It has been three months since the orc shaman Farat started teaching me Draconian. He told me that I need to raise a mental attribute first to learn how to cast magic. And the best way to do that is by learning languages. In addition to Draconian, he’s teaching me Orcish, a Goblinoid dialect spoken by orcs.

Meanwhile, the Gorkaki Village began to grow larger with the rumors of my presence. Settlers come here seeking my protection. In all, there are nearly thirty goblins, a dozen hobgoblins, four orcs, and the ogre.

I'm still helping with the hunts when I'm not having my lessons with Farat. The good thing is that the goblins now cook offerings for me. Their food isn't the greatest thing in the world, but it's way better than what I tried to “cook” myself.

Hobgoblins are more difficult to deal with. One of them was trying to make trouble with the goblins. Trying to boss them around. I dragged him to the center of the village and burned one of his hands. Nothing too serious. Just to give a warning for him to understand his role. Now the hobgoblins have fallen into line.

The orcs are calmer than I imagined. Besides Farat, there was a couple that was rescued from the bugbear camp. The female orc was pregnant and recently gave birth. The male spends most of his time hunting.

But from afar, the creature that stands out the most here, after me, is this fellow ogre. He's a mass of flesh and muscle as big as me. I wonder how those bugbears managed to keep him locked up. Maybe because he's stupid. Thanks the hells I’m an educated barbarian. I was starting to think I was dumb because my mental stats were all 0, but Farat said 0 is average. Most monsters have negative Intellect.

 

§ § § § § §

 

"This village is growing too fast." The shaman interrupts our daily lesson to state the obvious.

"More goblins means more cattle in the pens and more offerings in my belly. Good for me."

"Perhaps you'd better start organizing the village's growth. Maybe this will become a city one day..."

"Me?" I question, surprised. "I'm not an architect. The only thing I'm good at is destroying houses, not building them."

"Architect?" The orc grins. "I don't recall teaching you that word."

Oh, shit. I ended up blurting out an English word again.

"You seem quite polite for a barbarian beast. You even know one of the human dialects."

My eyes widen. To my surprise, Farat starts speaking in English.

"You speak English?"

"Halidomite. The main dialect spoken in Halidom, in Koradel continent." He corrects me.

So there's a kingdom on another continent that speaks English? Maybe I'll drop by when I get stronger.

"I see... Ralkor also spoke Engl.. Halidomite to me. But straight into my head."

"The Marching Mountain was an acquaintance of my master. He understood Halidomite, but had trouble with pronunciation. So he preferred to communicate in telepathy when he spoke that language."

"Do you know how he learned?"

"Ralkor is an ancient beast, but he never bothered to learn a language from a distant land. It was my master who taught him." 

"And how did your master learn it?"

"That I never knew. But I assume it was the same way you learned it.”

Wait… Could his master have been reincarnated too? It's entirely possible. Does Farat know?

"Where is your master now?" 

"He died 8 years ago... At the age of 131…" 

The shaman starts staring into space, deep in thought. 

"How old are you again, wyrmling?" 

"I already told you... 39 years." I reply, annoyed. 

"Curious..."

"What?"

"My master was born exactly one hundred years before you."

"And what does that mean?"

"Well, that I don't know either." He laughs at his own lack of knowledge.

But... Hold on... Did he do all the age math thing in his head?

"You are too smart for a druid." I mocked him.

"My master taught me well."

"Hmm… and how old are you, orc? You don't look that old."

"I'm 27 years old." He answers.

Haha. I've spent more time than that hibernating.

"Are you going to live as long as your master?"

"I highly doubt it. My master was a troll. They live twice as long as us orcs. And I'll probably die of the plague from the filth this village will get if it keeps growing like this."

"Ugh... Fine!" I let out a grunt. "Call the elder goblin. Let's sort this out."

 

§ § § § § §

 

In the following days, Farat and I paused our lessons to organize the village. First of all, I'm not good with these things, so the best course of action now is to delegate tasks. 

Each must be given a role.

Look at this group of bluish goblins. Farat told me they are gremlins, a type of goblin known for their ingenuity. The shaman advises that they should be responsible for more detailed functions, such as making tools. Almost all of the tools here are made of stone and few are made of copper.

The other goblins will be responsible for the resources: hunting, cutting wood, herding, farming, and stone mining. The hobgoblins will be in charge of building the houses since their sense of organization is better. This way, the village won't be full of crap. One of the hobgoblins plans to build a blacksmith forge. Having more copper and possibly iron will be a valuable asset for the gremlins. And finally, the ogre... The beast of burden that handles the heavy-duty tasks.

The major issue now is the lack of wood in the village, as it is situated in a nearly treeless steppe. However, Farat mentioned having a plan to address this matter. He also stated that this will be my first lesson in druidism.

 

§ § § § § §

It is a full moon night. Some beasts howl in the distance. The shaman Farat has spent the past week preparing for this ritual. He asked the goblins to scatter seeds over an area the size of a football field.

Under the moonlight, the orc begins to perform his ritual. I can feel a great surge of power emanating from him and bathing the land. Soon, I see buds sprouting everywhere. The seedlings grow quickly and become trees. Before my eyes, I witness a forest emerging out of nowhere.

"I didn't know you were that strong." I acknowledge him.

"Perhaps... The power to create is much more demanding than the power to destroy. I have spent my entire life training to master this type of magic. But you could have set fire to all of this since the day you hatched from your egg."

It's true. Even as a hatchling, I could set a forest ablaze. 

"And as you grow, you will be able to bring even more destruction to the world." 

I can see the sorrow in the shaman's white eyes. 

"So why are you helping me?" 

"Hope."

"Hope?" I ask, not understanding the meaning. 

"I am hopeful that when the time comes, you will choose to protect this world over helping it to burn."

"Protect? From what?" 

 

...

 

"This world is full of terrors, wyrmling. Great evils lurking in the shadows. Tell me, Akalani, the Red Sky, what will be your role? Will you fight them or will you join them?"