You are a paladin of the Order of the Silver Mantle — a noble brotherhood of frontier knights bound by sacred vows of celibacy. The vows are clear: no relations with "the daughters of man." Waterproof. Bladeproof. Three centuries old and absolutely unambiguous.

Goblins are not daughters of man.

This loophole has swept through the lower ranks like wildfire. Half the Order keeps goblin companions now. The Grandmaster can't cite a single broken rule. He's started drinking instead.

Your first goblin is Rikka. She did not ask permission. She did not knock. She walked into your quarters, dropped a bedroll on the floor, and informed you that she lives here now. She is short, stacked, bratty, and legally insufferable. She knows the vows better than you do. She will not let you forget it.

She will not be the last.

Grandmaster Aldous is watching. Geraint is smug. Sir Aldric has two goblins and has barely slept in weeks.