Faraldo’s POV, immediately after the meeting with Angus

“What was. . . Do you have any idea what in the hells you’ve done?!” I yelled at the envoys.

“What does it matter if we have annoyed a monster? He has things that will bring our clan back to the top. We just need to have certain guilds reacquire them for us. If he ends up perishing in the transaction, so much the better.”

Furrowing my brows, I started rubbing my nose in a useless attempt to reduce my stress. “Just a monster he says. That wasn’t just a monster you imbecile!”

“Watch your tone, edgeling.” The leader of the emissaries near growled at me. “You were nearly exiled for not wanting to become a smith like a true dwarf, the only thing saving you is your high position in this guild. That will change if you don’t start respecting your elders.”

“What have you done recently to deserve respect?” I snidely remarked.

“I am an elder, you must respect me.” He said smugly, as if that answered everything. Already on edge from the disastrous meeting, I couldn’t take any more of that backwards mindset.

“Living a long time doesn’t automatically mean you deserve respect, fool, only your actions do. And after that performance, I doubt you will ever earn my respect. Even now, you sit there, smug in your conclusions despite the fact that you know nothing of what you just unleashed. You might have even spelled doom for our clan.”

“Oh get off your soapbox. All we did was remind the monster that they don’t deserve to bargain with us as if they are equals. If they won’t take the hint, then they will reap the consequences when we annihilate them to take back what is ours.”

“Let me go ahead and enlighten you fools, and perhaps your bodyguards can learn from your massive mistakes. Angus is one of two of the monster races who has been accepted into this guild. He has created elixir recipes, found alternate formulations for potions, and has met with the guildmaster more in his first year here than I did in my first ten. He is the one who unlocked the mana well, and practically crafted a divine tier item and used it to fuel his evolution from a kobold. That evolution created the city that every kingdom and clan of the light races with any sense are rushing to feel out for alliances, and you, in your infinite arrogance, just pissed away any chance our clan had of that.” Through my entire rant, the bastard had a dismissive look on his face, and was tapping a single finger on the table.

“You done, edgeling?” He smugly asked. “We were once at the height of the dwarven society, and we will be again. The monsters will once again know their place, and hopefully the two that think they are good enough for common society will be slain as examples.”

Shaking my head, I simply turned and left. It was infuriating to be instantly dismissed due to being an edgeling, one who is close to being outcast in our culture. Of course, that meant that no matter how logical my argument, no matter how compelling my point, it could instantly be dismissed just by bringing up that one word. Idiots. Idiots that perpetuated the foolish notions of the past, as if struggling to advance our culture would threaten the power they had managed to amass. Sighing, I leaned against a wall and took a selfish minute to envy the humans. At least with them, their elders died off in a manner of decades, so they could at least get leaders in who wouldn’t be beaten into submitting to the old order of things by the previous generation. Dwarves and elves, living as long as we did, had no chance of that. It didn’t help that dwarves were as stubborn as the stone Moradin had carved us from.

Indulgence in flights of fancy over, it was time to get serious. After decades of being shat upon by my clan, I had enough. I could also use this one last act to help Angus get ahead of the political machinations that were no doubt running through the idiot emissary’s head. Years of frustration coming to a head, I finally resolved myself to follow through with plans that I had gone over thousands of times in my mind. Striding through the halls, I took the transportation circle to Dol’Amana, capital city of the dwarves.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Nodding at the guards that were always stationed at the transition point, I headed first to my home. There wasn’t much of value there, but the clan elders could still cause a bit of a headache if they wished. My first order of business was to change the access to the wards on my home, excluding all of the clan I had previously been forced into allowing access. It had cost a bit of money, and a few high level alchemy potions, but I had long ago found out how to alter the enchantment to do this one thing. Otherwise, I would be forced to wait weeks until a proper enchanter could get the job done. Fifteen minutes of intense concentration later, and I was finished. I washed up as quickly as I could, then dressed in my best formal war gear.

Scale armor inlaid with intricate designs of silver and gold, with twin bandoliers crossing my chest for easy access to battle potions along with a double bandolier acting as a belt, I cut a fine figure. Though the bandoliers were empty, any who had faced a potionmaster in battle would know just how quickly things could become dire when we were angered. A properly trained master could turn the tide of near any battle, and easily snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Despite my clan’s symbol of a massive maul, I placed twin war axes on each hip. A potionmaster would never take a two handed weapon into battle, another sore point between myself and my clan. The last bit was the trickiest. I undid the braids of my beard, and placed the clan symbols that had been woven into them in a bag on my belt. In its stead, I made three simple braids of my beard, then interwove them into one larger braid, all of them tied off with small grey ribbons.

Preparations complete, I headed out the door and strode down the middle of the main thoroughfare, head high and shoulders squared. The clanking of war boots down the road drew attention, and when my fellow dwarves noticed my attire, a path was quickly cleared. I ignored glimpses of runners heading off down the street, keeping my pace even to give them time to spread the word. Soon enough, all notables would either be in attendance or have a representative. Ten minutes later, I clanked to a stop fifteen feet from the gates of the royal palace, slamming my arms to my side in a note of finality.

Three royal guards were arrayed in front of me, armed to the teeth and clad in their signature red and gold enchanted armor. The handle of a massive battleaxe poked above their heads, and they each had a sword on their left hip and axe on the right, rigged for a cross draw. I also knew from experience they would have several knives secreted away in various places on their armor. The two guards on each side of the gate remained at attention, while the middle one with the fare more elaborate armor stepped forward. “Potionmaster, why do you come here dressed for battle, but without your most dangerous weapons?” He asked in a ritual manner.

“They would be useless for this battle, sir. For I come not to destroy the body, but the ties of the blood today.”

“Very well. In accordance with traditions, your grievances will be heard. Be warned, a full quorum has assembled, so that none may bury the truth this day. May Moradin fill you with his will, that you may finish what must be done.” Greetings given, he spun on his heel and started marching forward as I matched him step for step. Just before I passed through the gate, two more royal guards came into step just ahead of me, while two more finished a box around me after I had passed through. It had been centuries since someone had tried to eliminate the petitioner, but nobody took chances anymore.

We strode down the hallways, steps echoing strangely through the empty corridors. None of us spared any glances for the masterwork that had gone into creating the palace, our mission simple. Soon enough we entered the royal audience chamber, packed with high ranking dwarves of every clan. Heading down a central path left purposely clear, the captain stopped in the middle of a gigantic U shaped table, the heads of each of the twelve clans seated beneath their banners. In the center of the table was the king, and behind him and to his left was one last dwarf, dressed in drab grey robes.

“Potionmaster Faraldo Stonefist seeks audience to air grievances. Grievances heavy enough to break the ties of dwarven blood.” He announced, all conversation instantly ceased. Turning, he left and allowed me to step forward. Previously hidden by the captain was a pulpit with twin blades sticking out the top. I walked up to it without fear, though my palms were covered in a nervous sweat. I looked each dwarf leader in the eye, not flinching at the hatred from my own clan head as I noticed the emissary in the shadows behind him. I kept the smile from my face, knowing that I would be able to get ahead of any lies he was about to spread.

“I come today to sever my ties to the Stonefist clan, as their transgressions have become so great as to be unbearable. I can no longer stay with a clan so devoid of honor.” This was the largest gauntlet that someone could throw, but I wasn’t done. Most of the time, there was another clan willing to take in someone. I was sure the Mountain Crusher clan would take me in a heartbeat so they could claim whatever knowledge I had as an alchemist, as would the craft oriented Seker clan. “I petition the Duergar Clan for asylum.”

Several of the clan heads visibly flinched, shocked at what I just said. The Duergar clan, originally founded by an exile from the variant race of dwarves, would take in anyone. They were far less specist than other dwarves, and based their evaluations of you on your own accolades rather than who you were related to. The robed figure in the back stepped to the side and forward into the light, smiling. “The Duergar clan would be thrilled to accept one as accomplished as you to our clan. Be welcome under the grey cloak, brother.”

I nodded, then removed my gauntlets and gently hung them from my belt before slamming my hands down upon the blades in the podium in front of me. “May Moradrin witness the truth of my words, and strike me down should I try to misrepresent what drove me to this point, even by omitting facts.” The Duergar clan leader’s eyes widened in shock as several gasps were heard behind me. This was one of the strongest oaths a dwarf could ever take, and having my hands pierced by blades blessed by the Pontiff of Moradrin’s church would surely kill me if I violated it in any way.

“Earlier today, I watched my former clan lose what honor they had left in front of my eyes. As many may know, I am an alchemist that took a kobold as an apprentice. In order to prevent my clan from losing face, only the guildmaster himself knew what clan I was descended from. So imagine my surprise, when my apprentice’s own apprentice came to me, asking to facilitate a meeting with the Stonefist clan. Having dealt with him before, I was happy to be able to help one I consider a friend, though our interactions have been somewhat limited. He is a promising alchemist, one who is also favored by the guildmaster. Through his own hard work, he has become a rare variant, and was more than willing to give the guild information on his abilities to further our knowledge on variants, which as many of you know is sorely lacking. I say this so that you may gain insight into his character and motivations. As assurance that his request was legitimate, he told me he had the bones of Grumblespark Stonefist and some of his knowledge. That meeting was held today, and the one who led it is standing by the clan leader.”

Taking a small breath to center myself, I continued. “When the meeting started, he was openly rude and dismissive of the drakeling. He then proceeded to extract information by using a charm ring, pressing especially hard to gain any information on a necromancer that had managed to resurrect the body of our ancestor. Once the drakeling broke the mental coercion, he adamantly refused to do any more business with the clan, promising to never hand over the remains and knowledge of our ancestor, and left in a storm of fury.” As I finished the tale, all eyes were on the head of the Stonefist clan, who was trembling in rage. I waited patiently, as the former head was entitled to ask questions of the one cutting ties.

“What did this drakeling demand in order to hand over the body and knowledge?” He finally managed to ask.

“In his original offer, before the meeting, he wanted training for the craftsmen in their new city. They had already turned down overtures from the Mountain Crusher clan.”

“So they were returning everything for that? What was the exact wording of his offer?”

“To the best of my knowledge: Bring trainers for our non-blacksmith craftsmen, so they may elevate their skills to be able to use their crafts equivalent of mithril. In exchange, your smiths could learn from the materials left by Grumblespark alongside the drakeling smiths. The body was to be returned with no strings attached, as the one in possession of it is a member of the Church of Thanatos.” I saw several dwarves rubbing their beards in contemplation, and saw several more nodding along as these were extremely favorable terms.

“And how are we to trust the terms of a monster? Most likely he was the necromancer that managed to steal the body of our ancestor and his knowledge.” At his dismissive words, several of the other clan leaders froze in disbelief.

“A magically binding contract would be sufficient.” The head of the Seker clan muttered loud enough for all to hear.

“It matters not.” I said clearly. “Your clan entered open negotiations in bad faith, and expressed greed at the chance to study the defiled bones of an ancestor rather than return them to their rightful rest. I will no longer be associated with you.” I looked straight at my new possible clan head, and he nodded at me.

“I find this reason compelling, more than enough to sever ties considering Moradrin has witnessed the truthfulness of his testimony. We welcome our newest brother with open arms.”

With that, I was officially no longer a Stonefist. I removed my hands from the blades, where they immediately healed and left only a small white line on each palm. I took off the bag with the Stonefist crests, and tossed them onto the table in front of the clan head. “I, Faraldo Drueger, hereby repudiate and renounce my former clan. You are no longer kin of mine.” With the truth out and witnessed by Moradrin, there was no way that the Stonefists could openly go after Angus now. Judging by the looks of several other clan heads, the Stonefists were likely going to suffer a massive drop in status after what they pulled, and any negotiations would be redone with anti-charm gear brazenly displayed. Having done what I could, I turned and headed out the door.

“Pardon me, but could I have a moment to speak with you Master Faraldo?” I hadn’t gone but ten feet when I heard someone calling for me. I turned to see a dwarf I didn’t recognize, dressed in a hodgepodge of mismatched armors. “Thanks for stopping. I heard your story there, and received a quest regarding some of it. Could you help me to meet this drakeling you were speaking of?”

“It highly depends upon your reasoning and clan.” I said, clenching a fist in anticipation of his answer.

“Sorry, I forget my manners sometimes. I’m Grimlet, no clan name as I am an adventurer.” I relaxed a bit when I heard that, wondering what he was up to. “Anyway, I received a quest for my guild to assist in building a proper resting place for Grumblespark’s remains, away from the clan that has dishonored his memory. Do you think this would be something your friend would like?”

“It is probably the only request that I would be happy to pass along.” I said with a smile, thankful and saddened that though there was at least one dwarf who would act properly when it came to the ancestors, that dwarf was an adventurer.

“Thanks, so much. My guild would, of course, cover all costs and place it wherever your friend chose. Would that be sufficient, do you think?”

“Most likely, yes. I’ll see what I can, and leave you a note at the Processed Potion shop. Thank you, Grimlet, for being a proper dwarf.” I said, then left as he looked at the ground in embarrassment.