Mibata had gone through three or so chapters of the book, a bold tale of high seas hijinks told by a crew of explorers, before I regained the willpower necessary for our next task. There was still a million worries on my mind that had no real solution or way of avoiding, but I was able to placate the rumbling drone in my head by digging deep into my old carpentry skills. I had a few wide boards of lumber, a few worn down chisels from the bargain bin, and a burning desire to give Humey a proper kitchen to cook in.

The rest of my day was spent hauling the chunks of lumber into the main room, directing my father on what height of stone platform I needed for the kitchen, and carving the rough lumber into a smooth counter. I didn’t attempt anything I knew I couldn’t do, so the surface was a simple wooden surface with a smooth beveled edge that was rounded* at the corners. Basic, functional, and spacious enough for the whole family to line up at. The best part was that the space could be modified for future installations, and already had a sort of cabinet area where a second water barrel and crate lined with a rubbish sack were in place*.

Tuleni went home after giving Tokols a second round of scolding words for skipping a week of training, and had left with the promise that tomorrow she would make the worst of scout training look like a walk in the park by comparison. I felt bad for him because of how harsh she was being, so I decided that tonight was going to be a special night for him. From within a jar hidden at the back of the larder shelves was an ingredient I had kept secret from him specifically: dried forest crickets. As with any ingredient, I had given them a taste test and found that they were the perfect blend of smoky wood flavor and sweet fruit taste, making them the perfect ingredient for a false teriyaki dish. If my human self knew what I was doing now, I would have had a heart attack and died.

Dinner went just as planned, with the majority of restored morale going to Tokols the insect connoisseur and aficionado. As a way of thanking me, he went and cleared the rest of my purchased goods out from in front of my bed and had taken all of the lumber scraps to organize them in a neat pile by the far wall. I still had the idea of making a target for Mibata, but with all of these extra pieces I could also make some other things that would boost the overall quality of life around here.

That could wait until I had more free time. My weekend was coming to a close, which meant I would have to go and be a scribe for the next six days. I could only imagine that a job picked for me by the elders was going to be some new attempt to grind me down to nothing, which meant I was going to need everything at full strength for whatever they had planned. I hardly felt the soft embrace of the bed before my consciousness slipped away.

…

Up bright and early, being guided to the scribe hall by my dad, and happily filled with a hearty breakfast, I was completely focused on making the best of today. We had taken the cargo lift down to the bottom floor, only to take the stairs to go back up a few floors that didn’t have platforms for elevators. Bahruk said it was for security reasons, but I felt that it had more to do with the fact that the bottom ten and top ten floors of this city were owned exclusively by the elders. They wanted to control how many people came wandering around here, so cutting off access to the lifts was an easy way to achieve this. Regardless, if you knew where you were going it wasn’t difficult to get there, it just took a little more leg work than everywhere else.

The scribe hall was tucked away in a tunnel on the fifth floor, facing the back of the dragon statue and the altar it sat upon. I guessed from how cold the air was that this floor might be underground, below even the base of the mountain. There soon came a wooden door that would look at home in a dungeon, from which I could smell a dense flow of mana moving from within. I reached for the handle, only to have my arm stopped by Bahruk’s grip on my wrist.

“No my dear, you must always knock to enter here. The master of this hall has rules that must be obeyed, or else you might face his wrath.”

Great, my boss is a rule lawyer. Following his instructions I rapped my knuckles on the thick barrier, only to have the door vanish after a single knock. I looked to my dad who was motioning for me to enter before I did just that.

Stepping inside, I noticed four very distinct things. One, this place is huge, easily larger than the workshop and forge combined. Two, it was warm in here, and the magical heaters scattered throughout the chamber was a clear indication as to why. Three, the entire chamber was filled to the brim with shelves of scrolls and books, desks with kobolds furiously writing away at them, and an enormous pillar in the center that was swirling with magic. Four, this room had actual lights hanging on chains above the shelves and tables. I couldn’t take in any more information before the sudden sensation of an elder’s gaze was upon me, the direction was from the top of the swirling pillar.

I looked at the source of the nerve wracking stare, only to see an elderly brown kobold floating through the air towards me on a rune covered platform. They were old and hunched over, leaning on the staff in their right hand while directing the magic of the hovering device with their other shaking hand. Inquisitive amber eyes watched me carefully as the distance between us shortened, and a dreadful scowl was held on the sagging turtle-like face. The platform halted a foot between us, and the gravelly voice of the elder broke the odd silence that hung in the air of the scribe hall.

“Kayrux, spawn of Juaki and Bahruk, I have been expecting your arrival. Welcome to my domain: the information nexus of Terokos, the great scribe’s hall, the currency evaluation wing, and records hall all in one. I am Elder Faerkurch, the high magus of Terokos.”

The intense sensation that the elders gave off from their gaze disappeared as he spoke, which allowed me to relax and evaluate what it was that he had been doing: identify. He gleaned my name just with his eyes, but did so with less intensity than the other elders. He also seemed quite calm as he spoke, in contrast to the pompous authority I had seen in the other two elders. He beckoned with his hand for me to follow after his gliding plate.

“Pay attention and follow. I have heard much about you from Tuleni, my niece, and have taken the liberty of ordering the assignment device to place you under my care. Do not think that I do this out of kindness. Literate kobolds are scarce these days, so your skills will be pushed to the utmost limit to meet the ever-growing demand of my hall’s services. You will be treated the same as any other scribe, excluding a rule specific to you in regards to your boundless supply of mana: no spellcasting in my hall. I will not allow you to jeopardize my life’s work.”

We arrived twenty rows of desks away from the door at a pair of vacant desks, where he directed me to sit. His honey eyes flicked to the far wall, where an enormous clock with fifteen notches was ticking along, then over to the empty desk. A single knock resonated from the entrance, followed by hurried footsteps as a familiar yellow kobold came skidding to a halt behind the hovering elder. A wave of his hand beckoned her to sit in the empty seat to my left.

“Raevu, spawn of Grukus and Wraith. Your arrival is coincidentally opportune for you, as I was about to go over the rules of this place.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The next hour was a comprehensive rundown of every slight we could possibly perform that would anger this windbag. Everything from walking too loud or eating on the job to more extreme offenses that bordered on arson were prohibited in his facility. Every one of them was numbered, and he even pointed to a golden slab on the wall that had all one hundred and nine rules etched in glowing letters. And yes, knocking to enter was a rule, number fifteen specifically.

With our brains thoroughly turned to mush from his breathless rambling, he decided that now was when he would actually tell us what our tasks were.

“Kayrux, it is your duty to learn three new written languages: True Highman’s Tongue, Imperial Jani’nan, and Verklian. Once you are able to do that, you will act as a translator for incoming documents. I am already aware that you know Old Pteronian, which is common only here in Terokos. You have no doubt been purchasing books from the market, which were all likely rejects of the scribe hall libraries. I implore that you make haste in your studies, as a gifted translator will always have great burdens to endure.”

I got the feeling that he knew exactly which books I had. This guy was nosy by nature, which meant that he wanted to keep an eye on everything that was going on around him, especially if it was connected to his work.

“Raevu will act as your assistant and student. She has a basic understanding of the Imperial Jani’nan characters, making you both capable of teaching the other what you know. Books written in both languages will be provided shortly by my head translator Wablaks, who will assist in your studies for this week. Expect his arrival within the hour. You have until the next moon-rise to be fully capable translators between Pteronian and Jani’nan languages, and until the following moon-fall to master the other two. Failure to meet this goal will see you deployed as lesser cartographers, drawing the same map for months on end. I strongly suggest avoiding such a fate.”

No more words came from the hovering old man as he drifted silently up to the top of the ominous pillar. Raevu and I shared a look of dread in regards to the colossal task before us. Three languages in eleven weeks, one hundred and sixty eight days all together or less than half if you remove the off-weeks and weekends from the mix. This month was going to end next week on moon-fall, and the month after would lead to moon-rise. I hope kobold brains really do have some kind of special learning ability, because I would really use that same speed I had picked up Old Pteronian with right now.

Neither of us attempted to communicate beyond our shared look of dismay. She could talk but I couldn’t respond, so until our delivery of translating material arrived we could only wait awkwardly to the sound of the many quills on paper around the room.

A tall and thin kobold with glasses on his frog-like face approached us, and I had to look away as the light from a lamp shone off of his silver scales. He had a stack of books under one arm and a chair in his off hand, which he sat in as he gingerly slid into the space between us. His voice was soft and even, with just a hint of enthusiasm.

“Hello. My name’s Wablaks, and I’m here to assist you two with your introduction task. First off, don’t be discouraged by how difficult this all seems. Faerkurch does this to all of the new scribes, like a rite of passage. He’s always hard on you at first, but once you prove your worth he lets you operate on your own for the most part. Only a few have failed his challenge, but even those that failed are still allowed to climb up the ranks. I should know, I was one of them. Hehe, those were fun days. So, now that I’ve taken a seat and brought these books, why don’t we start by learning how to introduce ourselves with both languages?”

I really liked how this guy presented himself with a soft spoken kindness, but a strong implication that he was confident in his abilities. Hopefully his confidence comes from a place of true wisdom, and he can actually help us meet this absurd deadline. We will see, but for now I need to stop staring at the light glittering off of his horns as they jostled with the motions of his words.

…

Wablaks was right about a few things. Faerkurch really doesn’t give his scribes much oversight, and just lets them work in peace. The man himself seemed engrossed with a clockwork device that kept one of his tomes locked in a metal sphere while dancing lines of mana flipped through the pages. Our teacher was also correct that the task laid before us was entirely doable, since Raevu was now able to write all of our names in Pteronian legibly, and my own understanding of the swirling Jani’nan was taking form. The language I knew was made of individual letters to form words, while the one I was learning had core symbols that could be altered with additional marks to change the meaning and pronunciation.

Regardless, the day went surprisingly quickly as we played classroom in the hushed space of the hall. I soon found myself walking out of the entrance door with Raevu at my side gushing about how today had defied her expectations.

“Thought scribe hall would scare me, instead I like it! Wablaks very smart, Elder Faerkurch not mean, and you my buddy! Today very good day, make me excited for next day! Oh, should maybe be less noisy, still outside den. My fault.”

Her enthusiasm for learning was another example of the unending curiosity I had noticed in multiple other kobolds. Scratch that, it seemed that every kobold was always asking questions and looking for answers. Everybody from the humble riveter to the arcane elder was digging for knowledge in their chosen field. Perhaps that is how the job choosing machine decided your task, by digging through your subconscious and seeing what makes you tick and finding you a job that would scratch that itch you didn’t know you had.

The two of us found our way to the main shaft and back down to the bottom floor, where Bahruk was waving us over to the cargo lift that held twenty or so tired kobolds. Raevu and I managed to get aboard with plenty of space to spare. Perhaps due to the closeness we had while approaching the lift, my father decided that starting up some conversation with us was necessary for this elevator ride.

“Hello dear, I brought heavy lift down for mine workers. I usually do, I held for you. Who this? Your friend?? She look quite fast girl. You messenger?”

Raevu sheepishly chuckled, and I could tell from the concealed pain in her eyes that she didn’t like talking with people she didn’t know. I felt the same way, though being mute had the benefit of letting me opt out of unwanted conversations.

“Uh, no, mushroom harvester. Scribe also, like Kayrux. Name Raevu. You her father?”

“I am. She nice for you? Be good friend?”

“Yeah… nice friend.”

“That good. Maybe bring our den, share meal? Good friend do that, yeah?”

The uncomfortable expression on her face became obvious enough that my intervention was becoming necessary. I wrote a simple message for him to read, and if he ignored me I was going to throw my slate at him.

“STOP! You’re being weird. Leave Raevu alone.”

Dad frowned at the slate, but relented in his pestering. My friend gave me a nod of thanks as she crept to the front of the lift. The first stop was hers so she departed with a short thanks and a promise to see me tomorrow. My first friend out of the family shares a ride home with me, and somehow my dad had immediately delved deep into the unspoken rules of being a father so he could channel the powers of embarrassment on me.

We got home after a few more stops, and along the way back I apologized for calling him weird. He just laughed it off and kept walking, stating that he had been called much worse when he was an apprentice after moving to this city. Sometimes I forgot that he was somewhat of an outsider too. It wasn’t just me.

Home was a flurry of excitement when we got there. Humey had finally gotten to try his hand at cooking on his new countertop after spending the entire day learning how to lock the brake of minecarts and nothing else for the next ten hours. Mibata had brought home a decent pile of mushrooms that were not large enough to sell, but also needed to be culled for new growth. Tokols was high as a kite off of healing tonic fumes, since his day was learning a list of new recipes to make, and had gotten carried away and made one of every kind. Mom was apparently down in the tunnels fighting those horrors, and as Aergrali had informed us had gone on a rampage again. This is what she does apparently: find monsters, get hit once, go into a berserker rage. She’s such a hypocrite with all of her talk about controlling your temper.

Whatever, not my circus, not my clowns. I enjoyed my dinner and helped scrub the new cooking area clean with the others, then we all went to bed. Some small part of me is glad that my dreams aren’t always remembered, as I’m sure the nightmare of my mother going wild with a battleax against those things would haunt me for months.