Key To A Goblin's Heart

Joining the army was probably the best thing that I had done in my life. I say so in retrospect, having spent a huge portion of my life as an army cadet, and then being promoted to the post of a general and then the commander. It wasn't a piece of cake, but atleast I was accepted there. I was treated as an equal, not like some roadside scum that has come to good fortunes. It was difficult at first, not everything came so easily to me as everyone had assumed, but I never let them know that. I had to be discreet as I had been my whole life.

For all of them, I was the golden boy. I had the great looks, a natural charm and a way of talking that attracted a lot many people. I was a popular right from the start, maybe because I was so well versed with all the war tactics that my father had diligently taught me. He was a popular too, as I had heard and maybe somehow that had percolated to me. 

Everyone talked how easy I had it all. The skills, the charm, the looks everything. No one could see the darkness that was inside me, no one could understand that I wanted to escape my head all the time. I had friends, but this time I took care not to get too close to anyone. I had learned the price of attachment only too well and God forbid, if I had to face a separation again. I didn't think I had it in me to bear all that again, so this time I took care. 

The War that ravaged across the countries was a secret escapade to me. I grew stronger and more skilled, I fought in numerous battles so that by the end of the day I had to sleep with my ears closed, because the slightest bit of noise would give me a fit. 

There wasn't a bad reason for it though. 

I still remember the day when I first knew the cruelty of war. Even if the flashbacks weren't playing in front of my eyes, I could still have played out the whole scene in my brain. It had tormented my life, so that every waking hour had become an agony. I had grown so much since then, but nothing could reverse the trauma that I had faced. 

The War had been going on for a few months now, and as usual we Arphoelians were struggling against the mighty force of Mafhaelore. Everyday bore some bad news, we heard that the northern front had fallen and then the fleet that had tried to flow through the river to the Island country of Birchips was sunk. Our only hope of an ally was gone. 

Mafhaelore was probably at its strongest then, a huge and trained army, an enviable fleet and an able commander. Cassadrei's mother, the Queen, was nothing but an war prodigy, if there's even such a thing. She fought like a beast, slewing man after man from our sides and nothing we did seemed to perturb her in the least. 

I was a junior cadet then, and it was my first war. The erstwhile commander had ordered us to retreat, so that we can support the Western platoon that was now engaged in a battle with Mafhaelore. The platoon was falling short, and desperately needed reinforcements, so there we were….. a healthy group of a thousand Soldiers, marching our way through the dense dark forests. 

It was monsoon, the trees had a sublime green hue to them and the rainwashed sky wore a facade of clear blue. The moon shone high above our heads, and the bright light had managed to cheer up our mood despite the anticipation of an upcoming battle. Wine flew loose, and it was a night of absolute entertainment. 

The fire crackled merrily, and I sat there with my friends, talking about strategies and revising our war plan for the last time. No one was much interested in talking about war, but I still coaxed them to discuss it because I remembered my father's dictum, "A battlefield is like an institution. It must be worshipped like one. Rather than indulging in frivolity, we should always be on alert, and constantly on the go to improve ourselves."

No one followed my dictum for long, though. They were all sufficiently drunk in no time, and the boisterous voices overtook my sane warnings. No one wanted to talk about war, they wanted to discuss girls. 

I groaned at the prospect, because I knew where this was going. 

"So, Magnus what about you?" My buddy Leon said, nudging me in the ribs as the smell of alcohol from his breath waffed through my nostrils. 

I tried to detach myself away from the group, but there was no going away. 

Leon pulled me by my hands, and made me sit on the floor beside him. 

He offered me a barrel, which I politely refused. 

"Oh come on man! Be a sport, why are you like this all the time? You never drink with us! Are you beneath you or something, is that why you treat us like this?" He said, his voice infused with pure sarcasm. 

"It's not like that." I said hastily, lest his drunk mind assumes something else, "I just don't want to drink. It's nothing personal, but my father always said that one should always be on his guard while on duty."

Leon snorted, his spit flew through the air and narrowly missed my face for which I was grateful. 

"Your father... blah blah blah. He seems like a fine man, but he really did have a lot to say on everything! Come on, Magnus….do you really have to listen to everything that he had ever said? Can't you let go for one evening? Just one evening, I promise...this will be forgiven by him...may his soul rest in peace." 

I looked at others desperately, searching for someone who would show any amount of support to me. But there were none. They were all ridiculously drunk by now, and none of them cared about my father or his lofty ideals. And, defiling a young cadet with Alcohol has always been something of a tradition among the war campers. 

"It's okay man.." Geoffrey said, "We are not exactly on duty now. We are marching and it'll be atleast two days before we reach the Western borders where the actual fighting is taking place. You can let loose for one evening, no one will care. It's not like we are under attack and we are partying."

Everyone boisterously agreed to his statement, taking a generous sip from their own respective barrels. 

I guess I had to give in. 

I took a small sip, but Leon would have none of it. He forced the barrel down my throat, and by the time I had finished, my eyes were burning and my mouth tasted weird from the fire of alcohol on my tongue. A warmth was creeping in, my muscles were relaxed and suddenly everything seemed so meaningful and happy. 

We gossiped about a lot of things, they all spoke about their sweethearts back home and were astounded that I had none. 

"But that can't be possible!" Leon said, "You are so extraordinarily handsome, you must be having girls swooning over you!"

I laughed at his comment and agreed to the "swooning" part, but told them that my father had never wanted me to shift my focus, so I had never got the opportunity to talk to girls. 

The amazement that it caused and the incredulity was unbelievable. Leon shook his head in despair, and made me drink another large glass of wine in an attempt to show solidarity for my pathetic love life. 

By the time I realised that I had too much, I was barely able to stand up. My head was spinning and I was seeing everything as a blurred monogram. I had vomited twice and the other soldiers unanimously agreed that I had to retreat for the night. I simply couldn't stay there any longer. 

I don't remember who carried me to the tents, that were far inside the forests and as I lay in the floor, a thought rose in my mind. I wanted to thank Leon, for forcing me to have a drink because I hadn't had such fun ever in my life. 

The tents were build back into the forests, away from the place where the soldiers were celebrating right now. I could hear mild voices of laughter and I don't know when I was lulled to sleep. 

I woke up to disaster. At first, everything was so silent that it was almost creepy, I had probably never known a morning so dim. My head was still heavy from hangover, and I somehow crawled out of my tent into the daylight.

The other tents were empty. In fact, I was the only one standing amidst a vast array of constructed tents and none of them bore any signs of having slept in. I was thoroughly confused, did the guys fall asleep near the bonfire?

I somehow made myself walk, despite my terrible headache and reached the site of bonfire. And what I saw there, would forever continue haunt me. A thousand soldiers lay sprawled on the ground, their eyes closed as if they were peacefully sleeping, yet their lips were black and none of them showed any signs of life. 

My knees gave away, and I simply fell to the ground. My friends, my fellow soldiers….all of them...dead! While I slept peacefully in my tent, they were murdered viciously in their mirth and my heart crumpled to pieces at the sight of the ghost of a smile that adorned their face. 

I knew enough about poisons, so it was easy to see that they had died from the effect of Thrysalis. It is a tropical plant, grown exclusively in Mafhaelore, which gives out a poisonous smoke on being burnt and the smoke will kill everyone within a short distance of it. Someone had been a traitor, and had put the poison in the bonfire when everyone were almost dead drunk, knowing fully well that they won't be able to move quickly enough to save themselves. 

It was a well thought out scheme, except that my luck had deceived me and saved me to bear the torments of seeing my friends dead like this. I knew that this was Mafhaelore's plan, to further cripple us, and at that moment I had decided what I really wanted to do with my life. 

I wanted to end the war forever. I wanted to destroy Mafhaelore.