CHAPTER 175: CHAPTER 174: THE SUB-CAPTAIN

The journey took a week. When they reached the top of the last hill, the second base loomed ahead, not as a sanctuary, but as a crucible.

It wasn’t just a camp, it was a forge where monsters became soldiers and soldiers became weapons. Every day here bled sweat, pain, and steel. And monster spoils flowed in like blood through the veins of the village’s coffers.

High stone walls surrounded it, with wooden watchtowers on top. Sentries stood watch, their spears catching the sunlight as they moved.

From beyond the gates came the sounds of training, the clash of weapons, the shouts of drill leaders, and the heavy stomp of boots marching in rhythm. The air smelled of oil, leather, and the faint smoke of a forge.

A horn blast echoed.

"Gate!" someone shouted. The large wooden gates creaked open.

Lumberling and Jen rode inside, passing under the gate. Soldiers were drilling in formation, responding sharply to orders. Barracks stood in neat rows, and weapons were stored in perfect order. Every soldier glanced at the newcomers but kept their discipline.

A large kobold stepped forward, Trask, the berserker. He was bigger than most kobolds, with thick shoulders, scars, and the air of someone who had fought in many battles.

"My Lord," Trask said with a rare smile, bowing. "Welcome."

"It’s been a while, Trask," Lumberling replied.

"A long while. The men have been waiting to see you."

All around them, soldiers straightened as if a current of lightning had passed through the yard. Surprise flickered in their eyes, quickly buried beneath the iron mask of discipline. Then, as one, they bowed, boots stamping the earth in a single heavy beat. The sound rolled across the courtyard like a war drum.

Lumberling gave them a nod, the he moved forward, his gaze sweeping over the fortress. He inspected the barracks, beds aligned with military precision. The armory, blades, bows, and shields polished and ready.

The training yard, scarred dirt bearing the imprint of countless drills. The storage rooms, organized to the last grain sack. Even the mess hall bore the marks of efficiency; tables scrubbed clean, cooks moving with sharp, economical motions.

Every corner spoke the same truth, this was no outpost to be taken lightly. It was a place where soldiers were not only trained but tempered.

A place ready for war.

.....

The morning proved it.

The base awoke to shouts and the clash of steel as a shadow burst from the treeline. The alarm bells rang sharp and urgent.

Lumberling stood on the edge of the cleared ground, scanning the treeline.

Same forest, same stench of damp earth and blood. Still crawling with monsters.

A distant roar rolled through the undergrowth.

Another one. Like clockwork, every hour something came looking for a fight.

Trask barked orders from the center of the base.

"Second watch, on the east wall! Keep your bows ready!"

Goblins and Kobolds moved with discipline. Shields up. Bows half-drawn. No shouting, just sharp, practiced movements.

Lumberling stayed back.

Jen kept a tight hold on Lunira, keeping her away from the noise.

A horn blew once from the southern side.

"Contact, south gate!" a soldier called.

"Boar cavalry, hold position until I signal," Trask ordered, his tone flat, not rushed.

The soldiers on the wall didn’t even glance over, they stayed locked on their own sectors.

From the treeline, two grey-skinned beasts loped into view, snarling.

The hunters on the ground moved forward in formation, pikes angled.

With arms crossed, Lumberling observed in silence. They moved like a single, practiced blade, and he found himself quietly impressed by their discipline.

An arrow thudded into one monster’s skull. It dropped dead.

The other went down under a wall of spears. No cheering. No talk. Just a clean kill and back to stations.

"Ragza!" Trask called.

A tall Hobgoblin Warrior stepped forward from the archer line, his iron gear worn but well-kept.

"Here."

"Keep your archers focused on the north sector. That ridge is a blind spot."

"Understood." Ragza turned and gave a hand signal, no words. The archers shifted positions immediately.

"Shen!" Trask barked next.

A broad-shouldered Kobold Berserker with heavy scars approached, gripping an axe.

"My hunters are ready," Shen said.

"Keep them moving. Don’t let anything circle behind us."

Shen grunted, then whistled sharply. The hunters fanned out into the treeline, silent as shadows.

"Tor," Trask called last.

Another Kobold Berserker stepped up, this one in steel armor, a curved blade at his hip.

"Boar riders will hold until you give the word," Tor said.

"Good. We’ll keep them in reserve for larger threats."

Lumberling noted the chain of command, temporary leaders holding the place together in the captains and vice-captains’ absence.

Trask ran a tight operation, no wasted motion, no unnecessary noise.

Another roar echoed in the distance.

The soldiers didn’t flinch. They just kept working.

A smile ghosted on Lumberling’s lips. Trask had shaped them well, better than he’d dared to hope. They were a blade being honed, and he trusted the man holding the whetstone.

.....

Lumberling and Jen had stayed at the second base for nearly a week.

In that time, he kept track of how things ran in his absence. With the original seven captains and their vice-captains still back in the goblin village training in magic, command here rested almost entirely on Trask’s shoulders.

The kobold berserker kept the place running with strict order, drills on schedule, patrols rotating without gaps, and monster attacks handled quickly.

He kept his eyes open, watching drills, checking reports, and quietly noting which soldiers followed orders well and which leaders handled pressure without breaking.

By the fourth day, he had a list in his mind.

It was time to put his plans into motion.

.....

The sun was still climbing when he crossed the training yard, the sound of clashing weapons fading behind him. A few soldiers paused to salute before returning to their drills.

Trask’s office was functional, maps of the surrounding forest lined one wall, patrol charts pinned in neat rows, and stacks of reports sorted with military precision.

When Lumberling stepped inside, Trask immediately straightened from where he stood by the desk, giving a crisp nod.

"My Lord."

Lumberling closed the door behind him and crossed the room. "At ease, sit down Trask."

The kobold obeyed, lowering himself into the chair but keeping his back straight, his hands resting on his knees as he waited.

Lumberling rested a hand on the table between them. "Trask, you’ve gone above and beyond your duties here. I’ve watched you work, seen how this base runs under your lead, and you’ve done an exceptional job," he said, his voice steady but edged with genuine respect.

Trask’s eyes sharpened at the words. "Thank you, my Lord."

"The way you handle the soldiers, the training schedules, the patrol rotations, giving orders and making sure they’re followed through, you’re damn good at it. Where’d you pick that up?"

"I watched you, my Lord. And the captains," Trask replied without hesitation. He didn’t say it aloud, but inside, he was overjoyed that his Lord had noticed his efforts.

Then, Lumberling met his gaze. "I want to give you a position. Would you take the role of Sub-Captain?"