Square buildings stood shoulder to shoulder with other taller or shorter square buildings. A single torch placed at each intersection gave the impression that the roads' grid was also square, but it was getting harder to see with each passing second. When they turned left down the second street, the area around the spaced-out torches showed the only visible sight.

They trotted along slowly, looking for the Hornblower in the dark. The signs in front of shops, or what they thought were signs, proved impossible to read. After fifteen minutes at a slow pace, they heard muted noises from ahead.

"Sounds like there might be a tavern ahead. Let's get directions from there," Brando suggested.

"You need directions?" An unexpected voice asked from the dark.

"No, we're fine," Brando assured the invisible voice. "Just enjoying a nice quiet stroll."

"I think he thinks you're some kind of rogue," Another voice said with a laugh.

Laughter from someone else joined in. "As far as your wife's concerned, you are."

"Calm down, you lot. We're the city watch. Come into the light, and we'll point you in the right direction." The second voice said before a man wearing a plated uniform stepped into the lantern at the next intersection. A second man followed close behind.

Brando took a deep breath to try to get his heart rate under control. In his experience, strangers looking to make introductions when it's too dark to see never turns out well. After a few calming breaths, he stepped into the light to join the men. When Fin pulled up next to him, he said, "We're looking for the Hornblower."

"Then you're going the right direction, just one more block down." The watchmen said, pointing in the direction they were headed. "It's the door on your right just before the next intersection."

Before they reached the next intersection, two young men ran outside with lanterns. "You staying at the inn, sir? Do you want us to stable your horses?" One of them asked.

"Uh, maybe. Fin, if you want to talk to the innkeeper, I can wait with the horses," Brando suggested, glancing dubiously at the potential horse thieves.

Fin dismounted his horse and made for the door.

"Here, take this, sir," one of the boys spoke, holding out a wooden coin. "It has your number on it."

Fin accepted the token and walked inside. Candles and lanterns lined the tables casting pearls of light dancing off puddles of spilled drinks. Groups of people huddled or lounged around, adding low voices to the chorus of low conversations.

"What can I do for you, young master?" A large man with a beard as round as his body asked from behind the counter.

"My companion and I are looking to stay for the night, maybe longer," Fin said after stepping around two people having a conversation in the middle of the walkway. "He's outside with the horses."

"It's twenty a night per person." the innkeeper gestured for the door. "If that works for you, my boys can take care of your horses and bring your bags to your room."

Realizing that the price of this inn was beyond their budget, Fin hesitated. "I don't think we have that kind of money tonight. We have some business in town tomorrow. Would it be okay to pay you after?"

"Most of the people that stay here are in town for business, with similar circumstances," the innkeeper assured him. "In the worst-case scenario, I'm also a horse merchant. With this," he held up the wooden chip, "You would be able to stay a month or so, depending on how much you drink. We can square up the costs whenever your business is concluded."

Fin thanked the man and went outside to tell Brando.

"Alright, let's do it," Brando handed the reins of his horse to the young man. "Let me grab my things."

"We can take your bags to your room, sir," One of the boys said, handing him a wooden chip. "This has your number on it."

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

After they got their room keys, Fin pointed towards a dwarf in the back of the common room. He was sitting by himself. "We should ask him where the dwarven city is."

"The dwarves might be secretive about their city. It might be safer to ask about Lokardale." Brando held up his hand. "If you buy him a round, leave me out of it. I'm never drinking again."

"Excuse me," Fin approached the dwarf. "We were given directions that we can't make heads or tails of. Do you know where Lokardale is?"

The dwarf frowned and then looked up at the stranger who so rudely interrupted his thoughts. "The oldest joke in the book, and you can't even tell it right. You twicelings don't have a humorous bone in your body."

"Uh, what?" Brando asked. With a more mellow accent than Heidle, he could comprehend what the dwarf was saying significantly easier. He just couldn't understand why he said it.

"The joke goes, have you seen Lokardale?" The dwarf shifted his eyes back and forth between the two men.

"That's what we're trying to find out," Fin stated, confused.

"You're lokarn at it! Hahaha!" The dwarf slapped his knee.

"I don't get it," Brando admitted. "You're lokarn at it?"

The dwarf sighed and then pointed to the chairs adjacent to his. "Please, have a seat." He then raised his hand and motioned for the bartender to bring a round for the table on the two men. "When the dwarves discovered this town, we named it Lokardale, but when the humans arrived, they decided to rename it. Hence the joke, a dwarf and a human walk into a tavern. The barman asks what they're having. The human says, 'I'll have the Clive Rae.' When the dwarf asks what that is, the barman turns and says, 'It's your town's new name.' There's more versions of the joke, but you get the point."

"So, this is Lokardale?" Fin pointed in a circle. "All of this."

"That's right," The dwarf said, taking three new mugs of ale from the innkeeper and distributing them out. "What brings you to town?"

"Have you heard of a dwarf named Heidle the Hammer?" Brando asked.

"Heidle the Hammer, you say?" The dwarf asked, more to see if the name would jog his memory. "I can't say that we've ever met. Why?"

Brando set his untouched mug in front of the dwarf. "It's a long story; you're going to need this."

The two began telling their story, switching back and forth between speakers. Fin described the fake soldiers that picked him up from his house, the goblin slave camp, and the map Heidle had shown them. Brando talked about their escape and their run-in with their previous captors. They did not talk about Fin's abilities.

When they were finished with their story, the dwarf leaned back in his chair. "That is quite the tale indeed. I believe that the dwarves would be more than happy to secure such a mine. Especially if it meant saving one of our own. May I see one of these gems?"

Fin reached his hand into the leather pouch and unstowed one of his gems.

The dwarf reached out and took it. "Very nice. My name is Kaper, by the way. I want to see you succeed in rescuing this Heidle the Hammer. I'll help with what I can in my limited capacity. Where are you planning on selling the gems?"

"We didn't have a specific place in mind," Brando admitted just as the innkeeper set another mug in front of him. "Do you have any recommendations?"

Kaper returned the gem and offered names and directions to three precious stone merchants. "It's better if you get several quotes, but sometimes merchants will offer you less for leaving and then coming back. They can be temperamental."

When Kaper was finished explaining what prices they should expect, he gave one last recommendation, "If I don't see you before you leave, you have to try the zim zamaroni."

"What's that?" Brando asked.

Kaper slapped his knee and bellowed, "It's your town's new name!"