Chapter 41: Goss's Little Scheme

"An ogre, a powerful ogre. He is as tall as that big tree over there, his arms are thicker than your thighs, and his voice is like thunder. He says his name is Roar..." Goss struggled to describe the ogre's massive build.

"An ogre, or an ogre shaman?" Gawain added, seemingly afraid that Goss hadn't understood his question. "Is his combat style melee? Or spellcasting?"

"Melee," Goss said with absolute certainty. "He uses a massive, crude wooden club thicker than my waist. I've never seen him cast spells."

"When does he usually come?"

"Once every ten days, usually in the last two or three days. It's not fixed; sometimes it's early, sometimes late."

"Alright, I understand. I appreciate your kindness. From here on, I'll handle things. You just go back and manage your people; make sure they mine as much as possible. It won't be long before my friend brings more food and new tools. I guarantee the price of the ore produced here in Black Well will be three times what you sold last time." Gawain waved his hand, intending to end the conversation with Goss and continue preparing dinner.

"That's it?" Goss looked incredulous. That was an ogre—a tremendously powerful monster that could devour half a kobold in a single bite.

"That's it," Gawain nodded with a smile. "As for other matters, we'll talk after I've dealt with that self-proclaimed Guardian."

Gawain's reaction was completely unexpected. Goss scratched the fine scales on his head, momentarily unsure of how to continue the conversation.

"By the way, what was the deal with those two new kobolds who just arrived?" Gawain suddenly remembered the two kobolds from earlier.

"They are warriors from a nearby tribe. They found the food here to be better and decided to join our tribe," Goss answered listlessly.

Under normal circumstances, Goss would have been jumping for joy, because for a kobold tribe, attracting members from other tribes to join them was a symbol of their own strength.

But now, Goss couldn't be happy at all, because this wasn't his achievement—it belonged to the human before him.

Once this human decided to leave and the extraordinary food was gone, these newly joined kobolds would revolt immediately, and might even incite the original members of the tribe.

"I see." Gawain rubbed his chin, his eyes narrowing into thin lines.

If Anna were here, she would surely whisper in alarm that Mr. Gawain was thinking of bad ideas again and someone was about to have a bad time.

This assimilative nature of kobold tribes was extremely beneficial to his future plans.

The plan Gawain had mentioned to Bed was merely the first step of his grand design. How could his gaze be limited to a single vein of ore or a tiny kobold tribe?

This was merely his first foothold. Once he established himself here, expansion outward was inevitable.

That was right.

Gawain intended to use these kobolds, who were essentially cannon fodder, to conquer the Rocklands.

From the moment he woke up again, Gawain had been planning.

His past life had proven that no matter how powerful an individual is, there are limits; one must possess their own power to better leverage external forces.

However, trying to establish power among humans, even with the help of memories from his past life, would be difficult to break through without three to five years.

First, humans are quite xenophobic. This trait isn't unique to humans; most intelligent races are the same. For long-lived races like elves and dwarves, it is particularly severe. There is an elven proverb: it takes a hundred years to know a person, and another hundred years to trust them.

Second, most factions are ruled by leaders. If he suddenly thrust himself in to seize power, there would inevitably be internal strife first, which would severely drain his energy.

After much thought, Gawain decided to break convention and focus his sights on monster races.

While monster races shared the aforementioned flaws, they were not as severe.

Most importantly, certain methods restricted by morality would cause no trouble among them.

The easiest monster races to start with were, naturally, goblins and kobolds.

There was a reason Gawain chose kobolds over goblins.

The main reason was that goblins had a much wider distribution and larger numbers, which led to more conflicts with human races and a much worse reputation. Many people held blood feuds against goblins.

Having traveled with Vic, this feeling was even deeper. Many well-traveled merchants treated Vic with discrimination due to his goblin identity, let alone ordinary people.

Goss had originally intended to use the ogre's name to scare Gawain and his group away.

In Goss's eyes, Gawain posed a greater threat to them than the ogre did.

He could see through the ogre bandit's needs at a glance: as long as his greedy desires were satisfied, he would pose no threat to the Black Well tribe or Goss's rule.

Gawain was different. So far, all his words and actions had exceeded Goss's understanding.

The man's reaction this time also exceeded Goss's expectations; he seemed completely unconcerned about the ogre bandit, continuing to hunt and cook as usual.

It wasn't that there were no changes at all; at least that female human went out less often, and even when she did, she usually didn't go far.

Finally, what made Goss's eyes nearly pop out of his head was that the human man, in his spare time, actually had that goblin warlock cast a spell to transform him into a kobold.

This discovery made the scales on Goss's back stand on end. How had he not thought of this?

Had the man previously transformed into a kobold to sneak into Black Well and investigate his secrets?

Or did he already know that the ogre bandit was coming to collect taxes?

Fortunately, in his attempt to scare him away today, Goss had told him about it in advance. If the man had discovered it himself, there was no telling how he would have dealt with Goss.

After turning into a kobold, the man didn't stay idle. In the clearing by the small river, he began practicing with various weapons. To be fair, his movements were unexpectedly fluid and graceful; even the peeping Goss stared blankly, not to mention the little kobolds who were barking and cheering on the sidelines.

...

"Burp..." Roar let out a long, loud burp.

He was in a very good mood today. Both the goblins and the kobolds were very obedient. Not only had they prepared rich tributes that filled his bags to the brim, but they had also prepared a large amount of food, allowing his stomach, which had been empty for two days, to have a proper feast. He hadn't made the trip for nothing.

Where was the next stop?

Let me think.

Was it a goblin tribe? Or a kobold tribe?

Ah, I remember, it was a kobold tribe—a very poor one. They hadn't given the full tribute last time.

If they couldn't produce double this time, he would definitely have to teach them a lesson. Should he snatch one of their younglings for a snack? Or kill the tribe leader and replace him with someone more capable?

"Mmm... smells good... this is the scent of bison... who hunted a big one? Could it be... that kobold tribe I'm going to? Could it be, they knew I was coming today... and prepared a tribute in advance? *Burp*... even though I've eaten quite a bit, if it's bison... I can still eat half a leg... the rest I can take back, enough to last me three to five days..."

With one hand dragging his giant wooden club and the other carrying a large bag, Roar waddled through the mountain pass with a protruding belly. The sight before him instantly made his hair stand on end with rage: "How dare you... how dare you eat my... my cattle..."

(End of Chapter)