Husband of the Goblin Tribe

~~** Interlude | Nova **~~

“How’s it going, kiddo? Thirsty?”

A cup filled with the sweet red fruit water and plenty of ice cubes was pressed against my cheek before being handed over to me. As a Swordsaint, I practice with the shoddy iron sword my goblin mother gave to me for a short while every morning. While I know she would have preferred me to use the spear as she does, it’s simply not a weapon that I can bring the full potential out of.

Hakim Al-Khamsin… that was once my name. Now I am called Nova, a name which my father says means a bright new star. I’m not quite sure I’m deserving of such a name, though my last one meant the wise desert wind, a name I had at least grown into properly even if my actions were repugnant at times. I was a womanizer, and a mercenary, but I was also a patriot to my homeland in the desert kingdom known to outsiders only as Sunscorch.

My mother was a whore and my father was a king as the joke went. I was a ruffian and a troublemaker from the time I could first swing my fists. I later picked up a sword and began doing what I needed to in order to secure my future, since I was only a burden to my mother who while she cared for me as best she could, surely was burdened by me as well.

I took a sip of the refreshing drink my new father had given to me and sat down in the grass next to him. My father’s name is Ark Wyze, a rather powerful human sorcerer. He is also the only man to be found in both the tribe and within the entirety of the Bloodmaw domain.

“It’s good.”

“I mixed in some citrus syrup. I figured it would cool you down nicely.”

I was used to dry heat. Instead, the forest is full of humidity, leaving my mostly naked body feeling sweaty and sticky all the time.

“Want to spar with me?”

“I’m no match for you, Nova. Even if I had a magical sword to use.”

My father is a terrible liar as well. He has knowledge of armaments I’ve never seen before, and many that I have which I would even consider to be exotic. I remember him showing my older sister, Magpie, how to do something he called iaido. It involved drawing a sword from its sheath in one motion to deal devastating damage. He’s well versed in fighting theory at least, to the point that I would be willing to learn from him what I do not already know. He even made me a weapon from magically crafted stone surrounding a bone that I had only wished was made of metal. It was a large flat curved blade that, when I held it, felt like an extension of my arm. The weight and balancing were impeccable, to the point that were it made of metal, I would be willing to think myself unparalleled in combat.

“Then if you aren’t going to spar with me… are we just going to talk?”

“If you want. Anything specific you have in mind?”

“There is something I’m curious about. Do you feel no shame in indulging with your own children?”

My father who was usually easy-going and jovial, crinkled his face when I asked him that. To be clear, I’m not judging him. But as someone who was also a civilized man at one point, such a thing is… unbecoming, even to the worst of us.

“I feel plenty of it, Nova. There’s something I heard someone say once, though I can’t remember when or where. When one betrays their morals, they stop being morals and become more of a hobby instead.”

I snorted when I heard him say that.

“At the very least, should any of my daughters want me to never lay a hand on them, I will abide that decision no matter what.”

“In that case, you can leave those to me.”

This time my old man snorted.

“What if they don’t have fat tits and a large ass?”

“Then I’ll just have to fatten them up until they do!”

We both laughed at the stupidity of what we were saying to each other.

“I appreciate you not saying anything about… that time. I thought you had betrayed me when Prima suddenly came to me the other day saying that she knew all about my secret. I didn’t realize she was aware I was using a sword skill.”

“Yeah, your mother has a complex about being the strongest.”

“She sure does. Who do you think is the strongest?”

“Tough call. Lily’s moved up my list, but the top three are Pepper, Pear, and Berry for sure.”

“Uh? What?”

My old man pointed at his crotch.

“I meant in a fight, not rolling around in the hay!”

“Got news for you, kiddo. The only swordplay I’m any good at is with the meat stick.”

My father stood up and stretched his arms out above his head before answering seriously.

“But I suppose I owe it to you once, even if it’ll only disappoint you. Can you give me a little bit of time to make my own weapon? It won’t be traditional in appearance, but it will be a sword.”

“Are you going to make it now?”

“Depends on the quality of bones Ivory has on hand.”

“Can I watch you make it?”

“Sure. There’s nothing secret about its design.”

My father let me accompany him to the cave-hole belonging to Ivory and Truffle. When we got there, my father immediately rushed to see Ivory who had… company at the time. It was the orc with tanned-orange skin, Grotto or something.

“What the…!?”

“Ah! Husband came visiting too soon! Ivory wanted to show this to you later!”

My father stood there, jaw agape, staring at Ivory’s tits, which were now similar to the orc’s. She had two thin bones pierced through her nipples and some pictures on her breasts. One breast, at least. It was of a tree and a mushroom growing next to it.

My father engaged in a conversation with both Ivory and the Orc. Truffle was also there, holding up a mushroom that looked identical to the one on Ivory’s breast, but she had no changes to her breasts at all. Just a swollen pregnant belly. I didn’t understand the orc language, but I did understand Ivory just fine.

It seems that my father was the adventurous sort with these three, having engaged in some cross-species play at the same time. Ivory was fascinated by the tattooing and piercings the orcs had and wanted to do the same to her own chest after having seen it. Ivory also appeared to be able to speak a few words of orcish now, at least enough to ask the orc, whose name was Grotte, not Grotto, to assist her, which she was happy to do.

Turns out that Ivory was going to need a day or two to heal and keep her breasts clean before father could enjoy them. If I had to say where the whorehouse was in Goblinhome, I believe I just witnessed its establishment.

I will give him credit. He managed to collect himself well in the situation and had gone about asking permission from her to look through some of her bones to find a few suitable for making a weapon. Both Ivory and Truffle were surprised to find that he was intending to make himself a Grand Weapon.

Apparently, since father is a magician and a powerful one at that, not a single goblin save for my mother would have thought he would ever have the intention of using an actual weapon. The one weapon he did have, a magical wand that Ivory herself mistook as a black bone, was given to her own daughter, Ebony, which is something that happened before I was born as a goblin.

Given the interest both Ivory and Truffle had, as well as Grotte who also seemed to be interested in the magic my father could use, let him stay in their cave-hole while he assembled not only one, but two weapons that even a Swordsaint such as myself found intriguing.

“These are blades used by the warrior elites of the Covenant Empire. I don’t know their exact name, only that the cruder versions were called burnblades. The more advanced types used a special kind of… hmm… shall we call it star-magic? This one won’t be remotely as strong as one of those types, but it should hold up to at least a few strikes from your metal sword… I think.”

I couldn’t identify the bones he used to make it, but he fashioned a short fat bone for a grip, and a few long bones for the blades, as it had two triangular halves with a gap in the middle. It looked a bit like a sword-catcher. Two holes were fashioned with father placing the Topaz stone he carried within a bone bracelet he almost always wore into one, and a perfectly clear quartz stone into the other. Once the bone framework was done, it was reinforced with dirt he hardened to stone around it.

They reminded me of Diana’s weapon, the one she called Bleed, which in turn seemed like a close cousin of the Qattari used by nefarious assassins in the shadowed alleys of my former homeland, Sunscorch.

Father stood up and carefully moved his arms while holding the exotic weapon he called a burnblade.

“I suppose this will have to do. No promises I’m going to be good at fighting you with them.”

“Husband is going to fight Nova? Can we come and watch?”

Truffle was interested in the fight, and so father invited the three of them to come and watch if they wanted once he clarified that it was a spar, and that he was probably going to lose to me. I can’t speak for the other goblins, but I think everyone here in Goblinhome enjoys watching a good spar.

I’m sure he would have preferred it being something casual between only us, but I’ve been hounding him for a proper fight for a long time now, and I kind of wanted an audience. Maybe it’s my childish nature… being a juvenile goblin and all right now, but I can only listen to Diana go on and on about our old man being impossibly strong without wanting to cross blades with him myself, just to be sure!

So, a few more goblins were gathered for the event.

And by a few goblins, I mean everyone that was inside Goblinhome… on both floors.

There was a wide-open space to spar on the West side of the fire-pit, so the logs that had been placed around it now became the stands. Everybody but Figurine, Glace, Button, Jewel, Ruby, and Jade had come out to watch. Even Old One and my younger sister Wise-eyes had come to watch.

The rules were as basic as it got for a spar. The first to land a clean blow or what would be a fatal strike determined the winner.

The two of us stood about a dozen paces apart with my mother, Prima, acting as the judge. Father already told me before we began that he wouldn’t use any magic that wasn’t constrained to his sword, for fairness’ sake.

I appreciated that. But why does he think I can use magic in my sword?

“Are you ready?” My mother announced in a loud voice, to which the both of us said we were.

“Then… fight!”

When fighting an opponent one isn’t sure the exact strength or skill of, moving slowly and cautiously is usually the best approach. But I knew my father to be a calm and calculative man most of the time, so I decided to rush him and see what came of it. I’ve been in more battles than I can hope to count and felt confident that my experience would guide me to a victory.

But my old man is full of surprises. His eyes weren’t focused on my arms at all. Instead, he was staring at my feet. When I swung my sword, he sprang towards it, intercepting my sword with his left blade, and it felt like I had struck the side of the mountain we lived in.

I felt the recoil from the sword jolt my arms, and in that single moment of minor discomfort, he pivoted his body and the top of his foot hit the back of my knee, sending me to the ground, where I quickly rolled away to avoid any follow-up strike, springing to my feet and reorienting myself.

“What was that?”

“Sorry, I missed. I was aiming for your calf muscle with that kick.”

“This is a swordfight!”

“Yes?”

“Why are you kicking?”

“To limit your movement.” He said stone-faced. “Nova, a swordfight is very much like a game of chess. I need to limit the moves you can make so I can put you in a position where you are forced to make a mistake and I can claim victory. If you are expecting me to only use my weapons, you are sorely mistaken.”

I felt like he had just cheapened our spar, but at the same time, he had approached our spar as if it was something more than just a casual clashing of swords. He was taking me seriously from the start, and I respected that more than he could know.

I took the stance of the form I was most familiar with. The form I had learned and used for over fifteen years.

“I won’t hold back, old man.”

“I’ll do my best to endure.” He replied in his usual ill-confident manner.

I approached him cautiously this time, and he began to circle around me. He kept his left side exposed to me and tucked his right side behind him. His fists were up like he was planning to brawl with punches, but with the long reach of his swords, I found myself needing to search for an opening that he wasn’t trying to lure me in with since there were so many.

I’ve fought a few who wielded weapons in both hands, but usually only one weapon had reach, while the other weapon was much shorter, like a dagger or long a long knife. He had two weapons that both had long reach but also could be used in a shielding manner, making things tricky for me.

“Not going to attack? Then I will.”

The burnblade he held onto with his right hand began to glow and with a slashing motion the very air in front of it distorted and rippled towards me. I focused on it and swung my own sword with a full spin of my body to cut the dangerous wave of air rushing at me. I wasn’t left unharmed as I felt a part of my non-dominant shoulder sting as if it was cut.

Sparing a glance, I noticed it had been. A small scratch, but still a scratch.

Aside from the time he had turned into a full goblin, I’ve never seen my father truly raise his hand to anyone or ever swing it with violence. Especially not towards us, his children.

I see.

This was his test for me.

No words needed to be exchanged anymore.

I gathered myself and immediately dashed towards him, Confronting him with all of my experience as a Swordsaint. My sword rang loud with heavy and dull hits as my own collided with his. I danced around him, seeking to strike him at each and every opening he presented me with. The weapon in his left hand moved close to his body to try and receive or deflect each of my attacks, but quite a few got through. They weren’t clean cuts, but he was now bleeding from a small cut on the side of his defensive arm, and two glancing cuts to his unprotected body on the same side.

Drawing blood on him caused a scent to fill the air and I felt… disturbed.

I had an urge to pounce on him and claw at him with my own hands rather than to keep using the sword I wielded, but I had the mental fortitude to shake it off. I felt like the fight should have been over, and that he shouldn’t have been able to defend my attacks as well as he had.

But the fight wasn’t over. I continued my assault, circling around him and pressing my attacks at any openings that looked worthwhile. He was entirely on the defensive, continuing to use his left weapon as a shield of sorts. But my metal sword was chipping away at his weapon made only a short while ago with nothing other than a few bones and dirt made magically stone.

Then, he smiled and swung his right weapon upwards, shouting something stupid.

“FACE THE WIND!!”

It felt like a wall of impassable air was right between us. Trying to approach it only pushed me back. My toes dug into the dirt just to keep my body steady.

“AKU!・SOKU!・ZAN!”

Father took that moment to propel himself through that wall of wind. His speed was amplified, and his right weapon was aimed straight at my head. I put all my strength into swinging my sword up to parry it, only to find that his left weapon was also moving to strike what would be my exposed flank.

Shit!

I immediately let go of my sword and tucked into a roll trying to dodge everything. When I came up from my roll right behind him, I crouched down low and threw my body at his legs from behind, knocking him to the ground. Then I sprung to my feet, leapt into the air to grab my sword which was descending, and poked his exposed butt as soon as my feet hit the ground.

“Nova has won!” Prima declared.

I dropped my sword and leaned over, placing my hands on my knees and breathing heavily.

That last attack… I couldn’t tell if the old man was fucking around the entire fight or not.

He groaned a little bit and pushed himself up off the ground onto his hands and knees. The right weapon he held onto had shattered into about six pieces, but the left one was still fine.

He then rotated his body so that he was sitting down, the entire front of his body was covered in dirt and grass, including his face.

“Was that good enough for you, kiddo?”

I let my body go and fell right onto my butt.

“Yeah. I had fun.”

“Good.” He said with another smile and fell back onto the ground, spreading out his arms.

We both began to laugh together for a bit before my sisters came over and began to harass him about a few things. Diana wanted to know all about the weapon he was using that she picked up and began swinging around. Magpie was curious as to how father created the wall of wind. But all of them were affected by the scent of his blood, and he was about to become a late breakfast for the entire tribe.

But my mother wasn’t having any of it. She just sat on him and glared at every single goblin and orc present, making them cower away. Lumi was the only one allowed to approach, using her Saintly magic to quickly heal the cuts on his body which we all felt the effects of. I can’t say I enjoyed the feeling of arousal it brought about towards him.

While father was recovering, sitting on a log and talking about some members of a so-called Legendary League to Magpie and the others who remained, with Ivory taking up the space in his lap that everyone else wanted. Diana had gone into the forest and came back quickly with a pair of freshly killed foxes, skewered on father’s weapon.

The orcs quickly prepared one for cooking over the fire while the other was immediately torn into by the goblins who preferred fresh bloody meat.

Yes, it was just another quiet and peaceful day here in this little goblin kingdom hidden in the forest… sitting in the lap of a large orc called Krushka as her two massively tattooed and pierced breasts pressed down on my head while I ate some delicious meat she offered to feed me.

Whether male or female, the orcs appreciate strength. And as the War Chief’s mighty daughter who won our battle, to the victor goes the spoils, old man!