Chapter LXXXIII (83) - Jak the Gnome
Kizu entered History F late, fully expecting to be ejected from the class immediately by Professor Krimpt. He had a slip from Kateshi that explained his tardiness was due to her conducting a tune up of his leg brace, getting it ready for the cold weather of Tross, but he didn’t have much faith that Krimpt would let him get that far into an explanation.
However, to his surprise, Krimpt didn’t even comment on him as he entered the lecture hall. At the front of the room, a child stood beside the professor, fidgeting uncomfortably. It wasn’t until Kizu slipped into a seat and more closely examined the guest before he realized his mistake.
It wasn’t a child, but a gnome. He had pink hair that defied gravity and stood straight up and oversized spectacles that looked like they belonged on an adult human. He was certainly younger than Jeri, Kizu’s only comparison, but he could be anywhere between adolescence and middle aged. He wasn’t certain how gnomes aged.
Krimpt was jabbering about the gnome’s unique knowledge of a culture now almost entirely snuffed out. He named him a ‘living relic of a bygone era.’ Not the most sensitive title, Kizu noted as he saw the gnome wince slightly.
“Now, Joon, why don’t you introduce yourself?”
The gnome stepped forward. All the way in the back, Kizu couldn’t hear his voice, but he could see him fidget with his oversized glasses.
“One moment, Joon,” Krimpt said, stepping back up and clipping a collar pin on Joon’s shirt. “There, try that again.”
“Hello, everyone,” the gnome said. His voice didn’t boom, but instead it sounded as if the gnome spoke from right beside Kizu. Despite his nervous body language, he spoke clearly. “My name is Jak Joon. I am a transfer student starting here next week. You might know my uncle, Jeri Joon. He runs a shop in town. Professor Krimpt is an old family friend of his and asked that I speak in his classes about my family’s history.”
For the first time, Kizu found himself interested in a topic in History F. Notably, it was the one-time Krimpt wasn’t leading the lecture. Big surprise there.
Jak talked a bit about his childhood in Ilosin-Don. Apparently, he was only a couple years older than Kizu, so he had only been eight when the government collapsed due to the ooze invasion. He avoided talking about the conflict though, instead going into great detail about gnomish performances. Apparently acting was a massive part of gnomish culture. Visual performances accompanied by illusions were their preferred method of passing down histories.
Krimpt was quick to cut in that these performances each had written records as well, dating back hundreds of years. He disparaged the concept of reliance on a solely oral record, calling it ‘foolish and uncivilized.’
“Yes, unfortunately, it is rare to find the Universal Script in Ilosin-Don,” Jak continued. “And because Gnomish is a notoriously difficult language to learn, most of the time outsiders instead watch the performances. Even amongst gnomes, it’s rare to find someone other than actors and directors studying the scripts.”
Kizu remembered the Gnomish dictionary he’d used to study Primordial. He silently agreed with Jak’s assessment on the difficulty of the language.
Naturally, Krimpt shifted Jak away from the subject of theater to Kizu’s disappointment, and instead peppered him questions about gnomish architecture and the unique measurement units used. And while Jak answered the questions, Kizu noticed the gnome seemed like he had the wind taken from his sails.
“What are the odds you think he’ll end up in any F classes with us?” Ione asked Kizu while Jak answered a question about how, unlike in Hon, basements were widespread across Ilosin-Don.
“I doubt it. He definitely seems smarter than you,” Kizu whispered back at her. He was careful to keep his voice down. For one thing, he didn’t want to get thrown out of this class. And for another, he wanted to avoid offending the gnome. He felt bad for him. Not only did Jak completely lose his home and have his species driven to near extinction, now he had to deal with Krimpt being an ass about it.
“I’m bottom of the barrel by choice,” Ione grumbled. “Meanwhile, only class you’re not trying in is this one.”
In the final ten minutes of class, Krimpt opened the lecture for questions.
A few scattered hands rose in the crowd, a far cry from the usual zero audience participation in the usual History F classes. Jak pointed at one, seemingly at random.
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“What techniques do gnomes lean towards in combat?” Harvey asked. “Are there any strategies gnomes are famous for discovering and using?”
“We aren’t a very aggressive people,” Jak said, sounding sad. “Historically, both humans and Tainted attempted to occupy Ilosin-Don, but they were always chased out. Not with avert violence, but instead by using sabotage. Occupiers struggled to hold ground due to lack of control over their resources such as food spoilage and building structural instability. Minor inconveniences have a way of adding up.”
“So, you used siege tactics to destroy morale. That makes sense. But the oozes don’t have the same issue?”
Kizu wanted to kick Harvey. The Tainted boy didn’t know how to read the room. He was even worse than Krimpt. And the rest of the class appeared to agree as a murmur went through the room.
“No. Oozes don’t use the same senses as humanoids. And so, illusion spellcraft isn’t a viable option for hiding or distracting. And they don’t require the same needs or wants either. Previous strategies didn’t work. Those of us who didn’t leave, died.”
Beside him, Ione raised her hand. Jak looked over at the clock before reluctantly calling on her.
“What’s your favorite gnomish cuisine?”
The sudden change in topic appeared to break Jak as he froze for a second. Then he smiled appreciatively towards Ione.
“Baked goods are very popular among gnomes. Most gnomes you’ll meet don’t eat meat, but a lot of us started eating dairy after Edgeland introduced cattle to Ilson-Don during one of their failed incursions about a thousand years ago.”
Jak spent the next few minutes talking nostalgically about food from his childhood until the bell rang, dismissing them.
“That was pretty decent of you,” Kizu said to Ione as they packed up.
She shrugged. “I was just curious. We’ve all got to eat, after all.”
—
Kizu debated about whether or not to bring the box of enchanted items with him on the school trip. Sojan agreed to watch over Anata while he was away, so obviously he would be staying behind. The necklace, book, and bell, though, were another matter. He considered leaving the necklace in Anata’s care but dismissed the idea. If something happened to her, he needed to be able to find her. And as much as he trusted Aoi to hold the place down, being away from the enchanted items still felt risky. In the end, he packed them in his bag. There was of course a risk of someone rummaging through his things while traveling, but at least he would always be nearby to take care of the problem. Plus, he planned to have Mort watching over his things at all times as well. A fierce guard monkey.
Without Aoi around to work on their cloning project, Sojan had been brooding around the ship. The normally excessively talkative dagger, instead moped about, complaining about little things. Kizu hadn’t known artificial creatures could have moods until meeting the dagger. It raised questions about the James golems up at the academy and his enchanted scrying orb. Though he doubted their enchanting was anywhere near as complex as Sojan’s, where did it cross the line into true sentience? But that was a question for another day.
Currently, at Kizu's suggestion, Sojan was in the crew chambers passing the time by playing cards with the skeletons. He was even worse at it than Kizu but turned out to be a surprisingly good sport about losing.
The academy was supposedly giving them special uniforms specifically for the school trip, but Kizu still packed the one that Basil had gifted him for their dungeon delve. Better to be more prepared than less.
A tap on his back broke him away from his packing. He turned to see Anata standing behind him with her writing pad and quill in hand. Kizu squinted, trying to read Anata’s small handwriting.
You are putting clothes in a bag? the note said.
“Yes,” Kizu confirmed. “I have a school trip I need to attend. I’m getting my things together for it. It’s going to be cold, so I’m packing extra clothes.”
Anata quickly scribbled on her writing pad. What do I need?
Kizu hesitated. “No. You’re going stay here. It’s only for a week. Sojan will watch you while I’m gone.”
I want to go. This time Anata wrote it in large characters. She glared at him, her bottom lip trembling slightly.
“Anata,” Kizu said, taking a knee to look her in the eye. “Listen, it will only be a few days. You need to stay here where it’s safe.”
Anata aggressively wrote another message. Kizu braced himself. But then she paused before crossing it out. When she showed him her writing pad, the only legible characters just said, Okay.
Sighing in relief, Kizu put a hand on Anata’s head. That could have gone much worse.
“I’ll bring you back a present. You just promise to keep up your studies while I’m gone.”
Pushing his hand away, she glared at him before leaving, her scarlet eye glinting. Kizu had never seen such hostility from the girl before. It was probably actually a good sign. It meant she was breaking out of her shell more. Though he wished it hadn’t happened in a way that left him feeling so guilty.
He mulled over his decision, trying to make sure it was her wellbeing he was putting forward, not his own convenience. It would be irresponsible for him, as her guardian, to drag her to a different continent where he didn’t understand the customs or the risks. The right thing to do was to leave her in the known safe area here.
After stuffing another pair of socks into his bag, Kizu shook his head to clear it of the jumble of thoughts and mixed feelings. He reassured himself that she would be fine. What could go wrong in just a couple days apart?