“U-understand I-I do n-not.”

“I d-don’t understand either”

Both Kyat and Hasan expressed their confusion in response to their ‘promotion.’ But before either of them could speak any further, they were interrupted by Walter’s voice.

“Please don’t misunderstand my words. I said that ‘whoever proves themselves to be worthy will be promoted.’ In this case, that would be the two of you.”

“B-but then who will-will b-become the leader of-of Clan Primis?”

Walter chuckled before he answered Hasan’s question.

“The answer to that should be obvious.”

He made a gesture to himself as he spoke.

“Me.”

All the rattmen, including Kyat and Hasan appeared both surprised and anxious upon hearing Walter’s declaration. Evidently, none of them trust him yet despite pledging their loyalty towards him. It wouldn’t even surprise him if their show of loyalty was only superficial, nor would it worry him.

Rattmen were universally known to be cowardly and opportunistic species. He believed that he already exploited the former during his little escapade with Rootek while he was halfway through exploiting the latter. With a reassuring voice, he spoke to the rattmen.

“Worry not, I shall fulfill my promise. In fact, I’m going to fulfill part of that promise right now.”

He gave a single backwards glance to Thyvin when he said that, signalling to the necromancer to grant the rattmen their ‘rewards.’ With a placid smile, Thyvin obliged. After a few long moments of waiting, he, along with his skeletons parted sideways to make way for the incoming gifts.

Numerous more skeleton goblins carried boxes and crates which were nearly the same size as them with each one often carried on the backs of two or more skeleton goblins. A horrible stench accompanied them as they made their way towards the rattmen yet the rats didn’t seem to care.

Group by group, the goblin skeletons opened their crates before dumping all of its contents onto the floor in front of the rattmen, forming a rather large pile of goblin flesh. Previously, these stacks of goblin flesh were the ‘useless’ by-product of Project Green Thumb, for virtually no one wished to purchase goblin flesh.

Now, Walter was glad that he had found as use for that product, to be utilised as cheap food for his new ‘labour force.’ Unsurprisingly, an expression which he could only guess to be a mix of shock and joy appeared on the rattmen’s faces. It was no secret that rattmen were a desperate bunch, especially after their fall from grace a millennia ago.

Even when presented with raw, rotting, goblin corpses as food, the rattmen still undeniably expressed their elated delight when they saw the mounds of consumable food. Walter even saw some of the rattmen lick their lips and heard some of their bellies rumble, ready to consume their meals that was offered to them in return for their ‘services.’

With eager and expectant eyes, the rattmen turned their impatient gazes towards Walter, dozens of beady eyes begging their master to relieve at least a small portion of their insatiable hunger. Walter found his lips curled upwards into a smile as he spread out his hands and questioned the rats with a casual tone.

“What are you waiting for?”

Like a messiah bringing salvation to his people, Walter similarly brought deliverance to these starved, desperate, rats with a single word.

“Feast.”

For a short moment, there was a period of silence upon Walter uttering that one word. Said silence would promptly be broken by a single, unified–

“Gnaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

The rattmen’s hoarse scream echoed throughout the cavern as they swarmed towards the mounds of goblin flesh. With every passing second, more rattmen darted out of the shadows. Unlike the rattmen at the front, the ones at the back were all shorter, had more hunched backs and were more malnourished, probably belonging to the rattmen’s lower classes.

Regardless, the rattmen’s self-serving nature persisted as they shoved aside and stampeded over their kin in their attempt to get their share of goblin flesh, not even stopping once to help the injured. With just their bare hands and fangs, they quite literally tore apart whatever piece of meat they could lay their hands on before consuming it entirely.

Of course, Kyat and Hasan were the ones at the forefront who enjoyed and consumed the most food. In truth, Walter himself didn’t know whether he should be impressed or shocked.

The ravenous manner in which the rattmen devoured their meals was beyond even what he expected. Within mere minutes, nearly half of all the goblin flesh was gobbled up by the rattmen, yet they still aren’t relenting. From beside him, Walter heard Thyvin verbally exclaim his awe.

“T-this… this is incredible… ehem.”

Thyvin coughed before he expressed his concerns in a more clear tone.

“But how are we going to sustain feeding them? What we gave them was roughly a third of the goblin flesh that we stocked up over the past few weeks and look how fast they ate it!”

“The answer to that is simple.”

The necromancer’s eyebrows rose up slightly in confusion when he heard Walter’s reply.

“Simple?”

“Yes. We just get them to feed themselves.”

Walter answered Thyvin’s single worded question in a matter of fact way before he proceeded to explain his plans.

“We will relocate all Project Green Thumb operations to this mine. Not only will this eliminate the need to transport the ‘rattmen feed’ but it will also mean that we can utilise the rattmen in the meantime. They are naturally attuned to life underground and they have spent their entire lives confined to this abandoned mine.”

Turning his eyes away from Thyvin, Walter gazed at the rattmen who were still incessantly indulging themselves in their feast while he continued to explain his newly developed plans.

“The rattmen can pinpoint the dank areas of the mine as well as safely excavate and expand those areas to create more space for more greenskin fungal pods. Unlike the artificial goblin caves, we don’t have to worry about the location of the greenskin fungal spores looking ‘natural,’ not when it will instead appear as part of the rattmen’s scheme.”

He paused for a short moment to let what he said sink in and returned his gaze back towards Thyvin before he concluded his words.

“These enlarged ‘super breeding grounds’ can then produce goblins at an increased, extraordinary rate. There is even a chance that the production output of just one of these breeding grounds alone can place the combined output of the seven artificial goblin caves to shame.”

“I see.”

Thyvin nodded first to display his approval of Walter’s plans before he put up a point of concern.

“But what about those seven artificial caves?”

Already expecting that question, Walter thus already had an answer prepared in advance.

“We’ll leave them as is. Worst case scenario is that they’ll be destroyed by random adventurers, this won’t doesn’t affect our new operation in the slightest once we successfully relocated to the abandoned mine. Best case scenario is that the goblin threat becomes too much of a nuisance to be ignored that it will force them to personally take care of it.”

Walter shrugged slightly as he made a comment about his own predictions.

“While I doubt that a bunch of measly goblins will stand up to those Frankonian knights, the time they will buy us as well as the corresponding discord they may sow, however little it actually is, is still appreciated.”

Thyvin didn’t say anything in response to Walter’s words, he only nodded silently. But Walter ignored that as he fell into self-contemplation. Super breeding grounds wasn’t the only reason that he ‘employed’ the rattmen. Now that he has them under his control, he can now resume the sale of goblin hides in earnest.

No.

Not just in earnest.

If the rattmen’s speed and stealth was truly as prodigious as history claimed, then the profits made from his sales will reach new unprecedented heights.

…

Not long after all the goblin flesh was depleted and Walter left the cave with his accompanying entourage, including a few rattmen, the remaining rattmen immediately set out to complete the first few tasks given to them. Both of them included the lowest of the low rattmen, the ‘slavelings’ toiling away at the mine’s stone hard walls with their old, rusty pickaxes.

“Work-work f-faster!”

The cracks of whips echoed within the mine as rattmen taskmasters lashed ‘underperforming’ slavelings. It wasn’t a rare sight to see a rattman slaveling collapse every minute or so due to exhaustion. Nonetheless, the slavelings endured the pain and continued onwards, already having accepted their damned and thankless existence.

No matter what state the rattmen species is in, whether it be the pathetic state it is in now or the glory days of old when their great empire once contended with the elves, rattman society was always ran by slave labour. In a similar albeit more brutal manner to peasants from human nations, slavelings are responsible for all menial tasks such as the provision of food.

And said provision of food isn’t limited to the cultivation of crops or hunting. It also included becoming the food.

“Gnaauuaahhhhhhh!”

From a raised platform, Kyat Pestylen witnessed another mob of slavelings pounce on a collapsed slaveling before they ravenously ate whatever part of him they could grab hold of. They didn’t even have the decency to grant the slaveling a quick death as they allowed him to remain alive and conscious during the entire process.

All the while, a few taskmasters watched from above and allowed them to eat the collapsed rattman for about a dozen seconds before the whipping started again. After all, what use is an inept slaveling except to be used as fodder for more capable rattmen? Kyat himself was no stranger to ‘cannibalism.’

However, that may soon change. If Walter Faust’s claims were correct, then the implementation of his plans may solve the food problem that had plagued Clan Primis for so long. In truth, Kyat held no love for the man-thing, but the fact that Walter seemed to be invulnerable to harm had dissuaded Kyat from rebelling.

Kyat believed that it was preferable to accept Walter’s gifts in return for completing the menial task set out by the man-thing.

At least for now anyway.

...

Elsewhere, within another cavern similar to but different from the abandoned mines, there stood a lone woman with her arms crossed and eyes closed.

“Huuuaahhhh!”

“Guahahahaha! Bring it on scum!”

Or at least, she would have been alone if it was any other day.

Damn them! They’ve been sparring for hours and yet they haven’t even stopped for a respite!

Opening her eyes, the woman saw two men engaged in a duel. They were clad head to toe in heavy plate armour which was dark crimson red in colour. Multiple pointed spikes protruded out of their pauldrons while a black furry scarf was wrapped around their neck. Unlike the plate armour worn by conventional knights, the plates of these warriors’ armour were several times thicker.

Common sense would dictate that their armour was too unwieldy to be used effectively in battle. Common sense was also wrong.

With the same level of grace and elegance as any typical knight, those two warriors engaged in an ‘elegant’ sword fight. The only difference was that their attacks and blocks were visibly and audibly more intense. With each blocked parry or strike that made its mark, the loud clunk of steel clashing against steel echoed within the cavern chamber.

And those clanks made it all the more harder for Evanescence to meditate.

Staring at the two idiots whose skulls were probably thicker than their brains, she was tempted to kill them both. But before she could convince herself to fulfil her murderous desires, a supplicant approached her with a message.

“Evanescence. One of our agents has returned from Belmud. He reports that the Frankonian Knights have arrived. According to him, their leader is none other than Arielle Vyatch.”

She only glanced at the two duelling warriors and then shrugged before she responded.

“This changes nothing. They only arrived to add to the body count.”