Smugglers and Dungeons!

Chapter 23: The Goblin Manager

The Black Market, Ingrid's home, was in another dimension. It was no dungeon.

 No, it had once been a ship.

One which had brought Ingrid to these shores. One full of the mana of her village's shaman.

Ingrid's mother had been a follower of the Good Queen. The woman, a family breaker, had not been good. That was what Ingrid had learned as the woman's rival had listed her many crimes.

But Ingrid's mother, Brunhilde, had refused to change sides.

 No, the only thing she had done for her only child was to give her the axe: Ice, and the ship where Ingrid had made her Black Market.

The blonde was all wrapped up in bandages. No one wanted to die. The guards had put on a fight.

But they had been just guards. Not someone who could put up a fight against a true Viking berserker. Or a Norman, as her people called themselves so often.

It was strange, Ingrid decided, being called a Viking.

The humans of the Empire of Plenty thought that every Norman with a ship was a king.

And why shouldn't they? Every Norman fleet came down on a village like sharks. Its captain being the one to take off with the loot.

Her people had done much against the world.

And yet, people like the Little Mistress still believed that Ingrid was just a kitchen maid.

"Mistress?" Gilbert, her goblin manager, asked, as he placed a heavy ledger near her. "Yesterday's winnings were good, but I think that we could…"

"Gil," Ingrid began.

She had saved the goblin from a pack of guards. They had been drunk. The goblin was civilized.

 Had begged in perfect Common Tongue for his life and the life of his mother.

But the child had to watch as the woman was put through the horror more than one human woman had been put through by the hands of goblins. This time by the hands of humans.

Gilbert was tall, for a goblin.

Maybe because he was just a half-breed.

Just like Icarus.

Just like Ingrid.

"Do you think that Icarus will be back?" She asked, trying to chase away the horrors she had put an end to with Ice.

Too late.

But she knew that Gil had found it in himself to forgive her. Or, at least, she had hoped he had.

"Well, if he doesn't, then he's dead," Gilbert was pragmatic. He knew that he had no chance outside of the Black Market. Even their customers only suffered his presence because Ingrid had named him the manager of the place. "And if he's dead, we should move on."

Ingrid sighed.

"I know," there was no going back to the palace for her.

Lady Mei had already organized a search party for all three of them. Should Icarus come back to the town, they needed to get out as soon as they could.

The cards were stacked against them. And yet, Ingrid refused to set sail through the void. To move to another safe haven.

To become a kitchen maid once more.

"Is it nice, being in love?" Gilbert asked her. The days when he thought that he had any chances with Ingrid were long gone.

She was a human. He was a goblin.

Besides, even as just a ghost, Icarus had still set the bar too high for Gilbert's legs to spring over.

Still, he never stopped dreaming.

"No," Ingrid told him. "They leave you, eventually. Find someone better. Better bred. Stronger."

Ingrid balled her fists.

"Prettier," she hissed that part. Imagining how she was going to turn the elven lady's pretty face into a ruin if she saw her without Icarus.

"Better learned," she continued. Her greatest shame airing out to her greatest friend.

"But you know what?" Ingrid said, as the front door's bell rang. "Love is love. Poison and sweets. You are lucky that you are not in it."

Gilbert bowed his head.

"Yeah," he replied weakly. "I'll go see to the customers. Can you please look at the numbers?"

Ingrid sighed, taking the ledger.

"Thanks," the goblin made his way towards the front of the shop. He could feel something strong coming off it.

 Something legendary.

Ah, someone had come to palm off their family's honor. Gilbert smiled a smile befitting of a goblin.

He was going to fleece them.

As he rounded the corner, he already had a million and one argument about why someone had to give him their treasure for peanuts.

Only to freeze.

There he was, Icarus. Looking at the daggers on offer.

And next to him, a pretty elven lady.

Oh, Gilbert thought, finally understanding what Ingrid had meant, how sad.

"Master!" Gilbert yelled. He hated having to refer to the boy as such, but he was Ingrid's intended.

They were married, or as good as.

Gilbert didn't want to lose Ingrid's cold light in his life. He didn't want to return to the existence of a goblin.

The existence of an animal.

Human life was not just companionship and joy. No, it was also bowing your head at those you hate.

Gilbert knew that better than most.

"Gil!" The horselord in elven skin yelled, rushing to him.

They embraced like brothers.

Gilbert wanted to stick his claws into Icarus' green eyes.

Elven eyes.

Everything about this boy screamed wolf to the half-goblin. He hated him. Hated the fact that even now, with the pretty brunette by his side, he still had Ingrid's heart.

That he was still the master, and Gilbert was the serf.

Another word came to the goblin's mind, but he forced himself to swallow his spite.

He was doing this for Ingrid. There was nothing he was not ready to do for her. She had given his mother Ice's mercy.

She had killed off the guards. Even as her own tears had run down her cheek.

She was his light.

But Icarus was her light.

"The Mistress is looking over the ledger! I've been trying to get her to do that for the better part of the hour. Perhaps I can assist?"

"Sure!" Icarus said.

Proving to Gilbert that he didn't love Ingrid.

Just found her useful. Or else, he would have run to her. Hugged her, kissed her.

Just like Gilbert dreamt of doing…