I left the mayors house, heading to my apartment. Rounding the corner of my building I mentally sifted through all of the things that happened today. Trying to figure out next steps, order events in a way I could make sense of what was happening. All those thoughts got thrown into disarray as my mind tried to make sense of the scene in front of me.

All of my belongings were piled up outside of my door. Looking at it baffled I tried the door and found it locked. My key wouldn’t open it. I headed up to the landlady’s. Knocking at Arla’s door a couple times got no response. I knocked again, rubbing my hands together as the evening cool started to creep into them. There was still no response. Shaking my head in confusion I turned, gathered some essentials out of the pile of my stuff and headed toward the poor sector.

A scruffy dwarf hailed me heartily as he wandered into the area. “Hey, Baz! What’re ya bringin to us this evenin?” I smiled at my old friend. “Myself apparently, Budor.” “Ya don’t say?” Budor responded cocking his head and regarding me. “So the townsfolk get tired of a troublesome halfer?” Budor had known I was a half-elf the first time he had seen me and at the time I wore an illusion to hide it. From him ‘halfer’ was a mark of familiarity allowed due to friendship. Actually I’m not sure what I would do if the crusty old bastard didn’t raz me in some way when we met. It all boils down to intent. “I honestly don’t know. I got back tonight and my stuff was outside my apartment and I can’t unlock the door. I guess I’ve overstayed my welcome.” I said shrugging, confused and angry. “Was coming back to see if my old crash pad was open.” Frustration making that come out more petulantly than I intended.

The poor sector was a shanty town where you found or built your own shelter. There was no ownership here that the law would protect. In fact, this was an area that caused me some frustration with the Mayor who seemed to want to ignore the poor sector. Perhaps he thought if he ignored it and covered it up enough, it wouldn’t exist. I spent a good amount of time with these people, in fact this is where I started when I came into this town.

Budor, glanced at me. “You made that spot highly desirable. It’s clean and well built. You even put some style in it. Looks nice inside ‘n out. It’s taken now. How bout you stay with us for tonight?” motioning to the sheltered hole around the side of the rock that he and 2 other dwarves called home. I should have known my spot would be taken. I remember feeling pride over the competition over my place when I left. My mind was just reeling from all the stuff that happened today and I wasn’t thinking clearly.

My shoulders sagged in the realization that I really didn’t have anywhere else to go. Even so sharing a hole in the ground with three dwarves definitely was not something I looked forward to, but prepping a spot in the poor quarter at this hour that didn’t leave me exposed to the elements was unlikely. Especially if I plan to get any patrolling in tonight. At least that would limit my time snuggled up in a small dirt hole to three snoring dwarves. With this chilling image in mind, my brain spat up a last line of defense while it scrambled for other options “Thank you but I thought your hole was reserved for dwarves only.” I said. As I said it alien thoughts bubbled up “Interesting way to think of a friend trying to help you when others have put in you a bad position.” Budor gave me a speculative look “I’m thinkin yer other ‘alf is dwarf.” The dwarf replied with a wink. His expression sobered as he continued “Ya dun a lotta good fer the folk aroun here. I would be shamed ta leave ya out in the cold. ‘sides, we’ve picked up summa yer recipes from the nights you come round to help feed the lot round here. It’s only fair.”

I nodded to him feeling ashamed. I braced myself for a rough night but at least I would spend it with friends. I had gotten used to ignoring the spirit follower I couldn’t seem to lose but for once, it was right. I wandering around the rock, getting ready to crawl through the hole.

The entrance to the dwarven lair was little more than a hole in the hillside. Budor had to stoop to go through it, so I definitely could not enter it walking. Pushing my clothing through ahead of me, I crawled forward through a rough hole bordered by large rounded rocks into a dark pocket in the ground. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, my ability to see in the dark picked out that it was a small pocket in the earth, smaller than I would’ve thought actually.

Budor was had preceded me to the other wall, opening a door that looked like a large rock embedded in the wall. At a push of Budor’s hand the stone swung silently open. Beyond it a large, well-lit room opened up before me. Budor hollered to his two companions “Baz is gonna be stayin with us! ‘E’s needin some ‘elp gettin ‘is stuff from in front of ‘is place”. I crawled forward a bit more when three sets of dwarven hands grabbed me and pulled me the rest way through the door, helping me stand up in the larger room. Guntle and Aggie headed out the door I had just been pulled through. As they left they closed the door effectively plugging the hole entirely.

I stood there gaping and looking around in wonder, amazed I could stand and at the size of the room. “Ya look surprised lad! Ya spect we’ve been huddling in what would amount to an animal den?” I scratched my head feeling more than a little embarrassed, “Well, I guess I kind of did.” Budor laughed cheerily “No proper dwarf would live in the ground and not make it ‘is ‘ome. Ta be fair though, it’s good ta ‘ear. It’s what we want ‘em thinkin.”

“We did figure we might need ta ‘ouse some larger folk one day, plus we just like some room above us really.” He waved above at the ceiling which was high enough that I was comfortable. “Like ‘umans in that respect I guess.” Budor shrugged, glancing my way. “This is the common room. Mainly use it ta make offerins to the mountain lord.” He said motioning to a shrine that covered one entire wall.

The detail on the shrine far surpassed any other mountain shrine that I’d seen. From a distance all of these shrines look like a mountain. As you get closer you can make out the detail of a large man sitting cross-legged that makes up the mountain. The poorer shrines stop there. Others the man’s body will hold some smaller images, extolling the wealth and dangers of the mountain. This one even his large beard held images within them of men, deep dwelling creatures, some victims of landslides or cave ins, other holding aloft prizes such as gems and metals, each of which were actually inlaid gems and precious metals. I realized there were even images in between, giants and dragons which were made up of the smaller images and made up the image of the larger Mountain Lord. In the lap of the Mountain lord was a hollowed out platter, also adorned with all manner of creatures detailing it that served as an offering plate for those that would give tribute to the Mountain Lord. I had a feeling that there were other images I was missing, even more subtle and complex.

“Spirits Budor! This is glorious!” I breathed. I reached for my coin pouch emptying about half its meager contents into the bowl in way of thanks and recognition of the incredible craftsmanship. “Thank ya, Baz. Kids these days, so full o’ themselves. Lookin to prove ‘ow self-sufficient they are, ‘ow they stand up on their own and need nu’in from no one. They don’t take the time to understand where they came from and ‘ow they got to where they could stand up on their own. Too busy runnin away from a past that they think shames ‘em I guess.” Budor glanced at Baz.

“We ‘aven’t forgotten. The Mountain Lord was once beseeched! And in return for proper respect, gave this village a place to be. A way to make money too. A way that gave Silveren its name.” Still awed by the statue, I almost reflexively parroted what I had heard in a soft voice “But then he took it all away, didn’t he? What did they do to cause that?” Budor’s gruff harrumph shocked me out of contemplation of ancient history. I turned and looked to the dwarf but Budor had turned away. Shaking his head he waved for me to follow as he headed down a corridor.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The dwarf tromped through the stone hall, pointed to a door. “Yer room!” I thanked him and entered the room. The bed was a stone platform that raised from the floor and had wooden drawers that pulled out of stone framework below it. There was a mattress that hung from hooks on the wall. The walls around had open niches forming shelves all around the room. Turning to walk out I was interrupted by a knock at the door. Answering it I found Guntle and Aggie loaded down with the rest of my worldly belongings. “Ah… Just set em down. I’ll take care of them shortly. Thank you so much for bringing my stuff” I said. The two of them stepped in and placed everything on the floor near the door. They didn’t say anything, just smiled, or at least it’s the motion in their beards that I’ve come to associate with smiling. They nodded and backed out of the room, heading down the hall.

Pushing the stuff to the side I stepped out and headed back outside. Budor stood past the boulder where he could often be found. There was a fire going and he had the massive pot on it. In the poor sector the group pooled resources for food. The dwarves and I had taken on the brunt of supplying the actual food and coordinating the effort, adding things others trapped or found out in the wilds. The dwarves had this system in place long before I showed up. They requested people bring them supplies, took those and worked with the people to craft specific items in return for knowing there was a regular dinner and full belly at the end of the day. People who society had tossed aside or just flat out ignored found themselves busy, and as things progressed they learned skills, started taking pride in themselves and found the self-worth that society had worked to steal from them. Many left for other towns to start over once they realized they had a craft they could peddle. Some stayed, networking to help other newbies get resources. The old timers lived in buildings they had thrown up, often with knowledge learned from the dwarves. They weren’t mansions, but they were comfortable shelter.

Not everyone that came through was a gem waiting to be polished, granted. That thought got me to thinking about how I was when I first arrived. I had set up a network within the poor sector. Being a successful hunter and pretty decent cook, if I had to say so myself, I would supply hearty meats or even cook up meals that would leave Aggie asking about how I got those flavors. People courted my favor. They wanted extra meat, wanted to learn things from me like how to hunt. I used that. I had favorites in the poor sector that I would ask to bring me information on any transients in the village that were possible target dupes and reward them. We didn’t get many visitors way out here but when we did I knew about them. I would find these targets and attempt to pass off trinkets I had created with a bit of an item and some magic for a bit of coin. The item would last through the day and could have some pretty fine detail. If I managed to pass off a temporary trinket to one of these suckers I would make sure that the one told me about them got some preferential treatment. In short I was a con artist. I wasn’t out to put anyone in the poor house. I did not charge tremendously for my trinkets. I guess it was my way of striking back at people that were part of the structure that caused my pain and the pain of the people around me.

I remembered the day that had come to an end. I had been cooking up a deer from my hunting, determined to create something incredible that the group would talk about for a good while. A ladies voice called out to me “Now that smells pretty amazing.” Turning to respond my voice caught at my first sight of a woman that regarded me with a blank expression and the uniform of a guard. I recognized her as one of the two elite guards for the mayor. Concentrating a moment I could see two small grey spirits riding high on her forehead like horns. She had powers and from her expression she was probably utilizing them. Beside her was a lithe man I also recognized as the other elite guards. Curiously I noted he had numerous wineskins slung over his shoulders. Both were in their guard leathers though, with weapons at their belts.

As the decision to run hit she spoke again. “Would be a shame to waste all that effort and food that these people need and would appreciate.” That stopped me in my tracks. I really did hate to abandon this meal and while the guard was at my door and felt I was worth using powers on, they hadn’t been openly aggressive. In fact their stances were relaxed, no weapon drawn. I decided to play this out a bit, see where it went. “What do you want?” I asked, still determining whether flight was best or not. She sat down. The man beside her took her lead and sat down as well. She said “We brought some drink for everyone that will go well with your food. In return we simply want you to come talk to the mayor.” “Do I have a choice?” I asked, returning my attention to the cooking. “You always have a choice.” She said. “I would personally appreciate it if you chose to come with us.”

Ah, that was a really great meal. I thought, belly grumbling at the memory of gastric bliss. The wine they brought complimented it terrifically too. It’s a meal that they still talk about as a measure for good meals there. For being poor, they get some pretty fantastic cooking. Aggie and I took good care of our people, even teaching our cooking to those who had an interest. Aggies not only a darn good cook, he’s an incredible teacher.

The resulting meeting with the mayor had seen me forgiven for an old crime, convicted of a new one, accepting a new job reporting the towns goings on using the methods I had in place to identify targets and keep alert. I was cleared of the new crime by accepting said job. It took me a few weeks to get over being caught so neatly. I even thought a couple times of running, but I wasn’t in a terrible spot. Plus, when I got bitter enough to leave, Nikki had come offering to sweeten the deal, pulling me into the watch, something I didn’t even know I wanted.

I got training sessions with her and the other elite. A place to stay, outside of the poor area. I have to admit, it’s gotten to feel like home, I thought, shaking my head in confusion as to why I was turned out of my apartment so abruptly. I feel that in some ways I’ve gotten soft, on these people, on the town. At some point I stopped looking at the people around me as targets or possible accomplices, I thought wondering when that actually happened. At the same time I had to admit my skills were honing even further. My fighting skills, while pretty good, were never this good, which was due to having skilled fighters to spar with.

Budor interrupted my thoughts. “Yer lookin a bit too elvish there. Pensive folk, those elves.” I grinned at him. “Yea. They are at that.” I said. “I’m heading out to do some patrolling.” Budor’s expressions sobered. “Careful out there, son. This ain’t the first time this town ‘as seen this kinda activity. Got right bloody last time. Left scars that linger on the town to this day.” Budor said, shaking his head, the firelight playing shadows strangely across his face.

I had forgotten or rather overlooked that Budor had been a fixture in this town for as long as anyone knew. “Really? Anything in that tale that would help me now?” I asked stepping toward the dwarf. Budor stirred the pot glancing around to see if any were close enough to hear, seeing it was clear he continued. “It were a predecessor of Evan Grishaw afore. ‘is namesake even. Evan Grishaw walked the day a grim, sour man. At night ‘e worked ‘is power o’er the dead. Bringing things back that were powerful, all the while hidin, yellin fer protection, the devious bastard!

I know a bit about our Grim. ‘e’s bitter, but ‘e’s got a right to be bitter. I don’t wish any worse on the kid. ‘es naught but a victim. A victim of a past wrought by his past namesake. Watch ‘im though. ‘is ancestor ‘ad everyone fooled until almost too late.” “I’ve heard bits and snippets about this.” I said “A dread that walked the night. Ended in one of the Silversmith boys dyin saving the town, right?” I asked. Budor gave me an odd glance, then nodded. I continued “Wasn’t sure if it was a story to keep the kids in at night or if there were a grain of truth to it.”. “More’n a grain” Budor grunted dourly, staring into the stew as he stirred it, though it looked like he was seeing something other than stew.