Chapter 19: Storms on Foreign Skies

***

“Though you see me losing ground

I know that it is yet to be found

So please sojourn on, to where the wind flies high

Breathe not lament, breath but contented sigh

Slowly, the twilight gains as bright skies rest

Grant not my children the pain of my final test.”

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Heat, D.41

The courier came rushing into the room, breathless. Shoving aside the heavy drapes, the gold rings clicking softly in the small office. He paced quickly up to the richly carved table where Advisor Ahmir sat. Ahmir looked up from the paperwork he was working on, holding his hand up for the courier to pass him the scroll he carried. 

     Ahmir instantly recognized the seal on the scroll, it belonged to the King of Galus. Lucas Berthelot, though he went by Baron. Lucas always confused Ahmir about his title, he told him at one point that he kept the title in remembrance of his father. “You did well, here.” Ahmir reached down to a small pouch beside him and tossed it to the courier. He wanted to reward the courier for having the seal intact, no small feat considering what it would contain. 

     The pouch thumped heavily against his open palms, it was nearly half a year's pay to the haggard young man. Bowing deeply, and thanking Ahmir profusely. He was already breaking the seal and dismissing him though. His eyes scanned the scroll and shock solidified where disinterest was. 

     He quickly donned his more courtly robes and headed for the Sultan’s chamber. Letting his foot falls be heard, he rang the small bell that was only his to use, it sat on a small cushion laid in rich patterns, the deep crimson in stark contrast to the silver bell. 

     An uncomfortable moment later, the sultans' silky voice echoed in the marble hall, easily being heard through the heavy curtains. “Come in, Ahmir.”

     “Your Graciousness” Ahmir spoke as he kowtowed before the Sultan. “There has been an incident at the Lamia Outpost, it would appear that there has been a mess of confusing events.”

     Sultan Suleiman Khan Binal-hal, was resting on a thickly padded couch. His dark red robes draped across the floor from where they sat on his body. The Sultan sat up from his position, a small look of worry on his face. “Go on Ahmir, tell me what has happened. Such a place for this, so close to the Huronian forces.” he remarked.

     Ahmir explained the incident, going into detail about the Huronian Marshal quelling a riot. A missing ambassador, another military unit showing up to attack the Huron Marshal. “I do not know which commander took the authority on themselves to react to the Huron forces, but I will need to look into that. I also don’t know what this deal was that the Ambassador made with the Lamia, but…”

     “No,” The Sultan grew more and more visibly angry as Ahmir continued. “The Huronian Military stepped in when they were not supposed to. They should have allowed us to deal with the issue ourselves, per our treaty. We should send another battalion to reinforce the one already stationed there.” He quickly ordered.

     Ahmir was quiet for a moment, a fury edging into his voice, though a strong hint of caution stitched in. “Sultan, perhaps a more tempered reaction is in order. We do not know the details of this agreement the Ambassador made. I should also point out that King Berthelot noted that the Huronian Military was fully prepared to return the city to us, without any strings attached. Per our treaty. They only entrenched themselves because our forces attacked them.” 

     The Sultan’s rage somewhat diminished, taking a long drag off the crystal hookah next to him. “I suppose you have a point, then what would the Federation have us do? I will not allow them to simply take the outpost for themselves. I recognize the Federation stepping in for us to quickly quell this riot, but the missing ambassador causing this should have been left us alone.”

     “King Berthelot has proposed a summit be held inside the Federation, but he did not give us a destination. He explained he would like to give us the opportunity to present ourselves where we deemed fit. He stated that a delegation would allow the Caliphate to be heard and discuss the incident in more detail.” Ahmir let his statement hang in the air. “So that we are to not make war.”

     A long moment passed before the Sultan answered, puffing slowly, filling the chamber with its sweet smoke. “We still haven't fully expelled Ramachian influence in the priesthood. Nor some of their strongholds inside a few of the cities. If we were to go to war now, they would certainly take the chance to gain power in that time of unrest.” He paused, scratching his chin to think, “Yes, you are right to contradict me Ahmir. Thank you, we should be so hasty.”

     “Thank you, your Graciousness.” Ahmir spoke in a low tone. The Sultan scribbled away at a blank sheet of parchment. “I want to know who is leading the battalion on the outpost, I propose an immediate non-aggression treaty made to be sent to the front. For the moment, I want to investigate this more.” Ahmir continued, already handing the Sultan a scroll with the treaty drawn up. 

     “Just when I think you have no more surprises, here you are. Playing me in the exact position you needed. Well done Ahmir, you make Bhal proud.” The Sultan signed the document, and handed it back to him. Ahmir rose and sealed the document and handed it to an attendant just outside the curtains with some quick instructions. 

“Though, I would like this delegation to go smoothly.” The tone in the Sultan’s voice caught Ahmir’s attention. “I need someone who is skilled in negotiation, and would have the Caliphate's best interest at heart.”

     “You wish for me to go.” Ahmir said with a sigh.

     “Excellent idea! You would make a wonderful delegate to the summit! But, Ahmir, I do want it known.” The sultan rose from his couch, placing a firm hand on Ahmir’s shoulder. “There really is no better choice for this, you. My trusted advisor, are the only one who can speak to me like an equal.” The Sultan smiled down at Ahmir, allowing him to kiss his gold clad hand before departing.

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting, D.4 Ilgor

     “Stop swinging that saber around like a club, Ilgor! How many times do I need to repeat myself?” The Sorcerer scolded me as he swatted away my downward cut with the back of his hand. He returned my poor swordsmanship with a shallow cut along my shoulder with an impossibly quick stab. 

     I gasped at the sharp pain, but it was instantly gone as he healed it from where he stood. “How did you do that?” I asked, softly touching where the cut had been. “How can you heal at a distance?” 

     “In due time. You are not quite ready to learn that yet. However, you have made some remarkable improvement with what I have already shown you. Healing nearly fifty people in a single night, with only a single death?” He made a clucking noise, and opened his arms with a bow. “Please do tell me, where did you learn so much about anatomy?” He always seemed to speak with an arrogant condescending tone, even when he was trying to be genuine. 

     He indicated for me to begin again with the lesson. I made sure to have the true edge of the blade corrected this time, and slashed at him again. Bouncing back on his heels, and parried my slash with a thrust of his own. I pivoted and barely missed the thrust, though it did catch the fabric of my dress. “From our Mother. She…” I began.

     “Yes, yes, yes. I know about your backwater culture and their emphasis on a symbolic nuclear family.” He waved the statement aside, “But again, you choreograph your strikes too much. The power comes from your wrists, not your elbows. Stay in guard, rush then slash. It’s harder for an ordinary person to react. Less time to respond before being cut. Do it again.”

     Angry at his dismissiveness, I did as he instructed. Though I knew he took the slash to prove his point, he slowed his movements to allow it. As I sparred with him over the last few days worth of lessons, it was rather obvious that he was not a normal human. Faster, quicker, smarter, reflexes unnaturally graceful. I could never remember even Knoll or Cori being so fluid. So the deep cut I made down his side didn’t even phase him. 

     He smirked down at me, blood never even staining his robes as the wound was healed the instant I made it. “You can’t even give me the satisfaction of seeing you bleed?” I hissed out, still angry at his dismissal of my culture. “Beyond that, why do you always pair the lessons with something else? Can’t we focus on one thing at a time?”

     “Now Ilgor, life rarely lets you focus on one thing at a time. What better way to train your mind at dealing with multiple things at one time than with a genuine article?” He said as he lunged at me, sword pointed toward my chest. “Tell me more of your ‘Mother’s’ lessons.”

     I told him of a lecture she gave me about skeletal structures. I parried his thrust away with enough time to slash back at him, bringing the blade down in a swift stroke. Putting a deep cut in his lower arm as he bounded backwards. “As for the lesson though, your ‘Mother’ certainly taught you much about organic systems. Based on the wounds you described, she was quite the healer.”

     The compliment took me off guard, enough for him to close the distance and slash at me in a flurry of blows. I parried, countered, and blocked, but each one left a cut on me, while none of mine hit him. Fast paced, barely anytime to react, I was slowly gaining ground on him. After one of my slashes actually struck home, he had a genuine look of shock beneath his mask, his mouth dropping in a comical O shape.

     He smiled and bellowed an unearthly laugh that seemed to have many voices behind it. He disarmed me, and flung my blade far off to the side. “What a wonderful use of your magic! I didn’t even have to teach you that!” He smiled deeply, showing his disturbingly sharp teeth. “I haven’t seen that since the time of…” I stumbled backwards as his mouth vanished, not understanding what had just happened. Leaving only smooth skin where a mouth should have been.

He looked more annoyed than concerned. His mouth returned an instant later, rubbing his chin. “So that curse works on me as well. I suppose it has been a while, hadn’t realized.” He said under his breath, glancing over at me and my horrified expression. “Never mind, there are some things we cannot speak of in this world.” He spoke with ominous certainty, that it left a dark shade somewhere in the back of my mind.

     Composing myself, sometimes strange things like that happened whenever I was around him. “What was I doing that made you so impressed?” I probed, getting back to my feet.

     “Why, you were using such an advanced technique that many spellswords never even reach. You were humming as you fought, using the wind to make a pressure difference around your blade to increase your speed. You were even doing the same thing with your own body. A Domain of Air indeed. I simply must pause our lesson in swordsmanship to teach you more about your Talent.” He told me, his disturbing smile back on his face.

     “I didn’t know I was doing it, so how can that be helpful to me if I don’t know how to make it happen?” I asked, a skepticism evident in my voice.

     “And that is where you will learn. You will learn to control that, and quickly. After seeing you do that, I don’t feel like holding my punches as much. SO, let us begin!” He grabbed my wrist, we were suddenly somewhere else. A sheet of ice bobbing up and down as it lurched in the wind of a full blown hurricane. The spray of sea water soaking me to the bone almost instantly.

     “Where the fuck are we, Sorcerer!” I yelled over the wind, gripping into the icy sheet to keep from being flung off. Trying to sink my nails deep into the surface.

     “In the southern seas to the east of Glaion. This hurricane might not make it to the coastline of Estile, but another will rise after this.” His voice cleaved through the howling wind as if there was none. “Lesson one, I will walk you through on how to calm this wind. Then I will teach you how I am doing this to my voice. Let us begin again.”

***

     The soft autumnal breeze played with the loose strands of my hair, dancing lazily in my field of vision. The soft sound of Mother breathing as she slept on my shoulder as the sun warmed us, was putting me in a sleepy mood as well. The waves slapping against the rocks at the base of the bluffs accentuated the echoes of Mother’s words before she dozed off. 

     The leaves in the forest turned a brilliant fiery mosaic on the bluffs that jutted out into the bay. I watched the great gusts of wind flow gently across those far off canopies, and felt a sense of peace. The threat of hurricanes off in the distant horizon being a stark reminder of the impending Season of Waiting. The cold dipped low off the mountains and blanketed the hills and bluffs in deep snow each year as the storms passed over the peninsula to stall at the base of our mountains. But, the beauty of the changing seasons felt different these days. 

     She was teaching me that the prayers we offer Bhal, he heard personally. She was explaining that while he was our Father, he granted us only a spark of his power. That we had to use it how we saw fit, he would not direct it, we needed to be careful with it. His guiding hand only to the point of offering. He granted us the potential to do great things with his power, but wanted to see us grow from it.  After she was finished explaining it, she began a lecture on medicine, and how the body worked.

     I chuckled, I could see she was bored with the topic, a lecture she herself had heard many times from Mother Misry before her. She dozed off to her own words as she was explaining our skeletal structure. She told me that I needed to know how things worked if my prayers were to be helpful and not harmful. I could pray for someone's broken bones to be healed, but end up giving them an extra one if I wasn’t careful.

     She slowly worked through her lecture on our organs and how they all worked together. How the stomach was linked to the mind, how your heart and lungs were the first to be healed in any situation. She spoke of how those healed would still need to rest, that the prayers would only do so much.

     She told me that she had never really thought our voices carried such power as when I showed her how it affected others that weren’t of our family. She had revised some of her lessons to emphasize our voice in the prayers. That we should direct our voice as if speaking to the wound or ailment itself. She told me she would have explained it more as setting the prayer to observe the body as a whole, and speak against its wrongs. She smiled as something clicked in her mind and was more than excited to explain how it made more sense after seeing me do it.

     I leaned my head on hers and closed my eyes. Listening as the world went on around us, the wind through the trees, the waves everlasting rhythm. Mother’s soft breathing, the slow rise and fall of her body. She was warm, she was happy, content. 

     I awoke to the memory still dancing in my eyes. Running my hand over my face trying to wake more, feeling the heavy bags under them. I felt rested though, for the first time in a while since the ceremony. I jumped as though something unwrapped itself from my waist, looking around I saw nothing. Though I had a sense of someone watching me, I saw no one around. It didn’t feel malicious as the Sorcerer had felt, it felt different, more familiar. 

     I slowly rose to my feet, dusting myself off. I fell asleep in the ancient forest again. Under one of the great boughs of a massive oak, feeling safe here. Despite the harpies, I knew Shi’ril would keep the matriarch away. He watched over me when I was here. “I need to thank him for that sometime.” Sighing, “There I go again, talking to myself.” I shook my head and started walking back to the clan. 

     I thought back to the dream, back to the lessons the Sorcerer was teaching me. Mother had told me that I needed to be specific when praying to Bhal, or issues may arise. The Sorcerer had taught me more or less the same thing, only with extra steps. He had told me that the heart was only a conduit to be healed and to direct the healing. I still needed to know how to get there, and the structures involved. Mother didn’t use the heart to do so, she only suffused the magic directly in the area. 

     I ducked under one of the fallen trees in the path, as my breath billowed out around me with fog. My ears twitched at every breaking stick, but I still thought back to the lessons. Mother’s prayers seemed less effective, but more direct. Why? Why would being more direct have less effect? Maybe the conduit method streamlined the process more.

     Crossing a small dry streambed, taking a mental note that more copper chunks were studded in the ground. Their pale green caught my attention in the sea of crimson and gold. Maybe the heart did know what the body needed more, though the Sorcerer also mentioned I had to siphon away the excess magic or the treatment would cause odd side effects.

     Mother mentioned something similar, but that had to do more with how you worded the prayer. But Mother never mentioned getting rid of the magic after we were done with it. I wonder if that was why it took longer, we had to fix the issues we caused during the healing. Hmmm, despite having more steps to it, the Sorcerer’s way of doing seems to leave less work in the end with a better result. 

     I saw the caves down by the shore come into view now, that the break in the trees appeared. I wonder if by mixing the two methods, I had an even better effect. Maybe that was why I was able to heal so many. That mad man seemed impressed by my feat at least. I walked back to his little enclave, passing the clan entirely. I had more questions.

     Walking as quietly as possible, sticking to the softest parts of earth. I wanted to see just what I had to do to sneak up on the mad man. I was almost to the table he had set up next to the steel clad wagon. “Try harder.”

     Jumping as the voice appeared behind me, wiping around ready to block some errant strike he was likely to do. I only needed one lesson from him to do that. I saw him standing there with a plate of bread and cheese, a thick bottle of liquor in his other hand. “My my my, I taught you well, I’m not in the mood for games today however. Sit, I take it you wanted to learn some more?”

     “Well, yes.” I said hesitantly, he had never been so nice before. I wondered what had him so upset that he didn’t even try to mix his lesson with combat again.

     He sat heavily in his chair, levitating another from the wagon. Gesturing for me to join him, he picked at the fresh bread, but never really eating it. “Is something wrong?” I asked.

     “Hmm? Oh plans backfired on me, I wanted to play a trick on my brother and he outsmarted me.” He wafted his hand about, “It’s… annoying to be outwitted by a fool.”

     “Who is your brother?” I danced around my chances, he flicked his eyes up to me while uncorking the bottle, but never answered my question. “Moving on then…”

     “I wanted to know more about the world at large.” I probed his mood with the question, intentionally leaving it vague. 

     “Going to have to be more specific, priestess. What aspect of it.” He responded as he handed me a glass of the strong smelling booze. 

     Crinkling my nose, I sipped it. The burn it had was intense, coughing. “What is this?”

     “Spiced moonshine, there is a lovely distillery in Port De Renard. Not entirely legal persay, but I enjoy it.” Gulping down the intense alcohol, he turned back to me. “Now, where do we begin today?”

     “Who is the leader of the Glaion? I think I met the Captain of the Guard, but I keep hearing about some Baron. I don’t know what that is.” Sitting back, enjoying this moment of calm with the Sorcerer.  He was an intense person, never really letting you relax when he was around. But, I’d take the moment as a pleasant reprieve.

     “Baron is a royal title given to a member of the Court that has been gifted land. The Baron in this instance is called Lucas Berthelot, Though he is absolutely not a Baron, he is the King of Galus, he resides in the Capital of Glaion. The Captain of the Guard, I’m assuming you met Chancellor Michéle. He has a split role of delegating the day to day operations of the City, and running the Guard and security of the walls.” 

He peered over at me, “I’m surprised you met him and were allowed to leave. He has had quite the conniption about you goblins for many years now. He wants you and your antics to stop, though the Baron doesn’t see you as a worthwhile endeavor for the City’s resources.” 

     I wasn't expecting such a concise explanation. I figured there was a specific reason for why we were still here at all. I just didn’t realize it was such a mundane one as the cost. “Why is he called the Baron then?”

     “He holds onto the title given to him by his Father, he was gifted a large Vineyard to the north of the city when he was a teenager. He kept the title despite being crowned on the day of his Father’s death, he is a strange type of humble. Keeps the title, though flaunts his power when people forget what he actually is. I think he does it just to keep people on their toes.” He answered, pouring another glass of the moonshine. 

     “So why does the city Guard just not attack us then? Do it on their own accord?” I didn’t know what kind of answer I was going to get, but he was being thorough for now. I might as well find out.

     “You can thank Michéle for that recently. Well more precisely you can thank Lucas for not thinking hunting you all down would bring the benefit Michéle thinks it would. Lucas holds the same opinion his Father and his Father before him had. That while you stay out here, it forces the Merchants to be more careful with their wares. If they hire their own private guard as a hedge against you and your people, it saves them the cost of having to patrol the roads themselves.” 

“Michéle won’t disobey Lucas without significant reason, the Guard after all are ordinary people. They know all the stories about you blood thirsty goblins, about how you are brutal little murderers who take anything of value.” He finished with an immense dose of mocking sarcasm. 

     And there it is again, he must be starting to feel better. “What is the Caliphate?”

     He set down his drink with an odd smirk. Like he was thinking back to some personal accomplishment. “Let's do a quick history, this could go on for days otherwise, such a wonderful question indeed. The Caliphate refers to a creed inside the Faith of the eastern Humans living on the lower half of the continent. Their faith is everything to them, it guides their politics to the industry to their day to day lives. Their entire religion revolves around their god Bhal. Though he is known by many names, this is the one recognized in modern discourse.”

“The Caliphate creed revolves around the idea that their faith needs to be followed by all. Now whether or not you believe in their faith is not the important part to them, only that you follow the teachings of their god. Bhal is in their eyes the manifestation of Ambition, war, and glory. Though that leads into more nuance than I wish to go into at the moment. I will touch on the fact that the current Caliphate is much more centered on cultural domination and industrial complexity. They are not so focused on war and conquest in the conventional sense for this iteration of the Caliphate.”

“Though I will add that the Federation is the main factor for that. As they did not want another warmongering neighbor as the previous Ramachian Caliphate was. They very intentionally propped up a rebellion that had industrial aspirations rather than glory seekers. So this being said, the current Caliphate is an industrial ally to the Federation, though they have always been aware that war is possible due to the ideological belief the Zybtine government has. Does this answer your question enough?” He asked.

     My head swam with all the information, though I was putting pieces together. “I suppose that explains why many people are worried about a war with them. I overheard a group of scholars talking about some conflict at an outpost.” 

     “Ah yes, That. Interesting little hot engagement that is currently stalled out. Less about religion and more about boring old politics and treaties. Though we can go into it more if you’d like?” He picked away at the bread again.

     “I think we can revisit it later. Why did the previous Caliphate go to war with the Federation?” I asked.

     “That is a multifaceted question. To put it simply, Huron was the first target for the Song of Bhal.” He started.

     “The what song?” I interrupted him.

     “The capital city of the Caliphate is called The Song of Bhal. Now, Huron was the first target because they have a deep penetration to the interior of the continent due to being built on the Iorli shoreline. But, ultimately the Caliphate attacked an ally of both Mhuzelt and Galus, and treaties were invoked. They wished to spread the glory of their god to all, and were punished for doing so. While they almost succeeded in taking Huron, they ended up doing more damage to the image of their god in the west than proving any point they had in mind.” He explained.

     “So this seems to me like more of a holy war they tried to wage. I know what Bhal asks of us, but I am curious as to who the other gods are. I’ve heard a few of the names, but who are all of them?” I questioned.

     He pondered for a moment, swirling his drink about. “Lets focus just on the main core of the Pantheon. There are many ‘gods’ in this region, so we won't focus so much on all the one off deities many of the communities have. You have Bhal, who is the god of ambition and domination. There is Azu the goddess of beauty and light. Xelex the god of balance and repercussion. Azulu who many debate is actually Azu, though… let's not get into it. Azulu is the god of day and night. Koroth who represents the seas and tides. Vilroeth is a god of freedom and joy. Kinlith is the harvest god and dictates the seasons. Finally there is Welkford, the god of health and charity.” 

He paused, then added with another strange look. “For your sake I should explain The Forgotten Family. They are immensely popular in the City of Glaion, and have many worshippers here. Ironic considering where they lie.” He added under his breath. “The Forgotten Family is a trio of nameless gods in the Galonic interpretation, though they represent the found family and camaraderie. How the covenant made between souls holds as much power as blood.”

     “I see… that’s a lot to follow up on.”

     “Good to see that it sparked your interest in learning.” He spouted sarcastically.

     “I have another topic I want to talk about. Can you teach me how to grow a garden? What do I need to start?” I was a little embarrassed to ask, but the village needed to know.

     “What a fascinating realm! Let us begin!” He said pulling a book out of nowhere. We talked for a few hours about the requirements, what plants grow better when and where. How to watch for disease and pests, he was all around quite helpful on the subject. 

     During our discussion, we ended up finishing the bottle of moonshine he had brought. I vaguely remember him bringing out more food, he told me I needed to sober up before heading back to the clan. I still wasn’t used to this side of the Sorcerer, I think I preferred his more obnoxious side, that was more predictable.

     After a time he sent me off, saying he had enough of me today. I wandered back to the village, still wobbly on my feet. I managed to make my way back to the cave that the tavern was in. I heard their voices from the outside, “I am worried about her, that strange magic Illy has been using is definitely doing something. But…” I heard Knoll’s voice.

     “I’ll agree, but I think it’s better. Her magic is something else, a whole different caliber. She barely touched me the other day and she closed that wound on my arm.” I could hear the clink of a glass on rough wooden tables.

     Walking in, there was only Ghet, Cori and Knoll sitting in the tavern alone. Looking up at me, Knoll grabbed an extra chair. I suppose I was still pretty drunk, stumbling as I walked over to them. Cori came over and helped me to the table. 

     Knoll handed me a tankard of some clear liquid. “Pretend it’s vodka, you're walking drunk.” Knoll laughed. “Where have you been that you’re in a state like this?”

     “I was with the Sorcherer again.” I slurred out.

     “Hob mentioned that to me, said you completely shut down his raid on that.” Cori chimed in. 

     “Goo hing too, he would have slaughtered them.” I said, drinking out of the tankard. 

     “All that aside, why have you been spending so much time with him?” Ghet asked, reaching into a pouch he had begun carrying with him lately. He pulled out a small cigar and handed it to me, handing more out to the rest. 

     Lighting it with the lantern in the center of the table I told them about the lessons in magic. Went into detail about the politics and the things I was planning on for the village. “He got me drunk talking about plants after all! What a way to do so! He just keeps on talking and talking going on and on, I’m just trying to remember the details then he rolls into the next thing.” I chuckled out. 

     The sweet smoke of the tobacco filling the cavern was a pleasant reprieve to my last long discussion. “Is there a reason you silenced the room?” Cori asked with a puff of smoke. 

     “Oh, yeah…. I sorta made a deal with him that I wouldn’t teach anyone in the clan about what I’m learning until ‘we faced some great calamity’” I said, mocking his warning to me. I was beginning to sober up after all my chatting.

     “You think he’s outside the door listening?” Knoll chuckled, “I think we’d know if he was in the village.”

     “He still might be listening, he’s powerful, odd. He seems to be a lot older than he’s letting on, hints at weird shit.” I said.

     “Like what?” Ghet asked, crossing his arms.

     “He made a comment about that trio of gods today. Something about how it’s ironic that they are worshiped in the city because of where they lie. Honestly, I think he might be messing with me sometimes.” I whined. 

     “Odd indeed” Knoll added, “But, as long as we're on the topic of what you’ve been learning. What do you have in mind? You wouldn’t be bothering with this unless you had a plan, would you?”

     Telling them about how I want to scout out some areas for farming. How to treat the soil and be, hopefully, entirely self-sufficient with our food needs in the next year or two. I also talked about how I wanted to start gathering material for a proper wall around the village, we were already learning some of that from Caleb as it was. 

     “Do you think that wouldn’t be obvious to the Chief? Beyond that, if we are trying to emulate the City in that regard, we are going to need space topside to build actual structures.” Ghet commented. 

     “Fair point, I think if we could expand the village by a factor of two by moving topside and still have the caves, I think we would be a step in the right direction.” I said, loving the sweet and spicy taste of the tobacco. “What is this?” I asked Ghet.

     “You were talking to the merchant hawking the stuff for a while. I only asked for what you were interested in. Got quite a few of them here, for cheap. Merchant said it was a blend of Corjo and Broadleaf.” Ghet said, patting his pouch. 

     I flushed a little, reddening my already flushed face. Scratching the back of my head, inadvertently undoing my braid. “I didn’t think anyone saw that.”

     Knoll laughed deep, patting his bulk. “Well Ghet sure as hell did! I haven’t seen you enjoy something like that in a while. Ilgor, don’t you think you are working a bit too hard?”

     “I have things that need being done!” I pouted, “Besides it’s not like Yorm is doing anything to better the clan…” 

     “Also a fair point” Cori added, “Hot headed fool nearly got us killed, and for what? A lousy spice merchant that had hired actual competent mercenaries. Aside from a few of those spices, there was nothing we couldn’t have just sent a lone raider in, to just take in the dead of night.”

     We let her vent for a while, letting her work through her pent up annoyance and fury. “I mean really, why an all out assault then for it to go wrong! Isn’t he the one telling us while we fight to not put our full strength in every blow? One wrong step and you wiff the strike and you’re wide open!” She threw her hands in the air, making a show of it. Knoll only chuckled as he listened. 

     “Sounds like Yorm alright. He’s getting more zealous in his old age. I think he’s really trying to prove himself to Bhal, I think he’s finally realized he hasn’t done much except maintain the status quo.” Knoll said, his gaze far off in the distance. He too, possibly remembering back to his accomplishments, if they were worthy of being remembered. 

     “I hate to put it this way, but…” I chimed in, annoyed at the topic already. “I want to move away from this topic. I want to talk about how we are going to start squirreling away supplies.” 

     Knoll thought for a bit, resting his chin on his palm. “Well, if we take some of the bigger trees from farther out, Chief isn’t likely to notice. Beyond that, we can always ask Caleb for some storage, it won’t look suspicious there either.”

     Ghet agreed, adding more, “We can also treat and reinforce them there too. When the time comes, we can certainly teach others on how to do it. It would be worth a look into asking him about his gardens as well. He has quite a few herbs growing just outside his fence now.”

     “I just feel like we have been asking a lot from him ever since he showed up.” I lamented. I didn’t want him to feel like we were just using him. “Do you think he would want to become part of the family some day?”

     The other three looked over at me, a mixed reaction of shock and confusion. “What do you mean part of the family? He isn’t a goblin, he’s human.” Knoll said.

     “I’m not saying that in the traditional sense, Knoll. I want to offer him a place here, somewhere he can belong. He can’t go back to Zybtine, and he isn’t wanted in the City. He can become part of the family in title and rank, he need not marry into the clan like you just thought.” I chided him.