I think I must be getting more used to ridiculous, bullshit revelations happening in my life, because when Opalina tells me she’s an Elder Archsage all that comes to mind when I dwell on it is...

Right. That makes sense.

Why else would a simple healer not constantly be harassed by her thug clientele for cheaper prices, or worse? Because she could kill them without even thinking about it if she really wanted to, obviously. 

Opalina went on to explain how combat magic was never really her forte in the first place, and after the many years since she’s sworn off of it it means she can’t pull off any of the incredible offensive spells she used to be able to. Once again, the rule of magic seems to be ‘use it or lose it’. It’s like a muscle.

Opalina stressed that her condition is not the same as Zutiria’s mana circuit atrophy, which is when someone decides to stop using verbal magic altogether. In that case the natural flow of mana in a body becomes clogged because of the total rejection, the bottled up pressure hurts the mana flow.

In Opal’s case it’s more like she just hasn’t exercised that particular muscle in an extremely long time, any offensive spells she knows are long since weakened. While getting in shape is certainly an option, for whatever reason she firmly states that it’s not going to happen and I accept that.

She’s a healer now before anything else, and it would be rude to pry into a lady’s past so blatantly.

Hopefully the next Mage the Guild gets is a normal, well-adjusted person and doesn’t have a gigantic portion of their magical talent rendered unusable but... Knowing my luck, I just know that the next Mage I encounter is bound to have some sort of comical defect that will cause me no small amount of stress headaches... Mark my words.

The apparently not White Mage escorts me to the Shatterbrew Clan building. Even as we talk to ourselves about her past and her abilities, or at least what little she’s willing to share about these topics, my eyes are scanning for ‘the Duke’s’ men. I’m still not sure I believe in that particular boogeyman but Opalina’s right in that if the so-called Duke’s not real, then the threat is something real enough and the difference is negligible.

It’s a shame my supposed Goddess isn’t around to provide me with any answers.

...

No? Too desperate? How fucking inconvenient.

To my surprise I don’t pick up a single tailing rogue on the way to the Dwarves. I guess their message was sent plainly and they didn’t see any reason to keep stalking me any longer.

When we arrive at Shatterbrew’s, Opalina gives me a kiss goodbye and has me promise that I leave the building being escorted by my contractor. I feel a little babied at the suggestion, but I agree nonetheless... It’s not like I couldn’t use the protection.

Opalina heads off to find her friend Nikita and update her, while I head on inside the Dwarven workshop for the second time in two days. It’s not very busy today at all, and I’m able to pinpoint Thadmar’s wife once more.

It’s not like I specifically am hoping for a chance to see Gwinlinn yet again, or anything... It’s just that I’ve already dealt with Thadmar and found him very agreeable. His wife heads off to fetch him and to my surprise Gwinlinn follows after her stocky father this time.

I greet both the Dwarf and his busty firebrand of a daughter with a hearty handshake as is their custom, and at first he believes I’m here to deliver the first shipment of the Pinemen wood. I’m very sorry to have to let him down like this, but I explain all that’s happened since yesterday.

Dwarves are a genuine, honest people. They’re friendly, hard working, and if you manage to befriend one they will be the strongest and most dependable ally you will ever have. If I’m being honest, on average they’re generally much better people than humans tend to be. Until you cross them anyway... Just watch your shins and knees if you do.

So after I tell Thadmar and Gwinlinn about Meri, I’m not surprised that their answer is a sympathetic, “Ach, well thas’ fuckin’ shit now innit?”

I don’t mean to stereotype but... ah. Dwarves are so nice. This is so much better than dealing with psychopathic butchers, pervy village elders and potion addicts. Not only are they sympathetic but they actually ASK if there’s anything they can do to help, and even offer to come pick the wood up themselves.

Why can’t all of Dewhurst be like these good, kind Dwarves?

I cut straight to the heart of the matter. “I was actually wanting to know if you could make time to come build a new door today. I still wanted to wait till later on in the week, but... the current situation changed things. I also want to know the prices for your strongest protection enchantments.”

“Well, ah hope ya know even with that discount of yers we agreed on... our best enchantments would be Spellsongs an fuck me mum they aren’ cheap.” Thadmar says with brutal honesty.

“I was afraid you’d say that.” It’s here I make a mistake and laugh softly, saying, “I needed them, though. I have to protect myself from the Duke himself it seems.”

Rather than take my sarcasm at face value and laugh along, the Dwarf’s usually ruddy face goes pale and looks at me with severity. Gwinlinn doesn’t follow along, but her concern rises when she sees her father’s reaction to my statement.

“Lad. It breaks mah stony heart ta tell ya this, but ah don’ think we can proceed with our deal.”

Gwinlinn seems somehow more offended at this than I am. “Are ye fuckin’ fulla yasself ya granite shittin’ ol’ fuck?! You went’n shook with him!”

From nearby, Gwinlinn’s mother chimes in while she helps another customer, “DON’T YE DARE GO’N TALK TO YA FATHA’ LIKE THAT GWINNY!”

“FUCK OFF, NO WONDER OL’ DA PREFERS HIS ELF WHORES OVER YA, YA NAGGY OL’ CUNT!” Gwinlinn counters leaving both of her parents at an embarrassing loss of words. Meanwhile, relatives of theirs from all over the Dwarven showroom laugh at their humiliation. I get a sense that Gwinlinn is popular among her extended family.

I cough awkwardly in an attempt to draw the attention back towards me. “Thank you, Gwin. I appreciate it... but Thadmar, can I at least get some sort of reasoning for this?”

“Well ye’ said so yasself, ain’t likely anyone else’s doin’ but the Duke.”

“I was being sarcastic, Thadmar. The Duke’s not-”

His face is grave, solemn and shows no sign of budging. “He’s as real as Muzath Bluntboulder an’ his fabled Aldarrian Jewels, mind you. We don’t get involved in his business, an’ that’s that’. If ye really got yasself on his bad side then we can’t afford ta get mixed up in that. It’s nothin’ personal... it’s family.”

This is not a good outcome, and I have no way to make a Dwarf budge when it comes to protecting their family. I’m a decent enough businessman, but I’m not a god of speechcraft. It would be easier to get them these Dwarves to part with their yearly profit margins than to convince them to do something that might hurt their family.

“Can you at least fix the door? You’ve seen it, we don’t have any other doors in the building that same size that we can swap it with...” I plead to his sympathy. “You don’t even have to consider the negotiated discount. I’ll pay in full.”

Gwin watches her father’s face like a hawk, ready to claw his damn eyes out if he says no.

“Nah, lad.” Thadmar says with a deep and remorseful sigh. “Ah tol’ ya we can’t go n’-”

Gwinlinn punches her father square in his bulbous-y dwarf nose and sends the man hurtling backwards into some dwarven made desks that were further along the showroom. I’m almost impressed, for a single punch it sure caused a decent amount of property damage.

The feisty, red-headed Dwarf gal picks up a nearby toolbox filled with Dwarven woodworking utensils and straps on a utility belt, making her look rather badass for a carpenter I might say. Then, Gwinlinn grabs me by the hand and starts tugging me along much to the dismay of her father, who starts yelling after us.

“Don’ ya pay a single mind to em’, ah’ll fix yer shit up mahself if ah have ta.” She grumbles as I awkwardly follow her out of her home and back onto the dirtied streets of Dewhurst.

“Aren’t you going to get in a lot of trouble for this?”

Laughing incredulously, she looks me in the eyes. “Ya think ah righ’ly care?”

“Point well taken.” As the two of us share a brief smile, Gwin becomes painfully aware of the fact that in a heated moment she grabbed my hand and continues to hold onto me till this moment.

As soon as she realizes it her freckled cheeks blush red and she yanks away so hard that it near as well tore my arm from the shoulder.

“AY NOW! Don’ be gettin’ all frisky on me.” Gwinlinn says as she grumpily turns away.

Not sure why, but I’m feeling a bit playful and I decide to push my luck a bit with the Dwarf girl. Maybe it’s the stress... “Are you always this cute, or am I just lucky?”

Rather than blushing more, she just looks annoyed. “Fuck ya mean cute? Cute like a wee lil’ gal, righ? Since I’m so small?”

“No, cute as in like a woman.”

That seems to do the trick and I watch as her blush- and her anger- flares hotter than ever. To my surprise Gwinlinn readies one of her trademark Dwarven punches of domestic violence and rears it back to build momentum. I flinch ahead of time as it bursts through the air, but it suddenly stops and playfully taps me on the hip.

“No wonder ya need a fuck off huge bed, ya shameless gods damned flirt. Ya must got more game than Ruthic Mirthfucker, if ya know what I mean.” She laughs roughly and shakes her head.

I really need to buy some books on Dwarven history and folklore if I’m going to be spending more time around this race... the fact that they constantly bring up their vague and obscure folk heroes, deities and locations in idle conversation has caused me slight problems following along with them.

Not that it’s all that hard to take an educated guess as to what the adventures of Ruthic Mirthfucker entail, considering the context clues.

Gwinlinn and I share a pleasant walk filled with idle conversation. Most of it was apologizing about her family’s decision to no longer do business with me.

I ask if there’s a chance I could potentially discuss the situation with someone besides Thadmar, because since he’s a third generation artisan I don’t expect him to have THAT much say over the extended family’s business decisions.

Unfortunately, his daughter assures me that the rest of the Shatterbrew clan would say the same thing. Besides her, of course. Part of the reason they’re such a successful business is due to how like-minded they all are. They love woodworking, have similar values and business sentiments, again- besides Gwinlinn, of course.

She’s more than likely going to get in a lot of trouble for helping me out, but... even if I wanted to turn her away and reject her offer I get the distinct feeling that she would reject my rejection and do it anyway. It’s better to just consent to whatever help she wants to give me and not piss her off.

We reach the Guild and Gwinlinn sets to work immediately, going off into the storage room where I keep the Pinemen wood and moving enough of it to the front door entrance to begin her construction. I tell her I’ll return in a moment after checking in on my girls out back.

She laughs and shakes her head, mumbling something about Ruthic Mirthfucker and his many conquests or the like. Indeed.

Zutiria definitely isn’t back from her questing for the day yet but Sam and Meri are right where I left them, out back in the training yard. Only now since two hours have passed they’re absolutely covered in sweat and aching beyond belief.

I, ah... should probably have instructed that they take breaks every so often. I thought that was obvious, so I didn’t say anything but it looks like they haven’t stopped at all. In hindsight leaving things unsaid when Sam is involved is just asking to be misunderstood. When I approach them Sam is still running towards Meri’s shield and attacking it, while Meri is doing her best to avoid getting frightened. She has some good moments and she has some bad moments- times where she can take the impact with her shield and times she cowers.

One thing is for certain, though. No matter how afraid Meri is of being hurt... her commitment to improving is real. She doesn’t want to be like this. If she was happy with herself, Meri wouldn’t just stand there and let Sam attack her over and over again for almost two hours straight.

“Alright, that’s enough. Take a break.” I say as I clap to gain their attention. Both girls snap out of it as soon as they notice me and each one draws a long sigh of relief.

Sam drops her great sword sluggishly and Meri carefully leans her shield against a bench before plopping to the ground as well.

“Boss, what the fuck... even for me that was too much. My arms feel like they got snakes biting my muscles inside of them.”

“You were supposed to take breaks!”

“WELL TELL ME THAT NEXT TIME!” Sam whines and sits down next to Meri, putting her head in the armored maiden’s lap. Meri must be too tired to even blush about it because she silently accepts her new companion.

The poor girl is beyond tired, her face is red and she looks like she’s about to pass out from overheating.

“You should really get out of that armor, Meri...” I say with concern.

“You... you want me... to... strip... s-sir...?” She can’t even get all timid and over exaggerate her shyness with me right now. She’s too dog tired to even attempt it.

I sigh and sit down behind Meri, beginning to unbuckle some of the straps from her armor despite her meek protests. At most she wiggles sweatily and gasps out ‘nooo’. Well I’m sorry, Meri, but I’d rather you not die from heatstroke and if that means I need to take off your armor than so be it.

After a few more minutes of stripping- Sam helping me get the boots off- we’re left with a slightly less exhausted Shield Maiden wearing no armour but her black, protective gambeson and her equally black arming trousers. Still not ideal as it looks rather hot itself, but I’m not about to strip any more than this.

“T-Thank you... I needed that...” Meri pulls herself together and lays down on my lap as well, forming a chain since Sam continues to bury herself in the slightly chubby girl’s meaty thighs.

Looking down at her, it’s hard to ignore how beautiful the Shield Maiden really is in her own way. I know that it’s partially my mysterious benefactor’s fault that I see her the way I do, but it’s hard to ignore a red-faced, sweaty girl with a full-figured body laying on top of you with tired eyes and pouty lips. 

This is bad... she... there’s no denying it, she looks lewd as hell under these circumstances

I need to get out of here before I have an erection on the back of her head...

“We have a guest in the entrance hall. The Dwarf girl I told you about, Sam. She’s fixing the door. You think you can manage getting both of you upstairs and having a nap?”

Sam groans and stands up, bends down and hoists Meri over her shoulders. “Come on, you...” She says as she sighs and heads back inside while carrying her new friend.

Surprisingly this doesn’t freak out Meri and she only replies, “Thank you...”

After I bring Meri’s armor inside I return to Gwinlinn and unsurprisingly, the new door is already mostly done. Dwarves work speedily and efficiently, and compared to making jewelry or forging metal carpentry is a fast craft for a Dwarf. Even if Gwinlinn herself is uninterested she’s certainly still very skilled in the art.

The new door is the perfect size, but much bulkier and sturdier than it used to be. Needless to say it’s now got many Dwarven stylings and patterns, and even some runes. I can’t read their language so I don’t know what they say, but I’m sure it’s nothing that important and is just part of the package. There were runes on my bed as well, after all.

“Ah, ya made it jus’ in time. Got one more step ‘for we can finish it off proper.”

“It looks done to me, though. Don’t we just need to bolt it to the door frame now?”

Gwin sighs and stands up, leaning the door against the wall and looking at me with an annoyed but insistent expression. “The enchantments ya pebble brained, flirty fuck. Ya wanted the expensive spellsongs, did ye not?”