Chapter Two-Hundred Eighty-Seven

Chapter Two-Hundred Eighty-Seven

Aranya

It’s times like these that make her appreciate just how much work Larx, Vernew, Folarn, and Norloke do. She likes to think she’s been doing an admirable job of learning to delegate without just being lazy, but she’s had precious few to delegate to with regards to her people.

At least Lord Thedeim’s second church is going smoothly. The ratkin and spiderkin priests have been providing a wonderful example to inspire the townsfolk, and thanks to how well they get along with the Shield, the people of Silvervein don’t feel the need to be concerned about any power struggles between the churches.

The Shield has been getting the greater share of new followers, which Aranya fully understands. It has no connection with a dungeon, and after getting out from under one, most of the pale elves and dwarves are wary about joining up with another. She wonders if they would have been driven out of town if not for the clear wave of divinity released from Lord Thedeim’s ascension.

Curiosity about that event got many feet through the door, and His message of love and self-improvement kept many there. From what she’s been able to tell, the Shield has been gathering those possessing more of a martial bent, while Lord Thedeim is attracting those more inclined toward crafting of differing types. Here in Silvervein, that mostly means a variety of cooks, though many are starting to branch out now.

And though Lord Thedeim’s influence is growing smoothly, her own people are having a much more difficult time adjusting. A few kobolds have decided to follow Him, but a great many more are having difficulties deciding anything!

Right now, they’re still trying to figure out what to do without the Maw. A few stubbornly want to stay in Silvervein, but the vast majority are in favor of a clean break, a chance to direct their own path. Unfortunately, it seems like everyone has their own idea for what path they should all take!

Some of the more rebellious youth think they should try to take over Silvervein, which at least nobody else is taking seriously. No, the real discord is over where to go and what to do once there. She, of course, argues they should come to Fourdock and join one or more of Lord Thedeim’s enclaves. Unsurprisingly, there’s resistance to that idea.

Much like the rest of Silvervein, the kobolds are not eager to bind themselves to another dungeon. Most of the elder kobolds seem interested, recognizing how different Lord Thedeim is from the Maw, but her own grandfather is among the voices that dissent from the idea. Aranya is starting to wonder if he just likes being contrary, as he doesn’t have any other suggestions for where to go, recognizing the lack of other options.

They could go to Fourdock and attempt to formally immigrate, but considering how closely they work with Him, the kobolds at large don’t see much distinction between Fourdock and an enclave. But what else can they do? Just wander off into the Deeps?

They know how poorly they get treated out there. Her grandfather was among the first kobolds born under the Maw, and he knows well the tales of how much worse the outside was for kobolds. Many others would have simply killed the group of kobolds, instead of keeping them in captivity. The youth argue what is worse, while the older ones accept that a sliver of hope is better than nothing at all.

Aranya sighs as she sits in the kobold enclave, watching them mostly go about their lives. They’re stuck, without understanding how much better things are beyond the rut they live in. They’ve survived there for so long, leaving it is still frightening, even with the opportunities at their fingertips.

She spots Tarl enter the enclave, but can’t even muster the energy to wave as he approaches. Trying to convince her people has just been so frustrating.

“Hey Aranya. Looks like you’re doing well,” he greets with a sarcastic smile before sitting against the wall next to her. “Still no progress?”

“No,” she sighs again. “Everyone has their own ideas for what to do, but it feels like there’s no desire to actually follow through on them! They’d rather have the stability of misery than risk what little they have on hope.”

Tarl nods at that. “Sounds about right. I’ve seen delvers consistently come back from delves with broken bones, but refuse suggestions to do something different. ‘I know how to deal with a broken arm. Trying something else could be even worse.’”

Aranya perks up slightly, as Tarl at least understands how she feels in this. “Do they ever change?”

He thinks for a few moments before shaking his head. “Not often. They think it works, as much as that kind of pain is ‘working’. Usually it takes something forcing them out of the habit. The shop being out of potions, or maybe a delve goes wrong and shows them how thin their margin of victory was, or any number of other things that force them to change.”

Tarl smiles and stands, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think they want to lose you, either. You’ve shown them things can change, and despite how much I bet they’ll complain about it, they don’t want to miss out.”

She smiles at him before taking her leave, the elf returning to relaxing against the wall and letting her do her duty to her people. Thankfully, it’s not difficult to find who she needs to give the message to.

Her grandfather is still in his small dug out hovel, sitting on a basin of gravel as the most comfortable thing he has. With scales, it’s not bad, but her friends were not impressed with it before they headed out to explore outside for a couple days. The aged kobold looks up from his own contemplations and smiles warmly for her.

“Ah, Granddaughter. I was worried the others had badgered you clear out of the enclave after the last meeting. I hope you’re not too discouraged,” he probes as he reaches a hand up for her to help him to his feet.

She shakes her head as she pulls him up. “At first, but they’ve made things clear to me.”

“Oh?”

She nods. “I won’t make the choice for the entire enclave, but I will make them make a choice. I’m leaving in a week, along with the rest of Lord Thedeim’s scions. I want you all to come with me, though you are all free to stay here, or go somewhere else, if you wish.”

Her grandfather’s eyes widen. “A week? Surely you can give us more time?”

“No, grandfather. I’ve given you all time, given you all the information I have to give. It’s on you now, to act on it.”

“But only a week...” he tries, before getting shut down.

“We’ve had more than long enough to discuss it, and you know it.” Her hard look softens as she meets his eyes. “I know how uncertain everything is if you all come with me. But can you honestly tell me you’d rather stay here where the ghost of the Maw shades every memory? Don’t you want to see something new, something better?”

“We’d be on our own out there...” he quietly replies, echoing the hardships told of the times before the Maw.

“We wouldn’t, that’s the whole point. I’ll be there. My friends will be there. Lord Thedeim will be there. We don’t have to be isolated.”

He puts shaking arms around her and holds onto his granddaughter for support. “It’s all so much... so many horror stories of outside. Even you had a harrowing journey after escaping the Maw, only barely surviving...”

She wraps her arms around him, supporting and comforting him. “I know... but you know what I think the most important thing to learn from that is? Alone, I was miserable. Together, things improved. Lord Thedeim found me, fed me, saved me. Yvonne, Aelara, and Ragnar gave me friendship. Fourdock in general gave me acceptance. We can’t close ourselves off from others, even when we make a mistake in who to trust. I’ve found people to trust. Now you all need to learn to trust yourselves enough to accept help, without fear of misjudging once again.”

She kneels with him as the tears flow, a lifetime of hardship and dashed hopes pouring out of her grandfather. She holds him close as he clings to her, desperately holds onto the hope she offers, and she supports him the whole while. Even if his grip should falter, he doesn’t need to be the only one holding on. Her own strength won’t be enough to drag him up to a better tomorrow, but she knows what he’s struggling to accept: they’re not alone.

Not anymore.