"It is done, lady Tanya."
I nodded, measuring the blacksmith's work with critical eye. A stone tablet, encased in a band of iron with two handles, and a thick, adjustable leather strap. A wristwatch in form, if not in function.
The biggest detriment of the magical translation glyph the shaman called 'the Sign of Tongues' was that to use it, you had to touch it. To combat the annoyance of constantly holding something that to me, was slightly bigger than a wristwatch's clock face, I commissioned the lead kobold blacksmith to create something that would make carrying it convenient.
Putting it on, I hummed approvingly. "Excellent work, master Armak. Rest assured I will reward you appropriately."
"You are too kind, my Lady. Your thanks are all the reward I need." the kobold replied with a confused expression on his face.
And there was the kicker. Kobolds lived in complete communism, confused by concepts such as the value of money and rewards for proper work. To them, as long as you were useful to the community, you'll find food, shelter and even amenities, their flow directed by the elders of the village. Additional or exceptionally well-made work was rewarded only with gratitude and social status, things infamous for their bad exchange rates.
As much as it irked me, I was willing to forgive it. Kobolds were literally a tribal commune cut off from the rest of the world, unable to trade with other settlements. And I could concede the appeal of barter trade inside a community of just over three hundred.
It doesn't meant I liked it, or that I couldn't do something about it. All I lacked was a proper incentive.
To find one, I needed to know how the tribe operates. I wasn't a British gentleman adventurer from the Victorian era, here to bring capitalism to the primitives in the most sudden and invasive way possible. I needed a way to incentivize change through, not against, the local customs if I didn't want to be met with excessive resistance. The evolution of an economic system happened through generation-spanning changes in the mindsets of its members combined with social and financial reforms.
Well that, or forcing it through by installing an oppressive regime and becoming an iron-fisted dictator. But I was unwilling to take a page out of communists' playbook.
That left making myself familiar with what the settlement produced and consumed. But I was unwilling to go around, asking people what they were doing. No, like any new CEO of a company, it meant making myself familiar with people with experience and expertise. In short, it was time to meet the department chiefs.
"Hik, call for captain Turok and the village elders. Master Armak, follow me. We will meet in my burrow."
---
"Before we begin, I want to ask whether every kobold of substantial standing and knowledge is gathered here. I wish to acquaint myself with the socio-economic dynamics of the Earthmounds tribe."
"Erm, what..? I m-mean, yes they're all here, lady Tanya."
"Excellent, Hik. We may begin."
In the end, a total of six individuals gathered beside me in my freshly dug out 'office'.
Elder Obok, the main authority on kobold lore, customs and magical practices.
Elder Kamik, expert on local flora and fauna, both wild and cultivated.
Captain Turok, the chief of Earthmounds defenses.
Master Armak, the lead blacksmith, in charge of maintaining both the forge and smelters.
Patriarch Hurk, the main caretaker of the hatcheries and nurseries.
And Hik, my herald and holder of the second translation tablet.
"Then, first and foremost, I'd like to thank everyone for gathering on such a short notice. I understand you have your duties to perform, but if I am to become a successful manager of this colony, I will require your expertise."
Placing her hand on the tablet held by Hik, elder Kamik spoke. "It is of no concern, lady Tanya. Tell us, what do you wish to know?"
"The first thing I need to know is the amount, age and qualities of human, or rather kobold, capital at our disposal."
"Pardon, my Lady?" This time it was elder Obok, his facial features strangely strained.
"The number of kobolds living in the village, their age distribution and professions. Before we proceed further, I must know these things."
Patriarch Hurk went first "Well, lady Tanya, last time I checked the hatcheries had sixty one eggs in them, while the nurseries are occupied by forty seven whelps too young to help adults work."
Captain Turok hit her chest with clenched fist, probably a kobold equivalent of a salute. "There are currently seventy five warriors under my command, my Liege."
"And I direct the efforts of six other smiths." added master Armak.
"Which makes one hundred and twenty eight. During the feast I counted over three hundred individuals living within the village, although the exact specifics escaped me. Is there any record on the age and profession of the remaining two hundred villagers?"
"Well, my Lady" spoke Obok "I can assure you that, barring me and elder Kamik, there are no kobolds too old to work. The number of hunters greatly varies, as they risk death and injury in the treacherous forests, but they average around thirty individuals. The others change their duties regularly, tending the fields, caring for children, preparing food and overseeing the chickens. Those remaining either rest, make replacement pottery, forage at the edge of the clearing or help the warriors to watch for predators."
"And, elder Obok, how many kobolds, barring hunters, smiths and warriors, work per day, and how often?"
"Well, all these jobs have to be done every day. Between the children constantly demanding attention, the village's constant hunger for food, the need to let the chickens feed and checking the fields for pests and weeds, I'd say around eighty kobolds work a day, with a single villager working around three to four times a week."
I grimaced. That was unacceptable. Between predators and diseases, I can understand that barring jobs demanding large amounts of experience, such as smithing and fighting, one needed to diversify the available assets and generalize. But having around 25% of human resources be either idle or doing 'work' that was more in line of everyday chores was just wasteful.
Going forward, I wanted introduce such concepts as specialization and professionalism that was incentivized with proper rewards, and as such, could be held to a standard of quality. The weapons and armor were the only things that kobolds considered the quality of, as a faulty spear could mean the difference between catching dinner and being one. And even then, as I learned by prodding master Armak, smiths didn't specialize, creating weapons, armor and utensils in equal measure. Some were better at making one thing than others, but the constant threat of a smith dying to an animal or disease prevented them from fully focusing on their talents.
Not to mention that the creation of above-average work wasn't incentivized in any meaningful way.
So, in order to introduce true professionalism to kobolds, I needed to overcome two obstacles. I needed to find ways to combat the high mortality rate, and a way to introduce the basics of commerce. And as I said before I currently lacked opportunities to do the second.
Which meant focusing on weapons and fortifications used to defend the village, tactics used to do so, the medical practices of kobolds and how their magical knowledge and abilities could aid the above points. As a mage myself, focusing on the last point first would allow me the greatest degree of personal contribution.
"Elder Obok, I wish to inquire something..."
---
The dragon was mad. By Gods, the village was under the rule of a madwoman.
In kobold legends Obok has come to know, dragons were capable of both great benevolence and cruelty. Be they genial rulers or vile overlords, one thing always remained true: dragon's actions are motivated by their greed. The only difference between them were how much control they had over their nature, and what they valued.
One would think that a dragon that valued the people would be a kind and just ruler. Only when they heard the callous words used to describe them, would they be proven wrong.
Human resources, assets. The words that treated fellow being not as something that could think and tire, but as a tool to be used and discarded.
Obok could admit that he cared for the clan as a whole more than any individual who made it, and yes, people like Hik infuriated him to no end with their selfishness and unwillingness to share in their success. But he was capable of seeing beyond the value of a kobold as a worker, and seeing their value as a member of a family, with their individual dreams and will.
Tanya Degurechaff didn't, judging by her scowl as she was told that not every kobold worked every day.
Obok could now imagine the nest the devil hailed from. Judging by her use of the term human resources, instead of dwarf, kobold or goblin, her parents were rulers of a human kingdom, their subjects toiling endlessly to bring them more and more riches, receiving only token compensation. The little whelp must have been inspired, leaving the nest early in order to establish her own repugnant kingdom of slavery.
But such thoughts will have to wait for later. For now, their benevolent ruler wished to learn kobold magic.
"I am curious about the nature of the Sign of Tongues, esteemed shaman. It's not a kind of magic I am familiar with, and wish to know more about it."
"As you wish, my Lady, although I creation of the signs is taxing on both mind and body. As such I would be grateful if you were satisfied with mere explanation."
"Not ideal, but acceptable. Please continue."
"The Sign of Tongues is in fact seven lesser signs brought together to create something greater. The most crucial is the sign of Meaning fused with the glyph of Intent. A properly transcribed Intent will tell the Meaning what to look for. Then by placing a focus object such as a twig, a bone or a rock, and performing an action on it, be it touching it, burning it or telling its name, the combination will not only be able to fully measure the action, but the meaning behind it."
"Question, elder Obok. For how long did you know this combination, and how many mages can perform it?"
"Well, lady Tanya, the signs themselves are ancient, but the combination is much newer, dating just over 90 years, discovered by esteemed shaman Kotek. As for the ability to create it, I am the first shaman able to do so since the founding of Earthmounds, and third one if considered our founding city of Knifecaves. However, none of the artifacts from that time remain, the signs too corroded with time. They had to be destroyed."
The dragon made a face. "Why did they have to be destroyed?"
"So that no fool would try to use it. Understand, lady Tanya, that using a sign that is either too old or improperly made can result in a disaster."
"Such as?"
"The user catching on unquenchable fire, exploding, or drained to death. The signs have no power on their own, and merely shape the will of others to direct the magic to do their bidding. The shapeless will flows in, and shaped, ready to use one, flows out. If there are any flaws in the shaping, the spell will destabilize, and start cannibalizing the user's strength. That strength can either light someone aflame, burning until nothing remains, accumulate within a body until it can no longer be held, or be released into the ether as the faulty spell drains the user dead."
"And there is no way to prevent this? I once was forced into using an item with similar behavior. At least until an... individual I despise stuck his meddlesome fingers into it."
"For a regular person? No. For a sufficiently powerful and skilled mage, such as I or you, lady Tanya, taking control of the faulty spell and depriving it of the source of will would choke it to the point of fading away."
"Thank you for enlightening me, shaman Obok. Now, please get back to the explanation."
"Right away, my Lady. The combined Meaning and Intent is then further joined by Shape and Memory. The insight gained through the first two signs is stored in Memory. As more information begins to flow, Shape alters Memory in more and more intricate patterns to fit it. The last part of making the Sign of Tongues itself, is Voice. Memory is channeled through Meaning to Voice to translate and vocalize what is said by its holder. Then, Touch and Drain are added to limit the translation only to the person holding the glyph, and allow non-mages to use it by converting their stamina into will. While creating the Sign, all seven spells have to be run by the shaman himself, kept up at all times until the glyph's completion. That is why it's only feasible to do so while under the effects of a special brew that sharpens the mind, and in case of shamans, greatly reduce the strain of maintaining multiple spells at the same time."
"Another question, if I could. How long do these signs last?"
"They can be used for up to a year by non-mages, and up to five by experienced shamans."
"Thank you. I truly am grateful for sharing your wisdom with me, elder Obok. Now I will go hunt, as I am quite hungry. Before I do that however, I wish to simply ask how kobold shamans learn and cast traditional spells."
"Well, that is a much simpler affair, although a time consuming one. For example, when I first learned how to make things both hot and cold, I had to alternate between going out into the snow with my hand stuck in a water filled pot. I had to feel it becoming cold, before returning to the burrow, and heating the water again on the campfire, all while having my hand stuck there, experiencing how the water got warmer and the fire became weaker. When my mentor judged me ready, he ordered me to focus on a stone while recalling the sensation and channeling my will."
Obok took such a stone and placed it on the palm of Tanya's paw, promptly using the spell to make the rock first scorching hot, then designating a heat sink in another rock and making the original one freezing cold.
Now, the dragon's expression was equal parts confusion and anger. "Again, I am grateful for the... enlightening experience. I will no longer take your valuable time, elder Obok."
Before the old shaman could reply, the dragon was out of the burrow, disappearing behind the village gates, all while roaring in rage.
---
"A spell that could work as a thermometer or a force gauge! Fucking machine learning! One good enough to decipher and remember a language in hours! Written in coal, on a stone tablet! And what does he give me when I ask about normal spells? Focus on the feelings! Paint him green, and he'd start talking about force and swinging a lightsaber!"
I admit I wasn't entirely fair. It was obvious that the shaman used his experiences with water changing temperature to instruct the mana, or a he called it, willpower, what to do. And he achieved great results with such primitive methods too. The spell did leak a lot of mana, but the heat change was fast, and the shaman paid the inefficiency no heed. Teach him proper formulas and give an abacus, and he'd be able to turn half the village into freezers.
The most infuriating thing about the whole ordeal was that the signs couldn't be easily replicated. Having only one person being able to create something, especially something that cannot be used by most of the population after a year, didn't lead to scientific advancement. It lead to cargo cults, worshiping the 'wise ways of the ancients' and looking into the past instead of the future.
Then again it wasn't like I didn't notice how easy it was to use spells, even without computation orb. When I finally got enough mana to play around with I noticed how uncharacteristically easy and efficient my spells were, all while completely unassisted by any device. Not to mention that while I first had to wait five years to get big enough reserve to cast basic illusions for half an hour, now, in mere two months I went from that to an upper A aerial mage class.
And I was a malnourished runt. Who knew how powerful my siblings were now, even discounting dragon's many inborn magical abilities.
My body, I learned, had an amazing amount of abilities built in. It constantly ran body reinforcement spell. I could channel mana to my nose, eyes and ears to make them much more sensitive, and the one channeled to my wings automatically reinforced them and made them run the flight formula. All without me having to even touch math. It wasn't efficient, but who needed efficiency when I woke up every day with noticeably bigger mana reserves.
But I shouldn't let myself be distracted. Now I was hunting in a forest full of predators.
It was only this thought that let me notice something behind me and turn around just in time to see a predator trying to sneak up on me. My first thoughts were how can something this huge move so quietly!
It was two stories tall while hunched over. It had a body plan similar to a gorilla and features of elk and goat, with a third, blood-red eye protruding from the middle of its forehead, all that held together by raw hatred. I saw other creatures like this before, albeit smaller. A fiend, and a big one to boot.
Barring the fact it's middle eye was red instead of a normal brown-ish color, the other noticeable differences was the tone of its skin and mane. The mane was graying, and its skin, instead of creamy pink, was parchment yellow. The fiend looked old, if not worse for wear judging by its bulging muscles.
I had no desire to fight a creature as tall as I was long. But before I could make a tactical retreat, the middle eye flashed a baleful red and my vision turned black.
"What the fuck did that beast do?! I can't see anything!"
I was dizzy and blind, only sensing the sudden flash of a reinforcement formula, the instinctual one judging by its inefficiency. That bastard is magical too, and smart enough to turn his empowering off while sneaking around!
There must be some way to get my sight back. While not following the rules to a T, the nature of magic here was similar to my previous world. There shouldn't be any voodoo curse that'd just take my sight because reasons! That meant it was something else.
But before I could concentrate, I had to dodge. Honing my sense of smell and hearing, all while feeling out the beast's mana signature, I jumped to the left, hitting a tree. At least I dodged what, by the dull impact, was a blow of a massive, magic enhanced fist.
Focus on the eyes. There, I feel it! Twin illusion formulas, placed around my eyes in smoking spheres.
How did an animal get such a level of precision?! This is bullshit!
I couldn't dismiss an illusion that wasn't my own, and since it was smoke instead of anything solid disturbing it would be difficult. I needed to take a hold of it and polarize it at the source, making it transparent, or at least see through.
I needed something to make the creature back off for a moment. But without line of sight I couldn't create illusions. Fuck, I guess it leaves only one option.
I focused the mana channels in my mouth and pushed as much as I could into them. I felt the roar of the emerging flames, as raw mana reacted with oxygen.
It was similar in principle to the diffusive explosions I created using Type 95 back on the Rhine front. Mana was poured into a bullet, then the formula containing it was destabilized, releasing it all at once. The mana then consumed all surrounding oxygen, creating a thermobaric explosion. Here, released in a steady stream, it simply burned in white-hot flames.
I took hold of the formula surrounding my eyes, fiddling with its polarization. The fiend didn't deign to give me much time, as I heard him charging as soon as I stopped breathing fire. I had to settle on everything looking gray and off-color, not having the time to make the illusion transparent.
I dodged again, but the fiend was smart. Using its momentum in tandem with enhanced strength and durability, he hooked one arm around a tree, using it like a pole and making a rapid turn, swinging another massive arm at me. Only the quickly raised protective shell saved my life, the blow merely taking air out of my lungs.
I jumped back, putting some distance between me and the beast, and groaned in pain. At least the body reinforcements, both the passive and active one, prevented me from breaking anything.
That fiend clearly was the 'Old Red Eye' the locals were warning me about. Allegedly, he killed three dragons, although ones much, much smaller than my parents. If the Elders were to be believed, the only local dragons were the green ones, and grew only up to be 'as long as two fiends were tall'. So around 14 meters on average.
I was smaller than that, and Red Eye was clearly experienced. He was also stronger and bigger than me.
I still needed to kill him. My new duties prevented me from relocating into a different part of the forest, which means I will meet him again. I wasn't willing to become a parasite than relied on work of others while I waited for the bastard to die of old age.
My main advantages were range and speed. The creature, while moving faster than conventional physics would allow thanks to body reinforcement, was still slower than me, moving with outward glacial pace endemic to massive objects building momentum.
Burning him would be possible, if not for one problem. I wasn't equipped with a liquid-fueled flamethrower. My fiery breath, while exiting at impressive speed and pressure, didn't have anything solid to cling to, and started dispersing just around 6 meters. From what I saw my parents do, it got stronger with age, but for now it was only good as a deterrent, not a killing weapon.
I was unwilling to come that close to a creature with nearly 5 meter arm reach. I needed something else to kill him. I smiled. And I had just the thing to do it.
Slowly circling around, me and the beast started measuring each other, looking for an opportunity to strike. Old Red Eye was visibly confused why I was able to see, but while smart for an animal, he evidently wasn't smart enough to dismiss the ineffective illusion. It was when he placed his arm on a rotting log, which promptly gave out and made him stumble, did I see the opportunity to strike.
I leaped at his exposed flank, ten mage blades extending from my claws. Even with body reinforcements, his hide couldn't be harder than tank armor.
Attack, retreat, spin a decoy. Familiar, far too familiar feeling took hold on me as I focused on battle, a manic giggle escaping my throat as I hit myself with another dose of adrenaline and pain suppression formulas.
Red Eye answered in earnest, pretending to focus on my decoys, only to deliver a nasty backhand with his off-hand I momentarily lost track of, trying to get another swipe in.
But in the end, Red Eye was still just an animal, no matter how experienced. After five minutes of hit and run, he finally fell and didn't get up again, blood gushing from his deep wounds. A cocktail of hormones and formulas boiled in my brain, and I began to laugh in earnest, my throat letting out a booming cackle.
I survived! I won!
---
A roaring, thunderous sound reached the village, scaring all kobolds currently on the surface, who promptly ran to the burrows with practice dictated by necessity. As much as he feared her, shaman Obok prayed to the Gods for Tanya Degurechaff's fast return. Half an hour of waiting later, the brave scout left the burrows, only to report the village's ruler emerging from the edge of the forest.
Her whole body was tensing, slowly dragging a corpse more than twice her size.
A corpse, that as Obok got closer, started to look familiar.
"Red Eye is dead." Proudly proclaimed the dragon, a manic glint in her eyes.
Equall parts awe and fear, even as cheers erupted from around him, all the old shaman could think was: We are doomed. Our tribe will serve this mad beast for generations to come, all while she puts collars around our necks.