Chapter 32 - 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?"