It was morning when Snorri awoke, his head slumped on the wooden table next to his empty mead glass and stew bowl. The last thing he remembered was the end of the council meeting. As the morning air rolled in from the open door, he realised his head was dully rinsing with pain. Blinking himself awake, he jumped down from the oversized chair and, picking up his sword from the table, made his way from the room. As he reached the door and made his way out, he turned his head as he heard a dwarf voice echoing towards him from one of the other buildings in the trading post. "Snorri, good to see you awake,” Buulk said, leading him over to the building. Snorri gingerly made his way across the grass to meet the dwarf. “Why does my head hurt so much?” He grumbled as he drew close.
“That would be the mead,” Buulk exclaimed. “Just ignore it and drink some water,” he finished throwing snorri a water skin. The gnome took a deep drink. "So, when are we leaving?” He asked Buulk as the dwarf led him inside the building. “Soon Kult and I have been up all night fixing the waggon; all that is left to do is pack up the supplies, and we can get on the road.” Buulk replied, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Anyway, I have something for you,” he said, leading Snorri over to a table in what appeared to be a blacksmith's workshop. “When we get to the capital, it would be best if you were disguised as a dwarf child; less checks that way, so we thought about how to make that happen, and this is what we came up with.” Upon finishing his words, the dwarf placed three pieces of armour on the table, two dwarfish gauntlets, and a helmet. Snorri picked them up and examined them.
“There are many fingures." Observed snorri.
“Well yeah, we packed the little ones. If you run around with less fingure than a dwarf, then they will realise you aren't actually a dwarf.” Buulk said, defending the gifts, and threw Snorri the helmet. “For the ears” Snorri nodded before trying on the next pieces of armour. Other than the lack of ability to move his smallest fingers, he was very similar to a dwarf child of the same sort of age. "See,” smiled Buulk. “You look like one of us is all ready.” His smile was interrupted by shuffling footsteps before a very tired-looking Kult the blacsmith came into the room. “Waggon’s ready, Duke. an I pplease go to bed now?” He asked. Buulk nodded, and Kult ran from there before Buulk had a chance to change his mind. "Well, come on, then let's best get going before dwarf starts waking up and asking me to do things,” Buulk muttered before leading the now-helmeted gnome from the room.
As they entered the opened space at the centre of the trading post, a huge waggon welcomed them, a ad-tempered-looking mare fastened to a leath harness at its front and piles high with six large barrels and several large leather packs. Snorri climbed up into the waggon as Buulk took the one seat at the front and clasped the reigns in his large hands. and the waggon rocked forwards towards the large wooden gates that stood open, seemingly awaiting their departure. “How far is the capital?” Asked Snorri as they passed under the shadow of the gate and left the safety of the trading post behind. "Well, it's about a day by waggon to the old border wall, and from there maybe a day to the Dragon Highway, which brings us out just outside the city gates.” Buulk yelled to him as he drove the waggon forward on a familiar dirt track.
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“What happened to the caravan?” Asked Snorri, He had presumed they would be travelling with other dwarfs. “Err about that,” said Buulk guiltily. “We sort of missed it by a few weeks; we lost track of time out there, my ad." Snorri found a comfortable spot in the back of the waggon and managed to lay across one of the leather packs. His head was still throbbing. “Buulk, What did your council mean when they were talking about you selling gnomes?"After awhile, he spent time in silence as his horse trotted across the grassy land. Buulk let out a long sigh before reponding. "Well, you remember how I told you about the Mankidd fighting stuff? Well, most of our Mankidds come from the south; they think they get brought by the elves, but you never quite know. Anyways, after the war when I became duke, about 4 centuries ago now, we noticed that unlike the other mankidd's, The ones in our terrotiry seemed to be abnormally intelligent, and we sort of worked out a marketing strategy.” Buulk exsplained.
“So you forced us to fight?” Snorri asked more out of curiosity than anger.
"No, no, that would have been stupid. Until you, no man has ever been above a level five, no offence,” he said, adding the last words quickly after a brief pause. “We only sold to breeders; any mankid that came from us was used to breed fighters with brains, and we killed for the lives they got to lead,” Buulk chuckled. Snorri mulled over Buulk’s words as they rumbled through the landscape. As far as he knew, the only Gnomes who had been above ground other than himself and possibly Professor Hordes had been banished after committing some crime or another. He dreaded thinking about what their descendants would be like if he were to encounter them in the capital. He opened his mouth to ask another question, and the dwarf hushed his with a quick gesture, rasing his closed fist to the air. “Whats wrong?” Snorri asked.
“Stay in the wagon. Stay hidden.” Muttered Buulk in a hushed whisper. Snorri dove low in between the barrels on the wagon. "What's wrong?” he hissed to Buulk as the waggon came to a stop. He could hear the sound of approaching footsteps as several creatures walked towards where the waggon now stood motionless. From his hiding place, Snorri finally heard Buulks almost whisper. “Bandits”