The Dungeon Fairy: Two Choices: A Dungeon Core Escapade (The Hapless Dungeon Fairy Book 2) by Jonathan Brooks (free e books to read .txt) 📗

was amazing all by itself – because everyone seemed to know and honor that those fields were being used to feed everyone staying there. Apparently, whoever this was didn’t know that…or didn’t care.

Blinchy, one of the Gnomes that lived and worked in their village, saw it happening and rushed out to stop them, but he was snagged by Jesper, who happened to be walking nearby.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to grab you like that,” the red-clad Clan representative said as he put the diminutive Blinchy down.  “But I would seriously advise against that.”

“Why?  They’re ruining my crops!  We’re going to need those crops, come another month or so,” the Gnome said, crossing his arms and staring in horror as the half-grown wheat was trampled by horses and crushed by wagon wheels – not to mention the thousand or so people who were walking or riding nearby.

“Because those are merchants, and it looks like one of them might even be one of the Ministry, if I’m not mistaken, by the emblem I saw on one of the wagons,” Jesper said without any inflection in his voice.  Sterge could tell that he wasn’t happy, however.

“So?  If they’re merchants, then they should have more than enough money to pay for what they are doing to my land!”  Blinchy started to march towards them again, but Gwenda caught him this time before he could go far.

“Hold on, hold on – let me handle this.  From what I understand, we don’t want to start off on the wrong terms with these people.”

Jesper snorted from behind everyone, before saying, “The only right terms with a merchant are no terms.  Be careful, girl; they’ll try to take everything from you and give you a copper coin in return – and you’ll somehow end up thanking them for it.  At least, that’s been my experience with them.”

“Thanks, Jesper.  I’ll keep that in mind,” Gwenda said sincerely, waving Sterge forward.  “Would you mind coming with me while I go talk to them?”

“Of course not,” Sterge said as he joined her on her mission to talk to the merchants.  When they were halfway to the new camp still being set up and away from everyone else, he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you sure you need me here?  I don’t know anything about these merchant types.”

“Absolutely, Sterge.  I have a feeling I’m going to need your support while talking to them, even if it’s just your presence there.  I really appreciate you accompanying me; I know this isn’t really your type of thing,” she said, putting her hand on his arm again companionably as they walked.

“Absolutely.  I’d do anything to keep you feeling safe – you know that,” he said with a smile, which earned him one in response.  Unfortunately, those smiles soon turned to frowns as they got to the merchant camp and asked to talk to whoever was in charge.

“The Minister doesn’t just talk to anybody, especially…people like you,” one of the perimeter guards said with a sneer.  She was a Human fully equipped with chainmail-and-plate armor, with a sword at her hip that was longer than Sterge was tall – and she appeared like she knew how to use it, unlike the younger group of obviously new Raiders milling about the middle of the circle of wagons.

“What?  People like us?  Hill Dwarves?” Gwenda asked, thoroughly affronted.  Sterge was a bit annoyed as well, but he tried not to let it show.

The woman laughed shortly, before answering matter-of-factly.  “No, of course not.  The Minister doesn’t talk to poor people, which you clearly are.”

Strangely, that made Sterge feel better; there were some things that couldn’t be changed, like his status as a Hill Dwarf, and judging people on that alone was something that he couldn’t really understand.  The amount of money someone had, while not necessarily a good judge of character, usually indicated a certain amount of influential power.  While neither prejudice was fair, he at least felt more prepared to have to abide by the latter.  He had been poor for most of his life, so he was used to not having a lot of choices; it was only through hard work and perseverance that he and the other villagers managed to acquire the lease on this land, which amazingly ended up giving him more choice in the way he lived and survived.

Gwenda, on the other hand, seemed even more upset at that comment.  Before she could respond, however, another voice came from further inside of the camp; it belonged to an older Elven individual, which in itself was an uncommon sight for Sterge.  Most Elves lived for hundreds or thousands of years – unless they were Raiders, of course, where the average life expectancy was reportedly around 30 years – and they didn’t necessarily show their age until they were quite old.  This Elf, though, had a little thinning of his long, platinum-blonde hair, fine wrinkles on his face, and the tips of his pointed ears drooped the tiniest bit; the signs of aging weren’t horrifically glaring, but were remarkable for even being present.  He was also wearing a comfortable-looking light-blue robe cinched at the waist with a thin gold cord; nothing too fancy-looking, but it was obviously finely made, nonetheless.

“Francha?  What do we have here?”

The Human guard turned around quickly and gave a quick but low bow to the Elf.  “Nothing, Minister.  These peasants were just leaving.”

The Elf frowned and walked closer, addressing the guard.  “What have I told you about speaking like that?”

Francha, if that was her name, shuffled uncomfortably from foot-to-foot.  “Uh…to think about what I’m saying before I say it?” she replied, seemingly confused by the question.

“No, not that, though that does apply here,” the Minister said, before continuing with a sterner tone to his voice.  “What I was thinking of was the part where you don’t speak at all; you’re