Zune headed east. As far east as he could possibly run. He ran for days across the desert until he hit a road that carried him slightly south. It must be understood that a three day walk for a kobold was a lot of walking because the average kobold lifespan is so low (and would be lower, if not for unions). He was very happy to hide during the night once more, away from the lawyers and adventurers. Plus, the daytime was much warmer.

So, after three days of walking Zune hit a trail, and walked three more days into a biome of rolling golden hills, still having-yet to see a soul until nearly a week after travel when a caravan passed him by. He waved at the people on the carts, and greeted them with the most honorable greeting he could think of: raising his arms above his head and yelling very loudly to show he was excited. The caravan of humans responded by giving yelps of terror and throwing rocks at him, much to his disappointment.

Tough crowd.

A few days later, the same thing happened, and Zune could not help but to think that (perhaps) there was something he was missing. Was he sick? He would have to change up his strategy the next time.

Two days later, instead of waving, he calmly approached a passing caravan and was able to get much. However, it ended much the same with many rocks thrown in his face. Several of the humans yelled at him this time.

“Monster!” They called him.

Zune was heartbroken. How was he going to meet Guy Blanco if all of these humans hated him?

I bet Guy Blanco dealt with a bunch of discrimination, just like me. Zune thought to himself. The question, again, was “How would Guy Blanco convince these humans he wasn’t a monster?”

The answer, again, was simple: Make them comfortable. And the one way Zune knew how to do that was an interview. When the next caravan passed, Zune waited until nightfall to execute his brilliant plan.

At the dead of night, when humans weren’t watching, he snuck into the most distant tent from the caravan he could find. Inside, an old weathered man was fast asleep. Zune double-checked that there were no rocks (or swords), before he leaned over the old man’s body and got right up to his face.

“Welcome to The Slighty-Late Show with Zune Te-em! I’m your host, Zune Te-Em, and joining me tonight is…”

“Holy shit please. Take anything. Just don’t kill me!” The man pleaded. Zune, being unfamiliar with humans, incorrectly assumed this interview was going quite well.

What an odd name for a man.

“That’s an odd name! Anyways, joining me tonight is ‘Holy Shit please. Take Anything. Just Don’t Kill me.’ “

The man recoiled as Zune clapped in imitation of the studio audience from the Guy Blanco show.

“So, Holy- I hope I can call you that? Or should I use your whole name? Is there a shorthand or a nickname you would like?”

***

What the fuck is happening? Just cooperate. Maybe he won’t kill me. Harold thought.

“I prefer Harold.” A single tear rolled down Harold’s face. The creature’s claws had nearly gotten him. He knew the end was nigh…unless there was a miracle.

“So Harold, what is your assigned career?” the kobold snarled viciously.

“I’m a cabbage merchant. I really don’t make a lot of money. I promise.” Harold begged. He knew if he spoke too loudly, the kobold would surely kill him.

***

The interview was going great. Harold clearly didn’t think Zune was a monster, and the two had joked about Zune not killing the man. They were best friends already. They talked for about thirty minutes, just small talk really. Harold had never known about unions before, and had thanked Zune for the knowledge.

Well at last some good came out of working for Menthoralix.

The best part, however, was when the interview ended. Harold paid Zune an appearance fee.

My first appearance fee! Zune was besides himself and frankly quite chuffed about the whole matter. Harold had given him a bag full of silver, a well-worn cloak. Zune had never owned money before. He spent the rest of his waking hours thinking about how he was going to spend it.

Thank you Guy Blanco, for this gift. The kobold prayed, and then fell fast asleep.

***

Harold was relieved. The old ratty towel and the small bag of silver he used for paying minor cabbage merchant fares had somehow gotten the kobold to spare his life. And more importantly, the strange kobold had offered him some sound labor advice.

As soon as the caravan made it to Westervale in a few months, Harold would retire as a cabbage merchant, and then he would hire a lawyer and found the cabbage merchants union.

“Never again will I have to sleep at the edge of a caravan camp!” Harold proudly complained, correct about the matter.

“And never never NEVER again will I ever have to be interrogated by a kobold.” Harold proudly complained, completely incorrect about the matter.