Chapter 1 Part 1: Rejected Goblin Bloodpie Ingredient

The headless bodies dangled from the ceiling of the cellar, with barrels scattered around the floor to catch the precious blood that drips from their spines. The sight could paralyze a man in fear, so it's no surprise that no man was meant to enter the place.

Frigz, the butcher, dipped his clawed finger into a barrel to taste the sweet drippage. "This'll make a lovely bloodpie!" he said to no one in particular.

Vorga called down to him, her voice echoing off the slimy stone walls. "We've got a fresh batch o' meat! Just came in!"

Frigz opened the cellar door, to be greeted by the blinding daylight. He was then greeted by a pale-skinned man with ornate bronze armor and a look of discomfort on his face. Behind him was a horse-drawn carriage, filled with dozens of horrified criminals bound with rope, squirming in fear of what will become of them.

"Hello... sir." the man muttered. "As an official of the kingdom of Prucia, it is our honor to donate our monthly supply of meat to the... lovely townspeople of Maldrigg."

Frigz, understanding nothing the man said, gave an approving nod.

The man continued. "And here are the confiscated items of the men arrested." He held out a large, heavy sack filled with rings, necklaces and spectacles.

Frigz took the sack and felt the immense weight of the metal. "Gibla will love this," he thought.

The man emptied the carriage onto the grass, sending the criminals tumbling out like marbles. "Good day sir," he said as he sprinted out of the town.

"Gibla! We just got some new metal!" Vorga shouted into the forge. There was no response, so Vorga threw the sack onto the ground, cracking the cobblestone underneath it. "She better be back soon."

At the pond, a pale, olive green goblin dipped her head in the water to clean the ash that accumulated on her eyes. Her bun sticking out of the water looked like a tiny black duckling bobbing up and down.

Vorga quickly ran to the pond, noticing the strong smell of charcoal and burnt meats that Gibla always left behind. She grabbed Gibla’s bun and yanked her head out of the water.

“Where have you been all day, you little shite?” Vorga shouted.

“Getting the crust off me eyes. It really is an issue, mum.”

“We’ve got a new load of metal for ya to melt.” Vorga said as she dragged Gibla back to the forge by her hair, leaving a trail of pond water behind them.

Back in the forge, the massive sack of metal lay by the door, illuminated by the still burning forge that Gibla left unattended. She tripped on the sack as she walked in, falling on top on it like a cold, painful pillow. It made a loud crack as her body tumbled onto it.

She stumbled over to her anvil, groaning in pain, while dragging the sack behind her. “Now let’s see the goodies,” said Gibla as she poured out the contents.

Out of the usual iron trinkets that she tended to find, Gibla found a rather thick set of spectacles. She tore the unmeltable glass lenses out of them, and placed the lenses next to her bed. She was always fascinated by the odd things that could be in the sacks. She tossed the remaining metal into the hearth, sending blackened smoke flying through the room.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door, accompanied with a muffled cry on the other side. It was Frigz, holding a frail, starved man with wavy brown hair, tied up with rope.

“Afternoon!” said Frigz said as Gibla slowly opened the heavy stone door.

“Afternoon. You need something?” Gibla replied, as the bound man stared at her with a look of desperation.

Frigz gestured to the man. “He doesn’t have much meat on his bones, so could ya… take care of ‘em for me?”

Gibla tilted her head. “You mean I should burn him?”

Frigz rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. None of the blokes want to eat him, so we’d better throw ‘em away.”

That’s when a devious smile broke out on Gibla's face. She had a brilliant idea. “Alright, hand him over.”

Gibla took the rope and brought the man into the forge. His body was shivering in fear. She grabbed his head, extended her purple tongue and licked the man’s cheek. “Damn, this one would’ve tasted great,” she thought.

She laid the man on the floor, giggling as he wriggled like an eel. She turned him on his back, then straddled him, legs locked around his waist, to undo his bindings. His terrified gasps were drowned out by her nonchalant whistling.

Grasping the man’s shoulders, Gibla got up and flipped him over. The man took a deep breath now that she wasn’t sitting on top of his back. The two met eye to eye.

“Please, m-madam,” wheezed the man, sweating up a storm. “Spare me, please!”

Gibla could hear Gaisan, the language of most men, but she could barely speak it. “Why?” she said as she bared her razor-sharp teeth.

The man gulped while he shivered in Gibla’s embrace. “What are you to do with me?”

Gibla pointed her clawed finger to the furnace. “Fire.” The red coals burned bright, revealing incinerated bodies deep inside.

The screams of the man were interrupted by Gibla’s hand cupping his mouth. “No more scream!” she said. “I take hand off. No scream.” Her hand slowly pulled away from his mouth, and the man took another deep breath.

“Thank you, dear mercy. I am Alton.” said the man quietly. “I come from Plettenfield. What’s y-your name, madam?”

“Gibla.”

Alton broke the eye contact and looked over at Gibla’s bed. “Are those…” he muttered as he saw his broken glasses’ lenses. “Listen, Gibla, I will do anything for you, please s-spare me from the burning.”

Gibla took a second to daydream. She began to realize what a lucrative opportunity she had staring her in the eyes. She grinned. “Anything, hm?”

“Yes! I’ll be your personal slave! Please, I don’t want to die! I need to get out of here, and I’ll take the best care of you if you come with me. Just… please don’t kill me!”

Hundreds of thoughts flooded Gibla’s mind after Alton uttered the word “slave”. The two of them stared in each other’s eyes for several seconds, lost in thought. Gibla broke the silence with a single word. “Deal?”