Later that night I leaned against a metal balcony and gazed out at the Gnomen city. It was strange to lean on the cold hard metal. In the rest of the world, metal was a rare thing, a thing for swords, armor, arrowheads, and not much else that I could think of. But here, it was everywhere. It was as if there was a limitless supply.

I wondered at the wealth of the city. Everywhere I looked, there still seemed to be activity. It was a bustling place, more so than I had ever seen. Materials and labor seemed to flow as far as I could see, even in the middle of the night.

“Gillith,” I heard a voice behind me say.

I flinched and turned to see Calk come up behind me. He had come through my small chambers without making a noise. The man--or rather, the elf’s ability to move quietly was unnatural and it unnerved me.

“What?” I asked, turning back to look at the city before me. The tall metal towers stretched into the sky, and in the darkness of night, windows glowed with a strange bluish cast to them. Elsewhere, amidst the streets, the same blue lights hung from metal posts. I could hear the distant clang of a hammer hitting metal.

“This is Gillith,” Calk gestured at the view before me and leaned on the balcony with me. “Named after Feer’s father.”

I thought of the old gnome, and I wondered how long it had been since Calk had seen the king. I wondered too how old the gnomes lived, and that made me wonder how old Calk was. Somehow, I didn’t want to know the answer.

“Do they ever sleep?” I asked.

“Who? The gnomes?” Calk chuckled. “Not in the way we do, lad.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Calk turned and leaned his back and elbows on the rail. He looked down at me with his eyes, and in the darkness, I could discern a slight blue glow. His white eyebrows moved up slightly as he grinned with his thin lips.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Humans are greedy creatures. They want things, and they want others to know they have these things. But they want things because they simply want them, and they build things to show off or to satisfy their own greed. It makes them dangerous. They are warmongering and can grow in power. But it also makes them weak.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “But gnomes are different. They build and create to improve the lives of those around them. It’s a communal society—from the very ground up. Even the royals don’t have more money than the tradesmen or merchants. They build not for the wealth of it, but for each other.”

I could barely understand what he was talking about. The entire idea seemed impossible, and I couldn’t see how it could work at all. But perhaps that was because it wasn’t in my nature. I was not a gnome.

“So, if they all have what they want, and no one wants anything—why do they never stop working?”

“I think they take joy in it. They enjoy creation for its own sake. I did not say they weren't prideful people. But it’s a shared pride, and that’s why their craftsmanship can’t be matched anywhere else in the world.”

“Is that why the church hurt them so badly?” I remembered the trek up the mountain and the hanging skeletons. “Because they didn’t know how to fight back?”

Calk raised an eyebrow. “I never said they couldn’t fight. The gnomen people just don’t like to. They aren’t as kind to outsiders as they are to themselves. But if it were up to them, they would stay here on this mountain and let the rest of the world continue on without them.”

I wanted to know more about the gnomen war and what happened, but Calk’s conversation with the king niggled at me more.

“And what about the sword?”

“Scansthe?” He asked, turning to look at me, seeming surprised at the sudden turn in conversation.

I nodded.

“I’ve been looking for it for a long time. I believe it is some sort of conduit of magic. But it managed to evade me.

I searched his face, looking for the familiar hint of mockery, but for perhaps the first time, his expression gave nothing away. “You mean that the sword can think?' I asked.

He shrugged. 'Not in the way that you or I do, but it has a will. I’ve been trying to find the sword for a long time.”

“Why do you want it?” I asked, pressing further despite a growing feeling in my gut that told me to run. The man was like some sort of wild animal--and even if he looked like an elf--beautiful and perfect as if he was carved from a painter’s imagination, I could not drive the feeling that I was staring down the jaws of a monster.

“Now that my boy is none of your business.” He smiled then, and with that, he turned and walked away, as silent as he had come.