Even with thermal regulation formulas at full throttle, the heat was unbearable. I felt fire slowly overcoming my defenses. But I had no choice but to resist it, not if I wanted my plan to succeed.
Finally, the formula I used to measure heat stabilised, and I got steady readings. I hastily took my tail out of the furnace.
"How did we do?"
"Well, master Armak, I am happy to say this is our best work yet. 1 671 degrees Celsius, well above the melting point of iron. I believe we found the design we will be using going forward."
"Then I'll immediately instruct my smiths to start working on the new smelters."
"Haste makes waste, master Armak. Focus on one furnace at a time, make sure they are up to our standards."
"Understood."
When I first proposed to help in creating smelting furnaces that would replace the primitive bloomeries, the chief smith was sceptical. Only when I mentioned the prospect of fully melting iron, did he start to listen. Now, after two weeks of tweaking and testing, he could barely contain his impatience as we slowly reached the goal of making a furnace capable of doing so.
I was proud of myself. I might not be able to recreate a smelting furnace from memory, but thanks to my understanding of the scientific method and thermodynamics, essential for an aerial mage, I was able to direct the efforts of local professionals, and 'invent' one.
My end goal weren't the furnaces themselves, however. No, what I wanted was to recreate crucible steel. Which, considering that I had no idea in what proportions to mix coal and iron, will still take some time. But I was willing to wait, especially for such an incredible technological leap.
Historians often compared the progress from iron to steel to exchanging an early musket for a gas operated gun. An incredible improvement that resulted in better, more versatile armanents.
Just what I needed in order to create better weapons to defend my new employees from the threats they faced. Mainly magically doped monsters, which if I were entirely honest, were far too numerous. How intelligent societies evolved on this death world, I had no idea.
I could theoretically defend the village myself, but just like in the business world, overreliance on the skills of one individual was a great way to bring a company down. That, and I was used to having meatshields, not being one.
And speaking of meatshields, at some point I'd have to start drafting a curriculum for kobold mages. Their current methods of learning were… empirical, which greatly limited their repertoire. Barring shaman Obok, there were seven other individuals capable of using magic in any meaningful way. None, bar the aforementioned elder, could do more than use body reinforcement, thermal regulation and reflex enhancements.
But to teach them imperial spellcraft, first I had to teach them math. And I didn't consider myself an especially good teacher, nor did I enjoy watching others fumble around trying to understand something that should be obvious.
So, to combat this, I planned to introduce kobolds to the wonders of standardized teaching. And here, their methods of reproduction were my greatest allies.
Kobolds were oviparous and didn't produce milk, which meant baby-making was a done and done affair. Incredibly beneficial, in that kobold women didn't have to carry around their little spawn for nine months, nor spend a year afterwards with them glued to their chests. Instead, they laid their eggs, and went back to being productive members of society, only checking if their hatchery remained at steady temperature.
And unlike humans, kobold children were born fully mobile, able to eat solid food and capable of comprehension. A three year old was fully expected to be able to walk, talk, follow complex instructions and help the adults in their work. By comparison, at that age, many human children still pissed their pants, and were barely capable of comprehensive communication.
I planned to take full advantage of this. Already, I instructed elder Kamik to compile a manual that included basic math, the rules of kobolds' written language, and the basic knowledge behind each craft the villagers partook in. After it is done, patriarch Hurk will select kobolds who best got along with children, and make them familiarize themselves with it. Those will be the first kobold teachers.
After that, by moving kobold working age from three to five, I could dedicate a whole year to teaching whelps how to read, write, add and subtract. Another year would be then dedicated to division and multiplication, as well as divining their individual talents. By learning the theory behind the many jobs of the village, followed by short internships in each of them, I hoped to divine their aptitude and assign jobs appropriately.
Since the tribe had workers to spare, the sudden deprivation of a young workforce won't even impact its overall productivity. And by making an average villager work more, their contributions will be greater, increasing their value as individuals. I would lie if said this concept wasn't incredibly appealing. It spoke to me on a fundamental level.
My end goal was the formation of the first cadre of specialists, ones that will continuously improve their craft, creating the professional standard. And those who were discovered to hold mage potential would then be taught further in math, physics and modern magic theory.
But that was a long term plan. For now, I didn't even know how kobolds screened for mages, nor the age it was done at. I wanted to ask shaman Obok, but he spent the last two weeks holed up in his burrow, immersed in some magical craft.
With nothing better to do, I decided to listen to my body's base urges, and go eat something.
---
If I was still a human, I'd describe Red Eye's flesh as the most disgusting meat in the world. It combined the worst qualities meat could have; It came from a predator, giving it a distinct pungent taste. It came from an uncastrated male, and was as such soaked in testosterone, contributing to the rank smell and aftertaste. And it came from an old animal, making it chewy, stringy and unappetising.
Thankfully, while my taste became stronger, not weaker, my palate changed considerably. I've eaten frozen flesh, decomposing corpses and raw bones. And while I could identify absolutely everything that should make me retch, the biggest reaction my diet elicited in me was a tastebud equivalent of a shrug. Apparently, when you consumed around sixty kilo of food a day, you couldn't exactly be picky.
It was very hard to find a meal that I'd find inedible, and even the most basic of actions, such as roasting the meat, made for a positive change. And kobold cuisine, while simple, could do much more than just roast.
At first, I was unwilling to share in my quarry. The urge to just keep it all for myself was surprisingly strong, stronger than I'd expect. But I wasn't really surprised. After all, it was I who killed Red Eye, and I who dragged his corpse to the village. Sharing my earnings with others, without any clear benefits, ranked me as a believer of capitalistic principles.
Thankfully for the kobolds, there were clear benefits of sharing my kill. Alone, I could at best cook the meat using either thermal regulation formula, or my fiery breath. They had access to salt, seasoning and experience in preparing large quantities of food.
That was a great way to introduce the tribesmen to basics of resource and refining-based economy. I, as a provider of the raw resource, commissioned the kobolds on 'kitchen duty' to refine said resource into the desired end product. I then bought the refined product under the promise of share in the resulting profits. Since in this analogy said 'profits' were the caloric gains, that meant that an agreed share of the food, 50% for the sake of easy calculation, went to the village.
I wasn't really proud of it, because without currency, the transaction was primitive and inelegant. But since everyone benefited, at least I appealed to the principles of enlightened self-interest, the basis of every modern economy.
The confused looks I got from locals told me everything about their long road to true capitalistic values. And speaking of locals, they finally arrived with my food.
"I thank you for your patience, my Lady. I pray that today's stew will be to your liking."
Kobolds weren't the most imaginative cooks, but considering their methods of preserving food, they had little choice.
Most of the fiend's lean meat was smoked. Salt and herbs were rubbed on the meat, which then was put in smokeries. Some of it was instead sun-dried, mainly the cuts too low in fat content to trust it to smoke properly. The rarest, choicest cuts with even distribution of fat was dry-aged, taken to a cooler maintained by kobold mages by cooling large stones and dumping them in an underground chamber with regular airflow. A luxury good reserved for only the most important of occasions.
I maintained a substantially larger cooler myself, although one focusing on merely preserving the two and a half tonnes of meat gotten from the predator. After two weeks, even with the fact that an individual kobold ate a quarter of the food an average human consumed, between their large number and my appetite, only around 800 kilograms remained.
I consumed my stew, more drinking from the three large wrought iron pots than chewing, while I surveyed the village.
On the surface it looked to be nearly empty. Kobolds mostly worked underground, so the only villagers outside were either overseeing the chickens, or the smiths and workers building the new smelters.
The pleasant image was ruined by the newest addition to the village, smacked in the middle of the settlement. A shrine made out of Red Eye's bones, with his skull and a large stone as it's centerpiece.
I grimaced. On the stone laid a freshly carved image of a dragon ripping out a fiend's middle eye. I was told that the inscription below read: 'The Slayer of Balor-Mor' in kobold scripture. It reminded me too much of the propaganda pieces I had to pose for. And I had no idea what this 'Balor-Mor' was.
I saw Hik emerging from the burrow. Considering that I instructed him to inform me when Obok has finished doing whatever he was so occupied with, it meant the old shaman was done, and I'll get some answers.
---
Obok tried to keep his breath steady. This was the most important part of the creation process, using resources inherited from the village founders, irreplaceable considering what village was capable of.
A needle made out of theumuric iron slowly slid into its opening in the clay vessel. Obok pushed a small mote of will, feeling it resonate within metal specifically treated to conduct it.
Once inserted it was time for the last piece of the puzzle. A small bead of polished quartz, repeatedly immersed in will to retain magic, was placed on top of the hole made for the needle, sealing the opening. A small clay disk was then placed on top of that.
"Nitk, if you would?" With these words, the smith who volunteered to help shaman Obok with creation of the artifact placed a red-hot iron band in place where the disk and the vessel proper met, using a small hammer to hammer it into sealing the gap.
Now, for the moment of truth. The shaman focused on the crystal, feeding it will, which then was conducted by the theumuric needle to the red eye contained within the vessel. The magical glyphs activated, and the eye flashed with baleful light, black smoke billowing out of it to cover the room in darkness. Only when the shaman sucked all the will out of the artifact, did the smoke disperse and he was able to see again.
"It is done! Gaze, young Nikt, on the first true artifact of the Earthmounds' tribe!"
"I'm sure the boss will be ecstatic." Came a voice that irritated the shaman to no end.
"What are you doing here, Hik?"
"The boss wanted me to fetch you as soon as you're done with your magical mumbo-jumbo. Now come along, the dragon lady wants to see you."
Such impudence! The creation of a magical artifact is a historical event, and this snot nosed brat dares to call it 'mumbo-jumbo'! Where did he even learn that word?!"
"Yes Hik, I'm coming. I'm sure what our fair Lady wants is infinitely more important than a feat that will go down in our history."
"Not my room to judge. Lady wishes to ask a question, so you answer. I'm sure she will then let you play with your toys."
Obok scoffed. That ignorant cretin seemed purposefully dismissive of the magnitude of his achievement. Well, his loss. And Obok will have time for proper ceremonies. For now, it was time to appease the dragon tyrant's curiosity.
---
The dragon was standing before the shrine the townsfolk erected in her honor, a sour expression clouding her features. No doubt she was disappointed at its size. Obok was against creating it at all, but didn't dare to oppose a dragon as versed in magic as Tanya Degurechaff.
"What do you wish to ask me, my Lady?"
"Ah, elder Obok, it is nice to finally see you again. I wish to inquire about the methods you use to find mage potential in the townsfolk, and the age of testing. It is important for my future plans."
"Well, lady Tanya, there is a special concoction that resonates with the will within a mage's body. As it is quite toxic, only a drop of it is served during the Rite of Dragons, when a kobold finally sheds their childhood scales and becomes an adult."
"I presume that only the most powerful awaken to such a rite?"
"It is as you say, my lady. Now, if you excuse me, there are duties I must attend to."
"Just a moment, if you would, esteemed elder. What exactly were you working on, if you pardon my curiosity?"
Obok didn't want to tell the dragon about the artifact, as the reptile would no doubt add it to her hoard, depriving the village of incredible treasure. But he couldn't lie to Degurechaff, her nose would undoubtedly sense it.
"Nothing a Lady of your stature should concern herself with. Merely a trinket, one that would harness the power of the beast you so easily slain."
But it seemed mere flattery wasn't enough, as the dragon's eyes dilated in curiosity. "And what does it do?"
The shaman sighed. "Allow me to demonstrate, my Lady. Hik, fetch me the artifact, but be careful with it!"
After receiving the requested item, Obok continued. "It uses the power of the beast you have slain to call for the Fomorian mists, shrouding everything around it in impenetrable darkness." Saying that, Obok pushed his will into the artifact again, and the magical smoke poured out of it again. "I was thinking of calling it 'The Eye of Balor', as a way to honor your triumph, my Lady."
"Fascinating. I am curious about the creation process. But more than that, I wish to ask you something. What is 'Balor', and how is it connected to 'Balor-Mor'?"
"Balor is a goblin god, one that opposed the first kobold's, Byrnak, rise to godhood. He is the ruler of the fairy giants, Fomorians, and his baleful eye is said to be able to blind and reduce even a mighty dragon into a writhing, blighted mass."
"And Balor-Mor?"
"One of his many shadow beasts, given flesh to blight the world with their presence. Red Eye was one such, bringing misfortune and death to our village."
"So the shrine…"
"A celebration of the triumph of the brilliant child of Alhattra on the beast of Balor. A true symbol of your divine heritage."
A strange rictus grin bloomed on the dragon's snout. "Most fascinating… I will inquire more about the process of the artifact's creation later. But for now, it is finally time I, ah, live up to my heritage, and learn how to fly. I will not take your time anymore, elder Obok. As you said, you have important duties to attend to."
The dragon then spread out her wings, and after a few awkward flaps took to the skies in an unsteady manner. A strange chuckle escaped her throat as she took off.
Evidently, appealing to her pride was enough, as she didn't demand the artifact be given to her. Happy that the tribe didn't lose such a treasure to the dragon's greed, Obok returned to his burrow in order to perform proper ceremonies.
---
Laughing bitterly at the idiocy of it all, I took to the air. Something I didn't want to do, as it attracted attention. But at that moment, I'd do anything to escape confronting the elder about kobolds' worship of me.
"I can't believe this! The kobolds seemed pretty laissez-faire about their religion! And then, out of nowhere, an altar! Just because they believe some animal to be a servant of an evil god!"
I could just run. Disappear into the woods, and be rid of this whole nonsense. But what would I do then? Spend my days napping and hunting? In the village I at least had something to do.
And it spoke poorly of a professional who quit just because he didn't like his work environment. Especially if the quirks of his coworkers were ultimately harmless. The kobolds had the potential to become a great civilization, once they reject the mores of religion and tribal communism.
"If only there was an easier way to get where I want. Alas, my- Oh shit! A tree!"
A local pinetree deigned to rudely remind me that I was, in fact, flying. And quite badly at that.
It had to do with the fact I was used to a completely different way of flying. An aerial mage simply applied a vector of force on themselves to fly through the air. If one was confident in their reinforcement and inertia-dampening formulas, they could turn on a dime by simply changing the vector's direction.
Dragons flew more like commercial airliners, their propulsion systems strapped to their wings. On the plus side, I didn't have to flap my wings much, feeling the currents of force propelling me forward. On the negative, it was much more awkward and limited than what I was used to.
Out of curiosity, I closed my wings and applied the flying formula I was used to. I quickly regretted it, as without the efficiency my mana-conductive wing membrane provided, the formula rapidly started cannibalizing my mana reserves, no matter how prodigious. Still, in short bursts, it could considerably increase my maneuverability. I'd have to continue testing this.
---
Below, in a different part of the forest, a small green shape ran towards a cave.
Once inside, it spoke to another of its green brethren. "Wake Masterrr-Majesty! Rrred Eye den empty! Rrred Eye gone!"