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Goblin Chapter 77: Professional
🕑 Added 2025-07-26 19:26:17 +0000 UTCThe entire caravan, counting all personnel, had about fifty people, including fifteen guards.
In Gauss's opinion, a group of goblin “bandits” numbering in the dozens shouldn’t be that hard to deal with.
But after listening in for a while, he was surprised at how cautious the caravan was.
The caravan planned to set up camp on the spot and wait to see if other caravans passed by. If so, they’d group their guards together and go deal with the roadblock. If no one else showed up, they were prepared to accept economic losses and take the longer route around.
But after thinking about it, Gauss could understand why they made that choice.
Whether it was the caravan supervisors or the head guard, at the end of the day they were all just high-ranking employees. They weren’t about to risk their lives for a paycheck.
Even if the odds were only slightly unfavorable—or even balanced—no one wanted to take the initiative unless they had overwhelming superiority.
Once Gauss had gathered enough information, he returned to his own wagon.
He wasn’t an employee of the merchant guild, nor part of the hired escort. He was just an outsider who paid a fare. Even as a “prestigious” spellcaster apprentice, he had no say in matters concerning the safety of the whole caravan.
Besides, he didn’t have the ability to solo dozens of goblins, even with all his goblin-specific buffs.
So what else could he do? Keep reading his book, obviously.
Time passed.
Just when Gauss assumed the caravan had decided to detour toward Wormwood Town, a distant rumble of wheels echoed from behind.
"Stop!"
A group of mounted knights surrounded a luxurious, canopied beast-drawn carriage as they came to a halt behind the caravan.
Once they realized their path was blocked, a tall man clad in silver chainmail dismounted gracefully and strode forward to negotiate.
There was a calm, commanding confidence in his every step—clearly someone used to being in charge.
Perhaps impressed by the man's bearing, the caravan supervisors immediately softened their stance, bowed slightly, and patiently explained the situation up ahead.
Leaning against the side of his wagon, Gauss watched curiously as the scene unfolded.
Suddenly, the man up front turned around sharply, as if sensing something—and his piercing gaze landed right on Gauss.
Their eyes locked.
Gauss, who had been quietly spectating, felt a jolt.
"A professional?"
That one glance made his whole body tense, as if he were being stared down by a predator.
Even the magic inside him stirred, triggering some kind of subconscious defense mechanism.
It was uncomfortable, but Gauss didn’t look away. He held the man’s gaze for two seconds—almost like a mutual recognition—before both of them nodded faintly and looked elsewhere.
What Gauss didn’t know was that the man in chainmail had also felt a jolt of alarm.
There was something about Gauss’s presence that felt threatening—similar to the pressure he’d experienced when facing professional mages or warlocks.
His previously commanding aura quietly faded into something more neutral.
Out in the wilds, it was best to stay on good terms with people whose background you didn’t know.
Gauss turned to observe the new arrivals.
The caravan didn’t have many people—less than ten. The carriage in the center was clearly of higher grade than the others.
It was obvious the silver-armored man was a guard or escort. From what Gauss could sense, there were likely several more with similar strength hidden in that group.
"Also headed to Wormwood Town?"
One thing was clear: the goblin “bandits” up ahead probably weren’t his problem anymore.
That caravan alone was more than enough to handle them.
"Professionals just working as guards… I wonder who’s in that carriage? A noble, maybe?" In this era, commoners rarely had any opportunity to interact with nobility.
Gauss had very little knowledge of nobles himself.
From what he remembered, most nobles lived in large cities. Even if they owned land in small towns, they usually left its management to trusted relatives or officials.
He felt a few glances subtly directed at him and quickly looked away.
Definitely a few professionals in that group.
If they were willing to serve as guards, the person inside must be important.
As expected, things played out just as Gauss had guessed.
The noble caravan sent out only three people. Within ten minutes, they returned on horseback.
Their armor was still neat, with barely a trace of dirt—only some blood on the hooves hinted at the brief battle up ahead.
The merchant caravan gave them the right of way, allowing them to pass through first.
Only after the noble group had left did the merchant caravan resume its journey to Wormwood Town.
What could have been a minor crisis was resolved instantly by the arrival of that mysterious group.
Roughly ten minutes later, Gauss finally saw what remained of the “roadblock.”
On both sides of the road, goblin corpses—at least fifty of them—lay scattered in the mud.
Crimson blood soaked into the soil, turning the yellow-brown earth into a deep, dark red.
"Professionals really are strong," Gauss muttered.
Only three people had gone. Even accounting for horse speed, the round trip must’ve taken ten minutes—meaning the actual fight lasted maybe one or two?
Compared to that, Gauss knew he had a long way to go.
He couldn’t have killed fifty goblins that fast—not even with all his buffs. And those three had barely broken a sweat.
He could only admire them—and long to be like them.
To be that powerful. That free.
By the time Gauss’s wagon reached the outskirts of Wormwood Town, it was already past noon the next day.
A full day’s ride.
The checkpoint at Wormwood was noticeably stricter than Grayrock’s.
Long lines of wagons waited for inspection. After over an hour, it was finally Gauss’s caravan’s turn.
As a passenger, he had to undergo questioning and identity checks as well.
Thankfully, showing his adventurer’s badge saved him some time.
Once inside the town, he immediately noticed the air was filled with the scent of fresh herbs.
Along the streets, donkeys laden with herbs clinked copper bells around their necks. The clatter startled sparrows as crates were unloaded and carried into stores.
Cloaked apothecaries hurried down alleys. A girl sat in front of a shop, slowly grinding ingredients in a stone mortar.
At least 60% of the visible storefronts were in the herb trade.
Unlike the dusty grey tones of Grayrock, this was a town of lush greens and lively scents.
"Hey mister! Want a copy of the Wormwood Town Guide? Just 20 copper coins—it’s got everything you need to know!" A small child popped up beside Gauss, holding a stack of pamphlets and eagerly pitching them.
The sharp-eyed kid had clearly pegged Gauss as a first-time visitor.
"A guide?" Gauss raised a brow, eyeing the booklet suspiciously.
Twenty copper wasn’t much, but he wasn’t sure the contents would actually be helpful.
