Chapter 32 - 31

Chapter 32: Chapter 31 Several modest carriages, purchased for trading, rested near a small marketplace. Hygiene had also visibly improved. Although they hadn’t yet completed a proper sewer system, pit latrines, chamber pots, and makeshift outhouses over the river had been constructed as temporary solutions. Skitz looked a bit embarrassed reporting this shortfall, but Lumberling nodded approvingly. He would personally oversee the sanitation improvements later. The transformation was impressive. The village had evolved into a settlement that could rival human ones. Skitz had diligently studied and applied the engineering manuals Lumberling had left behind. The original plan was for him to take the lead in construction, but it was clear now that Skitz was more than capable. The old man and the girl watched the thriving community with wide eyes. The market bustled with goblins and kobolds trading using imperial currency. Though the pair couldn’t understand the goblin tongue, the sense of order was unmistakable. Some monsters bowed respectfully to Lumberling as they passed, others followed their lead. Even without understanding, the pair felt the reverence in the air. Aside from the seven evolved leaders they had already met, there were no new hobgoblins or elite kobolds visible. As they continued past the pens and into the farmland, the scent of turned soil and sun-warmed hay filled the air. Goblins stooped over neat rows of wildroot and stoneleaf, their calloused hands working with practiced rhythm. Crude wooden tools had been fashioned—hoes, rakes, even a small plow pulled by a boar. The old man stood at the edge of the field, unmoving. Lumberling noticed his expression and paused. "Something wrong, old man?" The old man didn’t answer right away. He took a step toward the fence, resting a hand on the post as he watched a young goblin struggling to bind a tomato-like vine to a trellis. The knot slipped, and the goblin cursed under his breath. "I was a fieldhand, you know," the old man finally said. "Back in my youth. Gardens, orchards, animals—you name it. My son told me to stop, said I’d break my back again if I kept at it. But..." He smiled softly, eyes still fixed on the goblin struggling with the vine. "There’s something about soil under your nails that reminds you you’re still alive." Lumberling tilted his head. "So, you’re saying you want to help?" "If my Lord permits, I’d like to lend a hand. These young ones... they’re doing their best, but some of their rows are shallow, and the crop spacing’s too tight. As for the livestock, I noticed the pigs are getting a bit lean. Might be time to rotate feed or clean out parasites." Skitz, who had been silently observing, glanced at Lumberling, clearly intrigued. "You were a farmhand?" Skitz asked. "We could use help. Our yield is decent, but sometimes the harvests rot in the field. And we lost three goats last month to sickness." The old man gave a firm nod. "Let me look at your feed stores, tools, and crop layout. I’ll draw up a rotation schedule and teach a few of your goblins proper pruning and grafting." "Looks like you just hired yourself, old man," Lumberling said with a smirk. The old man smiled sheepishly. "I’m not asking for coin. Just purpose." "You’ve earned that and more," Lumberling said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Report to Skitz tomorrow morning. You’ll be in charge of agricultural oversight. And if you need more hands, just ask." Skitz bowed slightly to the old man. "I look forward to learning, sir." From a few steps behind, Jen beamed with pride. "My grandpa is the best gardener ever," she said, hands on her hips. "Even our carrots used to look like fists!" Laughter followed. Even the goblins nearby chuckled in their own gravelly way. Lumberling looked at the pair and felt a weight lift in his chest. Not every battle was fought with swords. Some were won in muddy boots and calloused hands. And now, the village had gained not just a farmhand—but a caretaker, a guide, and perhaps even a teacher. "The current population stands at 276," Skitz reported. "Goblins and kobolds combined." "Good. Have you built accommodations for the injured and pregnant?" "Yes, Lord. We’ve constructed two separate facilities—one for each. However, we lack permanent caretakers. We rely on traditional methods—herbs and oral knowledge. With improved hygiene, only one birthing death occurred this year, and two hunters succumbed to injuries." "I see. Have you acquired any medical books?" "We’ve collected some, my Lord." "Good. Bring them to my room later. I’ll review them." Lumberling hadn’t tasked Skitz with medical responsibilities, knowing he was already burdened with administrative duties, the village’s infrastructure, security, and governance. Still, the foresight to collect books was appreciated. "Skitz," Lumberling said, turning toward the pair beside him. "Show the old man and Jen to their rooms." He glanced back at the pair, his voice gentle. "Rest for now. We’ll gather again tonight." "Yes, my Lord," the old man replied, still somewhat overwhelmed. "Okay, brother," Jen chirped, holding tightly to his hand, her wide eyes now filled with wonder rather than fear. Skitz gave a nod and led them toward the residential area, while Lumberling turned his gaze back to the heart of the village—his village. There was still much to be done, but for now, he allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. Lumberling returned to his room, took a bath, and lay down on his bed. As he closed his eyes, a stray thought drifted into his mind. Why weren’t some of his skills—like construction and engineering—listed in his status window? He had wondered about it before, but with everything that had happened, the thought had slipped away. Curious, he opened his status window and focused on the non-combat skills he possessed—those beyond his Knight training. To his surprise, a second window appeared beside the main one. Life Skills: Engineering and Construction (Advanced Lv. 1) Drawing (Intermediate Lv. 4) Mechanics (Intermediate Lv. 1) Cooking (Low Lv. 8) Piano (Low Lv. 6) Crafting (Low Lv. 4) Calligraphy (Low Lv. 3) Driving (Low Lv. 2) Singing (Low Lv.1) Dancing (Low Lv. 1) Guitar (Beginner Lv. 8) Pottery (Beginner Lv. 7) Sewing (Beginner Lv. 5) Hunting (Beginner Lv. 2) Butchering (Beginner Lv. 1) Tracking (Beginner Lv. 1) ’So even piano made it here? Huh.’ These were the vestiges of his former life—the skills of a well-rounded man in a modern world. They had quietly come with him into this one, buried beneath his combat focus. Now, with this second panel, he understood. The status window didn’t grant abilities. It merely reflected what already existed. It was a mirror, not a teacher. The tiered structure was also clearer now. After Beginner came Low, then Intermediate, followed by Advanced. Though he didn’t know what level he must reach to advance in rank. Satisfied, he exhaled, letting his thoughts drift. Soon, sleep took him. Several hours passed. He opened his eyes to the golden light of dusk filtering through the wooden shutters. The air smelled faintly of cooked meat and damp soil—a reminder that his people were already preparing the night’s welcome. He freshened up and stepped outside to rejoin his people. "My Lord, everyone is waiting for you," Skitz informed him. "Lead the way." As they arrived, the goblins and kobolds gathered in the plaza broke into a cheer. "He kept his promise!" "He returned! I told you he would!" "He is our Lord—the one who showed us how to grow strong!" "We welcome our Lord’s return!" Lumberling raised a hand in greeting, smiling. "I see many new faces. Thank you for your hard work." With the crowd’s excitement still echoing around them, the naming ceremony began. The hobgoblins and elite kobolds stepped forward and knelt before him. Lumberling approached the first hobgoblin, the one Skitz had mentioned earlier. "You’ve served as a captain and earned your place. Through your cunning and victories, I name you Krivex. Let your mind be the snare that ensnares kings." Skitz had told him this goblin was exceptional—quick to learn, sharper than most. Though he still lagged slightly behind Skitz in raw ability, his promotion to captain in Lumberling’s absence was no small feat. "Thank you, my Lord," Krivex said, bowing deeply. Lumberling turned to the next hobgoblin. "I hear you followed in your captain’s footsteps and earned your own evolution." "He is strong," the hobgoblin said, grinning, "but you are stronger, my Lord." "By blood spilled and bones shattered, I name you Gorrak. Let your rage be the hammer that breaks your foes." "Thank you, my Lord." The third hobgoblin was named Vrak. The elite kobolds followed. One by one, they stepped forward and received their names: Kaznark, Zarn, Tarnix, and Izzek. Each of them showed potential that, if nurtured, might one day rival that of true Knights. They would become the core of this growing force. When the ceremony concluded, the newly named hobgoblins and kobolds knelt once more. The younger goblins and kobolds—those born during Lumberling’s absence—followed suit. "We swear in the name of Shuth’raal to serve Lord Lumberling for all eternity!" they chanted in their native tongue. Though the language was foreign, Lumberling understood them clearly. "I, Lumberling, accept you all as my subordinates." The entire village erupted in cheers. The scent of roasted meat filled the air as goblins and kobolds dug in with gusto, laughter rising beneath the stars. The bonfire still crackled, casting flickering shadows over the faces of feasting goblins and kobolds. Most of the village had settled into the festivities, drinking, laughing, and sharing tales. But off to the side, Lumberling sat on a carved log bench, watching the celebration unfold. Gobo1 shuffled over, his crooked grin gleaming under the firelight. A boar leg dangled from his hand, half-eaten. "My Lord," Gobo1 said, flopping down beside him unceremoniously, "you came back! We all bet you’d return, but Gobo2 thought you got eaten by a bear." From the other side, Gobo2—mouth full of meat—mumbled, "Did not! I said maybe a big bear, not a normal one!" Lumberling chuckled. "Well, it’s a good thing I’m still in one piece." Gobo1 leaned back and looked up at the stars. "When you left, things were... hard. Skitz kept us in line, but lots of goblins thought maybe you’d forgotten us. Not me though. I always said, ’Lumberling’s not like the other humans. He made us more than just monsters.’" Gobo2 scratched his head. "It’s true. Before you came, we were just hunt-eat-sleep. Now we build stuff. We count numbers. We trade. We even... have clean butts." Lumberling laughed again, genuinely this time. Gobo1 nudged him. "I even learned to read a little, thanks to the notes you left. Still mess up the curly letters, but Skitz says I’m smarter than a rock now." "Don’t sell yourself short," Lumberling said softly. "You’re all more than what the world thinks." Gobo1 turned serious for a moment. "You know, I used to think getting strong was just about hitting harder. But now... it’s different. We fight for each other now. We build because this place—it feels like ours. Like home." A lump caught in Lumberling’s throat as he looked out at the glowing village. Home. The word had always been fleeting in his life—something torn away, lost in fire or forgotten with time. But here, among monsters and runaways, something real was forming. "I didn’t expect this," he murmured. "When I started, I was just surviving. Now..." "Now you’re the guy with the big chair and the big problems," Gobo2 said, slapping him on the back. "But don’t worry, we’re all behind you. Even if you get eaten by a huge bear." Gobo1 stood and gave him a small, mock salute. "We’re with you, my Lord. Not ’cause you made us kneel—but because you gave us something worth kneeling for." The two goblins walked off, laughing and shoving each other, disappearing into the glow of the firelight. Lumberling remained for a while, alone on the bench, staring up at the stars. His chest felt heavy—but not in pain. It was the weight of something new. Legacy. And for once, it didn’t feel so lonely.