The next morning, we meet our guide at the eastern gate—a weathered man named Bryce who looks like he's spent most of his life outdoors. He leads us north along a well-traveled road that eventually branches onto a narrower path winding into increasingly rugged hills.

  "Mine's just ahead," Bryce announces after several hours of hiking. We crest a rise to see a large excavation carved into a hillside. Wooden structures frame the entrance, but they look abandoned—tools scattered, a cart overturned, no workers in sight.

  "What happened here exactly?" I ask as we approach.

  Bryce shrugs. "Started with noises. Knocking in the walls. Then tools going missing. Then men." He points to the dark entrance. "Last crew went in five days ago. None came out. Lord Keenan's offering good money 'cause no local will set foot near it now."

  "Helpful," I mutter. "Any idea what's causing the trouble?"

  "Some say old mountain spirits angry about the digging. Others think bandits using the tunnels." He scratches his beard. "Me? I think it's goblins. Nasty little bastards love dark places."

  At this, my disguised goblin scouts exchange glances. Nerk maintains his stoic mercenary appearance, but I can tell he's amused.

  "Goblins, huh?" I keep my tone neutral. "We can handle those."

  Bryce hands me a crude map of the mine. "Main shaft goes back about two hundred paces, with smaller tunnels branching off. Newest dig is to the northeast, where they found the richest vein." He backs away slowly. "I'll wait here. Outside. In the sunlight."

  "Fine. If we're not back by nightfall, tell Lord Keenan to send more men. A lot more."

  After Bryce retreats to a safe distance, I gather my strange company close.

  "Drop the act now," I tell the disguised goblins. "We need you alert, not pretending to be human."

  They visibly relax, their postures returning to a more natural crouch despite maintaining their human appearance.

  "Nerk, you take point with me. Morrigan in the middle for magical support. Goblins in rear with bows ready." I examine the mine entrance. "If there are goblins in there, we try talking first. Could be potential recruits."

  "And if not receptive to talk?" Nerk asks, checking his crude but effective battleaxe.

  "Then we have combat practice," I reply grimly. "Let's move."

  The mine entrance leads to a broad tunnel reinforced with timber supports. Abandoned lanterns hang at intervals, which Morrigan lights with a whispered spell. The air grows cooler and damper as we descend, smelling of earth and metal with an underlying rankness that suggests habitation.

  About a hundred paces in, Nerk freezes, raising a fist to halt our progress.

  "Smell goblins," he confirms in a whisper. "Recent. Many."

  One of our scouts sniffs the air and nods in agreement. "Same as tribe," he whispers. "Regular goblins. Not bog-goblins or fire-goblins. Good."

  I'm relieved to hear it, I don't want to fight one of the weird monsters Morrigan described last night. Too many unexpected variables.

  "How far?" I ask.

  Nerk points to where the main tunnel splits into three smaller passages. "Close. Northeast tunnel, where rich ore is. Smart—they taking over best part of mine."

  We advance cautiously toward the junction. As we near it, I can make out crude barricades constructed at each tunnel entrance—stacked mining carts, broken timbers, and piled rocks. Behind one, a pair of yellow eyes gleams briefly before disappearing.

  "They know we're here," I mutter. "Nerk, can you communicate with them? Tell them we're not with the mining operation?"

  The disguised hobgoblin nods, then steps forward, still maintaining his human appearance. He calls out in the guttural goblin language, his voice echoing against the stone walls.

  A reply comes from behind the northeast barricade—suspicious, questioning.

  "They ask who we are," Morrigan translates. "Why we come to their new territory."

  Nerk then responds, gesturing toward me as he speaks. The conversation continues for several minutes, with multiple goblin voices eventually joining in.

  "What are they saying?" I ask Morrigan quietly.

  "They are suspicious but curious. Their tribe was driven from hills by humans with burning weapons—fire sticks, maybe muskets or flintlocks. Found mine, good place to hide and rebuild." She listens to more chatter. "About thirty goblins total. Ten warriors, rest females and young."

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  Perfect, exactly what we need. A vulnerable goblin tribe looking for protection, and just regular goblins that would integrate easily with our existing force.

  "Tell them I'm a tamer," I suggest. "That I can offer protection and make them stronger."

  Nerk relays this, which causes an immediate stir behind the barricades. A heated discussion breaks out among the hidden goblins.

  "They not believe," Nerk whispers. "Never met a tamer before. Ask for proof."

  "Show them you," I decide. "Drop your glamour."

  Nerk nods, then steps forward into better light. The magical disguise shimmers and falls away, revealing his true hobgoblin form—nearly six feet of muscle, horns, and greenish-gray skin. A collective gasp echoes from behind the barricades.

  "Tell them I made you evolve," I say. "That all goblins who follow me grow stronger."

  Nerk translates, adding embellishments about our growing power and successes. More excited chatter follows.

  Finally, the barricade shifts, and a goblin emerges. He's older, with a gray-green hide and a necklace of small animal skulls marking him as their leader or shaman. He approaches cautiously, staring at Nerk with naked awe.

  "You... changed?" he asks in broken common speech, pointing at Nerk. "Human make you big?"

  Nerk pounds his chest proudly. "Master made Nerk evolve. Made Nerk leader. Made Nerk's tribe stronger." He gestures to our goblin scouts, who now also drop their glamours to reveal their improved physiques. "All who follow master grow stronger."

  The goblin leader circles Nerk, studying him from every angle. "How? What cost?"

  "Loyalty," I step forward. "Follow me, and I channel power to you through Nerk. Your tribe becomes part of our tribe. You grow stronger. I protect you from humans with fire sticks."

  The old goblin considers this, his yellow eyes narrowing. "Prove power. Show magic."

  I nod to Nerk, who understands immediately. He kneels before me, and I place my hand on his shoulder, deliberately channeling energy through our bond. The effect is visible—green light coursing over Nerk's skin, his muscles briefly enlarging, his eyes glowing.

  "This just taste," I say as Nerk rises, looking even more imposing. "Join us, and all your warriors can begin this path."

  The goblin leader backs away, then barks orders to his hidden tribe. Slowly, the barricade is dismantled, and more goblins emerge—warriors first, then others. They're ragged, clearly having suffered in their flight from the hills, but their eyes are filled with hope as they stare at Nerk.

  "We join," the leader decides. "Better than hide in dark. Better than wait for humans to find us."

  I feel a surge of satisfaction. Thirty more goblins—exactly the kind I wanted—added to our network in one fell swoop. No combat necessary, no essence harvesting required. Just willing followers who'll strengthen our bond network exponentially.

  "Good choice," I tell him, extending my hand. "What's your name?"

  "Griznak," he replies, grasping my forearm in a warrior's grip. "Tribe follow Griznak. Griznak follow you now."

  I can already feel the network expanding, power flowing through Nerk to encompass these new additions. With these numbers, my third slot might open soon—then I can find something specialized for melee combat to complement my growing army.

  "You made right choice, Griznak," I say, genuinely pleased. "Now let's talk about getting your people out of this mine and making it look like we cleared out a 'goblin infestation' for our employers."

  Griznak's wrinkled face splits in a fanged grin. "Griznak understand. Trick humans, get gold, grow stronger. Good plan."

  As we begin integrating the new goblins and planning our "victory" over the mine infestation, I can't help but smile. This mercenary monster army thing might just work out after all.

  ---

  We spend the rest of the day orchestrating what looks like a successful mercenary operation for the benefit of Lord Keenan's man. I have the mine's original goblin inhabitants retreat deeper into the connected cave system, taking only what they need, while leaving enough traces of their presence to make our story believable.

  Meanwhile, Morrigan sets up a few flashy magical traps near the entrance—harmless light shows that look impressive when triggered—and we stage some strategic "battle damage" around the main shaft.

  "Appearances important," Nerk says, smearing some of his own blood on a support beam. "Humans expect dead goblins, broken things."

  "Can't exactly haul thirty goblin corpses out of here," I remind him. "But we can make it look like they fled."

  By evening, when Bryce works up the courage to check on us, we emerge from the mine looking appropriately battle-worn. Morrigan's created some superficial wounds on our group, and Nerk carries a sack containing a few goblin ears—actually taken from preserved trophies Griznak's tribe had from their own battles.

  "All clear," I announce to the wide-eyed guide. "Goblin infestation, just like you thought. They've been using a deeper tunnel system to raid the mine. We drove them out."

  "Killed many," Nerk adds gruffly, jingling his sack of "trophies." "Rest ran."

  Bryce looks both relieved and impressed. "Lord Keenan will be pleased. Mine can reopen soon?"

  "Give it a few days for us to make sure they don't come back," I suggest, already planning how we'll stage the goblin tribe's complete withdrawal through the deeper tunnels. "We'll need to check the entire system."

  ---

  That night, as Bryce sleeps by the campfire, we orchestrate the quiet evacuation of Griznak's tribe through the deeper tunnels. They'll rendezvous with our main force in three days, at a designated meeting point in the hills.

  "Army grows," Nerk says with satisfaction as we watch the last of the goblins disappear into the darkness. "Where we go next, master?"

  "We keep moving," I reply, studying the map we've acquired of the surrounding territories. "Take jobs, recruit more followers, avoid staying anywhere too long. I'm feeling that third slot getting closer, we just need to keep expanding our numbers."

  Morrigan nods approvingly, her beady eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Smart tamer. Mobile army harder to track, harder to destroy. Always one step ahead of enemies."

  As we plan our next move, I can't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. Fifty goblins, a hobgoblin warlord, and a hagraven witch—my monster army is taking shape. And soon, with a third slot opening, it'll become even more formidable.

  The key is to keep moving, keep growing, and never let anyone discover just how powerful we're becoming.