Stronric stayed alert, sleeping with one eye open expecting the brothers' return, only to be disappointed when they never showed up. As dawn broke, he energetically prepared to leave camp. With a hardtack in his mouth, started his journey towards the town. It was early afternoon before he could see the town and its great gate in the distance. Smoke rose over the walls and danced above the town. The wind carried with it the scents of the bakeries, horses and mud. Stronric breathed in deeply, reminiscing about the days when he would travel. He took pleasure in persuading and haggling with the locals. Even though the quality of human goods didn't match up to those made by dwarves, they were never-ending. Humans made everything from tools to candies. They had an insatiable hunger for the new and inventive. It was quite easy to lose oneself walking the markets in a human settlement.

The town was protected by a wooden wall with the ramparts made from sharpened ends of logs. Banners, so faded Stronric couldn’t make out any crest, hung tattered on each side of the gate. The gate had two rounded towers overlooking its entry with its robust doors open. Two guards in chain armor lazily leaned on the ramparts overlooking the main road into the town. Stronric could see alarm gongs hanging near the guards inside of their defensive positions. The gate’s doors receded from the wall, a dozen or so paces, making a square kill box for those who wished to siege the village using the front gate. Metal stakes pinned the double door open, allowing that day’s traffic to come and go. Stronric looked at the gates and patted his ram.

“Leave it to humans to never change.” Stronric said as he hailed the guards who were sitting on boxes off to one side of the gate..

“Mornin’ friends.” He said as he raised a hand in greeting. He pulled the ram to a stop, rubbing its nuzzle and turning to the guards. The guards stared at him blankly. Now that Stronric was closer to the city, he could see the archers and how little armor they wore. They donned only a chain mail shirt, and brown leather arm guards. The guards protecting the gates had a longer variation of chain mail shirt, which covered their arms fully and then tucked into heavy leather gauntlets. The armor, fastened with a braided leather cord, extended below the knees. All the of soldiers wore a tabard of white, the embroidered symbol long faded. Their rings showed signs of rust and the pike's blade was dull and tarnished, indicating a dire need for equipment maintenance. Stronric waited. With pikes leaning against the wall or held with an undisciplined hand, the guards just stared at him from the boxes they sat on. Lazily, as if to remember they were guards, the two stood with their pikes in hand to approach the dwarf.

“Are you the “dwarf” who attacked the Codwell brothers on the road?” Asked the guard.

“Attacked is the wrong word. The boy drew steel on me,” Stronric replied.

“You need to come in for questioning.” Stated the guard.

Stronric sighed, “no I don't, I just answered yer question. If ye have any more, I will answer them here.”

The second guard lowered his pike at Stronric. Stronric gave him an annoyed look.

“Look, I want no trouble. I am just here to collect some supplies and then I will be gone.” Said Stronric.

The guards looked at each other. “The capt told us to bring you to the guard station for questioning.”

“Look here, lass, I am not going to enter yer town if ye plan to arrest me. Now call yer captain down here.” Stronric replied as he raised his hands, showing he held nothing.

The guards looked at each other. The first guard nodded towards the town and the other ran off. Looking through the gates, Stronric could see some houses were wooden with stone chimneys. Most of the homes were little more than shacks, their thatched roofs covered in moss and in need of replacing. Cobblestone was used for the main road, while the alleyways and other roads connected to it were made of dirt. From what Stronric could see, the town was poor, but had a steady source of work. The town’s folk were going back and forth doing a day’s work. He could hear off in the distance a black smith laboring away.

The second guard returned a few minutes later, bringing three men with him. The man that Stronric assumed was the guard captain wore a dented breastplate over his chain mail and carried a kettle hat. He was a man at the end of his youth. His weather-worn face was as ordinary as they came, a face forgotten in a crowd the moment you looked away. His unadorned brown eyes, unbroken nose, and brown hair made him even more plain. A longsword of decent quality hung on the captain’s hip.

The other man looked to be an admin of the town. He wore simple brown robes and carried a large ledger. His eyes squinted permanently, while his mouth and fingers bore the stains of black ink. He wasn’t an old man but walked with a hunch from too many nights bent over a clerk’s desk. The third looked to be another guard.

Stronric raised his hand in greeting, “Good morning to yer. It seems you have some questions for me.”

The captain stared at Stronric with his mouth agape. “Bradwick wasn’t lying, a monster of a dwarf, with a beast of a ram.”

Stronric angered a little at the comment, “I am no monster, but I am a dwarf, and this is no beast, this is my ram. I wish to enter your town and do business. I won’t be in town for long, but I have been on the road and would like to conduct my business quickly.”

“You are being charged with assault on a citizen of Millstone. How do you plea and if you object, what is your statement?” the captain asked him.

The admin raised the ledger and fished a quill from inside his robes and licked the writing end. Nudging the captain he leaned in and whispered in the captain’s ear.

“Also, what is your name?” the captain added.

“My name is Stronric Wraith-Thane, I plead not guilty…” he went on to recount the events from the previous night. The guards, captain and admin looked at each other, speaking quietly.

“There are such things as free dwarves. Do you have paper declaring yourself free?” The admin asked.

Stronric reach back and padded his axe. “Any creature that wishes to take me as a slave will taste my iron. I am no slave nor ever will be one. Is that proof enough for ye? The day grows long and I still have many stores to visit.”

The admin and the captain turned on Stronric and spoke among themselves. Turning back to him, “Would you be willing to stay the night in town as we speak to the brothers and verify your story? You are free to shop and sell, but you aren’t to leave till the morrow.”

“Aye I can agree to that,” Replied Stronric.

“What business do you have in Millstone?” asked the first guard.

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“Leather, blacksmiths, feed for me animals, foodstuff, and other supplies.” said Stronric.

They nodded among themselves and waved him forward. He approached the gates, the captains gave him directions to find the trade shops. The captain pointed at the top of rooftops in different directions to guide Stronric on his way. Stronric left the gatehouse and followed the directions to the trader first. He made his way to the center of town stopping before a large two story building. The wooden structure that made up the large establishment sat upon a stop foundation. A sign over the door read “Cobblemug & Co. Trade goods” Stronric tied the ram’s lead rope to a hitching post out front and entered the store.

He met a large room with a vaulted ceilings littered with hooks proudly showing off various goods. Well stocked shelves in rows took up the first part of the room and taller shelves lined the walls Stronric could see. He looked around and eyed large cooper rods with hooks on the ends, presumably to reach the hung goods. He walked deeper into the storefront and saw three doors that hid the back area of the shop and two large doors on the perimeters that would crated goods through.

Stronric walked deeper still, the back wall was dominated by a U-shaped counter top that separated the customers from one of the three doors. The counter top was piled with goods for sale. Crates and barrels were scattered behind the counter, some were opened and in the process of being put out for sale. Basic supplies such as; blankets, bed rolls, pots, pans, flour, and more filled every nook and cranny of the shelves. Every available inch of the store had something for sale. While Stronric walked among the tables, he observed that much of the furniture was either worn or mismatched.

Stronric approached the cashier’s table. A balding gnome with a large black handle-bar mustache and over-sized spectacles sat leaning over a ledger. The gnome was a small creature, only coming up to the chest of Stronric while sitting on a tall stool. Although smaller, the man had a human-like appearance and wasn't misshapen or awkward-looking. He wore a bowler style three piece suit which had faded from a black to more of a gray. Resting on the table were his matching bowler hat, and a tarnished gold pocket watch.

With a strong cough, he caught the gnome's annoyed gaze.

“Apologies, but I do not engage in transactions with enslaved individuals, your master must handle it personally.” The gnome said lazily over the rim of his glasses before, returning to his work.

“But I aint no slave,” said Stronric.

The gnome stared at Stronric and mouthed an “oh”.

“Sorry for the inconvenience. My name is Mintra and I have a deep dislike for the concept of slavery. I won’t have no part of it in my shop, what can I do for you… dwarf?” replied Mintra.

“Why does everyone keep asking me if I am a dwarf? Of course I am a dwarf. They said there were dwarves in these parts, but no one can recognize one?” Stronric said hotly.

“Well, you see, master dwar…”

“Its Stronric.” Stronric cut in.

“Master Stronric, you don’t resemble any dwarf I’ve ever encountered.” He said.

It was Stronrics’ turn to look puzzled. Stronric didn’t look like a dwarf? Now he had been called a lot of things but not being a dwarf had never been one of them. Then again, that human said dwarves were weak and small, so maybe I don’t look like a dwarf.

“Well, I am a dwarf, a true dwarf.” Stronric said, standing a little taller.

It's your physique and facial hair that make me unsure, but of course you’re a dwarf.” Mintra quickly added.

“What do you mean, ma beard?!” Stronric asked in a tone that suggested that such and idea was blasphemy. All dwarfs had a beard. It was at the heart of their culture.

“It is considered inappropriate for a dwarf to have a beard as it suggests rebellion or being a runaway slave,” Mintra explained.

Stronric could feel himself growing more angry by the minute. Was this whole town mad?

“Well enough of that.” Stronric said hotly. “I need supplies but I am new to the area. Is my coin good?” Stronric asked as he pulled the bag of coins from his backpack.

He poured the coins out for the gnome to see them. The gnome sorted them and stared in shock at the gold coin.

Certainly, master Stronric, your money is satisfactory. How can I serve you today?” Mintra said with a smile as he clasped his hands and leaned forward.

Pulling out the bottom of a chair with his list on it, he handed it over to the gnome. The gnome copied items onto a small parchment on his desk as he read down Stronric’s list.

“Most of this is available, and I can always order what’s not in stock when the trade caravan comes by. Are you staying somewhere near by? It’ll take me time to get this order prepared. If you spend a gold, I can always deliver it free of charge.”

“I will stay the night and leave tomorrow. I’ve been away for too long as it is. Can ye recommend me to other shops, for the things you don’t sell?” Stronric asked.

While his order was being prepared, the gnome suggested another place for him to check out. Stronric made a deposit on his order and made his way outside onto the busy street. The villagers stopped and stared at Stronric and his unusual companion. Untying his ram, he made his way down the road to the leather worker’s shop. Stronric felt something watching him as he traveled. He bent down to tie his shoe and looked around, noticing that he was being tailed by two guards and a smaller creature. He spotted the creature as it disappeared into an alleyway. No one else on the crowded street seemed to notice the small green blur, which wore a forest green cloak with the hood drawn over its head. He ignored them and went about his business.

It was a hassle to get the leather worker to agree to make a saddle for the ram, and even harder to get him to agree to make the harness for the goats. The man thought he was kidding. It wasn’t until he offered to pay for all the work up front did the leather worker take him seriously. Four silver down and Stronric was on his way to the blacksmith. Saving the best for last.

The blacksmith was a typical human blacksmith, who worked from a shop to the side of the forging area, where two more humans worked the forge outside. Stronric could see through the window a woman was tending the shop. Stronric tied the ram to a hitching post and headed inside with his short sword tucked under his arm. The door rang as he opened it, and a “Welcome.” greeted him.

“Good morning sir, what master do you serve?” she asked him politely

Stronric rolled his eyes. Every shop he entered, he was called a slave. He couldn’t help but to grit his teeth as a vein throbbed in his neck. He took a deep breath and calmed himself.

“I ain’t no slave.” Stronric said.

“Very well, how can I help you today?” She asked with a smile.

“I need some supplies: A chisel, different hammers of shorts; ball peen, mini sledge, a sledge, …” the list went on for some time.

“It sounds to me like you are starting your own town.” She said as he finished. He flashed her a smile and shook his head.

“No, ma’am, just some basic supplies to get me started,” he replied.

“Is there anything else I can help with?” she asked him.

He laid the short sword down on the table in front of her. Her eyes opened in amazement.

“Where did you get this? Have you been exploring the old ruins? I thought that place was picked apart decades ago.” She asked as she reached out a hand slowly.

“Of course not. I made it myself.” He said with a huge grin, “though I do appreciate the compliment.”

Reaching for the short sword, she looked at him for permission. He nodded his head, she drew the weapon and let out a gasp. After inspecting the weapon, she then set it down. She held up a finger and went outside through a side door. A large man followed her back inside. He was a big man with wide shoulders, and muscular from his years of working the forge. Burn scars covered his arms and hands from the hard work. His blue eyes, in contrast to his work, were soft and kind. There were smile creases on his mouth and brow. The blacksmith smiled and nodded as he entered the shop. The lady pointed at the weapon and the smith picked it up. He inspected, tested the edge of the weapon, and traced the rune carvings with his finger. He set the knife down. The lady pointed at Stronric.

“You made this?” the man asked Stronric.

Stronric nodded. Maybe I had gone overboard on this weapon. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I am not liking this kind of attention. First the citizens, guards, the green creature and now this.

“I am sorry sir, I can not afford to buy this from you.” The blacksmith said as he slid the weapon back towards Stronric.

“And why not?” Stronric asked, his anger returning.

“This is a masterwork weapon. I simply can not afford it.” Replied the blacksmith in a soft voice.

“How about you fill my order, and I pay for it with the sword? The leftover money can be a thank ye or money towards my next order?” he asked.

The blacksmith put his hand under his chin and thought things over. He started nodding and reached a hand out towards Stronric. Stronric clasped and sealed the deal.