Verdan remembered the old converted building that served as the false front to where the Fwyn were staying and led the way there. It was easy enough to find, thankfully, as it sat right up against the mountain and was a little apart from any nearby buildings.

  As before, two Kranjir were standing guard outside, but there was something odd about them. They were clearly not Thearns, but unlike the shieldguards they’d seen earlier, these two had mismatched armour.

  It was only when Verdan saw that they had freshly inscribed Caelin and were carrying the axe polearms that were favoured by Clan Mhorgain that he realised what was happening. Sinead was recruiting her own shieldguard to supplement those who’d already flocked to the resurgent Clan. Last time he’d visited, the door had been watched by a pair of Dirk’s Thearns, which made the change surprising. If tensions were as bad as they seemed, he’d have expected Benlen to keep the Thearns here, not replace them with shieldguards.

  At the very least, the presence of these two signalled that the Clan was doing well. The polearms the shieldguards carried looked new, after all, and bore the black staff emblem of Clan Mhorgain, which meant they weren’t spares from Maeve’s group.

  Now that he thought about it, though, Verdan realised that it was odd that Maeve used the same weapon as the Mhorgain. Clan Thrain favoured axes of a smaller variety, often with shields, and the Bark family seemed to be only one that deviated from that.

  The two guards perked up as Verdan approached, and one started to move to place himself between Verdan and the door, but the other waved him off. “Are you here for the Keeper, Wizard Blacke?”

  “No, I was just intending to visit the Fwyn. Is she here?”

  “She left a few minutes ago. I can send a runner for her?”

  “No, no need, I’ll catch up with the Fwyn first and visit her later,” Verdan said, nodding his thanks before heading inside.

  The old building was an abandoned guard post which looked run down from the outside, but had a carefully restored interior. Stepping through the doorway, Verdan found himself in the large common room he remembered from last time, though unlike last time it held four Mhorgain shieldguards playing cards at a nearby table.

  Past the shieldguards was a hole that had been shaped into the side of the mountain, forming the entrance to the Fwyn burrow.

  As one, the four Kranjir glanced up at the Wizard before returning to their game as they recognised him. Unlike the two outside, these shieldguards were some of the veterans that Sinead had brought south. Like the two outside, though, the four veterans had freshly made polearms, and some of their armour looked newly made.

  Verdan took it all in at a glance, but his attention was taken entirely by the chain of Fwyn emerging from the burrow, each carrying a chunk of either a dark red or tan coloured rock.

  The rocks would be placed on the left side of the room, and then the Fwyn would pick up either a bundle of something in cloth or a metal ingot from the right side and head back into the burrow. A few seemingly recognised him and bobbed their heads in an approximation of a human nod in his direction.

  Looking closer, Verdan realised that the ingots were split equally between bars of brass and bronze. That likely meant that the chunks of rock were likely metal ores of some kind. Sinead had brokered a deal with the Brecan when Verdan was last here, but it looked like that had been expanded somewhat.

  “Could one of you let Gruthka or Hursk know that I’m here?” Verdan asked, heading over to one of the other free tables and taking a seat.

  The Fwyn chorused back an affirmative as they kept on working. They were a strange people, so very different from humans. Physically, the differences were obvious; Fwyn were four to five feet tall at most, with grey fur, huge black eyes, no ears and tiny teeth. Beyond that, they were nocturnal and naturally wielded either earth or decay magic.

  With their innate Aether always aspected, Fwyn were unable to become Wizards, but that seemed to suit them fine. They had been the unseen driving force behind a lot of what the Grym Imperium had accomplished, their magic allowing them to achieve much when protected.

  Fwyn were able to pass down ancestral memories to their children, which meant that they’d known what Verdan had represented from the start. It was odd that he’d been most accepted by the Fwyn, rather than the humans, but reassuring as well.

  So much had changed, but not the Fwyn. They might be hunted by the Darjee or driven off by ignorant humans, but at their core, they were the same well-meaning and hard working people that Verdan had grown up knowing.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  Leaning back in his chair, Verdan took the rare opportunity to rest and relax while the Fwyn worked. He doubted it would take long for one of the Fwyn leaders to arrive, and he needed to plan out the rest of his day.

  If nothing else, he needed to get his allies together to discuss what they’d found in the documents taken from the Brotherhood. Verdan hadn’t read all of it yet, but the trip back had let them cover most of it, and what they’d found had been concerning.

  Caught up in his thoughts, Verdan heard something absently but didn’t realise it was directed at him until Barb kicked his leg. Turning, he realised that one of the Kranjir shieldguards had walked over and said something. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

  The shieldguard was an older woman, her Caelin unreadable in places thanks to old scars and her formerly dark hair streaked with grey. Despite that, she was powerfully built and had an air of easy competence about her. “I said that I wanted to thank you. I arrived here only a few days ago, and I’ve heard much of what you’ve done for our Clan. No other has done so much for us since the fall of Blackpeak, and we all appreciate it.”

  Verdan’s first instinct was always to downplay his contributions, but there was something about the serious look on her face that made him realise it wasn’t the right thing to say. “I’m glad that your Clan is coming together once more. You’ve all shown that you adhere to the same principles I try to uphold, and I’ll do my best to make sure your Clan finds a new home.”

  “Thank you, Wizard Blacke,” the shieldguard bowed her head respectfully and started to walk away before pausing. “We have little, but you are both welcome to join us for a drink and a hand of cards while you wait.”

  Verdan felt a little caught off guard by the offer, but after a glance at the busy Fwyn, who were only halfway through ferrying off their goods, he nodded. “Thank you, I think will. Barb?”

  “I’ll never say no to a drink and some cards,” Barb said, flashing them a grin as she got up. “Which Clan rules?”

  “Mhorgain, of course!” One of the other shieldguards called out with a laugh. “It’s like Clan Baorlin’s, just with enough rules that it doesn’t cater to children.”

  Barb’s grin widened as she took a seat opposite the shieldguard and spread her hands. “Of course, I should know better. Baorlin rules aren’t popular with people who think they can’t win on skill alone.”

  Good natured shouting and insults began to fly as Barb defended her Clan’s rules and tried to teach Verdan at the same time as the shieldguards tried to show him the Mhorgain rules. It was utter chaos, but Verdan found himself laughing harder than he had in a while.

  By the time Gruthka arrived, Verdan had managed to establish that the Kranjir Clans all had the same card game they played, but each Clan had slightly different rules. The intricacies of it all were lost on him, and apparently there was a way for Kranjir of different Clans to play together while all using their own rules.

  Seeing the diminutive Fwyn step into the room, Verdan tossed down his cards, unsure of if he’d been about to win or lose, and stepped away. Barb went to follow him but he waved for her to carry on.

  “Wizard Blacke,” Gruthka said in low imperial, bowing slightly as Verdan walked over to him. “I am pleased to see that you made it back.”

  Verdan saw the Fwyn’s gaze flick to his eye momentarily, but the game had set him at ease enough that he just ignored it. “I’m glad to be back. Do you have time to discuss what has happened in my absence?”

  “Of course, please take a seat. Hursk is away at the moment, but I will answer what I can.”

  Gruthka was the leader of the Fwyn that Verdan had rescued from a marauding band of Darjee, a race of dog-faced humanoids who hunted intelligent species for sport and slave labour. Hursk and his people had also been rescued from the Darjee during Verdan’s trip to the north, and the two groups had merged together on their arrival to Hobson’s Point.

  Hursk now seemed to lead the combined group, along with the Brecan that had joined them, but the elderly Fwyn relied on Gruthka for much of the day to day dealings of their people.

  “I’ve heard that the council cancelled the deal we discussed, though Tobias still got you the food you needed.”

  “More or less,” Gruthka said, fetching one of the small cloth-wrapped parcels and placing it on the table. “He wasn’t able to provide enough food to sustain us, but I believe he did his best. Thankfully, Hursk had foreseen the troubles and only a small group of our people were ready to work with the city. The rest were scavenging and setting up farms elsewhere.”

  Verdan’s eyes narrowed at the somewhat evasive end to that explanation, but before he could ask more, Gruthka unfolded the cloth to reveal a pile of mushrooms. “Wait, is this from Tobias?”

  “No, the supplies he provided have already been distributed. This is part of our deal with Keeper Mhorgain. She is providing ingots for the Brecan and food for us, while we sort and transport ore for her to sell to the city.”

  “Wait, couldn’t the Brecan bring it to her directly?”

  “More or less.” Gruthka shrugged slightly in a very human motion. “They dislike going to the city at the moment after someone threw a rock at one of them. We act as intermediaries for both sides.”

  “Wait, someone threw a rock at a Brecan?” Veran asked incredulously, picturing the scene as best he could. “A rock. At a Brecan?”

  Most Brecan were at least seven feet tall, and were half again as wide as someone like Kai or Vaijon with rock-like skin and crystalline eys. They were impressive and physically intimidating with their raw strength and four arms, but their incredible control over earth and stone was their greatest power.

  What sort of true moron would look at someone like a Brecan and throw a rock at them?

  Verdan had long suspected that some people only survived to adulthood by escaping the consequences of their actions. This kind of idiocy only reinforced that belief. Sure, the Brecan were pacifists who avoided fighting where possible, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t shape a stone prison around an attacker and run away, leaving them to suffocate.

  Sighing, Verdan rubbed his face and motioned for Gruthka to continue. “So, you’re doing well with the trading, what else has happened?”