Karl leaned back in his comfortable leather chair, the soft hum of the office ventilation a stark contrast to the distant, raucous sounds of the industrial activity outside the 7th floor. He steepled his fingers, a satisfied, calculated smile playing on his lips. The meeting with the Kobold elders had concluded moments ago, and the sheer cultural gap between their thinking and his was still providing him with material for internal amusement.

He recalled Elder Lamna, the respected village elder, and Orkell, Orkesh's tall elder brother. Lamna's face, usually wrinkled with ancient authority, was marked by genuine relief, yet also deep-seated shame for their previous stubbornness.

"We are truly thankful for your help and for the immediate shelter of our people, Mr. Karl," Elder Lamna had said, her voice weighted with regret. "It is truly unfortunate we only believed Orkesh, Mina, and the others after our people started getting sick. If it were not for your warnings, we might not know what worse could have happened to us." The memory of the sick, feverish villagers was a heavy burden on her conscience.

Karl had offered a polite, casual wave. "The honor's all mine, Elder Lamna. I'm just glad everyone is safe. You acted decisively when it counted, and that's what matters."

Lamna sighed, the breath rustling her coarse fur. "As for your help, we might not be able to pay it back soon enough. Our people arrived here with nothing but the clothes on their backs and we rationed little food we have left."

"No, no, it's alright. I'm not gonna force anyone to pay it back soon. I understand your current situation very well," Karl assured her, his eyes focused on the long-term benefits of this relationship.

Lamna continued, explaining their flight from the Orks and their ill-fated choice of a new home. "We truly believed we had found a perfect place in the Dark Forest for our people to settle. Many might believe that the forest is haunted with evil spirits; I personally believed that the forest protects itself from outsiders. Maybe we're not just that worthy yet. Hence why we got sick." She lowered her eyes, convinced the sickness was divine retribution for trespassing.

Karl mentally cataloged the terminology: 'haunted,' 'spirit,' 'curse,' 'worthiness.' He realized the fundamental obstacle Orkesh and Mina faced when trying to convince their people to leave the Dark Forest. It wasn't logic or lack of evidence; it was hard-wired belief. To the Kobolds, the invisible sickness from the sulfur smog could only be explained through mysticism. It was the same logic that governed Earth's Middle Ages: if you can't explain something you can't see, you create a deity or a spirit the people will understand. This deep-seated traditionalism meant that any suggestion of invisible gases or particulate matter would be dismissed out of hand as fanciful nonsense.

He knew he couldn't beat their beliefs, so he had to reframe them using an analogy they understood—one that acknowledged the spiritual presence while stripping away the malicious intent.

"I personally believe that the Dark Forest spirits themselves just don't know they are harming anyone," Karl interjected gently, his words immediately perking up the listening Kobolds, including Orkell, who was leaning on the doorway. This explanation allowed the Kobolds to retain their spiritual beliefs while accepting a different interpretation of the problem.

"The spirits themselves don't know that you lived in their territory," Karl continued, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "It doesn't curse anyone with illness just because you stepped in the Dark Forest. The spirits' natural aura just made people sick in one way or another, or perhaps it's something they made in order for them to be able to make the forest their natural habitat." He stressed that the harm was an unintentional consequence, not an act of malice.

Lamna looked utterly confused. "What does that mean, Mr. Karl?"

Karl leaned forward. "Well, take this as an example: fish can't live on land, and land animals and us can't live deep in the ocean, right? The ocean doesn't curse the land animals; it simply has conditions they cannot survive."

Lamna nodded slowly.

"That's the same with the spirits," Karl added. "They can't live on our natural habitat. Their very existence requires certain conditions—like the fog and clouds. It is something they can't control, therefore, it is not a curse. It is just different."

Lamna's eyes widened in realization. "Then, you're saying that the fog and clouds that made people sick in the Dark Forest is something they need in order to live or exist?"

"Simply, yes," Karl affirmed. "It is a side effect, not a punishment. If we respect their natural habitat, we can simply adapt to it without offending them."

Orkell straightened up, his brow furrowed in thought. "So does that mean, we can live or visit the Dark Forest anytime without worrying about curses if we just do something about the fog and cloud?" This was the crucial point for their livelihood.

"Yes, basically," Karl smiled. "The problem is environmental, not spiritual."

"We were worried that we might not be able to mine the yellow stone chunks and sell it to you," Orkell admitted, a tone of desperation entering his voice. "It was our only source of income. My people depend on that gold for vital supplies. But I guess we just need to do something about the fog." The interruption of their mining activities had threatened to collapse their entire fragile economy.

"Well, that's not a problem at all," Karl said, his smile widening into a genuinely excited business grin. Orkell and Lamna leaned in, anticipation replacing fear. "I have an offer for you. We can make a device, a mask, in order for you to be able to visit the Dark Forest without any negative effects. As well as proper clothing to protect your skin under your furs from the rashes of the fog." This was the technology that would solve their existential crisis.

Orkell was confused. "What does this device do exactly?"

"This mask is part of a device that gives you natural air in which you can breathe," Karl explained patiently. "It's made of a hybrid ceramic enclosure that protects your face from the negative effects. It's light, durable, and uses a self-contained filter system. We call it the 'Survival Breathing Unit.'"

Orkell's eyes slightly widened. "There's something like that? It sounds like magic."

"Well yes, it is," Karl confirmed. "Not only that, we can also provide you with a much better wagon. Large enough to gather as many stones as you can, but light enough for your beasts to pull. Also, we can provide your beasts with masks, too, to avoid negative effects." Protecting the beasts was critical, as they were the main source of locomotion and power for the Kobold society.

Orkell's initial excitement faded slightly. "Although that's good, Mr. Karl, we have nothing at the moment. We have no silver left. How can we afford such technology?"

Karl scoffed. "Well, it's a loan. You can pay me back later, when you have enough money. The only condition is that you sell the yellow stone chunks exclusively to me until the debt is cleared. That gives me a guaranteed supply, and it gives you time to rebuild."

Orkell and Lamna looked utterly stunned at the scope of the offer. "Really? You would do that?"

Orkell then posed the crucial question, his voice hesitant due to the ingrained fear of predatory lending: "But what about interest? From what I heard about Ramaris merchants, they accept loans with 60% interest after four months. We've seen entire villages bankrupted by that. I don't think we can cover 60% per four months."

Karl scoffed, genuinely amused by the Ramaris' predatory business model. "Sixty percent is daylight robbery. That's how you choke out a partner. Now I get why your kind hates the goats so much. Instead, how about ten percent per year? Simple interest, calculated annually."

"Really?! That's way too generous!" the Kobolds exclaimed in unison, relief washing over them. This was less than a standard landlord's fee.

"Well, my business strategy is something of a mutual benefit and relationship building," Karl said, tapping the floor. "I believe we benefit from each other in a lot of ways. I need the raw materials, and you need the safety and stability to generate them. It's an investment in our future relationship." He was securing loyalty and resources, turning desperate refugees into a stable, dependent economic partner.

Lamna was near tears, the burden of their recent displacement finally lifting. "Thank you, Mr. Karl. Thank you. You have saved us twice over."

Karl smiled, knowing he had secured a lifetime supply chain and a loyal workforce for a minimal investment. "The pleasure is mine. Also, if you're interested, the land further to the east," he gestured vaguely toward the sprawling, undeveloped territory near the border fences, "you can make that into your farmland. It's up to you to consume your harvest or sell it to me. Self-sufficiency is always smart."

The other Kobolds listening in the hallway were visibly relieved at the prospect of regaining their self-determination and food security. Lamna smiled brightly.

"Additionally, if there are others who don't like mining or farming, we have some jobs available right now," Karl offered.

A female Kobold standing near Orkell spoke up nervously. "Really?! Like what?"

Karl nodded. "Yes. I'm not forcing you to work for me, but at the moment, we desperately need carpenters and laborers for a huge project. We're building massive infrastructure. And our own military is recruiting, which is always an option for those seeking discipline and protection. That's what's available right now. Once the commercial zone has finished construction, I might employ salesladies, salesmen, logistics staff, and warehouse managers."

Lamna's eyes gleamed with insight. "Commercial? Mr. Karl, are you perhaps building a town?"

Karl smiled broadly. "Well, if that's what you call it. A city, perhaps."

The Kobolds erupted in quiet, respectful celebration. They would become the first pioneers of a commercial town, living near the legendary Necro-Mall, known for its revolutionary products and communal hub. The stories of Mina's permanent employment and her one gold per month salary—enough to purchase a year's supply of grain, or a decent sword—had already spread like a powerful promise.

Even if they weren't expert carpenters, even if they were mostly females, the guarantee of permanent, rewarding labor and a stable salary was a revolutionary opportunity in their harsh world. The prospect of stable, day-after-day employment that led to real wealth was a foreign, intoxicating concept.

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