Chapter 90: Unprecedented Arrival
Approaching the public house shows Kaldren's affinity for fitting in, as the doorway is too small for me to enter without bending over. Yet his short stature proves convenient, as the doorway appears purpose-built for dwarven height.
The room quietens as we enter, a common occurrence in any town, bringing a spark of familiarity to the unfamiliar setting. Tables and benches are arranged neatly, differing in size from suitable for goblins to half-giants, while allowing access for all seating and the possibility of waitresses bringing out orders. Most patronage in the establishment appears to be locals, with only three outsiders enjoying the hospitality. As we look around, a young goblin rushes to us, grabbing Kaldren's hand and dragging him to a mostly empty bench, with ample room for my tail behind it.
As I follow suit, we sit, ready to-
"What do you want? We got stew, roast, booze, bread-"
The menu appears to be glowing by the moment as the young hostess rattles off a lengthy list of options, several of which I have never heard of. We do need to proceed with caution as our coffers do not weigh much. Bringing up the topic of pricing appears to confuse the goblin for a moment before she states, as a matter of fact, that we do not need to pay when we work to help rebuild.
With that in mind, I order two roasts and an ale as I have the impression that these small beings do not eat as much as I often do.
"Boss! Two roasts and an ale for a biggie! And what about you?"
"Now, y'know I'm a dwarf. Means I know stew. So I wanna try yer stew an' see if it's up 't'snuff."
"Oh yeah?! Well, we have the best stew in town, so you'd better be ready for something great!"
Rather than shout, she disappears into the kitchen, leaving Kaldren without an order of ale, much to his chagrin. And my amusement.
Moments later, the goblin returns clutching a mug a quarter of her size in her arms, appearing to have very little difficulty managing the heavy drink.
"Y'get a full stein?! Oi! I wanna order an ale too!"
"Is a stein not made of carved stone?"
"Bah! Y'can argue details when yer drinkin', an' I ain't drinkin' yet! 'Sides, wooden stein holds ale just as well."
With my stein handed over, our hostess runs off once more to fetch Kaldren's ale. With a taste of the brew presented, I must admit that I am surprised by the quality. The taste of alcohol is pervasive, yet the flavor is as plentiful as it is delightful, though I cannot identify the flavors.
"What's got yer face all scrunched up, Nenny?"
"Have a taste. It is not as the human taverns sell."
With a firm grip, he lifts the stein and takes a swig. The response of widening eyes and bright joy on his face makes it clear that he quite enjoys it. His continued drinking of my ale also helps solidify his enjoyment...
Slamming the now-empty stein onto the table, he exhales loudly and bursts into laughter.
"'Tis a stout, Nenny! They got proper soft drinks brewin'!"
Dwarven constitution is frightening for that to be considered soft... As our hostess returns with another stein, Kaldren is quick to accept it and take a swig, leaving me without drink.
"That was fast! You want another one, dragon lady?"
"I would, thank you."
"If you get drunk and break something, you have to pay for it!"
Her warning comes half-yelled as she disappears into the back again. The industrious little being works faster than anyone in a human settlement that I have met as she places the third stein onto our table, with a group of six goblins bringing out a roasted boar... It occurs to me that I may have underestimated the generosity of these new friends...
Before she disappears, I call out, asking her to cancel the second order as I underestimated the serving size. Explaining that I assumed the sizes would be fit for shorter people earns me a confused stare.
"Of course you get more, you're big and biggies eat more!"
"Do y'count me as big as well?"
"Sure, if you want."
A smile from Kaldren appears to be all the confirmation she needs that he does, in fact, want a biggie serving size.
Carving into the roasted boar sat in front of me proves quite easy, implying a skillful chef on hand. The fragrance of a wide variety of spices has me salivating, and the first taste floods my mouth with flavor. Carving another piece for Kaldren, he gives it a taste, yielding a similar result to my own. Though with the addition of difficulties sitting still.
"I want me stew! They're usin' spices proper, Nenny! They know proper flavor!"
Having been determined a biggie as well, the hostess, along with an aide, brings out a pot of stew, cutting the last restraint Kaldren had. Standing up on his bench, he watches the approaching food with an intensity I have not often witnessed.
Showing his fierce determination, Kaldren walks to the end of the bench, accepting the pot of stew and bringing it to his seat. Rather than use the supplied spoon, he takes the ladle and begins consuming the vast quantity of food. Judging by his ferocious greed on display, he will not be regretting this order. Taking his spoon, I commit a minor case of culinary theft, which proves his enthusiasm justified. Though it has a heavy presence of vegetables, making it less desirable for one such as I, my preference stays on the roasted boar.
Choosing not to ponder the insurmountable feast, we bring our discussion to matters of trade as I inform Kaldren of Gidia's dealings, the lack of a smelting fee, as well as our percentages taken.
"Yer sure we won't be pissin' off a dragon, takin' such a deal, Nenny? No smelter's fee tends t'mean yer gettin' gouged fer labor an' opportunity cost."
"I believe us to be quite safe. It is my impression that Gidia gouged the smiths in our favor. Though the five percent fee she charges is steep, I believe us to be in for a tidy profit once we sell the products. Has a decision been made on whether we will be heading for Arrenfret, Esfjord, or the Fronlines?"
"Frontlines'll buy it all, worst price, but good fer 'em t'get stock. Arrenfret's least likely t'buy it all, good price, an' Esfjord'll 'ave decent prices, good demand, an' can sell it on t'others. I'm thinkin' Frontlines might be th'way t'go."
I do believe our chosen path is to aid the living, as such, I am in agreement with Kaldren's thoughts, as the Frontlines safeguard us against the dead king's forces. The annual siege is upon us as we head into winter, though the trek south will be long and arduous.
As we talk on the matter, the topic of supplies comes up as well, though we ought to be capable of managing with those we have stocked already. Some hunting and foraging will be necessary, a task which Kaldren believes us to be quite capable of.
I am much less capable of consuming such a large meal, and though I've given it my best effort, I fear I must leave quite a sizable amount of boar uneaten. As I wave at our hostess, she rushes over, inquiring about our needs. My concerns of waste are washed away by an enthusiastic goblin calling out for others to collect the leftovers. Moments later, the rest of the boar is carried away by the same six goblins, to be offered for those who wish to add it to their own home cooking.
Kaldren does not appear to share my limitations, as his continued diving into the pond of stew shows no signs of stopping. How such a small body can contain such a vast quantity of food I cannot fathom. The joy on his face at the pleasure of a well-cooked meal makes it clear that he is proud of the goblin cuisine and its seemingly expert utilization of spices and produce.
With a growing cultural influence, as well as specialty goods such as Dragon's Gold, it is possible for Tuiran to become an important city for the region. Their growth will be fraught with danger as those bound by old sentiments can be expected to stand in the way of these newcomers. I believe the expansion of roads will not only please their Guardian Dragon, but it is an expansion of trade as well.
"Kaldren, are you aware of their plans for the discarded construction materials?"
"Aye. Wheelin' 'em tae Oakhold. Lord Wreyn's got plans tae grow his town an' he got the folk fer it now."
"And do they not wish to part with these strengthened stones?"
"Clay bricks, not stones. An' they did. Told me too many of 'em in one place drains the magic and causes fires. Though they don' need more than a few t'keep warm in winter. Could do wit' a master brickmaker t'blow th'billows o' craftin'."
The enthusiasm of Kaldren bolsters him against the weariness of the day, yet it is not enough to combat the urge to yawn.
"Kaldren, Lord-"
"Aye, aye. Lord Faran teaches that y'must keep yer mind rested to keep yer body safe. I'm outta stew, y'wanna head back?"
Returning to our temporary domicile does sound appealing as the night grows mature. Inquiring once more as to whether we must pay leads to a declaration that our host likes us for being honest as she ushers us out the door.
The expected cold air does not appear as we step into the night; rather, the town is eerily warm for so late in the season. I do not doubt this is because of their Guardian Dragon, and I am curious to learn more of what oddities will befall Tuiran as a result of their guardian's presence. Among humans, Dragons are often considered monstrous beasts.
"Kaldren, do you believe us to be evil?"
"Gods ain't struck me down fer bein' a mean bastard yet, so I don't think we're too far gone. How come yer thinkin' 'bout that?"
"Goblin-forged silver burns us."
"Aye, makes sense. T'is why mean bastards ain't forgin' silver back in Irathmar's Forge. Old timer's pissed 'bout overpayin' fer ale and y'got silver burnin' barkeeps. Y'gotta 'ave a clean slate fer forgin' silver. Same as Moonsilver. Grudges don't go well with channel metals."
I do hope our relationship with Tuiran has not been irredeemably tainted by the errors of our past. Though it may be overly generous to refer to it as the past, considering the small amount of time that has passed since the events transpired.
"Put it outta yer head, Nenny. Y'can't change it, but ya can work t'make our futures better. T'is like the old sayin', y'can't erase a grudge carved into a stone tablet, but y'can carve the tablet into a sculpture."
We reach Joras' shop as I ponder the meaning of another dwarven saying, but I do not understand why he would carve a grudge into a tablet in the first place. I do wish for our relationship with Tuiran to molt, discarding the old wounds for fresh scales, so that we may overcome our differences.
As I attempt to knock, Kaldren grips the handle and opens the door without an invitation, but as I object to such rudeness, I'm met with shushing as he informs me that Joras and Lily will be sleeping and we must try to be quiet. Which makes more sense than I care to admit, as I had not considered it...
The impact of my talons can be heard even as I try to soften my steps. Given that I cannot help it, we simply continue upstairs and take our rest for the night. I find myself envious of Kaldren's short stature as my feet dangle from the edge of the bed, while he has a surplus of space.
Sleep soon comes, letting worries and fears drift away.
--------
As daylight flashes through the window, a knock on my door draws my attention. Moments later, Lily opens the door, a plate of food ready as she hands it to me. The scent is delectable, and as I taste it, the flavor proves to match the scent.
"I apologize, Nenka, I am not familiar with scalefolk customs or habits. Is it normal for your kind to rest for a full day?"
"Indeed. Though it is a seasonal aspect of our being."
Unable to stifle a yawn, I explain our affinity for rest come winter as food becomes scarce. Some, such as myself, struggle to regulate our need for winter rest, yet others manage to avoid it in its entirety as food is readily available. The implication of her words dawn on me as the day has... I have once more missed a full day of exploration. I trust that Kaldren will inform me of the events he has encountered.
With the mention of Kaldren, Lily informs me that today he is waiting downstairs, insisting that he be here for my awakening, as he is familiar with my habits. Standing up and getting dressed sparks heavy footfalls downstairs, and soon I hear Kaldren yell a hearty greeting for me.
Unfastening the ties along the side of my pants allows me to quickly put them on, so that my talons do not tear them apart. It takes more work than what humans and elves experience, but I would trade my talons only for a few things. Fastening the ties and putting on a loose shirt is all I require to be ready for the day.
Lily's expression betrays her as she stares at my morning routine with curiosity, yet I shan't reveal my secrets until asked.
A couple of steps toward her jolts her into movement as she breaks from her spell of interest in favor of leading me to the stairs where Kaldren is waiting, boards in hand and a wide grin as he sees me.
Before we reach the ground floor, the door swings open with an excited male goblin calling for Joras. A mighty sigh from the back room makes it clear that he heard, as he soon appears to discuss the urgent matter. The goblin rattles off several topics, such as asking for help with trading, how to deal with a rowdy adventurer, and, curiously, a mage claiming to know their Guardian Dragon.
"Ask Turo about the trading, send the mage to the foolish adventurer, and I'll be there as soon as I can."
Wishing to be helpful, I offer to escort the goblin back to ensure that he remains safe. He appears unsure of whether to accept, commenting that the protection of the Guardian Dragon will keep him safe, though Joras interjects, telling him that it is I who is in need of escort. With the suggestion changed from me offering protection to him offering guidance, he quickly accepts, motioning for me to follow as he departs the shop.
Turning to Kaldren, I ask if he wishes to join us, but he appears to have plans of his own, and his face lighting up with enthusiastic interest tells me that he is struggling to wait around for me. As I bow my acknowledgment, he rushes out the door to meet whichever plans he may have.
It appears I do not have the time to ponder Kaldren's day as the energetic goblin calls out to me as he grows impatient. Bidding Lily and Joras farewell, I take my leave as well, taking quick steps to catch up to the small folk.
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Distinguishing my guide from those around me becomes increasingly difficult as the streets become crowded with those who prefer their days to start early. Notably, the glowing fungus used as lights maintains a brightness even now, though they ought to limit such luminescence to nighttime. I believe the ambient magic has influenced them to become more productive.
Calling out for my guide to wait, I approach a row of fungus decorating the side of a building. A closer look reveals it to be primarily mundane in nature, but that appears to be changing. Extending my magical senses, I prod at the fungus, exciting it to empower its glow, and a measurable change in the surrounding magic can be felt.
It is known that magic becomes self-insulating through its affinity, leading to difficulties for those both gifted in accumulation and those struggling with the same. Both cases result in a need to learn greater control beyond what is required of a typical mage. Though there is no restriction on learning greater control for any such mage, it is an oft-overlooked aspect in the schools of magic.
Drawing upon my own reserves, I shape and fold the magic into a boon of recovery, casting it upon the fungal growth. The glow changes from a soft yellow to a bright green as the fungus consumes my spell affecting it. While I am unsure of what type of fungus this is, I do not believe it to be harmful, as it appears satisfied with simply consuming the ambient magic provided.
A pull on my pant leg forces my attention toward a goblin standing next to me, eyes bright with excitement and fascination.
"Can you do that to my glowshroom too?"
"Of course. But I cannot promise that it will last, so rather than performing the spell for you, should I not attempt to teach you?"
The offer soon attracts a gathering as others ask to be taught as well. I am not familiar with the nature of goblin spellcasting, yet my own is more bestial than that of humanity, which I believe may mean that they should be able to learn it.
Though they lack height, the growing crowd of those interested in magic, seventeen so far, becomes intimidating in its own right. These may be friendly goblins, but I cannot help but feel that I am in danger being surrounded by dozens of the friendly people. A prejudice I must overcome.
To ascertain whether these people hold the potential, I must feel their magic. Placing a hand upon the shoulder of the tugger of pants, I draw upon my reserves once more and fold the magic into a boon of influence. A simple spell allowing the caster to affect the mood of those targeted in mild ways, as Lord Faran does not allow the true influence of mind or soul.
The secrets revealed show that this is a goblin no more. They are becoming another being of magic and mundane, where goblins are more mundane than even humans. Gazing upon her soul, I see that it shimmers with a bright will to live and a strength often only seen in those with exceptional talent. The implication of which is that their belief in their Guardian Dragon rivals that of a true believer in the Pantheon.
Repeating the spell on others near us reveals the same to be true to varying degrees. And upon further inspection, the secret to their energetic attitudes becomes clear: they are drawing upon the ambient magic to bolster themselves.
I wish to ask whether they're aware, but I fear I might step on a basilisk's tail and cause unwanted distress should I do so.
"Don't I have magic, too? Is that why you look worried?"
"Oh, my apologies. You are capable of becoming a talented mage as well, I merely thought worrying thoughts."
"Like what?"
"Whether you are aware that you are becoming something other than a goblin, I do not know for certain, so I do not wish to speculate further. It would be wise to consult an expert on the matter, as it could have a profound impact on your futures."
Deciding to reveal my worries held further worries of how they would handle it, but I had not expected excitement and one-upmanship to be the paths taken. Most within the gathering begin bickering about what they might become, sharing a sense of excitement as their scaled clansmen show an advanced degree of change. Most of the blessed would fear such change, as it would mean not being the species of origin to which they once belonged, and, as such, would no longer be eligible for their blessing.
The consensus appears to be that they are becoming half-dragons, as their Dragonbringer is, which brings a sense of pride and satisfaction to the group. Though not all have forgotten about my offer of magical tutelage, I feel another tug on my pants.
Worried thoughts strike my mind as I face the goblin looking up at me. She appears worried as well, leading me to believe that she does not wish to face the change that others welcome.
"Can I still learn your magic? I want green lights."
I appear to have misinterpreted her worries...
"I cannot make any such guarantees, but I am hopeful that you can. First, you must sense your inner reserves of magic and describe them to me."
As she closes her eyes, I form yet another spell, sending it into her as I follow her senses and guide her toward her reserves. She finds them handily, drawing upon them as if instinctual before declaring success.
With the magic held, I offer instructions, guiding her as she forms and folds the magic into the shape of recovery while showing her the infusion of intent. Where human magic relies on words of power, my own Shae magic is borne by my soul's will.
Though the shape of her magic is wobbly and unfocused, it does qualify as a spell. With a request for a blade, a goblin hands me one without hesitation and, using the sharp tip, I poke the soft interior of my palm, causing a small bleed.
Guiding my student with words of encouragement, she continues her spell, bringing it into the realm of the mundane and unleashing it upon my palm. The bleeding stops, but the healing is incomplete. A truly fine beginning. Though I must admit that I do not understand goblin culture as she draws a knife and slices it across her friend's palm, only to repeatedly cast the boon of recovery in order to undo the damage caused.
Soon, explanations fly as the gathering divides itself into small groups, with the goblin I've shown the spell teaching the others, leaving me with not a task but to observe.
The natural curiosity of the goblins appears to favor their ability to learn, as it takes no more than half a bell for the gathering of now twenty-three goblins to have learned a crude form of the boon of recovery. Should they gain a skilled mage to dedicate their time to teaching the goblins, there would soon be no need for the Guardian Dragon to protect these adorably excitable goblins.
Watching them advance their craft fills me with joy as they continue casting their boons with a seemingly inexhaustible reserve of magical energy. It is not impossible for this town to become a nexus of magical scholarly pursuits with such raw potential.
Offering to teach them another boon is received with boisterous joy as they abandon the previous busy work of improving their familiarity with the boon of recovery.
Attempting to ascertain their general affinity, I create a minor boon of strength, explaining it as I shape the magic. It would take a talented novice to learn the spell from such simplistic instructions. Yet the goblins remain undeterred as they shape magic into unfamiliar forms, incapable of maintaining their integrity as the magic dissipates into the air.
In a mere two bells, several of these curious beings have mastered a rudimentary form of the boon of strength, allowing them to empower their allies. Those first to learn rush to teach others, spreading the knowledge in a spree of selflessness, ensuring that those who stagger behind are brought along. Witnessing them learn together brings back memories of my home as we share many of those qualities.
As I begin a third spell for the crowd to learn, a messenger arrives searching for adventurers. Hearing talk of a Dragon lady brought him to me as, in his words, 'why wouldn't you protect people if you're a Dragon?' Though that joy is dampened somewhat as I inquire about his seeing adventurers as protectors.
"No, but we need someone to help with an adventurer and that's what dragons do!"
I do hope we might change that perception in time. For now, I shall join him to meet this unknown adventurer causing a ruckus. Rushing through the late-day streets as clouds loom overhead, threatening to wash away the grime of the day, leads us to a man dressed in finery, surrounded by guards wielding their weapons at the ready.
"I told you, my name is Lurram and I am an acquaintance of Kira, the Dragon roosting in this region! Please, lower your weapons."
"It would seem they doubt your story, earthen mage. Perhaps sharing details of your acquaintanceship might assist in their journey to understanding. Upon which land did you meet the Guardian Dragon?"
"Near the Serpent's Weald, I assisted her in acquiring a component necessary to aid her friend."
"The Guardian Dragon is resourceful, and the locals continue to doubt you. It is possible that you speak truly, but it is equally possible that it is a falsehood."
Scenting the air, his worries and fears taste genuine, lacking the tang of falsehood as he thinks on how to settle this matter. A grimace of frustration graces his features as he provides another answer.
"She calls me Lunch..."
Though I'm left confused, the goblins appear to believe his tale, declaring him Dragon-named. Lunch is quick to ask them to refer to his being as Lurram, yet the success of his request leaves much to be desired as the goblins remark on how his pride should shine at being given a name.
With the earthen Lunch now considered an ally of the Guardian Dragon, the goblins rush to ask what he's capable of. A few demonstrations and a prideful grin as he shapes the soil beneath our feet earn the applause he seeks. Though accompanying it is a series of requests for work to be completed as they usher him away. I have no doubt in my mind that he will soon find his status means little as the goblins put him to work.
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Several others of the guild would join the ranks of those put to work by the goblins as they visited over the coming days. Most found it difficult to reconcile the goblins' friendly demeanor and short stature with the fact that most of them were adults, leaving a misunderstanding among some that the requests for help were made by children, which cannot be refused.
With a more skilled workforce of larger people, the pace at which construction continued flowed much like a raging river, leaving few gaps for wasted efforts. Dwarven visitors, Kaldren included, found the makeshift construction offensive as they worked to correct the mistakes made by goblins and humans alike. Many buildings dug into the ground would find themselves reinforced by wooden beams under the dwarven guidance, offering greatly reduced risk of collapse.
The housing would be further strengthened as they unleashed the crazed enchantress upon the town. Lily would rush between buildings, carving sigils and runes as if her life depended on it. She would be easy to find as her maniacal cackles could be heard from a distance whenever she was not muffled by clay walls.
As the amount of enchantments grew, there was a tangible difference in the feel of ambient magic. Though it was not without issue, as the first handful of carvings needed to be adjusted for the potency of the magic surrounding us. An obstacle she handily removed through ages of experience.
Radiant power emanated from the buildings covered by the crazed enchantress, though they would dull in strength as the magic settled. Being near such power brought fascination and fear to the mages of the Guild visiting. The shared conclusion of the profound skill necessary was unavailable to the short-lived species, as they struggled to decipher the meaning of the runes themselves.
Certain dwarven inspectors found themselves capable of reading the runes, but dismissed them as elven nonsense as they read the words aloud. Though I do not understand the gibberish, the dwarves did answer as I asked for the words to be read to me.
"T'is an old language from a terrible place... 'Bränn inte den älskades hem med lågor, när det är fienden som bär glöden.' Elves of below once spoke such gibberish, but it's used fer runecraft now, not talkin'. Ain't a difficult language, just forgotten an' rife with pitfalls."
His explanation soon turned to insults as he rekindled the embers of his anger at the disregard for customs as Lily carved many such sentences into the houses. Her material cost fell upon the shoulders of Jarna and Knotten as the metals they forged were spirited away whenever Lily made a request for more.
The dwarven council of bickering soon found itself occupied with other matters as the days progressed. The goblins, always eager to learn more, were told that the dwarves would share their old knowledge if they were offered ale and a listening ear. Concluding that their ears were big and great for listening, casks of ale were brought to the council as they shared dwarven construction methods for hewing wood and carving stone. One even took it upon himself to teach a goblin rudimentary dwarven runecrafting, 'instead of that elven nonsense.'
The pride of a craftsman always has two sides. The pride of the work and the pride of experience. Both call for the craftsman to show off to those willing to appreciate the effort put forth.
For my own efforts, I could not escape the swarm of goblins asking to be taught more boons. The Shae magic I have been taught is undesirable to others of the Guild to learn, as the supportive nature does not appeal to those wishing to be strong, rather than to strengthen others. A notion seeming almost foreign to the goblins as they focused more on the strength of their group, exclaiming that if they could empower their friend, then they wouldn't lose their friend on a hunt or in a fight.
As such, my days were spent teaching what I considered acceptable without offering the true secrets of my clan. Many of the Guild settled into routines of teaching within the first day of arrival as the goblins grew to not fear us as they once had.
Almost a week passed since Kaldren and I had arrived in Tuiran. We were awoken by a loud knocking as a group of goblins sought Joras to help with a potential mess. The Guardian Dragon had returned in the night and brought with her many strangers, though one had become belligerent as they landed.
Kaldren and I agreed that we ought to join Joras as he rushed to get dressed, leading us to do the same. Having little time, I chose not to use the stairs, opting instead for the window as I leapt through, landing on the street below with my dress billowing in the night wind.
I have grown familiar with the streets in these past days and know the path to the square, where they had mentioned the Guardian Dragon landing. In short order, I arrived to see the Dragon's entourage dismount as they stretched, shaking their rider's legs away. Though the dwarf appeared much more concerned with the notion of the Dragon's Hoard being present within the city. His rant soon became no more than guttural growls of frustration, leading an increasingly frustrated Dragon to cast her gaze upon him.
Though she appeared calm, the threat in her voice was apparent to all as she spoke.
"Enough, Foreman. Explain what the problem is instead of yelling like an upset child."
Her patience wearing thin was evident in the soft growls accompanying her words as she spoke. The adventurers present were on edge, yet the goblins appeared to not mind at all, focusing instead on the foreman as the Dragon did, rather than fear a burst of anger from the... She was much bigger than I remembered.
With a stare of frustration, the foreman brought his emotions into order as he explained the issue. It would seem that Kaldren and I were correct. The goblins will cease to be in a handful of generations, replaced by their own offspring laid as eggs to become kobolds. The revelation was expected to bring worry and fear, but the goblins rejoiced at the promise of strong children blessed by the Dragon.
It would not stop there. The raw magic, described as unwarded magic by the foreman, would infuse all life within the Dragon's territory, though goblins were especially susceptible as they so often lacked magic of their own. What I felt as I saw the soul of a goblin change was an addition to what they were, not a replacement. They were becoming more, and I found myself looking forward to witnessing it.
The foreman did not share my excitement as he brought up fears of what they could become, the dangerous nature of kobolds and their affinity for growing beyond containable limits as they were left to their own devices.
Though the Dragon dismissed it, as she did not see it as an issue, the foreman objected, saying that many were in danger as the threat of a kobold infestation grew and the potential for war that it held.
"What's worse, Foreman? A group of curious kobolds or me, if my people are hurt? You can either keep antagonizing me or help me build a safe home for these new friends of yours."
His stiff shoulders soon softened as he pondered the prospect of what she was saying. We were the masters of our own destiny. Would we make an enemy of her or an ally? I would sooner make an enemy of the Guild than these innocent beings, and I believe Lord Faran would agree with my stance.
"Fine... I'll see what y'got planned fer yer army o' scaled ones... Show me tae th' forge before I go an' make a fool o' meself again."
"Thank you. It's right over there. Now, more importantly, Turo, do I still get paid my tribute, or am I being replaced by the guards? They seem strong enough to do it, but I still want to be the guardian dragon."
Ever helpful, the foreman soon found himself approached by goblins ready to lead him to the smithy. The town elder did not hesitate to reassure the Dragon that she would not be replaced as he saw her as a trivial investment compared to the gain, leading to her bringing her head close to his in a threatening manner.
"Does that mean I can be paid more?"
"Half a gold more."
"Heck yeah! Raya! Lauren! I got a raise! We need to celebrate tomorrow!"
With her spirits raised, the Guardian Dragon turned to leave for her den. With her guests in tow, she departed the square, though what a curious collection of beings they were. A cleric of a Goddess, a goblin changed by magic, a cat person of unknown renown, and what appeared to be a human clad in armor, face covered by the mask of a bird.
Soon the square was silent in the night, most returning to their domicile for the rest of the night as the rushed celebration promised to be sizable, should the words of passing goblins be trusted. And I saw no reason for them not to be, though I could not foresee the scale at which such a celebration would occur.
Returning to Joras' shop offered no distractions as I entered our room to find Kaldren fast asleep. Choosing to join him in slumber, I took to my bed and soon fell asleep.
-----
Upon waking up, the sounds of merriment can be heard from afar, and the promise of joy for all brightens my soul. Departing our room once more, soon to be the last time as our trade goods would soon be completed, I chose loose-fitting clothes in the form of a dress again.
Reaching a straight road allows me to gaze into the distance, spotting the towering Dragon watching over the town as she offers an imposing view, forcing those of ill repute to reconsider their intentions. Though more important than that is the pervasive scent of a veritable feast at the square.
With Kaldren at my back, we rush to see the celebrations as planned by goblins in a day. The journey is short, leaving much of the day for us to partake, but upon reaching the square, Kaldren soon finds himself enticed by the vast field of tents offering a trove of foodstuffs. His first target is a familiar hostess offering ale to those parched by the day's worries. Though I find it early to drink, Kaldren has no such compunction.
Leaving him to his desires as this offers an excellent rest day, I choose to approach the Dragon as I have yet to have such an opportunity, and I do not wish to miss it.
"Don't you fucking do it, Kira."
"Oh, I'm gonna do it. Dear Merciferus, it's food stall day and you're not invited! Neener! Take that, you goddess of overly shouty champions!"
A sense of dread fills me as the blasphemous words of the Guardian Dragon can be heard by all. I pray to Lord Faran that the Goddess does not offer attention to the Dragon, yet as the heavens part and the sun's light brightens the now cloudless sky, she descends. The Goddess of Health and Vitality herself has graced us with her presence, and she is smiling as her gaze locks onto the mischievous Dragon.
"Kira, I assume you know what this means."
"That you get to join us for a fun day!"
"Correct, but I must also punish you for your blasphemous ways."
With her wings keeping her in flight, the Goddess approaches the Guardian Dragon's face and in a mere blink, a deafening crash silences the town as the Dragon reels from the impact of a Goddess' open palm striking the skull of the Guardian.
"Geez! That freakin' hurt!... Worth it, though..."
The goblins are quick to resume their festivities, yet the adventurers and traders present find themselves at a loss for words and action as we have just witnessed the summoning of a God by one who could become an enemy of the Guild.
Descending onto the ground, the Goddess Merciferus approaches the cleric to take her hand before asking which stall they should visit first. Seeming to pay no mind to the events transpiring around us, the cleric simply leads the Goddess into the crowd as they talk like old friends.
Unsure of how to deal with these revelations, I surrender myself to the joyous occasion, discarding the worries for the future to occupy itself with.