It had been a full day since the meeting. Valleria walked in circles around the recently hatched Splotch. His growth was impressive— typically it took most of a month for a Kobold to grow to this juvenile size, but already, Splotch’s head reached her shoulder.

It seemed they had been successful in making them grow more quickly. Valleria didn’t know everything that Mark was talking about when he ranted about it, but it seemed complex. Enhancing a Kobolds meridians? Changing their mana input? It didn’t make much sense to her.

But she understood very well how a group of feral Kobolds like this took the castle they had above. This version of Splotch was made of corded muscle. And it wouldn’t stop screaming. It writhed and threw itself against the ropes that bound it— more than a dozen of them tied off to metal loops. Valleria remembered the first attempt at binding it— the ropes had snapped. These ropes were thicker, though. More reliable. And they added double as many.

“We’ve fed him plenty, yet he still acts as if he is so hungry. I can’t help but wonder if his metabolism is actually this accelerated or if they are just tuned to eat constantly. Like a locust.”

“Were the others like this?” Valleria asked, still pacing. She stepped between Splotch and the huge insect he was leaping towards. The centipede, Longback, had reached its full growth, towering over her with ease. It was placidly eating a mushroom right now.

Towering multi-segmented monsters. The centipedes looked… delicious. Valleria caught herself drooling.

“The feral Kobolds that attacked us were starved half to death. So no, nothing like this. I don’t know if the feral dungeon of clan Bighorn just didn’t know how to make them food or what. It will help us if they’re all half starved though. Splotch! Sit!” Mark said.

Splotch’s colors were mostly the same. His originally dark tan scales were a much brighter orange, still offset with splotches of a horrid brown-gray color. Additionally, his rope like muscles were covered in red stripes. At Mark’s words, Splotch recoiled, his drool splattering down to the floor. He paused, stilling, calm for a moment.

Then he resumed throwing himself at the centipede. Mark sighed.

“I hope the entire clan isn’t like this. How the hell do you fight something like this? It’s no wonder they took the wall. I bet these can tear through stone with their bare hands.” Valleria said, poking Splotch’s arm. Splotch turned, snapping towards Valleria, growling and drooling. She stepped back.

“They threw themselves over the wall. Used each other like stepping stones. It was like something out of a zombie movie.” Mark paused, recalling the scene of devastation. “I’m still tweaking this…. I’m trying to find a way to make it more, I don’t know, calm, but with the same strength and ferocity of the Feral Kobolds. Only thing is, I don’t know if its the genes, or the meridians…”

“You should just make two, then. One where you change its genes and one where you change its meridians.”

“Ah! Duh! Two variables and a control… why didn’t I think of that? Thanks, Valleria! I need to go create the eggs now… Two or three?”

“Mark— wait.” Valleria interrupted.

“What is it? Definitely three, right? Don’t know if age will change any variables—”

“Mark! In the meeting… you said you were contacting clan Wartskin first?” Valleria asked, pacing to the side.

“Yes. They are most likely to be the most amenable, especially in light of their health issues. Also, the lowest threat to visit. Clan Longtail might be able to mount an attack on us from nearby, and clan Blighteye is on the border of their territory.”

“But clan Wartskin borders clan Bighorn!” Valleria shouted, irate.

“Oh. You are right…”

“Mark, you promised we would visit clan Longtail first. My younger brother is still there. And to heal him! He can hardly walk most days. Who knows how long he will survive without me?”

“You’re right. I had completely forgotten, sorry. Theres so much going on. I’ll talk to Alverost and arrange the meeting with clan Longtail first.”

“And I want to go.”

“What?” Mark said. “Weren’t you exiled from the clan? Won’t they attack you on sight, or?”

“Yes… thats true. But only if I go alone.” Valleria continued pacing around Splotch. “They won’t risk a confrontation with a clan they don’t know. I know the elders of the Longtail well. After all, I’m related to them.”

“You’re related to the clan leaders? So you’re like nobility?”

“The clan only recognizes those who contribute value as nobility. No one else. Regardless of blood. We are almost all related to the clan heads.” Valleria sighed.

“I see. Alright, I’ll talk to Alverost and plan to make contact with Longtail as soon as tomorrow.” Mark spared a last look to Splotch, who was running out of energy. The ropes were no longer taut, instead slightly loose as he relaxed from the restraints. “Return to the farms.” Mark told Longback. It was fully grown now, towering over the Kobold. He would have to look into them more later. They seemed like they could make excellent beasts of burden, as well as a source of food for the Kobolds. Variety in their diet would do them good.

Maybe, with some enhancements, they might even make decent combat animals.

Mark would build it when he received the livestock from clan Tinyfingers tomorrow.

He pivoted his perspective to Alverost.

Kobolds were sorting the metal from clan Tinyfingers, arranging pieces of approximately the same width and material and laying them out into lines. At one edge of the room were gleaming, wicked, black swords, clearly forged from the metal. The rust that had accumulated on the metal sat on the ground in piles, oxidation peeled free from the metal and left on the floor.

“Alverost?” Mark asked.

“What? Oh shit. Again?” Alverost said, sounding displeased before pivoting away. Mark followed. Out of the court yard and into a side room that was harvested clean of mushrooms several circles were arranged.

To the side were human shaped dummy targets. Tinyfinger’s Kobolds drew back bows, loosing arrows into them. They were peppered full of arrows and filled with cloth.

What had caught Alverost’s attention quickly caught Mark’s. Two of their Kobolds stood in one of their circles. Dueling rings, Mark thought. Axel looked down disdainfully on a Kobold below him. It took Alverost’s perspective looking at it to realize it was screaming.

And bleeding. A lot. In fact, he was missing a forearm. Mark quickly did a check of the room, looking for it. He found it quickly— Axel was holding it, staring down at the arm, and bringing it to his—

“Axel, don’t—” Mark shouted before Axel bit into the defeated Kobold’s hand, and with a crunch, tore off a chunk of flesh and bone. He took a second to chew, his face changing in a range of emotions as he considered the taste and mouthfeel of Kobold flesh. Then he swallowed.

Axel made a disgusted look and threw the hand away. Fire burned in the eyes of the Kobold below him as he stared up at Axel. Axel turned, spinning away from the Kobold and tossing its hand— or what remained of it.

The maimed Kobold gripped a sword, charging at Axel’s back.