“I still don’t see why I have to be the one who has to come with you,” Cirea grumbled as she did a pseudo walking sulk beside Bragden with Glade and Kedryn following behind. “Helmund has plenty of guards he could assign to babysitter detail. But noooo, apparently I’m the chosen one. Lucky me.”
“You’re just upset because the rank 3 melee championship is going on right now,” Kedryn said.
“Of course I’m upset!” the bailiff scowled. “You would be too if you’d been away from the Sands for as long as I have. Seriously, I don’t even work for Helmund! So why am I the one that has to be here?”
Glade couldn’t keep himself from rolling his eyes at Cirea’s complaints. He didn’t care much for the situation any more than she did, but the constant grumbling was beginning to grate on his nerves.
Things had gotten out of hand quickly the night before after he had pitched his idea to barter for Vlad and Rem’s freedom. While he knew his ability to call on the Adjudicators was rare, he didn’t understand how rare until that moment. With a single look from Helmund, Jirea had tripled their guard and enacted some eavesdropping enchantment within the room in a matter of minutes. Jirea herself had then led a sweep of the entire grounds during which time Glade and the others had sat in uncomfortable silence. Only after the body mage had given the all clear did Helmund start asking for further details.
Glade and others had decided to keep the information as vague as possible, keeping the fact that Kedryn could also call upon an Adjudicator a secret. After all, it made no sense to paint a target on both of them.
It came as no surprise to any of them that Helmund had then asked for proof that they could deliver on such a promise. They had happily obliged, for a price.
After some extensive haggling, he and Bragden had successfully renegotiated their existing contract from a flat 10% house fee on all profits gained in the auction house down to 8% as well as an additional 5% discount for all future transactions made. Glade had emphasized this was a one time occurrence but was open to consider future dealings so long as the price was right and it wouldn’t land them into too much trouble. Only when both parties had agreed did Glade agree to prove he had the ability.
Congratulations! You have learned the skill Trade. Welcome to what many consider the root of all evil, consumerism! You have joined the ranks of high stakes peddling and hagglers, always on the hunt for a better deal. +2% chance in identifying a good deal when you see it and +2% to charisma bonus when haggling per skill level. Current skill level: 1.
Surprisingly, Jirea had been the one to volunteer. Unbeknownst to them, the body mage had never been able to progress past her expert skill rank in her specialized martial skill, the Titan’s Blade, something that had hindered her own personal progress for years.
Glade still didn’t know who had been more surprised, Helmand or Jirea when he called out the Adjudicator of Honor’s name and the large warrior vanished. He barely kept from chuckling at the memory of the stoic warrior’s look of utter surprise right before she vanished.
Much like when Riya had been sent to her trial, Jirea had yet to return. From both Bragden’s and Helmund’s explanation, this wasn’t something to be concerned about. An Adjudicator trial for someone of such high skill rank was rumored to take days instead of hours. Unfortunately, Jirea's absence didn’t keep the half elf from trying to assign half his guards as Glade’s personal protection detail.
Of the group, only Glade and Kedryn thought the precaution was overkill. It had taken some time, but he had talked them all down to just having Cirea watch over them wherever they went, seeing as the additional guards would draw unwanted attention.
Glade was starting to regret that choice as Cirea continued her non stop complaints.
“Not that I really care, but why am I leading you to the Dwarven consulate again?” she asked, putting her hands behind her head as she walked in a deliberate show of boredom.
“As I done said before, I’ve got official business on behalf o’ me clan,” Bragden snapped, his patience for the body mage having long since worn thin.
“Care to elaborate on that?” she asked, eyeing the dwarf. It was obvious she was trying to gather whatever information she could on why she was with them instead of enjoying her time at the arena. Everyone had agreed to restrict the information of Glade’s ability to only those with a need to know. Helmund had even been the one to demand such a precaution before hammering out a plan to not only protect Glade and his party’s identities should the deal go through, but also building false trails that would point away from them should the information that someone within Asylum could call on the Adjudicators leaked out.
“It taint any o’ yer slagging business,” Bragden grumbled, giving her a withering look.
“Fine,” she huffed. “But seeing as we’re going to the consulate, you’re buying me a redstone lager.”
Bragden grumbled something under his breath when Kedryn piped up.
“Wait, are you saying they sell beer at the consulate?” he asked, surprised.
“‘Course they do,” Bragden said, giving Kedryn the kind of look that he had asked a very stupid question.
“It’s a Dwarvish consulate,” Cirea explained, a smile finally making its way on her bored face. “They say the consulate even brews a couple of local blends here, though I couldn’t tell you for certain. You’re only allowed in the bar if you have a special invitation.”
“Of course they would have a bar,” Kedryn said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“No,” Glade said.
“No, what?” Kedryn asked, adopting an innocent expression.
“You’re still underage,” Glade said, as if that explained everything.
“Just means more for me!” Cirea laughed at Kedryn’s crestfallen look.
“None for you either,” he said, his voice stern. Glade knew he may be overstepping himself, but he didn’t really care. Cirea was there to protect them and the last thing he needed was to introduce alcohol into the mix. “You’re on the job.”
“Now wait just a minute!” Cirea snapped, her smile vanishing. “You have no right to deny me a drink…”
“Stop twisting yer whiskers!” Bragden interrupted. “Glade be right. Yer on the job. Besides, a dwarvish pint the quality that yer asking for would put ye under the table afore ye even got past the foam.”
“For your information, I do not have whiskers,” she snapped. “And I’ll have you know that I can handle dwarvish ale just fine!”
“Bah, that be the watered down stuff we sell to ignorant humans and beardless gnomes,” Bragden scoffed. “But if’n ye want to try yer hand with the genuine article, ye can join Gent and meself for a drink later tonight. I already done promised Gent I’d bring him back a small keg o’ redstone. Besides, I think ye’d like the atmosphere back where we’re stayin more than at the consulate. They don’t take to anyone outside o’ dwarves all that well.”
Cirea continued to grumble, but finally agreed. Shortly after that, they arrived at their first of two destinations for the day.
Glade didn’t exactly know what to expect from a dwarvish consulate, but a small castle in the middle of the city with a moat and drawbridge wasn’t it.
Cirea led the group toward the open gate and the two heavily armed and armored guards.
“State yer business,” one of them growled, looking first to Bragden and then to the others.
“I’ve come to pay me clan’s due through the Consul General,” Bragden said, stepping forward.
“Which clan and who be yer chief?” the guard asked, though he hadn’t taken his eyes off of the others.
“And who be yer… guests?” the other guard asked derisively.
“I guess they’re not so big on winning the hearts and minds of the locals,” Kedryn muttered just loud enough for Glade to hear.
“Clan Slaghammer,” Bragden said with pride, the guards snapping their attention back to him with a look of shock. “Me chief be Krazzik Slaghammer, first o’ his name. I be his second. The human behind me with the perpetual scowl be blood bonded to me chief.”
“When do I ever scowl?” Glade said.
“Yer seriously asking that question?” Bragden asked him in disbelief.
Both guards looked at each other uncomfortably.
“I done heard yer clan was disbanded on account that all of you was collard…” the one on the left began.
“Slagging rumors youngsters like you shouldn’t be listenin to,” Bragden scowled. “Now, let us pass so’s I can be done here and outta yer beards while the sun is still up.”
“You’ll have to come in without these others,” the other guard sneered, looking between Cirea, Kedryn, and Glade with barely disguised disgust..
“Bah! I don’t have time for idiots who haven't even earned a braid between them,” Bragden snarled, pushing past them.
“Wait!” the one on the left cried out. “You can’t go in unless we say you can!”
“Watch me!” Bragden called back.
Glade, Cirea, and Kedryn all shrugged at each other before following suit, walking past the stammering and shocked guards.
“They seem friendly,” Glade commented after they were out of earshot.
“Best get used to it,” Bragden said, pushing open a large door that led into a great hall. “Dwarves be pricklier than a briar bush when it comes to dealing with other races. Only reason me people tolerate the outside world is because of the coin we can make. Also, Slaghammer isn’t what you would call a well loved or well known clan. That’ll add to the awkwardness.”
“Should we wait outside?” Kedryn asked. “We don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
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“If’n we were a normal clan then I’d say yes,” Bragden said unapologetically as he led them deeper into the castle. “But the truth is I don’t trust anyone here but you and the bloody mercenary companies, and only them if’n I hired them with me own coin.”
Glade looked around the stone hall, marveling at the intricately constructed walls, carved statues of dwarven warriors, and meticulously arrayed banners and tapestries hanging from the ceiling and walls. Even more surprising was the fact that the hall reminded him of an elaborate bank. Intimidating dwarves sat behind tall counters, each looking down on humans and other races that were in line to speak with them.
“Why not trust your own people?” Kedryn asked. “I know you’ve mentioned some challenges with the King in the past regarding your clan, but I still don’t fully understand it.”
“There was more push back in creating our clan than there should have been,” Bragden explained, his voice darkening. “Then we just happened to be rounded up by slavers when the slagging ship was chartered by the Crag? If’n that doesn’t stink worse than Croon’s unwashed drawers then I'm a bearded gnome. No, someone up top doesn’t want me clan to succeed.”
“That does sound shady,” Cirea said, taking in the scenery. “But why even pay the dues? Why not just take your clan and live as you like?”
Bragden shot Cirea a look of incredulity mixed with disgust. “That be the stupidest suggestion I’ve done heard since I left me clan chief for this thrice damned human city!” he growled. “We wouldn’t be a clan otherwise.”
“But if they don’t want you to be a clan…” Cirea began.
“Would you rather we be clanless?” Bragden asked in disbelief. “No! We have scraped and clawed for the right to raise a clan! No one, not even the King, can deny us that right!”
“I think this is one of those things that we should let go,” Glade said, stopping Cirea from asking any more questions. He didn’t understand the importance of having a registered clan either, but he wasn’t about to begin arguing the finer points of Dwarvish politics in the middle of the consulate either. The last thing he wanted was to start an all out brawl.
The group walked past the high counters and their lines to a dwarf sitting at a dwarf sized desk along the wall.
“I take it the other lines are for the other races?” Kedryn speculated.
Bragden just grunted his response before sitting down the chair across from the other dwarf. The chair he sat in looked to have been tailor made for his kind and he let out a huge groan of relief.
“Ye have no idea how comfortable this is after the weeks o’’ having to climb up those slagging human sized chairs.”
“Ignorant barbarians, every last one of ‘em,” the dwarf behind the desk absently agreed as he continued to write something in a ledger. He was of average size for a dwarf from what Glade could tell, wearing a simply cut gray tunic with black trousers, though the material itself was of high quality. His skin was a deep tan with a thick, black beard with more than a half dozen braids interwoven with rings of gold. But what really stood out were the tattoos on the sides of his shaved head.
Hundreds of intricate runes formed three circles of interlocking chains. But where Bagden’s tattoos were a dark green in color, this dwarf’s was a bright gold, which practically glowed from the lights streaming in from the high windows.
After a few more seconds of writing, the unknown dwarf looked up from his ledger, taking in Bragden first and then his party. There was no obvious reaction that Glade could tell, but he had the feeling they were being judged.
“Me name’s Thad TriGold o’ the TriGold clan, what can I help ye with?” he asked.
“Bragden Grimheart o’ clan Slaghammer. I’m here to pay me clan’s dues.”
“Slaghammer? I thought yer clan was disbanded,” Thad said in surprise..
“You and everyone else heard wrong,” Bragden said, pulling a sack from his bag and setting it on the table. “Here be the 50 gold for the King’s tax, as laid out in our charter.”
The dwarf stared at the sack and then at Bragden.
“I’ll be needin to talk with me supervisor,” Thad said, standing so quickly that he knocked his own chair over in the process.
“No need to get him out here,” Bragden growled. “The charter signed by the crown says we can pay either at the Crag or any o’ the consulates. You aren’t going to go against the charter, are ye?”
“No,” Thad stuttered. “Just… I’ll be right back.”
The dwarf fled into the back rooms.
“Well, this ought to be interesting,” Cirea said with a smile as she sat down in the chair next to Bragden. The moment she did her smile vanished. “Ughh! How can anyone sit in these?!”
Glade repressed a laugh. Cirea was already a large woman, but she looked like an adult sitting in a child's chair with her knees almost hugging her chest. When she made to stand up, the chair came with her.
“Stop foolin around,” Bragden snarled. “Yer just as bad as Krazzik.”
“I’m not sure who that is, but if he has to put up with you all day than I empathize with him,” Cirea said, trying to pull the small chair off of her.
A few minutes passed before Thad came back with another dwarf who looked strikingly familiar to him except that the newcomer was much more round around the waist and had more braids and rings of gold in his beard.
“I be Deputy Consul General Gerwin o’ clan TriGold. Thad tells me you are here representing the Slaghammer clan?” the older dwarf asked.
“Aye,” Bragden said, folding his arms in defiance.
“And you are here to pay the King’s tax?” Gerwin asked further.
“Aye,” Bragden repeated.
“Well, this be quite the surprise,” Gerwin said, folding his hands over his ample belly. “We heard from the Crag itself that yer clan was enslaved. It was quite the surprise.”
“Aye, we were,” Bragden said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But you can rest assured that me and me clan are no longer under the collar.”
“How did ye get the collars off?” Gerwin asked, leaning forward with interest.
“We paid the price, if’n thats what yer asking,” Bragden growled. “Now, are ye going to take our money or will the king be forfeiting this year's taxes?”
“Come now,” Gerwin said with a smile. “The details matter in situations like this. Surely ye can share with us how ye got the collars off? Maybe over a pint o’ redstone? Or would ye’d like to try some o’ the king’s own valley gold blend? I got me a personal stash in me office…”
“No,” Bragden growled, his eyes narrowing. “Just here to pay the tax and be on our way.”
“Why do you want to know so badly about the slavers anyway?” Kedryn asked. “Shouldn’t you be happy that an entire clan is free from being illegally enslaved?”
Gerwin shot Kedryn a dark look.
“The Deputy Consul General doesn’t speak with unaligned foreigners,” Thad quickly interjected. “It’d a right smart idea to stay out of dwarf business.”
Glade almost laughed out loud. If they only knew who Kedryn was this would be an entirely different conversation. Still, the xenephobic attitude had been bothering him since they arrived. It was time he chimed in.
“I’m actually kind of curious about that myself,” Glade said, doing his best to loom over the two dwarfs. To add to the effect, he decided to use a new aspect of his telepathy that he had recently discovered with Kedryn’s help. During their long journey, the Kid had suggested that instead of crashing into someone’s mind to establish a connection, that he instead try a lighter touch. Not only had it worked, but Glade had learned that he could subtly influence his target's emotions in minute ways while reading their surface thoughts.
It wasn’t the intense psychic attack he had become accustomed to, but it had its uses.
As Gwerin spluttered at Glade’s gall in responding to him in such a way, Glade delicately pushed out with his mind, nudging the fat dwarf’s already flustered mind into further disarray.
“This be Dwarven business…” Gerwin growled.
“Then it's a good thing I’m a blood brother to the clan chief,” Glade said, sensing something just underneath the surface of Gerwin’s thoughts. On instinct, he pulled at the information, trying to covertly bring the thought to the forefront of the dwarf’s mind.
“Blood brother?” Gerwin asked in surprise. “That fool bonded with a slagging human?”
“Aye, that he did,” Bragden growled. “Best decision he ever made. Now, getting back to the taxes.”
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have a copy of clan Slaghammer’s charter in our records,” Gerwin said, all pretenses of civility gone. “Without a signed and sealed charter by the King, we cannot be helping you with your request.”
“Good thing I brought a copy o’ the charter with me,” Bragden growled, pulling a sheaf of dirty and worn pages from his pack and slamming it onto the desk. “It might be a little rough around the edges, but it be a certified copy o’ the charter.”
Glade sensed the shock and surprise in Gerwin’s mind as Bragden laid down the documents. A thought flew to the surface, which he gladly encouraged to be spoken aloud.
“That's not possible, the Gnolls said…” Gerwin began, but snapped his mouth shut.
Glade kept his face impassive at his success, but Bragden’s already dark look darkened further.
“What’d ye say about Gnolls?” he growled dangerously.
Gerwin looked between Bragden and charter lying on the desk.
“That doesn’t look like an original charter,” Gerwin said, trying to cover up his mistake.
“Like I done said, it be a certified copy. Me logistician demanded he get a copy as part of his contract. Glad he did too, seein as ours was confiscated and burned when were taken as slaves,” Bragden explained, his voice growing more dangerous. “You were sayin something about Gnolls?”
Glade saw other thoughts flashing in panic around Gerwin’s mind, but try as he might, he couldn’t get him to say those out loud. Still, he made a note to ask Helmund if he could request certain documents from the slavers guild. The Deputy Consul General’s thoughts had been most enlightening.
“I’ll take this back to my office to verify its legality,” Gerwin said gruffly, moving to take the papers from Thad’s desk.
Bragden slammed his hand down, pinning the charter to the desk while looking Gerwin in the eyes.
“I’ll not be letting these out o’ me sight,” he growled. “Naturally, I’ll be asking for one o’ yer mages to make a few certified copies. With me present o’ course.”
“Of course,” Gerwin said through gritted teeth. More thoughts bubbled to the surface of Gerwin’s mind.
“And just a warning friend,” Glade said with a smile. “Bragden is a renowned astral mage and enchanter. He will know if your mage is qualified or mistakenly casts the wrong spell.”
As if they had planned it, Bragden quickly drew several glowing runes on the desk around the charter.
“I do not appreciate what you are implying,” Gerwin ground out.
“I was just recently made a blood brother to the clan,” Glade said with an indifferent shrug. “I’m still learning to overcome my barbarian human tendencies.”
After looking between Glade and Bragden for a few seconds, Gerwin gave Thad a curt nod, who left to grab the mage.
Much to their surprise, Gerwin nor the mage tried to do anything underhanded. It took all of thirty minutes to create three copies of the charter, one of which was kept by the consulate, and the taxes paid. They walked away from the desk with receipt in hand.
As they did, a notification appeared.
Congratulations! You have completed the Quest: A Chief’s Plea II. The Slaghammer clan is being unjustly dealt with by the King’s council. In order to beat them at their own game, Chief Krazzik and his people must meet all criteria set forth in the terms of their charter. To succeed in this quest, you must help the clan meet the following conditions:
Condition I: Free all members of the Slaghammer clan from slavery before the end of the temporary charter.
Condition II: Find a home for the clan that is not claimed by other political parties before the end of the temporary charter.
Condition III: Pay the King’s tax in full before the end of the temporary charter.
Optional Condition: Find evidence that the King’s council is dealing unjustly with the Slaghammer clan.
Reward: You have earned 3,100 XP and an increase in regard from Krazzik Slaghammer and his clan.
Optional Reward: You have uncovered enough circumstantial evidence to satisfy the optional condition of this quest. +3,000 XP.
Note: Due to Bei’Kedryn Serevlir staking his house’s honor on the completion of this quest all rewards are doubled. Total XP earned: 12,200.
“I just leveled!” Kedryn commented excitedly. No sooner had he said it than Glade too received a notification.
Congratulations! You have gained level 14! Through hard work and sacrifice you have advanced along your path. Let the knowledge of who you are and what you stand for guide you throughout your journey.
As an Enlightened Human you gain 5 attribute points to allocate, with an additional point auto allocated to the attribute most used since the last level gained.
Note: One attribute point has been auto allocated to Endurance.
“Congratulations, you just drew unwanted attention to yourself,” Bragden growled at Kedryn as he approached another desk. This one had a grisled dwarf with a massive scar running through one eye and multiple silver rings tied into his beard. The tattoo’s on the side of his head were in the shape of a fist holding three lightning bolts.
The dwarf took one look at their party and scowled deeply.
“I thought we were leaving for the Obsidian bank next?” Glade asked, closing his notifications. He would determine where he would allocate his points later.
“Dwarven mercenary companies can be hired out here to do a job,” Bragden explained. “With all the requirements of our charter now complete, we can arrange for our kin to join us. I’m looking to hire the best o’ the best, which happens to be the Thunderfists, to protect our loved ones along the way from any interference should Gerwin and his ilk want to take their frustrations out on the innocent.”
“Smart,” Cirea said. “I’ve fought a Thunderfist in the arena before. They’re tough.”
“Did you win?” Kedryn asked.
“Who do you think gave Mr. Grouchy over there that scar?” Cirea smiled prettily as they approached the desk.
“Cirea,” the dwarf growled.
“Dorgren! You’re looking chipper since last we saw each other! What has it been, two, three years?” she called back in a sing song voice.
“Not long enough,” he muttered. “What can I do for ye?”
“Do you happen to know where the bar is?” Cirea asked innocently. “My friend here promised to buy me a small keg of redstone lager.”