There's no rest for the wicked, no mercy for the damned, no glory for the hero, no deed without punishment. As I laid on my bed late at night, I felt like I'd kicked an anthill. The factions and forces in Windemere stayed in a stalemate for more than a decade, none willing to make a move because everyone was in a comfortable position. It was something closer to a Nash Equilibrium in their game. Nobody was losing more than they were profiting, so they were biding their time.

Enter yours truly. It could be Fat Felix's inquiries, Kazuyran's [Assassins] removing Torgo's mercenaries from the Dungeon, or the disturbance of power at the Academy. Maybe it didn't have anything to do with me, they were just waiting for the three Royals to settle and start the school term to make sure these pieces would be where they should. Maybe it was a coincidence, but I couldn't help but feel my stomach churn.

The equilibrium had been disturbed, one way or another. The once saturated solution started to precipitate. Dominoes toppled and crashed into the next ones. Like a chain reaction, the entropy permeated the system and forced everyone to make their moves, to play their cards. The battle for Windemere had started. It would take some time for the players to position their pieces. Then the drums would thunder and the metaphorical beacons, light up. There was no Gondor to come to aid this Helm's Deep, though. Windemere had opportunists to the north, Enemies to the southwest, more opportunists to the west, and ungrateful refugees to the east.

To better understand that last part, I sifted through my recollection of the evening events.

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I returned home under the canopy of stars, with Ayla and Sylvis painting the world with pastel greens. The first thing I noticed was the silence in the smithy. It wasn't normal as Helger spent twice as much time hammering and melting metal than sleeping. Sensing one sentient inside, I phased through the door, worried.

"Heh, that's a new trick," my dwarven father was at the dining table, downing her third… fourth bottle of spirits. "Join me, daughter. Let's drink on a gainless day."

"That bad, old man?" I joined him and he poured me some alcoholic disinfectant. The good stuff was already gone, his taste buds probably gone to respawn. "No clients at the shop?"

"HA! I wish. People come in every day to ask about the child blessed by the [Saintess]. Most leave after buying something. That brand you created, H&H, I had it registered in our family's name," he guffawed. "I added my personal rune to it, above and between the two 'H', though. Once you inherit this smithy, you add yours. Then your sons and daughters too."

"Don't you go and marry me off, old man. That's happening never. If you want some grandkids, you better put those loins of yours to work elsewhere. Get a wife, adopt some siblings for me. We can expand this hovel too. I could use more space. Sounds like a plan. Let's deplete the orphanage of their junior worshippers."

"That ain't happening," he hiccuped and downed another mug. I poured him more liver-slayer. "Clan head summoned everyone back to the hold. I convinced my uncle to let you stay here to study," he reported as if giving a general the butcher's bill.

"What's wrong?" I held his hand to keep him from drinking more.

He gently put his other hand over mine and our eyes met. Helger's eyes, my father's eyes, had sorrow, regret, love, warmth, and fear in them. "It doesn't concern you, child. Study, become a worthy [Wizard]. Live your life Haru. Don't involve yourself in politics. And don't wait for me at night. I am not coming back for a while."

I ran several scenarios in my mind. All I could hear was Qui-Gon Jinn: "A communications disruption means only one thing."

"Are the dwarves seceding?" I asked without taking my eyes away from him. I took his mug away and downed it myself. "And I couldn't be more involved in Windemere politics than what I already am, father."

"What do you mean? Did the [Princess] do something to you?" His surprise turned to indignation turned to anger. "Did you swear some oath to those bastards from Lonid?"

I returned a placating smile, "No, father. I swore no oaths and would never do such a foolish thing. Mirina is not a concern anymore, nor will be Lonid if she does her job."

"I don't understand. She's a [Princess], and you…"

My smile became a grin. The grin widened and I stared at the distraught dwarf, my mother's last true friend. "Maybe it is time for you to know the truth about me, Helger."

He chilled and froze for a moment.

"Too many people know more than you, father. It's unfair if I don't tell you as much as I told them already. But before I do, I must make sure your heart understands one absolute truth and clings to it. It's the only way you won't hate me."

"Haru Stouthammer. You are my only true daughter, even if you are not born of my loins," He proclaimed with all the seriousness a dwarf could muster. Even if that fool of a Patriarch Axejaw orders your murder again, I'll fight every dwarf there is to protect you."

I giggled, "That makes things much easier, father."

"What truth must I commit to heart?"

"That I love you, father. That you have redeemed yourself before Nozmizla's ghost already. That I also love this country, but I would raze Windemere before I allow you to bleed a single drop."

Helger closed his eyes. He hiccuped, but it was obviously the booze speaking. Obviously. "Thank you, Haru," he slurred. The dwarven smith then stood up in a flash and punched the table, breaking it in twain as he groaned a non-gormandizing war cry. Raising his head to the sky, Helger Stouthammer screamed whatever haunted his mind away.

The neighbors' dog howled. People living next to us screamed their indignation at us, commanding silence.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Sober, his fierce gaze met my eyes. "I love you too, daughter. I shall do as you asked. Haru Stouthammer loves me. That'll be engraved in my very soul."

"No oaths!" I stood past the debris and hugged him. "Now the truth."

He nodded.

"I'm from another world, brought here because I died. I came from the dawn of time, living many secret lives, struggling to protect what I hold dear. I don't know the end yet, but I hope I won't be alone when I reach it. I hope there can be more than one."

I didn't stab my belly to prove a point, though. After Helger digested what I said, I spent most of the night with him, retelling all my lives, especially those involving Windemere. He still didn't believe me, until I spoke the only language he fully understood.

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"Now you're talking, daughter!" He chortled. "What an amazing piece!"

Helger was admiring one of my alter egos' signature equipment. The [Master Smith] had a psychometric Perk that allowed him to see the history of a piece of martial equipment, be it arms or armor. What he had before him on a brand-new table was none other than King Locksley's gothic plate armor.

I showed him my other forms. Duchess Nagini, Rosewise, Lakerta, and Locksley wearing that armor were all immortalized in paintings by Windemere's artists. Their faces were well-known but that was also a problem in itself. Any shapeshifter could study those and copy their forms, or even a [Rogue] or a [Spy] put on a very good disguise and pass as one of them.

But "steel is honest", as the smith proclaimed his motto once more.

I had an idea. "Does that Perk of yours work on weapons not made of metal?"

"Aye, they do. Wood, bone, monster carapace. A [Weaponsmith]'s trade is not only about metal."

I showed him the Unicorn King's spear. It took Helger's breath away. He examined every inch of the spear with the same admiration a teenager would display toward a new Porsche. He also uttered every kind of subvocalization known to man.

"This is amazing!" He finally gave the verdict.

"Do you know how I can upgrade it?"

"It will grow stronger by merging with compatible bones and horns from strong creatures."

"I have some we can test," I took a red dragon horn from storage. "How do I merge them?"

After snatching the horn from me, he shouted, alarmed. "Haru! By Labraid's braided beard, how did you get a dragon's horn?"

"How do people get dragon's horns, dad? By killing one, of course. Or will dragons give away their horns if someone visits one and asks nicely?"

"Ah," he rambled on regardless of my explanation. "The things I could make with this baby. It's almost straight, maybe I could carve the core into a two-handed sword, then some thin-bladed swords from the sides, and a few daggers. Yes. Or should I saw off this thicker part here, and make ax blades."

I shook him out of his reverie until he paid attention to me again, "I have more if you want some, you know? I think I have two dragon heads I haven't dismantled yet."

He chuckled, still in a state of "blacksmith grace", and asked, "Just the heads?"

"Obviously not. Waste not, want not. I have three dragon bodies intact and one dismantled one."

He leaned closer, "Oh, what colors?"

I pointed northeast. "Do you know that Dungeon over yonder, the one the dwarves shut down and think it's theirs? Where I fought and killed the so-called 'Black Dragon King'?" I asked but had a doubt. Was it "King" or "Emperor"?

"Of course I know of it! They say the dragon was so big you'd need a thousand dwarves to match his height! We'll need decades to process and make equipment out of all that dragon hide!"

Exaggerations apart, the dragon was huge. I snatched my horn back. "Upgrade spear. Dragon horn. How?"

He was dismayed by the loss of the horn, "Just touch the two together. The spear should absorb it and strengthen itself."

I did.

> Unicorn King's Spear

>

> Price: Inestimable. Unique artifact.

>

> Base damage: 4d20+15

>

> Indestructible.

>

> Enchantable.

>

> Upgradeable. (On cooldown: 10 years left).

>

> Materials: Unicorn King's horn, hair, and bone. Red Dragon Horn.

>

> Bond: Soul-bound to the [Unicorn Queen]

>

> Unicorn King's Noble Heart: Item will monitor the user's intentions and show approval or displeasure regarding the Unicorn King's values of Nobility and Purity.

>

> Red Dragon's Wrath: If the target is not resistant (or worse) to fire, the spear ignites right before striking and covers the target with Dragon Fire. Dragon Fire burns all.

Five points of base damage and a special ability. Not bad! And it could accept more upgrades, as the upgradeable property hadn't disappeared. The 10-year cooldown wasn't a problem.

Back to business! I stored my precious things back and stared at the dwarf. "Do you believe me now, father?"

"I believe you now, daughter. I'm--"

I stopped him from sinking back in that emotional wormhole. "Don't apologize father. It's a claim hard to believe. But most people assume it might be true after I show them my titles."

He nodded. "Aye. Titles can't be faked. But while they speak of your achievements, they aren't unique. Who knows, maybe someone elsewhere went through similar steps and earned a lot of titles too."

I grunted. "In a single lifetime? Because I'm the only one the gods can't stop from remembering their previous lives. There was another guy, but he got nailed down fast. He didn't live for more than a few centuries."

Helger started to laugh and skip in a silly jig. I crossed my arms and stared at the drunk dwarf. He bearhugged me around the waist and took me for a spin.

"Oh, ho ho! Haru, my daughter! You made this silly old dwarf the happiest man in this world!"

"What are you doing, you fool? Put me down! Why are you doing this?"

"Aye, just give this silly father one more hug! There!" He let go of my waist but held onto my hand. "Haru, you don't worry. I'm never letting any man touch you, ever!" He delivered with a shit-eating grin.

"The fuck, old man! What changed? Did you finally lose it after knowing my true self?"

He recovered his breath and calmed down but the smile was there to stay. "Haru, why do fathers marry their daughters?"

"To see them happy?" I tried. At least that's what Earth-me imagined he would do.

He shook his head but the grin kept there, plastered to his face like some Alien born from an egg in a horror sci-fi movie. "Nay, to keep their legacy alive."

"Explain, please," I took a seat. This must be some dwarven nonsense.

"No father wants to give away their precious little girls, ever!" He stated as if that was the utter truth of the universe, the Unifying Theory that eluded Dr. Albert Einstein all his life.

"Okay? So what?"

"No craftsman wants to be bothered by stupid apprentices. But both do because someone needs to keep their legacy alive. What a master craftsman dreads more than death is dying without passing on their knowledge. They need wives, sons, daughters, apprentices. We set time apart from the forge to nurture those because we need to pass our legacy, our knowledge, our techniques."

"I still don't get it."

"But you, you are forever! What I teach you will never be lost," the fierce [Blacksmith]'s eyes sparkled with determination. "Aww, I don't want to answer the summons now!"

I had no idea if I should feel flattered or offended that the prospect of not grinding all the knowledge of the Stouthammer Style of martial-blacksmithing-arts onto the clan successor immediately was the thing that made him stop smiling. And I'd jinxed it again.

"Why don't we go together? Didn't they summon all dwarves?" No way in hell I would let him go alone now.

I knew my suggestion was a good compromise and that he was inclined to agree but he shook his head, "You're going to miss school."

I deadpanned, "Father, I can go to Pekothas and back in a few minutes. I'm not going to miss a single class at the Academy."

He thought for a while, then agreed. "Then at the first light of dawn, we shall go and knock some sense on those separatist fools!"

We talked a bit more about what I could expect there, especially about my biological grandfather. At the first sign of a yawn, I made the rugged blacksmith go to his room and retired for the day.

The battle for Windemere's future had started. And the first ones to act were the foolish dwarves.