Paul’s POV

  The sun just set in the far horizon. Through the far trees, bright orange burned the skyline. Flashes of black cut through twisting blue and purple light, backed by an endless sea of stars. A radiant red star sat directly above in the sky.

  According to Anglian myth the star, Aurvaru, was an ancient god who turned his face on mankind after they showed no gratitude for the gift of fire. Aurvaru used to sit in the magma throne at the center of the planet. The original core. The first source. Paul touched his tether, tracing it to the planet’s core.

  Goblins ran back and forth in front of the new keep carrying clay, rocks, and scavenged items to places he no longer needed to oversee. Undead patrolled and worked alongside the living. Some of the new slaves shrank at the sight of zombies and skeletons walking among them, but the freemen, those who had served Paul longest, walked with confidence.

  Selun, the giant feralean, walked behind Paul. She had taken to following the new alpha. He allowed her to guard him, a task she took to with zeal. Eyes, always alert, the wolf-kin constantly monitored for dangers.

  If she survived, she would be worth keeping.

  Being the last of her tribe made her a little paranoid, so did her youth. These traits could be refined and honed into absolute loyalty with time and discipline.

  Liora’s dark violet form floated out of the keep. Her obsidian hair drifted around her like a dark aura. The air was relatively still, but that didn’t prevent her dress and hair from moving in an unfelt wind of their own. As if wherever her ethereal state was, it was amidst a raging storm.

  “Ready?” Liora asked.

  “Just a few things to take care of before we leave.” Paul responded, scanning the crowd that was gathering.

  Grag came from the crowd running up to Paul almost out of breath. Not quite exhausted but still breathing heavy. Needing air was not something the vampire missed about mortality, in fact, he was unsure if he missed anything. For a moment he considered considering it, but decided such musing was simply a waste of time. He was a vampire now, no point in thinking about what was.

  “Where is Pasxi?” Paul asked the little goblin.

  “She is on her way, Master.” Grag said looking behind him. “She was getting Magus Seris as well.”

  “That’s fine.” Paul responded, “I have things to discuss with you, nevertheless.”

  Grag looked up at Paul with a bit of uncertainty in his eyes.

  “You managed well enough while I was gone.” Paul said, then rubbed his beard after a small pause, “But there are more people here now more responsibility. Are you aware?”

  “Yes Master.” The small goblin stood straighter and looked up at Paul. “We have more humans, ogres, hobgoblins and even more goblins you brought from the battles you had.”

  “Do you know what Rikkard and Durnakh left?”

  “They are looking for tethered goblins in their territory for the firestones?” Grag spoke softly. “Like we are going to here?” He tilted his head questioningly.

  “You are going to search for more here.” Paul responded. “You will look for them like I showed you. I expect more tethered goblins here when I get back.”

  “Yes Master.” Grag said.

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  Grag pulled out a stone from his pocket. “I have been copying the runes I’ve seen on the firestone you made.” Grag said. “I think I can show the others how to make more.”

  “Good.” Paul nodded in the direction of the river. “You will also gather clay, wood, stones, and food.” Paul walked over to the root cellar he had made with magic as an example for the others. “All of the root cellars will be made to look like this one. They will be 30 feet long, 12 feet wide and 8 feet deep.”

  Walking into the cellar without waiting to see if Grag would follow, Paul opened the door at the bottom of the steps. “Each cellar this size can feed about 150 goblins through winter when full.”

  The root cellar had shelves inlaid in the stone and small air ducts leading out for air. Small lines of gravel went from the floors under the walls to drain the excess rain from the cellar without flooding.

  “I made 3 to test. That means we will need 10 more to make it through winter.” Paul turned to face Grag.

  Selun had stayed at the top of the stairs, looking out at the goblins and their bustling activity.

  “This is important Grag, if you fail, many will die and it will be your fault.” Paul said.

  Grag swallowed hard. “I understand, Master.”

  Paul started walking out of the root cellar. “Tether users are a force multiplier Grag, do you know what that means?”

  “No.” Grag frowned.

  “A force multiplier is something that makes one of us worth many. One goblin with a knife is one goblin. Ten goblins with knives are ten goblins.” Paul walked past Selin and scanned the crowd for Pasxi and Seris. “One goblin with fire can stop ten goblins with knives. That fire is not strength by itself. It multiplies the strength that was already there. A wall is a force multiplier.”

  Pointing out towards the wall Paul continued. “One goblin behind a wall can hold against many outside it. A fire-tethered goblin can cook for hundreds, warm dozens, kill armored men, or drive beasts away. Without fire, he is only another mouth.” The necromancer put a hand on a zombie guard. “One corpse does nothing. Raised, it never sleeps, never eats, never runs. It makes every living worker safer and more productive. Salt is a force multiplier. It turns one hunt into many meals across time. I do not need many goblins. I need the right ones. Tethers are force multipliers. They make the tribe stronger without adding more mouths.”

  Seeing Pasxi Paul stopped, “If two goblins make one strong child, that is good. If two tethered goblins make one tethered child, that is better. That is multiplication. Force multipliers are how small tribes kill big ones.”

  “I see.” Grag said. He looked at Pasxi as she came up to them.

  “Do you remember when I asked you about children?” Paul asked Pasxi and Grag.

  Both nodded.

  “From now on, breeding needs to be directed.” Paul looked down at them. “Babies are made from both the male and female. Children are made from mating.”

  Both goblins looked perplexed. “Mating makes babies?” Pasxi asked.

  “Yes,” Paul said. “A male puts his seed inside the female and the baby grows.”

  Pasxi put a hand on her stomach.

  “The baby will be of both parents. If the parents are too closely related the baby will be weak or broken… or die.” Paul said. “We need strong children to make a strong tribe.”

  “How do we know who has made what babies?” Grag asked, watching Pasxi.

  “We will make sure certain goblins only mate with each other.” Paul said. “Do you remember what tethers are for goblins?”

  “A force multiplier?” Grag asked hesitantly.

  “Yes, and a tethered goblin can beat many without.” Paul looked at both goblins. “When a person has a baby, their child may be tethered if they are.”

  “So, my children may have tethers?” Grag asked.

  “And mine?” Pasxi looked up at Paul.

  “Exactly.” Paul said. “From now on Pasxi will only mate with Grag. That way we know who the father is of any children she has. It will be your job Grag to mate as often is necessary to make a child and once Pasxi is pregnant we will find another female for you to make big with child.”

  Grag nodded. “Of course, Master.”

  “Did I do something wrong?” Pasxi asked.

  “No.” Paul responded. “Not yet, and as long as you only mate with Grag you will make strong babies, who make the village strong. We will tie a colored ribbon or cord around the children we want to track until they are older, and we know them by sight.”

  “Yes, Master.” Both said.

  “Magus Seris.” Paul looked at the Magus. “You will work on teaching these two more magic in my absence, but not only them.” Paul waved a hand at Grag. “Grag will begin searching for tethers among the goblins. Many may know they have a tether or understand what it is. Some basic mana gathering exercises should suffice until I return.”

  Seris nodded. “I will do as you command, Master.”

  “Gideon, a small contingent of goblins and some undead with travel with me to Fellward. The outpost is a strategic asset and must be protected. I will depart immediately with them to establish it as needed.” Paul said.

  Paul walked to the village gate with his entourage in tow. He was only going to be gone a few days at most. Gravewell would be fine without him. It had stood while he was on campaign, it would stand now. The necromancer looked back at what was his new… home? No, his new throne. Looking back in the direction of Fellward, and towards what would be a linchpin of food for that kingdom.

  “We march.” Paul commanded.