Gems, jewels, and crystals are sought after in the world for many different reasons. Those of the magical arts sometimes require them to cast their most potent spells, nobles desire them in order to display their status above all others, and if worst comes to worst, they make excellent trading fodder.
For Har Vetro, the sight of gems gave him inspiration. He heard almost a calling from gems, a want to be in with the finer things in life, and working with gems was sure to be the path to getting what he wanted.
But for the longest time, he did not know how exactly he could use gems. He only knew what his gut told him. That was until he reached the age where he had become more aware of the world, and started seeing the merchants that his clan did business with.
They came from all over, and came in many different shapes, sizes, and colours. Tall with slender features, pale skin, and horns of all different magnitudes. Closer to kobold height but with the faces of birds and rats. Amongst all of them though, they shared one common trait.
Stories.
Every merchant Har came into contact with told the most fantastical stories, of worlds beyond dark portals, lands where dragons ruled above all else, and forests full of mysterious items just waiting to be plundered.
One day the young kobold tugged on an errant bit of fur on a coat to get the attention of a Northlands merchant, who had been selling various pelts from his homeland. “Aye lad, can I help you?”, he said, confused at the kobold getting his attention in such an odd way, but smiling warmly all the same.
“Yes I uh…”, Har Vetro trailed off, nerves setting in at speaking to a merchant properly for the first time, “I… want to be like you…”.
“Oh? You wanna be a merchant?”
“Yes! Uhm… gems…?”
“You want to trade in gems?”
Har Vetro nodded enthusiastically, and the merchant rubbed his thick, greying beard, feeling a little perplexed at the nature of this kobold compared to the rest of his clan. Whilst most kobolds had a cunning intellect and fierce engineering prowess, it was a bit unusual to meet one so interested in such an intricate art such as gems.
“Hmm… best bet would be heading east from here,” the merchant said, taking out a hand-drawn map, showing various towns and cities with small icons next to them, pointing to one with a gem, a stick figure, and a fencepost, “this town is called Menlo, it has a handful of respected jewellers who might be interested in taking an apprentice on. Plenty of other ventures if gems don’t work out.”
The kobold’s eyes gleamed like the object of his fascination. This was his chance to break out into the world beyond the clan and find his life’s greater purpose. The Northlands merchant had offered to take him, but Har wanted a day or two to get his affairs in order before leaving. They exchanged names properly before parting ways, with the Northlander giving his name as Valtteron.
When the day finally came, there was no real fanfare or solemn goodbye from the rest of the clan, just a mere “safe travels” from many. It did not bother the kobold much, as he knew he was going to be able to do great things in the wider world.
Travelling to Menlo was mostly uneventful, a few wandering adventuring parties were found along the way, whose stories Har also listened to. Whilst the life of an adventurer sounded exciting, he knew the dangers would far exceed any of his tolerances for what he was willing to put up with.
After approximately three days worth of travel, he had arrived, and was almost immediately shocked by the new environment before him. Merchants and other traders bustled through busy streets as all sorts of customers haggled for different wares – all of them much taller than the kobold, leading to some feeling of intimidation.
Nonetheless, he carried on through the crowds of people, looking to whatever stands he came across hoping he could find a jeweller. It took some time, but eventually they reached a fairly shabby looking stand, with wooden crates filled with gems of all different cuts.
Their short stature meant they only came eye level to the hand-painted sign hanging beneath the stand, reading “Gems! I got them! You probably want them!”. To a lot of others in the market, such an unprofessional sign meant business was usually lacking. To Har, this triggered his fixation, leading to him jumping up and down to get the proprietor’s attention.
“Huh… what… kobold?”, the somewhat sleepy stall owner said as they saw Har jumping in front of their eyes, “what are you looking for little guy?”.
Har stopped jumping and walked round the side of the stall in order to have a proper conversation. “My name is Har Vetro,” he began, puffing out his chest slightly to appear more confident, “and I am looking to travel the world as a merchant in search of stories and gems!”
“Uh huh…”, the stall owner nodded slowly, not really being all there themselves, “and you came to me because…?”
“Uhm, well, I was told the great town of Menlo had many respected jewellers looking for apprentices, and your professional stand made me decide to approach you!”
“Right… not exactly hiring an apprentice per say, but I do got a lot of gems that need refinement… suppose I could put you to work with the cutting tools…”
The lack of enthusiasm in the merchant’s voice would be apparent to almost any discerning individual.
Har Vetro did not know the meaning of the word.
To him, this felt like a real chance to get the experience, and funds, he needed to break free into the world. Without taking much time to deliberate, Har agreed to the offer and once more exchanged names, learning this merchant was called Cozbi.
Work was as described. Everyday Har would come to the stand and take position behind Cozbi, being handed various unprocessed stones with instructions on how they were to be cut. Business was slow but consistent, with customers of all colours coming to purchase gems, some respectable looking types, some much shadier.
However, despite how much money Cozbi was taking in, Har very rarely saw a major cut of the profits, barely making enough to support their lodgings and lifestyle leading to not being able to save towards their goal of travelling the continents.
This continued for a couple of months, until finally Har was informed that the stall would be closing. Cozbi had made enough money to comfortably retire to somewhere in the Southlands, and that Har’s services would no longer be required, he was free to keep the jeweller’s tools though as Cozbi had no use of them.
Disheartened, but with moderate experience under his belt, Har took the journey back to his clan. They had not given him much fanfare on departure, but he knew they would welcome him back, after all he now had the knowledge that could help the clan’s spoils from the mine.
This was most certainly not the case, as they were stopped by two watchmen as they attempted to enter back into the clan.
“But… but I can help the clan! I went off and learnt gem cutting under an expert merchant!”, Har said, feeling hurt at the actions of his once clutchmates.
“You could have learnt that here,” one watchman said, snarling slightly as he did.
“But you were too good for us, you had to go off to a big city and leave us behind,” the other watchman said, matching the snarl with a growl of his own before the two spoke in unison.
“By order of the King, Har Vetro is hereby banished from the clan. They are persona non grata, and their name is taboo. Any attempt by the banished to re-enter the clan will be met with deadly force.”
Har wanted to argue his case.
Har wanted to buy his way back into the clan’s good graces.
In the end, Har walked away. Alone, cut off, lost.
Knowing nowhere else within the vicinity, he decided to head back to Menlo. Despite being left high and dry by their previous employer, they did still have some savings with which to support a meagre lifestyle whilst they tried to find another source of revenue within town.
For tonight though, he was going to drown their sorrows at the inn he was staying at. It was a fairly busy night, with different groups all doing their own thing. Har sat alone, with a bevy of drinks they pre-bought to avoid having to get up from their table, preferring to just sit and stew for a moment.
“Psst…”, came a voice from behind Har, startling him slightly before turning around to find its owner, a hooded gnoll, “hey, kobold, come over here for a moment.”
Har stood up from their table, taking one of the larger bottles of spirit with them as the gnoll guided him into a darker part of the inn to speak quietly, but not before grabbing his maw and looking closely at his eyes. The kobold attempted to protest but was quickly let go, “good, you’re not too drunk yet,” said the gnoll.
“And what exactly can I do for you, my good sir?”, Har said, brushing themselves down before taking a swig.
“Bastard behind the bar took my blades in a card game. And I want them back.”
“My apologies, I am not one to bet or one to be good at card games.”
“Don’t need you to be,” the gnoll said, gesturing down to a broken space in between boards leading to the backrooms, “I’ll cause a distraction up front, you crawl through and grab my swords. They’re in burgundy sheaths so should be easy to spot.”
This request gave Har pause. He was not a criminal, he did not have the minerals within him to commit such acts.
“Get it done quick and quiet, once you get my beauties back to me I’ll pay you ten gold.”
How much?
That was a lot of money. That would allow Har to support themselves for some time yet as they tried to find honest work in town. It was just one slightly dishonest job, how bad could it be?
He gave the gnoll a confident nod, crouching down to the space before watching them go off and launch into an angry tirade at a random patron.
“AND ABOUT HOW MUCH OF A SLUT YOU WERE BACK THEN!”
A number of people jumped into action to try to break up this seemingly random fight, including several of the bartenders. Crawling through the boards, Har got into the backroom and scanned the area. There were a lot of barrels, some crates of dried food, some fresh from the market.
There.
Right at the back.
A rapier and a dagger, both encased in custom burgundy sheaths. Har danced along the floor, as the argument seemed to reach its conclusion with the gnoll being asked politely to leave, or else there would be further problems. Har did not have much time, they grabbed the swords, but froze as soon as they heard the door open.
“Bloody furry bastard… glad I took his fucking swords…”
This was bad. Har was about to get caught, and considering what he was holding, he would most definitely be seen as an accomplice to what just took place. In a moment of equal parts cunning and panic, he grabbed an apple and tossed it against a far wall, splattering into pieces as it impacted.
“What was that?!”
The person who had entered the backroom went to go investigate the sound. Quickly scanning his surroundings Har saw an opening onto the streets through another broken wall and dashed out of it, sliding underneath and making a beeline to front of the inn.
The gnoll stood grumbling outside, lamenting that they might never get to see their precious weapons again, until Har came up to them and presented them.
“Well I’ll be…”, they said with a toothy smile, taking their weapons and securing them back on their person, “my distraction plan went wrong and you still got these out without a fuss.”
Har smiled weakly, his heart beating incredibly fast from the adrenaline of such a close call. The gnoll leaned down and handed him the promised sack of gold, “I’ll also be letting some of the undesirables in town know of your services,” they said, walking off into the night, “friends of mine could use a guy like you.”
Har tried to protest, but the gnoll was already far gone. The weight of the sack of gold reassured him somewhat, but uncertainty gripped him about being asked to do more work for “undesirables”, whatever that meant exactly. For now, they were tired, and very much needed a long rest.
Morning came, and Har awoke to a selection of notes having been pushed under his door. All of them were written in thieves’ cant, but he had a basic enough understanding to know what was being asked of him.
Informant duties. Asset recovery. Fence services. All manner of illicit acts and deeds that Har would have never considered before today. He was in need of reliable income though, and if this was needed to fund a more honourable merchant career, what was the harm?
This cycle continued for a while, the nights would be spent fulfilling requests and handling the needs of all manner of customers, with new notes being left under the door each morning. With such steady work, Har was able to afford a more modest lifestyle, and save towards their merchant career.
However it was still seemingly not enough to fund a journey across the continents, it would not even have been enough to buy a bag of gems at Cozbi’s old stall.
This led to Har hatching an idea, he would start bigging himself up more on certain jobs, embellishing his achievements and hinting that he has taken on much more dangerous jobs than he is already taking. This would surely lead to better things, right?
It only took a couple of days for these rumours to take root, news travels fast in underground communities. Now Har was receiving more difficult and dangerous duties. Complex heists. Poisoning politicians. Smuggling things in and out of Menlo.
These jobs were completed and the money started rolling in more. Soon enough all Har needed to do was one last job before having everything they needed to start their journey as an honest merchant.
And as if by magic, one final lucrative opportunity came up in the form of a box filled with bags of platinum and instructions.
“Scales. Rendezvous at town’s edge at midnight. Live cargo requiring delivery to the local academy. Bring included payment to Boreas. Anything left is yours.”
From what he could interpret, Har figured this was some kind of monster being smuggled into the local arcane academy which needed discretion and caution to avoid startling the townsfolk. With one large sack of platinum and one smaller sack, Har knew this would be more than enough to start life anew.
The arranged time came closer, and Har approached the designated meeting point. Once they got there they heard a familiar voice call out to them.
It was Valtteron. The merchant who had inspired them to go on their journey to Menlo. Behind them they were pulling a large metal cage cart, full of…
Humanoids.
In chains.
This was not a monster delivery job.
This was slave transportation.
“B-Boreas?”, Har said, stuttering their words in disbelief at the merchant they looked up to initially carrying such an immoral cargo.
“Aye, it means “northern wind”… local abbess is fond of specific nicknames for who she works with.”
“Abbess? I thought this was going to the magic school…”
“Ahh, your thieves’ cant must need some work. Academy means “brothel”, and abbess is the mistress of said brothel. Needs new stock so I brought some in.”
“You… you trade in slaves?!”
“Aye, you saw my map right? Menlo is good for gems, fences, and slaves, as noted by my icons.”
In that short moment, Har’s world shattered completely. The person who had been the impetus for him starting this journey was completely amoral to the deeds he was committing, seeing them simply as ‘stock’ rather than real people who had been forced into this.
Har looked deep within himself, and realised that this was the level he had brought himself to through his deeds. This was the natural consequence of his actions, dealing with slavers and the moral weight that came with it.
He had set out to become a merchant, but instead had become not even a common criminal, but a professional one, taking on duties they never expected to because of the lies he told.
The kobold silently walked over to Valtteron and handed him the large bag of platinum. “I’ll get the job done,” he said, trying his best to put on a salesman’s smile, “you go get yourself some rest.”
“You sure lad?”, Valtteron said, “usually I handle jobs like these with both myself and the bag man.”
“Positive, they’re all chained up so I should have no issue sneaking them across town.”
The Northlander gave a nod before taking the sack, handing over the keys, and whistling away into the night. Har waited until the sound had fully disappeared before opening up the cage doors.
All of the humanoids cowered in fear as he went near them, but relaxed their posture as Har went around and unlocked their manacles. Thinking this was their chance for freedom, once all of them were out of their chains they jumped on Har, attempting to beat him down so they had a clear break at an escape.
Whilst he realised he most certainly deserved this, for a multitude of reasons, he spoke his case as well as he could. “Stop, please!”, he said, jostling himself away from the angry former slaves, “I’m not taking you to the brothel… I’m setting you free…”
All of the slaves stopped in that moment.
All bar one, who already had the momentum going for a stomach kick and followed through with it, knocking the wind out of Har.
“Okay… still definitely deserved that… even if it hurt…”
“I got into a criminal lifestyle to try to fund a more honourable career, but it was a fool’s errand… please, let me help you start new lives, as penance.”
The humanoids looked among themselves, trying to communicate through facial expressions and body language alone. After a brief non-verbal deliberation, they all nodded, following Har off of the cart and tailing him to the inn he had been staying at.
Upon seeing all of these people so late the landlord tried to kick up a fuss, but the other bag of platinum Har had acquired as part of this job shut him up very quickly. The kobold worked tirelessly to set up each former slave with clothes, supplies, a destination, and most importantly, gold, from his own personal stash no less.
By the early hours of dawn, each one of them was ready to start a new life, as Har guided them through a smuggling route only he knew about, leading them out of the city and far away from the life they were going to be forced to.
After the last one had disappeared out of sight, Har looked over at the town before making his own disappearing act. Setting up all of the former slaves with enough money to make it somewhere had massively depleted his own resources, leaving him with only a few gold pieces.
He wandered the plains for a week or two, trying to find any semblance of civilization for him to try to embed himself in, ideally far away from anything criminal.
Eventually, the wanderings of Har Vetro brought him to the great city of Zobeck, a major trading hub within the world. A fine place to learn to become a more honest merchant, and for Har to maybe find a new kobold family.
The streets were busy, far more busy than Menlo ever was. Traders of all kinds bartered and bargained with customers of all types. Har thought back to when he approached Cozbi, wondering if he should do that here, but paranoia prevailed and he kept on walking until he reached a more kobold centric area of the city.
Various doors of different clans came into sight. One with pickaxes, but Har was not one for the mines. Another with swords, but Har was not an aggressive type.
One door stood out to him, one with an elaborate cog design engraved into it. He recognised it from one of his previous jobs, a kobold king from Zobeck named Vantar had asked for some important components to be retrieved for them. Har figured since they had rapport, they would have a better chance at finding asylum here.
He knocked the door, and it opened gently to a moderately armoured kobold guardsman. Despite their appearance, they were remarkably friendly, “hello there, how are you doing?”
Har was upfront about his intentions, “I seek an audience with King Vantar.”
The guardsman remained friendly, but was now wary of the kobold before them, “that’s a bit of a bold request from a stranger,” they said, holding the door slightly ajar, “may I ask who you are?”
“My name is Har Vetro, I was asked to do a job for your clan back in Menlo, recovering components of some kind.”
A gasp escaped from the guardsman’s maw as he flung the door wide open and invited Har inside, muttering rapidly about “the one who saved the king”, bringing him deep within the warren to eventually reach the king’s chambers.
What Har was expecting was a kobold.
They were not expecting this kobold to be a Gearforged.
A Gearforged is created when a soul is transplanted into a soul gem, which is then placed inside a body of metal and cogs, effectively granting the individual eternal life. Replacement components for Gearforged can sometimes be tricky to find, but this bit of information gave Har more context on why the job initially came through.
“Your excellency, I present Har Vetro,” the guardsman said, announcing the arrival of the so-called saviour, “he is the one who gathered parts for your repair!”
Vantar whirred into life, standing from his throne and approaching Har. A normal kobold stood around three-feet, but due to his mechanical body, Vantar stood almost double that height. “You did me a great service,” he said, a synthetic yet melodic voice ringing out, “ask anything of me, and I shall do my best to give it.”
Har stood for a moment, pondering what he should say. He could lie about why he came here and play the situation into his hands, or he could twist the truth to achieve a similar goal.
Not today, Har thought. Both routes were how he got himself into this mess, the truth would better serve his intentions here.
“I seek asylum under your leadership. Back in Menlo I was involved in all sorts of criminal activity, none of which I ever wanted to be a part of. My breaking point came when I was asked to transport slaves to a brothel, instead I set them free and left the town behind, eventually coming to your door with this humble request.”
Gears and pistons whirred and pushed as Vantar considered this request, before giving a nod paired with a bow. “I shall honour your request,” he said, looking his new subject up and down, “you have both asylum and a new name under my protection.”
“New name?”, Har said, curious but mildly concerned.
“Yes, the criminal known as Har Vetro is no more. The kobold merchant known as “Honesty” will serve this clan better.”
Honesty was filled with all different emotions, but all of them were positive. He had been given a new start and a new chance at realising his dreams.
This kobold clan was friendlier than his initial one as well. They gave him the rundown on how Zobeck works, the different kinds of people within it, along with the latest murmurings from the Shadow Realm. Shadow fey were a key part of Zobeck’s economy, with a lot of them speaking in hushed whispers about an incident involving a phoenix sorcerer a couple weeks back.
Nonetheless, Honesty had found a new home, a new life, and a new chance to be who they wanted to be.
Inspiration
Commission number two done, and it is entirely fitting that it fits into the Marieyaverse.
Patent pending, that stupid name is mine.
The person who plays Honesty had their backstory written down in note form for the longest time, and upon learning that I was now accepting commissions, asked me to translate these notes into a proper story.
Working from notes with creative freedom in how to interpret them was incredibly fun, because normally I do not work from notes in my own work. For backstory pieces I have plot beats in mind and general story progression but I tend to go with my own flow, and for session-inspired stories I normally reconstruct them from the chat logs in the server.
Having that creative freedom led to some interesting story moments. There was nothing specific in Honesty’s backstory about where they did most of their crimes, and who exactly was selling slaves, which led to me developing Valtteron as this almost amoral sort of character who changed Honesty’s path multiple times, for better or worse.
Random side tangent: there’s two themes I always seem to put into my stories one way or another, usually entirely subconsciously. They are the themes of “being transgender”, and “being lonely”. Now, the loneliness theme should be apparent, Honesty being left alone because of their actions multiple times.
But as I was going over this story during the editing phase, I had a realisation that made me swear quite loudly once I had realised the trans theme had snuck in. Honesty is a new name, given to someone who wants to leave their old life behind…
“Har Vetro” is Honesty’s deadname.
I said when I started this year I wanted to write stories “sharing joy about being trans”, I was not expecting that theme to insert itself even into my commissions.
So… hire me if you want trans fiction no matter the scenario?
As usual, any and all feedback is appreciated.
Rosalia Rambles 
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