Jotan's Stories: QM busy counting fobbles

This was a story I originally published under the name Jotan on tumblr back in the '10s.

"How did you kill it?"

"Simple. I cut off its head," I told knight. He frowned and glance back to the monster's corpse.

"Which part is the head?" he asked.

I chuckled and pointed to one of the lumps of grey flesh. "The head is always the bit with those slanted cuts. Probably their eye-holes or something."

"Damned bugbears," he muttered. "Still, steader, that was good work. It could have killed a lot of people. I regret that the Crown's protection was insufficient here, but I will see to it that you receive a reward. Good day," the knight said. He remounted his horse and rode back to his garrison.

I snorted. The Crown could keep its protection, and its gold. We had never asked the Kingdom of Eran for anything, but they'd decided that our freehold ought to be included in their borders one day. Two dozen soldiers has shown up and claimed they would protect our caravans from bandits and our farms from wolves, but from what I'd seen so far, they wouldn't be able to protect a chamber pot from piss.

"Bet they'll reward you with coin instead of anything useful," said Neil. "So, I suppose I best be finding you an actual reward for protecting my flock from the bastard."

"It's fine," I replied. "Nothing more than you would have done for anybody else if you had a spear handy."

"A spear handy and maybe twenty years younger, lad," he said, shaking his head at my modesty. "If you hadn't happened along, I'd have lost the sheep or perhaps even my life. So no, it's not fine. I'll send my sons over later with some salt pork and wood for a replacement spear. It's the least we can do," Niel said.

I bowed my head in thanks. Neil returned the bow and we said our goodbyes as I headed down the road, towards the soldiers' barracks. I was running nearly an hour behind schedule now, thanks to the bugbear and the useless 'report' I made to the knight who'd come upon the situation. What I needed to do was see if any of these King's men needed the services of a smith. That was my profession, and the steaders barely had enough work for me to get by in recent years.

By the time I reached their makeshift garrison, the sun had already reached its apex. Two men stood at the gate of a wooden palisade. They crossed their spears as I approached.

"Halt, steader. What is your business here?" asked one of the knights. His visor was down, so his voice was muffled and I couldn't see his face. I hated that; you ought be able to look a man in the eye when you're talking to him.

"I'm Thomson, the smith. I'd like to speak to your commander," I explained.

"'Bout what?" challenged the other knight. "More complaints about our patrols?"

I didn't like his tone. I put my hands up and waved his concerns off. "Nothing of the sort! I'm here for trade. I can shoe horses, repair weapons, provide tools..." I explained.

"I'm afraid you'll have to come back tomorrow, steader," the first knight said. "The captain is here, but it's the quartermaster you need to speak to, and he's quite busy today."

Sighing, I nodded my head in thanks and headed home. I still had a a dozen sickles to forge for the harvest.