The Goblin who shot the arrow felt all too proud of himself for a moment.
This is something everyone who got guard duty was taught. If a Royal was present, then alert the Clans to their presence.
The flag was how they did that. And it was he who shot it.
The Goblin who announced the return of not just any Royal, but the Future King of Goblins. So it was expected that he would feel proud of his accomplishment.
Until one of his fellow guards interrupted his moment.
“You muncher!! What did the… the… you know who say to General Lago? He didn’t want to be announced! At least four Clans will be aware of his presence before he even makes it to Central!”
The Goblin in question froze… his fellow guard was right… instantly all of his pride vanished and promptly left the door open for a cold glass of dread to fill its place.
The rest of his shift would be a long one.
…
The Krell Clan was one of the smallest Clans in the Dark Lands of Mir.
They didn’t really specialize in anything like the Shadow Clan or the Pogra Clan, for example, but they took pride in their identities as members of the Krell Clan.
And even more than that, they took pride in guarding the entrance to Goblin Lands. It was a very important role, as this was their only escape out of the Dark Lands of Mir, and if an attack came from this direction, the earlier the rest of the Clans found out about it, then the earlier they would be able to prepare and hopefully survive whatever came their way.
So there was always a Krell Goblin monitoring the area where the arrows from the guard post would generally fall.
There wasn’t a specific pinpoint location to expect the arrow, as there would be no time for precision shooting from such a distance in the scenario that they came under attack.
But that didn’t mean it could be aimed all over the place.
There needed to be some level of consistency to where the flags landed; otherwise, things would get missed at some point in time.
A location was identified as the general area where a flagged arrow needed to land, and all the guards were trained to ensure that was always the case.
So when the arrow watcher on duty heard the whistle of an arrow in the sky, he sat up straight and only waited to see if the color of the flag on the arrow was red or yellow.
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It had never even crossed his mind that the color could be anything else other than red or yellow.
He opened his eyes wide, closed them, then reopened them again a few times once he saw the color of the flag.
Green.
That only meant one thing.
It took a few moments for the meaning of it to settle into him, and he immediately started panicking.
The first thought in his head was to, of course, make sure he was seeing it right and not just tired from a long shift, and once that thought passed, the next was to wonder if it was a mistake—but then it hit him.
He did guard duty on the cliff too. The green-flagged arrows were kept to the side because they were never used. If your intention was to grab a yellow or red one, it was impossible to mistakenly grab one that was green.
Simply impossible…
The second that thought firmly rooted itself in his mind, the Goblin turned and sprinted with all of his might towards the house of the Krell Chief.
“Chief!!!”
The Goblin burst through the door of the house and ran to where he knew the Chief usually spent his time.
Hearing the commotion, the Chief left the confines of his office and stepped out to see what was happening.
He was a bit shorter than his Tier Six peers, but he was quite burly. His chest was uncovered, and his lower half was covered in hide that was made out of a particularly nasty Tier Five creature of Mir.
“What’s happening?!”
“Chief!! A flag!! A green flag!!!!”
The Chief paused for a moment, then grinned.
“Send runners to the Zeth Clan immediately! All Chiefs and essential personnel are to gather in the Central Clan at once! Our Future King is here!!”
The Chief barely let his orders hang in the air before he rushed out of the building and his voice boomed around the small Clan.
“The rest of you! Prepare for the arrival of the Future King!”
The members of the Krell immediately began moving with more passion than any of them ever had in their entire lives.
It didn’t take long for the runner to depart and successfully reach the Zeth Clan. It was another one of the small Clans in the Dark Lands of Mir, but they were closest to the Central Clan, and they also rightfully claimed to have the fastest group of Goblins in all of Mir.
Once the news reached them, a flurry of activity promptly commenced, and Goblins raced out left and right like it was nobody’s business.
The guard atop the cliff was right. By the time Rick made it to the Central Clan, at least four—and likely more—Clans would be aware of his presence in the Dark Lands of Mir, and soon a movement of Chiefs and other Goblins would begin towards the Central Clan.
Meanwhile, Rick, who had finally reached the bottom of the long stairs, heard the sound of a whistling arrow flying overhead, but before he could worry, General Lago calmed him, and with an awkward smile he let Rick know what the arrow was.
Rick could only nod plainly after hearing about what would be awaiting them in his first stop at the Krell Clan and then further waiting in the Central Clan.
He was not looking forward to all of the attention.
There wasn’t a single Goblin in all of the 14 Clans who wouldn’t drop whatever it was they were doing if Rick ordered them to do so. He could shut down events, start new ones, lead them on wars, tell them to run away from a war, and anything and everything in between.
But telling them to completely disregard his presence and not celebrate his appearance with all the fanfare they wanted?
He couldn’t bring it in his heart to try and force them to do that.
So he just walked in line with the group, and it didn’t take very long for the Krell Clan to enter their sights…
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