Jimmy the dwarves and I gathered round a large table, the ceilings were low, the colors all shades of grey, and the light was as low as the ceilings. Durin sat at the top of the table, or the bottom, that’s how round tables work. Soon a very old and feeble dwarf, with the kinds of bones that once held strength, but now just look craggy and tired was wheeled through the door. Two younger dwarves wheeled this ancient dwarf in and parked him next to Durin at his left hand. Or perhaps Durin was at his right hand, for that’s how round tables work too. In the practical way of the dwarves instead of being hollow, the center of the table was a large spinning platform that back home we’d call a Lazy Suzan.

Everyone was hushed, and then the old dwarf spoke his voice as tired and once strong as his body “What, you woke me up and there isn’t any beer?” Around the table all the dwarves chucked. Durin said “Just a sec dad, it’s on its way. Whisky too, till mom gets here and cuts you off.” At this Durin set a fancifully engraved bottle out for this father, who smiled and poured himself a liberal shot.

The old man sat up straighter, and his eyes twinkled, and suddenly you could see his son in him. Powerful and strong. “That’s more like it. So why are we here?” Durin unrolled the soft leather and spun the turntable till it was before me. I placed my rings upon it, and Durin spun it back to his father. One of the young dwarves who’s pushed him in, handed the old dwarf a Loop helmet and the old man began to scrutinized the rings himself. All the other dwarves were silent awaiting his approval, for the facts of the matter had spread to them via the gossip network as fast as it gathered them hence.

The old man flipped up his visor, cradling the rings in a gesture familiar to me now. He looked me up and down and met my eyes, his gaze as piercing as a hawk, and I felt like he looked right through me.

“500 gold crowns right now for the pair!”

Durin answered, quietly saying “Already offered a thousand, he can’t sell. He borrowed them like from his God. I get the feeling he didn’t ask permission. I also get the feeling he feels a mite guilty about it too.”

The old man’s eye stared off into the distance flicking here and there sharply as if he were memorizing faces only he could see.

The old dwarf’s shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath, letting the tensions roll of him. He turned to me and said “I’m Dain, Durin’s father, I’m the Stonehammer of all those sons in the name of the shop. Do you have the book?”

I replied half confused? “Garabal’s Dao of Doing?”, Dain nodded. “No, it was stolen from me before I set foot on this world. Garabal gave to me with his own hands, and told me to keep it safe and I lost it.”

Another deep sigh from Dain, ‘That’s a shame lad, that’s a shame.”

“I’m supposed to get another on in 90 days. Jimmy,” here I nodded my head at my teammate. ”and I were planning to adventure in the Kobold Cavern to keep body and soul together until them. Once I have it, I can become a mage.”

Dain’s mouth quirked like he’d tasted something sour. “No half-truths with me boy. You’ll be a Heroic mage.”

There was a gasp at this, the loudest of all coming from Jimmy. He was staring at me now, shock plain on his face.

Dain continued when silence ruled again “I’m no daft bugger who can’t add two and two. I can see the race of you two boys as clear as I can see my beard. I’m guessing you are the only two Eldar worshippers of Garabal the Maker, ergo Garabal the Builder is still looking at the mushrooms from the top.” The other dwarves all grabbed their loop helmets and looked as well. A wave of muttering swept across the room as they spoke. Surfing that wave was the word “Eldar”.

Dain spun the turntable so that the next dwarf could look at the rings in turn. And spoke again “What else do you intend. I assume you are supposed to spread the word.”

“Aye, but I’m no preacher, my job is to go do cool things in Garabal’s name. If folks want to convert, they can head to a shrine, or come see me. If there is a shrine, church or temple in Pekaton, I can reclaim it in Garabal’s name.”

Durin spoke this time, “Lad, there used to a Maker temple in Pekaton, but it was wiped out of history when Garabal fell, a thousand years ago. The Church of the Architect led a crusade to wipe all trace of Garabal’s faith off the map for good.”

“But, I found a church that was dedicated to both Garabal and the Architect, I restored It for both.” I pulled out my scroll and sat it on the turntable. “I’m supposed to take this to his high-priest and claim a reward. Doesn’t that mean they were allies?”

Dain spoke again, “Aye lad it did, but when Garabal’s church got weak, the Architect turned his church on the Maker’s. Seizing all their assets, properties and killing any Eldar they could find. Wiped the last of the stragglers out, as most had already moved on to the summer lands. Libraries upon libraries were burned or lost. Whole areas of study wiped out in a fortnight. A proper Pogrom of the old school. All of Garabal’s churches or libraries, for they were usually both, were seized and or burned. You will find no friends of Garabal among the worshippers of the Architect now lad. He’s just the first of the ‘evil gods’ they have defeated, proving the ascendency of the Architect.”

“Would they have a copy of the ‘Dao if Doing’? I can get my magic now if they do. It’s been a thousand years. They must have relaxed about it by now.”

Dain shook his head in pity, “All of Garabal’s personal works, were destroyed, not a copy of any, let alone the Dao of Doing, his scripture, can be found. Otherwise, we would not be so excited at seeing rings like these. Not only can crafters and Creators use them to make wonderous things, we hoped they were clues.”

My head was spinning, I asked, “If Garabal used to only allow Eldar to be members of his church, why do you want the book so badly? You didn’t know you could join his church until today, right?”

Dain shook he head again “You misunderstand us lad, we can’t join Garabal’s church. We have gods of our own. Gods who are jealous of their people. But the Dao of Doing was more than a religious scripture, it was written for all who put things into the world. For all who strive to elevate their craft to art. It’s like the Book of 5 Rings, but for everyone. enchanters, spell crafters, painters, poets and warriors. Reading it is supposed to bring enlightenment in your craft. Legend says it was capable of putting Masters onto the path to become Grandmasters, and Grandmaster’s onto the path to become Sages. It holds secrets and techniques of dozens of crafts that have been lost to time. A Grandmaster in this fallen age would barely be a Journeyman in those days. Its magic was such, that when you read it, it was as if it were written just for you. If one book could do that lad, now imagine what one of Garabal’s libraries could do. A library full of books written by the greatest masters from the greatest race of makers ever to walk the earth. Crafters who lived 5 , 10 years or more for each of the 200 most dwarves aspire to. All that beauty, that craft, snuffed out in a human generation. Worst of all, everyone thought, ‘The knowledge is in craft masters’ heads, it will just get passed down’. There was nothing to worry about because they lived in a gilded age. A gilded age they killed with their own hands, for power, money and property.” Dain suddenly looked old and tired again.

Durin had spun the Lazy-Suzan and was looking at the scroll. Once his father had finished, he said, “I don’t think this was meant as bait for a trap Joe, but in the end that’s what it is. If you want, I can have someone claim it anonymously. We can see what reward they get, but I don’t recommend setting foot in one of the Architect’s churches, let alone a Temple and a talking to a high priest. They will spot your race quickly enough. The Architects Temple is probably the least safe place for you in Pekaton.”

I gazed quietly into Durin’s eyes, my shoulders slumped. “So, I’m basically back where I started, except for you handling the loot from the Church of the Architect?”

Durin shook his head, “No lad, you have allies, or at least people whose goals support yours. Don’t underestimate that. We have access to information you did not before. After all that is part of why you came to see us to begin with, yes? Also, we will spread the word of this to all the dwarven clans. You said spreading tales was part of your mission. No tale with spread faster than this through the dwarven clans. Every master of ever craft would trade half his teeth and shave his beard to read that book.”

“Best of all, since becoming strong is what you want, we can teach you. Not just teach you about magic, but teach you the Techniques. Techniques that are why dwarves are so legendarily hardy. We will teach you to harden your body, and then temper your body. Your body will grow hard, tough and strong. Then we will do the same to your heart, your mind and your will. Elves Temper the mind, making the mind and the body fast. Humans Temper the body making it strong and tough. Dwarves Harden and Temper your soul. Dwarves become tough, because any other way lies death.”