Chapter 106: Dwarven reunion (First Part)

Lying is easy.

It has always been and will always be easier than telling the full undiluted truth because this truth forced us to confront our mistakes and our guilt. However, after lying for so long Paul became trapped in his own lies and started to lie to himself which was without a doubt the worst kind of lie.

He convinced himself that he didn’t have a choice anymore until it was too late.

I did the same in my previous life when I ran away from my responsibilities after my brother’s death.

In the end, Paul and I both realized in a brutal way that we always have a choice and that each lie has consequences.

I didn’t know if what Paul did was right or wrong.

Was lying for a good reason the right thing to do or not?

I supposed that like everything else in any world: a little bit of both.

Paul had certainly spared his daughter a great deal of suffering with his lies when she was just a child.

However, he wasn’t able to confess them to her when the time had come, and hurt her even more to keep them hidden.

Whether all this was revealed too late to truly salvage their relationship wasn’t for me to decide.

So after spending the night inside their room sharing one of the narrow beds with Alianelle, I left them alone and decided to return to my own — much cleaner — inn to speak to Jazor who was probably still asleep.

I was forced to wait for Walmir’s message to know when the grand auction would happen, but in the meantime, I had a ton of things to prepare. First of all, I had to prepare our safe passage inside the Dorell kingdom.

If everything went well I would be accompanied by Himara and Seth but also with Alianelle and her father as she had clearly stated on this roof that if my offer still held, she would want to travel with me to my hometown. We both knew after Paul’s story just how risky her company could be if someone found out what she was.

She wouldn’t have any place left in the world if her true nature was revealed.

I knew the risks.

However, Tegralle had been a safe place when I was little. A place for me to grow up safely that would have remained secured if not for my grandfather specifically targeting me since my birth.

It was outside noble territory as it was on neutral ground not far from the capital without many resources for them to fight over. The leaders of this town and the more powerful mages were also all tightly affiliated with my parents as far as I could remember, in particular the Elven mage acting as a doctor for our town. He was the first one to use magic in front of me when I was a baby, but more importantly, he was also the one who had brought Gaya, a young Beast tribe member, to our town.

This girl was able to live peacefully there without any problem as far as I could remember.

The possibility for a defenseless child from a Beast tribe to live in peace inside Tegralle was certainly a part of the reason for me to have offered Alianelle to accompany there.

The other part was what Hirillë, the Elven Master mage of the Great forest of the west, had said to me after performing a Lost magic to devine my true nature. According to her, I wasn’t entirely Human, but I also wasn’t part Elf as my mother had always claimed.

Paul was from a noble family and as a result a pure Human without the shadow of a doubt.

This could only mean that Seledia, my mother in this life, had lied to me and to everyone else when she had claimed Elven's heritage. I certainly wanted to ask for answers if the chance was given, especially if my whole family was safe, but it also meant that my mother had successfully hidden her true nature for years inside Tegralle.

A safe place with tolerant inhabitants and the possibility to keep secrets.

For all these reasons, I couldn’t imagine a better place for Alianelle and her father to seek a temporary shelter until Alianelle became stronger and able to better hide her true nature.

I couldn’t wait to see my parents’ faces as I finally returned home with this kind of group. Explaining everything would certainly be a giant massive headache, and that was without even considering whether my family was truly safe or not. I quickly chased this thought away, as I always did when my mind wandered near the subject of their safety.

I couldn’t do anything anymore for them, and there was no use worrying about their fate for now especially when I barely had any idea how I would enter the Dorell kingdom safely with such a group.

Hoping that my Dwarven friend would have an answer or at least a lead, and wondering how long it would take me to drag his sorry drunk ass out of bed, I continued to make my way back to the inn.

The day had barely begun, but the merchants organizing their wares were already hard at work, despite the lacking number of customers I noticed the day before. As if possessed by a mechanical habit forcing them to repeat the same dull tasks day after day, they barely gave me a glance when I passed by them, too preoccupied with their work.

They also probably judged my wealth based on my damaged and inexpertly shortened clothes, and they wouldn’t have been wrong as I technically didn’t have a single coin in my purse.

Hell, I didn’t even have a purse!

A concerning problem to address that I would have to discuss with Jazor as well.

It took me longer than I thought to rejoin the inn as I was rudely stopped by a few patrolling guards, determined to know where I came from.

Magic was wondrous, could summon miracles, and could save my life, but apparently, it couldn’t help me get rid of these annoying guards a little too short and frail for the reinforced clothes on their back. Somewhat regretting the time when an earth bullet was all I needed to get rid of the obstacles on my way, I patiently waited for them to run out of patience with the boring answers I gave them.

When they finally let me go, the stalls were already open and the chance for me to find Jazor calmly staying in our inn, instead of wasting what little money he had left on cheap booze, was slimmer than ever.

That’s why it was an agreeable surprise to find Jazor inside the inn, leaning on a table in the dining room.

His meal was finished, not his mug, but that wasn’t what attracted my gaze as I entered the small room offering a pleasant odor of fresh bread awakening my appetite.

Jazor wasn’t sitting alone at his table.

A young man with shaggy dull-colored hair styled eccentrically in several long ponytails not done well enough to tame his mane, was in front of him attentively listening to whatever Jazor had to say. The man didn’t seem the least bit concerned by his appearance, by his neglected clothes that would have earned him the same kind of gaze as I did from the merchants, or by the rest of food on his modest blond beard.

Even Jazor was appearing more dignified than him with his nose held a bit too close to his mug. Probably the privilege of age as Jazor appeared to be at least two decades older than the man smiling from ear to ear after no doubt one of Jazor’s vulgar jokes.

The presence of a man I didn’t know — a Dwarf obviously as his feet barely touched the ground while he was sitting on his chair — made me hesitate whether I should approach Jazor now or wait for him to leave.

My friend took this choice away from me when he noticed me a few seconds later and motioned for me to join them.

I suppressed a sigh and silently resolved myself to have to deal with another Dwarf similar to Jazor.

“Let me guess, he’s the kid who traveled with you! The kid you saved and protected on your own against all the strongest creatures of the wilderness! Am I right? I’m right. Right?” immediately erratically asked the unknown Dwarf.

What a bad start, I thought while sensing a headache coming.

Like a kid hurried to gain the approval or at least the attention of someone of importance, the man kept alternating his slate-gray eyes between me and Jazor.

In no hurry to answer, Jazor took a big gulp of his mug and avoided at the same time my own interrogative gaze. Whatever Jazor had been telling him, it appeared obvious that he had more than a little altered the truth to depict himself more favorably.

As impressive as it was to drink such a quantity of alcohol so soon in the morning, Jazor’s thirst still ended up sated for now as he finally put his mug down with a violent, satisfactory slam on the wooden table, followed by a long burp just as loud that made a few of the customers, eating quietly at their respective tables, look at us with judgmental gazes.

“What?” he asked while wiping his beard, much denser than his compatriot, with his sleeve.

Not deterred to have been ignored, the man started to once more ask the same question as before with the exact same enthusiasm.

“Oh yeah, it’s him. I call him sissy, you can do the same. Sissy, this is Thaznec!”

“Thaznec Morbedsen, but you can call me Taz! Nice to meet you, sissy!” immediately replied Jazor’s young Dwarven friend.

I did my best to put off the sudden impulse I had to kick this rude pair of Dwarves and simply corrected Jazor in a neutral voice that even to me appeared extremely forced.

“Please, don’t call me that. That’s not my name.”

“Oh, it’s not?”

Sensing no genuine mockery or malicious intent from this man, I dropped the grudge I had suddenly developed against him and reserved the one I had against Jazor to add it to the long list I already had against him in hopes of one day paying him back.

“So, what’s your name?” he hurriedly asked without waiting for me to answer his previous question.

I hesitated for a few seconds before telling him my name. This was something I had carefully avoided doing previously when men searching for traces of my grandfather’s murderer were potentially lurking not far away from me. If the wrath of the wilderness had any positive effect, it was that Arthur Waldemar’s murder completely fade into the background making hiding my real name now pointless.

“It’s Sillath.”

My first name at the very least.

Before Thaznec had the time to say anything else, I turned my attention back toward Jazor, who had a satisfied smile on his smeared lips after his little harmless, but slightly repetitive, joke.

“I have something to ask you,” I started speaking as quickly as I could to get ahead of his friend who already had his mouth open.

“Let me guess… You want to know your options to enter the Dorell Kingdom,” he interrupted with a knowing look.

"I… Well, you could say it like that, yeah,” I stuttered.

“Admit it, you didn’t expect me to have guessed,” he noted with an insufferably arrogant smirk.

“It’s you who said to wait until we reach the town to discuss our options,” I remarked in faint outrage.

“Anyway, it’s good to see you here, I was starting to worry,” he resumed more seriously after ignoring my valid observation.

“You? Worry? Why?” I asked back incredulously.

“We’re still technically inside the wilderness, but the rules here are very different so I was afraid you’d do something stupid. You kind of have a knack for that…”

“Oh, it smells like a good story!” interrupted Taznec.

“Maybe another time Taz, they’re here.”

Before I had the time to wonder who Jazor was referring to, three Dwarves walked in with the discretion of an elephant herd. It didn’t take them long to notice us and make their way across the room to us with much less delicacy than I did. Their Dwarven frames, much more imposing than my own, didn't really help them in their endeavor, making their crossing of the room much less smooth than they obviously initially intended.

The whole dining room resumed their respective meal only when the trio had finally managed to reach our table.

“Jazor! You’re alive!”

The first man, who had squeezed at the front of his modest group, had a similar smile on his face as Taznec when he reached Jazor, but contrary to the man sitting in front of him, this time Jazor didn’t dismiss him. He stood up and embraced him in a bear-like hug. When their hug ended a few seconds later, the man turned toward me and offered me a gloved hand with an amiable smile that I immediately accepted.

Despite his generous crooked nose that had obviously been broken a few times already, his sizable ears and his smile that gave him a silly or even some could say a simple face, his pale-brown hair was properly cut and combed in an elegant fringe while his long beard was nicely trimmed and tressed into a single long braid reaching up to his navel.

If this man gave me the impression of a young noble devoid of malice and experience in equal measure — which was after some thought quite similar to Taz who had joined Jazor in this long public welcoming — his clothes told me a slightly different story. Just as elegant and clean as his hair and beard, his grey travel clothes adorned with a few strange sewed designs, his leather shoulder protections, and his long dandelion cape almost reaching his dark boots were practical and clearly made to last betraying that this man was probably not that inexperienced.

The following man with a beard woven into three long braids who offered me a much rougher handshake in total silence appeared just as prepared for the wilderness, but without his comrade’s elegance. His massive golden ring in his nose along with the numerous scar that I could immediately see on his face had probably a lot to do with that impression. The most impressive of these old wounds was a long scar running from his forehead across his right eye up to the middle of his cheek that cut his bushy eyebrows in two in the same way as his right eye staying desperately blank.

Trying my best to not make any morbid curiosity appear in my eyes after our hands separated, I still noticed that his right ear was half-chewed while his left was simply gone, leaving only behind an inelegant hole which only he could know if it still fulfilled its function. Without any blindfold to hide his eye and with his hair cut short, the man-made absolutely no effort to hide any of his wounds and was apparently used to people staring at him.

Indeed, despite my carefulness, the man seemed to notice my gaze staying on his left ear for a second too long and, out of the blue, gave me a long wink with his valid eye while revealing his irregular teeth. Taken aback by this sudden display of playfulness from such an austere-looking man, I could only weakly smile back with an embarrassed grin.

I would have probably spent more time concentrating on this man if the last member of this group wasn’t even more peculiar.

“You piece of shit! I knew you couldn’t be dead!” was the first words this person told just before a loud slap landed on Jazor’s forehead making my friend stumble in the process.

Jazor apparently expected something like that as he simply rubbed the reddening area of impact with a helpless smile on his face very different from what I was used to from him.

“You didn’t have to hit me, Zena…”

If the name didn’t give it away that easily as it was from a foreign race, the appearance of the third member of this group didn’t leave much doubt.

This person who had immediately slapped Jazor — something I often dreamed to do — was the first female Dwarf I had ever seen.

Contrary to my expectations, she didn’t have a beard or any other significant male trait. In fact, she wasn’t unpleasant to look at and would have been a real beauty without her slightly large nose and the scar at the corner of her lips. In my opinion, it didn’t make her ugly but gave her a less fragile kind of beauty that a sheltered flower couldn’t have. This impression was only amplified by her simple hairstyle: an unadorned ponytail, simply done with a single strand of her chestnut hair that fell in front of her left eye, though I didn’t know if that lock of hair that seemed to slightly impede her vision was there before she hit Jazor.

Jazor spent an awkward moment with his hands raised in defense in front of him while an unending flow of apologies left his mouth. Definitely, a scene I never expected to see one day. I personally doubted the sincerity of such excuses from Jazor — an opinion apparently shared by his past and probably future assailant — as she was obviously prepared to give him another piece of her mind.

However, before another slap had the time to land on Jazor’s face, her round green eyes finally landed on me and made her stop.

She lowered her gloved hand and faked a cough probably to try to disperse this awkward first impression if the reddening of her face was any indication.

“Sorry, kiddo. I didn’t notice you. I’m Zena, nice to meet you,” she declared with a clear, calm, and definitely much more dignified voice.

The gentle smile on her lips, slightly hindered by the scar at the corner of her lips, vanished not long after as she suspiciously altered her gaze between Jazor and me.

“Who is this kid, Jazor? What have you gotten yourself into this time?” she asked in an authoritative voice.

Apparently glad to have escaped any more physical punishment, but also concerned that this truce was only temporary, Jazor hurriedly straightened his back and answered with exaggerated obfuscation.

“What do you mean by that? I didn’t do anything wrong. He’s a kid I saved along the way and took under my care,” he declared proudly, but probably a little too loudly, as the whole room had obviously heard his words.

“Really?” immediately asked the elegant-looking dwarf with the same doubtful face as Jazor’s current interrogator.

“Don’t doubt me Kakuz! And you, Zena, you didn’t have to hit me!”

“Didn’t have to hit you?” she replied outraged while puffing up her not-so-modest chest in anger. “You should consider yourself lucky that I’m not kicking your ass over the Red mountain back to my mother for what you did.”

“Zena, I…”

“Don’t make excuses, damnit! How many times did we tell you that you should stop this kind of work? But no, the great Jazor doesn’t fear the wilderness! The great Jazor can take care of everything with a single strike of his mighty axe!” she proclaimed sarcastically, before stopping her speech to look around the table.

“By the way, where is your axe?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I… kind of… lost it…” mumbled Jazor, more uncomfortable than I ever saw him.

“You what!”

If she wasn’t discreet before, now she was so loud that the entire room started to send daggers with their eyes toward her. However, this time Zena didn’t seem to care.

“My mother gifted you this axe!”

“I know…” replied Jazor deflated.

“It was proof of your apprenticeship with her!” she continued, apparently not believing that Jazor had managed to lose something so precious.

“I know…”

Sensing Jazor’s discomfort, Zena finally stopped her outcry and softened her gaze.

“Were you really in that much danger this time?” she asked softly.

“Yeah.”

“Did you really almost die?” she demanded even lower than before, apparently not believing that this question could have an affirmative answer.

“Yeah,” replied Jazor with the same, even, almost emotionless voice making it impossible to doubt him.

“That’s why I told you not to leave this time,” she whispered helplessly while taking a few steps forward to come closer to Jazor.

Too close to misinterpret their true relationship.

“Sorry,” mumbled Jazor’s back with much more sincerity this time.

The whole room had been staring daggers at our group for disturbing their meal, but when Zena hugged Jazor with tears in her eyes, none had the heart to say anything anymore. They all turned their attention back to their meal as I observed another aspect of my friend that I would have never suspected even existed.

With a contented smile, he returned the hug gently with relief evident on his face.

We were still inside the wilderness and not even the impenetrable walls of the city were enough to make us truly relax yet after all this time spend with the threat of death as our closest companion.

I knew that underneath his seemingly relaxed demeanor, Jazor was the same as me.

However, in this instant, as I looked at my friend's satisfied face in silence, I realized that Jazor had finally reached his safe place.

For him, his journey was finally truly over.