Before we begin my story, one must understand what this world is. To understand what this world is, I have to start with the most basic fact that you learn as you grow up within it.
This world belongs to humanity and its allies.
Humanity has long maintained a vice on the highest throne; they fail to match races like orcs in strength, elves in agility, or dwarves in skill. Yet all these races follow them, waging wars and benefiting from their alliance against the rest of the world's kind. Goblin, wolfmen, or harpy are nothing beneath their combined might. The sole race to stand against them had long been the demons, wielders of dark magic and the uniting willpower to bring the lesser races beneath them just as the humans brought their betters. Wars erupted and in the end, so too did they fall. Yet among those who were left in the ruins of the fallen demon lord, the monsters found no one to take the lead for centuries.
Until the world's first Kobold King appeared.
The kobolds were never believed anything more than pests; they were barely bigger than goblins, yet their mix of fur and scales made them less used for soldiers and more for resources. Kobolds were highly territorial and fought for food, women, and to enslave the others just as the demons had. The common kobold became more common throughout the collapse of the Demon Army during the Void Period, steadily building in number until massive hillside forts were cut into the fields dotting the contested lines between both demon and human.
The first Kobold King declared war with both sides and won.
Smarter and bigger than any kobold before him, the Kobold King wasn't a small humanoid scale-walker with fur; he stood nearly eight feet tall, double the size of any kobold, and bore claws and ridges on his spine like a dragon or lizardman. Where most kobolds only knew primitive ways of stone, he granted them knowledge of iron. Even wearing armor, none were able to hurt him with spear or magic; mythril itself cracked when striking the King's scales and massive infernos failed to singe his hide. Human and demon alike failed to slow the king's armies as the kobold bred with rapidly and grew quickly. The world itself was threatened and all of them called to any god they could find.
And then one day, the Kobold King vanished; in his place, there came Kobold Princes.
The might of the King's armies shattered and these young Princes fought; friend became foe and countless tribes within their culture were completely obliterated. Divided as they were, the outsiders ended the Void Period with what became known as the Great Kobold Culling. From perhaps tens of millions, the kobolds were butchered and quartered regardless of where they came from. Princes were hunted and slain, used as gruesome effigies to shatter the will of those kobolds without them. An empire that had been forged in twenty years and threatened to unify the world beneath the Kobold King had vanished almost within a year.
Everything you'll hear — my story — takes place almost two centuries after this. Kobolds have become one of the most vilified species in the world and those who remain only do so thanks to how far they are from the crux of the societies and powers the King had shattered and nearly dismantled. The world has recovered, yet none could have imagined that they had failed to kill all of the Princes. So long as a Prince survived, there was hope that a King could come forth again. It faded into a mere legend in the fatally short lives of the kobolds... but as all would soon discover, it was far from a bygone dream.
I, Baik, was born in the Rejuvenation Period.
I am a Kobold Prince.
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"Hurry! Faster!"
The pack of kobolds barked to one another, their tongue carrying through the woods; each of their barks were low-pitched and part of their Combat Language, ensuring that it carried as far as possible with maximum clarity. Their number had been twenty when their pack set out to retrieve pregnant females, yet now the five warriors that remained had only been able to save three of them.
"Catching up," barked a black fur and scale kobold, turning his head back. "Sacrifice!"
A purple kobold carrying a green female on his back pointed his spear at the other male mid-stride. "You! Honor!"
The others looked to the black packmate, yet a blue and red kobold took his flint club in both hands. Of the kobolds left, three of them had a duty to ferry the women. Fighting alone would merely waste their lives since no kobold could win alone in a fair fight with the majority of species. Against humans, it was believed that you needed five kobolds to ensure a kill.
But the ones wearing masks needed at least ten. And even then, their allies had fallen.
The black and blue-red kobolds slowed down and let the others continue running, turning to face the rattling brush behind them. Both of them raised their ears and curled their tails defensively, readying the club and the darker kobold's ax-shield combination.
"Live long," the black one yelled, charging in and at the bush. He leaped just as a human burst through the brush; comparing the two of them, the human was taller by about two feet. Any element of surprise didn't matter against these masked people, though. His shield split as the masked man swung a bastard sword through diagonally down through his shoulder and out his hip. Only his upper half and ax came in... just close enough to swing his ax down with his dying breath to crack off the iron pauldron of the man.
"Live long, brother!" The blue-red kobold watched his ally's flight and immediate death, immediately following in by swinging his club low. It struck the bastard sword and shattered, sending fragments of flint everywhere like shrapnel. The masked man merely raised his arm, only a few pieces cutting between the sections of his armored gauntlet. Yet the blue kobold was cut up and blinded as fragments struck his face and upper body, falling forward and into the masked one's path. Acting as a live barrier, he threw himself in a low tackle that slammed into the man's lower legs in one final gambit to slow him down. Whilst he did fall, however, it wasn't for long... only enough to break the trail for now.
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All three of the surviving warriors heard the pair's death but none of them had the chance to look back and give them any form of farewell. The kobolds had all known what might happen when they went to rescue the pregnant females from captivity.
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Night had come and the forest was quiet.
It had been a few hours since their escape attempt but the males needed to rest. One of the females had gone into labor and was being comforted by the other two, one of the males standing guard to keep an eye out for any predators or their pursuers.
The two resting drearily looked at the hastily made stick shelter nearby, the purple kobold cursing in their relaxed tongue.
"Only two more for three females," he hissed. "We're damned."
The other kobold — an older, grey-scaled kobold — rubbed the back of his ears. Older kobolds such as him grew feathers on the back as if to signify their ability to swiftly retreat.
"You did good boy. No worry; kobold go bold or go home, you know that."
His speech was older fashioned perhaps from war injuries but the purple kobold didn't mind it much. The old saying alone did.
"Gol," the purple one sighed, turning his frustration toward him. "How can you be so sure in Bai?"
"Our Prince never wrong. If Prince says die for females, Gol die for females." Gol didn't flinch, speaking with long-lived conviction. "Spent ten years beneath him... even hunted, Bai never wrong. Besides, females are for young ones like Toif."
Toif — young purple — grumbled, waving his hand at the old man. "Females are for warriors, not haulers."
"Silence," the third one barked. He returned from the shelter, his scales shades whiter around his face. Both resting kobolds uncertainly shared a glance but their ally beat his spear against the dirt. "Toif and Gol! Come now!"
Both elderly and young kobold got up, grabbing their weapons; they assumed it was time to get moving... but none of the females exited the shelter. Instead, their third companion entered the hidden interior. The females had worn blankets from the human camp for warmth, yet now they helped block out the light from entering the shelter. Giving birth to a kobold young was often done inside their stone houses or within caves, after all. None of them could have planned for this... yet as the pair entered, Gol immediately dropped to one knee and Toif's jaw dropped.
When born, kobolds can be a plethora of colors that have no correlation to their parents. Most females gave their children some piece of cloth that might become a bandana or wristband later on in life to help identify them. This female cradled her young one tightly within a beige blanket, brushing her hand through his short black hair. The blue scales and green eyes were normal... but the navy ridges along his tail and the downy feathers along the back of his ears identified this child as something greater. A one-in-thousandth-of-a-chance had occurred and instead of a lowly kobold, this female had given birth to a Kobold Prince.
"Toif!" Gol grabbed the youngster and pulled him down to his knee. Their ally had also kneeled and the other females were bowing their heads.
The female looked over at the younger kobold, smiling and then looking to her boy.
"Bai be praised... for today, our tribe grows stronger. I name you Baik..."
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All of the kobolds resumed moving when the sunrose and had made considerable time since then. The baby prince was carried by Toif, whilst his mother rode on the young one's back.
"To believe Lelta gave birth to a prince... who was mate?"
The pale pink female smiled at her child, gently brushing her hand through Toif's hair. "Gone now... a strong kobold from a different tribe. Bai suggested it."
Toif rolled his eyes but kept the child secure. The spark of intelligence in Baik's green eyes was undeniable; it was enough to make any kobold jealous. Yet getting angry over anything wasn't fair; Lelta wouldn't be allowed to raise the child, by the tribe's tradition. Young Kobold Princes were destined to undergo the Trials of Inheritence under the tutelage of the clan shaman. Aggel was a young shaman but Bai trusted her.
"Lelta," Toif started, watching the forest thinning out and the large field of their tribe's home come into view at last. "You... don't have a mate anymore, yes? Young Baik... could have siblings."
Gol chuckled at the same time the female laughed, earning a flustered grunt from the younger warrior. Yet they didn't tease him after that, focusing on crossing through the length of wheat to the massive stone hill that lay ahead. Multiple tiers had been carved from an ancient stone hill in the field by their ancestors, yet their tribe had done well enough to grow beyond it. A single spiked log palisade encircled the settlement's outermost tier, whilst the rest of it was protected by three-foot-high fences; a simple barrier to keep young ones from tumbling down the steeper drops and provide protection to someone attacking from lower tiers.
The gates of their settlement opened up, giving the group the first sigh of relief in days; countless females and warriors met them, ferrying the women to safety and bringing food for each of them. Among the small kobolds, however, many cleared a path; a seven-foot-tall kobold marched forward, appearing more like a dragon than a proper mix of fur and scales.
"Prince Bai," Toif called, lowering to one knee while holding the young prince.
The others looked to Toif but the massive kobold ignored them; the blue titan moved and lowered down to his knee, his black hair pulled back with a band. Unlike the others, the Prince wore more than a loincloth and tops; he wore the canvas shirt and shorts of a human, carrying an iron cleaver on his right hip.
"Toif." His voice rumbled, his fangs flashing with a smile.
"My prince, we... suffered immense loses. Veteran Gol was able to ensure we rescued the females... but..."
"I understand." Bai reached down, pointing one of his clawed fingers at the bundled kobold. "However, you did better than I could have foreseen; do you know what this one is?"
"Yes, Bai! This one... he's..."
Toif wanted to say a Prince but nearly fell over when the child was easily plucked from his hold by the older Prince. Bai stood upright, taking Baik in both hands and raising the bundled child up so they could look face to face.
"Your name, child," Bai asked. "Can you speak it yet?"
All of the kobolds looked between one another in confusion, save for the oldest among them. They greying furred kobolds merely waited for an answer, staring up at the prince with red eyes. Yet to their surprise as well as the remainder of the tribe, Bai's smile exploded into laughter with a single, hushed word from the child.
"Baik."