1 Easy Prey

This is the first item in my “A boy, a dire wolf, and a goblin” story
Next chapter "2 Slavers and worse"   by etelan

Oribio, Bapor's fattest boy was on his way to become the saddest of kids. There he was, passing through Bapor's eastern gate, dressed in linen and wool: a feathered hat on his head, soft boots for his feet and the usual arrangement of tunic and trousers. His cape has been left at home, allowing for a sack full of food for the Smellyhuts' orphans.

Oribio was one of those kids who loved to help people in need just for the feeling of it. His mother, Doña Armendora de Tierraroja was sure her child would end up as a bishop and a saint, but kept those thoughts to God and Saint Valeria alone. The local priests, however, wouldn't have a cheeky Sureño, ordained in his diocese, but he didn't mind him as an altar boy. His father, Don Medario just assumed he'd pick up his legal office, as he was good both with letters and numbers, and already did errands for him to court.

Smellyhuts spread itself over seven miles along the Sib river, hosting three dozen families of tenant farmers who would sell its surplus on Bapor. The orphans had been able, with will and sweat, to pay for the previous yearly rent. Ybeth, the eldest among them, hadn't ever yielded to the suggestion of selling her youngest to the slavers. Thus, she hadn't minded the do-gooder boy's regular visits. Her siblings didn't share her low opinion on Oribio and showed it by running to meet him, cheering and all, every time the teen came for a visit.

That's why Oribio almost turned back home when he could only see their hens roaming around much startled. Where were the kids?, he wondered. Where was the dog for that matter? Oribio knew that Yip wouldn't have ever left the hens unsupervised. Then it occurred to him, her brother, that lazy brat, had to be in the hut sleeping. Determined to give him a good sermon, he walked straight into the open door.

Worries only were waiting for him there. The bench was laid on its side, the fire was burning, blankets laying on the floor, the chest left open and empty, food gone. Was this the outcome of a robbery? But who'd rob from a bunch of muddy orphans? He rushed out, anxious to tell the constable.

“Stop! Boy!”

Oribio hadn't yet given four steps when he saw the knight. Armored in mail and bascinet, his right hand held a long sword. Relieved to find such a good assistance, the boy gladly stopped.

“Sir, I'm afraid there has been a robbery in this house.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yes sir, and most vile, for they have robbed from orphans! The miscreants!“

“How do you dare to treat me, and, my men with such impertinence?“

Oribio paled in disbelief as he saw bandits, an army of them, emerging from the woods together with many captives, appearing beyond the tree line.

The knight grinned. “It took you some time... Never mind, kid, I don't need a scout, and if you're good at letters and numbers, some dwarf merchant will be happy to acquire you. Now, get on your knees, we're doing a little kidnapping around here.”

Oribio's reaction wasn't that what you'd expect from a fatty go-doer who was good at letters and numbers and little else. Yelling in Sureño, he charged the knight, set on grabbing his opponent's feet.

The warrior casually kicked Oribio as he went, though, and pinned the boy's face onto the wet ground.

A goblin hidalgo

As Oribio met his fate, Don Alfonso was leading a warrior party towards a region precisely midway from Bapor to Sauvassonne. There, he hope, was the best place to acquire loot and glory, another step to build a great name for him and his goblin clan.

Don Alfonso isn't a goblin name, but that specimen of goblin-hood had picked it up for himself. Back then his father had made quite a few Sureñan captives, and from them he learned their traditions, language, some reading and lots of their stories. Above all, he dreamt to become another Alzid, an almost mythical Sureñan warrior, noble, loyal to death, righteous and fair, with friend or foe alike.

He had prepared well. Fat, yes he might have a little bit of that, but he was equipped with strong muscles and wide shoulders. Tall? Well, as goblins go, so not too much, but he rode a dire wolf and had his spear, so that wouldn't be much of a disadvantage in battle. Besides, his horned helmet would make him impressive before enemies and followers alike.

His clan might be small, but cheerfully independent, occupying a strip of some desolate corner between the human kingdom of Sausland and the Republic of Sauvassonne. He had sixty goblins on his host, and twice as much at home, counting kids, half-goblins and sixteen humans who worked the clan's land. For them all Don Alfonso will bring a new feat of victory.

It must be mentioned that goblins value their worth by the animals and slaves they own. Don Alfonso wasn't different on that account, but his own approach was considering them to be sort of a lower class of family members. That had allowed him to keep his slaves loyal, or, at least obedient, well into their adulthood, when most goblin lords would have rather sell them off or trade them for new kids.

Lobo

Lobo was Don Alonso's pride and love. He had a few goblin and half-blood babies to inherit his name, but truly none of them made him half as happy. Victory ran in the beast's veins, for his ancestors, wild and free, had ruled the wilderness of Currupaw, hunting bison and facing the saber-toothed dinogorgons.

Lobo had learned the stories from her mother for these creatures can speak without words, and would love to live them out. But, above all, he was loyal to his master, and he and his siblings had served Don Alonso well, earning as many scars as glory and thrill for battle.}

Next: "2 Slavers and worse" 

Special thanks to intuey of House Lannister for her review and help :)