Building a Kingdom as a Kobold-Chapter 84: Reinforcements Arrived. So Did Trouble.

I was elbow-deep in a pulley system that had given up on engineering three decades ago when I heard it.

Not a threat. Not monsters.

Laughter.

That kind of stupid, high-volume, badly-disguised laughter that could only belong to one person on the entire continent.

I turned.

Splitjaw was sprinting down the hill like a boulder with enthusiasm issues, arms waving wildly, shouting something I couldn’t hear over the sound of my own brain short-circuiting.

I barely had time to say "oh no" before he crashed into me like a wrecking ball made of armor, joy, and unresolved trauma.

We hit the dirt hard.

"STILL ALIVE, I SEE!" he shouted in my ear, already half-crushing me with a bear hug that probably left glyph imprints in my spine.

"You’re loud," I wheezed.

"You’re smaller than I remember."

"You say that every time."

"Because you keep shrinking!"

"Because you keep throwing me across courtyards!"

He laughed so hard he actually rolled off me this time. I sat up just in time to see the others catch up.

Embergleam, cloak fluttering like she rehearsed it. Same impossible calm. Same half-smile like the whole world was a mystery she’d already solved and was just waiting for us to catch up.

Chaos was right behind her, munching what I *think* was a burnt root and carrying no fewer than four satchels and two semi-suspicious pipes.

Glare stood to my left, watching quietly. He didn’t smile—but he didn’t need to. His shoulders dropped two notches. That was enough.

They were all here.

I stood. Slowly. I didn’t trust my legs yet. Didn’t trust that this wasn’t some hallucination cooked up by smoke inhalation and sleep deprivation.

Splitjaw grabbed my arm. "Don’t get mushy on us, boss."

"I’m not."

"You’re about to cry, aren’t you?"

"I’m not!"

"You liiiiiaaaar."

Chaos strode up and shoved a wrapped bundle into my chest. "It’s jerky. Don’t ask what animal."

"...Thanks?"

"It’s emotional support meat. You’re gonna need it."

I laughed.

And it felt good.

Embergleam approached last. Didn’t say anything. Just rested a hand on my shoulder, light as air, and nodded.

I nodded back.

That was enough.

We gathered near the well, broken pulley forgotten. The villagers were already peeking out of their homes, murmuring. A few kids pointed at Splitjaw and whispered "is he always that big?"

"Yes," I said. "Yes, he is."

Splitjaw flexed. Chaos struck a pose. Embergleam vanished mid-eye-roll.

I didn’t realize how badly I needed this.

Not just help. Not just backup.

Them.

The way they bickered. The way they filled silence without needing to explain. The way just standing near them made the weight on my shoulders feel... survivable.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It was better than that.

It was home.

Glare stepped forward finally, eyes on Embergleam. "We missed your signal."

"I didn’t send one."

"Hmph."

"You’d have come either way."

He nodded.

Splitjaw stretched his arms. "So, what’s the plan, oh fearless leader?"

I looked around. The village still smelled like smoke. The hero was already helping them. Fields needed clearing. Survivors needed structure.

But for the first time in weeks, I felt like we could actually do something about it.

"We help here. Then we find out who’s behind the fakes."

Chaos was already unpacking tools. Embergleam summoned a small flame to test soil alignment. Glare adjusted the perimeter. Splitjaw cracked his knuckles and asked where the monsters usually came from.

No hesitation. No questions.

Just movement.

Splitjaw fixed the pulley.

Well—"fixed" was generous.

It creaked like an elderly badger every time we drew water and still veered slightly to the left, but at least it worked. That counted.

Splitjaw took a few too many enthusiastic swings at the side panel and ended up snapping one of the auxiliary bars. Glare, without saying a word, handed me the replacement two seconds before it broke. Embergleam monitored glyph flow like she was consulting a recalcitrant tea spirit.

And Chaos... Chaos jammed half a roasted root into the gears before realizing that wasn’t his toolbox.

He said it was a "test." I didn’t ask for clarification.

The well ran. The pulley held. The villagers returned to filling buckets without flinching. That was good enough.

I crouched by the runoff trench, adjusting the tilt. Just enough to keep pressure away from the central glyph plate. Dirt stained my nails, and my legs ached in that steady, honest way that came from use, not battle.

I couldn’t remember the last time I worked like this with them.

We bled together. Fought beside each other. Buried things together.

And then, we all went where we were needed.

I didn’t realize how far that took us from each other

I didn’t say any of that, of course. Just sighed and kept digging.

They arrived again, one by one, as if called by memory.

She stood by the char where the forge used to be, eyes skimming the ash, hand open at her side..

Splitjaw’s voice broke the moment.

I turned just in time to catch him barreling across the field. Again.

"No hug this time," I warned. "I will bite."

He slowed just enough to tackle me metaphorically, skidding to a stop in a cloud of dust and laughter.

Chaos was chewing something again. I wasn’t going to ask.

"You lot just materialize now?" I asked, brushing soot from my shoulders.

"Wouldn’t that be convenient," Embergleam murmured. "We walked, same as anyone."

"Mostly uphill," Chaos added. "Splitjaw tried to race a cloud."

"I won," Splitjaw declared.

"No you didn’t," all three of us replied in unison.

He grinned.

We didn’t talk about how long it had been. Didn’t say how many days had passed. How many close calls, how many times I looked over my shoulder expecting them.

Instead, we walked together—no orders needed—toward the ruined edge of the field.

And just like that, the world felt manageable again.

Embergleam knelt by the old rootline and traced something in the dirt with her sleeve pulled tight against her palm.

Mana drift. Burned at a slant. Directional, not random.

I followed the line. It curved unnaturally—bent toward the village, then fractured into spiral filaments just before the outer wards.

Splitjaw crouched nearby, rubbing charcoal flakes between two fingers. "Local kids said shadows started acting weird a couple days before the fight. Kept trying to touch their feet."

"That’s... not normal," I said slowly.

"Nope," Chaos agreed. "Also, I touched this stone and my teeth felt like they were humming."

He pointed to a slab half-covered in moss. It surely wasn’t native. The cut was too smooth.

"There’s something beneath here," he added.

That was when I noticed Glare wasn’t with us anymore.

I turned.

He was standing at the edge of the square, hand on the hilt of his blade, watching the treeline like it might shift when we weren’t looking.

Something had changed.

We all felt it.

Dinner was rations and questions.

Splitjaw passed around dried marrow cakes that tasted like powdered regret. Embergleam reheated grain broth by balancing a flame sphere atop a chipped bowl. Chaos refused to sit, pacing around the stump like he was in conversation with the local dirt.

We didn’t say much.

The food was warm-ish. The silence wasn’t awkward.

"Still breathing, huh?" said a voice from the left.

The Hero ducked under the tarp, shirt charred at the hem, cheeks streaked with soot like war paint designed by someone with no fine motor control.

"Took you long enough," I said.

Chaos offered him a strip of bark jerky. "Emergency meal. Helps you forget taste."

The Hero sniffed it, wisely passed, and slouched until his shoulders hit the dirt. He didn’t talk more. Just closed his eyes and existed, in that way only people who had been running too long could do when they finally stopped.

Across the fire, Embergleam passed me a canteen. Her eyes reflected the coals.

"You’ve changed," she said softly.

"Been busy."

"No," she said. "Not like that."

I didn’t ask what she meant. I think I already knew.

We’d all changed.

Glare finally rejoined us, silent as ever. He didn’t eat, just leaned on his blade and watched the sky like he was trying to read the next week in the stars.

Embergleam spoke first. "We stay for now."

Splitjaw grunted. "Rebuild?" freёweɓnovel_com

"No. Observe. There’s a pattern here."

"We’ll need a dig team," Chaos muttered, tapping his boot against the moss slab again. "Or at least someone willing to crawl into whatever horrible hole this place is sitting on."

I looked up from the map I wasn’t really reading. "After this?"

No one answered right away.

Then Embergleam: "If there’s a fight, I’d rather do it with you lot."

Glare nodded once. Splitjaw raised a thumb. Chaos saluted the soup. The hero seemed to agree.

That was our version of a vow.

No toasts. No speeches.

---

Later, when the fire had burned down and most of the others drifted to rest, Embergleam sat beside me.

She didn’t speak right away. Just held out a fragment.

Charred. Thin. A curve of etched glyphwork that shimmered faintly under moonlight.

"Scribble"

Foll𝑜w current novℯls on fre𝒆web(n)ovel.co(m)