* Chapter 7 - Jesting •
As the soldiers, all decorated with the same red emblem, marched to the cave, Verja started slowly spewing out tear gas from the pipes. As the group spotted the green mist, one of the original soldiers seemingly warned their leader about it. Then, their leader started chanting, before he shouted the words ｢Gale of the Sixth｣ in clear, 21st century English, as he formed a magic circle in front of him, before a burst of air shot out of it, dispersing the nearby gas.
English. He just said that in English. Does that mean that the magic on this world has a connection to Earth? But even then, the kobolds did not need to say anything when they were casting spells, although they often did. Whatever. That doesn’t matter now. As the winds blew away the tear gas, Verja stopped the spewer, letting the soldiers approach the dome.
Once they had visual contact on the dome, the soldiers were shocked, with the leader asking the others about it. The door to the dome stayed shut, as the soldiers slowly approached it, and started poking around, trying to find a way in. Meanwhile, Verja brought a large tank inside the dome from the facility on the back of an Arbiter. A pipe was connected from the tank to the gas spewer, and suddenly, the forest was engulfed in a yellow smoke. Specters witnessed the soldiers panicking, as the leader couldn’t cast magic fast enough to counteract the smoke.
One after another, the soldiers fell on the ground, and as the leader tried to make a run for it, an embrasure from the dome creaked open, and three Equalizers opened fire, firing sedative darts at his neck, trying to avoid the metal plating. After a single successful hit and ten seconds later, every member of the expedition was on the ground, unconscious.
The leader was hauled back to the laboratory, where Verja confirmed that he was a regular human. Verja asked the kobolds about the soldiers, and they recognised their emblem. “They were the same surface-dwellers which we lost the battle against!” told Erglus. After a few medical tests, the unconscious leader was sent back onto the surface. When the soldiers started waking up, they all found themselves on the crossroads, unharmed.
The soldiers retreated back to the village, collected their equipment, thanked the villagers for their hospitality and left on horseback, riding westwards, leaving only two soldiers to the village, them being the first ones Verja met back at the entrance of the cave. Well, that’s out of the way, for now. Since a proper encounter is inevitable, I’ll try to establish friendly relations with the villagers first.
In the depths of the facility, Verja started retrofitting another Ambassador with a makeshift white and green jester's suit. They added a better battery, removed the “vocal cords”, and added a hidden coilgun hidden inside its arm. And the greatest weapon of all, a foldable, tiny accordion in the other arm. It had a mask with tears falling from its eyes, and could easily pass by as a human in a clown suit. I shall call it Myuller.
As the sun rose up, Gwyna Nerilen was woken up by her mother, ate some porridge with her family of four, and helped her older brother carry water from a nearby well. At midday, she had permission to go play with her friends. They ran around the nearby forest, which they knew like the back of their hand. Suddenly, they heard a bizarre tune coming from further away than she was allowed to go. “But I want to know what’s there!” Gwyna said to her friend, who was reluctant to go.
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“Mama said no, so that means no.” They continued to argue back and forth, as a Specter was watching their every move and listening, slowly and surely deciphering their words. Let’s hope they won’t fear me. Suddenly, the tune seemed to come closer and closer, as one of Gwyna’s friends grabbed her arm, bracing for what’s to come. Behind a tree, the face of a clown appeared, staring at the fearful children, before waving at them enthusiastically.
The jester approached them cheerfully, jumping towards them. He squatted a few meters in front of them, and squeezed its nose twice, which made a honking sound. “Who are you?” asked Gwyna, to which the jester pointed to his mask, which had the word MYULLER written on the forehead. “M-y-u-l-l-e-r. Muler?” said one of the kids. “No, that says Myuller” replied Gwyna, to which the jester started nodding rapidly. “Why are you here?” she asked. Myuller shrugged, before grabbing a silver necklace, decorated with a green, finely cut glass gem from his pocket, and giving it to her. “Umm… Thank y-” before she could finish her sentence, the jester squeezed his nose again, and took off, running deeper into the forest at an incomprehensible speed.
The Specters watched, as the children returned back to the village. “Mama! We found a weird clown-man in the forest!” shouted Gwyna, as she slammed the doors open. Her mother, who was baking dough, turned to look at her child, who had a beautiful silver pendant in her hands. “What was that honey? You found this… necklace?” “Yeah! There was a kind clown-man in the forest playing a song, and he gave me this!” Verja observed as the mother scolded her child about why you shouldn’t approach strangers, before taking the necklace to the town blacksmith, who seemed to be really impressed by it.
The next day, as Gwyna went to fetch the buckets she and her brother use to haul water, she couldn’t find them. Just as she was about to go ask people about them, she heard a familiar tune, as the jester had the buckets attached to a shoulder pole. He was carrying them without using his hands, which were occupied by the accordion. He left the full buckets of water in front of her, honked his nose, and took off, with no-one but her noticing.
Days went by as the group of kids started to like Myuller more and more, but while most of the adults were suspicious or downright hostile towards him, Verja didn’t give up. Gwyna’s father’s axe had seen better days, and one day, he found it entirely missing. Then, out of the forest, he heard a strange instrument being played, before the white-green jester the kids were talking about showed up. He jogged right next to Gwyna’s father, who took a few steps back. Then, he pulled out the finest quality handaxe out of seemingly nowhere, its head gleaming in the sunlight, and presented it to him, kneeling on the ground.
He looked at the clown dubiously, and took a few steps back, grabbing a sturdy log to use as a makeshift weapon. Then, he heard something heavy running towards them from the woods, as an adult mudthresher breached through the bushes, screaming. The guard on the watchtower noticed it, and started playing the bell, which everyone in the village reacted to. Most people ran inside their homes, with the two soldiers grabbing their spears and running towards it. Some other people also took arms in the form of pitchforks, hoes and mallets alike.
The mudthresher screamed as it approached the jester, who still had his back turned towards it. As the father started running away, he turned around to see the clown running at impossible speeds, with the axe in hand, towards the bug. He jumped way above the beast, and in a flash, the axe was buried inside the carapace of the creature, who stopped in its tracks. The villagers and the soldiers looked at the clown, standing in front of the dead mudthresher, who bowed deeply, before running back to the woods, leaving the axe in the corpse.