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Just a little short story I wrote over the course of a few days, to practice on-the-fly plotting and to get some more experience with certain characters.
It’s set in my world of Kalasha, but several years before the book I am currently writing.
It’s not very good, but maybe someone will like it
enjoy, and tell me what y’all think!
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Kapital, capital city of Goblizto (the goblin kingdom)
A map of Goblizto, for reference.
Hedwig Reiter hit the ground running.
Her package was tucked securely under her arm. It was just a few loaves of bread and apples. Kapital was a big city, and the rich goblins who lived in the upper districts had plenty of food, so why shouldn’t she take a little bit from one of the estates? It wasn’t as if that stuffy baronet would have missed them or anything. She had to eat too! Why didn’t anyone seem to understand that?
“Stop, thief!” one of the guards chasing her called out, for what seemed like the millionth time. Hedwig had to give them credit: the continued pleas for her to stop in the face of Hedwig very clearly refusing to do so showed either a great deal of determination, or a great lack of intelligence.
Hedwig’s feet slapped against the cobblestones. She was tearing holes in her shoes at this speed, but they had already been rags anyway, so this wasn’t of concern to the girl. She could make new shoes later, and the bruises her feet would get from the stones were nothing compared to how much the guards would beat her if she was caught. She ignored the burning pain that was building in her feet and pressed on.
She barrelled through a cluster of pedestrians, who issued a series of colorful swears in her direction in response. Hedwig turned her head to blow a raspberry back at them, and watched as her pursuers tripped up and stumbled as they ran into the pedestrians. A soft, melodious laugh escaped Hedwig’s lips as she turned the corner and ran out of sight.
She was in an alleyway now, part of Kapital’s labyrinthine network of alleys and gutters. The guards would not be able to navigate the maze, but Hedwig had learned her way around in the years she’d been in the city. All she had to do was make a few turns, and she’d be as good as disappeared.
When Hedwig decided she had gone far enough, she stopped to rest. She slid down against the side of a building and came to a seated position on the cobblestone ground. She wondered what time it was. She had become less and less aware of the passage of time since she’d begun to live on the streets. She had a vague awareness, but the loss of regular meal times blurred things. She ate when she could, and survived how she could. That, she had learned, was the code of street life.
She curled her toes. Her shoes were ruined - the fifth pair this had happened with. She’d have to steal some more fabric to make a new pair. Inconvenient, but not impossible. She’d probably stolen enough money to buy a pair, but it would be a waste; until she had enough money to live off the streets in perpetuity, any clothes she bought would wear out just as much as the ones she stole. She wondered how much money she had accumulated by now. She had been grifting and pickpocketing in Kapital for five years now, so she probably had obtained a reasonable amount. Likely, she’d soon have enough funds to comfortably start a new life in some other country - Srintalo, perhaps. Or maybe Dessen. Somewhere far away, as far away from her family as possible.
Her head itched. It’d been weeks since she washed in the river. There were too many people at this time of year, even at night. It would be a few more weeks before she would be able to have enough privacy to clean. For now, she scratched at her dirty and matted hair. Her health had deteriorated since she’d arrived in Kapital. Her skin, once an olive green, had yellowed considerably, and she had lost at least two teeth. She was thin and gaunt, and dark shadows clung below her eyes. She wondered what her family would think if they saw her in this emaciated state.
They would probably say it’s what I deserve, she supposed. They were the ones who threw me out, after all. As if it was my fault I prefer women. Why should it matter if that “violates tradition” or “threatens our bloodline?” Shouldn’t my feelings take precedence?
Not to her family, it seemed. The House of Reiter fit the stereotype of the stuffy, arrogant, aristocratic family perfectly. They had cast Hedwig out and cut her off when she refused to pretend to be something she wasn’t. In less than a day, Hedwig had been slapped in the face with the harsh reality which the common folk faced each day: the nobility only cared about what was of use to them. Anything else was disposable.
But Hedwig survived, to spite her former family. She would raise herself back up and spit in the face of the aristocracy. This was what she had sworn that day, and she had worked to achieve that goal since then without rest. She would not allow herself to fail.
Her stomach rumbled. She had been lost in thought for too long, neglecting the food she held, and her stomach protested this. She acceded to her hunger and stuffed the bread into her mouth greedily. She did not waste a single crumb. Before she knew it, the bag was empty and her stomach was full. She gave a half-groan, half-sigh of contentment. It had not really been that heavy of a meal, but she had been so hungry that it had felt like a feast.
She wondered again what the time was. She had a vague certainty that evening would arrive before long, and she could begin her daily hustling of the compassionate marks giving alms in front of the temple. She thought she might feign boils today, or perhaps leprosy. Those always drew in the big donors. Taking pity on a poor, wretched leper was a good way for the rich to look as though they cared about others.
“Preparing tonight’s grift?” came a voice from down the alleyway. Hedwig started and snapped her head in the direction of the voice. She beheld a pair of goblins, both tall and thick men dressed in black. The taller of them stood behind the shorter, arms crossed and face stoic. The tall one had a thick beard that grew down to the top of his chest.
The shorter of the two had mossy-green skin and black hair that was slicked back with grease. he had a cocky grin, a hand on his hip, and the eyes of a trickster.
“We’ve had our eyes on you for quite some time, Frau Thief,” the short one said. He pronounced “thief” as if it were a great and honorable compliment. “I must say, we’ve been quite impressed. You can pick pockets, you can scam, you can rob, and you can throw just about anyone off your trail. Your competency as a street rat is remarkable.” Again, he used words that had always been used as insults toward Hedwig, and made them compliments.
Hedwig sighed. “I can’t say I’m happy to have been stalked by a pair of thuggish-looking goblins.”
The short one clicked his tongue and shook his head scoldingly. “Oh, not stalking, Frau Thief,” he protested. “Stalking implies malicious purpose. My associate and I have merely been assessing your capabilities and observing your habits in choosing marks. The latter of those is especially important for our purposes, as it reflects your priorities and character.”
“How’s that?”
The short goblin held up his finger. “It’s very simple,” he explained. “My associate and I have no interest in opportunistic thieves who make no distinction between marks. A thief who will take from a starving peasant as readily as a decadent noble is repulsive to us. Our interest is in those rare thieves with scruples - the ones who understand that the enemies are at the top.”
“Is there a point to all of this?” Hedwig asked with a roll of her eyes. “I don’t have all day. If posturing is all you’re going to do, I’d like to take my leave.”
The short goblin grinned again. “My name is Alfher Klingezunge,” he introduced himself. “The big man behind me is called Guntram Falkenrath. We have made it our business to bring together a group of like-minded scabs of society: a band of thieves, cutthroats, and scoundrels with a mutual distaste for the aristocracy and nothing to lose. We will strike at the powerful and the elite, and raise up the downtrodden, miserable refuse of society - and make a cozy profit in the meanwhile.
“As I’ve said, Frau Thief, we have been observing you. Not once have you stolen from anyone but the wealthy. You even take advantage of the self-indulgent faux compassion of the rich outside the temple. Whatever your reasons are, you exclusively target the rich. I admire that. That’s why I’ve decided to offer you a spot in our merry band.” He held out his hand. “What do you say, Frau Thief? Do you want to give the aristocracy what they’ve got coming to them?”
Hedwig considered for a moment before smiling and taking Alfher’s hand and standing. She and Alfher were around the same height, and they stood exactly at each other’s eye level. “First,” she told him, “my name is Hedwig. Secondly, I expect to be provided with clothing, food, and weapons. I’m quite fond of curved knives. Finally, I don’t care how uncouth you underworld types are, I will not be tolerant of harassment of any sort. It’s your responsibility to ensure that your men keep their hands to themselves. If they fail to do so, they will likely find themselves lacking hands entirely. Is that clear?”
Alfher smiled. “Absolutely, Frau Hedwig. All conditions agreed to. Shall I show you to our camp?”
Before Hedwig could respond, the guards that had been chasing her before turned the corner into the alleyway. “There she is!” one of them cried. “Stop right there, thief!”
Still trying that line? Hedwig thought. I suppose I admire their determination. She glanced at Alfher. “Camp sounds good right about now, yeah.”
Alfher grinned. “Follow me!” He and Guntram broke into a sprint, with Hedwig close behind, as the guards charged.
Hedwig’s feet slapped against the cobblestones. Once again, she found herself running away.
She wondered if she would ever be able to stop.
It’s set in my world of Kalasha, but several years before the book I am currently writing.
It’s not very good, but maybe someone will like it
enjoy, and tell me what y’all think!----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kapital, capital city of Goblizto (the goblin kingdom)
A map of Goblizto, for reference.
Hedwig Reiter hit the ground running.
Her package was tucked securely under her arm. It was just a few loaves of bread and apples. Kapital was a big city, and the rich goblins who lived in the upper districts had plenty of food, so why shouldn’t she take a little bit from one of the estates? It wasn’t as if that stuffy baronet would have missed them or anything. She had to eat too! Why didn’t anyone seem to understand that?
“Stop, thief!” one of the guards chasing her called out, for what seemed like the millionth time. Hedwig had to give them credit: the continued pleas for her to stop in the face of Hedwig very clearly refusing to do so showed either a great deal of determination, or a great lack of intelligence.
Hedwig’s feet slapped against the cobblestones. She was tearing holes in her shoes at this speed, but they had already been rags anyway, so this wasn’t of concern to the girl. She could make new shoes later, and the bruises her feet would get from the stones were nothing compared to how much the guards would beat her if she was caught. She ignored the burning pain that was building in her feet and pressed on.
She barrelled through a cluster of pedestrians, who issued a series of colorful swears in her direction in response. Hedwig turned her head to blow a raspberry back at them, and watched as her pursuers tripped up and stumbled as they ran into the pedestrians. A soft, melodious laugh escaped Hedwig’s lips as she turned the corner and ran out of sight.
She was in an alleyway now, part of Kapital’s labyrinthine network of alleys and gutters. The guards would not be able to navigate the maze, but Hedwig had learned her way around in the years she’d been in the city. All she had to do was make a few turns, and she’d be as good as disappeared.
When Hedwig decided she had gone far enough, she stopped to rest. She slid down against the side of a building and came to a seated position on the cobblestone ground. She wondered what time it was. She had become less and less aware of the passage of time since she’d begun to live on the streets. She had a vague awareness, but the loss of regular meal times blurred things. She ate when she could, and survived how she could. That, she had learned, was the code of street life.
She curled her toes. Her shoes were ruined - the fifth pair this had happened with. She’d have to steal some more fabric to make a new pair. Inconvenient, but not impossible. She’d probably stolen enough money to buy a pair, but it would be a waste; until she had enough money to live off the streets in perpetuity, any clothes she bought would wear out just as much as the ones she stole. She wondered how much money she had accumulated by now. She had been grifting and pickpocketing in Kapital for five years now, so she probably had obtained a reasonable amount. Likely, she’d soon have enough funds to comfortably start a new life in some other country - Srintalo, perhaps. Or maybe Dessen. Somewhere far away, as far away from her family as possible.
Her head itched. It’d been weeks since she washed in the river. There were too many people at this time of year, even at night. It would be a few more weeks before she would be able to have enough privacy to clean. For now, she scratched at her dirty and matted hair. Her health had deteriorated since she’d arrived in Kapital. Her skin, once an olive green, had yellowed considerably, and she had lost at least two teeth. She was thin and gaunt, and dark shadows clung below her eyes. She wondered what her family would think if they saw her in this emaciated state.
They would probably say it’s what I deserve, she supposed. They were the ones who threw me out, after all. As if it was my fault I prefer women. Why should it matter if that “violates tradition” or “threatens our bloodline?” Shouldn’t my feelings take precedence?
Not to her family, it seemed. The House of Reiter fit the stereotype of the stuffy, arrogant, aristocratic family perfectly. They had cast Hedwig out and cut her off when she refused to pretend to be something she wasn’t. In less than a day, Hedwig had been slapped in the face with the harsh reality which the common folk faced each day: the nobility only cared about what was of use to them. Anything else was disposable.
But Hedwig survived, to spite her former family. She would raise herself back up and spit in the face of the aristocracy. This was what she had sworn that day, and she had worked to achieve that goal since then without rest. She would not allow herself to fail.
Her stomach rumbled. She had been lost in thought for too long, neglecting the food she held, and her stomach protested this. She acceded to her hunger and stuffed the bread into her mouth greedily. She did not waste a single crumb. Before she knew it, the bag was empty and her stomach was full. She gave a half-groan, half-sigh of contentment. It had not really been that heavy of a meal, but she had been so hungry that it had felt like a feast.
She wondered again what the time was. She had a vague certainty that evening would arrive before long, and she could begin her daily hustling of the compassionate marks giving alms in front of the temple. She thought she might feign boils today, or perhaps leprosy. Those always drew in the big donors. Taking pity on a poor, wretched leper was a good way for the rich to look as though they cared about others.
“Preparing tonight’s grift?” came a voice from down the alleyway. Hedwig started and snapped her head in the direction of the voice. She beheld a pair of goblins, both tall and thick men dressed in black. The taller of them stood behind the shorter, arms crossed and face stoic. The tall one had a thick beard that grew down to the top of his chest.
The shorter of the two had mossy-green skin and black hair that was slicked back with grease. he had a cocky grin, a hand on his hip, and the eyes of a trickster.
“We’ve had our eyes on you for quite some time, Frau Thief,” the short one said. He pronounced “thief” as if it were a great and honorable compliment. “I must say, we’ve been quite impressed. You can pick pockets, you can scam, you can rob, and you can throw just about anyone off your trail. Your competency as a street rat is remarkable.” Again, he used words that had always been used as insults toward Hedwig, and made them compliments.
Hedwig sighed. “I can’t say I’m happy to have been stalked by a pair of thuggish-looking goblins.”
The short one clicked his tongue and shook his head scoldingly. “Oh, not stalking, Frau Thief,” he protested. “Stalking implies malicious purpose. My associate and I have merely been assessing your capabilities and observing your habits in choosing marks. The latter of those is especially important for our purposes, as it reflects your priorities and character.”
“How’s that?”
The short goblin held up his finger. “It’s very simple,” he explained. “My associate and I have no interest in opportunistic thieves who make no distinction between marks. A thief who will take from a starving peasant as readily as a decadent noble is repulsive to us. Our interest is in those rare thieves with scruples - the ones who understand that the enemies are at the top.”
“Is there a point to all of this?” Hedwig asked with a roll of her eyes. “I don’t have all day. If posturing is all you’re going to do, I’d like to take my leave.”
The short goblin grinned again. “My name is Alfher Klingezunge,” he introduced himself. “The big man behind me is called Guntram Falkenrath. We have made it our business to bring together a group of like-minded scabs of society: a band of thieves, cutthroats, and scoundrels with a mutual distaste for the aristocracy and nothing to lose. We will strike at the powerful and the elite, and raise up the downtrodden, miserable refuse of society - and make a cozy profit in the meanwhile.
“As I’ve said, Frau Thief, we have been observing you. Not once have you stolen from anyone but the wealthy. You even take advantage of the self-indulgent faux compassion of the rich outside the temple. Whatever your reasons are, you exclusively target the rich. I admire that. That’s why I’ve decided to offer you a spot in our merry band.” He held out his hand. “What do you say, Frau Thief? Do you want to give the aristocracy what they’ve got coming to them?”
Hedwig considered for a moment before smiling and taking Alfher’s hand and standing. She and Alfher were around the same height, and they stood exactly at each other’s eye level. “First,” she told him, “my name is Hedwig. Secondly, I expect to be provided with clothing, food, and weapons. I’m quite fond of curved knives. Finally, I don’t care how uncouth you underworld types are, I will not be tolerant of harassment of any sort. It’s your responsibility to ensure that your men keep their hands to themselves. If they fail to do so, they will likely find themselves lacking hands entirely. Is that clear?”
Alfher smiled. “Absolutely, Frau Hedwig. All conditions agreed to. Shall I show you to our camp?”
Before Hedwig could respond, the guards that had been chasing her before turned the corner into the alleyway. “There she is!” one of them cried. “Stop right there, thief!”
Still trying that line? Hedwig thought. I suppose I admire their determination. She glanced at Alfher. “Camp sounds good right about now, yeah.”
Alfher grinned. “Follow me!” He and Guntram broke into a sprint, with Hedwig close behind, as the guards charged.
Hedwig’s feet slapped against the cobblestones. Once again, she found herself running away.
She wondered if she would ever be able to stop.
