Chapter 128: Babátúndé the Great

Chapter 128: Chapter 128: Babátúndé the Great

Thanks RedFlame_FireFlame for the race car and Golden tickets. You’re my number one supporter and a good friend.

....

There was no pleading.

No desperate rush toward the entrance.

No immediate hope at the sight of someone arriving from outside.

They barely reacted at all.

Tolu had seen people defeated by poverty. He had met adventurers who returned from expeditions with injuries that left them unable to work. He knew what desperation looked like when a person had spent everything they possessed and still had nothing left.

This was different.

These people looked as though something inside them had already surrendered.

He stepped farther into the cavern.

One of the prisoners slowly raised his head. His eyes moved over Tolu’s face, then toward the creatures behind him.

For a moment, something resembling awareness flickered in his expression.

Then he looked away.

Tolu stopped.

"How long have they been here?" he asked quietly.

I cannot determine that from their present condition.

He looked around again.

The enclosures were poorly maintained, but they weren’t entirely neglected. There were containers of water near the walls, and a few baskets held scraps of food. The prisoners were being kept alive.

For what purpose, he couldn’t yet tell.

He approached the nearest enclosure.

"Can you understand me?"

The woman stared at him.

He waited.

She eventually blinked, but her gaze drifted past him as though his voice had come from somewhere far away.

Tolu’s fingers tightened around the handle of his hammer.

He moved to the next enclosure and tried again.

"How many days have you been here?"

A man looked at him, his expression dull.

"Does it matter?"

His voice was so weak that Tolu almost failed to hear him.

"What?"

The man lowered his head.

"Does it matter?"

Tolu remained silent.

He had no answer that would mean anything to someone who had already stopped expecting a future.

He moved toward the next enclosure.

That was when he heard the swearing.

"Filthy, rotten, six-legged bastards!"

Tolu stopped.

The voice came from the far side of the cavern. Unlike the lifeless murmurs of the other prisoners, this one was loud, furious, and very much alive.

"I swear on every ancestor I’ve ever had, if I get out of this cage, I’m going to pull off every single one of those ugly little heads! One by one! And then I’ll find whoever owns this miserable hole and shove their dungeon up—"

A heavy metallic clang interrupted the speech.

"OW! Watch where you’re putting that thing, you oversized cockroach!"

Another clang followed.

"Yes, that’s right! Hit the bars again! Excellent idea! Perhaps if you keep doing that, they’ll magically open and let me out!"

Tolu stared toward the sound.

One of his creatures tilted its head.

Even Gravemantle appeared to pause.

The voice continued.

"Don’t look at me like that! I know you understand me, you disgusting little insect! You have eyes, don’t you? Two of them? Four? Six? Whatever! You’re still ugly!"

A sharp clicking noise came from somewhere beyond the partitions.

"Yes, yes, click at me! That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? Clicking, crawling, and ruining perfectly good days!"

Tolu slowly began walking toward the source of the commotion.

The further he went, the more obvious the contrast became. The other prisoners scarcely acknowledged the noise. A few glanced in its direction before returning to their silent resignation.

Whoever was responsible for the swearing seemed entirely unconcerned with the fact that he was surrounded by people who had lost the will to complain.

Tolu reached the last enclosure.

And finally saw him.

The being inside was small, standing approximately three and a half feet tall. His proportions were those of a compact adult rather than a child, with a broad chest, sturdy arms, and hands that looked surprisingly strong for his size.

His appearance immediately brought a particular word to Tolu’s mind.

Dwarf.

He had a thick head of dark, unruly hair, a broad face, and a short beard that had clearly gone untrimmed for too long. His clothes were filthy, and one sleeve had been torn almost completely away. A dark bruise covered part of his forehead.

None of that seemed to concern him.

He was currently gripping the bars with both hands, glaring furiously at an Eera guard standing on the other side.

"Come closer," he challenged. "Come on! You dragged me down here, locked me in a cage, stole my tools, and fed me whatever that disgusting substance was yesterday. The least you can do is give me the satisfaction of hitting you!"

The Eera clicked.

The little man bared his teeth.

"Oh, don’t you start! I have heard enough clicking to last me three lifetimes!"

The guard struck the bars with its spear.

The dwarf jerked backward, narrowly avoiding the blow, then immediately rushed forward again.

"HA! Missed! You missed! Did your queen teach you to fight, or did you learn that impressive technique from watching a beetle fall off a log?"

The Eera raised its spear again.

"Go ahead! Do it! At least then I won’t have to listen to your ridiculous noises anymore!"

Tolu watched in astonishment.

The prisoner was exhausted. He was bruised, filthy, and locked behind bars in a dungeon controlled by a hostile Dungeon Lord. He had no weapon, no apparent means of escape, and no reason to believe that anyone was coming to rescue him.

Yet he was still arguing with his captors as though the greatest injustice in the world was being forced to endure their company.

The Eera guard eventually turned and stalked away.

The dwarf followed it with a final glare.

"That’s right! Run away! Coward!"

He gave the bars a contemptuous shake before turning around.

That was when he noticed Tolu.

His expression changed immediately.

He looked at Tolu’s face, then at the hammer in his hand. His gaze shifted to Gravemantle and the creatures gathering behind them.

For the first time since Tolu had entered the cavern, someone looked at him with genuine interest.

The dwarf hurried to the bars.

"Hey! You!"

Tolu raised an eyebrow.

"Me?"

"No, the enormous rock-covered beast behind you. Of course I mean you!"

He pointed a finger at Tolu.

"Are you here to rescue us, or have those miserable insects finally decided to start feeding prisoners to each other for entertainment?"

Tolu stared at him for a moment.

Then, despite the situation, he almost smiled.

"I haven’t decided yet."

The dwarf’s jaw dropped.

"You haven’t—"

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pressed his forehead against the bars.

"Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. I’ve been kidnapped by an army of oversized ants, locked in a hole beneath the earth, deprived of my tools, and now my potential rescuer has decided to make a joke out of it."

He opened his eyes again.

"Listen to me, you tall, hammer-carrying idiot. If you can fight those things, then fight them. If you can open this cage, then open it. And if you can’t do either, then at least have the decency to tell me so I can stop wasting my breath!"

Tolu studied him.

There was something remarkable about this little man, and it wasn’t simply his willingness to insult creatures that could easily kill him.

The others had seen Tolu enter and barely reacted. This one had immediately begun negotiating, insulting, and demanding answers.

He was afraid. Tolu could see that beneath the anger, beneath the constant stream of complaints, beneath the stubborn way he held himself upright.

But fear had not swallowed him.

Whatever the Eera had done to the other prisoners, they hadn’t managed to extinguish this one’s spirit.

Tolu stepped closer to the bars.

"What’s your name?"

The dwarf hesitated, seemingly surprised by the question.

Then he straightened his back.

"At last. A sensible question."

He brushed what little dirt he could from his chest and lifted his chin.

"I am the Magnificent, master craftsman of the Seven Forges, breaker of inferior weapons, terror of incompetent blacksmiths, and the finest artisan to have ever graced the lands beneath the heavens and the seas beyond the horizon. The grandmaster blacksmith babátúndé the great."

He paused, allowing the words to settle.

"Of course, you may simply call me Babátúndé."

He glanced toward the tunnel through which the guard had disappeared.

"Unfortunately, my current circumstances have been anything but ordinary."

His gaze returned to Tolu.

"And if you’re truly capable of getting me out of here, I’ll consider forgiving you for making me explain all that while I’m standing in a cage."

Tolu’s almost-smile became genuine.

An Egbere.

For a moment, he forgot about the war.

He had been searching for one of these craftsmen for the sake of his forging a new hammer. He had expected to travel, ask questions, follow rumours, and perhaps spend a considerable amount of money convincing one to help him.

Instead, he had found one imprisoned in an enemy dungeon.

Tolu looked at the Egbere’s small, dirt-covered hands.

Then he looked into his eyes.

They were bright, angry, and fiercely alive.

"How long have you been here?" Tolu asked.

"Too long."

"Why did they capture you?"

"They wanted my skills."

The Egbere’s expression darkened.

"They took my tools, dragged me away from my workshop, and expected me to make things for them. When I refused, they decided that starving me and locking me up would improve my attitude."

He gestured at himself.

"As you can see, their methods have been remarkably unsuccessful."