Chapter 5 – Build and Grow

Henderson stared at the creature he’d named ‘Grim’ for a long time. In fact, he stared at him for so long that he wondered if the creature would ever become uncomfortable under his gaze.

Apparently, after an hour of silence between the pair, the answer was a resounding ‘no’.

Henderson had been staring at Grim because he wanted to see what the hobgoblin would do if he didn’t give him any instructions at all. He wondered if the creatures under his command - all twenty-two of them - actually had some in-built programming to go about their daily business, or if they’d just stand around like lemons without a single sense of purpose.

Judging by Grim, it seemed he was going to have to micromanage every detail of this place all by himself.

“So, are you going to just stand there all day?” Henderson finally asked. “Because if I wanted a statue, I’d have one made.”

“I do apologise, my Lord,” Grim replied. “Would you like me to stand on one leg now? Or did you have something else in mind?”

Henderson’s eyes narrowed.

“Perhaps I could lie down on the ground, my Lord?”

“Are you taking the piss?” Henderson asked.

“My Lord, I am here to advise you, to guide you in your new role. If you do not have any questions to ask, then I shall await such a time as when you do.”

It sounded like a cheap cop-out to Henderson, but against his better nature he decided to let it slide this time. Internally, he made a mental note to make sure this creature didn’t become overly familiar with him.

“The army,” Henderson finally said, deciding to ask some questions to break the boredom. “It was a big one, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, my Lord,” Grim responded, turning to face Henderson. “It was the biggest I have ever seen, a true testament to what can happen if the creatures of Chaos work together toward a singular goal under a united banner.”

“But they still lost.”

“Yes, my Lord. The reality of the situation is that the creatures of Chaos lost the battle. I am afraid that superior numbers and a singular focus are not all that is required to win a war of such a large scale.”

“Oh?” Henderson asked. “Because I was taught that superior numbers and the right motivation were nearly always enough to win a war.”

“In many cases, that is the truth, my Lord,” Grim replied. “But what we had in numbers in this battle, we did not have in co-ordination and tactics. We marched blindly towards our enemy, thinking we would win comfortably, but we were shown nevertheless to be lacking.”

Henderson scratched his chin. “Yes, it was a bit of a shambles, wasn’t it.”

“Quite.”

“So if we were to do the same thing again, but with a little tactical genius…”

“I believe that this is why you have been brought here, my Lord,” Grim said without the slightest hint of sarcasm.

Henderson smiled. “Well, that’s something we can agree on, Grim. So let’s start from the beginning, shall we? How do we go about making an army? And I don’t mean an army of twenty-something level-one morons.”

Grim didn’t seem upset by the insult and answered flatly. “There are two ways to raise an army in this world. Firstly, you can attempt to gather creatures that already exist and turn them to a single cause, as did Bok’Tak. However, I must warn you that these creatures will not come to you if you are seen to be weak. More likely, if they are made aware of your presence and standing, they will attempt to dominate you and your castle, my Lord. You must treat this method more like conquest than finding alliances, and with the current standing of Castle Valeri, we would not stand much of a chance.”

“Right, so that’s pointless, then,” Henderson replied with a frown. “If I came across this castle on my own as it is right now, I’d destroy everything in it in a heartbeat.”

“Quite,” Grim replied.

“And the other way?” Henderson asked. “If I can’t entice other forces to join us?”

“We make the army,” Grim said.

“Make?” Henderson replied.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“My Lord?”

“You think that the answer to all this is to sit back and wait for… well, you know? And besides, how long does it take for two hobs to make a baby anyway?”

“Baby, my Lord?” Grim asked.

“Yes, of course!” Henderson snapped, his temper rising. “You’re saying we should build our forces naturally by making new creatures of Chaos!”

“That is exactly what we should do, my Lord, but I do not understand what babies have to do with anything.”

Henderson placed his thumb and forefinger on his temples and leaned forward in his throne.

“Do I have to explain everything?” he muttered. “You see, Grim, when a mummy hobgoblin and a daddy hobgoblin love each other very much… well, sometimes when they barely like each other, I suppose… they wait until nighttime when everyone else in the castle is asleep, get into bed together, and they, well, you know… make a baby hobgoblin.”

“My Lord?” Grim replied.

“Do I really have to spell this out to you?” Henderson groaned.

“My Lord…” Grim replied slowly. “You do know how the creatures of Chaos come into being, do you not?”

“Well, of course I know,” Henderson scoffed, waving an annoyed hand at Grim.

“I do not wish to insult you, my Lord, but you seem to be confusing human reproduction with that of the creatures of Chaos. Our hobgoblins do not have ‘mummies’ and ‘daddies.’”

Henderson stared at Grim, trying to discern if the hob was going out of his way to make Henderson seem like an imbecile. Upon reflection, again he went against his initial natural reaction and he decided to let it go.

“I, uh…” Henderson stammered. The fact was that he’d never really thought about how these creatures reproduced; he’d just assumed.

“What the humans do, from what I understand,” Grim continued, “is very messy business. Disgusting, really, and to take so much time too. Years in gestation? Then they grow from child to adolescence in what, decades? How could that ever possibly be sustainable?”

Grim’s nose scrunched up as he spoke about human reproductive timescales, and it made Henderson smile.

“Nine months,” he said simply. “And then sixteen years to reach proper maturity.”

Grim stroked his furry beard. “Well, is that really much better, my Lord?” His face twisted into one of uncomfortable disgust. “Did you really think that was how the creatures of Chaos reproduce as well? Just how many females did you think we have lying around, popping out their young like a never-ending river?”

Henderson bit his lip. The hob was right; to have fielded an army so large would have meant entire cities dedicated to reproduction. That was a thought he really didn’t want in his head.

“I guess I just never really thought about it,” Henderson admitted.

“Humans have walls to protect them as they grow, and they have the time to wait. This is not the way of Chaos, my Lord. We do not have the time to engage in such… disgustingness. Besides, it is not often that females of our species are created. It is more like a one-in-ten occurrence, perhaps even twenty. But they are just as good as the males in their tasks, believe you me, my Lord.”

“Right…” Henderson said, not quite sure of that. He’d never seen any females as anything more than mothers, cooks, or cleaners.

“But let us put all of that behind us for one moment,” Grim said, waving his own hand this time. It was almost as if the more time the hob spent with Henderson, the more human his mannerisms were becoming. “The creatures of Chaos are created. Not by some messy business, but by the Lords who control their lands.”

“What?” Henderson asked. “Like me?”

“Exactly, my Lord.”

Henderson paled, his mind immediately jumping back to the thought of human reproduction.

“No, my Lord,” Grim quickly followed up, sensing what Henderson had suddenly become afraid of. “The Lords of Chaos have access to a kind of currency called ‘Chaos Points,’ a rather ingenious invention by our God, if you forgive the commentary. Our God affords our Lords Chaos Points, which can be spent much like your Stat Points at level-up to bolster your position as Lord, not least of which can be done by increasing the size of your army or the levels of your soldiers.”

Henderson stared blankly at the hob, trying to digest this new information, and Grim continued speaking without a pause.

“You can gain Chaos Points by carrying out tasks as asked by the God of Chaos herself, proving yourself in battle or expansion, or through a natural accumulation once you have cemented yourself in your position as Lord.”

“Do I have any Chaos Points right now?” Henderson asked. “And how do I see them?”

Grim seemed to stand a little taller at that question, perhaps if he’d had bracers, he would have snapped them self-importantly.

“You currently have ten Chaos Points, my Lord,” Grim said. “And it is part of my duty as your humble servant to keep track of how many you have available. Whenever you would like to know how many points you have to spend, you can simply ask me.”

“Ten Chaos Points!” Henderson’s eyes widened. “Is that a lot? It feels like I must’ve been given a leg up to start with, right?”

“It is not strictly ‘a lot’, my Lord,” Grim replied. “Though it is more than five and less than twenty.”

Henderson debated kicking the hob out of spite, judging this response as at least purposefully sarcastic, but he refrained. He needed the hob right now, if for nothing more than to keep track of this new currency he seemed to have stumbled upon.

“How do I spend them, and what do creatures cost?” Henderson asked in a low tone.

“I can handle all of that for you, my Lord,” Grim replied.

“I know that,” Henderson interrupted. “So what can I get?”

“Right now, Castle Valeri has available to purchase: goblins, dire wolves, hobgoblins, and ogres as per our current complement. Others will become available as your castle grows, and sometimes additional races can be unlocked through expending Chaos Points. These creatures will cost you, in order: ten, fifteen, twenty and fifty Chaos Points. And when they arrive, they will be at just level one.”

“Right,” Henderson said slowly. “So you’re saying that with all the points I have available to me right now, all I can do is summon a level-one goblin.”

“That is correct, my Lord. May I say that is some rather fine mathematics.”

“Grim? Do you have a problem with me? Are you acting like this because I’m a human in charge of this castle?”

“What do you mean, my Lord?”

“I mean the sarcasm, the subtle digs,” Henderson said. “You don’t think I hear them?”

“I do apologise, my Lord. I was placed in my position to offer advice and guidance by the God of Chaos, and if you have a problem with my demeanour, I suggest you take it up with her.”

Henderson stared at Grim, once again trying to decide if he should kick the hob to teach him a lesson. He couldn’t see what level Grim was, which was strange in itself, and it gave him the feeling that it wouldn’t be in his best interest to try to hurt the annoying creature. But again, Grim was helping him, even if he was being a bit of an ass about it.

“So what should I do?” Henderson said. “I can increase the levels of a few of the minions we already have, can’t I? Is that better than getting a new goblin?”

“The choice is solely yours, my Lord,” Grim replied. “For now and at the lower levels of these creatures, to increase their levels would cost simply twice their current level in Chaos Points.”

“I know that,” Henderson growled. “I’m asking for your advice now.”

“In that case, my Lord, I advise that you wait a while. It will give you the chance to gain more Chaos Points and a definite direction to go in. Your points are minimal right now and it is unlikely any choice you make will have a large bearing on your course moving forward, but as they say: waste not, want not, my Lord.”

Henderson scratched his chin again. He knew Grim was most likely right, and he doubted the creature - whether he was annoying or not - would lie to him or purposefully lead him astray. But something inside of Henderson just wanted him to do something, something that would prove to any lingering doubt he had that this was all real.

“Bring me one of the goblins,” Henderson said.