Chapter 228

The messenger came several hours later, well past midday. Natalie and her team, having not been doing much besides idly training and chatting while they waited, were ready to spring up at a moment’s notice and rush off.

There were a number of ways to swiftly cross large distances, the most prominent being the system of trains that linked Valhaur. Of course, there were more personal methods, though more expensive, like enchanted wagons or horseback. Fortunately, the roads in Tarenhelm were well maintained, so a wagon was feasible. Natalie did know how to ride, should it be necessary—for example, if they had needed to cross rougher terrain—but it wasn’t a skill required down in the dungeon, so her experience with horses was limited.

Though Tarenhelm had solid roads, the ride was nonetheless bumpy. The wagon rushed across the ground at a ridiculous speed, weaving past other traffic. A single horse pulled them, but their speed was more thanks to the wagon’s enchantments than the animal at its head.

In less than five minutes, they’d arrived to the farmstead under attack. The wagon screeched to a halt, and Natalie and her team piled out, withdrawing their weapons and scanning the scene.

They’d left behind the city proper, now in a sparser part of town—the true outskirts—where farms dominated the landscape. She didn’t take in the quaint little barn and farmhouse, though, and rather critically analyzed her surroundings as far as combat was concerned.

There were, indeed, goblins. Between twelve and fifteen of them that she could see—more than she’d expected. Three were crowded around a dead, abandoned mule, tearing into the creature with glee. Others were battering into the grain silo’s door, trying to break it open. The barn doors were swung wide; there were likely more goblins inside. In fact, by the screaming of various animals, there certainly were.

But her concern was, of course, on the shattered windows of the farm and the door hanging on its hinges, broken into like the goblins were attempting with the grain silo. They had already breached the farmer’s home.

There was likely a panic room with a better-secured door—perhaps a basement—that they had retreated into, standard practice for anyone vulnerable to monster attacks, but they also might not have been fast enough. Natalie knew she had to brace herself for the worst-case scenario.

There were, at least, no human corpses outside the farm.

She didn’t particularly like fighting humanoid monsters simply because it made her uncomfortable. That said, murderous, vicious creatures like goblins? Even if they were intelligent, which they weren’t in any true sense, they were also evil. She had no qualms about putting down disgusting things like them.

They didn’t have time to waste. She had no idea whether the farmer and his family were safe inside his house or if they had found some other means of escape, but every second that passed was potentially crucial. Having scanned the situation, Natalie glanced at her teammates to make sure they were ready—of course, they were—then gripped her hammer, nodded, and rushed forward.

One of the goblins spotted their approach immediately. It pointed a green-skinned finger at them and screeched, alerting its allies. The others stiffened and spun, stopping their various activities—whether it was feasting on the dead mule, breaking into the grain silo, or carrying various items into a growing pile at the side of the farm. The last of which was the oddest piece of the puzzle: the hoarding behavior the Baron had mentioned.

The raiding party saw their well-equipped group of five and immediately burst into a blood frenzy, every single one of them screaming wildly and rushing toward them, brandishing impromptu weapons. Knives, axes, even a few with bows, who immediately started slinging poorly aimed arrows at them. No strategy, no teamwork, just pure lust for killing. Like most dungeon monsters.