Markings in Bone

In the days after the ambush, Stonegate Keep was under a tense watch. Brennan was one of Kaelan's most trusted scouts who had been sent to the intimidating Shadow Peaks, but news would come later. The double patrols and increased vigilance inside the keep's walls produced a tense silence akin to the quiet before a thunderstorm. Although there was still open animosity between humans and goblins, the most overt forms of fighting appeared to have reluctantly ceased due to the mutual awareness of a dangerous, outside enemy that was always present.

Kaelan and Grakka's uneasy cohabitation persisted, but it was slightly changed by the fire trial—or, more accurately, the arrow and sword. The recollection of their coerced cooperation in battle made the quiet between them feel less like a wall and more like contested territory. Even while they were still in different orbits, they now occasionally and surprisingly crossed paths with a little less friction.

It was during this waiting that Kaelan became restless. Analyzing maps of the Shadow Peaks area only confirmed its reputation as a dangerous, sparsely populated area that no kingdom has claimed and is home to a variety of outcasts, smugglers, and fiercely independent mountain clans, both goblin and human, who are notoriously hostile to outsiders. He required comprehension, not just maps. An awareness of the types of people who might hire expert killers with crude poisons, possibly influenced by the goblin viewpoint that is currently blocked in the room next to it.

Kaelan decided to check on his personal equipment at the little, underutilized armory near their tower one afternoon when he needed a break from the confines of their suite. Surprised to see Grakka already there, he stopped in the doorway. She was neither sharpening her cleaver nor sparring. Instead, she appeared to be unaware of his presence as she sat cross-legged on a low seat, concentrating intently on a tiny object in her palm. In her other hand, a thin, sharp-pointed knife moved with unexpected agility, cutting thin slivers off the item.

Inquisitive, Kaelan stood quietly in the doorway, watching. She was cleaning and smoothing a chunk of bone that might have been saved from a hunt or the kitchens. She was cutting jagged, complex symbols into its surface with painstaking accuracy. Her calloused fingers were surprisingly nimble, and the work was careful and focused. In sharp contrast to the ruthless efficiency he had seen in battle or the contemptuous impatience she typically expressed, it seemed oddly serene. It didn't align with the human stereotype of goblins as vicious, uncivilized animals.

After a few minutes of viewing, his typical reserve gave way to his need to comprehend. He gently cleared his throat.

Grakka's body tensed instantaneously as her head snapped up, her hand hanging close to the carving knife that was now gripped like a potential weapon. The instant anxiety subsided a little when she realized it was just Kaelan, and her typical cautious indifference took its place. "Knight," she curtly acknowledged.

"Pardon my interruption," Kaelan remarked in a calm, unthreatening tone. He pointed to the tiny item she was holding. "I don't want to bother you, but could you tell me what those carvings represent? I've never seen something like that before."

For a considerable amount of time, Grakka examined him closely, her black eyes probing his face as she probably determined his motivation. Was it satire? Spy work? Meddling by mere humans? She nodded curtly at the piece of bone, as if satisfied that it was none of those, or maybe thinking the information was innocuous. "Trail markers," was all she said.

"Trail markers?" And Kaelan echoed, curious. They appeared much too little and detailed to be utilized for path marking in the manner of blazed trees or cairns.

Grakka stated, "Goblin ways are not human ways," but without the typical contempt. The thing she was working on was held up. A set of sharp, interlocking V-shapes served as the sign. "This means 'Good water source nearby, flows east'." She took up another completed piece with a different, spiral-shaped carving from the bench next to her. "This one? There is treacherous terrain ahead. loose rock.

She gave a succinct, accurate explanation of how goblin patrols employed these tiny, discrete markers—bone, carved wood, and occasionally particular pebble arrangements—and placed them in discrete locations that were only known to those who had been inducted into the system. Important information was transmitted by each symbol, including the location of the prey, the presence of foes, warnings of natural risks, and the state of the paths. She stated, "Different clans, different patrols use variations," indicating a faint indentation on one marking. "Avoids misunderstandings. makes it difficult for adversaries to read our paths.

Fascinated, Kaelan listened. It was a whole silent language, practical and complex, built into the terrain itself. It described a close relationship with the natural world, careful observation, and an intricate communication system built for surviving in hostile environments. In contrast to the human view of goblin culture as chaotic and primitive, it suggested organization and shared knowledge that had been passed down through the years.

"That requires… remarkable memory," saw Kaelan. "To know all the signs, their placement, the clan variations."

With a shrug, Grakka went back to carving. "You get knowledge. Or you turn into a marker's bone. Her pragmatism was unquestionable, but beneath it lay an indisputable talent, an artistic ability borne of need.

Only a few minutes passed throughout the interaction. Sensing that the short window of communication was closing, Kaelan refrained from asking any further inquiries. Grakka seems to have already dismissed him as she finished drawing a narrow line. "Thank you," Kaelan said softly, the words seeming a little odd coming out of his mouth in this situation. She didn't glance up; she just grunted back.

He left her to her work and backed up from the armory. He relived the brief exchange in his thoughts. markings on the trail. Inscribed in bone is a silent language. Perhaps it was a little feature of goblin fieldcraft, a little bit. But it felt important. Another fragment of the hideous caricature that had been ingrained in his memory since he was a young boy was chipped away by it. In addition to being a strong warrior and a practical survival, Grakka also possessed deep, specialized knowledge and was a part of a society that had its own elaborate systems and nuanced artistic expressions that were formed out of necessity.

Back alone, Grakka touched the newly carved symbol with her thumb. The knight had asked an unexpected inquiry. His curiosity had come as a surprise, without the typical human dread or disdain. He had inquired about purpose and function. A useful investigation. She discovered that she had no problem responding. Of course, nothing changed. He was still a softskin, still shackled by heavy metal and useless honor. He wasn't completely blind, though. Perhaps he had recognized not only the thing but also the expertise involved. A small piece of information, tucked away. She picked up a second bone fragment. Before her warriors finally made their way back to familiar ground, there were plenty of marks to etch. There was work to be done.