“He’s a big beastie, Girlie,” Loket nods, “A bit tall and leggy for my taste, but he seems to suit you.”
“I prefer my horses to have longer legs so that they can go faster,” Emlyn grins, “Since I don’t fall off, I don’t mind him being so far from the ground.”
Loket palms his face as everyone else laughs. “Fall off a horse one time – ONE – and this is what you get from this lot,” Loket says to Kethas. “
It wasn’t so much that you fell off,” Gramin laughs, “It was what you landed in. None of us could stand the smell of you for almost a month.”
Atres pushes the inn door open and hears voices, so he heads toward them. He finds Emlyn atop Jagannath and reaches up to scratch between his ears.
“After we eat, we’re taking your boyo to get some kit,” Loket informs Emlyn, “It won’t be ready for a bit, but we’ll find someone and get them started making it.”
Vorlig turns to face Atres and studies him closely. Atres gets the impression that he’s being weighed and measured in ways he’s not entirely comfortable with.
After a long moment, Vorlig seems to come to a decision. “Take him to that Granite Fall smith in the market, if he’s still there,” Vorlig nods.
“We’ll go find out if he is,” Loket agrees.
After breakfast, the groups split up. Otrin heads back to the Clan Rune Axe Taig with Emlyn’s saddle bag. Benger and Emlyn head off to the saddle makers. Loket, Gramin, and Vorlig head to the market to find the smith from Clan Granite Fall with Atres in tow.
Once they’re away from the inn, Loket gives Atres an appraising look.
“Alright, boyo,” Loket says, “Our Girlie’s not here. This is just us men talking. Why don’t you tell us why Benger’s mother is so worried about you being around Girlie?”
“Straight to it then,” Atres grimaces, “I don’t know how much you understand about the dragon blooded, so forgive me if I’m repeating things you know. When I didn’t react at all to any of those girls, after visiting a half-dozen or so clan-holds and being around dozens of unbonded girls that weren’t my kin, I thought my ability to bond was broken, gone forever. I was certain that I’d never have a mate. Since conception, with us, without some magical intervention, is nearly impossible, lots of women seek dragon-blooded men out for a bit of low-risk fun. Looking like I do, I got more than my share of them. I didn’t see any reason, at the time, to turn them away since I was sure that’s all that there would ever be. It wasn’t that I pursued them, quite the opposite, in fact. As a result, I’ve got more than a bit of a reputation.”
“There has to be more to it than that,” Gramin frowns.
“Oja’s worried that I’ll take advantage of Fy lleidr bach’s innocence,” Atres shrugs, “I understand her concerns. There’s a difference in our ages, and there are many differences in our levels of experience. Lots of men might try something like that.”
“But not you?” Loket asks.
“Never,” Atres replies firmly, “I’ve promised, among other things, to wait. If she’s going to trust me, trust any promises I make in the future, I must keep this first promise. She’s well worth waiting for.”
“Why do you call her your little thief?” Gramin asks.
“I thought that was obvious,” Atres laughs, “She’s already stolen my heart. I have one thousand seventy-six days left to steal hers.”
“What else have you promised her?” Loket asks.
“If I step over any of her lines, she’ll tell me, and I’ll respect them. Having a chaperone seems to set her more at ease. Since that seems to be one of her lines, I’ll respect it. I’ve promised her that she’s safe with me.”
“Hmm,” Loket considers this before proceeding, “Girlie seems to be quite fond of you. Why is that?”
“I’m not sure,” Atres shrugs, “She says she can sense a hum of power from me that’s similar to what she’d be able to sense from one of her own people. I know she told me that I was quite to her liking. I know that she’s checked my motives a few times. I suspect that’s why. I don’t care if she’s broke or rich. In truth, all that jewelry frightened me a bit because I was worried that she’d set me aside. I don’t care that, aside from you, she’s got no family. I’ll be her family. I’ll share my family with her. We’ll make a new family. Whatever makes her happy. I don’t care that she’s a paladin. I’ll do my best to give her the same honesty she gives me. I don’t care that she is young, and I’ll have to wait. She’s worth waiting for. If I have to defend my right to keep her, I’ll do it. I’m dragon-blooded; we expect to fight to get our mates. We train for it from the time we’re small. I don’t care for any of the rest of it, except for her. None of the rest of it really matters. Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it as long as she’s there at the end of it.”
A significant look passes between Gramin, Loket, and Vorlig.
“Let’s find you some decent kit,” Gramin nods, “Once it’s made, we can start teaching you how to move in it.”
“Fair warning,” Loket grins, “You’re going to have to start eating a lot more once we start training you. Depending on how hard we go at it, it might even be double what you’re eating now, maybe a bit more. If you don’t eat properly, you’ll do yourself more harm than help.”
Nodding, Atres agrees.
“I have a question for all of you. What’s the difference between a smith and an artificer?” Atres asks, “I’m not really sure what an artificer is.”
“Now that, boyo, is a deep and interesting question,” Gramin grins, “Smiths can make just about anything that can be made from metal. Dwarven smiths in particular can forge or hammer out most anything that can be forged or hammered. Artificers… Now… Artificers are another story entirely. Artificers can build your heart’s desire for you, if you have gold enough to get them to do it. The things that they make often have quite a lot of magic infused into them. They’re not always made of metal, either. I saw them make some wooden paneling once. It was carved like a forest. The trees changed with the seasons, and birds and other animals came and went. Some king ordered it as a wedding present for his wife.”
“They make things like lamps that don’t need fuel,” Loket adds, “I saw a music box once that was a bird that flew around the room and sang.”
“I saw them make a harness to let a man walk again,” Vorlig adds. “He took a spear to the spine. It took him a bit to get used to it, but it worked. They make weapons and other things, too.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“They do, from time to time,” Loket agrees, “Most of those have a return spell added to them these days. If the owner is no more or isn’t in possession of them any longer, they will return to the Taig. The artificers learned the hard way that allowing powerful objects into the world means that those objects can be taken from the person they were made for and used against the artificers themselves.”
“I can see where they might want to take steps to protect themselves from that,” Atres agrees.
“The weapons and armor they make often have some interesting properties,” Gramin nods. “Get Loket to show you his axe sometime. That’s a bit of our artificers’ handiwork. They’ve improved on it since, once or twice, when Loket could afford their fees.”
“There’s not much I can’t mince up with this lovely,” Loket grins and pats the haft of the axe. “Might even be able to get a chunk or two out of this Divaros, if it comes to that.”
They reach a section of the market dedicated mainly to metalworkers, and Vorlig begins scanning the stalls. Spotting the shop he’s looking for, he signals to the others to follow. The smith is short and stocky, even by dwarven standards, but muscular from working at the forge.
He looks up and mutters a curse. “Lads, my apologies, but I don’t have time today for the usual greetings. My apprentice is out, and I have orders that must go out today. Maybe come back tomorrow?”
After glancing around the shop briefly, Vorlig shrugs. “Maybe we help you, then you can help us?”
Jorbak leans back and studies them for a moment before nodding. “That’ll do.”
As lunchtime approaches and the last of the orders leave the shop, Jorbak looks at the men. “We’ve been working metal together for half the day. I think we’re well past the point of greetings. Why don’t you come to the tavern with me, and you can tell me what you need over some lunch?”
“Fair enough,” Loket agrees.
Heading across the street, Jorbak leads them into a tavern, and Gramin sniffs and grins, “Proper dwarven food. You let us order for you, boyo. We’ll get you something you can eat.”
“Our bread,” Loket grins, “isn’t something you humans can eat. You can sharpen it up into a pretty good weapon, though. We eat a lot of things, like lichens, that grow without sun. If you don’t get a taste for it when you’re a tot, you never do. Even a lot of topside dwarves, ones born and raised above ground, won’t touch the stuff.”
Atres nods and shrugs in agreement.
Once the food is ordered, Jorbak looks at the four men. “How is it that I’m sitting here with one of the King’s Guard and three of the Clan Fathers of Clan Rune Axe?”
“Now that’s quite a story,” Loket grins, “but mostly not mine to tell. Suffice it to say that boyo here is in hot pursuit of a forge-daughter of ours, and she’s asked us to help him out a bit. We’ve got to get him into some better kit than… well… whatever that is.”
Loket waves a dismissive hand at Atres’s King’s Guard leathers, “He needs something a bit less expensive than what our Girlie really wants while he develops some preferences in his kit. Since he’s got to learn to use proper kit, we said we’d get him kitted out.”
“I make good kit and it’s not cheap,” Jorbak frowns, “It certainly won’t be cheap for a lummox his size.”
“It’s a good bit cheaper than what our Girlie really wants,” Gramin grins, “since she wants to let our artificers have a go at making him some.”
Mollified, Jorbak nods, “I suppose I can see that.”
“We know you make good kit,” Loket grins, “That’s why we’re here.”
“What does that great lummox want with a dwarven girl?” Jorbak asks.
“She’s not,” Gramin replies.
When no more information is forthcoming, Jorbak shrugs, “This might be one of the oddest commissions I’ve picked up recently, but work is work. Local steel or imported?”
“Imported,” Loket replies, “The local stuff is crap. We can get you the ingots, if that helps.”
“Could you pay me in ingots?” Jorbak asks.
“Maybe,” Gramin replies, “We have to trade with another clan for them, so it’ll depend on how many and how quickly. We might have enough in storage, and we might not.”
“Let’s eat,” Jorbak shrugs, “I’ll need to measure him to see how many ingots I’ll need for his kit, and we can go from there.”
“Fair enough,” Loket grins.
After the meal, they head back to Jorbak’s shop, where he starts measuring Atres in far more ways than a tailor ever would, and finally, all the measuring is done. Jorbak starts calculating the ingots and negotiating with Loket and Gramin for payment in ingots for the work. When that’s done, the group is headed back to the inn.
“Aside from your gift, what made you think you wanted to chase after our Girlie?” Loket asks.
“She’s just adorable,” Atres grins, “She’s unbelievably enchanting. She blushes and then gets quite shy. Just… Ahh… She steals a bit more of my heart every time she does it.”
“Adorable, enchanting, and shy aren’t words that I think I’ve ever heard anyone use about our Girlie,” Gramin shakes his head.
“So I’ve been told,” Atres shrugs, still grinning, “I was told that I might be the only man alive who thinks she’s adorable. I suspect that it’s a side of her that not many get to see. It’s my privilege to get to see it. I have a question for you.”
Loket nods and gestures for him to ask.
“When you said she was ‘our forge-daughter’, did you mean all of you are now her fathers? As in adopted?” Atres asks.
Smirking for a second, Gramin nods, “That’s exactly what we mean. All four of us made agreements with her Mama to take some of the children and any surviving siblings. In Otrin’s case, his agreement was specifically for Girlie.”
“That’s definitely an improvement over having her asshat of a sire stuck in a sword,” Atres nods, “In that case, I’m glad you’re here.”
“I begin to see why Girlie likes you,” Loket grins, “You’re smart, you pay attention, and you ask good questions.”
With everyone out of the inn, Kethas grabs his keys, scratches out a note saying that he’ll be back soon, and locks up. A short time later, Amalie hears a knock at the door and opens it to find Kethas.
“Ember’s in the kitchen having breakfast,” Amalie sighs, “Go on back.”
Nodding, Kethas steps inside, “I wouldn’t bother, but it might be important.”
“What are you two up to now?” Amalie grins, “If whatever it is drug you away from that inn, it must be important.”
Kethas steps into the kitchen and finds Ember dealing with more paperwork and the remains of a lukewarm breakfast.
“She’s having nightmares,” Kethas says without preamble, “That came out last night. I don’t know if Benger’s had a chance to report it to you yet. She’s talking in her sleep, but no one can understand what she’s saying.”
“You think some of it might be leaking out, then?” Ember asks, and Kethas nods.
“Some men showed up, dwarves in full battle gear,” Kethas explains, “She knows them. They spent half the night telling stories about her from the time she was learning to walk to going into battle with her. They seem intent on claiming kin-right with her, but I haven’t heard them say so outright, yet. You’ll probably want to swing by and meet them.”
“What’s with the battle gear?” Ember asks, “Is there some trouble I need to come settle?”
“Nothing like that,” Kethas laughs, “They came in battle gear because they called her a lode stone for trouble and said they didn’t know what they’d be walking into when they found her. One of them said he’s sending for his daughter since the girl speaks Cymry. Maybe she’ll be able to tell us what our girl is on about in her sleep.”
“I’ll pull her back as much as I can,” Ember nods, “I don’t think I can pull her out completely. I don’t think she’ll let me, even though I ought to do it. Once we find out what’s bothering her, we’ll know better how to handle it. If I have to, I can see if the Goddess herself can do anything.”
“Keep delaying,” Kethas advises, “I wouldn’t send anyone into a battle with anything more challenging than a large dog in her condition. Maybe get your Goddess to put her divine foot down with the duke and send a different cohort or something if the situation warrants it.”
Ember nods in agreement, and Kethas claps him on the shoulder, “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Ember bows his head and begins to pray. “Mighty Morrighu. Your daughter is in some difficulty and may not be fit to send out against this Divaros, whatever it is. She is having nightmares that bring her out of her sleep, ready to defend herself. She speaks in her sleep in her own language. Her father has been reprehensible to her, blaming her for everything that’s happened – the loss of her people, her family, her friends, all of it. He’s been saying the most horrible things to her – that her reputation is ruined, that she’s dishonored her House, that she’s damaged goods and no man will want her.”
“I… see,” the Goddess responds, “I can try to peek into her dreams to see what troubles her so, but I’ll likely need Gethin’s help to interpret them. As for her father, if he continues in this, he will face my wrath for his unfounded words. It took the entire pantheon, but we dismantled that asshat’s afterlife. I saw with my own eyes what he was doing with the souls he’d tricked into worshiping him.”
“I’d have taken the blade from her, but Atres’s premonition about that was most… dire. Something worse than dead were his exact words,” Ember explains.
“Then I will have to see what I can do about rectifying his behavior,” the Goddess replies, “and perhaps have a chat or two with Atres.”
Want to binge the future? > I have months of backlog for Order of the Storm Crow waiting for you. Get 50+ chapters ahead of Royal Road today!
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Current Count: 25 "Promises to Wait" and 1 "Extreme Wardrobe Upgrade."
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Observation: "Atres is laying it on thick with the 'I’ll wait 1,076 days' routine. He told the dwarves that Nia is 'adorable, enchanting, and shy.' Gramin nearly choked! Nobody calls a woman who can kill you with a shoe 'adorable' unless they’re well and truly gone. He’s also getting measured by a dwarven smith named Jorbak. If Atres starts wearing proper dwarven steel, I’m going to have to start wearing a codpiece made of solid diamonds just to compete for attention."
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Official Entry: Commission for one set of heavy plate armor; client: Atres of Clan Valkis; payment: Dwarven Ingots.
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Boltir’s Correction: "ANNOTATED: 'One set of training wheels for the King's Guard.' I’ve added a clause that if Atres falls in the mud again while wearing this, the armor is legally required to make a loud 'HONK' sound to alert the local Skalds. Also, I’ve drawn a very small, very sad dragon on the greaves. It’s a metaphor for his current romantic progress."
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Current Jar Total: 150 coppers, a lump of coal, and a very shiny button.
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Boltir’s Plea: "Did you hear that? The dwarves are calling themselves Nia’s 'fathers' now. Great. Just what she needs—four more people to tell me to get lost! Atres is actually asking smart questions about the difference between smiths and artificers. He’s learning! This is a disaster for my 'Boltir is the smartest dwarf in the room' brand. Toss a coin in the jar, kin! I’m saving up for a 'Potion of Intellectual Superiority.' Also, leave a review if you think Atres is going to double his food intake just to survive the training. I hope he likes lichen bread—it’s basically edible gravel! "