Chapter 9: Chapter 9. Never trust a Dwarf.

“You are not a native here, but I would be more than happy to assist you in some ways. You are also welcome to help clear out Dirt Dungeon to grow in strength, but right now, you are a juvenile, so I doubt you could face any monsters without losing your life. Technically, you are claiming guest’s privilege, but that’s not a concept common to most kobold nations. We only have it because we do have a bit of trade with some other tribes.” Carolinus mentioned as we approached a series of caves carved into the wall of the cavern, sort of like Anasazi or Mesa Verde, except that the windows and doorways tended to be cut round, and directly out of the rock itself rather than a lot of it being formed out of adobe.

Of course, kobolds had the ability to chop through solid stone like it was peanut butter. Why wouldn’t they make their homes in fancy caves instead of dwellings of wood and bricks? Wood was probably in scarce supply, although based on the amount of silver and copper that decorated many of the dwellings, the settlement would be a dream for a party of adventurers to raid.

Except for the warriors. Unlike the goblins, the craftsmanship of their armor and weapons were unquestionable, and they acted like they knew exactly how to use them. The most common armament seemed to be spears and bucklers plated with sheets of semiprecious stone in various artistic patterns, or slings among those who were dressed solely in thick leather of various, usually earthy colors.

The Majority of the large kobolds were not armed, however. Some wore aprons, either thick leather along with heavy gloves on their belt or cloth with blood, flour, or green stains on them. Others wore various signs of crafting expertise and tools on belts or pouches.

The smaller ones, however, tended to wear nothing other than belts with baskets occasionally. The smallest, of course, seemed to be kept out of sight or something, but I saw a large Kobold dressed in fancy leathers similar to Carolinus’ outfit leading a troop of smaller kobolds deeper down the river. Like the fungus collectors, they wore baskets, but there were two hunters and two warriors as well as a larger kobold with a sort of rikshaw behind them.

“Those are dungeon collectors,” Carolinus stated, noticing me watching them. “The Warriors and hunters will fight the ravagers, the hunters will track the meat-bearing monsters, and the cartbearer will collect the useful corpses.”

“What’s the group of adolescents with them doing?” I asked curiously.

“They pick up loot. Dirt Dungeon doesn’t have an affinity for finished items, but often, after a ravager fight, ore nodes or gems will form on the walls. We can use the blackmetal to make spear and arrow shafts, Crystals for heads, and silver, copper, and tin we trade to the duergar what we don’t use ourselves. Blackstone trades as well, but we have no use for it, and of course, blackwater and deathsilver we avoid. Eventually, the dungeon usually reabsorbs those, although some part of the dungeon is completely submerged in blackwater, which even Chaos beasts don’t survive. It was probably one of the things that Dirt used to control the spawns before we arrived.”

Blackmetal? I looked closely at Gus’ spear. Seriously? It was made out of Iron ore, unrefined. The spears must have weighed a ton. No wonder the guards looked like they spent time in the gym!

“Blackstone and blackwater. Can you set them on fire? Do they burn?” I asked curiously.

Carolinus nodded, “Yes, you have heard of them? We use little fire, except for melting copper and silver out of the rock. It trades better and weighs less. Blackstone fires are useful for that, but they destroy the flavor of food if you attempt to cook over them. We get a lot of it, and the Duergar will trade for it, but they offer a lot more for silver or copper that’s been melted out of the rocks.”

“What do they trade for it?”

He smiled, “Well, all sorts of useful things. Silver is the most valuable, we get copper weight-for-weight in firewood, which we use for cooking. Stone arrowheads, which don’t shatter as easily as crystal, and raw wool, which is two-for-one wool for silver. Two weights of silver for one weight of wool. We are even beginning to learn to cut gemstones, which generally aren’t worth much, but which the Duergar will accept weight-for-weight instead of copper, or instead of silver if we cut them correctly.” He reached into his pouch and pulled out a handful of cut and uncut stones.

“They are fairly decent for holding magic, which is why they are a great base for damage spells. I only knew that they were worth more than other pebbles because of my time as a familiar.” Carolinus stated.

The gemstones looked like a mix of Beryl and Corundum. That is to say, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, morganites, and a lot of in-between colors.

I only recognized them because one of my electives had been geology, and the book had been an interesting read. I had failed the course despite making straight A’s on all of the tests because I had more important things to do than gather rocks in the woods and write endless essays about tensile strength and plate tectonics, the teacher’s true interests. Vulcanology was an elective I had skipped because, unless you could afford a class trip to Hawaii, it was of little use.

“Do you ever get clear stones near blackstone or blackwater, like quartz?” I asked curiously.

He nodded, “Sure, all the time. They resist our claws, though, except for those that have specializations in stonecutting. The hunters usually use them for ammunition because they won't shatter if they miss as quartz pebbles do.”

I sighed and rubbed my crest.

“Something wrong?” Carolinus asked. “You are sapient. Young kobolds don’t gain sapience until they get to young adult. Sapients wear clothes. We are going to get you some clothes right now so no one mistakes you for a juvenile and puts you in one of the pens.”

“No, I was just thinking… What are Deurgar?”

Carolinus smiled a bit as he led me to one of the larger dwellings. “They are kind of like a cross between Dwarves and Gnomes. Shorter than Dwarves, but a lot bigger and stronger than Gnomes. Unlike dwarves and gnomes, they are traders, not crafters. They are neutral, but they will trade with anyone that doesn’t attack them. They are also lenders, but we have always had surplus junk from Dirt and never really had any need for loans.”

“Do they come into the dungeon?” I asked curiously.

He shook his head. “They don’t know about Dirt, or if they do, they don’t talk about it. They meet us at the top of the falls.” he waved his hand in the direction we had come. The place had a number of items that looked almost native American, as well as a trunk made of copper that he was rummaging through.

“So… umm… why don’t you use the tin and copper to make bronze? Or the iron and coal to make steel?”

“What’s steel?” he asked, holding up a long tunic, much simpler than his. I would swim in it, but it was clearly too small for him now. He handed it to me and I accepted it eagerly.

“You know, when you beat out Iron, add carbon to it, and it gets really hard and tough, and makes better weapons and armor than almost anything else?”

“I don’t know what Carbon is, but I know some people call blackmetal iron. It works well as it is, we never break spear shafts. Kobolds don’t get materials manipulation, generally, so making enchanted metals like Bronze is out of the question. Dirt has never been able to absorb gold, either, so we do not get that.”

“The Deurgar never offer gold?”

Carolinus nodded, “They have, but we can never afford it. Last time they offered a gold crown for a ton of silver, but that much silver would take us a year to gather, and we need the wool more. Dirt cannot make it, and even the small amounts of wood we can get are in the form of roots that take a lot of drying to make into tinder.”

I honestly didn’t have the slightest clue what to do. Should I tell them that the duergar were ripping them off abominably? They seemed to be doing well. If they started pressuring for real prices, the duergar might start wondering where they got their loot. It might even start a war with the dwarves, gnomes, or even humans. But at the same time, they were being insanely exploited. A ton of silver for a gold piece? Weight-for-weight exchanges of rubies for copper, firewood for copper? It was nuts.

That one’s easy. Don’t tell them.

Huh. I couldn’t really talk to Celia right now, so I thought really hard in words. Why not?

Celia? No.

And it’s very simple. Do. Not. Tell. Them.

Look, all over the world kobolds have three jobs. Food for bigger monsters, popcorn for adventurers, and someone for unethical traders to enslave for their mining abilities or exploit.

You are reading story The Chronicles of Alandia, A Kobold’s Tale. at novel35.com

You are an adventurer. Kobolds do not become adventurers, at least not until they evolve into something better, like a Troglodyte. You can’t stay there, and you cannot protect them if someone finds out they have something the other races want.

Yeah, those gray dwarves are exploiting them. Look at them, they are happy, healthy, and making a meaningful contribution to the world by clearing out a dungeon regularly. They are strong enough so that nothing casually messes with them, but weak enough that they aren’t a threat to anyone. The Duergar wants what they have, and can get it by giving them piles of cheap crap they need, instead of turning them all into slaves or raiding them occasionally and killing off half of them.

Deurgars are not ‘neutral traders’. They are crooks. Loan sharks and con artists, thieves, and raiders. They enslave other races, they almost never trade with anyone but the gnomes, who are almost as bad.

Leave them alone. They are happy with their trades. Do not tell them.

“Celia? Wait, who are you?” I thought.

No answer was forthcoming.

“Celia?” I said, out loud, and Carolinus looked at me curiously. “No, but the warriors might be able to cut down some chitin armor for you. It’s obviously not as protective as gem armor, but it’s much lighter and more protective than leather. I will ask our crafters if they can make some for you?” he asked.

I nodded, “I could use armor. I got hurt while I was fighting the goblins, and something a little harder than leather would probably help when I have to fight again.”

Carolinus looked surprised again. It was interesting, kobolds didn’t have very expressive faces, and I usually had huge problems determining emotional responses anyway, but I could easily detect his surprise. Maybe it was because, under the circumstances, I could completely understand his surprise.

“You took Goblins? Plural?”

I nodded, “Yes, in the Sindaenaway Sewers. Two of them.” I held up my knife, point down. “They were going to eat me, and I sort of surprised them.”

He nodded, “In that case, I suspect you are closer to an evolution than I thought. The Goblins in the sewers worship Nektuso, who tends to be a little more proactive than most. Generally, even with the garbage that they try to use as weapons and armor, More than one goblin is a match for one of our new warriors.”

“How do I choose a new evolution?” I asked.

“You will feel it in your head?” he said questioningly. “Sort of like when your evolution was forced.”

I shook my head, “I wasn’t there when my spirit was messed with. I have no idea what that felt like.”

He nodded, “Then you probably are not quite there yet. You will definitely feel it.” he shrugged and picked through some more clothes, finding a pair of loose wool pants. A full outfit of wool would probably be miserable for a human, but the tunic hanging down to my ankles was surprisingly comfortable, probably because of my thick skin and scales.

“I might have to forgo the pants until I can tighten it up with some armor or something, but thank you,” I said, unwinding my cord belt and then winding it again around the waist of the tunic, and rolling up my sleeves. At least I wasn’t falling out of the neck hole, which was stitched with a vertical slit in the front with a toggle loop to hold it tightly to a neck, which meant it was loose, but not too bad. “Is there someplace I could meditate for a while?”

He grinned, “Of course. A meal is in a few hours. Once you have meditated and eaten, we can talk about your gifts and spells, if you know what they are, and how else we can help each other?”

He led me farther back into the cave and then left, into a small room concealed by a leather flap for a door. “Meditation is very important to a spirit shaman. Do you need incense? A flasher or mirror? There are some cushions in that corner if you need them. If you were bound, you are not now… Dirt cuts bonds unless a master is with their familiar.”

I guess he assumed that as a former familiar I was automatically destined to become a shaman. I don’t know. Celia had mentioned channel, physical, mechanical, and imbue. Nothing about spirits or shamanism or anything like that. I mean, sure, I was cognizant, but that’s because Humans are awake and aware creatures from a very young age, not because someone had accelerated my brain. If anything, being in a place where I was so utterly ignorant made me feel less sapient than in an environment I understood. If there’s one thing autistics despise, it’s inconsistency or change.

I shook my head, “No thank you. I don’t meditate very well, it usually happens when I am fighting or being active.” This was not actually uncommon among autists. Pacing, dancing in place, and repeating actions endlessly is often the best way to clear your head and think clearly for a while, and if we get addicted to doing something, we can do it, talk about it, and think about it endlessly. It pisses people off because we don’t seem to know when to stop, and don’t recognize the signs that whoever our target is is getting bored. That’s why so many of us, myself included, try to cultivate silence about it.

He looked thoughtful, “You think better when you are moving?” he asked.

I nodded, “As far as I know, yes. Moving, dancing, Lifting heavy shit.” I was practically itching to tell this guy more about the benefits of lifting heavy shit and training martial arts, but I shut my mouth. That’s how you alienate people.

He looked thoughtful. “Odd. Most shamans tend towards indolence, but if you have a special gift that rewards activity instead of deep trances, would you like me to fetch you some heavy things?”

I shook my head, “No, I can just dance for a while. I would like to look at some stuff later, though, if that is alright.”

He nodded, gaping his mouth again in a kobold grin. “Dancing, that I understand. Some of our most powerful magics come from dancing. Please enjoy yourself.”

I nodded and started working my way up through a bunch of dances. Okay, I am not going to pretend that Capoeira is some brilliant secret martial arts shit. It isn’t. Krav Maga, kickboxing, karate, and even good old fashion boxing were often better for real fights.

Its strengths were the ability to deliver more damage in a heartbeat to an unsuspecting target than just about anything else, and to keep melee combatants far away and fight if your hands are bound. It was developed by slaves in Brazil as a way to train to catch guards and slave owners by surprise, and it looked like dancing… I am pretty sure the breakdancing of the eighties had its origin in Capoeira.

The problem is, while you can dance with others, you cannot really spar. You train the moves, practice, get super sweaty, and work on choreography, but the strikes are so designed to instantly smash people, like my tail strike did, that practicing real fighting full speed with another person was a surefire way to break ribs, smash bodies, and even stop hearts. Like Krav Maga, it was for displaying or killing, not sparring, and it really only worked against the untrained or those who were not expecting it.

I’d never use it against someone who had some martial training and recognized it because a lot of the moves can be scary or dangerous but left you wide open. I was betting that no one here on Antowyn had ever seen it, but I couldn’t be sure… Antowyn Online’s classes might just wade right through it, exploiting its weaknesses mechanically.

Most of the other fighting I knew was really meant for big, heavy guys… but that tail move, the accident? That was perfect for a low-slung creature like me. Most of my opponents would be too big to exploit its holes effectively.

When I started doing the dancing, working myself up to a fever, sliding on my hands, and spinning my legs, I realized that while I might not be as strong as some, I could do the moves about two and a half times faster. That might be helpful, and I started falling into the zone.

Gee Bran, whatta ya wanna do tonight?

I responded automatically, “The same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world!”

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