“Hey, short stack. You finished for the day?” I asked as I walked through the open door of Norey’s Smithy and wares. It was a bright and beautiful day outside with nary a cloud in the sky, but you wouldn’t know it from the soot blackened windows, filthy floor, and the sullen aura of hostility emitted by the annoyed shopkeeper who despised dealing with his customers.

“Ah, a height joke in reference to my status as a dwarf. Truly the scales of hilarity have tipped,” said the disdainful voice of the owner of the place; a gray-haired fellow with a magnificent beard by the name of Norey, who, yes, was a dwarf. The fantasy sort.

“I’m trying out jocularity. Isn’t it great? I feel good about it,” I replied as I leaned against the shop’s counter to take a gander at his wares. “Woof, I see you and the boys have been really cooking out back. These new toys look exquisite.”

“Keep your hands off the glass, you barbaric dolt, I just cleaned it last month,” he snapped. “Don’t go smudging everything with your uncouth fingers!”

“My apologies,” I said. “I’m just stunned by the amazing quality at display here. Absolutely gorgeous. If dwarves were a thing where I came from, I’d have done all my shopping through you.”

“If dwarves were a thing where you came from, your smart lip would see you walking home with a limp,” Norey said gruffly. He sounded unfriendly, but I could tell from a slight pinkening of the tips of his ears that he was pleased by my compliment.

He reached for one of the swords he kept in the display case and tossed it to me. “What do you think of it?” he asked.

The balance of the weapon felt superb. As soon as I caught it, it felt like a natural extension of my hand. The edge was keen, and at a touch, I could feel the high-quality of the steel it was forged from and knew that this was a sword that wouldn’t easily break. It was the epitome of a blacksmith’s art.

A perfect implement of fatal violence.

“I think that if I owned this blade, I would happily kill so many people just so I could marvel at the sight of it being drenched in the blood of the weak,” I said dreamily.

“With no mercy for a defeated foe?” Norey wondered.

“Not a bit,” I said with a shake of my head. “This sword isn’t something you wield simply to defeat an opponent. Why settle for a mere surrender? This is a weapon of total victory. Winning the battle’s just the beginning. The real fun comes afterwards when they can’t fight back.”

“Ha! Hahaha!” laughed Norey in response. “I knew you were a cracked nut the first time I saw you waltz in here, Stragos,” he said as he wiped a bit of sweat off his forehead with a cloth he kept in his pocket. “I said, this fancy-looking bastard has wielded a sword before. He knows what a blade’s true purpose is.”

“Mostly, I just like sticking them in people and watching their facial expressions,” I said confidentially as I handed back the sword.

“Well, what else would you do with it? Chop carrots?” the dwarf said as he spat unselfconsciously on his floor. “I get so many of those damned humans in here with too much gold in their pockets but not enough lust for the kill! They’ll see my masterful craft and go on about how lovely it is, but they just want to put it in a case and let it appreciate in value. How pathetic! If you’re not going to use it to take heads and spill out organs on the street, then what’s the point of having a sword?”

I really liked dwarves.

I discovered Norey’s smithy a few days after Pankratz and Cassie first returned to the Narrows. Although it was located a fair distance away from the other shops on the mercantile row reserved for commerce, it had no shortage of customers. Everyone from the town watch to professional hunters all the way from Gardenia itself made their way to its doors, hoping to purchase a weapon from the infamous owner.

When I managed to get inside, I was delighted to discover the existence of dwarves. I couldn’t believe they were real! A genuine non-human race that had immigrated to this world through a portal from their own monster-overrun realm. They were refugees known for their valor, their prowess at combat, and of course, their talent for smithing weaponry and armor. They were a race of independent mavericks who valued honor and hard work.

“The price is set, boy. If you don’t like it, go somewhere else,” Norey had said to a young aristocratic customer who was trying to haggle with him over the price of a silver dagger that had caught his eye.

“Isn’t there room for negotiation, old chap?” the lad said. “If you’d only bring it down, by say, fifteen gold, I’d be more than happy to take it off your hands.”

“The price is set,” Norey repeated with forced patience. “If it’s too much for your pauper’s purse then piss off! I don’t haggle!”

“Did you just call me a pauper?” asked the outraged customer. “Sir, I am not only a trained hunter, but my father is—”

“NOT HERE, is he?” asked Norey. “And if he was, I’d tell him the same thing I’m telling you. Get your frilly little feet walking out my bloody door before I use that dagger to start carving some sense into your empty head! NO, don’t you do it! Don’t you dare stand there and try to think of a retort! I won’t hear it! GET OUT RIGHT NOW! Begone! IF YOU’RE STILL HERE WHEN I COUNT TO THREE, I’LL PULL OUT YOUR BLOODY HEART AND TOSS IT INTO A LATRINE!!!”

That last bit he shouted with a beet-red face and with the thick chords on his neck popping out. The little lordling took the hint and quickly vacated the premises. As for me, I felt enraptured by the intensity of the murderous hostility that Norey exuded. My refined instincts told me that the dwarf had meant every word of his threat. Given enough time and exposure to enough furious people, you can learn to tell when someone was in a genuine killing fury.

For Norey, that was his state of being for sixteen hours a day. The other eight, he spent sleeping.

It turns out that in addition to their other admirable traits, real dwarves were hair trigger berserkers. Anything could set them off at any moment. They were walking landmines always looking for an excuse to break bones, and when given an opportunity to let loose, their rampages were the nightmarish stuff of legend.

How can you not love these guys?

Norey and I quickly hit it off. Our personalities weren’t entirely similar, but we shared many of the same interests. He was also pretty sharp. He could tell with a glance that I wasn’t quite as human as I seemed to others and that I had a bit of age to me.

“You can’t fool these eyes, Draugr,” he smirked at me one night while we shared a bottle of his homebrewed mead and stared at the beautiful moonlit sky.

“Ah, you caught me,” I said as I swilled his noxious brew.

“Ha! I knew it,” he said smugly. “The pale skin always gives it away.”

“Of course, if you tell anyone, I’ll have to kill you,” I said. “I can’t have that knowledge getting passed around.”

“Ha! Make the attempt and I’ll stake you out in the sun,” he snorted. “I’ll roast hotdogs while you burn.”

“Ha! Just try it! I’ll rip your head off and feed your remains to my dog,” I replied.

“Ha! Your fucking dog couldn’t choke me down,” he boasted.

“My dog could tear the hide off a dragon, you ignorant dung scraping,” I said, furious at Woodstock’s quality being questioned by this buffoon.

“Dogs are only good for passing shit! And so too are their owners, apparently!” Norey said contemptuously.

“Take that back before I trim your beard with a butterknife, you bloviating oaf,” I roared.

“Someone dial up Hella and tell her to expect a new wanker coming through tonight!” Norey yelled in reply.

After that, we had a bit of a tussle. It was fine, we both healed up quickly.

I won, though. No matter what that little bastard may claim.

Afterwards, we both swore oaths of friendship and loyalty as all men should do after a proper scrape, and I knew my secret was safe. Why wouldn’t it be? We were a pair of ancient fiends with an appreciation for the old ways of doing things. Our oaths, when given, were true.

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

(He was too cunning to forge a blood bond with me, though. It only made me appreciate his intelligence more.)

Now, I can’t say we’ve become the best of friends. For starters, we hadn’t known each other all that long. The two of us just clicked based on our shared experiences and our mutual annoyance with modern triviality. It was an easygoing sort of thing we shared. I’m sure many people over the years have experienced something just like it.

__

At the end of his business day, Norey closed the shop, and we sat on his roof, drinking and chatting. This time it was from a bottle of some peach flavored concoction that I’d snatched from Jamie’s house earlier. I filled him in on the day’s events, and he laughed hard when I told him about what I’d caught Pankratz and Cassie doing.

“You deserved his punch,” he snickered. “You’re what I’ve heard others call a complete hater, do you know that? They sing rhyming songs about men like you.”

“Maybe,” I said after taking a swig. “I just found them annoying, was all. Who wants that nonsense shoved in their face?”

Suddenly, Norey began belting out a few verses of a tune I’d never heard before.

“You’re a buster,

so you snitched to her mom,

better run for your life,

better pull the alarm,

when I see you.

Cuz it ain’t all right,

‘bout to catch these hands,

It’s a fight on sight!

Gonna put you in the ground,

When I see you later,

Stay off these streets,

If you a bitch ass Haaaater!”

“What the hell was that?” I asked once my stomach stopped aching from all the unexpected laughter.

“That was the untarnished voice of truth proudly proclaimed by a bold young warrior on a street corner in old California,” said Norey. “I perceived the wisdom of his words and committed his chant to memory. For hatin’ truly is a fool’s path, Kyler Stragos.”

“You’re not wrong,” I reluctantly agreed. “I don’t know. Seeing other people experience something I once desired for myself. It bothers me.”

“You need a woman in your life,” Norey said suddenly. “Women take the edge off. They keep a warrior sane.”

“I already have three wives,” I replied. “I need fewer women in my life.”

“That’s from your old existence,” he laughed. “Doesn’t being reborn count as a divorce?”

“Eh. Creating a bride is different from creating offspring,” I lamented. “The process of it gives them a bit of your soul and vice versa. I can still feel them across the void. Sometimes I can even hear their voices. I’m sure the same is true for them.”

“But your kind have no souls,” Norey said with some confusion.

“I was speaking figuratively,” I replied. “I mean to say that we’re mentally linked.”

“Ah. Then isn’t that a source of comfort?” Norey asked. “Knowing for certain that your women are safe?”

“They’ve never been mine,” I said. “Each one of them was a mistake. They’re closer to each other than they’ve ever been to me.”

“You’re a Draugr, aren’t you? Why not just put them to rest if they trouble you so?”

“I was the one who made the mistake,” I replied. “Why take it out on them? Besides I owe them each an unpayable debt.”

“For what?” scoffed Norey. “Immortality wasn’t enough?”

“Each of them gave me a child whom I destroyed,” I confessed. “Two sons and a daughter. And the rest of my trueborn, I drove away. The wounds I’ve inflicted on the hearts of my wives will never heal. I deserve their scorn.”

“Was there a just reason for such a deed?” asked Norey. “Surely it wasn’t done on a whim?”

“They each raised a flag of rebellion against me and sought my head,” I said sadly. “My…mother would not tolerate me showing leniency. If I hadn’t put them to rest, she would have taken them herself. My wives understood that I had spared them from an unthinkable fate, but they still couldn’t forgive me.”

“Your mum sounds fucking horrendous,” said the dwarf. “All the same, kin or not, why trouble yourself over the fate of the treasonous? You only gave them what they first intended for you, their father.”

“They were still my kids, Norey.”

“Your kids were fools,” he said pitilessly.

“Yeah…they were. It still hurts,” I said.

“I once shagged a goddess,” he boasted.

“You’re a filthy liar,” I said immediately.

“Not true! Not true!” he crowed. “Freya herself once came to my brothers and I, seeking to barter for the necklace Brisingamen, which was the loveliest piece of jewelry ever crafted. And let me tell you, buddy, she was willing to pay up the neck for it, if you catch my unsubtle meaning.”

“Why wouldn’t she just kill you all and take it for herself?” I wondered. “She was a goddess of war. It would have been like stepping on ants.”

“She was a goddess of fertility too, pal,” snickered Norey. “A fertility god will try anything once. Anything. And she was already curious about what dwarves could bring to the party. And guess what? She almost killed us all, anyway! Inexhaustible! Insatiable! Nearly broke us in half! We were begging for mercy by the end of it. She called us adequate when she was finished. I never felt so thrilled and ashamed in all my life! Damn fine woman, that Freya. Damn fine woman! Fuck Ragnarök for stealing her from the world. For stealing all the good ones away.”

“Ragnarök was real?” I asked. “The final battle? The twilight of the gods?”

“Aye,” he said glumly. “My people wouldn’t have fled to this place if it wasn’t. And a dozen other worlds prior. No matter where you go, there always has to be an end of days. I’m so sick of ‘em.”

“Every world has an apocalypse?” I asked. “Each and every one?”

“Where there’s life, there’s men,” Norey said. “And where there’s men, there are gods. And gods crave finality. Their sense of drama demands it. They romanticize death in a way that only immortals can. They’re drawn to it like flies to the spinner’s web. And when they go, they take everything with them.”

“I thought you liked fighting,” I said. “Wouldn’t the battle of battles appeal to your sensibilities?”

“Fighting is a pleasure,” Norey said. “But all pleasurable things must be done in moderation. What’s the point of waging a war where no one wins in the end? Where’s the profit to be had? How will you impress the women with your prowess? Fighting for its own sake is a fool’s pursuit.”

“That’s a surprisingly healthy outlook for such a notably bloodthirsty fiend,” I said admiringly.

“A Draugr that projects his inadequacies! This world is filled with mysteries,” Norey said mockingly.

A while later, I asked, “What do you think happens when we die?”

“I’ll return to the earth and rest with my honored brethren,” he said.

“How?” I asked. “Isn’t this world far removed from where you were born?”

“The earth is the earth, no matter which of its reflections you reside in,” he said unworriedly. “In death, all children are called to their true home. No wanderers are left behind.”

“That sounds comforting,” I said. “What do you think will happen to me?”

“There is no death for you. A soulless beast such as yourself will simply cease to exist,” Norey said bluntly. “Why ask such a silly thing? You already know the answer.”

“I suppose,” I said wistfully.

“There’s nothing to suppose, blood drinker,” Norey warned me. “You don’t believe otherwise, do you? If so, stop it at once. Such ruminations will surely deliver you to madness. Accept your fate and live accordingly.”

“I died in battle, though,” I said. “I perished destroying my enemies with glorious finality. If I have no soul, how did I come to this world? It should be impossible. But here I am. It’s a question that begs an answer.”

“Don’t seek it out. Not all mysteries should be solved. Just accept what you were given and pay the details no further heed,” said Norey. “Does a monster need a reason to exist?”

“But wouldn’t this make me more than a monster?” I asked.

“The moment you believe such a thing, you’ll become obsessed with proving it true,” he replied. “You’ll stop living by your own proven standards in an effort to be something you’re not. Why put yourself through such misery?”

I considered his words for a time. Then I nodded.

“You have wisdom, Norey Blackforge,” I said. “As you said, why attempt something that doesn’t benefit me? It’s a fool’s pursuit.”

“Too fucking right, lad,” he said. “Besides, any more of that navel gazing will turn your mind rotten. It’s bad enough you practice magic; Don’t be a mopey dullard as well. Elsewise, you might catch the attention of that scheming bastard, Odin.”

“Odin One-Eye, you say?” I smirked.

“Odin Wolf-Shit, I prefer,” he snickered. “If he had depth perception, maybe he could have avoided Fenrir’s bite.”

“Now who’s being a hater?” I laughed.

“Guilty as charged,” he said. “But seriously, fuck that guy.”

“Why should I be wary of him if he’s already dead?” I asked.

“Gods are tricky to begin with and there’s never been one trickier than him,” Norey said darkly. “Why should the Witch-King let such a thing as death prevent him from interfering in someone’s life?”

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” I said.

“Brother, there’s a million stories about Odin. They all end the same. You have something he wants, and through force or trickery, he takes it. His sworn brother, Loki, had the excuse of being insane. Odin was just greedy. It’s only in hindsight that one realizes how badly he fucked everyone and everything over to get his way.”

“An attitude like that will prevent you from feasting in Valhalla,” I said.

“I wouldn’t enter his halls unless it was to shit on the floor,” Norey replied.

“Oh,” I said. “Yeah, that would probably kill the mood.”

“Wouldn’t it just?” he guffawed.

__

After we finished drinking, as I was about to leave for my room at the tavern, I asked Norey if he wanted to come along when we raided the fracture.

“Not a chance,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll do nothing that benefits that witch.”

“Jamie?” I asked. “Why not?”

“What’d we just talk about, Draugr?” he asked. “That skill of hers. That eye of appraisal. From which god do you think such a devious power would hail?”

“She gained it from the system like all ascended do,” I said.

“So, she believes. But I won’t take the chance,” Norey said stubbornly. “It wouldn’t be beneath the old witch-king to spread his gifts to unwitting subordinates and to gain the fruits of their knowledge thereby. That’s a plan his cunning mind would conceive.”

“You really hate Odin, huh?” I asked.

“And anything that reminds me of him,” he confirmed. “You should be wary too. You trust her too easily.”

“I like her quite a bit,” I said. “And one could argue that I’ve been too quick to trust you, as well.”

“You and I have sworn old oaths,” he replied. “What bond has the Witch of Appraisal sworn with you? What are you to her except a means of convenience?”

“I’m her friend,” I said simply. “And until she proves unworthy, I’ll stay as such.”

“That may happen sooner than you think,” Norey said. “Here. Take this for when that unhappy day arrives.”

He suddenly tossed me the sword from earlier. I caught it reflexively and looked at him with some confusion. “What’s this mean?”

“Keep it,” Norey said dismissively. “I forged that blade years ago, only to learn it has a troublesome nature. Every man I sell it to eventually returns it, complaining of its hateful will. Tame it if you can. It might keep your mind from idle preoccupations.”

“It doesn’t speak, does it?” I asked. “I’ve had my fill of weapons that speak.”

“No. If it talked, I would have taken it back to my forge and smashed it,” Norey said. “Talking weapons are a derangement.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” I agreed. “All right, I’ll accept your gift. Has this blade a name?”

“None,” he said.

“Then I shall call him Spiteful. And I’ll be certain to put him to ill use.”

“Good,” said Norey with a pleased voice. “I think he’d like that.”

The next morning, Rachel, Woodstock, and I joined Cassie and Pankratz to raid the fracture.

We had an interesting time.