The citadel's war chamber still smelled faintly of fire-oil and cold steel. Leonhardt stepped in, his boots echoing on the black marble floor as the double doors swung closed behind him.
Two goblins waited within.
Gobomir stood at attention, his weathered plate armour polished to a deep bronze. His wolf sat quietly beside him, red eyes gleaming from the torchlight. Gobbolas lounged casually atop the long table, bow resting across his lap, a half-eaten fruit skewered on one of his arrows.
But both of them straightened the moment Leonhardt entered.
"My King!" Gobomir blurted, dropping to one knee so fast his shoulder plate clanged. "I am here to serve!"
"I told him to relax, because the King won't blame us. But he no listen."
Leonhardt stepped forward, arms crossed. "And you don't kneel?"
Gobbolas' grin widened. "I kneel in my heart, King! Yes. Very deep."
That earned him a side glance from Gobomir, who puffed up his chest proudly.
