And needed it. The ointment was spread sparingly across many of her siblings by the time they had all tired each other out. Nothing more serious than a cracked finger or torn scale, things that would have perhaps scarred without Kori’s ministrations with the ointment, but plentiful across the dozens of younglings involved. Though there may have also been a concussion, but not a lot an ointment is going to do for that. When all was said and done, the pot with its scant remaining residue of ointment was returned to its place in Kori’s den.

  I wonder if I can still make more of this? It’s not like they’d stop me since they haven’t figured it out yet themselves.

  The efforts of her siblings did not go unappreciated, or even unsuccessful. Kori found things just a little better afterwards, her anger and anguish given a more visceral outlet than her yelling and arguing had.

  Settled in for a much more restful night, though still mourning the loss of her sleeping mats, she managed to make it through the night with only a few hours of wakefulness spent trying various tactics of producing the spell forms she’d been practicing.

  “I wonder if Plk will show me that little mana bolt… It’s probably harder to cast but maybe something more practical than light will help?” Musing to herself as she continued to try and fail to form her mana into any appreciable shape. It’s not like everyone couldn’t see fine without the spell, so aside from being simple to cast it wasn’t exactly useful.

  The next few days passed in relative peace for Kori. Her siblings around to share a meal in the mornings before she spent the days practicing mana control sat against the wall in the main chamber, after being admonished for hiding away in her den the first day by the minders at least. She was still unable to do more than create ripples on the surface of the blob of mana above her hand. The most frustrating part for Kori, at least ignoring the inability to actually shape the mana, that all her work hadn’t managed to garner another level in [Mana Control]. In fact, she still remained at the first level in that particular skill despite all of her time spent trying to make use of it.

  On the third day after the brawl, Korse approached in the early afternoon her while she practiced, her three blobs of mana finally forming a ‘ring’, insomuch as three circles can overlap at their edges and have a space in the middle. The strain caused by a third construct just as debilitating as her first attempt and caused her to lose control after only moments. To all outward appearances her intense concentration looking much more akin to constipation. Especially if they lacked the ability to sense mana, which most observers did.

  “Kori, pardon the interruption. May I have a word?” His tone not his usual upbeat and familiar, but more cordial while being somewhat formal. A tone she knows full well, as he only uses it with her when it’s something official as an Elder.

  “Of course, Broodkeeper.” Sticking to the same tone, the one she had ingrained in her months serving as Ortik’s aid during the Elder’s meetings.

  Her response garners a smile from Korse. She may not see it since her mind has been dominated by thoughts of magic, but she learned a great deal in her time as Ortik’s apprentice and Korse’s pride was plain for anyone else to see, regardless of the outcome.

  Walking into his alcove of a workspace with Kori in tow, she notes a pot of tea sitting on his table as well as a pair of cups. Nearly out of habit she checks the pot, finding it piping hot and ready to be served before pouring them each a cup. After a moment she finds his own little pot, similar to the one containing her ointment, and extracts a drop of honey to add to Korse’s cup. A rare indulgence on his part.

  Her time spent with the Elders taught her that honey was one of the major items traded with Whatzakt in large supply, given the lack of any viable sweetener in their underground ecosystem. Beekeeping was a large industry in the region surrounding the surface town, propped up almost entirely by the Kobolds demand for it. Partially used in their cooking, but the vast majority of it dedicated to the brewing of meads and other alcohols.

  “Thank you.” Gesturing to the pot of honey, “Would you care for a dollop?”

  “I would, thank you.” Adding a drop to her own. If she were honest, she finds it to be a bit cloying but does enjoy the addition.

  After savoring the first sip of his tea, a pleasurable sigh escaping before he begins to speak, “Today was the first time I’d been at the Elder’s meeting since your departure. Apparently Ortik had failed to mention the nature of your absence having changed from ‘Circle business’ these last few days.” Shaking his head, a bit exasperated with Ortik’s handling of the situation. “When I commented to him about your improving state of mind, it led to questions and it caused a bit of a stir.”

  “Blonc was particularly upset, given the Circle’s inability to reproduce your ointment as of yet. Especially so when the details of your ongoing training being on hold until the appropriate time. A point which caused no end of grumbling I might add; it follows the letter of the rules, but no one else can ever recall it having been applied in this manner.” His brow furrowed and his tone indicating that he had clearly argued as such to no avail. “A bit of a compromise was reached. You have been invited as a guest to visit with the trappers. While there, you are welcome to use their own quite expansive work space and tools, which I suggest you cleanse thoroughly, as they normally use them to mix poisons and whatnot for their traps.”

  “So, they want me to make more ointment for them. Why can’t I just do that in Ortik’s workshop like before?” Pondering on her own question, “Is it because then it’s ‘Circle business’ again and they’d get mad?”

  “More or less, yes.” Agreeing with her assessment of the situation. “There was also an invitation from Aldr that was much the same. Their facilities are more suited for larger volume production, so it may help in creating more at the same time, but they are busier and you would have to work between their own uses of the work space, or assist in them if you were so inclined.”

  “Does Elder Bolst still have that door latch?” Nostalgia at the thought of the modified door that had finally stymied her wanderings and how she hated being constrained. The thought of learning it’s workings, and any other device that attempted to block her path, so that she could bypass such in the future always somewhere in the back of her mind. Suppressed by the draw of magics, but still there.” I still wanna take that apart and play with it if I can get a chance.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “You will need to ask him. I take it you are amenable to the invitation?” A knowing smile on his face, though whether he knows the full extent of her ambitions in lock breaking is hard to tell.

  “Sure. Sitting around trying to corral my mana all day is kinda boring… I can only practice so much.”

  Pointing to their cups and the teapot, “Then let us finish our tea and head over. I would suggest spending a few days at the brewery though before your two months are up though.”

  The two fall into a much more familiar tone as they chat over their tea. The topic dominated by a retelling of the recent brawl in the brood chamber and Kori’s antics there in. “You should have seen Wlde’s face when I pounced him. He was so surprised he lost control of Plk under him and ended up pinned instead. Then Ujr shouldered us both off of him and…” The telling continued for some time, the end highlighting the fact that everyone was fine after a little bit of ointment spread on their various scratches, slashes, and bashes, most only requiring the barest clawful of the stuff.

  Korse can’t help but smile and laugh along at her retelling of the story, her mischievous joy in the event something he’d been sad she’d previously held herself back from. Not to say she hadn’t fought with her siblings before, but it always seemed to be out of necessity rather than the simple fun of it. Kobolds might consider themselves be among the more civilized races of the world, well and above the ignoramus goblins they are sometimes compared to, a comparison they take immense offence to, but at the end of the day they really did love a good scrap sometimes.

  With the tale ended and the tea much the same, the pair head out to one of the highest points in all of Emberscale Caverns. The tunnels there on a steady and winding incline their entire way. Situated near the edge of what they consider their territory and the main tunnels to the surface, closer to where they spend their days working on the defenses that keep unwelcome guests from entering from any of the tunnels except the single ‘trade path’. Though it is generally their own traders that bring goods out and seldom others who enter.

  The trapper’s workshop looks nothing like Kori had expected, she wasn’t entirely certain of what she had expected, but this wasn’t it. The large cavern housing contraptions of wood and metal in various states of assembly with Kobolds scurrying over them like ants on food, working on this part or that. Several enlarged corridors pass from the room, tall enough for three kobolds standing on one another’s shoulders to pass unimpeded, each leading into a different type of workshop for various tasks and purposes. Several of those larger tunnels blocked by stout gates crafted from thick logs anchored in stone, smooth and without joining or seams showing it was clearly assembled with earth magics. Each gate barred with an equally large beam of wood across its width and attached to ropes to raise or lower them.

  Her eyes light up at the sight of the many unidentifiable devices being worked on in the chamber. To one side a mage in a brown robe taking meter long shards of stone and shaping them into sharp spikes of a uniform shape and size. Another a pair of Kobolds carving logs of wood and attaching smaller stone spikes into its surface. A final working with something much more complex, a wooden stave bent with a string held taut between its ends and affixed to a mechanism with a channel in it that looks like it could hold something to be propelled.

  After walking past all the fantastical examples of their craft, each harder to puzzle out the workings of at first glance than the previous. Each calling to her to be understood. They approached one of the few passageways that was not oversized. While smaller in size, the level of attention to its security was much higher than any of the others. A warrior stands, well he was sitting until he saw Korse and sprang up to stand rigidly, by the doorway. The door itself similar to the one to Ortik’s residence Stone slabs stood upright, hinged on a post of magically reinforced stone to ensure that it opens freely.

  Unlike all of the other passages into this space whose doors appear to hinge inwards, this door pushes out, its size exceeding that of the frame by several inches. Her curiosity peaked, which after the room of barely understood contraptions didn’t exactly take much, Kori asks the obvious question, “Why?” While gesturing to the door.

  “Hmm?” Following her direction, “Oh, the safety door. This leads to Bolst’s work space. He has a habit of working on some… Volatile… Creations. We installed this a few years ago after he spilled some of the poison he was working with into an open flame. The smoke cleared the entire workshop.” Grimacing at the memory of the event. “Once it settled, it took weeks to clean. Somehow the residue left behind by it was even poisonous to the cave slimes… Those things are practically immune to poisons so it was a shock.”

  After laughing for a moment and with a bit more levity in his voice, “Bolst and Kora were the only ones who could even do the cleaning, and Kora had to take many breaks to be treated by the Circle. Leveled her poison resistance nearly a full tier though.” A beaming smile of pride for his eldest, “A few of the others worked at the outskirts to level their own, but they were the only ones with it high enough at the start.”

  Once through the door she finds the long corridor onward makes a pair of sharp turns, nearly turning back on itself to the left then taking just as sharp a turn to the right to return to a straight heading. Seeing her curious look as they walk, “Another precaution, hoping to arrest the progress of anything he lets loose…”

  The door at the end is much the same as the one they had passed through to enter, clearly with whatever history of mishaps Bolst had they were taking no chances with safety.

  Opening the final door Kori is stopped dead in her tracks by the sights before her. Whatever she was expecting of Bolst’s personal work space, the neatly arrayed shelves of glass vessels and apparatuses arrayed across various metal work surfaces, several of which appeared to be dappled with pockmarks and lightly scorched, was definitely not it.

  A pair of Kobolds, both in long tunics reaching nearly to the floor with sleeves covering them to the wrist, working at the tables look up as they enter. One older and covered in scars, burns, and evidence of past injury, Elder Bolst. The other she had never met before. Though between the broad smile on Korse’s face upon seeing her and the knowledge that the young woman was the heir apparent to the Elder’s seat, it was easy enough to guess.

  The man was the Clan’s Master Trapcrafter, his many years of building pitfalls, tripwires, pressure plates and other countermeasures as the first line of defense to invasion leading him to be one of the highest leveled members of the entire clan. His passion for traps having apparently led him in the direction of augmenting others traps at this stage in his class rather than crafting his own. Increasing the effectiveness of his juniors work while sharing in the spoils.

  The woman of course would be Kora, the young woman only nine years her senior but already a standout amongst the trappers for her knowledge and for being one of the few that could follow Bolst in his less than orthodox direction of work.

  “Korse!” Running over to give him a hug, only pausing at the last moment as she looks down at the stained and pitted work tunic, not seeing anything immediately concerning she embraces him. “It’s good to see you!” Turning to the younger visitor, “And you must be Kori. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” Offering her hand out to shake.

  Grasping her hand, Kori’s attention still enraptured by the incredibly well-appointed work room, “Hi! There’s just so much here! Why’s it all glass? And what’s that bit with the flame coming out of it? Why not a fire rune instead of an open flame? Isn’t that dangerous?” The questions just fall out of her like stones in a cave in. Both Korse and Kora are left speechless for a few moments until Kora breaks down laughing, more questions still coming from the youngling.

  Between bouts of laughter Kora finally gets a word in when Kori pauses when she runs out of breath, almost like she’d forgotten the necessity in her effort to ask her many questions. “She’s exactly as you said. I think I’m going to like having my little sister around”

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