"If I may ask, is it possible to know what mission you are on?" Walter asked.
Alaric's gaze flicked to Joji at once, a warning in it.
Joji weighed the matter quickly. Tell Walter nothing, and he remained a blind man they had to drag into a town full of danger and questions.
Tell him enough, and he became a loose end that might yet tighten around their necks.
Still, Walter had no side left to run to. If they fell, he likely fell with them.
"We need to investigate the increased presence of beasts around Lacrosse," Joji said, keeping to the heart of the mission without going into deeper details about the murders.
"If you mean to ask around openly, then you need skins that do not scream order or knightliness," Walter said. "Hill ogres. Their skin is close enough to a man's that, at a glance, you might pass for one if the seams are done well."
Then Walter raised a finger toward Joji's head. Moonlight slipped through the branches and flashed against his scalp.
"Those men will remember that you're bald. Best we make a full body suit for you, one with hair."
Alaric made a small strangled sound that might have been laughter. Walter turned to him, hesitated, then pressed on anyway.
"Erm. Ladyboy knight, you must hide your beauty. No more skin on display. You need to look old."
Joji burst out laughing. He shook his head, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.
After rubbing at his side, he coughed the feeling out and forced himself to settle.
"So he'll need to look like an old man, is that it?" Joji asked.
"Yes, sir," Walter said with complete earnestness. "One hill ogre should be enough to fit the three of us."
Hill ogres were common creatures. They ate nearly anything that moved, much like men did. Quick to anger and fond of violence, they were known for carrying heavy wooden clubs.
Joji, Alaric, and Walter followed the first weak light ahead.
The glow led them to a small camp tucked between roots and fallen branches. It was no human camp. The fire sat too low, the stones around it were too crudely stacked, and the pot hanging above it was far too large for the thin arms tending it.
Dog kobolds stood around the fire, upright little beasts barely three or four feet tall, wrapped in leaves and strips of bark for bandages. Hunger and failure sagged plainly on their faces.
One let out a sigh like an old man, and the weight of it settled on Joji at once.
The pot simmered, but the smell rising from it was little more than earthy water and bitter greens. No spice. No meat.
Joji watched them the same way he had watched the wolves earlier, measuring teeth, distance, and numbers.
He raised both hands and stepped forward.
"Easy. We are not here to steal your soup."
A few young kobolds bared their small teeth anyway. Then an elder with a pug like face waddled forward, doing his best to look dignified despite the tremble in one knee.
"Greetings, hooman. What brings you around?" the elderly dog asked.
He looked at their pot and slowly shook his head, disappointed, like a man passing judgment on a miserable meal.
The elder kobold followed his gaze and scratched at his snout in embarrassment.
The younger kobolds did not understand human speech, but they knew that look on Joji's face well enough. It was mockery. Still, they had nothing to say in return.
"I'm gonna go hunting," Joji said. "I stumbled upon this place. That is all."
"Hooman. I wish you luck," the elderly dog said with a shrug.
Joji did not want him and Alaric consuming too much aura.
He also knew words were cheap, and often useless. So instead, Joji let his aura rise.
Green energy crept along his forearms. Joji swung once and cast Emerald Blade Wind.
The air snapped. Two trees a foot thick were pierced clean through and crashed down with a wet crack.
The green aura died against a third trunk, carving halfway in and leaving sap to bleed down the bark.
The elder kobold's ears shot up, and the fur along his body stood on end.
Joji lowered himself until he was close enough to the elder kobold's face that there could be no mistaking his intent.
His voice, when it came, was quiet and almost gentle.
"We're after hill ogres," he said. "Assist us, and you get to keep the meat."
The elder kobold was taken aback. From the very beginning, he had only been feigning composure. Even so, the old dog did not fear death.
Their true camp was not far from here, and that gave him some measure of ease.
What truly vexed him were the young pups at his side. They had come out to prove themselves, and he had only meant to watch over them.
That did not mean he could not ask for help. If they returned with ogre meat, then that too was their luck, and among kobolds, luck counted as a kind of strength.
So the elder kobold looked at Joji with something close to pleading, though beneath it hope had already taken root.
More than anything, the old kobold wanted this burden lifted so he could finally rest his weary body.
Nearby, Alaric shifted his stance, his bow still half raised, giving the offer a harder edge than Joji's tone had carried. Joji caught it at once and lifted a hand in easy restraint.
"Lower the bow," Joji said, glancing at the elder kobold. "These kobolds are friends. We have an arrangement. You'll work, right?"
"Hooman. We help from the side. We do not throw our lives away for this," the old dog demanded.
Alaric drew in a breath, his bow still bright with gathered aura.
"I said lower your bow," Joji roared.
Then, as if to prove where he stood, he stepped in front of the kobolds and shielded them with his own body. He even put on a look of open concern.
"Have you not seen the sincerity of our kobold friend?"
"Fine," Alaric said. "I still do not trust them."
Joji sat on a fallen trunk that had long since weathered into a rough bench. Alaric kept his distance, bow lowered but not loose enough to forget, his eyes still cutting through the dark.
The dog kobolds no longer looked much at Joji or Alaric. Their attention kept sliding back to Walter.
Their throats bobbed as they swallowed. Joji heard the gulps and saw the hunger in their eyes, the crude longing of empty stomachs sizing up Walter's flesh.
So he leaned toward the elder and kept his voice low.
"I know kobolds are good trackers," Joji said. "Where are the monster camps around here?"
The elder's ears twitched. He did not answer at once. His gaze drifted to Walter again, then away, then back once more.
Hunger and caution quarreled openly on his old face.
"East is stones. Bone birds nest there. They steal shiny things."
The finger shifted again.
"West is old trees. Big spiders. Web lines. Do not touch."
"And the hill ogres?" Joji asked. "Where?"
"Southwest," the elder said. "Clubs. Three of them. Two big and one bigger."