On a twisting, turning road that makes its way through the forest...
To be more precise, the path was nothing more than an old riverbed, the water having dried out long before, leaving behind a trail resembling a road. A wagon drawn by a beast of burden made its leisurely way along the winding course over the sand and pebbles.
The vehicle itself was perfectly unpretentious, and would have been equally at home in the royal capital, on a highway leading to the city, or on the backwater roads of a rural town. It was a perfectly ordinary covered wagon. Though... Perhaps the word “humble” would be a better description than “ordinary.”
There was nothing unassuming about its cargo: plows, hoes, and other farming tools, along with seeds and seedlings for planting. It also carried fabrics made from hemp and felt, and other general goods. The driver might have been a peasant on his way home from a trip for supplies, having stocked up on all his daily necessities.
The creature pulling the wagon, however, was very much not an everyday sight.
It carried itself on earth-colored legs, taking one heavy step forward after another. Its eyes were two pitch-black holes that saw nothing. Its body was made up of a mass of rounded clumps, as if a child had piled clay into only the vaguest shape of a horse that bears little resemblance to the actual animal.
A golem horse, fashioned out of earth and animated by magic, is what pulled this otherwise unassuming cart. It was certainly not something that a poor peasant would put to use for a mere shopping trip. A more cynical viewer might say that an animated pile of dirt is a steed more befitting of a commoner, but within that earthen body lay a core of silver mythril, a renowned magical metal. The value of that core was far more than any commoner could ever hope to possess, not just for the precious metal, but for the complex runes etched all along its surface. Why would such a thing be put to use pulling a wagon...? It’s a strange tale.
While we’re on the subject of strange, the person in the driver’s place also looked out-of-place. He wore a tunic woven with metal plates, otherwise called a jack, over leather armor. The man himself bore a striking resemblance to a large boulder. Beneath his close-cropped grey hair, his face was covered with countless scars. The most notable of these was a large sword wound running down the right side of his face, so fresh it seemed that it might split his head open from forehead to chin at any moment. The severe look on his face would cause anyone to suspect him of villainy. Such an expression had surely made more than a few babies break into tears, and caused ladies to turn away in distaste.
In addition to the massive wound down the right side of his face, the left side was similarly marked. A thick, tattoo-like line ran down from his hairline and through his eyebrow, as if it had been purposefully drawn on to provide his visage with some symmetry.
This was no tattoo, however; it had been penned by magic. The line fractured just under his eye, breaking off in all directions. The result looked almost like a black rose.
He scratched at his stubbled jaw with thick fingers, his arms as massive as logs. One could clearly tell that even under his armor, the man was unusually powerful, with solid muscle bulging across his shoulders and down his limbs. It would be easy to imagine such a man had led a life full of swinging swords and brandishing axes.
As he drove his simple cart, the man examined his surroundings with a keen eye.
After a spell, the dense forest gradually thinned out on both sides of the riverbed and a vast field spread out, as if this part of the forest had gone bald. The river-road continued on past the forest’s edge before stopping at the foot of a small hill in the distance. In the center of that field lay a village.
It wasn’t a terribly special village, mind you. Certainly it was nothing compared to the sights of the capital, where this man had once lived. In fact, it looked meager even when compared to the clusters of humble farming communities one could find out in the countryside.
The houses here were little more than holes dug in the ground, out of which sprouted pillars holding up roofs of sod and grass. To put more of a point on it, the people who called this place home lived in pits. And yet, these pits were considerably smaller than one might expect.
This “village” was nothing more than a few dozen of these primitive dwellings surrounded by a simple fence. Some of the pits looked to be in the process of mid-construction, so it was possible that they were still expanding.
Just beyond the fence, a few half-prepared plots of land were scattered here and there. Unseen fires sent up the occasional column of smoke as the man made his way toward the village.
As he approached a break in the fence that passed for an entrance, a small face suddenly popped up from behind the fence.
It belonged to a dog, a white puffball of a puppy, wagging its tail so hard that it threatened to fly off.
The man tugged on the reins to bring the golem to a halt before dropping down from the wagon onto one knee and throwing his arms open wide in invitation.
When the puppy reached the man, it planted its front paws on his knee, then with all its might opened its little mouth and shouted, “Welcome home, King!”
“It’s good to be back.” The man knelt over the small pup, bringing their faces close together. His battle scars, with his features so resembling a carnivorous beast’s, were completely at odds with the gentle look in his eyes as he smiled.
Was he truly smiling, though...?
“Let’s not do this so close to the cart, though. I’ve told you before that it’s dangerous, haven’t I?” The man chided the puppy in a low, calm voice, even as he began to gently pet it.
“Sorry, King! I’ll be more careful.”
“Make sure you do.” The man scooped the tiny dog up into his arms and nuzzled his stubbly cheek against the puppy’s cottony one. The look on his stern face was nothing other than a giddy smile. As he held the puppy against his face, touching noses with it, another dog dashed to his side.
“Your Majesty...!” This one was slightly larger, with amber-colored fur.
More strikingly, this dog was walking on its hind legs.
“You’re his big sister. You need to keep an eye on the little one, or he’ll go running off just like this. That’s no good, right?”
“...’M sorry.” Though the scolding was gentle, the dog hung her head. When the white pup was placed back on solid ground, the amber-colored dog walked up to him...and punched him hard.
“It’s your fault I got in trouble!”
“Owwww! Hey, she hit me!”
“All right, stop fighting.” Scooping both dogs up in his arms, he climbed back into the wagon’s seat, and the three of them made their way into the settlement. When they reached the village square, the cries of welcome resumed:
“Welcome home, Your Highness!”
“We all missed you!”
“Thank you for working so hard!”
The cart came to a stop, and dogs began crowding all around it.
Astonishingly, every single one of them walked on its hind legs, like the amber-colored pup. The younger ones ran about unclothed, but some of the older-looking dogs wore simple tunics from hide or bark. Others draped animal pelts over their shoulders. In their paws, they held axes and farming tools, pans and clay pots.
Despite their appearances, these weren’t dogs at all.
They were an entirely different race—kobolds.
Neither dogs nor beastmen, kobolds were instead bonafide members of the fairy species.
The giant of a man welcomed all the kobolds that ran up to him with their tails wagging, patting some on the head and greeting others. After he made his rounds, he began unloading the various goods from his wagon.
“Oh, he’s unpacking!”
“Let me help you with that!”
“Me too, me too!”
They pushed against one another, each one trying to get closer to the cart ahead of the others. Everywhere you might look, tails were wagging out of excitement and joy.
The huge, imposing man smiled right back at them.
This man’s name...was Gaius.
Sir Gaius Beldarus; captain of the Knights of the Chain, the royal guard of the kingdom of Igris; and baron to the house of Beldarus.
At least, those had once been his titles. No longer, however. He had left all of that behind.
Kobold King—monster. The leader or highest-ranking member of a tribe of kobolds.
That one line was the only definition for the term, recorded in the Monster Encyclopedia of the Igris Adventurers’ Guild.
That was this man’s current title.