Chapter 62: Kobold Warrior

Ulyan pondered for a moment before suddenly saying, “But faith truly is a problem. Look, when someone dies in the village, the family doesn’t even have a place to grieve.”

Leo nodded in agreement, “Then let’s build a small chapel, and first enshrine Tyr.”

“If we’re going to honor the god of war Tyr, then we might as well include Odalov, Freylov, Lavad, and Basaka too.”

“At that point it can’t be called a chapel anymore—it should be a temple.”

Listening to the two of them, going back and forth and now even planning to construct a wonder, the chief craftsman, Valery, grew anxious. “Isn’t this a bad idea? The floorboards of the great hall aren’t even finished yet, and half the people are still living in tents.”

But Ulyan paid him no mind and waved his hand, issuing a command: “This is a great idea! Figure it out yourself, but no matter how big or small it is, the village must have a temple. Enshrine our ancestors first, so those dubious things can’t sway people’s hearts.”

The northerners’ approach to faith was incredibly haphazard. Whether it was a church or a temple, whether the god was known or unknown, if they passed by, they would stop to worship. Even ancient and strange trees, peculiarly shaped boulders, or mountains too steep to climb would attract devotees to pray and offer respects.

The Church of the Holy Light’s doctrine was well-founded, far more appealing than the hodgepodge of wild sects. Without building a temple early to solidify the faith in their ancestors, the villagers, deprived of spiritual support, could easily fall prey to brainwashing and exploitation.

The Odalov, Freylov, Lavad, and Basaka that Ulyan mentioned were all considered sons of Tyr in northern mythology. The first two names were originally Odaro and Freyla. In the late era of the northern clan society, clans like Odaro and Freyla rose to power, each proclaiming themselves kings, ushering in the age of the northern monarchs.

Eventually, the Odaro royal clan succeeded and became the supreme royal family of the north, with Odaro elevated to the status of Tyr’s eldest son. The ancestral name Odaro became the surname of the supreme royal house; after a thousand years of inheritance, it gradually evolved into Odalov.

The other great count families with thousand-year legacies followed a similar path—for instance, the Freyla royal family became the Freylov counts, and the Xiya royal family became the Isharov counts.

As for Lavad and Basaka, the former was the ancestor of Leo’s village, while the latter was the ancestor of the wild tribes.

Naming traditions in the north were quite different from elsewhere. Ordinary people used only their given names most of the time; only when meeting someone with the same name, a stranger, or on formal occasions would they add a surname.

But in these poor and backward villages, there weren’t enough learned people to invent new names. Everyone recycled the same old ones. Just as every Chinese village had its “Wei,” every northern village had an Ivan. There was even a proverb: “Those with names are Ivan, those without are fools.”

Leo’s friend Ivan was known as Little Ivan, because his father was also named Ivan.

And his grandfather was Ivan as well.

If he met an Ivan from a neighboring village, he would introduce himself as “Ivan Ivanov”—that’s his given name plus his father’s name, meaning “Little Ivan, son of Ivan.”

If the Ivan from the neighboring village was also called Ivan Ivanov, he would say he was “Ivan Ivanov Lavad,” meaning “Little Ivan, son of Ivan, descendant of the Lavad clan.”

Or he might simply add his grandfather’s name after his father’s, creating an endless nested name pattern.

That’s why northern nobles often had full names stretching a hundred characters long. They would include every illustrious ancestor, displaying the glory of their lineage. The greatest mark of respect for a noble was to recite his full name, as it showed you remembered the radiant history of his entire family.

As for the descendants of lesser clans like Lavad and Basaka, whose ancestors had never prospered, such flourishes were rare.

Building a temple for the territory, enshrining the god of war Tyr and their own ancestors, was not just a means to solidify rule and comfort the people, but also a symbol of joining the ranks of nobility. The temple also functioned as a clan shrine—only nobles had the resources for such a thing.

One day, when Leo inherited Ulyan’s title of Frontier Knight and had children of his own, he could, beneath the sacred images in the temple, declare to all: “This is my son, so-and-so Leo Ulyan Lavad.”

As for including Basaka in the temple, Ulyan’s little calculation was written plainly on his face. Once Rivermouth flourished and its population grew, he did not believe the wild folk wouldn’t come to worship their own ancestors. This is how a sense of belonging is created.

Besides planning the construction of an ancestral temple, Leo also intended to reward the kobold blacksmiths.

Before the bonfire, in front of all the villagers of Rivermouth, Leo announced in a loud voice:

“In recognition of the kobold blacksmiths’ bravery in defending Rivermouth, I hereby confer upon all kobold blacksmiths the title of ‘Kobold Warrior,’ officially granting them the status of Rivermouth’s people.”

Leo helpfully explained that this title ranked above that of Kobold Fighter.

Moreover, each kobold blacksmith was awarded a leather blacksmith’s apron and a Warrior’s Hammer—a regular blacksmith’s hammer inscribed with the words “Warrior’s Hammer.”

Though Ulyan and the others saw this gesture as a bit of a game, it unexpectedly delighted the kobolds. The blacksmiths walked up to accept their rewards with heads held high, tongues lolling, and tails wagging furiously, like a group of schoolchildren proudly receiving red stars.

The young kobolds below barked and yipped, overcome with envy and longing.

Old Rusev tapped his pipe and marveled, “The minds of kobolds are beyond us. It has to be Leo.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Thanks to Leo’s efforts, the kobold blacksmiths seemed to gain a new sense of worth, their demeanor distinctly altered. Previously, they had come to work at the Rivermouth forge only at Fisa’s command. In return for their labor, they received not only food and lodging but also two extra sacks of grain each month—though those were given to Fisa.

All day, they had known nothing but forging and eating, unwilling to leave the smithy or socialize with anyone except Valery and the human blacksmiths. Some kobold blacksmiths even remained wary and hostile toward humans, refusing to share their knowledge of metalwork and fearing they would be killed and eaten at any moment.

Even though Fisa repeatedly assured them that humans did not eat kobolds.

After this day, however, the kobold blacksmiths finally began to take the initiative to interact with the people of Rivermouth. They even started scolding inattentive apprentices, rather than ignoring them.

It was then that the kobold blacksmiths revealed their astonishing talent for forging: they could determine the quality of metal just by smell!