The chief's laughing stopped immediately, and he stared at Harm. A sneer appeared on his face as he replied. "You think you can come into my clan and challenge me?"
"You just said it yourself. Anyone can challenge to become the clan leader."
"You are not a goblin or a member of the clan. You have no rights."
Rebo had returned from the hut where he had disappeared. "That ain't true, chief. You know it isn't," he said as he sat back down.
The chief looked at Rebo and snarled. "What did you say?"
Rebo shrugged. "It's how you became chief."
The chief stared at Rebo with anger.
"You weren't a clan member, and you challenged my father."
The chief growled, pushing his enormous form up from the chair that protested under his shift in weight. "Are you challenging my position?" he snarled, stepping towards Rebo.
Rebo didn't move; he just sat there and stared back at him. "No. But the human did." Again shrugging.
"He can't challenge me. He isn't a goblin."
"Not all clans are run by goblins," Rebo said.
This is what you need! Add fuel to their fire! The demonic voice cackled.
Take control! Become their leader!
Harm knelt, still watching the goblin chief tower over Rebo.
"He is a prisoner. He has no rights," the chief said.
"Where do our laws say who may challenge? Did not Garwick the gnoll run the mountain clans? Portos, the hobgoblin, used to be the chief of the clans in the plains. A clan is a clan, and not only goblins can make them up. We used to have kobolds as members before they left to form their own clan when my father ruled."
Harm was amazed at the complexity yet simplicity of the clan structure. The chief ran them, but the chief of a clan didn't have to be the same race as its members. Harm had always assumed that clans were a single race.
"If he challenges you, he has a right to do so. And if he wins, then the clan members can decide whether they should stay with him or leave. This has always been the clan way," Rebo continued.
The chief lashed out at Rebo, who scampered out of his reach. "You bastard."
"I am just stating the law," Rebo said, snarling back at the chief now.
"You have always been after the chief role," the chief spat angrily, his hand moving to the hilt of the long sword.
Rebo raised his arms placatingly. "Chief. I have always followed your lead since my father was expelled. I could have left with him, but I remained."
"You remained because you know you get a better deal under me."
Rebo laughed. "What would be better than being a chief's son?" he scoffed.
"He kept everything to himself. You know he did," the chief said.
"He did, yes. But he also made sure we always had what we needed. The clan has fallen behind, the hunting is poor, and the other clans have pushed us into the hills. They run most of the valley because you won't face their chiefs. You bullied my father and then ran here and hid."
The chief's face flushed with anger. Harm didn't realise that a goblin's skin could even go red. The chief was enraged by Rebo's comments. The long sword was drawn from its sheath, and Rebo stepped back further, keeping his distance.
"How dare you?" the chief shouted.
"I didn't dare. He did." Rebo pointed at Harm, who was still kneeling, watching the scene unfold.
The chief turned and looked at Harm, then back at Rebo.
"He challenged you, not me. I don't want the chief's position," Rebo said. "You can either face him, or you know what will happen when the news spreads."
The snarl on the chief's face showed all his teeth in their glory, their sharp points and yellowed tone adding to the look of malevolence.
"You would spread lies about me?" the chief screamed.
"What lies? A man has challenged you for the position of chief. You either accept the challenge or you must step down. Those are the clan rules."
The chief took a step towards Harm, his long sword pointing at his chest. "I could just kill him now, and you as well."
"And what about everyone else?" Rebo said. "All have heard."
Harm turned from within his bindings and could see that most of the clan had gathered around the chief's hut.
"Will you kill everyone to hide your shame?"
"SHAME. SHAME. WHAT SHAME? I AM NOT AFRAID OF A PATHETIC HUMAN."
"Then accept his challenge," Rebo said.
The chief growled and screamed an unearthly sound, which startled birds in the nearby woods, sending them flying.
"FINE," he shouted.
Harm couldn't believe what had just happened; he was in shock. He didn't even know why he had started talking about challenging the chief. Had it been him? Or was it the voice that played chaos in his mind?
Rebo gave the chief a wide berth as he stood fuming at the outcome of the conversation. He swung the long sword with agitation, staring at Harm.
Harm felt the goblin's hands on the net that still secured him as he unravelled it from around him. The relief was immeasurable as blood flowed back to parts of his body; he did not realise the net had restricted it. Harm rolled his shoulders where he knelt, not making any sudden moves.
"How shall we proceed?" he inquired, his voice frigid.
Am I really challenging a goblin chief to become the chief of a clan? He thought.
It is a rule of clan law! The demonic voice cackled.
"The rules are simple. You fight the chief for the right to lead. If you win, either by submission or death, then the position of chief is yours," Rebo said.
Harm slowly stood, cautious to make any sudden movements as Rebo backed away and the chief faced him. The goblins, who had been watching, also backed away, creating a wide space around them.
The goblin chief looked at Harm, its eyes narrowed and the violent snarl still on its face.
"Begin when you are ready," Rebo said.
"You think you can challenge me?" The chief spat as he charged.
Harm wasn't sure what to expect, although he stood, paused, waiting, and the instant the chief started towards him, he triggered Equip at the same time as calling Florence. In an instant, his armour appeared, with his sword in his hand. The chief swung the long sword with significant power, and Harm lifted Florence to block the blow, his recent training paying dividends. He stood slightly taller than the chief, but the chief's bulk added power to his swings, and Harm's muscles protested as the blades clanged violently, holding the blade at bay, gripped in both his hands.
The chief pushed his weight at Harm, and Harm stepped back, trying to brace against it. His feet slipped backwards in the dirt. The chief kept pushing, forcing his weight behind his blow. Harm strained; his muscles still weren't anywhere near his prime fighting days. He went back in response, then quickly stepped away, releasing the pressure ever so slightly, but enough to allow him to move. He was more agile than the chief, and he ensured he gave himself some space, already panting from the exertion of holding the chief at bay.
Harm lifted his blade defensively, watching the chief's every move. From the opening attack, it was evident to Harm and his skilled eye that the chief used his brawn over any skill. His attacks would be powerful but deliberate; he expected little else from what he had seen.
The chief again moved forward, his feet creating dust clouds as he swung his blade at Harm. It cleaved through the air, aimed at his side. Harm placed one palm on Florence's flat side as the chief's blade connected. Again, its impact sent shock waves through Harm's body, but his block held. Since the chief had swung from the side, he couldn't add any more weight to his attack, so he pulled the blade back again and stepped away.
Harm took the opening this created and swiftly stepped forward, bringing Florence across his body in a slashing motion. It was only a one-handed move, but it made the chief stumble backwards further.
Kill him! Finish him! The demon cried.
Harm gritted his teeth, sneering at the chief. His size would be his downfall. With the increased distance between the two combatants, the chief swung the blade up above his head and charged again. Swinging it down towards Harm. The move was so easy to read, and an error many made on the training grounds. It left you open for a frontal assault, and with his new pauldrons on, Harm triggered his Bash skill. He shot forward in an instant, his shoulder ploughing into the chief. Florence was now held in both hands at his side. As he met the chief's bulk, his body stopped dead, his pauldrons and leather jacket absorbing much of the blow. It still jolted his shoulder, but it throbbed and wasn't damaged as it had been with Jojo.
As he had dashed forward, he had thrust Florence, adding to her momentum before his shoulder had met with the chief's body.
The chief's eyes were wide as he peered down. Florence had penetrated his chain shirt. The blade entered just above his belt. The chief released his grip on his long sword with one hand as it fell to the side, his free hand coming down to rest on Florence, now sticking through his abdomen. Wild strikes on chain mail were pointless; Harm knew from his adventuring days. If you wanted to penetrate it, you had to use the point of the sword. It was usually not a straightforward task, but with the help of Bash and the momentum and stupidity of his enemy, it had allowed Florence to pierce the chain shirt as though it were butter.
Harm grunted, stepping back and withdrawing the blade from the chief's stomach, the pungent scent of blood filling his nostrils. The chief didn't scream or cry. He just stared in shock at the blood that now ran down his mail shirt. It still held its long sword in one hand, the tip resting in the dirt, its other hand across the wound.
"Do you submit?" Harm growled.
The chief looked up from the wound it had suffered and met Harm's eyes. Harm knew the response before it came. The chief's blade swung haphazardly towards him. Harm parried the blow, pushing it to one side.
"I asked if you submit?" Harm repeated, more forcefully.
Again, the chief didn't respond, bringing the long sword back around weakly, his breathing laboured and forced. Florence had penetrated right through. Harm knew that as she had been driven to her hilt. The goblin's organs would be damaged, and the blood that filtered from the wound was dark and ran freely—each second adding to the trail of brown that followed the goblin's movements in the dirt.
Harm knew he could just keep defending the chief's strikes until he succumbed to the wound, but he was a fighter and had killed many goblins in his past. He had no feelings or emotions as he brought Florence back, holding her in two hands at his shoulder, the point facing the chief.
"Last chance, surrender or die."
The chief screamed, blood appearing in its mouth from its internal injuries, its face fuelled with anger and desperation, teeth gnashing as it gripped the long sword in two hands and tried to lift it. The blood loss weakened it severely. Harm took that as his answer and stepped forward, thrusting the blade's point towards the face of the chief. The chief was too slow and injured to react in time, and as Florence pierced its eyes, the blade cut through bone and sinew, puncturing its brain. Harm withdrew the blade as the chief collapsed to the ground, dead, his body spasming only once as it released its effluence.
Harm almost gagged from the rancid stench as he stepped away.
He was panting heavily as he turned and looked at the surrounding goblins. They stood in silence. Some appeared shocked; others smiled. There was a mix of uncertainty and fear on their faces.
Harm spoke. "Anyone want to challenge your new chief?"
Laughter was all that filled Harm's mind, his demon giggling, cackling and hooting with pleasure.
