by Eric Ugland
And drank more coffee.
Then I had second breakfast.
I was turning into a fucking hobbit.
49
I headed to the council meeting room and was the second one to arrive. The first, obviously, was Nikolai.
“Good morning, your grace,” he said, not looking up from the sheaf of papers before him.
“Morning,” I said. “Did you find out anything last night?”
“Quite a few things,” he said.
I sat down next to him.
“Anything important?” I asked.
“Nothing Vuldranni-shattering, no.”
“Time sensitive?”
“Perhaps. I did not find anyone who admitted to missing four members of their party, nor did I notice any empty rooms. Or, rather, my people did not notice empty rooms.”
“So these guys came through the tunnel last night. Or snuck over the wall—”
“I think it more likely they glommed onto the Northwoods group and slunk off to hide once they got inside. I have greater concern about the events around the four assassins. How did they know you would be outside?”
“They probably assumed I’d go outside at some point.”
“Certainly. But how did they know to attack whilst there was loud music playing and your guard were otherwise occupied?”
“You think there are more people involved?”
“I have to. Did you go outside of your own volition?”
“Yeah, I got hot.”
“No one convinced you that going outside was a good idea?”
I shook my head.
“Although,” I said, “I did have an odd encounter with the Northwoods boy.”
“Which one?”
“Lord Northwood’s son. The one we thought worked with Caticorix to kidnap his father, kill his sister, get him control of this county up here.”
“Ah. That one.”
“Justin Northwoods.”
“I wonder if someone tasked him with getting you out to the balcony.”
“I mean, I went out on my own.”
“Sure, but what if the signal for the attack was the Northwoods boy speaking with you? The assassins could see you on the balcony with Northwoods, and then knew the louder song would be coming. They knew to attack when the boy headed back inside. Then, they would have the length of that song to complete their kill and hide.”
“That’s pretty insidious on the part of Justin.”
“So is plotting to kill your sister to ensure you receive a title.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
“Don’t we?”
“He claims innocence.”
“Of course he does.”
“Maybe he’s an unwitting pawn in this scheme.”
“You may continue to see the potential good in him, and I will continue to see reality.”
I leaned back in my chair, balancing on two legs.
“I’d like a celestial weapon,” I said.
“It’s a bit late for a shopping trip anywhere,” Nikolai said. “Shall I just magic one out of thin air for you?”
“You can do that?”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“Well, that’s annoying.”
“So are impossible requests.”
The rest of the council started making their way into the room, most chatting with another, some bringing in coffee or bits of breakfast. Before long, we were ready to go.
Nearly everyone looked sleep-deprived.
“Good morning,” Nikolai said. “We are almost at the point where we might rest for a night.”
“A long night,” Harmut said.
“Hear hear,” Timurlan replied.
“Wait until your turn to complain,” Nikolai said, but he was smiling, so I think he understood that sometimes people just needed to vent a little. “Harmut, how is expansion going?”
“Well,” Harmut said. “It goes well. The eating hall for Fiends’ Night is finished, as is the ballroom.”
“Finished finished?”
“Fiends’ Night finished. It still needs some polish work, and decorations would be good, but both are functional.”
“Excellent. Sleeping quarters?”
“We’re still pushing for those,” Harmut said. “New guests put a bit of a crimp in that. We had to ask a number of residents to move out temporarily so Northwoods and company could move in.”
“Wait,” I said, “that’s not right.”
“There’s compensation involved,” Nikolai said, putting a hand up.
Timurlan nodded. “Mostly the battenti clan, who seemed happy to be back in their carriages for Fiends’ Night.”
“Outside?” I asked.
“Outside inside, on the farms.”
“The farms must be crowded.”
“Centaurs, rolegurdaüdi, battenti, cattle, sheep, pigs, goats, chickens. The list goes on.”
“Do they all get along?”
“I have some concerns about the rolegurdaüdi,” he said. “They are gentle giants, very caring, but this seems very new for them. I am not sure, um, how everything happened with them, because it seems they should be apex predators, but, oh, nevermind...”
“What?” I asked.
“Gentlemen,” Nikolai interrupted, “I do not wish to seem like I am not intrigued by your observations of the enormous killing machines living on our farm, but is it germane to our preparation of MountainHome for Fiends’ Night?”
“No,” Timurlan said, looking almost relieved that he didn’t have to finish his thought.
“Are we still short on rooms and beds?” Nikolai asked, pen hovering above his notebook.
“Yes,” Harmut said. “Although some of that is based on kobolds bein’, pardon me, but kobolds bein’ kobolds. I know they be diggin’ out their own tunnels of late, and likely their own burrows and rooms.”
“Devoid of any plan?”
“Aye, that seems to be the case.”
Nikolai’s eyes swept the table. “Where’s Baltu?”
There was an empty chair at the far end.
“I’ll go look,” I said.
“Your grace,” Nikolai started.
“You guys are more than competent to get Fiends’ Night going, and the kobolds like me better than any of you.”
“The lad makes a good point,” Harmut said.
I winked at Nikolai, then summoned a prinky and plopped him into my chair.
“Take notes,” I said.
The prinky looked around a minute, very confused, then snatched Nikolai’s notebook, and handed it to me.
“Literal,” I said, returning the notebook to my chancellor, “but not exactly what I meant.”
Then I left.
50
Finding kobolds is never a simple task. A kobold takes to hiding like a Browns player takes to losing. Though to be fair, it’s not like the Lions are much better.
But I knew where I could always find at least one kobold.
The main cantina was enormous, with plenty of tables, several pillars in place to provide some division of the room, and, along one wall, a giant buffet of food. And close to the buffet, you’d almost always see a table full of kobolds. Not necessarily because they were hungry — they just seemed to think that this endless free food source might shut down, so they needed to eat as much as possible before that terrible, inevitable moment. But it wasn’t like it was always the same kobolds. It definitely seemed like it was a job amongst the kobold community: to eat at the buffet.
On that morning, or mid-morning, I found two tables of kobolds, all chowing down.
I sat down and looked at the little dragon people.
The entire group stopped mid-chew to look up at me.
“Hi guys,” I said, in draconic.
“You grace,” one of them replied.
“That’s me,” I said just as I realized he might have been trying to say ‘your grace.’ “I was wondering, where do you guys live?”
The kobold
s kind of frowned. They looked at each other, then back at me. A shorter, pudgier one with a red sheen to her scales poked the one that had spoken first.
“Here,” the first speaker said. “We live here.”
“I know you live in Coggeshall, but where in Coggeshall?”
“MountainHome?”
“It’s not a quiz,” I said, “I’m not testing you, I’m trying... do you know where Baltu is?”
“Baltu?” one of the kobolds, who had some really neat black spikes running down his back, said. “I know Baltu.”
“Where is Baltu?” I asked.
“Come!” the little kobold with the black spikes said as he hopped up from his seat. “Come!”
He raced along, moving faster than I thought kobolds could. I actually had trouble keeping up with him. At least when it came to weaving through the tables and the people trying to get their breakfast. Or lunch. Or whatever.
Down through the corridors, down a staircase, around a few corners, down another staircase, then up a staircase, and I was in a part of MountainHome I had not yet encountered.
We came to a large open room with smaller hallways running off it. But when I say smaller, I mean smaller in every way. Most all of Coggeshall’s hallways and tunnels and corridors were roughly the same size, so everyone could use them and so carts and wagons could fit down tunnels. These were the first tunnels I’d seen that were not full-sized.
I had to crouch and squeeze a little to follow the black spiky kobold. It was not comfortable, and I worried a little about getting myself back out, especially because I could tell these tunnels were not made to the same exacting standards as the others, and that meant the size was variable, and I was getting a spot where—
I got stuck.
“Fuck,” I said.
I braced myself against the walls and shoved backward.
For a moment, I thought I might need to call for some butter, but luckily I popped a little, and had some freedom.
“Just bring Baltu out,” I called to the little kobold.
He looked over his shoulder at me, confused.
“Out?”
“Out there,” I said, doing my best to point behind me to the open room. “I can’t fit through here.”
“Ah,” he said, smiling. Then he was off again.
I pushed myself back to the central open room.
Kobolds were staring at me.
I smiled and waved.
Not much reaction. Just sustained, mouths agape, staring. I imagined it had to be how rock stars felt when they visited fans at their homes unexpectedly. Which you know, kinda cool, but mostly it just made me feel awkward. I was glad my beard was finally covering some of my face. I was tired of everyone seeing me blush.
Moments passed, my presence got old, and the kobolds went back to their lives. Sure, plenty still watched me, but gone was the slack-jawed staring. Until, you know, one came out from their kobold tunnels and saw me, and then that one would stare, or sometimes go back down their tunnels and bring out some friends. I really wanted to point out that they lived with me and they could see me nearly any time they wanted.
Finally, I sat down and leaned against a wall.
That seemed to make some kobolds more comfortable.
A few came up and quietly introduced themselves.
“Keg.”
“Chod.”
“Shreddu.”
“Ghreindris.”
Each time, I introduced myself back as “Duke Montana of Coggeshall.” Then I’d shake their claw. They seemed to get a big kick out of it, and I enjoyed the moment as well.
After who knows how long, Baltu emerged from his tunnel, following the little kobold with the black spikes. Baltu looked tired. Or he looked old. Or both. Maybe he just looked particularly old and tired that morning.
“Your grace,” he said, hurrying over to me. “I was asleep — what might I do?”
“Council meeting,” I said.
“Bother, that is right now?” He patted himself down, feeling in the various pockets on his robes until he found what he was looking for and pulled on a small chain. A medallion came out, and the snowbold peered at it. “It is. Bother and bother again.”
“No big deal,” I said.
“To be fetched by the duke himself?” he said, looking aghast. “That is a terrible error. I am most embarrassed.”
“Bah, you clearly needed the sleep.”
“I apologize again, your grace.”
“Was that a pocket watch?” I asked while I got to my feet.
“This?” he pulled the medallion out and held it out. “I suppose you could consider it a pocket watch.”
I took a closer look. It was a golden disc, but some gold was darker than the rest.
“It shows the progress of night across the day,” he said. “Or the reverse, depending on how one chooses to look at things.”
“That’s amazing,” I said.
“Somewhat common among kobolds,” he said, “common enough, I suppose, I did not think you would lack one. Very useful for those of us who spend a lot of time underground. Shall we go?”
“Sure,” I said. “but there’s definitely going to be some talking at this meeting.”
“I imagine there is talking at all the council meetings.”
“I meant about your home here.”
“My home?”
“The kobolds.”
He stopped and looked up at me. “It is time then?”
“Time for what?”
“Our removal?”
“Removal from what?”
“Coggeshall.”
“Not at all! You guys just need to follow the plans for building. And make your damn tunnels bigger. You know I got stuck?”
“You got stuck?”
“Trying to get to your room, dammit.”
“I would have paid to see that.”
“We can go recreate the scene right now if you’ve got some extra gold.”
“Is the holding that desperate for money?”
“I’ve got hoarding tendencies.”
“I have heard. So we are not in danger of being exiled from the community?”
“No. Never. This is your home. But you’re a part of Coggeshall, which means you need to stop acting separate from us and be a part of the community. So fix your damn tunnels. And meet with Harmut to make sure you are all building on the plan.”
“Why do we need to plan?”
“Do you want him to build a latrine pit through your bedroom accidentally?”
Baltu shook his head, but then he nodded. “That is an excellent point. I will arrange for our projects to halt until we can meet with Harmut.”
“Remember, he’s in charge. Which means if he says no, that means no. You can come to me if it’s important, and we can revisit it, but you are on the council so you can give kobolds a voice. And that means you need to take part in things.”
“You are right, Montana.”
“Rare to hear that.”
“No need to be down on yourself.”
“Come on,” I said. “I’m sure Nikolai wants to yell at you.”
“Well, now I am excited for the council meeting.”
51
There was some yelling, but more surprising, some disappointment on behalf of the dwarves. And the humans. No one had realized how afraid the kobolds were of being thrown out, and I had to reassure Baltu several times that me, the duke, the one ultimately in charge, had their back, and they were home. Then Harmut said something similar. Followed by Nikolai and then every other member of the council. The kobolds were home.
And everyone laughed at the thought of me getting stuck in a tunnel.
Even me.
“Fiends’ Night food levels are excellent,” Timurlan. “Northwoods brought along an impressive amount of food, far more than his compliment will consume. It might very well be an attempt to bolster our own winter stores without being overt about things.”
“Shit,” Nikolai said.
“Always happy to have good news,” I said.
“It means he wants something.”
“Likely his daughter not to starve.”
Timurlan pointed at me, while Nathalie nodded.
“Perhaps, but I am wary,” Nikolai said.
“Part of your job,” I said.
“Guards are prepared. A watch list has been drawn up, and we feel confident we are ready for Fiends’ Night,” Nathalie said. “The Legion will be suited up and on standby if there are any large issues.”
“Sleeping in armor?” Nikolai asked.
“That is what Captain Czubakowski promised. They will be our quick reaction force to any point in the Home.”
“Do we have a list of windows and doors?” Nikolai asked.
“Yes,” Nathalie said, and slid a piece of paper over to him.
Nikolai glanced over it.
“There are more here than I thought,” he mused.
“Quite a few folks in here who seem to think they need to see daylight every day,” Harmut said grumpily.
“Humans,” Baltu said dismissively.
Harmut nodded emphatically. “Almost as bad as the elves, they are.”
“And we have guards for each entrance?”
“Anything that’s publicly accessible, yes,” Nathalie said. “But that is stretching our guard very thin. Hence the Legion standing by.”
“You think something is going to sneak in?” I asked.
“Nothing can really sneak in,” Nikolai said, “but there is always the chance someone will sneak out. Or get tempted and let something in.”
I saw a few confused looks around the table, likely wondering why I didn’t know this shit, so I nodded like I understood exactly what Nikolai meant.
“I am starting to think we might actually get through Fiends’ Night with few ill effects,” Nikolai said, showing off a rare smile as he closed his notebook.
The prinky popped up and snatched his notebook and handed it to me.
Nikolai stopped smiling.
52
Nikolai escaped to his office quickly after the meeting, but I caught up to him. And so had the prinky. When I walked in, Nikolai was holding his notebook high in the air, out of reach of the jumping and clearly frustrated prinky.
