Chapter Seventeen: Frasier Inuit

This tribe of kobolds possessed only the most primitive ironworking skills and seemed to lack any other noteworthy technology; they did not even wear clothes, appearing more savage than the kobolds Leo had imagined. Yet, they owned numerous finely woven wicker baskets and linen sacks crafted with admirable skill in weaving. Even in Leo’s own village, few women displayed such deft handiwork.

Leo refused to believe these were the kobolds’ own handiwork.

The husky-faced kobold stared at Leo, mouth agape, but said nothing.

At once, Leo’s vigilance sharpened—this was precisely why he was reluctant to simply let the kobold tribe go. Of course, he wished to eradicate the threat posed by this kobold settlement so close to Riverbend Camp, but a hundred kobolds fighting to the death would be like a hundred organized wolves—not so easily dealt with. After a bloody struggle, the militia would surely suffer heavy losses. Moreover, in his fifty-strong band, half were barely more capable in combat than the kobolds themselves, and could only be counted as numbers to boost morale.

Driving the kobolds out would not guarantee their peaceful departure. Who could say the kobolds would not, in a moment of desperation, ally with other nearby tribes and strike back? They might even become guerrillas, lurking near the camp, preying on lone villagers and patrols.

The best solution, naturally, was the strongest tactic of the Great Huaxia: diplomacy and appeasement. Through gentle economic and political measures, one could win the loyalty of other peoples and draw them under one’s own banner.

Indeed, no sooner had Leo “recruited” them than a single detail betrayed the kobolds’ secret. Under Leo’s increasingly stern gaze, the husky kobold grunted for a long while before finally uttering a word Leo understood.

“Outlanders…”

Leo’s face grew solemn.

Outlanders—the term stood in contrast to “subjects.” Subjects were peasants living on a noble’s land, paying taxes and rendering service in exchange for protection. Outlanders, by contrast, refused to pay taxes or serve, and received no lord’s protection. If subjects were lambs in a lord’s hand, outlanders were wolves haunting the wilds, known by an even more notorious name on people’s lips:

Bandits! Brigands! Raiders!

Centuries ago, the Northmen, still in their clan society, joined the mighty Orlantis Empire. The High King of the North, the great clan chieftains, and the firstborn bloodline of the war god Tyr were all transformed—becoming the Grand Dukes of the North. The chieftains of more than a dozen major clans became imperial counts, while the armed petty chiefs and village elders became knights.

Yet, many minor chieftains and village heads, unrecognized by the Empire, refused to submit or relinquish their power, unwilling to see their lands annexed by the neighboring “counts.” Countless rebellions erupted as a result. Those so-called rebels were the ancestors of the outlanders, who fled deep into the mountains and forests, living by hunting and fishing, raiding the nobles’ domains.

Over the centuries, lacking the potential for organized warfare, the outlanders gradually faded into obscurity, and the term became synonymous with thieves and bandits. The Northmen, already deemed “barbarians” by southerners for their backward institutions, culture, and centuries-old alliances with beastfolk, saw the outlanders as barbarians among barbarians.

Thus, in Leo’s eyes, outlanders were hardly gentlefolk—though, truth be told, he himself could be counted among them. Whether traditional outlanders or common bandits, neither bode well for the frontier encampment.

At last, Leo understood why this husky-faced kobold spoke human language and was so eager to communicate: this was not the first time they had dealt with humans. Far more clever than the previous kobold chief.

Seeing Leo’s stern expression, the kobold began to defend itself: “Grr… outlanders… good… trade… we… peaceful folk!”

“Peaceful folk?” Leo asked, somewhat skeptical. “How peaceful?”

“Peaceful. Iron. Trade. Wicker baskets, sacks. Food, a little fix.”

“Where are they? How many?” Leo pressed.

Under his scrutiny, the kobold hesitated for a long while, then finally pointed toward the distant great waterfall.

“Lake. Good. Peaceful folk.”

Back at camp, Leo assigned the kobolds to a clearing far from the others, posting twenty militiamen to guard them. Then, taking the husky kobold with him, he immediately convened a meeting with Urian and several camp leaders.

“What? A single wicker basket for a basketful of iron ore?”

“A linen sack for a sackful of iron ingots?”

“And you call that kindness?”

“Cruel! Devious! Heartless! I almost feel sorry for the kobolds!”

Listening to the kobold’s halting explanations, and the news Leo had gathered on the way, the leaders within the tent were livid with indignation.

Urian, too, was furious, and snarled at the kobold, “Those damned profiteers! Swindlers! Never trade with them again! Whatever they offer, we’ll pay double!”

The other leaders looked at him with undisguised contempt, but nodded approvingly.

The husky kobold grew wary, stepping back. “Woof! Humans… devious… we… leave.”

“Wait,” Leo said quickly. “You name your price first. We can negotiate.”

The kobold had already prepared its terms on the way, and now, in clear Imperial tongue, stated, “Trade. Outlanders. The same. Food, one sack. Ore, five sacks. You, do not enter the mountains. Oak forest, half, ours.”

“Deal!” Urian slapped the table and moved to shake the kobold’s hand. “One sack of grain for five sacks of iron ore. Half the western oak forest is yours. No going back on it!”

But the kobold eyed him warily, then turned to look at Leo.

Leo immediately added, “The deal is struck. We will not go back on it.”

The kobold’s gaze shifted to the chain mace at Leo’s belt, and it grumbled, “No going back. We… peaceful folk.”

With this unexpected windfall, the mood in the tent lightened. One leader glanced at the kobold and suddenly asked, “You’re female, aren’t you? Are there no males left in your tribe?”

“I am chief. The chief’s daughter. Princess.”

Another leader laughed and pointed at Leo. “Why not seal an alliance with marriage? That would guarantee peace!”

Laughter erupted. The first leader added, “Leo, if you marry a kobold princess, you’ll have bragging rights for life!”

“Enough! Show some respect!” Before Leo could curse, Urian thundered, “She is an ally, and our future neighbor! Understood?”

“Yes, sir…” Urian’s martial presence was so overwhelming that even Leo felt a chill. The leaders immediately fell silent, lowering their heads.

The kobold, too, was startled, retreating nearly out of the tent, then, realizing what was happening, wagged her tail slightly.

“Neighbor!”

As they left the tent, Leo looked at the kobold and said with a smile, “My name is Leo. What’s yours?”

“Fisha. Fisha Inuit.”

“Are you the chief of your tribe now? The last chief…” Leo began, then stopped abruptly.

“Dead. Bitten to death.” The kobold, Fisha Inuit, answered, fixing Leo with a steady gaze and speaking fluent Imperial.