Doc woke to the faint sound of voices filtering through the stone walls. Fish lay curled beside him, her violet-marked fur rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. The small chamber Ygrana had provided was simple—a stone shelf carved into the wall, thick furs for warmth, and a basin in the corner—but it had served its purpose.

  "Morning," Doc murmured.

  Fish's ears twitched. One amber eye cracked open, regarded him briefly, then closed again.

  Good morning, Lux replied. You slept seven hours, twelve minutes. Vitals are stable. No alerts overnight.

  Doc sat up carefully, rolling his shoulders. The settlement had a faint chill to it despite the vents that kept the deeper chambers warm. He reached for his EVA suit, checking the seals and power levels out of habit.

  "Where's everyone?"

  Calen remains in the alcove assigned to him and Bran. Biosignature suggests he is still sleeping. Bran is in the kitchen alcove—thermal imaging indicates active cooking. Mazoga is at the northern gate. Marron appears to be with her. Tanna is near the animal pens with Moss-ear.

  Doc nodded. "Any activity overnight?"

  None. Perimeter scouts reported no anomalies. Settlement activity resumed at dawn.

  "Good."

  Doc finished dressing, securing his cloak and checking his plasma blade. Fish stretched languidly, then hopped down from the stone shelf and padded to his side.

  Together, they stepped into the corridor.

  The settlement had transformed since he was last here. Where frantic repairs had dominated before, now there was rhythm. Goblins hauled supplies through the tunnels with steady purpose. Kobolds worked the forge alcoves, their hammers ringing in controlled patterns. A pair of young gnolls sparred near one of the wider chambers, their movements deliberate and supervised.

  Doc walked through the main corridor, observing the shift. The tension from the draugr attack had loosened its hold. People moved with something closer to normalcy.

  As he passed, heads turned. A goblin hauling firewood paused, dipped his chin in acknowledgment, then continued on. A kobold woman sorting tools glanced up, met Doc's eyes briefly, and nodded with quiet respect. Even the children watching from the alcoves tracked him with wide-eyed attention.

  Social recognition threshold reached, Lux noted. Estimated settlement approval rating: moderate to high. Likely attributable to combat performance during draugr incursion.

  Doc kept his expression neutral. The respect came whether he wanted it or not. He'd fought the Greater Draugr alongside Mazoga. The settlement had survived because of it. That kind of thing left an impression.

  He passed the kitchen alcove and caught a glimpse of Bran working the portable oven, kneading dough. Brikka stood beside him, carefully shaping smaller loaves under his guidance. She glanced up as Doc passed, her sharp features brightening for a moment.

  Doc raised a hand in a brief wave.

  Brikka returned it shyly, then ducked her head and turned back to the dough, her pointed ears twitching slightly.

  Doc continued toward the northern gate. The tunnels gradually widened, the walls giving way to rougher-hewn passages reinforced with timber and iron brackets. Voices echoed faintly ahead—low, measured tones he recognized immediately.

  He emerged into the open space near the gate. The morning light filtered down through gaps in the fortifications, painting streaks of pale gold across the snow-dusted ground. Mazoga stood near the repaired wall, her Ravageboar armor catching the light in dull bronze and leather. Marron stood beside her, hands tucked into his coat, his breath misting faintly in the cold.

  Both turned as Doc and Fish approached.

  Mazoga's expression was grim as she turned..

  "Found something northeast of here," she said without preamble. "Cave about a few hours out. Rurran, Jorik, and I went to see where the draugr came from."

  Doc listened while Fish settled beside him, ears alert.

  "There was a ritual circle," Mazoga continued. "Shattered cores. Ash. Symbols carved into the walls. Someone raised that horde deliberately."

  Marron's face tightened. "You're certain?"

  "Graveblossoms growing in the walls. Boot prints leading away. Fresh ash in the circle." Mazoga crossed her arms. "Someone's testing necromancy up here."

  Doc felt Lux processing the implications immediately.

  Deliberate. Systematic. They're refining the process.

  Marron exhaled slowly, his breath misting. "Edda would like us to establish contact with Glasshold. Do trades there, build relationships."

  He paused. "We've done what we can for Threeburrow. With the trade contract in place, they'll be sending their own trade runs to the Settlement now. Glasshold needs to be warned about this, and we need allies beyond these mountains."

  Doc thought about it for a moment, weighing the logistics. Glasshold was the regional power. If someone was experimenting with raising undead hordes, the clans and the Empire both needed to know.

  "I agree," he said. "I am planning a tech demo of how the radios work. We'll leave a few here so Threeburrow can maintain contact with the us as long as we are within range."

  Mazoga tilted her head slightly. "Tech demo?"

  Marron frowned. "What's a tech demo?"

  Doc paused, glancing inward.

  Lux, how do I explain this?

  Recommended framing: demonstration of craft function for prospective users. Analogous to a blacksmith showing how a blade holds an edge or a merchant proving goods before purchase.

  Doc nodded. "It's a demonstration. We'll show the folks in the village how the radios work—how to speak through them, how to change channels, how to maintain the batteries. Then we'll leave units here so they understand what they're getting and how to use them properly."

  Mazoga's expression cleared. "That makes sense. I'll get with Rurran so the warriors can hear what's going on. Good for them to understand how it works if they're going to rely on it."

  "Agreed," Doc said. "I'll go get things set up."

  Marron adjusted his coat. "I'll meet with Kraggir. He'll want to know the plan before we leave for Glasshold."

  Doc glanced around the settlement entrance. "Where would be a good place for this?"

  Mazoga considered briefly. "Kitchen area. Central. Everyone passes through there anyway. Easy to gather people."

  Doc nodded. "I'll handle it."

  He turned and headed back into the tunnels with Fish at his side, already running through the setup in his mind.

  Lux, prep the demonstration protocol. Keep it simple—basic transmission, channel switching, battery maintenance.

  Acknowledged. Preparing instructional framework optimized for low-technical-literacy audience.

  Doc allowed himself a faint smile as he walked.

  A product demo in a goblin settlement carved into a mountain.

  Not how he'd expected his career to go.

  Calen woke to a sharp sound at his belt.

  He blinked into the dim light of the small chamber, disoriented for half a second before muscle memory kicked in. His hand found the radio, unclipped it, thumbed the button.

  "Calen here."

  Doc's voice came through clean, no static. "Morning. Got a minute?"

  Calen sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah. What's up?"

  "Need your help with the radio demonstration. Can you meet me in the kitchen area?"

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Calen nodded before remembering Doc couldn't see him. "On my way."

  "Thanks."

  The line clicked off.

  Calen dressed quickly, pulling on his patched jacket and checking the circuit-scars along his forearms. The silvery lines caught the faint light from the tunnel beyond his door, pulsing faintly with residual energy. He grabbed his pack and stepped into the corridor.

  The settlement was fully awake now. Calen couldn't believe he'd overslept. A kobold woman passed him carrying a bundle of frostleaf. Two gnoll children chased each other down the corridor, their laughter echoing off stone. The air smelled of warm bread and heated rock.

  Calen made his way toward the kitchen alcove, his thoughts drifting back to a few days earlier. He'd shown Kraggir and Sivvy how the radios worked—explaining the buttons, the battery slots, the range. Kraggir had held the device like it was sacred. Sivvy had bounced on his toes the entire time.

  Calen still felt the warmth of that moment.

  He rounded the corner into the kitchen area and stopped.

  People had already gathered. More than he expected.

  Bran stood near the central hearth, ladling soup into wooden bowls with Brikka at his side. Sivvy darted between them, carrying bowls to waiting hands.

  Tanna sat near the edge of the space beside Ygrana. The old shaman's layered furs and bone charms contrasted sharply with Tanna's simple travel leathers. Moss-ear perched on Tanna's shoulder, his horn glinting faintly in the firelight.

  Tanna glanced up as Calen approached and waved.

  He waved back, catching the tail end of their conversation.

  "...didn't need much space," Tanna was saying to Ygrana. "Just enough for the coop. Our builders, Tor and Brenn, built one at our settlement in an afternoon."

  Ygrana nodded slowly, satisfaction crossing her weathered features.

  Doc stood near a low bench off to one side, two radios laid out in front of him. Fish sat at his feet, ears alert, watching the gathering crowd with calm curiosity.

  Calen walked over.

  "Need help?" he asked.

  Doc glanced up. "Mostly set. Just need someone to demonstrate the two-way transmission. Figured you'd be good for that."

  Calen nodded. "Yeah. I can do that."

  Doc handed nodded and said. "I'll explain the basics first. Then we'll show them how it works. Keep it simple."

  "Got it."

  More villagers had filtered in—kobolds, goblins, a few gnolls standing near the back. Rurran leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Kraggir stood beside him, tail flicking thoughtfully.

  The smell of fresh bread filled the space. Conversations buzzed quietly.

  Doc straightened and raised his voice just enough to carry.

  "Thanks for coming," he said. "This won't take long."

  The room quieted.

  Calen felt the weight of their attention shift.

  He stood beside Doc, ready.

  Doc stood near the central hearth, two bronze-cased radios resting on the stone table beside him. The gathered crowd—kobolds, goblins, and gnolls—watched with varying degrees of curiosity and suspicion. Fish sat at his feet, tail curled around her paws, violet eyes tracking the movements of those nearest.

  "I'm Doc," he began, his voice carrying easily in the big space. "As part of the agreement between our settlements, Kraggir requested communication devices. These"—he gestured to the radios—"are what we call radios. They let you talk across distances without needing line of sight or magical projection."

  He picked up one of the devices, turning it slowly so the crowd could see. "This is the antenna." He indicated the collapsible rod. "It catches the energy waves. This button here transmits your voice when you press it. The battery bay holds the power source—same type of core we use in other tools. And this dial"—he tapped the side—"lets you change channels so different groups can communicate without interfering with each other."

  Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Kraggir nodded from where he stood near Ygrana and Rurran—the three leaders had already seen the devices in action, but they watched with the attention of those evaluating a tool's practical worth. Around them, younger goblins and kobolds craned their necks, whispering questions to one another.

  "The range depends on terrain," Doc continued, "but under normal conditions, you can communicate clearly for several miles. If you set up a relay station on higher ground, that range extends significantly."

  He glanced toward Calen, who stood near the chamber's entrance. "Calen, would you step outside? I want to demonstrate how these work."

  Calen nodded, moving toward the passage. Before he could leave, Sivvy pushed through the crowd, bowl abandoned on a nearby shelf. "I'll go too," the young goblin announced, falling into step beside Calen.

  The two disappeared into the corridor, their footsteps fading as they headed toward the northern gate. Doc waited, counting silently with Lux tracking Calen's position through the settlement's stone passages.

  They have cleared the kitchen corridor, Lux reported. Proceeding toward the outer gate.

  Doc lifted the radio, showing the crowd how he positioned his thumb over the transmit button. "When you're ready to speak, you press and hold this button. Speak clearly and directly into the device." He demonstrated the grip, then pressed the button. The radio emitted a brief static hiss.

  "Calen, can you hear me?"

  He released the button. For a heartbeat, only silence filled the chamber. Then the radio crackled to life, Calen's voice emerging from the bronze casing as clearly as if he stood in the room.

  "I hear you, Doc. We're at the northern gate now."

  Gasps rippled through the crowd. Several kobolds stepped forward, eyes wide. Even the gnolls who'd been watching with skeptical arms crossed now leaned in with visible interest. Kraggir's tail flicked once—satisfaction rather than surprise—while Ygrana's weathered features showed the faint trace of approval. Rurran remained still, but his ears were fully forward, attentive.

  Doc lowered the radio, scanning the gathered faces. Most watched with fascination, but a few looked uncertain—caught between wanting to understand and not wanting to appear foolish by asking. He needed someone approachable to demonstrate, someone the crowd would relate to.

  His gaze settled on Brikka, who stood near the edge of the group with her hands tucked into her oversized scarf. The young goblin had been helping Bran distribute soup earlier.

  "Brikka," Doc said, keeping his tone gentle. "Would you come over here?"

  She froze, eyes widening. Around her, other goblins shifted, creating a path. Brikka hesitated, glancing toward Ygrana as if seeking permission. The matron gave a small nod.

  Slowly, Brikka approached, her steps careful. When she reached Doc, she kept her gaze fixed on the radio rather than meeting his eyes.

  "It's pretty simple to use," Doc said, holding the device out to her. "Just hold it like this"—he guided her hands into position—"and press this button when you want to talk. You can let go when you're done."

  Brikka's fingers trembled slightly as she gripped the bronze casing. She stared at the button, then looked up at Doc with uncertainty clear in her amber eyes.

  "Go ahead," he encouraged. "Call Calen and Sivvy."

  She pressed the button, the mechanism clicking softly. "Sivvy?" Her voice came out barely above a whisper. "Can you hear me?"

  The radio crackled. Sivvy's excited voice burst through the speaker. "Brikka! I can hear you! This thing is amazing! Wait until you see how—"

  Static cut off the rest as Brikka mouth fell open. She stared at the device in her hands like it had just performed a miracle, then looked up at Doc with wonder replacing her nervousness.

  Murmurs spread through the crowd, louder this time. Several younger goblins pressed forward, trying to get a better look. Even some of the older kobolds were nodding to one another, clearly impressed.

  Rurran stepped closer, his tall frame cutting through the crowd. His copper eyes studied the radio with the careful attention of someone evaluating a weapon. "What are the limitations?"

  Doc appreciated the directness. "The biggest limitation is the battery." He took the radio back from Brikka—who retreated quickly but with a small smile—and turned it over, showing the panel on the back. "This powers it. When the light dims, swap the battery."

  He demonstrated the removal, sliding the panel aside to reveal the compartment. The monster core fragment inside pulsed faintly with contained energy. With practiced movements, Doc extracted the battery and held it up for the crowd to see.

  "Simple," he explained, retrieving a spare from his belt pouch. "Line up the contacts here"—he pointed to the metal strips—"slide it in until it clicks, then close the panel."

  The replacement took seconds. When he pressed the transmit button, the radio responded immediately, no calibration needed.

  Doc reached into his pack and withdrew a bundle wrapped in oiled cloth. He unfolded it carefully, revealing six spare batteries nestled in protective padding. Beside them sat a compact device with crystalline nodes—Carl's battery charger.

  "We're leaving these with you," Doc said, setting them on the table. "The charger draws ambient energy to restore depleted batteries. Takes about a day per battery, but it means you won't run out."

  Kraggir moved forward, his slate-blue scales catching the firelight as he examined the charger with interest. His tail flicked thoughtfully. "How many radios are you leaving?"

  "Three this time," Doc replied. "We brought what we could spare for this trip. But if you travel to our settlement for trade runs, we can provide more. Carl's been improving the design—better range, more efficient batteries."

  Kraggir nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "Three is a start. One for each of us." He glanced at Ygrana and Rurran, who both acknowledged the logic with subtle gestures.

  A communication network, Lux observed. They're already thinking strategically.

  Doc noticed it too—the way the three leaders exchanged looks, already planning how to deploy the devices. Threeburrow might be small, but its leadership understood value when they saw it.

  Ygrana watched as Doc and Calen moved through the gathered crowd, their bronze devices drawing curious touches and careful questions. The kobolds clustered close, their scaled fingers tracing the metal casings. Goblins leaned in, listening to Doc's patient explanations about energy flow and voice transmission. Even the gnolls, typically wary of unfamiliar technology, studied the radios with visible interest.

  Doc answered each question with the same measured calm he'd shown during the draugr fight—no irritation or dismissal like some mages she had met. Just steady instruction. Calen mirrored that patience, demonstrating battery replacement for the third time without complaint.

  Strange ones, Ygrana thought. Powerful enough to break monsters. Kind enough to teach children.

  Mazoga's presence registered at her side before the orc woman spoke—a subtle shift in the air, the faint scent of leather and steel.

  "We'll be leaving soon," Mazoga said quietly.

  Ygrana turned, meeting the warrior's eyes. "To Glasshold?"

  Mazoga nodded. "Our leader wants us to make contact. Build bridges before winter deepens."

  "You've done all you could for this village," Ygrana said. The words came easier than expected. "Threeburrow will be forever grateful."

  She paused, letting the statement settle. Gratitude wasn't given lightly among outcasts. Promises made in desperation broke like river ice. But these strangers had bled beside them, fed their wounded, shared their knowledge without price.

  They earned this.

  "We're planning to send Rurrak with you," Ygrana continued. "He knows the paths to Glasshold. Should be able to get you in contact with someone there."

  Rurran nephew had recovered quickly—faster than expected, especially with the outsiders' strange medicines. He'd already volunteered for the journey, eager to warn Glasshold about the necromancer's ritual.

  Mazoga's expression softened—barely noticeable, but there. "Appreciated."

  Across the chamber, Sivvy's laughter echoed as Calen showed him how to adjust the radio's frequency. Brikka watched from the kitchen alcove, her small hands kneading dough with carefully.

  Learning. Growing. Living.

  Ygrana's gaze drifted to the northern tunnel, toward the cave where graveblossoms still fed on necrotic energy. Toward whoever had stood in that darkness and raised the dead with deliberate purpose.

  The outsiders would reach Glasshold. They would warn the clans. The Empire would know.

  But warnings took time to travel. Time to be believed. Time to matter.

  Ygrana looked back at the gathered villagers—her people, learning to speak across mountains with bronze and wire. She thought of the contract Marron had written, binding their settlements together with magic that enforced trust.

  Small things, fragile things. But they mattered.

  "Safe travels," she said to Mazoga. "And when you reach Glasshold—make them listen."

  Mazoga's hand moved to her warhammer, fingers brushing the runes etched into its haft. "We will."

  Thank for Reading!

  Chapter 78 drops friday!