Chapter 7

More tourism and bullies

Down the street, I find an interesting place: a workshop with a wide variety of metal and leather suits. Each and every one of them basically oozes sturdiness, much like the ones worn by the Kroks. I want to... that is not it… I have to take a good look for future reference!

Just when I am about to walk in, I hear a roaring wave of laughter directed at me coming from behind. Its origin, a group of four dwarfs talking loudly to each other while looking down on me. Or rather, trying their best to since they are only a tad over half my size.

(“Nice armor, did your mommy make it for you?”)

If there was a doubt before, it is gone, they are mocking me.

(“Cigarette’s paper is sturdier than that!”)

(“Guys, that’s cast iron, bloody cast iron!”)

(“Guys, guys, don’t be so harsh. He’s obviously a kid or an actor playing the part of an adventurer. Too bad the costume looks so bad.”)

(“Nice war hammer you got there, pal. What’s its name, the mice’s bane?”)

(Awesome, it’s leather, but it’s painted to look like metal. What happened? Your mommy ran out of metal before she could cover that stupidly tall body of yours?)

(“Why don’t you run back to Mommy before you get hurt? You aren’t prepared to face the dangers out there… the wild if full of rabbits and squirrels, you know?”

Despite their berating tone and probably harsh words, the group does not seem to bear any real hostility towards me. As for my ability to understand meaning and feelings, it cannot keep up with their speed and their overlapping words.

I am saved when a booming voice exuding authority shouts them down. The commanding figure walks down the street, it is a massive Krok followed by a group of mixed species: one fox, two dwarfs and one reptilian.

The commanding Krok walks straight towards the mocking dwarfs. From up-close, without the metal suit, the long years of evolution shine even more; there are no traces of their animalistic ancestry in these eyes.

How long have I been dead for them to progress this much?

(“What’s with you idiots are making trouble again? Get back to your job before the guards come. Do you really intend on becoming their guest every other day?”)

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

(“Oh, come on, look at his armor! We were doing him a service there: a dog could tear his gear apart assuming it doesn’t come apart by itself first.)

(“You’ve already caused too much trouble for anyone to listen to your explanation, mates. Make yourself scarce before the guards come, I will talk to them for you.”)

(“Hey, we weren’t doing anything wrong but... thank you. Let’s go, guys, he’s right after the other day they aren’t likely to listen to us.”)

(“Thanks.”)

(“We owe you one.”)

The gates’ people are coming? Is it not bad news? I entered without buying a wooden tag and have none of these currencies they are so fond of yet.

The helpful Krok show its fang at me and go talk with the metal-suited Krok. The discussion does not last long, but it involves a lot of sharp gaze being thrown at me.

Whatever it said, the Krok managed to convince them. They leave and I walk up to him. “Many thanks for your help. I was at a loss as to what to do. I can only speak...” Suddenly I remember the fox enchanter saying that it is pretty uncommon for people to speak the language and ask. “Do you understand me?”

“I do, same as all great Koroks. We all learn the Queen’s tongue early in life, so if you’re lost or in trouble just ask my nearest kindred.” It shows its teeth again. “In Thenewcity, we’re all either (knights), guards or retired.”

Guard, I understand, but the other word’s meaning is unclear… I understood it as ‘protector’, but there were some other connotations I did not pick up on.

“I will do just that, kind sir. You said you were a great Korok? May I trouble you to ask what the other species are called?”

“Sure, sure, no problem lad. The furry one is an Elf, the small ones like my two friends there are Humans and the last one is a Korok.”

“Koroks and great Koroks? Does it mean you are related and that the difference only comes down the difference in size?”

“Something like that. As you can see, we great Koroks are pretty tall and bulky, but we’re also honorable and congratulate ourselves for being first in line to protect the queen and the (Queendom)!”

It is nice of him for telling me all of this, but is he not a little too forward with information? And is it me or did I really pick a hint of threat?

“By the way, did you need something from this shop? No offense, but you won’t find anything your size in town, not unless you have it custom-made.”

“I was only looking at the leather suits for reference. As you can see, I am not very proficient with metal, so I was thinking of taking inspiration from one of these.”

“Suit? Look nice?” He stares at my suit and asks in a doubtful tone. “You know what (armors) are for, right?”

I am not that dumb; it is just that my case is special and that I did not know the right word up until now.

“They are protective gears, right?”

“Yeah, they are for protection in combat, but I suppose for a mage like you, the look is really all that matters. Well, if you don’t mind, I really need to get going. I’m sure you’ve also got all sorts of things to do, right? See you later lad.”

“How… How did you know I was a mage?”

“I just needed one clue, kiddo. You wearing this, and yet you are still alive.” He mutters something too low for me to understand then walks away. “See you later, kid!”

“See you later, sir.”

He reunites with his group and they leave together. Why did he say, later? And why do people keep treating me like a child?

I look closely at the ‘armor’ – even the name sounds nice – and one really sticks out: pure shiny black leather with metal reinforcements on the shoulders, tights and forearm. I commit the look to memory, then hide in the same remote place until night comes, fully intent on making the best of the night to test the concepts I came up with at the enchanter’s shop.