“You’ve mentioned that before,” Kedryn said, attempting to change the trajectory of the discussion. “Treeless. What does that mean?”

“I forget ye’re like a wee newborn, just a bit longer in the legs,” Krazzik sighed, blowing out a breath. “I’m no Verser, so I can’t recall half o’ the tales, let alone share everythin ye need to know. But what I can tell ye is that treeless be what we call banished elves. They’re cursed, ye see, on account o’ their ancestors bein traitors to the royal line and all. Croon can tell ye the story good and proper, but everybody knows treeless are the worse sort o’ criminal there be.”

“All of them?” Kedryn asked, stealing another glance at Riya.

To his credit, Krazzik paused before answering. “To be honest, Riya’s the only treeless I’ve ever met. If it weren’t for the stories I grew up with, I’d say they were a right honorable lot based on the girl’s character. But a thousand years and more o’ me people hearin about Gretin the Shadow Weaver, Bloody Tren, or Demon Relir,” the dwarf paused long enough to visibly shudder after mentioning the last name. “Well, they be the stories we tell our wee ones to scare them straight. Even me mam got me to listen every once in a while with those threats. Now, I be a firm believer that every race is bound to have both good and bad, but I’ve never heard o’ a good treeless.”

“Until Riya,” Kedryn stated.

“Until Riya,” Krazzik sighed.

If what Krazzik said was true, then Riya’s people mostly resembled the Drow. Fictional elves of pure evil that surrounded most fantasy role playing games. And Captain Glade was the appointed protector of their heir.

A shudder ran down Kedryn’s spine. That was… frightening. And if he were being honest, a bit exciting. Briefly, he wondered if Riya knew how to use a scimitar.

“But why do they call them treeless?” Kedryn wondered aloud.

“On account o’ the curse. Everyone knows if there be a treeless chasin ye, run fer the trees and they canna follow. Trees kill them on the spot. At least, that’s what the stories say.”

“Ye’re either jaw jacking or ponderin,” Bragden barked as he stomped up the stairs to join the two. “Neither of which will save your slagging hides unless the two of ye get to work.”

“We were just thinkin…” Krazzik began.

“If thinking could keep ye from freezing to death then ye might as well give up now. You’d need an intelligence stat for that sort o’ thing,” Bragden huffed, thrusting his hands so close to the fire his hairs on his arms started to smolder.

“Now see here, ye overgrown gnome. We was just gettin to discussin Glade…”

“And what were ye talking ‘bout before then? I swear, I give ye one task to do and ye try and use it to weasel out o’ work. Just like down in the tunnels.”

“That weren’t my fault and ye know it! The motherless dogs trussed me up and used me for slime bait! I lost me arm!” Krazzik growled, shaking his stub in Bragden’s face. “Or did ye forget again, ye senile old rat?”

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“There ye go, whining about yer arm like it be somethin grand. Bah! Me blind mother doesn’t complain as much as you.”

“A good thing she’s blind then, or she would have thrown ye out with the rest o’ the pigs when ye was a babe!”

“Gentlemen,” Kedryn interrupted, knowing full well the two would be coming to blows if he didn’t stop them. “What about Glade did you want to discuss?

Both dwarves glared at one another before Krazzik spoke.

“We need to know if’n Glade could be woken up long enough to accept ownership and activate the settlement core. If the legends be true, we should be able to use it to help fix the hall.”

“Meanin we won’t freeze to death,” Bragden added.

Pulling up his status page, Kedryn perused his most recent notification.

Congratulations! Your Abli’Sen, Glade, has bonded with the three-pointed Settlement Core of Storms' Rest, a named settlement. As you are bonded through ties of the soul you may access the settlement’s interface. What is your Abli’Sen’s is yours. What is yours, is your Abli’Sen’s. More can be discovered through the personal interface.

Note: Due to the nature of your bond, Glade must accept ownership of Storms' Rest prior to you having access to the interface.

Kedryn had shared the message with the others shortly after Glade had passed out, leaving them in their current state. He still didn’t understand why he couldn’t accept ownership for Glade, but he hadn’t been able to find an answer to that particular question. At least his talk with Krazzik about bonds gave him an idea where to start.

“We can wait for him to wake up on his own. He deserves some rest,” Kedryn said. As much as he wanted access to the interface, it didn’t outweigh the simple fact that Glade needed time to heal.

“The issue ain’t about him getting rest, boy,” Bragden said gruffly. “It’s about getting access to that core afore he dies.”

“Bragden,” Krazzik warned, but was overridden by the surly dwarf.

“What? We’re all thinkin it. I’m just the one willing to say what needs to be said. The man is dying. Ain’t no magic we have available is gonna save his slagging hide. If his mana poisoning or bleeding debuff don’t’ kill him then the cold surely will. It be worse than an ice worm’s craw out here and ye know it!”

A knowing look passed between the two dwarves at the last comment, which peaked Kedryn’s curiosity. What were ice worms and how, exactly, did these two know how cold it's craw was?

“I know ye hope Glade’ll just wake up and magically be healed, but that be as likely as finding mithril in sandstone,” Bragden said. “But the fact remains. He dies and our chances o’ survival might die with him. The only question is which of you are dwarf enough to wake the poor sod?”

“What about his rebirths?” Kedryn asked. “If he dies, won’t he come back…”

“Rebirths are not a guarantee, lad” Krazzik interrupted. “It be common knowledge that if’n ye want to move on to the afterlife the Eight will grant the request. Who knows what Glade’ll choose? If he doesn’t come back, we may lose access to the core. If we can get him to grant dual access before that happens, then we might have a chance.”

It was easy to think of his new life like a game, especially with their promised rebirths. If they made a mistake, they could simply come back and try a different strategy.

But this wasn’t a game. The Captain really was dying. But what scared Kedryn now was that his commanding officer, his friend, might not come back even with the rebirths.

“I see yer finally takin this seriously,” Bragden said in a flat tone. “Now, are ye goin to wake him? Or should I?”

After a moment to take it all in, Kedryn looked into Bragden’s cold, dark eyes.

“I will.”

Taking a deep breath, Kedryn took a step toward the throne and stopped. There, sitting in Captain Glade’s lap, was the black egg. Now, how had that gotten there?