Farin tugged at the shoulders of her dress, trying unsuccessfully to even it out. She could hear Koll trying not to laugh.

"This is why I don't wear these ridiculous things," she said.

He gave up trying to hold his laughter in. "You had it right an hour ago."

The ohr-tempus stopped and they stepped off the stage. Koll went the opposite way as Farin. "Where are you off to?" she said playfully.

"To Chieftain Brann's chambers, of course."

"The steward said to go west, then west by south. You're heading due north, my love."

"The ohr-tempus rotated," he replied, "this is west."

"Rotated?" She was confused, as she had felt no change in the direction of the stage.

"Trust me," he said. She raised an eyebrow, then followed him. Surely as a bear relieved itself in the woods, they went directly to Chieftain Brann's private chambers.

"How did you... " She stopped herself. She knew what the answer would be. He learned to sense subtle movement in the Underguard, she thought to herself in his voice. Everything he did anymore, he had to mention what he'd learned in the Underguard. "I'm sure they'd take you back, since you miss them so much" she'd say, partially in jest. Truth be told, she'd quickly grown tired of him speaking of his time with the doomed. One would think he'd never want to mention that time for as long as he lived, especially now that he was reunited with her and Nava.

Koll rang the bell to Urum Brann's chambers. She strained her ears to listen for footfalls, but heard nothing. "Did they not hear?"

"I imagine his chambers are vast," Koll said, "and his steward likely has a ways to travel."

"But we would hear him approaching. I hear nothing. Ring the bell again, my love." My love. She said it to mask her impatience. Being a citadel smith was a dream Farin never thought to wake to, and to have a private audience with Chieftain Brann himself... The last thing she wanted was for Koll to spoil the evening with boring details of the Underguard. She reached for the bell, but he caught her hand.

"Farin," he said, "the man is on his way, I assure you. Do you want to appear impatient to Chieftain Brann?"

She lowered her hand. "No," she acquiesced. "How do you know the man is coming though? We'd hear him, or at least feel the fall of his feet."

"Not through this stonework. The walls and floors are thick here."

"Did you learn that in the Underguard?" Her voice was harsher than she'd intended.

"No," he said, wounded, "Buri pointed it out to me, when we first arrived. You were there, but you were distracted."

"I was?" She honestly did not remember. "I'm sorry, my love."

"I'd prefer you showed me love, rather than call me it."

His words cut deep, as did the pain in his voice. How dare he? After all I've suffered while he was gone? The door opened before she could speak. The steward was old and his right eye was was covered in a patch with a scar peaking outside its edges. He had a hooked nose, golden hair and a slightly darker beard, and wore a rich green robe. The man bowed low and long, then greeted them kindly when he rose. "My Master eagerly awaits.".

Chieftain Brann was dressed in as fine of garb as Farin had ever seen. He wore a black coat with a silver collar, deep indigo breeches, and a silver belt set with amethysts and diamonds each the size of a thumb. He wore a tunic of fine silver rings, so small and tightly woven they appeared almost as fabric. Farin's eyes widened at the sight of the shirt. She was so taken aback by it that she failed to notice their Chieftain had greeted them. "Forgive me," she said as she bowed. Titans curse you Koll, she fumed to herself. I can't think straight after those words he said. Did he want to throw me off balance? Does he want to be Chieftain Brann's focus? I'm the citadel smith, I'm the reason we were brought to live here.

"There's nothing to forgive," said the Chieftain. Farin had yet to become accustomed to the man's voice. It was low and deep, and shockingly clear, yet had a hollow quality, like a cave deep in the earth filled with nothing but stone. "The shirt is eye catching, is it not?"

Farin nodded. "I've never seen its make, Chieftain."

"No one has. It's mannarim." He ran his hands down the length of it. It rippled like silk, and the light of the crystals lining the hall danced like an explosion of stars off its minute rings. Chieftain Brann snapped his fingers, and two porters came with a pair of covered trays. They removed the covers, and on one was a silver dagger, and the other a silver smithing hammer. The light from the sconces gleamed off of them, and it seemed there was a slight aura of gold that flashed around them from time to time.

"Are those... " she couldn't finish her sentence.

"Yours," said Brann, "yes. And they are also mannarim. Please accept them. The kingdom owes you a tremendous debt, and no amount of words will undo the damage caused by your time apart."

"Thank you," Koll said, "Chieftain, thank you. All debts are paid, all grievances forgotten. With these gifts, we are in your debt."

He's so eloquent, Farin thought, glad that he spoke when he did. Koll too had a noteworthy voice, and he used it well. The Chieftain smiled broadly, then again snapped his fingers. The porters disappeared and he led them to his dining hall. The room was tall and lit with crystals of pale blue and rushlights of green salted flame. The walls were engraved with scenes of Konistra's past. Alden Gace raising his banner on Cavanal Hill, Narvi standing by his side with Norad'Dor Stonearrow and King Gomani of the Araad. There were battles Farin was unfamiliar with, a pair of snakes entwined about each other, and mythic beasts warring in the skies. On his ceiling was a man and woman, both naked, human in shape but winged. They were holding each other with their lips locked in a lover's kiss, and the man was thrusting a spear into the woman's breast with his right hand. The woman’s hair was a furious burst of serpents and fiery arrows, and starlight came from her wound..

"Imanna and Orvar," the Chieftain said. "It's a rare depiction, carved long before my time. There's only one other scene of them so entwined in all Konistra. It's in Ronehelm, in the Great Hall of the High Kings. Rumor has it ours came first, though I’m sure High King Talan Tharne would debate that."

"The craftsmanship is truly singular," Koll said. He was moving about the room and looking at the carving from every angle, commenting on the precision of the cuts, the smoothness of the Titans' skin, and the palpable emotion in their faces. Once again, Farin was glad he was speaking. He knows not to drone on about the doomed here. She began to lament her harsh thoughts toward him earlier.

“How are your lodgings?” the Chieftain asked.

“Wonderful!” Farin blurted, eager for a chance to speak to Urum Brann.

The Chieftain smiled. “Good. Most apartments in the citadel have windows, hot water piped into the baths, and many other extravagances. There was some activity on the mountainside and all the empty chambers had to be sealed off. Hopefully you won’t be in those squalid inner rooms for long.”

Farin saw a thing that shocked her. On the wall by the hearth were the pyramid of the Fell, the six pointed star of the Exi, and the divided hexagon of the Novians. Brann must have seen her looking at the crests. “I am Chieftain of all guilds,” he said, “and so I must embrace all three orders.” Farin nodded. “We joined the Fell a few years before…” her voice trailed off.

“It’s difficult to speak of, isn’t it?” Brann asked. “You will not be riven from one another again, so long as I can help it.”

“Is this table igdrus wood?” Koll asked. Farin sighed with relief at the change in the topic and looked at the dining table. It was indeed igdrus wood, hard as iron and polished like glass. Instead of stone, the trestles were made of black jade, and the chairs they were to sit on were oak. Farin was reeling within herself at the opulence of Brann’s apartments.

The bell outside the door rang again, and Farin saw how far Chieftain Brann's steward had to walk.

"There's people who must meet you," Brann said, "people who you will both be working with closely."

Two men and one woman entered the room. Chieftain Brann embraced them each warmly, and from the way they spoke it was clear they were intimately acquainted. The woman and younger of the two men were married. It seemed as if they were family with the Chieftain. Farin wanted this. She saw herself and Koll entering the Chieftain's apartments slightly late for a feast, and being the old friends he greeted warmly and introduced to the latest initiates into his circle. He would compliment her on her gown and jewelry, and tell Koll what a fortunate man he was to have her as his wife.

The woman's name was Gelfi, and she was everything Farin admired and wanted to be. She was graceful, wealthy, famously skilled, and married to a man of influence. While they ate the first round of dinner, a spread of fruits from the Araad, cheeses from Corn Hill, and ostrich eggs from the Nazrad steppes, Farin learned that Gefi had amassed a large network of merchant contacts by posing as a novice iron monger, dominating low level markets, then selling her profitable shops to mid tier investors for low prices on the grounds that they would follow her business model strictly. With so many merchants indebted to her, there was little she did know of market trends within the lower guilds. This had made her invaluable to their Chieftain, and had caught the eye of Vanir, her husband.

“He’s a procurer of essentials,” Gelfi said. “He doesn’t deal in glamorous wares, but where would our realm be without the vast stores of staple foods, basic tools, nails, and timbers he brings in?”

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Vanir smiled slightly and seemed to turn flush. “My wife takes sick pleasure in embarrassing me. My father was close with Chief Yormun’s. He made a name for himself bringing in nails and awls and barrels for next to nothing. He never made much coin, but he made a very powerful friend. I’ve merely built upon his foundation, and I’ve been fortunate at every turn.”

“Fortunate,” his wife said, “to have such drive and cunning.” She turned to Farin and Koll. “No one negotiates like Vanir.”

“In the trade of bulk wares, maybe.” Vanir seemed determined to downplay his accomplishments. Koll does the same, Farin thought. She turned to her husband and placed her hand on his arm. The steely sinews beneath his velvet robe caused a wave of warmth to rise within her. She coughed lightly before speaking. “Before Koll and I became partners, I only sold one suit of maille a month. Then he offered to consign my goods, and I couldn’t keep up with the orders coming in.”

Vanir looked on Koll. He had a kind face, with a plain, grey beard, long hair tied in a tight knot behind his head, and deep lines of laughter worn into the corners of his eyes. “Were you not so unjustly maligned, you would doubtless have found your way up here years ago.”

The room went silent, and Koll took her hand in his. “You honor me, Vanir. Since I’ve returned, I’ve been shown much love and kindness. I doubt I’ll ever forget the time I spent in the underlands, but the time I have now has been made very sweet.”

“Of course you’ll never forget that time,” said the other dwarf. Farin had already forgotten his name and position. He was an ancient man with a bald head and a single white braid hanging from his chin. “And you shouldn’t try to forget those years. They hardened you, made you fierce. I saw those men striking you in Ormazum. You’d have taken more note if a flea had landed on your collar. You only cared for your daughter’s safety, not your own, and you had no reason to fear for yourself. You could have slaughtered the whole lot of those fools barehanded. It was I who sent word to our Chieftain of the riot, and it was I who counseled him to lift you out of the sod vats of Ormazum. What chance have those wilted honeysuckles have against a man like you? I lost a son to the doomed. I paid a fortune to send spies, goblins and drow, to go down there and report to me how he fared. He was dead within the year, and it was a mercy. You languished down there, Ladhu, but I have yet to hear you winge over the matter. Not one complaint have you uttered. We didn’t ascend you to the citadel to spare you from those jealous fools, we’re sparing them from you.”

Farin’s stomach sank. They don’t even want me. Chieftain Brann cleared his throat. “Brunnr speaks bluntly, but true. Vanir is not wrong, either. You both have tremendous talent. You don’t earn a special name like the Iron Maiden by being a middling armorer, and paired with a gifted monger such as you, Koll, you and Farin were bound to work your way up the tiers.”

Farin’s heart calmed when the Chieftain spoke of her smithing prowess, but it wasn’t long before a wave of guilt washed over her heart. Why did I not rejoice when that old man praised Koll? What kind of woman am I? I’ve got him back against all hope, and he’s being honored not only for what he’s suffered, but what he’s achieved, and I dare to feel jealous?

The Chieftain spoke again, his tone completely devoid of humor. “I wish I could offer both of you a life of ease, but I brought you here to put you both to work.”

“Anything for the guild!” Farin blurted. Koll smiled and squeezed her hand.

“You two are through with the guild,” said Brann, “from now on you work directly for the throne, and for me. You’ve no doubt heard of the goblin army pouring into the dim roads.”

Koll spoke up. “We’ve heard talk of a fairly large force, but nothing alarming.”

“That’s the talk of Ormazum. The truth, is that the entire armed force of Goblin Town has made its way up the valley of souls, scaled the shadow cliffs, and spread like worms through the Starwood. There’s now close to one hundred thousand gathered near our eastern and north eastern gates. Voligond has been sealed from the outside, and I have masons shoring it up quietly from within. The Red Spears are filling the roads to Yorumgond with explosives and caltrops to slow the armies approach, but we will not prevent them from breaching at least one of our gates.”

“But,” Koll stammered, “our army is strong, and vast. We could easily take them, even without recruiting supplementary forces.”

“Supplementary recruits are all we have,” said the old man.

“You’ve come back to us in dire times,” said Vanir. Gelfi was looking at Farin with care on her face. The sense of worry in the room was palpable. “What happened to our army?” she asked, looking from face to face.

“I have something to ask of you,” the Chieftain said, “and depending on your answer, we may have to cut our feast short. You will remain in the citadel, and serve with honor, but I need to be assured of your discretion before I say any more.”

“You have anything you ask of us,” Farin said. Koll was silent for a moment, then he nodded his agreement.

“Our army is dying,” the Chieftain said plainly.

Farin looked to Koll, and Koll to her, then back to Urum Brann. “Dying?” they said together. “How?” asked Koll.

“We don’t know,” said Gelfi. “ Somehow they’ve been poisoned. Prince Lobuhl accused the humans, but the King banished him for doing so.”

Farin’s jaw dropped. “Prince Lobuhl is banished?”

“He’s one of our strongest warriors,” said Koll, “and one of our finest captains. To banish him at a time like this… has the King…” his voice trailed off.

“Pissed out his wits?” said the ancient dwarf, “Yes. What wits he had. You’ll find little love for Grar in this room, boy. I hope that doesn’t frighten you.”

“I have enduring love for Grar,” said the Chieftain, “but his actions have been difficult to understand of late. As soon as our smiths were able to craft mannarim into a simple object, Grar gave Prince Balvor leave to gift a necklace of it to Princess Idana. King Salimod discovered the necklace’s make, as we all knew he would, and he informed agents of all the other kins, as we knew he would. Now we are besieged by the largest force gathered in the history of our world, and someone has discovered, and deployed, a toxin potent enough to kill us. We are almost defenseless, almost. We have one chance.”

“Mannarim,” Farin and Koll said it together. Urum Brann nodded slowly.

Vanir leaned forward over the table. “Our Chieftain has had the best smiths in the citadel working day and night to equip the Stoneguard and the Sunderers with as much mannarim gear as we can. We’ve no one to spare to make equipment for our captains and the royal family.”

“I managed one complete suit of maille,” Brann said, “and as Brunnr said, our King’s decisions have been questionable. The only weapons we made were given as gifts to a Janissary detachment.”

Farin pressed her palm against her forehead. I’ve had my fill of Grar Narhim. “Is mannarim difficult to forge?” she asked.

“Exceedingly,” Brann replied, “which is why you are here, Iron Maiden. The full suit of maille is fitted for Prince Ror. No one in the kingdom is more loved, and I’m glad he’ll have the finest armor in the world when he leads the Gatebreakers to victory. We still need to protect the rest of the royal family. Halfur, Klar, little Yemi, I won’t have them harmed, or our Queen. And even Balvor, who put the kingdom at risk in the first place. Now, I encourage those close to me to speak their minds and have their own hearts on all matters, and so I dare to profess my love for my King and friend. I’ve known Grar a long time. Whatever foolishness has recently taken him, he does not deserve to die for it. But sadly, we have too little time. Mannarim is slow to smelt and slower to shape. What I ask of you, Farin, is to craft armor for the family from a hybrid alloy of mannarim and other metals.”

“What other metals?” Farin asked.

“Mostly iron and tin,” said Brunnr.

“Iron and tin? Why those two metals?”

“For two reasons,” said Brann, “one, we have iron coming out of our ears in this mountain. As to why blend those two particular ores, the answer is to fool the king. Pure mannarim glows with a sort of bronze, coppery light. It looks gold in the sun, but down here even trace elements of copper imitate the glow well enough. The amount of mannarim in the alloy will give each suit tremendous strength at a fraction of the weight of steel. The line of Narhim will be protected, and you’ll be the one they thank. Will you this for me, Iron Maiden? Will you help me protect my friends?”

Koll spoke before she could answer. “Could you not simply tell the King you had to blend the metals to save time? The plan sounded reasonable enough to me.”

“As I said,” Brann was patient man, fortunately, “I’ve known Grar a long time. He is making little sense, and less every day. He grows more and more desperate as the assault nears. To be completely honest with you, I don’t trust him to make the right decision. I’m doing this, whether he’d agree with me or no, because I know it to be the right course to take. When you serve a king as closely as I do, you quickly learn they’re just men.”

Koll nodded. “We’re yours to command, Chieftain Brann.” Farin sighed with relief. “May I offer a suggestion?”

“Of course.”

“Bring the doomed into the fight. Bid Chief Yormun to send Valung the demands, if you doubt the King’s powers of reason.”

Farin’s stomach tightened, and even Brann seemed agitated. “Aha,” he said, oddly amused, “as if circumstances weren’t stacked high enough against us. I’d thought of that very thing, and you’re right to suggest I consult Gund, rather than Grar. Sadly, the doomed are indisposed.”

Farin looked quickly to Koll. His eyes were narrowed into slits. “Indisposed?” he asked, incredulous.

Brunnr laughed. “Valung’s betrayed us again!”

“You don’t know that, Brunnr,” said Gelfi.

“How could he even know the goblins are approaching?” asked Vanir.

“Could he?” Farin asked, looking intently at her husband.

Koll was silent for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought. He’s giving so much thought to how he replies, Farin thought. He’s such a wise man. I’m so glad he’s back with us. Imanna must have sent him. Orvar shot Ror from his quiver instead of an arrow, and the Fire Mother sent us Koll instead of her flames.

“Valung hates King Grar,” Koll said at length, “but he loves Thrond. He could know of the goblin attack. But if the doomed is, indisposed as you say, then they’re likely being attacked themselves. I could not imagine Valung betraying the kingdom over his grudge with King Grar.”

“I tend to agree with you,” said Brann.

“So what do you wish of me? My wife won’t need me to procure her materials, or sell what she crafts, and I’m no smith.”

“No,” said Brunnr, “you’re a warrior.”

Farin’s heart froze. No. You can’t take him from me, not again. Koll looked to her. The moment her eyes met his she knew there was no other way. He turned back to Chieftain Brann and nodded. He’s so brave. A thought struck Farin. “Chieftain,” she said, “may I ask one favor?”

“You may ask.”

“Let me make Koll a suit of mannarim. I’ll forge it on my own time, at night before I go to bed. I’ll use whatever alloy you can spare.”

Urum Brann smiled, then exchanged looks with Brunnr, Vanir and Gelfi. They all smiled. “Make him a suit of pure mannarim,” said the Chieftain, “and a weapon as well. I’ll provide you with the material, and a couple of smart young boys to help with the rest of your work.”

Farin couldn’t believe it, and from the look on his face, neither could Koll. “Chieftain,” Farin said, rising from her seat and bowing low, “we are your loyal servants, from now until we find the hidden door.”

“And may that take you both a very long time,” said Urum Brann.