On a dark and dusty path far in the shadow of Brionin’s Wall, a lonely being padded along the path.

 

The Great Plateau of the Arguin loomed above like jagged clouds, at least three farleaps above the surrounding land. It was not a natural formation, as all dwarves knew, but a great construct from the Age of Mountains, but that made it no less breathtaking. 

 

Water from the Great Plateau roared down from untold heights, thundering down like cannonballs onto the plains below. Each droplet another piece of the barrage that pummelled deep holes and pits into the planet. Great walls of mist erupted like smoke from a volcano to saturate the air, and the land below was hidden in its depths.

 

The Mountains of Mornamel came from far off to meet the great cliffs, themselves stretching an impressive farleap into the air from the plains of Falia and Tresti beyond., but that was nothing in comparison to the cliffs. The climate was warmer in the lowlands, and the alpine forests that covered the mountains were green instead of white. Still, stone paths and bridges crossed those old mountains, each one uniting the last peak with the next. They were old and in disrepair, but still walkable despite the warnings of the sentinels of the cliff roads behind. 

 

It was on these paths that a stout man clad in blue and grey plodded along. A runed longsword lay across his back, and a deep satchell lay on his hip. He was noble in stature, and confident in step as he marched across the crumbling stones.  A blue hood covered his face, as well as a great black beard bound with silver locks. He had thick eyebrows of the same colour as his beard, and he could be described as fierce to the casual observer.

 

He hummed a merry song about old stones as he walked, idly avoiding the various holes that had opened up to reveal the deep mist-bound vales far below. 

 

Nor was there any reason for him to worry. The sentinels had warned and blocked, pleaded and sighed, but the dwarf had no fear within him for the lands ahead.

 

How could he? What kind of being could leave the light of the Star’s mountains to travel in lands dangerous? Who could plod along such horrific paths with such a heavy load without a care for the agents of the Gryphon?

 

Well, he was a dwarf.

 

Long had he travelled now, though it wasn’t often that wasn’t the case. Before he’d left Norrin, he’d visited his brother in Morvechi, and before that he seen his good friend Mazeril in the Farscapes, and even before that he’d travelled to the Empty Holds in the Deadwood. It was all such a great pain, moving from place to place, but Rknor didn’t mind it. His kin might’ve grumbled about sleeping on tough dirt and suffering through blistering snow, but Rknor had grown tired of that life long ago. Almost a century ago, in fact. And so he travelled through rain and snow, through wind and storm, to hearth and home.

 

It was a simple life. But one he enjoyed greatly. You never met as many people or found many interesting stories when you stood in one place, and the world had always struck him as too large and beautiful to stare at the same hill for eternity. He had never heard his second cousin Yfern tell any stories of the beasts he’s slain, or the people he helped, or the strange festivals he experienced. No, all the stories Yfern told were of troublesome tax collectors or insulting relatives. And that was all Rknor had told of before he’d left as well, before he’d discovered a love for the road.

 

But despite his cheer, Rknor hurried along. Which meant he plodded all the more faster, almost to the speed of a speedy walk, if not maybe a very slow jog. 

 

For the boat ride over the Arguin and the trip down had taken far longer than he would’ve hoped. Each and every person he had met had attempted to persuade him against his quest, though really to call it a ‘quest’ would be a touch too much. All he wanted to do was visit his cousins after all.

 

The climb had been a peril of bureaucracy as well, though Rknor could understand that. Long had the peoples of the lowlands tried to force themselves up into Lmere, and long had they fought them back. There was no shortage of birdmen, gryphons, and demons to be found in the East and North, Rknor of all people could attest to that. 

 

And yet, that was not all there was.

 

Ahead of him, smoke drifted up from the land ahead between the peaks. It was hard to see in the shadow cast by the Great Plateau, but Rknor’s eyes were slick as silver after so many long years. 

 

The sure sign of a village ahead. One the Lmeri most definitely didn’t know about, though they never did bother to ask. It was easier to think civilization didn’t exist beyond the mountains, if Rknor would hazard a guess.

 

But a village also meant a roof, and though Rknor liked the open road there was no substitute for a warm bed.

…

“Name?”

 

“Rknor, of course.”

 

The man looked at him with a slight smile, the same one that every human unconsciously gave when they saw a dwarf. Rknor was used to it by now, though it had never really bothered him to begin with. A smile was never a bad thing to see, in his opinion.

 

“Purpose of visit?”

 

“Of this village? Just visiting, I suppose.” Rknor stroked his beard. “But then I move to Kazerizz. Why, I’m already itching to move on, if you’re worrying of vagrancy.”

 

The guard laughed.

 

“Of course not, Master Dwarf! I’ve never known your kind to be of that type. I just like asking questions. You don’t get many visitors this far south.”

 

“Pub tales then?” Rknor chuckled. “I’m afraid those are mine to tell, once I find the pub myself.”

 

“Then come on in! Pub’s centre of town, though I’m afraid we don’t have an inn hereabouts. You’ll have to ask around for a bed, though I don’t suppose many would refuse you.”

 

“That’s fine about me.” Rknor hesitated before he went in. “No entrance fee then?”

 

The guard blinked.

 

“An entrance fee? Wouldn’t that be robbery?”

 

“Ah, don’t mention it.”

 

“Then you’re welcome in! Ah, and don’t mind Leo.”

 

With a merry chuckle, the dwarf stepped past the dilapidated gate. 

 

Though he had to wonder just what ‘Leo’ did to earn such a warning.

 

The village was a small and quaint place, nestled between peaks as it was. It was cool and dark in the shade of the Great Plateau, but it was not for a lack of effort from the villagers there. The stacked bubbly stones of the sloping roofs and walls were painted in bright colours and lit with old oil-burning lanterns. Each house seemed thicker on the north side, and each had a stone chimney that belched out the savoury scents of simmering roots. It was built with three roads that met in the middle, each one branching off with houses and gardens on either side of it. A pub, the only building with more than a single story, sat in the middle with the sounds of merrymaking wafting outside.

 

But strangely, a single man stood outside the pub, the only one who didn’t look content in the whole lot of them. He wore robes of red and white, a far cry from the more muted work clothes everyone around him wore. And he was shouting at the top of his lungs.

 

“The Star grants you mercy! If only you’d see it before your poor, bllind eyes! Know the severity of your sins! You will languish in darkness if you don’t see! Verol only wants peace! But if you don’t know the…”

 

People ignored him as they walked to and fro, each one regarding him much as they would a bench or wall. Just something that they were used to at this point. For his part, the man seemed to do the same. He just shouted as if he were a broken record doomed to repeat the same accompaniment for all eternity.

 

That must get tiring, shouldn’t it? Rknor thought. To be shouted at all day? I wonder why a Veroline even came here.

 

His curiosity overtaking him, Rknor approached the preacher. The man’s face lit up as he noticed him, and he raised his hands in greeting.

 

“Master Dwarf! Oh, what sweet succour you bring! I’d begun to believe nothing wholesome could sprout in these lands.”

 

“Luck and light.” Rknor raised his gauntleted hand in greeting as he stopped in front of him.

 

“Indeed, luck and light.” The priest seemed to savour the words, as if he hadn’t heard them for a long time. “

 

“Father, might I ask what brought you to these lands? You must know that the stories of the Star don’t reach as far as you might hope beyond the Lmeri.”

 

It was incredibly pervasive up on the Plateau, of course, almost inseparable from Lmeri culture and just slightly less important for the dwarves. But here in the lowlands, the shadows seemed to reach longer  and the stars less bright. When Rknor had attempted to visit the hold of Azhnor he hadn’t met even a single human who’d even spoken of the Everstar, let alone praised it. And the same was equally true of those in Falia in the current era.

 

“That’s what I’m trying to change.” The preacher sighed. “My foolish Brothers don’t care for it, but it has never seemed right to me that we should let so many of these lesser peoples languish in the faded darkness of their ignorance.”

 

“And yet unless you can move mountains, they will continue to do so.” Rknor gestured to the Plateau above, which even now blocked the sun.

 

The preacher gave the dwarf a quick glare.

 

“And I will try.”

 

Rknor spoke with the man for a while more, sharing his news from Verol and of farther places. For his part, the preacher seemed relatively well travelled himself and spoke of Brepoli and Lake Soll. But before long Rknor found himself tiring of the conversation and bowed out with the excuse of an empty stomach. 

 

As the dwarf made his way to the pub he heard the man launch right back into his sermon behind him.

 

What a strange fellow. He thought.

…

“But- Hey! A drink for the sky!

But- Hey! An austral for the pie!

And never forget the friends we tie!”

 

Half the pub broke out in cheers as the other half chugged down another drink, some of them singing along in drunken chorus as boisterous laughter consumed the pub. Most of the crowd was gathered around Rknor himself, who set down yet a fourth large mug with a loud clang.

 

“Like milk! Didn’t I say to bring something strong?”

 

The bartender laughed.

 

“Any more and a candle’ll set you alike, Master Dwarf!” 

 

“Aye, we’ll see about that.”

 

A younger man, one looking no older than twenty-five, jostled closer to the front around him.

 

“Master Dwarf! Master Dwarf! Could you tell another? Have you ever seen a dragon?”

 

“But I’ve told ye lot seven!” Rknor laughed a loud jolly laugh. “But perhaps I will.”

 

“Cheers for our quarterkin!” A different man raised his mug up high. “For fighting the greatest enemy we know: boredom! If you had any request I’d fill it!”

 

“It’s not the least of which I’ve slain.” Rknor said. “But let me partake of one more of these water pails you call drink…”

 

There was another round of laughter, and Rknor chuckled along with them as the bartender started to fill another. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Rknor noticed a particular figure eating in the corner of the pub. An old farmer sat across from him, and they spoke in fevered mutterings.

 

“Aye, actually I will voice one request.” Rknor brought his voice down to a secretive whisper. “Won’t one of you tell me of my dear Father?”

 

The closest men followed his gaze to the preacher in the back, but there was no hostility in their eyes.

 

“Leo? Aye, he’s a blessed fellow as he’d have it.” The second man said. “Mighty rude if you talk to him, I’d say.”

 

“The tongue of a falcon!” A third man said.

 

“And yet you must let him stay here.” Rknor said. “You let him shout and yell at you all day and night, I marvel at your patience. Why, they must rename this place the Patient Village!”

 

“Oh, not at all, Master Dwarf.” The first man said. “I can’t mind Leo’s tongue and strange ways after what he’s done for me. Cured my sister of the frost plague, you see, and he didn’t even charge for it! Didn’t even say nothing of that damned star when he did it too.”

 

“Aye, I’d think the same.” A tall woman nodded along. “Leo’d drove away the orthungs from my husband’s fields as soon as I moaned! I had to force him to take the silvers too…”

 

“Leo’s a good lad, we’d all say.” The second man concluded. “It’s the least we can do to not mind his delusions.”

 

“A preacher who didn’t use every opportunity to preach?” Rknor looked upon the man with new eyes. “Why, I believe I’ve seen everything now.”

 

“He’s still wrong, of course.” The third man said, to vigorous nods. “He might be a good sort, but I’m afraid his kin not so much.”

 

“Aye, might not last much longer too.” The woman said. “I hear the Lord of the Deep’s called up volunteers for a Grand Undertaking.”

 

“Ah, has he?” Rknor asked.

 

They’re speaking of the Gryphon, of course. Though I’d be hard pressed to believe it’s actually him.

 

“Indeed.” She said. “Hear he’ll be giving the land away when we get up there too. Would be a grand change if I say so myself.”

 

“I wouldn’t know about that.” Rknor warned. “The people are quarrelsome and cold, and the weather more so. And it won’t get any warmer, far as I can see.”

 

“But it’s bright!” The woman persisted.

 

“Aye, it is that. Bright and noble. The people too, once you get to know them.” Rknor nodded. “It has its good bits as everywhere does.”

 

“It is a shame though.” The second man said. “King’s man’s coming down next week to meet Leo, it’ll be a public stoning then.”

 

“You reported him to the king?” Rknor raised an eyebrow. “After what he’s done?”

 

A chorus of outrage met Rknor’s words.

 

“What? Of course not!”

 

“I’d never!”

 

“Not Leo!”

 

“I get it! But how then?” Rknor asked.

 

“He kind of reported himself.” The second man said. “Damn fool won’t lie for the life of him. Literally.”

 

“Yeah, I’ve even offered to hide him away until he leaves.” The first man sighed. “But he won’t take me up.”

 

“...” 

 

Rknor didn’t respond.

 

“It’s gonna be mighty sad.” The third man said. “We’ll have to just aim for the head when it happens. Make it quick.”

 

“I’ll drink to that!” 

 

“Hear, hear!”

 

The group cheered again, and the conversation steered again towards Rknor’s travels.

…

Rknor sighed as the village disappeared behind him and the quiet of the road settled upon him.

 

He’d tried to convince Leo to leave, of course, even going so far as to offer to take him with him to Kazerizz. He’d rejected him, of course. Really quite rude, seeing how great Kazerizz was. It wasn’t often that a dwarf invited a man to a hold.

 

Oh well. Rknor thought. But human business isn’t any of mine anyway.

 

He turned his gaze back towards the mountains ahead and straightened his newly filled satchel. His boots clacked like wood blocks and a merry song broke his lips.

 

“Oh Kazerizz, jewel of the east! Fountains like…”