Chapter 2 Part 1: Incoming Threat of Domination

A thick layer of grey ash glued Alton’s eyes shut, but he could hear his captor rummaging around her forge. Hearing rythmic thumping and the churning of molten steel, Alton concluded that Gibla must be smithing something. He heard her get up from the anvil, move to his spot on the floor, and crouch down to meet eye to eye with her slave.

“Morning.” Gibla said as she rubbed the ash out of Alton’s eyes with her rough leather gloves, scratching his face. Then she gave him a hard smack across his cheek to fully wake him up.

He jolted awake. “Good morning, madam!”

Gibla held out her hand. In it was Alton’s lenses, placed inside an ashy grey steel frame, with molten bubbles left unpolished. “For you.”

“My word… t-thank you. You’re too kind.” Alton said, feeling almost touched by Gibla’s kind gesture. “I’m half-blind without these. How’d you know they belonged to me?”

“Your eyes… eyes.. closed… sq-... squi-..” Gibla struggled to find the right word.

“Is it because I was squinting my eyes?” Alton suggested.

“Yeah! You were squintining!” Gibla blurted, before she burst into laughter. She always had a heavy bray that brought light to the room. It’s a shame that it was so rare.

There was a sudden knock on the door after Gibla laughed. She began to scramble like a badger looking for a place to hide her slave. “Hide!” she yelled, as Alton slipped under her bed right when the door opened. In the doorway was a lime green goblin with long burgundy dreadlocks, holding a dull greataxe stained with dry blood.

“Strag!” Gibla said. “Is this an urgent thing?”

“Lass, I wouldn’t leave the home without cleaning me axe if it weren’t. We may be under siege very soon, and I need a good blade!” Strag said with an anxious tone of voice.

“Okay, hand it over, I’ll be done in a minute, just close the door.” Gibla quickly grabbed the axe and slammed the door shut. She pulled Alton out from under the bed, before he could make out the strange iron cylinder that caught his eye under there.

“...What?” Gibla asked somewhat rhetorically.

“I, uh, have many questions,” he said.

“I may have answers,” she shot back. Gibla placed the axe upright near her forge. “What do you want?”

“I saw… something strange under your bed. It was like a cylinder or something akin to that. What was it?”

“You’ll see.”

Alton gulped. “Okay. Just as long as it doesn’t hurt too much.”

“You’ll be fine,” Gibla said, flicking her long, purple tongue at him playfully. “Any other questions?”

“Your other goblin friend there, Stag?”

“Strag, dummy. What about ‘em?”

“I think he mentioned something about a...” Alton gulped again. “A siege?”

Gibla shrugged her tiny shoulders, as orange sparks flew off the anvil with every swing of her hammer. “Eh. Those things happen. Lots of people die. Lots of people live. But I get through.”

“But what if the worst happens?” he asked. “Would you leave me to die here?”

Gibla took a minute to consider why she would want to take this worthless hunk of flesh with her if she had to evacuate. Then a single thought entered her mind, one she had trouble expelling after it made its way in. What other humans would be around to entertain her so much as Alton did? This pathetic excuse for a man could be her plaything for years! He was such a malleable pet, whimpering at her every move. Gibla came to the realization that maybe, just maybe, this Alton should be around her as long as possible. Or until a better pet came around.

“I guess not.” Gibla finally said after seconds of silence.

Alton smiled at his captor. “Y-you really mean t-”

“I have to go,” Gibla said abruptly as she ran out of the forge with the sharpened axe. “Don’t go looking around.” Alton nodded submissively.


[THIS STORY WAS WRITTEN IN COLLABORATION WITH VLUIRTY, AKA CHUCKLER. MANY THANKS TO HIM.]