The mana-steel mine sat within a large, imposing, rust-red mountain about three hours out of town by donkey. A massive entrance had been carved into the stone, and scattered around the cave were various makeshift buildings, huts, and tents serving to house the non-human workforce. They were kobolds—small, lizard-like bipedal creatures with dusty scales, wearing rough leather aprons and jumpsuits. It seemed no one was working right now, likely on account of whatever was terrorizing them down in the darkness.

  There were also machines, to my surprise. Crown had been a primarily fantasy world, but it seemed the rules here were slightly different. There were air pumps sitting still, forges and bellows, and something that looked like a flashlight. Maybe they ran on mana? That would be something I’d have to find out when I had a chance. Comfort wasn’t high on my priority list—what with being an animated cylinder of steel—but if I ever found a way to get my human form back, I would definitely want light switches.

  I had Mug drive the cart to the largest of the makeshift buildings, an ugly metal cube with no doors. I told him before we made contact that I wanted him to handle the speaking as best he could. He knew the politics of this world better than I did, and the last thing I wanted was a social faux pas that could lead to a race war or another rebellion.

  'And make us sound impressive, too! I’m a spirit from the heavenly plains and you are my emissary! Stick your chest out, throw your head back! Don’t just try to disappear; we’re here to save the day! Be proud!' Mug gulped and nodded in agreement, though he didn’t appear all that confident.

  He stopped the cart and waited politely for someone to greet us. No one did. The kobolds looked at us with curiosity but made no move to approach. Maybe no one told them we were coming? Or did they expect an impressive, beautiful spirit and his handsome orc squire instead of a goblin in rags and a rather unimpressive trashcan? It was probably that. So, instead of a rush of appreciative kobolds praising our presence, we got… a big fat nothing. We waited. And waited. And then did a little more waiting.

  Mug stood at attention the entire time, big watery eyes forward and hands behind his back as he stood rigidly in place. The poor guy was trying so hard to look official, but it just made him look like a tiny, oddly shaped scarecrow. Eventually, he stood there long enough that someone must have felt either sorry for him or disturbed by him, because a kobold slightly larger than the rest exited the building to greet us.

  The kobold was green, standing roughly four feet tall instead of the three and a half of her companions, and wore leather overalls and a child-sized hard hat made of wood. Her tail flicked behind her impatiently, and her expression was so cutting it made Mug shrink down even lower to the ground—which I frankly didn’t think was possible. How did I know the kobold was a “her” instead of just another lizard person? Well, remember the origins of this world. It hadn't exactly been a highbrow concept, and it certainly didn't concern itself with questions like, "Why would a reptilian lifeform have breasts?" Fortunately, in this life, the proportions were less bombastic. I couldn’t have taken her seriously if she had been manga-accurate.

  “Lookin’ at a cart. Lookin’ at a gob. Lookin’ at a trashcan. No tools, no picks, no explanation. Explanation?” Her voice was raspy but not unpleasant. She had that aura only competent managers seem to master—one that demanded an answer just by existing. Mug coughed and pulled himself up to his full height, which was still shorter than hers.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “Introducing Master Lugenhelm! Spirit of the House of Freise! Savior of Princess Evelinda! Devourer of Filth! He does not eat goblins! I am Mug, servant of Prince Edvald, currently speaking as the voice and emi… emissa… squire of the Lugenhelm!”

  I was a trashcan, but I swear I could feel myself blushing. Mug, bless his heart, was doing his best to make us seem like real heroes instead of a waste bin and a runt. For her part, the kobold was completely unimpressed.

  “Huh. Got a royal bird sayin’ help was comin’ for the beast down mine. You two the help?” she asked, nodding at me and Mug. We were drawing a crowd now as the other workers gathered around to watch us get embarrassed by their boss. Mug was not deterred, though; I noticed him go up on his toes to give himself an extra inch.

  “We are not ‘the help’! We are a powerful, millennia-old spirit and his squire, sent on a royal mission by the King himself! I have seen the powers of the Lugenhelm myself, and there is nothing he cannot conquer! I think! So far I’ve just seen him eat a bunch of trash and shoot out papers and banana peels, but that is because he is saving his divine powers for now!”

  She gave a brief laugh, and the rest of her crew joined in. This was not going as I’d planned, but I realized this was probably the best I could have hoped for. Like it or not, the optics of me and Mug were not great.

  “Listen, gob. This real funny stuff. Good laughin’. But I got hunnert thirty-three scaly hides can’t mine. No mine, no money. No money, no food for families. Fun laughin’, but no more. We’ll wait for real help. Excuse me.”

  She turned to walk away, and I knew I had to act. Letting Mug handle this had been only slightly short of disastrous. I mentally ran through my list of objects I could make with Alchemical Recycling before settling on one and activating the mana within me.

  My lid opened, and a length of chain shot straight up, landing between myself and the kobold. She turned around slowly, eyeing me for the first time. She picked up the chain, running it through her claws with the look of a master appraising the work of an apprentice.

  “Good steel. Low impurities. Each link identical. Impressive craftin’. But! Don’t mean much. Got chains. Trashcan that makes chains don’t light my forge. Go home—”

  I cut off her appraisal by rapid-firing a few more items in succession: some nails, an apple, a metal visor, and a length of rope. She picked up and examined each item, sniffing and taking a bite of the apple before tossing the rest to a kobold behind her.

  “This your magic? Make stuff? Not bad. But! Useful for when minin’ or buildin’. We needin’ magic for fightin’. How shootin’ ropes and apples help beat a beast?”

  I understood her skepticism. I wasn't entirely sure how ropes and apples could stop whatever was halting their work either, but I had to make it work. I shot out a note, which she snatched out of the air and read aloud to the silent crowd.

  “His note sayin’: ‘I understand your skepticism, Madame Kobold. This form is quite unimpressive, to say the least. But I am here to help, and if you assist me and the goblin here, I think we can! I can do more than make ropes and apples! I can also do banana peels, haha! You might not get that joke—you had to be there—but please, give us a chance!’”

  She paused and thought for a moment, crumpling the note in her claws and tossing it back inside me. Mug had returned to his stiff “at attention” pose, and the rest of the kobolds were silent. Eventually, she came to a conclusion.

  “Not Madame Kobold. Foredrake Merri. Call me Madame Kobold again, throw you in forge. Assistin’ as needed. Do not make me speak to Gob again; not likin’ him. Come inside. Rest of you, find somethin’ useful to do! Sharpen pickaxe, repair gear, somethin’! Trashcan gonna get us back to workin’!”

  She shouted the last part, and the kobolds grumbled but dutifully dispersed. Mug seemed a little deflated that his first social situation as a squire had gone so poorly, but he still dutifully moved me from the cart. I decided to show off a little for the locals and used Polymorph 1 to manifest my basic legs, following Foredrake Merri inside—much to the kobolds' amusement.

  This would likely be a challenge from beginning to end, but I hoped that Mug and I were up to it.