Sashalia felt the familiar burning sensation in her nose that meant tears would soon be following. She looked down into the bowl in her lap and took another swig of the medicine. She picked up a handkerchief beside her bed and pretended to wipe her mouth, instead catching the tears before they fell all the way down her cheeks.
“By the by, there’s going to be a meeting tonight. Might bore you to tears, but I’d like you to be there,” said the elder.
“Really? Can I?”
“Of course. I’ll send one of the young ones to come and help you—hm?” The elder’s ears twitched. “There it is again...some kid’s making spirit calls again. All that chirping sure is annoying.”
Sashalia remembered hearing the name before; someone had used it the day the children were attacked by adventurers. “That’s right, there’s a child out there who has shamanistic abilities, right? And the ability to use spirit calls is proof of that?”
The elder nodded. “Back in the day, our ancestors used them to communicate with spirits that couldn’t manifest in this world. But now, it’s nothing but annoying noise. There’s something a little depressing about it, too.”
Just then Sashalia felt as though lightning had struck her, and she bolted upright. Even her paralyzed leg tingled. She turned and grabbed the elder’s shoulders tightly.
“Ho ho, what’s the matter?” he chuckled, but the smile faded from his face once he saw how intently Sashalia was staring at him. The weary, self-pitying listlessness was gone, replaced by a tight-lipped, burning stare.
“Please, elder. Tell me everything you know about it.”
＊
By dusk, the rainfall had finally stopped. The homemakers all returned to their homes to prepare dinner, while everyone else set about the daily chores they’d been unable to do in the rain. The children raced about the plaza, trying to get in a little more play before the sun disappeared completely.
The elder sat on a log they used as a bench, taking a break. A lone human approached him: Gaius Beldarus.
“May I join you?”
“Hmph. If you want.”
Gaius took a seat beside the kobold, who continued to watch the children play.
“Elder... You know, I don’t believe I’ve heard your real name before.”
“It’s Burning Quartz Flying Knuckle Handaxe of Powerful Magic Delicious.”
“Sir Delicious, I—”
“Just call me ‘elder.’ So, what did you want to talk about?” They both continued to stare straight ahead as they spoke, neither turning to face the other.
“This morning, Red Eye and the others came to me with a request.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“They asked me to be the village chief, in order to see us through this crisis.”
“Is that so?”
“They’d like me to give them my answer at tonight’s meeting.”
“Yeah?” The elder scratched behind his ear.
“And...they told me this was your idea. That you’ve been suggesting it to the whole village.”
“Hm... Did I do that? Can’t quite recall.”
“Why, elder? They already have you.”
“This village needs a real leader—one who can protect it.”
“But I’m a human. Surely a kobold would be better suited for the role. Red Eye does a wonderful job of leading the others in farming, and Rain Grass is a brave warrior who always looks out for others.”
“They don’t know anything about the outside world.”
“If you only need me for my skills, then I can act as a guard. Shouldn’t the village be led by one of your own?”
“You really are dense, you know that?”
“I’m afraid I hear that quite often.”
“Don’t you get it...? They want you to lead them. They want to follow you.” The elder’s face appeared strained, but he continued. “You’ve had plenty of chances to leave. But every time, you stayed—and you saved us from those humans. Even though you know they might return with a much bigger army, you still haven’t made a run for it. Truth be told, I don’t even care that you’re human anymore. You care about this village, and everyone trusts you. That’s enough for me.”
Gaius listened in silence, at a loss for words.
“You know as well as I do that the younger ones won’t listen to me. They only agree with me on this because it’s something they already wanted.”
“And are you okay with this?”
“Hah! Of course not! It’ll be the death of our pure kobold history and traditions!” The elder huffed, puffed, and fumed—but his protests were a little too exaggerated. They both fell silent, and for a while, the only voices in the plaza were the delighted cries of the young kobolds at play.
“...Sure are cute, aren’t they...” the village elder said, breaking the silence.
“Adorable!”
“But I...I left them all behind. I ran away.” The elder paused, and Gaius realized that the old kobold was trembling. He turned away once again. “On that day...I lost my wife, and my son and daughter...only one of my granddaughters survived.
“From what I heard, my son...he was stabbed by a spear. My wife and grandchildren were stuffed into a bag by those adventurers, then trampled to death.”
Gaius continued facing away, but nodded to show that he was listening intently.
“And do you know what this doddering old fool did? I just ran, without even knowing what was being done to my own family! I was so damned afraid that I fell and stumbled over myself the whole way, while my poor grandkids were being butchered!”
They both knew that whether or not the elder had stayed, it would not have affected the outcome of that attack. Gaius refrained from telling him what he must have already told himself a hundred times before. In fact, it was because he knew there was nothing he could have done that the village elder was so consumed by grief and regret.
“Do you know what that’s like?! How angry I’ve been?!”
Gaius listened to his pain in silence, sparing the elder the humiliation of seeing his tears. This was not the time for words; waiting patiently as the kobold confessed his deepest feelings was the best reply he could give.
“...I don’t ever want anyone else to go through that. Compared to that, traditions and history don’t mean a thing to me.” The elder stood up and turned his back to Gaius. “You have your reasons. Just be sure to consider everyone else’s, too.”