature.
"Your suspicion, Speaker, was correct," he said in that cultured voice that never failed to surprise newcomers. The raven's ability to speak had been shocking enough when I first summoned him, but it was the intelligence behind his words, the sardonic wit and centuries of accumulated wisdom, that truly set him apart from any normal animal companion. He ruffled his feathers in what I had learned to recognize as a complex emotional display—part agitation at my being proven right, part satisfaction at his own competence, and something else that I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to understand.
The council members leaned forward almost in unison, their previous discussions of theoretical expansion suddenly becoming very real and immediate. Leo's hammer-callused hands gripped the edge of the table, while Maria's fingers worried at a small piece of wood she'd been carving. Samuel's holy symbol caught the runic light as his breathing quickened, and Torvin's scarred features settled into the focused attention of a soldier receiving battlefield intelligence.
Gnar's single eye fixed on Corvus with the intensity of a predator evaluating potential prey, though I knew the Hobgoblin War-Chief well enough by now to recognize this as his version of respectful attention. Elara sat perfectly still beside me, but I could feel the coiled tension in her posture through our mental link—she was already processing implications and calculating tactical responses to whatever Corvus was about to reveal.
"I flew fast and far, not bothering to conduct detailed surveillance of areas with too much foot traffic," Corvus continued, his black eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Speed was more important than comprehensive analysis for this initial reconnaissance. But that approach yielded immediate dividends."
He began moving across the table with short, precise hops, his talons scratching faint marks in the wood as he traced invisible maps. "I spotted three goblin settlements within a day's hard march of your burgeoning kingdom. Actually, that terminology may be optimistic—two of those settlements appear to be little more than fortified camps, and they were actively engaged in warfare when I passed overhead."
The raven paused, tilting his head in that peculiar way birds did when considering complex information. "The conflict appeared to be over territory, specifically control of a small river valley that provides access to both fresh water and a natural ford. Classic resource competition, with all the tactical predictability that implies."
I felt my analytical mind immediately begin processing this information, cross-referencing it with everything we knew about goblin tribal behavior and regional geography. Three settlements meant three separate power structures, three different sets of potential allies or enemies, and three distinct opportunities for either diplomacy or exploitation.
"What were their relative strengths?" I asked, my Scholar's instincts demanding detailed intelligence before making any strategic assessments.
Corvus preened slightly, clearly pleased to demonstrate his observational skills. "The western settlement appears to be the aggressor—larger population, better organization, superior equipment. I counted approximately forty combatants, with what appeared to be basic tribal hierarchy and rudimentary military structure. Their leader carried himself with the confidence of someone accustomed to victory."
"The eastern settlement was clearly on the defensive," he continued, hopping to a different position on the table to indicate geographic relationships. "Smaller group, maybe twenty-five individuals total including non-combatants. They had taken defensive positions in a natural chokepoint, but their equipment was inferior and their morale appeared to be deteriorating rapidly."
Maria shifted uncomfortably. "So we're looking at a massacre in progress?"
"Most likely," Corvus confirmed with the clinical detachment of someone who had witnessed countless such conflicts over the centuries. "Unless external factors intervene, the western tribe will overwhelm the eastern settlement within days, possibly hours depending on how aggressively they press their advantage."
I felt the familiar weight of strategic decision-making settling on my shoulders. Here was exactly the kind of opportunity I had been describing to the council—a situation where we could potentially recruit desperate allies while simultaneously eliminating a potential threat. But it also represented our first real test of whether we were ready to project power beyond our immediate territory.
"What about the third settlement?" Elara asked, her Captain's training demanding complete intelligence before considering action.
"Ah, the third group is the most interesting," Corvus said, his voice taking on a note of intrigue that made everyone lean forward. "They're positioned roughly equidistant from the other two, occupying high ground that gives them excellent observation of the ongoing conflict. From their behavior, I believe they're waiting to see which side emerges victorious before making their own move."
Gnar growled low in his throat, a sound that carried undertones of professional respect. "Scavengers. Let the strong and weak bleed each other, then feast on the survivors."
"Precisely," Corvus agreed. "Classic goblin politics—avoid unnecessary risk while positioning yourself to benefit from others' conflicts. They had scouts watching the battle, but they're being very careful not to commit to either side."
Torvin cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp in the chamber's tense atmosphere. "Smart tactics, if you don't mind being seen as cowards by everyone around you."
"Intelligence, not cowardice," I corrected, though I understood his perspective. "They're maximizing their chances of survival while minimizing resource expenditure. From a purely strategic standpoint, it's actually quite sophisticated."
Samuel's voice carried a note of moral concern as he spoke. "If we're considering intervention, we need to understand the nature of these conflicts. Are we looking at territorial disputes, resource competition, or something more fundamental?"
"An excellent question," Corvus acknowledged. "From what I observed, this appears to be a classic succession crisis. The original tribe has splintered following the death of their chief, with different factions supporting different claimants to leadership. The western group follows the chief's eldest son, while the eastern settlement has rallied behind his younger brother."
"And the third group?" I asked.
"The chief's daughter," Corvus said with evident amusement. "Who, according to goblin tradition, has no legitimate claim to leadership but apparently possesses enough cunning and political support to maintain an independent faction."
The implications hit me immediately, and I could see understanding dawning on the faces of my council members. This wasn't just a random territorial conflict—it was a civil war with clearly defined factions and competing claims to legitimacy. That meant potential opportunities for negotiation, alliance-building, or strategic manipulation that wouldn't exist in a simple resource dispute.
"Now, here comes the most important part," Corvus continued, his tone shifting to indicate that the goblin intelligence had been merely preliminary information. "Survivors. It seems that your assessment was correct, Speaker. The more mountainous the terrain became as I flew north and west, the more evidence I found of human activity."
Every person in the chamber went completely still. This was what we had been hoping for, the confirmation that our expansion strategy had solid foundations in reality rather than wishful thinking.
"I discovered what appears to be an established settlement in the mountainous terrain you specifically directed me to scout," Corvus said, his voice carrying the satisfaction of a job well done. "High elevation, excellent defensive position, clear evidence of systematic construction and resource management."
"How many people?" Elara asked immediately, her tactical mind focusing on the most crucial variables.
"Difficult to determine precisely from aerial observation," Corvus admitted. "But I counted at least fifteen individual structures, with smoke from multiple cooking fires and clear evidence of organized activity. My estimate would be between thirty and fifty individuals, possibly more."
Leo whistled softly. "That's nearly as large as we are."
"Larger, if my upper estimate is correct," I said, feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension. A settlement that size represented enormous potential—for alliance, for resource sharing, for combined defense against larger threats. But it also represented significant risks, since any group that had survived long enough to build a permanent mountain settlement had to possess considerable military capabilities and strategic acumen.
"What was their defensive posture?" Gnar asked with professional interest.
"Impressive," Corvus replied. "They've chosen their location well—natural barriers on three sides, with the only approach being a narrow switchback trail that could be held by a handful of defenders against much larger forces. I observed organized patrols, designated watch positions, and what appeared to be prepared defensive works."
"They know what they're doing," Torvin said approvingly. "Question is, are they friendly to other survivors or do they shoot first and ask questions later?"
"Unknown," Corvus admitted. "I maintained sufficient altitude to avoid detection, so I couldn't assess their specific policies regarding contact with outsiders. However, the fact that they've survived long enough to establish permanent structures suggests they're either very good at avoiding conflicts or very good at winning them."
Samuel's thoughtful voice cut through the tactical speculation. "Did you observe any evidence of their spiritual practices? Religious symbols, dedicated spaces for worship, anything that might indicate their relationship with the divine?"
"Interesting question," Corvus mused. "I did notice what appeared to be a dedicated structure that might serve ceremonial purposes—different architectural style from the residential buildings, positioned prominently within the settlement. Whether that indicates organized religious practice or simply community meeting space, I cannot say definitively."
I found myself unconsciously reaching for my notebook, my Scholar's instincts demanding that I record every detail of this intelligence while it was fresh. The implications were staggering—not just the immediate tactical opportunities, but the longer-term strategic possibilities that came with discovering an established human settlement that had achieved genuine stability.
"Were there any signs of ongoing conflicts with local threats?" I asked, my analytical mind working through the factors that would determine whether this represented opportunity or liability.
"None that I observed directly," Corvus replied. "However, their defensive preparations suggest they've had to deal with significant external pressures. The question is whether those pressures come from monster populations, hostile goblin tribes, other human settlements, or some combination of all three."
Maria leaned forward, her woodworker's eye for detail focusing on practical considerations. "What about their resource situation? Were they struggling to maintain their position, or did they appear to be thriving?"
"Good question," Corvus acknowledged. "From what I could observe, they appear to have achieved sustainable resource management. I saw evidence of terraced agriculture, organized lumber harvesting, and what might have been mining operations. Whether they're thriving or merely surviving would require closer observation."
The council chamber fell silent as the implications of Corvus's report settled over us. The raven's intelligence had confirmed what I'd suspected—we weren't alone in this hostile world. A human settlement, thriving in the mountains. Three warring goblin tribes tearing each other apart in a succession crisis. The pieces of a much larger game board were suddenly revealed, and I could feel the weight of every eye in the room as they all turned to me.
I savored the moment, letting my gaze drift across the weathered wooden table we'd salvaged from Grul's hall. The surface was stained with years of spilled mead and goblin blood, but now it served as the center of our fledgling civilization's leadership. Leo's fingers nervously drummed against the wood grain. Maria's lips were pressed into a thin, concerned line. Samuel's eyes gleamed with that familiar zealous light that appeared whenever a new challenge presented itself. Gnar sat perfectly still, his new hobgoblin physiology allowing him a soldier's patience. Torvin's expression remained thoughtful, tactical. And Elara… my Captain, my confidant, my conscience… her emerald eyes studied me with that particular mix of concern and curiosity I'd come to recognize.
The heavy silence was exactly what I needed to organize my thoughts. The System pulsed in the back of my mind, confirming what my Scholar's Analysis had already calculated: this changed everything.
"This is exactly what I was hoping for," I finally said, my voice cutting through the tension like a well-honed blade.
I watched as every council member snapped out of their private deliberations, their attention laser-focused on me. Even Corvus, perched on the wooden beam above us, cocked his ancient head to one side, his obsidian eyes glittering with that cynical intelligence I'd come to appreciate.
"Hoping for?" Elara's voice carried a note of caution that I'd learned to heed. "Kale, this could spiral into something far worse than our current situation."
I rose from my chair, allowing myself to feel the full weight of my responsibility as I placed both palms flat on the table's surface. The rough texture of the wood grounded me as I chose my next words carefully.
"Consider the implications," I said, pacing slowly around the table. "This mountain settlement—what if they aren't accepting of outsiders? What if they've fallen under the influence of some devilish deity like the ones Althea described? The whispers in the dark that corrupted her former companions?"
I let that sink in, watching Samuel's expression darken at the mention of dark gods. His hand instinctively touched the golden sunburst symbol of Lathander hanging from his neck.
"More importantly," I continued, "we have a narrow window of opportunity. If we don't begin to act immediately, we may witness the potential destruction of this settlement. The goblin civil war Corvus described is the only thing distracting them from launching raids against these mountain-dwellers. When one goblin faction emerges victorious—and one will—they'll turn their attention outward."
I gestured toward Corvus, who preened slightly at being the center of attention.
"Now that you've all witnessed a prime example of Corvus's effectiveness as our intelligence network, I assume there's no further question as to our next course of action."
I paused, letting my gaze sweep across each council member in turn, a technique I'd learned from my economics professor back on Earth—a lifetime ago.
"This settlement we've found, and the people there, have been fighting the same enemies we have. We are not alone in this world." I let my voice drop to a more somber tone. "But if we allow this goblin conflict to continue without our involvement, we may well find ourselves surrounded by enemies on all sides."
The System notification pulsed in my consciousness, confirming what I already knew:
[Strategic Assessment: Accurate
Tactical Opportunity Identified: Regional Alliance Building
Reward: +15 XP]
I suppressed a smile at the trivial XP gain. The real reward would be what came next.
"Therefore," I said, straightening to my full height, "I've made my decision. Myself and Elara, along with half of the Gutter-Guard, will be departing at first light tomorrow morning."
Leo opened his mouth to object, but I raised my hand, silencing him with a gesture that had become second nature since I'd taken on the mantle of leadership.
"Moving on to our internal affairs," I pivoted, turning my attention to Torvin and Gnar. The dwarf and the hobgoblin made an odd pair—one stocky and gruff, the other tall and disciplined—yet they'd formed an unexpectedly effective partnership.
"Torvin, Gnar," I addressed them directly, "I've observed your efforts with the goblin conscripts."
It truly was remarkable what they'd accomplished. When we'd first captured those goblins, they'd been cowering, pathetic creatures, dropping to their knees and begging for mercy in their broken speech. Under Torvin's gruff tutelage and Gnar's stern example, that fearful submission had transformed into something approaching genuine loyalty to our settlement.
"I believe we've delayed their full integration long enough," I decided. "Bring them in. I'll personally see they're granted contracts and formally accepted into the Grotto."
I noticed Maria's lips tighten with disapproval. She'd lost family to goblins before we found her. But we couldn't afford her prejudice, not when every able body counted.
"These aren't the same creatures that raided your settlement, Maria," I said softly, addressing her concerns directly. "They've been trained, disciplined. And they'll be bound by contract to the same rules that govern us all."
Samuel nodded in agreement. "Lathander's light shines on all who seek redemption."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his religious platitude, however useful it might be in this moment. Instead, I surveyed the table one final time.
"Any objections?" I asked, knowing full well that even if there were, my decision was made.
Elara caught my eye, a half-smile playing on her lips. She knew exactly what I was doing—solidifying our core while preparing to extend our influence. It was the same strategy we'd employed against Grul, writ large across a much bigger game board.
"We leave at dawn," she said, rising from her seat. "I'll prepare the Gutter-Guard."
As the council dispersed, I remained at the table, fingers tracing the ancient carvings on its surface. Tomorrow would bring us face to face with other survivors from Earth—people who'd built their own settlement, developed their own power structures, possibly even formed allegiances with their own gods.
I felt the familiar tingle of the Soul-Scar on my arm, the price I'd paid for using the Rune of Unraveling against Grul. A reminder that power always came with a cost.
"Well," Corvus's gravelly voice interrupted my thoughts as he fluttered down to perch on the table before me. "You certainly know how to make dramatic pronouncements, Blessed One."
I shot him a withering look. "Save the sarcasm for creatures who might be impressed by it."
The ancient raven made a sound suspiciously like laughter. "They'll follow you, you know. Not because you're blessed, or clever, or even right. But because in a world gone mad, you act like you have a plan."
I stared into his ancient eyes. "I do have a plan, Corvus."
"Oh, I know you do," the raven replied, spreading his wings. "I just wonder if even you understand what it will cost."
As he took flight, disappearing through the open window, I couldn't help but wonder the same thing.