Expansion - Chapter 6

 

6 – Helvar – Protectors and Forge-Breath

Helvar sips hot, roasted root-brew from his stoneware mug as he watches the Legionnaires distribute packets of Forge‑Breath. The goblins stand in a long line on their side of the cavern, each one stepping forward to receive a wrapped packet while a Legionnaire checks their name off the slate. Helvar may not like the Legion, but he has to admit they are efficient.

He notices a female goblin and an elder watching the distribution from the side.

Curious, he steps into his office in the Chapel and pulls the slate list of suspected ‘troublemakers’ the Legion compiled. He hasn’t interviewed all the Protectors yet — and he needs to change that. Maybe he’ll start with her.

He refills his mug with sikah‑nahkaw‑mihtaa.

The priests frown behind his back when he speaks Mishikwe, but some words simply work better. “Bitter‑root drink” is far more beautiful than chikor‑tal or durm‑tal.

He finds her name on the list: Veshka Stone‑Waki.

He tucks a barkskin and stylus into the pocket of his acolyte‑brown robe, then fills a cloth cup with the hot drink before heading back to the cavern.

The line is nearly finished. Helvar smiles to himself as he notes the order: the strongest and most able‑bodied goblins are the last to receive food. That means the elders and children were fed first. Good, he thinks. They still take care of their own.

He spots Veshka at the back of the line and moves to the boundary rope.

When she receives her Forge‑Breath packet, he nods to the Legionnaire and remains on his side of the dividing line.

“Veshka. Veshka Stone‑Waki,” Helvar calls, clear but polite.

She steps closer to the rope. “I am Veshka Stone‑Waki. How can I help you?” she replies in accented Durask.

Helvar lifts the cloth cup and switches to Mishikwe.

“Would you like some sikah‑nahkaw‑mihtaa? It makes the miners’ food bars easier to eat.”

She hesitates. “There are others who should have this instead,” she answers, also switching to Mishikwe.

“Of course,” Helvar says. “But for you to aid others, you must be strong as well. I only have a little, and I want to share it with you because I see how you help your people.”

She accepts the cup, sniffs it, then takes a cautious sip. Her eyes widen. “You drink bitter‑root drink?” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Are you Bimkor?”

Helvar doesn’t answer. Instead, he gestures for her to dip the pressed food bar into the drink. She tries it.

“You are right,” she says. “It makes it softer.”

He smiles. “Now taste your cup.”

She does — and smiles back. “It sweetens it.”

Helvar nods. “I have to start work, but later I’ll ask a Legionnaire to bring you to me. There are forms we need to complete that will help your people. I think you’re someone who can give me the answers I need.”

She lifts the cloth cup slightly. He nods. “Keep it. Share it with those who need it. We will talk later.”

As he heads back toward his office, he sees her return to the Elder she had been standing beside. They speak quietly. Helvar smiles and makes a few notes on his barkskin.

“Time to start a new file,” he murmurs to himself, then takes his pipe, packs, and lights it.