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Goblin Chapter 243: Sena, a City near the Sea!
🕑 Added 2025-09-24 15:18:45 +0000 UTCThe warmth at Lawrence Camp far exceeded Gauss’s expectations—especially the laborers, who couldn’t stop praising and thanking the team—enough to make Gauss and the others a bit embarrassed.
From their point of view, they’d only done what the commission required.
They returned the ballista to Miller.
“You saved us a lot of trouble, Miller. That ballista and the alchemical bombs helped us immensely.”
Gauss thanked him sincerely.
The goblin chieftain had died to an alchemical bomb and the fire that followed.
“As long as they helped,” Miller smiled.
The same tools in different hands yield different results. An alchemical bomb only has value when it’s used; otherwise it just gathers dust in a storeroom.
Though Gauss couldn’t share details because of the commission’s confidentiality, Miller, a local, could guess that was no ordinary goblin band. If it had been allowed to keep growing, the consequences would have been unthinkable.
Gauss asked about conditions in camp, lingered a short while, then, citing the need to report intel promptly, politely declined further hospitality and took his leave.
He didn’t know that shortly after he left, a humble bard happily finished his composition.
The party rode on across the boundless wilds.
“Where do we claim the commission reward?” Alia turned to Gauss.
He was studying the map scroll closely.
“We’ll have to go to a big city.”
A small-town guild can file the paperwork, sure—but can it really deliver the exact resources we want, quickly?
“The nearest big city is… Sena, on Coral Bay.”
Judging by the map, their route had carried them far west already. The Forest Capital, Barry, lay to the east—by straight-line distance, the city Gauss had never visited, Sena, was closer than Barry this time.
Sena sits at the mouth of Coral Bay. Coral Bay is a beautiful, naturally curved, deep-water harbor: calm inner waters, deep enough for oceangoing ships; geography that grants immense strategic value and economic potential.
Sena is the eastern gate of the bay’s “three siblings.” The other two are Oakwood, the “White Cliff City” atop the western headland, and Hesperia, “the Wheatfield,” in the fertile mid-bay plain between Oakwood and Sena. Like three bright jewels set around Coral Bay, the trio jointly control this prosperous sea.
Sena—closest to them—thrives on trade, diplomacy, and cultural exchange. Wide harbor, dense merchant traffic, bustling markets where people of different races and faiths mix freely. A fine place to redeem their commission reward.
No one objected to Gauss’s proposal.
With the destination set, Gauss rolled up the map and aimed the party west.
“Serandur, did you come from this direction?” Gauss asked en route.
If he recalled, Serandur’s homeland was on islands off the west coast. Coral Bay was still far from the western sea, but at least they were headed the right way.
“I’ve never been to Coral Bay. When I set out from the west coast, I traveled inland,” Serandur shook his head. “Captain, you’ve probably never seen the sea.”
Gauss hesitated, then shook his head. “I haven’t.”
(At least, not since coming to this world—though in his past life, he’d been to the shore a few times.)
Serandur wasn’t surprised. Many people in this world never see the sea unless they’re born near it; even if it isn’t that far in a straight line, the dangers of the wilds put people off long journeys.
“The ocean’s more dangerous than inland—but more fascinating,” Serandur said, a faraway look in his serpentine eyes, voice low with homesick memory. “There’s no solid ground underfoot; a sudden storm can shred the stoutest ship like straw. Offshore, the fog is constant and thick; hurricanes rage like natural disasters; and in the deep, great sea beasts and countless sea-folk…”
His words piqued the others’ interest.
“But that’s the charm of it,” he went on, voice rough. “Coastal freedom and vastness—the land can’t compare. At sea, you’ll see glowing schools like a river of stars passing beneath the hull; dolphins that speak in moonlight; and in certain waters, a veil of ghost-blue luminescence so the ship seems to sail the night sky.”
Alia listened, a bit starry-eyed—she too was a child of the interior.
“The islands are the strangest of all,” Serandur added. “Many have unique mana climates; their ecologies diverge from the mainland—odd plants and rare beasts, monsters galore. Some hide ancient ruins, maritime bounty, and deep-sea magical materials.”
Gauss listened in silence, his mind sketching a new blue world. A region with a wholly different ecology meant new monsters—and new resources. Untapped blue ocean. Beyond the reward itself, the thought sparked a quiet excitement.
They rode for several more days, spending a few nights in small villages and casually wiping out a few roadside goblin ambushes—mere warm-ups after the main event.
As they pushed west, the air grew moist. A faint tang of briny surf crept into the wind—Sena was near.
Sure enough, after half a day, on a clear afternoon they crested a long coastal rise. From the hilltop, the view burst open: the sea, bright and vast.
First came the boundless blue, stretching to the world’s edge. Sunlight scattered across the expanse into a billion shimmering flecks, all the way to the hazy seam of sea and sky. It was a grandeur entirely unlike forest, mountain, or steppe—so awe-inspiring that Alia, seeing the ocean for the first time, couldn’t help a soft gasp.
“So this is the sea?”
She hopped down, stood in the wind, and stretched. Gauss dismounted too, eyes on the distance.
Before them lay Coral Bay, like an upturned sapphire shell: an arcing coast embracing a tranquil reach of water. Their destination—Sena—sat at the bay’s eastern river-delta plain. The city sprawled grandly—white buildings flashing in the sunlight from the shore far inland.
Most striking was the port: piers stretching along the coast, ships beyond counting at anchor, a forest of masts like winter trees stripped bare. Hulking freighters, nimble oared-sloops, even sleek, gun-bristling warships under strange flags. Tiny as ants at this distance, dockworkers swarmed; cargo cranes swung.
Gulls and other seabirds wheeled overhead.
They stood long on the slope. At last Gauss broke the hush. “Let’s go.”
He swung onto his chocobo, and with a light squeeze led the way down the winding road toward the bustling seaside city.
…
“Fresh mackerel—just landed! Care for a look?”
“Tom, step on it—the captain’s calling muster!”
“Out to sea again? Come on… I wanted a few more days’ rest.”
“Damn that port officer—raised taxes again. This business is dying!”
“Then quit?”
“I’ll… hang on a while longer…”
“…and the storms—more than usual this year.”
Sena had no obvious gates or walls. Before Gauss realized, he was in the outer city, swept up in a lively roar. Shops crowded the streets; swinging signboards everywhere; racks of dried fish and shrimp, spices from far shores. People jostled shoulder to shoulder. Along with bronzed sailors and merchants, Gauss spotted several “humans” whose skin bore scales.
“Those are humans with sea-folk blood,” Serandur murmured. “Common along the coast.”
Gauss nodded. “Sea-folk” wasn’t a single species, but a catch-all for oceanic intelligences—most near-human in form. Other shapes earned names like sea-beast, sea-hag, sea-monster. As he watched, the scaled folk poured water over themselves.
“Sea blood is gift and curse,” Serandur said sympathetically. “If they stay ashore too long, their scales dry and crack—split and bleed—painful, like fish out of water. They have to wet themselves often—or soak in seawater.”
“Some discriminate against them,” he added. “But to many captains and coastal trades, they’re fine sailors and workers.”
As if to prove his point, they hadn’t gone far before they saw a few older boys corner a younger, gray-pale brother and sister, their cheeks and arms dull-scaled, faint gill-lines behind their ears. The little brother crouched; the sister stood in front with arms spread.
“You two fish-stink brats—what are you doing on land and not in your tub?” a tall boy sneered, kicking up dust onto them.
“Ugh—you reek. No wonder Mum says you stink and won’t let us play with you,” another said, pinching his nose theatrically.
A third grabbed at the girl to yank her down, reaching for the shells clutched in the boy’s fist. Children’s malice can cut deeper than adults’.
Sunlight dimmed; the air cooled. A flat, chill voice sounded behind them:
“What are you doing?”
The boys whirled to see a tall woman—and behind her, a few formidable-looking companions. Feeling the pressure radiating from the black-haired woman, the boys blanched but bluffed: “S-sis, they’re just stinky sea-folk! And they—they stole our shells first!”
The siblings dropped their eyes.
“Is that so?” Shadow said mildly, black pupils fixed on the boy. He wilted under her gaze and kept silent.
“So you lied?”
“…”
“Apologize.”
As Gauss and the others approached, nearby grownups drifted over—some likely the boys’ parents. They’d started out puffed up, but when they saw four adventurers’ faces, gear, and badges, their bluster died. They shuffled up, nervous.
“Honored adventurers, our kids were just playing—no harm done,” one parent said, tugging a child backward.
Expressionless, Shadow watched. Gauss sighed inwardly. Children are mirrors of their parents.
“You feel for your children—don’t you think they have parents who feel for them? If you do wrong, you apologize,” Gauss said.
Perhaps it was the weight of his golden eyes; after a moment’s hesitation, the parents bowed their kids’ heads in apology. When Gauss didn’t press further, they hurried their brood away.
Gauss went over, helped the siblings up, and with a trick cleaned the grime from their clothes.
“Thank you, big brother.”
“Where’s your home? We’ll take you,” he said.
Though the four were intimidating, the two dropped their guard after what they’d seen. With an address in hand, Gauss took one small hand in each and led the way—no rush to find the guild.
Before long they reached a fish market and met the children’s father—a fishmonger with traces of sea-folk lineage. When he heard adventurers had helped his kids, the honest man thanked them over and over, then grabbed several fresh-caught fish to gift them. They declined and took their leave.
Outside the market, Gauss’s gaze lingered on Shadow. He felt her mood had lifted—like easing a weight—after helping. A strong sense of justice? He’d first seen her helping on a street, too. Just now, she’d spotted this from afar, told Gauss, and gone ahead.
“Thanks, Captain. I held you up,” Shadow said softly, a little abashed.
“It’s fine. Even if you hadn’t been there, I’d have stepped in,” Gauss waved it off.
(Truth was, Shadow had told them to go on to the guild; she would catch up. Gauss chose to follow.)
Thinking of the boys—and their parents—Gauss’s thoughts turned grim. Child’s scuffle on the surface—something deeper beneath. Was this really “fine”?
He shook his head. On their first day in Sena, for all its beauty, he felt a hint of the city’s complexities.
They asked directions and headed for the Adventurers’ Guild.
Clip-clop—
“Whoa.”
With a tug of the reins they stopped before a tall, white tower of a building. If not for the familiar sword-shield-staff insignia over the door, Gauss wouldn’t have recognized it as the guild at all.
