Gribul woke up to the sound of drums.
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
That again.
Always drums. Always early. Always noise.
He burrowed deeper under the blankets.
But someone was already opening the tent.
"MAJOR GRIBUL!"
It was the goblin assistant — the one with the annoying voice.
"Today's the day, sir! Your first mission as a major! You'll be leading twenty soldiers on the southern patrol!"
Gribul opened his eyes slowly.
Stared at the ceiling for a few seconds.
His mind empty.
Only one question echoing:
**why?**
"Twenty?!" he replied, his voice coming out kind of squeaky. "I barely know how to count to fifteen!"
The assistant laughed.
"That dark humor is your trademark! Sir, you're a genius!"
Gribul sat on the bed.
Defeated.
The armor hanging on a hook stared back at him.
He was sure it was laughing.
He put on the armor slowly.
The helmet was a bucket with holes.
The red cape — far too big — immediately began dragging on the ground as usual.
The wooden spoon — his "sword" — was tied to his waist with a makeshift string.
It was already cracked at the base.
Before leaving, he looked at the cracked mirror on the wall.
The reflection showed a skinny goblin, pale green, with dark circles and a constant expression of terror.
With a cape too long.
And a bucket on his head.
"This is me.
Gribul.
Major of the Dark Army."
He almost cried.
---
Outside, the soldiers were lined up.
Twenty demons, orcs, and one small ogre.
All silent, still, serious.
When Gribul appeared, they all shouted:
"MAJOR GRIBUL!"
They pounded their chests.
"At your service!"
Gribul tripped on the cape.
Almost fell.
But managed to straighten up at the last second.
"So… is it… marching time?" he asked.
"Yes, sir!" they all answered.
They began to march.
Gribul followed.
The cape kept tangling around his legs.
The spoon knocked against his hip, going *toc toc toc* with each step.
---
The patrol was supposed to be simple, they said.
"Just check the Bone Valley."
"See if there's enemy activity."
"Return with a report."
It sounded easy.
But Gribul was terrified.
The valley was ugly.
Gray.
Full of sharp rocks.
Full of bones — which he hoped were from animals.
The wind sounded like a sick ghost.
The soldiers walked carefully, but confidently.
Gribul walked crouched, peeking from behind them.
The cape was already ripped at the bottom.
After an hour of walking…
Nothing.
Just rocks.
Silence.
Bones.
Gribul was almost starting to relax.
Almost.
That's when he heard it.
**BOOM.**
A loud crash.
From the top of the hill, to the right.
Smoke rising.
A scream far off.
"AMBU—"
"—SH!"
"ATT—"
"—ACK!"
Everyone started shouting at once.
Gribul froze.
"MAJOR! ORDERS!" someone yelled.
Everyone looked at him.
All waiting.
He opened his mouth.
Wanted to say "run!"
But all that came out was a wet sound.
"Gblhhurp."
The soldiers froze.
Looked at each other.
"What was that?"
"Is… is that a code?"
"I've heard of this… it's the forbidden language. From the underworld."
"For sure."
"That means attack from the rear!"
"Silent movement! Surprise tactic!"
Gribul tried to explain.
But he slipped on a rock and fell face-first into the ground.
The spoon flew and landed stuck in the dirt.
The soldiers misunderstood everything.
"It's the final signal!"
"He's telling us: attack!"
"And show no mercy!"
They shouted.
Ran up the hill.
Gribul lay there.
Face down in the dirt.
Cape covering half his body.
He muttered only: "no, wait… I meant help…"
---
The sounds of battle rose.
Clashing swords.
Elven screams.
Orc laughter.
Gribul stayed where he was.
Not out of strategy.
But because he fainted right then and there.
---
When he woke up, he was still lying in the same place.
With sunlight on his face.
And a group of soldiers celebrating around him.
"Major Gribul!"
"You're a genius!"
"The way you pretended to be clueless… it was brilliant."
"Cold! Calculating! Inhuman!"
Gribul sat up slowly.
"I fell asleep?"
"Asleep?! Haha! Of course not!"
"You entered a tactical trance!"
"Looked dead! But you were… thinking!"
"Thinking…"
He looked at the sky.
Thinking if it was still possible to escape into the forest and become a fisherman.
---
They returned to camp.
The story had already spread.
"Major Silent led a patrol and wiped out the enemy!"
"Without saying a word!"
"They say he commanded with his mind!"
"And his poisoned spoon, of course."
The general summoned him.
Again.
But that…
That's a story for the next chapter.