Settled into a vast cave at the deepest end of the valley, arranged by Shadar, Saron found himself in what was once a refuge for the trolls. The space had been meticulously cleaned by Shadar's people, and Saron was quite pleased with it.

Shadar had also presented the treasures collected by the forest trolls over the years. Saron inspected them—a mere hundred or so gold coins, mostly jewelry, armor, and weapons, all stained with blood, likely remnants from robbed caravans or fallen adventurers. Compared to the hoard of a dragon's mother, it was meager, and Saron felt a tinge of disappointment.

"What's this?" Saron's interest piqued as he picked up a blue necklace. The magical essence within it was rich and potent. Composed of seven sapphire-like gems and finished with a white conch, it was strikingly beautiful.

"Lord Saron, that is something we found when we ambushed a merchant caravan. According to the leader of the caravan, it's called the Siren's Tear, a magical artifact. However, we couldn't figure out how to utilize it," Shadar explained, cursing his kin's hastiness in killing.

"Siren's Tear!" Saron beheld the necklace, sensing its importance to him.

"Shadar, send someone to the mines we discovered earlier. There are veins to be exploited, and I wish for you to commence mining operations at once!" Saron stowed the Siren's Tear away, preparing for the grandeur to come.

"Lord Saron, we forest trolls are not adept at mining," Shadar admitted with some difficulty. They were warriors, not miners.

"What? You mean to tell me you cannot complete the first task I've set for you after becoming my subjects?" Saron's gaze turned dangerous.

"Rest assured, Lord Saron, we will begin mining immediately!" Shadar's heart tightened, and he quickly assured.

"Then get to it without delay!"

"At your command!" Shadar exited the cave and encountered the oldest troll of the tribe, Sharman, whose years were etched in the lines of his weathered face.

"Shadar, what's the word?" Sharman asked, noticing Shadar's furrowed brow.

Stolen story; please report.

After hearing about Saron's orders, Sharman fell into a thoughtful silence. "Shadar, rally the warriors, arm them, and prepare to move out. I have an idea!" Sharman's clouded yellow eyes sparkled with a cunning light.

"What do you mean?" Shadar asked, surprised and hopeful.

"Have you forgotten about our two food storage reserves?" Sharman chuckled.

"Of course! How could I not think of it? Goblins and gnolls are the best at such tasks!" Shadar smacked his own head in realization. There were two smaller tribes within Sunset Forest, a goblin tribe and a gnoll tribe, both considered larders by the Malocclusion Tribe. In times of scarce hunting, the Malocclusion Tribe would capture goblins and gnolls for sustenance. They would never consume the young of these tribes, understanding the importance of sustainability.

...

Saron watched Shadar's hurried departure with disinterest. He didn't care how Shadar managed the task, as long as the ore was mined for him. He never took anything related to his feasts lightly. Looking at the Siren's Tear beside him, he felt an even stronger connection to it than he had to the great axe before. If all went as expected, the Siren's Tear would be the main ingredient for his upcoming feast. Complemented with some ores and gold coins, the banquet should be just sufficient.

...

"Hurry up, you repulsive creatures!" barked the forest troll warriors as they herded a group of small green-skinned goblins with elongated ears towards the topaz vein that Saron had pointed out earlier.

"Aye, aye!" Shadar called out as he watched a group of gnolls being ushered in behind the goblins. Their skin was scaly, ranging in color from dark brown to black, with two small pale horns, bright eyes, and rat-like tails.

"What are we to do, honored Shadar?" quivered a goblin who appeared to be the leader, clad in tattered leather armor. Was this the end for them all?

But Shadar didn't respond to him directly; instead, he stood tall on a rise.

"Listen up, gnolls and goblins! From this day forward, we of the Malocclusion Tribe will no longer prey on you!" Shadar's declaration sent ripples of unrest through their ranks. Could it be true?

"Right beneath your feet lies a vast vein of ore. I need you to mine it for us in the shortest time possible. This is your chance to prove your worth. And if you fail—" Shadar paused for effect.

"Don't worry, my lord! Mining is in our blood. We will get it done in no time!" The goblins were visibly excited.

"Here are your tools!" Shadar pointed at a pile of bones on the ground, remains of fierce creatures hunted by his tribe.

"And one more thing – you can trade the ore you mine for meat. Tenfold ore for one portion of meat!" Shadar said with some reluctance, the words sticking in his throat. This was Sharman's instruction, and although he saw these beings as lowly creatures unworthy of their prized hunts, there was no alternative.

The goblins and gnolls roared and charged towards the vein. Chaos ensued as they returned to fight over the bone tools. The prospect of meat — provided by the forest trolls — spurred them into a frenzy.

The trolls had to step in to maintain order amid the tumult. Yet, they were impressed by how adept the goblins and gnolls were at mining. Pits appeared on the ground in no time, the goblins expertly determining the most accessible mining spots and how to excavate without risking a collapse.

Soon, the goblin leader approached Shadar with several chunks of yellow transparent topaz. Shadar was thrilled – such beautiful stones surely had to be precious. No wonder Lord Saron had placed such great importance on them.

"My lord, I have mined ore too!" panted a gnoll, arriving with a large chunk of ore.

"Excellent!"

"Come with me and bring the ore!" Shadar commanded with a wave of his hand, his voice booming with satisfaction.

"As you wish, my lord!" they responded in unison.