The Day the Fortress Fell

The fortress of Grumhold stood proudly upon a rocky hill, surrounded by towering stone walls and several watchtowers that overlooked the vast plains beyond its gates. Hundreds of goblin houses filled the settlement within, their roofs made from wood and hardened mud, while merchants gathered around the central market and soldiers patrolled the walls, protecting the peaceful lives of nearly thirty thousand goblins.

For the goblins living there, it was an ordinary day.

"Hey, Tiko! Hurry up, or there won't be anything left!"

A young goblin with green skin and a pair of small, crooked ears ran through the crowded marketplace, clutching three copper coins in his hand.

His name was Rikko, and he was only twelve years old, an age when most goblins were still expected to learn basic survival skills before being assigned any serious duties.