[WP] "Most dangerous monster? Well, vampires are pretty easy--just carry pencils. Ghosts are mostly irritants, werewolves collapse at silver, and dragons keep to themselves... Naw, it's one no one expects. It's--"

...

"-Goblins." The battlemage replied. "Goblins are probably the worst."

"Really now?" Princess Aurum muttered her reply, disbelief evident as the dinner conversation shifted once more. "Here we sit, you now having been sworn into my service for well over two seasons, and still you try to lie. Directly to my face, no-less."

"Ah, hold on. That's not a lie, your Highness." The man across the table waved his hand unconcerned with the added title of his response, directing his fork to follow in hot-pursuit of a snow-pea. He paused with a slight look of personal admiration as the green portion of vegetable fell victim at last. "Apologies for the misunderstanding, but in fact I'm very serious."

"Somehow, I find that difficult to believe." Aurum lifted her glass, eyeing the red wine which waited there. A deep hue, brought from the Southern territories by import. "One, for the simple fact you answered with that stupid grin on your face, but two: I've heard on good authority that Orcs are far more ferocious."

"Well, I suppose that's true." The mage replied, taking a final bite of his dinner with a careful chew. "The second part at least- But you must remember: Danger is influenced by the structure of its context." The Mage across the table seemed to have lost himself to thought, as he set his fork down to the table with a posture of mock-instruction. "For example: When I was in the West on drafted orders of the Holy Crusade, Orcs were by far the most terrifying of monsters the expedition encountered. Though now, being back in Doterra's borders and sitting at this wonderful table- I would have to say it's Goblins. It's context that defines the danger."

"Really now, Goblins? Nothing else compares?"

"Well, it's as I said. All monsters can be certainly be terrifying in their own right." Leaning back with a undignified stretch, the Mage held back a yawn. "A basilisk for example. Alone I might consider that the most fearsome of beast in the lands, but unless you're foolish enough to go deep within some uncharted mines or caverns, you'd never need to worry about such a creature. It would never cross your path, therefore being of little concern."

"What did you say about vampires? Pen-cils?"

"Ah, sharp bits of wood." Aurum watched as he scratched nervously at his beard. "It was mostly a joke, I'd say setting them on fire or throwing them into the sunlight works a lot better." Collecting himself under her continued glare, he continued, "Those creatures never work together, Vampires are solitary beings."

"And Werewolves?" Aurum's stare grew with intensity. "Werewolves are no serious threat?"

"They're usually quite friendly." His grin annoyed her. She still couldn't decide if this was just a joke.

"Friendly, you say?"

"Well, yes. One of my companions is a Werewolf." The mage only smiled wider. "Lars is probably the least dangerous monster their is, honestly speaking. He's a terrible fighter."

"The young shaggy-looking boy with the sword?"

"That very one." He replied.

"Interesting."

Aurum settled back, crystal glass settled in her palm above the wooden engravings of her cushioned seat. Months now, and still she was learning the previously overlooked details of her newest guards. Their hiring had been made through irregular channels and events, but she would have thought that such things would have long since been hashed out onto parchment and scribe paper.

"Fine then, I'll believe you." She sighed, before sipping from her glass. "But you must explain to me: Why?" Setting her win back to the table, Aurum signaled the waiting servant along the border of the room, quick steps bringing another filled glass to her waiting hand. "I've never heard of a renowned adventurer who considers Goblins to be the most Dangerous of the beasts which roam the Continent."

"Well, that's because they are, and they are not." Across from here, the Mage took a heavy sip of his own glass- ignoring the look of irritation that statement had earned him. It was as if he disregarded the presence of Royalty entirely. "Alone they're almost no danger."

"Don't speak riddles with me." Aurum cut-in tersely. "If any trained man with a knack for the sword or the magical arts can deal with a Goblin, how is it that you consider them the most dangerous? They're weak, primitive, and foolish creatures than even small villages can deal with. I see no convincing argument."

"Stop." With a sudden tone of seriousness, Aurum found the mage's playful smile had ceased. "Stop right there: It's because of that very attitude, I gave my answer." His wine glass set itself atop the table, half-filled contents shaking along the motions in a slow fall to equilibrium. "Goblins are not treated as a threat, and in that lies their strength."

Aurum felt as though a stranger had taken the chair across from her. Beyond their first encounters- in which she had dragged the man and his companions out of the stone-block cells of the deeper dungeon, it was rare that the battlemage acted with such intensity. Extraordinarily rare: An attitude that seemed to reserve itself for instances of combat alone.

Just watching him as he was,made Aurum consider turning over her shoulder to check for an approaching threat. Instead though, she leaned in closer to the table as he continued.

"When I first came to this place, I lived beside a Forest near a small farming village in the southern province of Redstone. It was there that the record of my fame began: the start of everything which came to one day lead me to become an Adventurer, and eventually bring me here to this very room." He spoke softly, voice careful on every word.

For once, there was no humor in his demeanor.

"Within that village, as in all the others passed through since, talk of Goblins was an idle thing. Like the weather, the contents of yesterday's dinner, or the approaching date of next-season's festival. Goblins were something spoken of to pass the time or to scare small children, but not a subject held with great seriousness. Much like you have just done, Goblins were spoken of as minor pests."

Aurum nodded slowly, eyes set as the man continued.

"But I, a foreigner then living beside the Forest, who hailing from a very different land unaccustomed to such creatures- thought differently." His right hand reached out to place a careful finger beside the ornate knife on the polished wood beside his plate, pushing it to spin on a slender balance in a slow circle. "I prepared for the real danger I saw and felt. The terror of those woods." As the knife spun, the mage's hands felt quiet and flat around it as the edge settled past with its lazy crescent, his expression held with a look of once-remembered horror as Aurum's focus watched the knife finally come to a stop.

When the blade came to rest, it pointed towards the mage's chest. He spoke quietly, pushing the utensil aside with a careful hand. "Then... one night they came."

"The Goblins?"

"Yes." He nodded. "An entire tribe of them, all at once. I still do not know the number." His hands curled to fists. "Prepared as I was, I killed more than I could ever have imagined, and if not for the one veteran warrior of the village who had listened to my words- coming to my assistance just as the bitter-end approached, I certainly would have died."

"That many?"

"Goblins care little for men when they are low in numbers, and they care little for reason other than to fill their bellies or content their lust. Lone and travelling women on the roads might feel wary of their presence, farmers might be concern for their flocks and crop, but any group of folk- armed or not feel little concern at all. That is their strength." His fists relaxed, slowly. "That Goblins are weak and pitiful alone, so much so that they can live ignored and unconcerned: to grow forgotten among the lands of this county not tended by mankind. Their strength is that just that."

Aurum watched as the man rose, eyes serious, smile long forgotten.

"They live within our borders, and in great numbers. It is that simple fact everyone seems to have forgotten, just as the Orcs, the twisted beasts and the violent monsters which roam about the world: Goblins are creatures of the Dark Lord. When called upon, they will do his bidding."

"The Dark Lord." Aurum trailed along his words, consider. There was a title and reference not uttered without great care, especially in Royal company; Aurum felt a growing dread at the very mention. That was an individual who could not be laughed away, even in the best of company.

"After their abrupt declaration of victory, the Western Holy Armies which rallied for that great Crusade have still have not returned. Not from either the South or the North. No words have been passed, either by letter or scribe, and the Great Faith has nothing but the soldiers still stationed upon the Great Wall which borders the West to defend us." His stare fastened itself towards the knife beside him on the table before he once again continued. "From what I've seen, the city garrisons are nothing but skeletons compared to what they were before, and those remaining veterans of combat are few and far between."

Aurum followed his gaze as he rose from his seat, still eyeing the silver edge of the blade sitting quietly on the table. It was strange that something so ordinary yet dangerous waiting in plain sight. There was an unconsidered tool, something which rested in great number at any meal- but it was very same weapon that had been raised against her by countless assassins since she had taken Doterra's throne.

"In this time and age, I hope you understand why I gave such an answer." Stepping back and bowing quietly so to take his leave, the mage spoke one last remark as he watched Aurum, following her line of sight once more to the knife. "Though it's not my place, I'd hope that you not disregard my words. We owe you a debt, after-all."

There, with that, the mage left Aurum sitting quietly in thought.

As she lifted her eyes, letting the servants sweep away all traces of the meal from atop the polished surface, she couldn't help but wonder. Even after the knife was gone, her stare fell to rest on the deep red of the waiting glass in her palm; perhaps with some deeper meaning than before.