Hik eyed the collection of silver scales resting on his palm. Each had a digit '100' carved into it.
"So boss, how exactly does this work? The 'meat-for-scales' thing, I mean."
The dragon smiled, showcasing her pointy white arsenal. Boss was normally very stoic, and from what Hik learned about the silver dragon's body language, her actually grinning meant she was either in a very good mood, or somebody was about to be fucked over. Usually both.
"Well, it is quite simple, Hik. All currency has only as much worth as it is agreed on by market participants. For this trial run, said value will be 100 grams of meat per scale, its value backed by my administration."
"But I can't exactly eat those scales and be sated, can I?"
"No, but this is a resource backed currency. So, if you bring me the scales, I will exchange them for an appropriate amount of meat from my cooler. That way, it never loses its minimal value, as all creatures need to eat."
"Yeah, but terrorbeak meat is tastier and harder to get than, let's say, chicken one. How will that work?"
"It's a trial run, only for the sake of this market event. Far too simplistic to include things like quality benchmarks. And I provide most of the meat represented by the scales, so difficulty of acquisition is minimal."
Hik felt a little cheated. He took his new steel spear and hunted down a terrorbeak specifically for this event, bringing it to the boss. And while he got around eight hundred scales out of it, much more than the boss gave to others as 'pocket money', his hunt was worth more than forty measly chickens!
But eh, he won't argue with the silver dragon. She was now in the middle of a growth spur, all itchy and irritated. In a month since the green dumbass and his minions 'invaded' Earthmounds, she already grew an additional meter in length, shedding scales everywhere..
Seeing an opportunity, the boss decided to use these scales to make the 'currency' for the upcoming 'market'. Disturbing her excitement about it, and confronting an annoyed, nine meter long fairy dragon wasn't exactly how Hik envisioned his death. Better to let her have her 'commerce trial' in peace.
Said trial was organised in the middle of the village, around the new 'Dragonmelter Obelisk', a way to commemorate the boss's achievements. Hik got a few kicks out of watching that old codger Obok grimace the whole way it was constructed. The monument itself consisted of a four meter tall stone, with carvings depicting the victories of Tanya Degurechaff with a lot of room to spare. It was also lovingly decorated with amulets, dried flowers, not to mention the skulls and bones of her enemies.
Sadly, Hik's favourite ornaments had to be taken out, considering the village's new trading partner: goblins.
As it turns out, when you lose not only the dubious protection of a dragon overlord, but also most of your warriors, it becomes much harder to prevent your village from being overrun with predators. That the goblins responded to this crisis in a typical goblin fashion, by arguing and fighting, didn't help their situation either.
From what Hik understood, most wanted to hit the road and relocate. Good luck to them. Be it the surrounding forests, northern steppes, eastern marshes or southern hills they'll all get killed before finding a suitable location.
A smaller camp wanted to pledge themselves to the boss, as a way to gain her protection. They even nabbed much of their village's livestock as tribute to present to her... Which boss instead chose as wares to be traded on this 'market' thing. Hik really didn't understand why.
"Um, boss, may I ask you something? If the meat is yours, the scales are yours, and what the goblins bring is also yours, then what the hell are we exactly 'trading'?"
"What goblins bring isn't mine. I refused their pledge and gifts, instead suggesting they establish themselves independently on a nearby clearing down east. It has access to water and grazing lands, ideal for their livestock. It also presents an excellent opportunity for Vaira to gain experience in asset coordination, as I loaned her services to the new goblin government, in order to help them organize themselves, with my occasional advice."
Yeah, 'independent', 'coordinate' and 'advice'. Boss's words may sound pretty, but truth be told, regardless whether a goblin, kobold or dragon, when Tanya Degurechaff asks you to do something, you do it, even if it was framed as a 'suggestion'.
No skin off his teeth. While there was some pity to be found for the poor bastards, it quickly evaporated, as goblins in general were just that, pitiful. Their wares will probably be of the same 'goblin' quality.
Well, it was time to find out. The green gaggle arrived at the village gates with their 'advisor', miss Vaira.
"So boss, you going to greet them? Do I need to call Obok?"
"Don't worry about it. Kodur isn't the only language I am learning, and while my Draconic and Gobri are far from fluent, such things can be refined only with further practice. Should I require help, I will contact the elder personally."
Thank the Gods. Trudging around everywhere with a stone tablet around the neck got old fast.
"So, am I free to go?"
"Yes. But remember, that while I understand there is some degree of culturally enforced hostility between kobolds and goblins, I will not tolerate a diplomatic incident on my hands. Any conflict of interest is to be brought to me and miss Vaira for mediating. Be sure to relay that to your fellows."
"Yes boss."
'Culturally enforced', right. There was nothing cultural about the sour goblin stench Hik could smell from here, or the screeches of their tongue grating on his ears. No kobold wanted to trade with the green bastards, but even Hik could admit to lacking the courage to tell their overlord that her market was a terrible idea.
Well, it was important to make the most of a bad situation. Maybe he'll find some passable hunting equipment among the rubble the goblins called 'wares'.
The first item of interest Hik found among an assortment of poorly made pottery, trinkets and laughable stone tools, were gray-ish, malformed blocks of something smelling of animal fat and… flowers? Was this some sort of a goblin food?
Well, he doubted even goblins would be stupid enough to try to sell something poisonous to a subject of the dragon that killed their previous boss. He pointed at the snack, receiving one raised finger as a response. After giving the goblin the silver scale, he bit into his purchase.
And immediately regretted it, tasting nothing but flowery blandness that strangely bubbled in his mouth.
"Pueh! This shit tastes awful! What did you sell to me, you full body snot?!"
In return, he got rewarded with more screeching. Hik was about to deck the reprobate in his oversized schnoz, and take back his scale, but thought better of it as he saw the looming shadow of a dragon behind him.
"What seems to be the issue, Hik?"
"Well boss, that shits-, erm, goblin tried to sell me some sort of food. But it's inedible, awful and feels weird in my mouth! I want my scale back!"
Boss then heard out the slimy fucker, and responded "You are not supposed to eat it. This is soap, for washing both yourself and your clothes."
"A what now?"
"Soap. Goblins like to keep themselves clean, as even their fresh sweat is very… aromatic. I theorise it evolved as a defence mechanism in the swamps they say they hail from, to deter predators. Seems to be far less useful here, as it does the opposite."
"Goblins and cleanliness? You must be joking boss. If they wanted to keep themselves clean, they should use sand, like you or I. Also, e-vol-ve?"
"A term used in biological science, don't worry about it. Back to the topic at hand, goblins don't have scales, and they sweat, unlike dragons and kobolds, making sand baths something that makes them dirtier, not cleaner. It stands to reason our hygienical practices would differ."
"That's nice and all, but what am I supposed to do with this 'soap'?
"Take it. While its effect will be negligible on scales, it will keep your clothes much cleaner than merely washing it in water."
Hik moved his tongue, trying to rid himself of the flowery taste of the goblin cleaning product. If it was used to make them smell better, it did a pretty poor job. But eh, at least they tried to do something about it.
After a few more stalls with nothing of value, Hik started getting uncomfortable. A summer sun was glaring at him, making him regret leaving his cool burrow. Panting helped a little, but it still felt awful and hot. The goblins seemed much better off, but their odour raised in intensity. Better wrap this up quickly then.
Thankfully, he only wanted to check what goblin hunters and animal herders had to offer. More as entertainment than anything else, he doubted goblins could present him with anything that will make his hunting easier.
Most of what was offered was of low quality, just as he suspected. Stone spears, trap cages made from sticks and shabby bows. Only when Hik came across a hunter stall that sold animals for some reason, did he find anything of interest.
The goblin was selling small razormaws, or at least creatures looking a lot like them. Bipedal and feathered, the raptors were similar to the forest packhunters, with two key differences. The adults only reached up to Hik's shoulder, as opposed to the two meter tall terrors, and had flattened, triangular snouts instead of the powerful rectangular maws of their brethren. Hik never saw one such creature in the wild, so it must be not from around here.
He always was curious what a raptor would taste like anyway. So, he pointed at one, but instead of a hand gesture he got a drawing of the currency. Next to it was some goblin symbol Hik didn't know.
Thankfully, boss gave out small wooden tablets with most used goblin symbols on them. Hik checked it and...
Five hundred scales?! That's an equivalent of fifty kilograms of meat! He doubted this beast weighed half as much, bones and all! Yeah, no. Hik didn't know what the green moron was playing at, but it won't slide.
Boss was busy, looking all grumpy while miss Vaira scrubbed off the molting scales with her claws. So, sicking a dragon on the scammer was out. Thankfully, the animated fossil that posed as the village's shaman made two Kodur-Gobri Signs of Tongues for this event, one of which was currently free. He'll be able to personally tell the green stain what he thinks about his wares.
Placing the tablet on the stall he spoke "What the fuck you think this is?! I am not like one of the moron hunters from my village, who spend all day hunting, only to give away their prey in return for less than a half its weight! This thing has no more than ten kilos of meat on it, I ain't giving away four months worth of food just because what you sell is something exotic!"
The goblin actually looked offended at that "Not forrr eating, stupid lizarrrd! Companions, hunterrrs! Trrrained by me!"
"So wait, those aren't for eating?"
"Needleteeth friends, not food! Lizarrrd's empty head too stupid to underrrstand?"
Razormaws hunted in packs. Those… needleteeth were similar to them, so maybe they did too. But how dim a creature had to be to include a goblin in its pack?
"You said you trained them? What could one of your kind possibly teach such a creature?"
"Needleteeth smarrrt, smarrrterrr than lizarrrds! I teach them to watch overrr and warrrn the hunterrr, smell and find prrrey, chase it rrright into a trrrap! Do trrricks, enterrrtain, cuddle nearrr firrre. Lizarrrd's hearrrt too cold, and brrrain too small to do that."
Hik paid the insults of the green reprobate little mind, too focused on the perks of having a companion to hunt with. He could admit that having someone else watching his back had its merits. But he refused the company of other kobolds, since they had a tendency to insist on sharing the catches with the rest of the village. A single animal on the other hand, required only to be fed, leaving most of the prey to him.
And if a goblin managed to train them, it couldn't be that difficult. He was a much better hunter than any other kobold, never mind a goblin. Forget aiding in hunting, he'll teach his 'needletooth' how to sing and dance!
"Okay, goblin, you convinced me. I'll take one of your animals. I'm still not giving you five hundred scales for it. To you, an animal aiding in your hunts may be necessary, but I did fine on my own for years. Help holds much less value to me."
The goblin was about to say something, but stopped himself, and looked under his stall, a smile blooming on his face. "Then, forrr a lizarrrd hunterrr, a gift! A grrrown needlettoth, much cheaperrr forrr you." Saying that, he reached under the stall, and hefted up a caged, sleeping raptor. That was weird, the rest of them were merely on a leash. "This is Bastarrrd" the goblin continued "Strrrong! Vicious! And much time was... spent, on those trrraits. One hundrrred scales."
Hik was still not convinced, but at least now the animal's cost was less than its weight in meat. "Okay, still a little pricey, but I'll humor you." Saying that he reached to a pouch and fished out ten rings, ten scales each.
"Be warrned, lizarrrd. Bastarrrd may be… unfrrriendly, at firrrst."
But Hik was already hefting the cage with his purchase, thinking whether it was really worth it. Yeah, another pair of eyes was nice to spot whatever may sneak up on him, but that became a much lesser concern when boss started claiming hunting grounds around the village for herself and miss Vaira, preparing her larder for the market.
As a result, any predator bigger than a terrorbeak in a twenty kilometer radius around Earthmounds that was stupid enough to try and contest their territory with the silver dragon instead of running away had its carcass currently chilling in her cooler.
On one hand, it made the hunting much safer. And on one of his excursions to the forest, Hik saw goblins letting their eohips, or as the boss called them, 'tiny prehistoric horses', out to graze outside the protection of walls, with little to no worry.
On the other, he didn't envy anything that lived in the regions the hungry and scared predators migrated to.
---
On the edge of an overgrown dirt road, three men clad in scale mails over embroidered tunics sat on a fallen log, keeping watch over a small collection of tents, playing a game to pass the time.
"I spy with my little eye… Oh shit, is that a razormaw?"
"That's not how you play- oh, you aren't playing."
"It has something green-ish in its mouth."
"Maybe a goblin?"
"Goblins don't have tails. Prolly some lizard or some such."
"If there is one razormaw, there must be dozen others. Even if it is far away, we should really-"
But before the man could finish, an older, rugged individual emerged from the central tent.
"Okay boys, that's enough sightseeing. Pack the tents, we're hitting the road. We have a job to do."
"Aye, Sergeant!"
Mirsa smirked at the scrambling mercenaries, then yawned, feeling a bitter taste in her mouth. She wasn't one of the warriors, she shouldn't also have to wake up at dawn! Not to mention her back was sore. Sleeping bags, even ones padded with fur, had nothing on her real bed back in Ravuya.
But enough complaining, she also has her duties to attend to.
"Sergeant Khunon, I trust the priest and the civilians are well?"
"Yes, esteemed Magus. And please, even if you insist on courtesy, at least grant me the honor of calling me by my first name."
"Well then, Sergeant Atoc. Did their Eminency have no complaints?"
"No, my Lady, they slept in comfort, and I made sure to assign extra watch so that nothing tries sneaking into their tent."
"Excellent. Today we should be able to reach the Amyu village. Then, it's just a matter of doing our duties there, and after a five days trip back to the city, I, along with my entourage, will be out of your hair."
"Oh, I wouldn't complain at all if I had a fair lady of standing such as you as my companion on the Trail. And I'd feel safer to boot! Being able to rely on the might of a student of the aethereal arts is a rarity for small-timers like us."
"Your flattery is appreciated, but a life of adventure is not for me. I was born and raised in Ravuya, and won't give up the privileges of a city living even for the greatest fortunes the Trail could offer."
Sergeant Atoc smiled at that. "But wasn't it the Trail and adventurous spirit that led a band of vagabonds to the abandoned ruins that are now your beloved cave city?"
Mirsa scoffed, before she remembered her conversation partner was a man bearing the tattoos of the spirits of the Trail. She tried to deflect, masking her distaste at the topic with a fake smile. "Are you trying to convince me to join your warriors, Sergeant?"
Apparently, she wasn't very good at acting, as the old soldier immediately sought to explain himself in a rushed tone. "Far from it! I would never go against the scripture of Madram and try persuading anyone to take up arms, much less a woman! I just know that it treats the Magi differently, and I wouldn't be opposed to aid, should beasts ambush us on this journey. Those razormaws are a bad sign. But if my words offended you in any way, I shall immediately apologise."
Mirsa laughed, genuinely this time. "Don't worry sergeant, I am no priest nor an old matron. Mentioning a woman and a weapon in the same sentence won't launch a six hour lecture about the teachings of the Book of Swords. And don't worry, I was tasked by the Ravuya's council to use my talents to protect the priest and the traveling families, just as you did. I will come to your aid, should it be needed. I only warn you to measure your words around our escort."
The sergeant eyed the embroidered tent of the priest. "I will take this under advice, my Lady."
Mirsa cursed internally. She should really work on controlling her facial expression. She answered to the Ravuya's council, a slip up there could have severe consequences.
At least she could rely on the clergy still being the best way to scare anyone who touched a weapon even once in their life to escape the awkwardness. Regardless whether said fear was blown out of proportions.
Because, while the Book of Swords was one of the more strictly enforced parts of Madram, only the most sanctimonious of priests would try chastising a warrior that went through all the required rites for a minor slip up. Especially when he was merely worried about the lives of his men, as well as his own.
And even those the priests were far less benevolent towards weren't always stopped by their condemnation. It certainly didn't dissuade her brother, Arva, from running off with nothing but a spear and a shield into the parts unknown. He returned a year later, scarred, missing a leg and half of his face. Why he thought that he had a chance on the Trail, when all he fought previously was at worst an annoyed bat, she still had no idea.
As Mirsa eyed a collection of fresh prints of large hooves and knuckles in the dirt, left no doubt by a fiend, she wondered how many were less lucky than Arva. City children, bored by the safety provided by being hidden in the caves from the eyes of dragons and other beasts, sought adventure, fed the epic tales of brave heroes, treasure hunters and monster slayers. Only to meet their end with a singular flick of a monstrous claw or swipe of tail.
One thing she fully agreed with the warrior priests was that not the deeds, but the sacrifice of warriors should be exalted and cherished. Maybe then people like her brother wouldn't decide to go out 'adventuring', his head full of stories told by poetasters and old morons with too much free time. The Trail and the path of the sword, as spoken by the Prophet Wallha, was supposed to be treated with due gravitas. It was not supposed to be something snot-nosed brats took up for fun as 'adventurers', getting themselves killed.
"Is something troubling you, Magus?"
She turned around, seeing the priest, a short bald man with a pointy black beard, clad in simple travel robes. The plain mala beads, ending with an engraving of a pillar were the only thing that betrayed his status and the Virtue he chose to study.
"Sadly nothing you could help me with, your Eminency. Are you ready to continue our journey?"
"Yes, and the families we are traveling with are too."
"Well then, I advise both you and them to stay close to me and the warriors. The road bears the markings of many dangerous beasts, and straying too far could prove fatal."
---
Before, Mirsa was only somewhat worried about the safety of her escort. Now, she was afraid.
Something sinister was happening in the western forests. The traces left by the beasts were far too numerous to be a natural occurrence. And whatever could force creatures like fiends to flee meant trouble, potentially even for Ravuya itself.
Finally arriving at Amyu didn't help to reassure her. There was a giant hole in the village walls, its stones marked with flecks of dried blood. The livestock was nowhere to be found, and the villagers she saw were busy digging in the fields… in the middle of summer. As she got closer, it became obvious that the harvested vegetables were green.
One of the villagers was approaching them, palpable relief on his face. But before Mirsa could greet him, the barking of a guard dog transformed the man's expression from one of joy into terror.
As the villagers ran into the bunker, more of a relatively safe hole in the ground than anything else, Mirsa surveyed her surroundings. Nothing on the ground. But in the sky, there hung a winged silhouette of a hunting wyvern.
An elderly man tripped and fell. As he failed to get up a young woman started helping him, to no avail. Sensing an opportunity, the flying beast went into a dive, aiming its clawed legs at the fallen man.
"What are you morons standing around for?! SHIELDS UP!" Cried out Sergeant Atoc as he ran towards the villagers.
A few warriors followed him, while the rest surrounded their original escort. Raising their shields, painted with the faces of spirits and heads of various monsters, to the sky, the soldiers started yelling and roaring, making bestial noises to scare the monster off. Mirsa paid no attention to the display, too busy focusing on her scepter and crystal ball.
As she tapped into aether within her, she visualised the elemental matrix. First, octahedron for air, manifesting a shell at the tip of her scepter that tightly squeezed the gas. Next, tetrahedron for fire to turn inside of the forcefield into a roaring flame. Lastly, air again, to give the encapsulated inferno the push to reach the rapidly approaching beast. All bound together in a dodecahedron of aether.
The theumuric iron beads of an abacus arranged in a metal band around the quartz sphere zipped wildly, helping Mirsa in calculating the lengths and ensuring the symmetry of the polihedra. Her master always said that it was those equations that were the essence of magical theory, dismissing the elemental division itself as arbitrary and needlessly convoluted.
Arbitrary or no, it certainly helped in visualisation and the shaping of aether. The spell took less than a second to make, slamming into the wyvern before exploding with a loud bang. The magical beast's body enhancing magic prevented the fireball from ripping it apart, but nevertheless, what reached the ground was not the fearsome predator, but merely its broken body.
As the warriors cheered at the falling of the beast, Sergeant Atoc took command again. "No time for celebrating, boys. Ensure the fucker Lady Mirsa shot down is truly dead, and help the villagers. Some shit went down here and I don't like it one bit."
Mirsa couldn't agree more. While a flying monster trying its luck inside the village walls was just an unfortunate reality of living in the countryside, there were no local warriors standing watch over the working people. Judging by the state of the village's defences, she could wager a guess as to what happened to them.
---
The mayor of Amyu was a thin, neurotic woman. She welcomed Mirsa and the rest of the travellers to her underground stone chamber, thanking them and the Prophets the whole way through.
"We sent a messenger bat over three weeks ago. At this point, we lost all hope for any help reaching Amyu. It is truly the blessing of the Prophets that brought you here just in time to save one of ours."
The priest answered solemnly "Sadly, it was not the will of the messengers of the Gods that brought us here, but a misplaced letter. Your cry for help never reached Ravuya."
"Then why are you here, your Eminence?"
"We are here because of the message from over two months ago, one that claimed magically gifted twins were born here. Me and my escort arrived in Amyu to take them and their families back to the city, bringing volunteer families to take their place in return."
Saying that, he reached to his robes taking out a small piece of heavily damaged parchment. Barring the message itself, on the back of the parchment, 'God wills it' was written in a tiny script. Which God, Mirsa had no idea.
"I forgot it was even sent. Rest assured that even when facing this crisis, I made sure they all stayed hale and healthy. But, if you could answer me, your Eminency, why did it take so long for you to arrive in response to our letter?"
The priest scowled "A fault of an irresponsible scribe. The message, along with some other documents, was damaged due to his inattentiveness while he was delivering them. Rather than admit to his fault, the fool chose to hide them in hopes of escaping chastisement. Only when a priest was visiting his home on unrelated business and discovered the parchments, did his crime come to light."
"That is truly unfortunate. But thanks to the fool's folly, you managed to arrive here, just in time to save old Ussun from being devoured."
Now it was Mirsa's turn to speak. "And I noticed there was no warrior in Amyu itself to save him. What was their fate?"
The mayor now looked broken. "All gone, killed trying to save the village from a rampaging fiend... But their efforts were for naught. There was another. Together, the beasts smashed the wall, slaughtered our brave soldiers. We couldn't repair the damage. All our livestock, cows, eohips and chickens alike ran away, hunted down by razormaws. The eastern part of the village is overrun by kikimora, their queen making a nest in our food stockpile." The woman was quietly sobbing "We truly thought we were done for."
"I admit to not being an expert on monsters, but aren't fiends supposed to be solitary creatures?" Asked Sergeant Atoc.
"Aggressively so. They pair up only when mating or migrating." Answered Mirsa.
"And we saw a lot more monsters than we should have while traveling here. Tell me, your Eminence, esteemed Magus, what could cause such a beastly exodus?"
The priest nodded to Mirsa, prompting her to answer. "A couple of things. It could be a pair of green dragons, trying to feed an exceptionally large clutch. A truly powerful orc warband coming down from the steppe to prove themselves by hunting monsters. It could even be a new Dorv settlement, Prophets know they are insane enough to try settling in the middle of the forest."
"Dorvs, Lady Mirsa?" One of the soldiers accompanying Sergeant Atoc asked.
"A dwarven culture."
The soldier looked offended for some reason. "With all due respect, esteemed Magus, I must protest at that. I hail from Hiptu, the village near the city of Gohett, and lived among a few dwarves. Diligent workers, unrivaled when it came to working with the soil. And while their holiday where they wear red pointed caps to scare away evil spirits is strange, I wouldn't call them insane."
Another soldier added "Well, I come from the mining village of Pigburn-"
"Pigburn?" Asked the Amyu's mayor.
"Yes my lady, Pigburn. The spirit of our village is a giant fire-maned hog. I am from there and met some dwarves as well. They sold fantastic mining tools. A little too vindictive and obsessed with gold and writing, but fair in a rough sort of way."
Mirsa sighed. "No, no, those are the Gnomes and the Davi, completely different from the Dorvs."
"How different, my Lady?" Asked one of the soldiers.
"Would you consider yourself kin with the Iwzam people?"
Almost everyone in the chamber grimaced at that "Absolutely not, esteemed Magus! I cannot imagine being as spineless as those lizard worshippers, bending the knee to a dragon just because it allegedly saved one of their cities from a 'rampaging avatar of winter'."
"Well then, the same goes for Gnomes and Davi regarding Dorvs. They are supposedly all half insane, requiring alcohol to even function. That they believe themselves slaves to the will of a forge god of blood and chaos should tell you all you need to know about them. Their only saving grace are their amazing works of art."
"Like the Crown of Kings in the Ravuya's council house?" Asked Sergeant Atoc with a smirk.
Mirsa chuckled. "Yes, the one made entirely from chicken bones and cow leather. It's still the most beautiful treasure in the city's possesion."
The priest interrupted any further lecture on dwarves. "While truly enlightening, esteemed Magus, we strayed from the topic at hand. Namely, helping the village of Amyu in its plight. Some of us should return to Ravuya, and bring back food and more warriors to ensure its survival."
Mirsa shook her head. "Even if armed to the teeth, the walls of the village are damaged. Trying to defend this settlement would be very hard. I have a better suggestion."
The priest raised an eyebrow. "Namely?"
"As we can't trust the messenger bats, I and you, your Eminence, will return hastily with minimal escort back to the city, while Sergeant Atoc and his men ward off the encroaching monsters. It is risky, but with my protection I believe we will be able to make it safely."
"And then?"
"Between me answering directly to the council and you, your Eminence, being a priest of the Pillars, we should have no trouble swaying the councilors into accommodating the refugees from Amyu. Then, more warriors will be sent to escort them safely into the city."
"And what about the village itself?"
Mirsa didn't like the words she had to say next. "The council will look into reclaiming the village. No doubt, they will hire 'adventurers' to do so."
While Ravuya could spare the soldiers to retake Amyu, it won't be safe until the thing that caused the monsters to stir in the first place was dealt with. Scouting the forests is far too dangerous to risk losing their trained warriors who passed the rites on.
So, instead they will send expendable romantics and fools from all over the lands of the Tchenmi, luring them with the promise of adventure and glory. Mirsa tasted bile even thinking about it. But she had no illusion it will be done. The council had to know what they were facing, and needed an inexpensive way to do so.
And who knows who else suffered from whatever made the forests its home, and what matter of monsters the disturbance could attract.
---
Skarbek looked into the sky, seeing a wyvern circling the last proper goblins of Grotniks. He knew it was over. Too weak to run, with nothing or noone good for a distraction. They will die, lost somewhere on the steppes.
But the creature, instead of catching one of the not many surviving goblins, landed near their tents.
Something big was on the back of the six meters long monster, wearing warm furs, a shiny helmet and a scarf on their face. The cloth was removed, showing a pair of really big tusks.
"Now den, here'z somefin' ya don't see e'ry day." The rider spoke in Gobri, the tusks giving them an unmistakable accent unique to orcs. "Whot are da gobbos doin' here, bravin' the steppes all on deir own?"