Ralph and the Pixie

In other company, the Thane would have laughed out loud.

Astride his horse, just out of bowshot of the Elven archers, Prince Cir waited impatiently for Mirrindale’s reply. At his back, his army choked the road and the valley of the River Mirrow beyond. Viewed from high above, the appearance of his Goblins hordes more resembled the antics of a clumsy garter snake with its head stuck in a constricted place, than some fearsome poisonous serpent looking for a likely place to inject its lethal venom into its intended victim.

He was well aware that the city’s occupants would never parlay with the Goblin army and its leader. But this tactic was aimed at the occupants of Mirrindale, primarily at the Merchants, whom he hoped would make trouble for the Elven army, either by trying to undermine the Thane’s authority, or by working some sort of mischief.

The Prince fully expected the Thane and his entire army to be inside the city’s walls, along with the outsiders from another world that the King wanted for his own reasons. He did not dare fail in this task. The King had charged him with succeeding, warning Cir against failure.

If this tactic didn’t work, then he would simply wait. Time would serve just as well, starving the occupants and setting them at each others’ throats.