The wind blade hadn't been affected by the slow, and Ronan had to rely on all his reflexes to block it with his shield. The bones covering it, already chipped and cracked from Vincent's sword, splintered and flew off, leaving deep grooves in the shield's wooden base.

Ronan decided to charge his opponent, taking advantage of the fact that he was now physically slower. Even so, Vincent managed to block him. However, since he was moving so sluggishly, Ronan had no trouble positioning himself behind him and delivering a kick with his heel to the back of Vincent's right knee while grabbing his head and pulling it backward.

He'd fought against his own skeletons and zombies plenty of times. He knew a few tricks. And precisely because he didn't want Vincent to hurt himself too badly, he placed his hand on the area between the nape and the crown of his head, so it was his hand that hit the ground.

The prince found himself on the ground, one hand on his forehead and the other behind his head. It was clear his opponent could slit his throat or do whatever he wanted with him. He'd lost.

"You win, good fight," he told Ronan.

Ronan pulled his hands back and offered one to help him up.

"You hurt yourself," Vincent pointed at his hand once he was on his feet. "Want a health potion?"

"No need to waste it. I can go find a deer and drain it a bit."

"You have the spell that drains life?" He was surprised.

"Yes, life and mana."

"That's one of the good ones. Not many families that use dark magic can boast having it. Did your parents teach it to you?"

"No, I learned it as a child. Do you want to keep fighting against any of my creatures? I can raise an abomination if you want," he said while massaging his arms a bit.

Unlike the prince, the young necromancer was sweating profusely. He also felt sore in most of his body's muscles, especially his arms. The one holding the shield hurt the most. That made sense, since he wasn't used to using one.

"Yeah, I'd like that, thanks."

"Thanks for the training match. I think it's possible I leveled up my sword mastery." Since he felt he'd improved his understanding of the weapon, plus he felt a bit stronger. Probably, when he got back to the academy and touched the status slab, he'd confirm that his mastery had increased. "Also, I realized I need to learn some quick attack spells."

Ronan went to hunt a deer and left Vincent fighting against an abomination. After a while, he came back and joined the fight without using magic. They defeated it together. Considering Ronan's high intelligence, his undead were tough and dangerous. Once they finished, they cleaned up a bit in the nearby river, and Ronan asked his friend to accompany him on some errands.

"Sure, where to?"

"To the village."

Vincent nodded.

They mounted the deer and, after a few minutes, the prince shouted so his companion could hear him:

"Shouldn't we have arrived by now? This part of the forest doesn't look familiar either. It's denser."

In fact, that greater density of trees and undergrowth had made the deer—those tireless bone creatures—slow down somewhat. Even so, they were moving very fast and with many jumps, something that, with his low constitution, had made Ronan a bit dizzy before training. Not anymore. Had he learned shield mastery? It was the only thing he could think of that would have raised that stat.

"No, not yet," he answered.

Shortly after, the mounts stopped—not abruptly, since Ronan had instructed them weeks ago that sending their rider flying wasn't the goal. Ronan dismounted.

Vincent didn't. He just stared at some trolls like the ones from the dungeon, who were logging trees.

"They're yours, right?"

"Of course. You cannot take them out of the dungeon alive or dead, the guards won't allow it. They are animated from a tooth."

Vincent began to dismount and stopped short, bringing his hand to his sword hilt. A goblin had just arrived, running.

Ronan didn't notice at first. Not until he saw the fear in poor Gump's eyes, who, though he'd grown and was now an adult like his brother, was still a bit skittish.

The deer saved the situation. No matter how much Vincent pressed with his calves to make it advance, it wouldn't move. Before the prince could dismount to finish off what Ronan now understood he saw as an enemy, Ronan hurried to clarify:

"Wait, that is Gump. He is a friend."

"I can see his eyes. They're not glassy. That goblin is alive."

Vincent had just gotten off the deer, sword in hand but not attacking; he was purely wary and defensive.

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"Yes, he is a friend. Right, Gump?"

"Your human friend wants to hurt me?"

He looked back and forth between both Ronan and Vincent with those huge eyes that, in the past, had won over the heart of a Bianca who'd been ready to kill him for the XP.

"Uh," the prince hesitated, "why do I understand a goblin?"

"That's because you haven't bothered to talk to them if you've attacked them before in a dungeon."

"I have been to some dungeons with goblins, and the sounds they made were guttural and unintelligible."

"Then maybe previous generations of these goblins have bothered to learn our language."

That seemed plausible to Ronan. You only had to consider how quickly goblin babies were conceived and how quickly they grew into adults, as well as how weak they were and how easily they must have died before entering his lady's service.

The totem claimed they used to live in a larger village in the neighboring human kingdom, and that neither he nor his parents and grandparents, nor the previous totem, remembered living anywhere else. They had stories the previous totem told about the valiant ancestors who abandoned the dungeon where they lived, led by the demon king.

Despite enjoying talking to the goblins, Ronan hadn't managed to figure out which demon king they were referring to—the last one or some previous one. In any case, all non-human and non-animal creatures in the world came from dungeons. Either from breakouts or when some demon king had freed them. The ancient race, believed to be human, who knows. Humans and animals were supposedly always roaming the earth's surface.

All these things about past times the goblins told him didn't interest his lady. Ronan didn't quite understand why. He loved finding out how the world worked, what it was like to have grown up and lived outside four dark walls.

Vincent stood stunned looking at Ronan, his facial expression deadpan, as if he couldn't wrap his head around what his friend was telling him. Or maybe it wasn't that, but rather the fact that this goblin didn't seem hostile and was speaking the common human language.

"Come on, come meet the rest."

"There are more?"

"Of course."

They walked through the forest until they reached the rocky mountainside.

"We're close to the border with Daertyle."

"That's right," Ronan answered, pleased that his friend had bothered to find out where the village they were going to was located.

Either that, or he had a lot of information about his parents' kingdom in his head.

In either case, it was what a good leader like him should do.

That little detail about the kingdom that was going to be his brother's was something he'd have to discuss with his lady and Vincent at some point. But later. There was no rush. They had time until he expanded the goblin village and turned it into a prosperous city where many more races could coexist.

Besides, it wasn't like he intended to kill and resurrect Sigfrig, or just kill him. No, he knew Vincent loved his brother. The ideal would be to get proof of some kind of conspiracy or treason against the crown while he was still the heir. In fact, he already had a little bird watching him.

About the little bird… he'd been experimenting with insects. In experiment number 56, he concluded that insects—he'd tried various sizes, in increasing progression up to the mantis and cicada—didn't have a brain developed enough to send him images or communicate with him mentally. A shame, since a flea would be a better candidate for espionage. Maybe if he found larger insects, they would have one.

"Are we going to the mountain pass?" Vincent asked.

"No, it is right here. Come on."

He guided him to the cave entrance, cutting through areas of the forest full of undergrowth. However, once they were close, there was nothing hiding it—rather, a clear space of several meters between the trees and the steep mountain. There, a large opening sank into the rock wall. There were a few goblins coming out, who greeted Ronan. He took that opportunity to introduce them to Vincent.

Ronan looked at the prince with some concern, as he was pale. Maybe he felt a bit sick or was hungry?

He offered to go inside, since they could surely cook him some meat or a broth.

"No, thanks, Ronan, I'm fine."

And just then, before they entered, something blocked the sun above their heads. Ronan noticed the wind before the shadow. He didn't need to look. He knew who was approaching.

Myrthaxya landed on the ground near her master, folding her bone wings against the vertebrae of her back.

Vincent, though he'd already seen her in the dungeon, stood there for a few moments, jaw dropped.

"Are you sure you are all right?" Ronan asked him.

His friend didn't usually act like this.

"Yes, yes," he finally said after regaining his composure. "That's the bone dragon that killed the yeti," he stated.

"Yeah, of course. I already told you her name is Myrthaxya."

"But you took her out of the dungeon."

"She was not a dungeon creature. So I did not take any matter from the dungeon."

"But did the guards let you?"

"Why would they have to let me? She is not a dungeon creature. She was the noble mount of the last demon king."

Vincent leaned a hand against the mountainside, letting his weight drop.

"Look, Ronan, you should have reported something like that."

"Why? She is my friend. Do I have to report every new friend I meet and raise? Come on, let's go in. I will show you the forge."

Vincent followed him. He was quiet. He stopped again when he realized what was inside. Describing his expression as deadpan would be an understatement.

"Ronan, this is a goblin settlement."

"Yes, it's my lady's village. But it is much better than a simple goblin settlement. We are developing it, and they have a smokehouse, a forge, and a cold storage. Oh, wait," he finally realized. "She didn't tell you?"

Vincent brought a hand to his forehead, stood there for a few moments looking like he didn't know how to react, and then sighed. He let all the air out of his lungs and sat down on one of the furs on the ground. A female goblin carrying a couple of babies on her back with some cloths offered him a wooden carved cup with some steaming liquid inside.

Vincent drank.

My lady, Ronan communicated mentally, you must forgive me. I think I just accidentally revealed the goblin village to your betrothed.

My lady? he asked again when he heard no response. Can you hear me?

Yes, Ronan, I hear you. I'd answered you out loud, from the shock of what you just told me. What do you mean by accident and what do you mean you revealed to the king's son that we're taking care of a village of monsters? Do you want us to get imprisoned and them killed?

One moment, my lady.

"Vincent, you wouldn't kill my friends, would you?" he asked as the goblins straightened up when they heard him, no longer as casually relaxed as they'd been moments before.

Even the shadows cast by the bonfires illuminating the cave gave their sharp-toothed smiles a less friendly touch.

The two yetis inside were also staring at Vincent suspiciously.

If he noticed the change in atmosphere, he didn't show it.

"Ronan, I trust you and Bianca. That's why I know that, even if it doesn't look like it, there has to be some coherent explanation for this." He took another sip of his drink. "I think we need to talk, but better when my fiancée is present."

No problem, my lady. Vincent is good people. He won't do anything to our friends. He just wants to talk.

And he hadn't even seen the colossal bear yet, the giant scorpions, or the dozens of ants, or the wall he'd made with the ice golems.

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