Godfrey sadly could not avoid being called back to be showered with gifts for saving Serendity from a diplomatic incident with a thief stealing a princesses necklace and was promptly given the responsibility of a lone, squalid rural area on the border of the kingdom, near the mountain range that acted as barrier to the colder north.
The forests were lush here, the darkest of greens, the tree's old and thick, the woods here were old, many rumored to be ancient and magical, some even having stores of ruins or secrets from the mountains themselves. The mountains peaks just in sight from the rural area, however, not all was right.
Most of the houses were in disrepair, boarded up walls with clear gaps to the inside, the thatch rotten and looking ready to collapse into the tittering houses. The grain storage leaning like it may fall at any moment, and the fields looked dead, with but few stalks still up, like someone salted the earth. What villagers remained looked like the undead, starved or wounded from unseen force, and few there was. The supposed house he accquired with the deed to the land with a hut...that promptly collapsed soon as Godfrey showed up. The villagers hiding in their own almost collapsed huts.
Godfrey was on a horse, the same one he rented once to carry Missendria, he still bore the scars, and they were worth it to this day. He was happier then ever to despite the obvious dubious and quite frankly, literally dying farm in front of him. In the time since his meeting with certain dream seeker, he had dreamed even higher, he was happy, and it kept him going as he did tasks not because he thought he needed too, but because he wanted too. He helped those who needed it, serving as a hero to the people around here. Other places could wait when Serendity, his own kingdom suffered.
He did frown at the collapsed hut, and the area, what manner of such could allow it too fall to this extent? He had asked the villagers who remained, saying it was goblins, a mountain tribe ruled by some orc or hobgoblin, demanding they raid.
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According to what he was told, it was quite a large tribe, and not one willing to listen to diplomacy. So here he sat, in a town miles over in an inn, hiring adventures and mercenaries with what few coin he had to take on this threat. He was not a rich man, but not poor either from his years helping others, and had quite a bit of connections with the local towns he had helped, his good name spread, getting plenty of glory seekers and those looking for a few silver coins. But not any hardened troops, he did have land, but he had yet to reap such a benefit when it was already collapsed, he had to restore it.
He had collected about 15 men, 4 of them poachers and hunters, which were which he was not sure, in such rural places, both went hand in hand. The rest were those in leathers with spears, hatchets, or long dirks, unable to afford better equipment, nor could he blame them. It took him an entire year of fighting bandits and other monsters to get such equipment of chain and a solid shield, and he almost lost his life for taking the fast route!
They were in the tavern drinking, laughing about what riches they would earn from this tribe of goblins, Godfrey was not in such a cheer at his own table, sipping his ale, not celebrating like the others. These men were laughing...but how many would die? They thought it a joke, but it was surely not, battle was a serious manner, many he thought may flee, about half he suspected. He sighed as he looked over the tavern, sitting in his own peasant clothing, unable to afford better himself, only in name was he better.
He looked for one more to hire, one more, or even a kind person to take up arms to help the land, other wise, it was doomed to fall and what he had the good fortune to receive would be lost due to raiders. Maybe it was already doomed? But he had to try, he had to try and save them now, it was his farm and people after all.
