Fenton chuckled as he watched the merchants run screaming into the night, a common reaction to people visiting The Weary Traveler inn. He’d figured they would have lasted longer since there were five of them and they were armed with daggers. Weapons and numbers often made humans feel more confident. In this case it hadn’t help.

“That has got to be a new record,” Fenton told his fellow goblins. Fenton’s oversized floppy hat nearly covered his beady eyes, and his shoes didn’t match. The grey skinned goblin was cleaner than most of his kind, a necessity since body odor might warn their victims.

Pug smiled and held up an hourglass. “Half an hour tops. I’d like to take the credit, but they never even reached my catapulting toilet.”

Fenton slapped Pug on the back, nearly knocking the thin, green goblin over. “Next time, pal, next time.”

The other twenty goblins laughed as the fleeing humans disappeared into the growing darkness. This was the fate of most visitors to The Weary Traveler, for the inn was not merely occupied by goblins but had been built by them. In contrast to most goblin buildings the inn was a well made two story wood structure with a brick fireplace, kitchen, bathroom, stable and eight rooms. It was billed as the first self service inn, with a slot next to the front door for guests to deposit a silver coin. Most didn’t, a wise move and likely the only smart thing they’d do during their stay.

In fine goblin tradition, the inn was a giant trap. Anyone setting foot inside The Weary Traveler faced traps ranging from simple snares to insanely complex mechanical traps that could throw grown men. The kitchen was bare of food but had a spice rack where every bottle contained hot pepper regardless of what the label said. A staircase leading to the second floor ended in a solid wall, making it impossible for visitors to use those rooms. Secret passages ran throughout the inn and allowed the goblins free access to every room. And, in a move of shocking intelligence, the goblins could turn off the traps in seconds.

“They were the first guests we’ve had in weeks,” Pug said. “We might have to tone it down a little, maybe let the next few groups have a quiet stay to get a good reputation.”

Fenton shrugged. “Yeah, we get more visitors when a few people recommend us. It’s that or we take the inn apart and move it to another road.”

Pug opened a secret door and put the hourglass inside. “That’s a lot of work for fresh victims. I think we should stay here until the place gets too beaten up to bother fixing.”

With the fun over and none more expected, the goblins went to work on their inn. It hadn’t taken much damage this time, just a few shattered clay bowls and a broken chair leg. Those were easy to fix. Guests at the Weary Traveler could do a lot of damage if they got mad enough. Years ago a family of dwarfs had torn the ground floor apart after their patriarch was ejected out of the kitchen and into a dung heap. They’d set off twenty more traps in the process, but it had taken Fenton and his fellow goblins a month to repair.

“We’ve got to start advertising,” Pug told Fenton. “I know a human who can write us a stack of fliers for a song, as long as it’s not Goblins in Oatmeal. Seriously, ten copper pieces gets you fifty fliers.”

Surprised, Fenton asked, “This guy takes jobs from goblins?”

Pug smiled. “It’s a tough market to get into and he’s got bills to pay. I hired him two years back to make fliers saying the king was offering bounties on live skunks. I was kind of surprised when humans brought five hundred of them to his castle. It made for an interesting week.”

“Ads could bring too many people,” Fenton warned. He swept up the broken bowls and dumped the pieces in a garbage can. Neatness counted in the hospitality business, and victims would leave too soon if the inn was messy when they arrived. “If we get a crowd they’ll band together when traps go off and come looking for who’s responsible.”

“Spread the fliers out a few each week and we’ll get around that. Be fair, my idea lets us do something with those coins.”

Fenton and Pug both turned to look at a wood bucket hidden inside the open secret door. Most people didn’t pay the suggested one silver piece for staying a night at The Weary Traveler. The goblins considered this fair since few guests stayed the entire night, and they didn’t turn off the traps for paying customers. But to their surprise some visitors did pay, and they had amassed two hundred silver coins. They had little interest in money since they couldn’t spend it, goblins not being allowed in stores. Having cash was bad policy for goblins since it encouraged people to rob them. Fenton and Pug didn’t know what to do with the money, and more came each year.

“We could bury it,” Fenton suggested.

“Or throw it in the sea,” Pug said.

“Kaleoth is a landlocked kingdom,” Fenton pointed out.

Pug took out a fresh chair to replace the damaged one. “Things change.”

Maintaining The Weary Traveler took a few hours each day. There were a surprising number of traps in the building that required regular tending. Pug did a lot of that work, and he grabbed a wrench from the secret passages to fine tune a slamming door trap.

Their routine was interrupted when twenty more goblins hurried into The Weary Traveler. Annoyed, one said, “We heard there were guests tonight. Why didn’t you invite us to come watch?”

Fenton rolled his eyes. “There wasn’t time. Those chickens ran off before we could send runners to get you guys. I swear, one human gets rammed by a stuffed moose and the whole bunch panicked.”

“This isn’t the first time we missed out,” the offended goblin said. “There’s nothing fun to do around here and you guys hog all the laughs.”

That was all Fenton was going to take. He stood up straight and pushed his hat up. “If you want to watch every show then you have to stay at the inn and help out like the rest of us.”

“But nothing can happen for weeks! It’s boring!”

Pug held up a boot one of the merchants had left behind. “It’s worth it.”

An eager goblin ran up and reported, “Humans coming!”

The whole mob ran over to the windows and peered outside. The Weary Traveler was on a lonely road between Kaleoth and Ket Kingdoms, Kaleoth known for being dirt poor and Ket for being led by three generations of morons. The land was flat and grassy, and you could see for miles even under the light of a half moon. Their new victims were a golden haired man and woman. Fenton squinted as he studied the pair.

“They’ve got a kid,” he warned. “Show’s over.”

The goblins moaned and whined, but they went into action. Goblins fanned out across the inn, pressing hidden switches to deactivate traps. Others ran through the secret passages to turn off more traps. The couple and their child had nearly reached the door when the goblins hurried into the secret passages and closed the doors behind them.

Fenton, Pug and the others watched from peepholes as someone knocked on the door. They knocked again, and after a short pause the man opened the door. “Hello? Innkeeper?”

The couple stepped inside, the man first with his hand on a sword sheathed in his belt. He was young, twenty at most, and wore expensive black linen clothes. His boots were lined with sable and the pommel of his sword was silver with sapphires that matched his blue eyes. The man had a lantern he lifted high to better light the room, but even the lantern had silver trim. He carried a backpack that bulged with what Fenton assumed was gold.

Not being a fan of the rich and powerful, Fenton had half a mind to reset the traps right then and there. He held back the impulse on account of the woman. Her clothes were in good repair but not so rich. She had a haunted look to her, like a person who’d been through too much. She cradled a tiny sleeping infant wrapped in a cotton blanket.

The woman pointed at a sign next to the door and the slot for paying. “It says we must pay a silver coin a night. Tristan, we’ve not enough left.”

Tristan studied the interior of the inn. “I’ll speak with the owner and see if he’ll accept labor or trade in lieu of cash, assuming I can find him. Sir! Madam! Pardon the intrusion at such an hour, but you have guests! Is no one here?”

The woman walked inside. “There’s no dust or webs in the corners. If the owner is absent, he hasn’t been gone long.”

“He’s not here now.” Tristan checked the nearest door and then the next one. “I dislike entering a man’s home without permission, but there’s nowhere else to stay. We’ll apologize to him in the morning. He’s sure to come then.”

The pair went into a bedroom with a bed trapped to collapse at the slightest touch, or it would have if it hadn’t been disarmed. Fenton led the others down a secret passage so they could continue watching the family through another peephole. Tristan set down his backpack and gestured for the woman to sit on the bed.

The baby woke and made a gurgling, cooing noise. Tristan stroked the infant’s chin and smiled. “She’s the splitting image of you, Isa. Your eyes, your strength.”

Isa began to weep and clutched the baby to her chest. Tristan dropped to his knees and embraced her, whispering, “No tears, dearest.”

“I can’t help it. You’ve lost everything because of me. You were better off before we met.”

“No.” Tristan’s voice was firm but kind. “My life was worthless. Not one minute was spent that my father didn’t plan. I was little more than a puppet, my ever word and deed his choosing. Marrying you was the only thing I’ve ever done that I’m proud of.”

“We run because of me.”

He kissed her. “We run, but not forever. I’ve friends in Oceanview Kingdom who can help us start anew. We’ll not know riches, but I’ve seen how little value gold really has, and our daughter will be happy. Peace, wife, we will have peace.”

The couple went to sleep, and Fenton led the goblins out of concealment. Pug frowned and pointed at the infant girl. “Bummer.”

“Yeah, the little lady is going through a rough patch,” Fenton agreed.

Fenton searched the man while he slept, a delicate maneuver but one he’d practiced for years. The backpack contained only food. The man’s wallet contained five small copper coins, but Fenton didn’t recognize the markings on them. He’d seen coinage from all the surrounding kingdoms and a few from far away. The goblin returned the money and frowned. How far had these people traveled?

The other goblins studied the baby with great interest. Goblins weren’t that bright and got especially confused around children. Newborn goblins look enough like human and elf infants that many goblins couldn’t tell them apart. Children say and do silly things because they don’t know better, which pretty much summed up goblin behavior.

Even rare smart goblins were attracted to children. In a pinch goblins first inclination is to stick together. Being small and weak meant their best chance at survival was in groups, the bigger the better. That instinct kicked in when they encountered infants or children of other races. Their first impulse was to protect, and if necessary add them to the group. That wasn’t called for here, but they still felt drawn to do something.

The goblins went back to the secret passages and went through their accumulated loot. Many visitors of The Weary Travel fled in such a hurry that they left property behind. A quick search through piles of lost and abandoned goods turned up a few possible gifts.

Fenton grabbed a handful of silver coins. “We can get rid of some of this garbage and help the kid’s parents at the same time.”

Pug dug through a bag until he turned up two small stuffed toys. “I’ve got a teddy bear and a ducky.”

“Good. We’ll give her the bear.”

Sounds a bit hurt, Pug said, “I was going to give her the ducky.”

“What for? It’s been scientifically proven that teddy bears make things better. Ducky’s are just good company.”

Pug held up the toys. “We can give her both.”

Fenton rolled his eyes. “Fine, but I want to make it clear the bear’s going to do the heavy lifting in this partnership.”

The goblins snuck back in and filled the man’s wallet. They opened the baby’s blanket and placed the toys in her arms. As always they were stealthy enough to avoid waking a guest. There was some disappointment since they normally sabotaged guests’ belongings and occasionally sewed their clothes together.

With this done the goblins retreated to their secret passages, satisfied they’d done what was needed. Fenton was a bit bothered that he’d lost an opportunity to spread confusion and chaos. Maybe it was time to start advertising after all.

“There’s a light coming down the road,” Pug said.

Fenton went to a peephole pointing outside and saw the light. It was coming from the same direction Tristan and Isa had, and approaching so fast it had to be someone riding. That was odd. Few people rode at night given the risk that a horse could trip and break a leg.

“If it’s another insurance salesman I’m filling his pants with live trout,” Fenton promised.

Pug folded his arms across his chest. “You said I’d get to do the next one.”

The light stopped at the front of the inn. There were two horses, one carrying a man and the second saddlebags and backpacks. Both animals were healthy, young and good breeds. The rider was an older blond man who chilled the goblins’ hearts.

Something was wrong with him. You could see it on his face with his scowl and narrow eyes. Big and strong, his shoulders were broad and his arms powerful, but his muscles twitched. His clothes were rich, silks and linens dyed dark blue and black, and he wore jeweled rings on both hands. His lantern was black with silver edging. He tied the horses’ reins to a post outside the inn and marched to the door.

Worried, Fenton ordered, “Lock him out.”

Pug pulled a lever to lock the door while Fenton left their hidden refuge to bar the door from inside. The other goblins huddled around the peepholes, and when Fenton rejoined them he had to push them out of the way to look outside.

The older man grabbed the door handle and pushed hard. When it failed to open he snarled and took a bronze gauntlet from his horse’s saddlebag. He slid it over his left hand and marched back to the door.

“What’s he think he’s going to do?” Pug asked. “That door’s oak and inches thick. It’s held out bandits, griffins, wyverns and a really surly unicorn.”

The gauntlet lit up as the man made a fist and pulled back for a punch. Fenton scrambled back and shouted, “They didn’t have magic! Brace yourselves!”

Wham! The door flew off its hinges and sailed across the inn’s common room before landing in the kitchen. The blow sent shockwaves through the inn and knocked over the goblins like they were bowling pins. The couple woke with a scream as the older man marched inside the inn. Fenton got to his feet and looked out a peephole in time to see Tristan and Isa step into the common room and meet the intruder.

“No!” Isa clutched her baby tighter to her and backed away.

“You wench,” the older man spat.

Tristan got between them and drew his sword. “Don’t you dare call her that!”

“I’ve harsher things to say to you,” the older man retorted. “Idiot boy! You failed me a thousand times, but this disaster makes all others pale in comparison. Years of work arranging a marriage for you into nobility, and you threw it away for a serving girl!”

Safe inside the wall’s secret passage, Pug asked, “What do we do?”

“Haunted house routine,” Fenton ordered. The goblins had perfected many ways to make a stay at The Weary Traveler the stuff of nightmares. They knew dozens of ways to infuriate, annoy and humiliate. The haunted house routine was their best.

“I threw away nothing worth having!” Tristan shouted back. “The baroness despised me. Only crushing debt made her father even consider marrying her to a commoner. Your money could buy her hand, but never her love.”

The older man swung his armored fist at a table and smashed it to splinters. “I didn’t need her to love you! I needed her to carry your children. Our family would finally have noble blood and the connections to go with it. Untold riches wasted, squandered for a passing fancy! You could have had this girl on the side, kept her in a house in the country and visited her when you pleased. You didn’t have to marry her!”

Fenton missed more screaming as he climbed a hidden staircase to the second floor. The thick walls muffled the shouting while he searched among the mass of colored and numbered levers that operated traps below. Pug joined him with two more goblins. They opened peepholes to the rooms below and took their places at the controls.

“Timing this is going to be hard,” Fenton warned. “We have to get the jerk and miss the other two.”

Pug looked down a peephole. “He’s getting closer. Red lever number eight in three, two—”

“No, father,” Tristan said. “I will never go back under your roof and your rule. I have a wife I love. We have a child.”

Tristan’s father growled as he raised his armored fist. “That can be corrected.”

“One, now,” Pug said.

Isa screamed as the older man advanced on her. Tristan raised his sword to attack when a floorboard dropped beneath the older man’s foot. He cried out in surprises as he tripped. Tristan and Isa backed away in amazement.

“He’s getting up,” Pug said. “Pull blue lever number ten in three, two, one now.”

A board from the ceiling swung down and struck the older man square in the face. He howled in outrage more than pain as he staggered back. Gripping his face with his right hand, the man shouted, “What is this?”

Fenton ran from the levers to a metal funnel pointing downstairs. He took a deep breath and tried to sound bigger and scarier than he was as he shouted into it. “For five times a hundred years I have called this home, and never has blood been shed within it! You would be the first to bring violence here since I lost my life? Nay! I say thee nay! Be gone, and let these walls not know sorrow again!”

Isa gripped her husband’s arm. “Tristan, the building’s haunted!”

The older man threw back his head and screamed in defiance. “No man living thwarts my will, and I’ll not let the dead stop me, either! I’ll bring your precious walls down and stain them red!”

“He’s by the kitchen door,” Fenton told the other goblins. “Pull ever lever there!”

The inn’s common room seemed to explode as attacks were launched from the walls, ceiling and floor. Boards swung like clubs, walls opened and fired pots filled with mud, while live spiders rained down from the ceiling. Most of the attacks missed and the older man batted aside some with his magic gauntlet, but enough hit that he was forced to his knees.

Tristan took his wife’s hand and tried to lead her away, but his father recovered faster than the goblins had thought possible. The older man lunged at the couple, howling and swinging his gauntlet. Tristan swung his jeweled sword. Sword met gauntlet, and the blade shattered like glass.

“Do something!” Pug shouted.

Fenton pulled a lever triggering their second best trap. A hidden door slid open and a stuffed moose slid out on wood rails. The taxidermy animal rammed the older man in the back and knocked him to the floor. Tristan and Isa fled the inn while the older man was down. Down but not out, the older man swung his gauntlet and tore the moose open, sending sawdust flying across the common room.

“No!” Fenton yelled. “He was three weeks from retirement! You animal!”

The older man got up, staggering and disoriented. He shook his head and looked up. “Noises above. This inn’s not haunted, it’s inhabited!”

Fenton and Pug looked to one another. Pug shrugged and said, “Give him credit, he’s the first to figure it out.”

The older man yelled a battle cry and attacked the inn. He smashed furniture and ripped apart walls, revealing the secret passages and a startled goblin who ran for his life. The man ran after him, tearing open the walls as easily as a farmer shucking corn. Fenton triggered two more traps that hit the man in the shin. That slowed him down, but he grabbed a chair with the gauntlet and threw it at the ceiling. Boards broke and Fenton fell through the hole. He landed on the man and jumped off.

“Goblins? My son consorts with serving girls and now goblins? I’ll kill him and you!”

Fenton backed up, his eyes darting across the ruined inn in a desperate search for anything that could stop this maniac. He backed up until he hit a wall, and as his enemy raised his fist for a fatal attack, he saw a way out.

“Your son’s stealing your horses.”

The older man’s jaw dropped and he lowered his fist. He ran to the door in time to see Tristan throw off the saddlebags and backpacks from one of the horses before helping Isa onto it. He mounted the other horse, and taking the reins of both animals rode off into the night.

“You’ve got a long walk ahead of you, old timer,” Fenton sneered.

The older man roared and ran after them. For a moment Fenton thought the lunatic was going to chase them, but instead he took off his magic gauntlet and dug through his baggage. Then he stood up with a crossbow.

Pug ran downstairs and saw what was happening. “What is it with this guy?”

Fenton grabbed Pug’s arm and pulled him to the bathroom. The older man needed to load the weapon, giving the goblins time to act. They reached the bathroom and catapulting toilet trap, their finest accomplishment. The trap could throw a man out a window into a horse trough outside, but it was also in line with the madman.

“Take off the pins holding the toilet down,” Fenton ordered. He and Pug pulled them out as the older man notched a crossbow bolt and stood up. The goblins yanked out two metal pins, and Fenton pulled a hidden lever for the trap.

Sproing! The catapulting toilet trap was only supposed to throw an unfortunate victim outside, and depending on the timing anything he’d left in the toilet. With the pins removed the trap hurled the toilet out of the inn. In an act of blind luck goblins everywhere would be proud of, the ridiculous projectile sailed through the air and hit its target with enough force to knock him over. The toilet, crossbow and older man’s right arm were smashed.

Fenton ran out of ruins of The Weary Traveler. He heard Pug shout for him to stop, but he knew the fight wasn’t over. Tristan and Isa had escaped with their baby, but the older man still had his magic gauntlet that fit over his left hand, and he could come after the goblins. Fenton raced past the older man howling in anguish. The madman saw him and struggled to get up. Fenton grabbed the magic gauntlet before the older man could reach it. The goblin was shocked when it clamped onto his left hand. His hand wasn’t nearly big enough to wear the thing, but when he moved his fingers the gauntlet’s fingers mirrored his actions.

The older man screamed in rage as he staggered after the goblin. Fenton spun around and held up the gauntlet, glowing like a lantern. The man stopped, his eyes locked on the potent weapon. Neither of them moved. Fenton was better armed (a first in goblin history) and unhurt, but the man had a longer reach and was the better fighter.

“I don’t get to decide how this ends,” Fenton told him. “That’s on you.”

They stood there a moment longer. Goblins swarmed out of the inn armed with clubs and kitchen utensils, including one goblin carrying a whisk for some reason. The older man bared his teeth before grabbing a saddlebag. He draped it over his left shoulder and then picked up a second one with his left hand, then walked off in the same direction as Tristan, Isa and their daughter. He couldn’t hope to catch up to them, nor could he do them harm with his right arm broken, but reason didn’t stop him anymore than love or loyalty to family had.

The goblins watched him leave. There was no sheriff or city guard they could hand him over to if they beat him, nor a reward for the effort. Pug walked over to Fenton and asked, “You okay?”

“Been better.” He looked at what was left of The Weary Traveler. “Not looking forward to fixing that.”

“Me neither. That was, uh, kind of heroic, rushing after a crazy human armed with a magic weapon.” Pug squinted at his friend. “Did somebody swap out your brain? Take off the hat, I want a look under there.”