For Father’s sake, make sure you let the Rune identify you before opening! Do you have any idea how many valuables went up in flames, just because you didn’t want to drop some blood on it later!?

- Angry dwarven merchant yelling at a his son.

“Spread out, we’ll make our camp here!”

The column halted at an abandoned three way junction; one that seemed similar to the ones we had passed through earlier this day, though this one seemed to have a tunnel where the tracks didn’t lead to. Instead, it curved sharply to the left, heading deeper into a different part of dwarven territory.

Most of the dwarves simply hopped to Mogrim’s command, unpacking the heavy backpacks they had lugged along for ten hours straight. My group, however, was a lot more pitiful. Most, if not all, simply plopped down onto the ground, lying on their backs, gasping for air as dwarves stepped over them to complete their tasks. They set a surprisingly fast pace for people with such short legs.

Even I was feeling the strain of today’s journey, though that didn’t mean the dwarves would leave me alone. No. After what happened yesterday, none of the dwarves seemed liked they wanted to separate from me. Always whispering and watching whenever they though I wasn’t looking. Even going as far forming a protective circle around me during the march, turning everyone away they deemed suspicious. I never knew that being the center of attention was this mentally taxing. No wonder Sly always chose to hang around with us. The pressure of being Hawk’s heir must be crushing.

My attraction to Sly had been growing increasingly large as of late. Be it the way she swiftly adapted to the new information about Founders, giving out orders and making plans at a moment’s notice. Or the ease with which she got along with our new dwarven friends, chatting and bantering like long lost friends. Whatever she did, it was enthralling. And as the day went on, I found myself sneaking more and more peeks at her, fantasizing so much I had to utilize the string belt on my sackcloth lest my lower region revealed its intentions to the world. At least nobody had seemed to notice the slightly swollen navel area. Or maybe they pretended to see nothing. Now that I thought about it, with all the eyes upon me lately, that would be a far more likely scenario… Noooooooooo! Would you mind quieting it down a little!? I’m trying to sleep here! Ugh… my head. It hurts, it hurts…

“Sin-bearer, when you’re ready,” Mogrim said smiling as he made his way towards my twitching and squirming form. One of his hands was tightly gripping Martha’s; the two inseparable since Gob’s little stunt. The woman’s eyes began to water again when she looked at me, bowing deeply once more whenever our eyes met. Her husband still wore the same stupid grin he had since the whole death hug thing had come to pass. Sometimes his lips would sag down a bit, only to get right up again when he saw Martha’s face. Sublime, pristine, and completely Mark free. Snaking tattoo nowhere to be seen.

“Let’s go,” I said, turning my face away in still burning embarrassment. The couple turned around, making their way towards the largest of the abandoned buildings. This one similar in looks and style to the one we left behind this morning, safe for the large, open addition to the right of it. One where several of the tracks led into on which the mine cart full of crystals had been pushed. Dwarves were busy unloading its contents, handling the crystal with utmost care as they placed them into thick, dense sacks. Thick enough that even their bright light became but a dim glow.

An arm hooked around mine, warm breath tickling my ear. “Hello, handsome,” Sly whispered. She patted my stomach just around the navel, sounding quite disappointed. “Aaaah, and here I thought you would be happy to see me.” She gave me a quick peck on the cheek. “You certainly looked happy during our walk.” A finger tugged on my belt. “Extremely happy…” Please kill me now.

Sly giggled and teased me the rest of the way, not taking notice of Gurtrum joining our company of four. Her teases softly echoed through the building as we climbed the stairs, passing through long, empty rows of stone tables on the first floor; bare beds, and ransacked chests on the second. Only to end up in a deserted single room on the third. This one, like all before it, stripped off any and all things considered useful by the dwarves.

Mogrim set down the crystal lantern on the stone table; its round surface large enough to accommodate whatever Mogrim wanted to show us. Martha handed him a small, metal box. Gold was used to decorate the edges. Its gleaming surface chiseled with various patterns and depictions of dwarven warriors. In the center of it was square shaped indentation that contained an angrily glowing Rune of red in the middle of it. Mogrim simply touched it with his thumb, causing it to turn white in an instant. Afterwards he pulled out a small cube, sliding it into the opening. A few small turns to the right, and two large ones to the left, and the chest made a sharp click, parting open in the middle as Mogrim’s hand retrieved a large, parchment scroll from it.

“Are you going to stare, or help me lift this thing?” Sly asked.

“Huh,” I grunted, looking around. Sly was standing at one end of a stone bench, gesturing me to pick up the other side so we could move it closer to the table. “Eh, ah… sure.” I bend down, wiping away some of the drool on my chin. We scooted it closer, sitting down onto its hard surface as Mogrim began spreading the scroll out onto the table. For all their craftsmanship, dwarves surely suck at making comfortable furniture.

I wiggled my ass, trying to find somewhere that didn’t feel like sitting on bare rock. I stopped once I had gotten a good look on the thing before me. I really should have learned more at the Archives. Although I couldn’t read the dwarven letters, I definitely could see the reason the reason why Mogrim would lock it up in the first place.

On the table lay an extremely detailed map of what seemed to be an almost circular, enclosed cave system. On the southern end you had an semi-circle area shaded light blue. In it were numerous symbols, shapes, and figures that had letters scribbled next to them. Thin and thick lines connected these various pictographs through countless numbers of mapped out tunnels and passageways, all of them eventually ending up at the most southern point in the humongous circle. One that had big, bold letters to its equally impressive symbol.

The shaded light blue area extended till it reached the outer edges of the circle, or collided with two other spheres of influence. One was tinted light red and situated in the north-west. The other rested easy in the north-east—a soft yellow on the eyes. Both of these pushed against each other in the north. Each of them containing one bold lettered symbol at their respective edge of the circle, though the rest of their area was far less detailed and filled in than the blue one.

What peeked my interest the most was the large, colorless center of the map. Whatever was situated there, it had some visible effect on the other colors. Wherever the other colors met each other, they remained a somewhat equal line. Not a lot of divergence, safe for a small wobble here and there. But the center was a different story. The colors had shifted like waves on a map, sometimes surging out to form a small circle surrounded by nothing. Other times it retreated inwards, letting the colorlessness seep various holes into their respective spheres. Whatever was happening at the center, it seemed to be lashing out all three respective powers at the same time. The biggest hint being that the very center was devoid of any drawings. Like it had been impossible to map out for quite some time.

Mogrim bend over the map, studying it intently. “Yesterday’s report indicated that the defiler’s armies are charging through our most north-eastern front,” he said, finger pointing at the north-eastern edge of the blue sphere; the part close to the center where yellow, blue, and nothing clashed into each other. He let the finger slide outwards, before resting on a small triangle near the circular edge of the map. One that still lay in the blue sphere, and not the yellow one next to it—albeit barely. “We left from Mogrim’s respite, here.” He tapped his finger on the triangle, before sliding it slightly westwards. “To our current position.” It ended at another triangle; this one crossed out. “Over here.”

“With a bit of luck...” Mogrim’s finger now went a bit further to the southwest, hovering above a larger circle that encompassed a junction of several tunnels. “We’ll make it to Bin Tholdir in one go.” He stood back, crossing his arms. “It will easily deal with whatever groups of defiled that have managed to slip past our lines. Everything after that will be safe, or as safe as it can get in this place.” He tapped the big, bold symbol at the southernmost edge of the map. “Though we'll need to keep a tight pace if we want to reach the capitol in a manner of weeks.”

Mogrim looked at me. “Once we get there, Sin-bearer, I will introduce you to the right people. Though I urge you to hide your powers in public for as long as possible.” His brows were deeply furrowed. “It seems impertinent of me to ask you this. Especially after all you have done for me.” He gazed briefly at Martha before looking back at me. “But it is for your protection.” Mogrim hovered his hand over the light blue area. “We may look united on the surface, but don’t let that fool you. Our politics can be as bloody as any surface scuffle you humans tend to have.” Gurtrum laughed, barking something at Mogrim. “You’re right…” the dwarf replied, eyes vacant as he traced the Mark below his eyebrow. “We’re much worse than that.”

“Don’t worry about me trying to stand out.” My words snapped Mogrim back from his daze. “I doubt I want to stand out more than I already do.” The mere though of thousands of dwarves hounding me wherever I went was enough to send shivers down my spine.

“Politics-wise,” Sly chimed in. “We’ll need more info about those various factions before we feel comfortable heading into that capitol of yours.” She looked at the map. “I take it this Bin Tholdir can be considered a safe place?”

Mogrim nodded. “I know its ruler; He’s a close friend of mine. Just make sure to keep your heads down. Were any to know you’re actual humans, and not Vyvaries, things could get… tricky.”

“Can I request something?”

Mogrim perked up. “Certainly, Sin-bearer. What is that you wish for?”

“Well…” I began scratching the back of my head. “I have a friend that knows a lot more about the whole politics game than me.” Sly mouth twitched. “I was wondering if we could include him in our future meetings?”

Mogrim took no notice of it, eagerly nodding his head. “Any friend of the Sin-bearer is a friend of mine. And his name would be…?”

“Maximilian. He’s the pale looking guy with silver hair and green eyes. Tends to hover around a woman with more spikes than skin.”

“Oh, those two. They do tend to stick out quite a bit.”

“They certainly do,” I chuckled before leaning back. “Anything else we need to discuss during this meeting?”

“No, nothing we can’t discuss better with some warm food in our belly,” Mogrim replied. Martha had already rolled up the map and placed it back in the box she was presenting to Mogrim. He drew a small dagger from his belt, pricking his finger before dripping a couple of red drops on the white Rune. It eagerly slurped it all up, turning an angry red once more.

With all that done, the dwarves turned around, heading towards the stairs as I trailed after them. Sly pulled me back by the scruff of my neck. The move caused the dwarves to take notice. “Don’t worry,” Sly said. “Me and him have some things to discuss.”

Martha whispered something into Mogrim’s ear, causing the dwarves eyebrows to rise in understanding. “Oh… yes, of course. Do you need your food brought up at a later time?”

“I doubt it will take that long,” Sly replied.

The dwarf chuckled at the remark. “I see. Though you should have at least some light while you do it.” He motioned towards Gurtrum, the man obeying quietly as he left his own crystal lantern on the table. “Have fun, Sin-bearer.” He waved as descended down the stairs. “I will see you in a bit.”

I could feel my cheeks start to burn at the remark. Is this it? Sly’s hand felt awfully hot of a sudden, the way her fingers gripped my skin. With each step the dwarves took, I could feel my heart beat just that bit louder. Once they were further down, Sly turned me around, eyes boring straight into me. I swallowed.

“What you did that for, you idiot?” Huh? She intently studied my face, hands tightly griping my arms at either side. “Why would you invite that slimy bag of bones to our meetings?”

“What’s wrong with inviting Maximilian?”

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong!?” She made a deep sigh. “He’s the reason you’re in this danger in the first place.” She released her grip. “Without him, you wouldn’t be here. You would be somewhere up there.” She pointed at the ceiling. “Safe, secure, not branded like some fucking murderer.” Her head slumped. “Thought that hardly matters now, does it? You’re already here, and there is nothing I can do about it.” She walked towards the single window, resting her head on her hands as she gazed outside. I cautiously approached, not sure what to do, but leaving her alone definitely didn’t feel like the right option. “I don’t like the little weasel.” Sly murmured once I leaned on the railing next to her.

I remained silent, watching the multitude of lantern lights below. The dwarves had set up camp with proficient easy while most of the humans needed help with their equipment, not used to the interlocking tubes the dwarven tents utilized.

A few fireplaces had sprung up in the middle of the formation, red candles in an otherwise impressive mixture of differently colored crystals. Hammer was busy bustling around, sniffing and sampling the different pots that were brewing above the roaring fires. He would end up throwing some dwarven spices in one kettle, stirring deeply in another, always inspecting each and every meal till he deemed it up to his standards. The man never talked much, but he didn’t need to. A good meal did more for morale than company ever could, and he knew it. Sly just watched at the spectacle, letting out another deep sigh.

Come on, Marcus, say something. “Sly, I… uh-” How about you shut up already, and let me sleep?

“You think we’ll ever be happy as those two?” she asked.

I followed her gaze, spotting Mogrim and Martha. Both walked hand in hand as Martha laid her head on his shoulder. Sly’s wistful look caused my heart to wrench. Before I knew it, my hand had grabbed hers, pulling her along softly as I made my way towards the stairs.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Finding out.”

The fire crackled dimly in front of us; Sly’s chest softly rising and falling as the last embers of the earlier cooking dissipated. Her head was nuzzled on my chest, breath steady while asleep. I lightly stroked her hair, leaning against her as I pulled the blanket tighter around us. I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of her breathing among the snores of other dwarves around us. I could think of only one thing as I felt myself slowly drifting away, warmed by good food and even better company.

This…

This if fine.