Chapter 1 - Dawning

The stew was warm, at least, and really fairly tasty. Never mind that it was in a worn wooden bowl, that her spoon was a twisted piece of pewter, or that there were more carrots and onions in her stew than meat. Elbreth took a deep breath. Come on, get used to this. No one's going to baby you. The water in her tankard was tepid, but clean. The rough, wooden table and three-legged stool she sat on in the corner of the pub were sturdy. The raucous voices around her were raised in good-natured storytelling and debate, not true anger. This was okay.

Looking up, she saw her uncle's bright elven eyes watching her. His own stew was half gone, bread crumbs littering the table beside it. He chewed slowly, maintaining eye contact until he swallowed, then took a mouthful from his own tankard of water.

"I think we'd be best off if we slept here tonight," he said casually, his eyes latching onto hers again. "Maybe even stay here the week."

"All right," Elbreth answered, breaking eye contact by staring into her bowl and taking another scoop. She learned as a child that it was impossible to guess what her uncle Immeral was thinking. He was too much like her dad; he hid his emotions behind his elven features. In that way she was much more like her mom, who'd been human. It felt odd that she was able to think of her parents in the past tense so easily. She and her uncle had only been two weeks on the run - shouldn't it be difficult still? There was the pain of loss, of course, although the tears were long dried. But shouldn't her mind still fall into old patterns?

"Do you have a plan?" Elbreth's own eyes were grey, like her mother's, but kept some of the luster of her father's silver.

Immeral shook his head, "Honestly, child, I don't know." His spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl. "I'm hoping that we can make some inquiries and find some connections. I know that DuKell isn't well-liked everywhere. What we do next will depend on what we find." Long fingers pushed his bowl away and reached again for his water.

"Pardon me, sir!"

Elbreth looked across to where the voice was coming from. A halfling woman, standing at Immeral's shoulder, dressed in armour and carrying a longbow. Just behind her, a male gnome toyed absently with a coin, not looking at the group. He, too, was dressed for battle. Elbreth's only experience with halflings and gnomes was when her mother had had trade meetings. Immeral arched an eyebrow.

"Don't want to be bothering noble folks such as yourselves," the halfling continued. Elbreth reached involuntarily for the silver torc around her neck, the lamplight glinting off her gold signet ring. "But we overheard you talking about the Baron, Silas DuKell; now, we're not exactly friends of his, either. If you don't mind, we'd love the chance to sit and find out what you're thinking because if you're thinking what I think you're thinking, then we're thinking alike."

Earnestness was painted across the halfling's face, she couldn't be more serious. Elbreth's eyes looked back to her uncle. Expressionless, he gestured for the two newcomers to join them at the table.

"Certainly, and welcome," his voice was inviting, but guarded. Shifting slightly on his stool, the high elf gracefully adjusted his cloak so that his arms would be unencumbered. A dagger gleamed at his hip. Elbreth relaxed.

The two newcomers settled themselves on either side of the table, the gnome doing so with great aplomb. There was no sign of wariness or concern. No caution. Short, adept fingers pocketed the gold coin and suddenly the gnome was all attention.

"So, you two are - elves?" The gnome eyed Elbreth's only slightly pointed ears questioningly. Startled at the small man's boldness, Elbreth found herself gaping back.

"My name is Immeral Liadon," Immeral interjected, "and yes, I am a high elf from Enfallia. This is my niece, Elbreth Liadon." Elbreth was grateful for her uncle's gracious diplomatic skills.

"She's not full elf?" The gnome was still eyeing her, he seemed to be noting her dark hair and pale eyes.

"Erkie!" The halfling said admonishingly. "I'm sorry," she turned to Elbreth, "my partner isn't used to speaking to refined folks. My name is Cora Anvil, and this is Erkie Fnipper. Pleased to make your acquaintances, I'm sure." Cora smiled pleasantly, almost hopefully, looking between Immeral and Elbreth for assurances. Erkie shrugged and pulled out his coin again.

"Oh, it's quite all right," Elbreth replied softly, looking down at her dinner. I'll have to get used to such uncouthness, I suppose. It's not that they're deliberately rude, just unpolished. With a few last scoops she finished her stew and pushed her bowl to the middle of the table.

"So, then, you are not friends of Baron DuKell. May I hear your stories?" Immeral smoothly transitioned the conversation, folding his hands together on the table before him.

Cora beamed, "Well! My family has been around Carhouth for generations; you know, that city claimed just a fortnight ago as part of Baron DuKell's newest landholding?" Elbreth's eyes shifted to Immeral sharply, but Cora continued on unaware. "We were smiths, you see. Anvil is an old smithing name. My old dad was the best swordsmith there was in those parts, and that's no joke. He's the one who taught me." She grinned, pulling out her dagger for Immeral to inspect. "Well, DuKell came to him, see? Late one night, before all the ruckus started, there was such a knocking at the door that it near startled me to death. When dad opened it, there was DuKell, all wrapped up, not wanting to be recognised. His face was covered, but I saw his hand. I recognised that raven on his ring. He spoke low, but I caught enough to know that he was trying to make a deal of some kind with my old dad. Well, dad would have none of it, practically tossing the man out on his ear.

"Not long after, just a day or so, our wares were stolen and the smithy itself was set on fire. They made a show of it, those knights did. They wanted us to know who'd done it. They all wore the black raven, and told us we had two nights before they did the same to our house and anyone still in it. My old dad is a stubborn man. He refused to pack, refused to leave, refused to be pushed around by this upstart Baron. I packed a few things for us, but he sat sullenly by the fire. The night of our eviction came, and like the headstrong ass he is, he met the Baron's men at the door with a sword! Well, my old dad wasn't much of a challenge for three trained knights, although he sure tried his darnedest, and of course I did what I could to help him. The knights roughed him up pretty good, knocking away the sword and beating him down. Before I knew it, they were tossing us out onto the street and setting fire to the house. There was nothing left for us to do, so we moved on out of there, and here we are."

"Where is your father, now?" Elbreth was caught up in the story, intrigued that someone else had a share in some of her losses.

"Oh, he's around. We set up shop again here in town, in my name; he's got a bad arm now and can't work as fast as he used to." Cora looked around, "Say, do you mind if I order an ale?"

Immeral shrugged his indifference, turning to Erkie. "And your story, good gnome?"

"Ha!" Erkie laughed, again tucking the coin away. "Buy me an ale and I'll tell you my story." He leaned forward, "Buy me dinner and the night's lodging, and I'll tell you anything else I can. I don't make friends easily, but allies I can live with." The gnome grinned.

"Very well, then," Immeral signaled for the barmaid. "Dinner and ale for my friends, if you please, miss." A heavy silence fell on the table while the four waited. Immeral watched, Cora hummed to herself, and Erkie just sat back and smirked. No one is sure of anything yet; we act like allies, but no one is comfortable, Elbreth needed to learn how to read people. That was part of her job.

"Ah-ha!" Erkie's smile widened, if that was even possible, as the barmaid approached with two more bowls of stew, some slices of black bread, and two tankards of ale. Rubbing his slight hands in anticipation, the gnome sat as far forward as he could on his stool, and began.

"We all know Silas DuKell, right?" The name was a sneer on the gnome's lips as he looked up for affirmation, pausing with spoon halfway to his mouth and waiting for nods. "Right," in shoveled a mouthful of stew, carefully chewing around his words. "Well, it soon became apparent that one of the ambitious Baron's reasons for taking that territory around Carhouth was the mines in that area. Now, they're not big, but they do fairly well for their size. DuKell, now, he's not content with that. He decides that the best way to get the shiny stuff out of the earth is to turn it into a big operation. Soon he had teams of men and beasts in, clearing the forest and blasting the mountainside, making a mess of the whole area." The gnome shook his head. "It was miserable! There's little I hate more than a sense of entitlement where none belongs. Those poor forest critters. Let's even the playing field a little, I thought to myself, and I snuck into the work camp to see what I could see." Erkie paused, swabbing the last of the stew from his bowl with a crust of bread. Then, sitting back on his stool, he washed it down with a large draught from his tankard of ale.

"Sneaking in that night was a simple thing, those knights are the laziest pigs I've ever seen. The whole place was lit up with campfires, and the workmen, a motley gang of hobgoblins, orcs, and humans, were all split off in groups. Like with like. You could tell there was tension between groups, as though they didn't quite trust each other. It was the perfect situation. So, I picked my way through the camp, taking a few notable items of personal value and exchanging them with others. For instance," the gnome's mischievous grin returned, "a beautifully carved pipe belonging to a human mysteriously ended up in the rucksack of an orc. A lovely orcish family portrait disappeared, only to turn up under a hobgoblin's pillow. And, my favourite, the trophy-head belonging to the hobgoblin captain somehow ended up in a human stewpot." Another pause, this time waiting for a reaction from his audience.

"Nicely done," indulged Immeral, the tone of his voice impossible to read.

"Well, once I'd spent a few hours messing with them all, it was time to get out of there. Missing items were starting to be noticed, and I wanted to be well away. And good timing, too, I'd just made it to my hiding spot when I saw, well, more heard, really, a fight break out in the camp. That was perfect. Exactly what I wanted. The more chaos I could cause, the better. By the time the overseers got the fights sorted out and everyone calmed down, there was even more tension in the air and tempers were high. It was marvelous. Work the next day was slow, I watched arguments break out all over the place. It was so effective, I decided to do it again the next night. This time, because everyone was already grumpy, the fight broke out even sooner and took longer to split up. Workers were sent to their beds early as a consequence." Erkie chuckled at the memory, "almost nothing was accomplished the next day. Little clusters of men, orcs, and hobgoblins had formed, refusing to work together, each complaining to their overseer for justice. Not a single one trusted the overseer of another race, each one demanded their own for the situation. Productivity ground to a halt as the overseers tried to discover the root of the discord. Unfortunately, I was caught eavesdropping on that meeting. Now, they didn't know what I'd done, and I didn't breathe a word, but they knew I wasn't wanted. While I was tied up, they dyed my hand with this," he put his left hand palm-down on the table, "so that they'd know me again. I don't know what it is."

The gnome's hand had a large black stain in the shape of a four-pointed star. The edges of it were clean, as if it had been drawn on, but it was clearly a tattoo of some kind.

Elbreth leaned forward to examine it more closely, "Has it faded at all?"

"Nah, it hasn't. And I've scrubbed it."

"How long has it been there?"

"About a week." Erkie shifted, pulling his hand away. "Anyhow, I made my way to town, ran into Cora here, swapped stories, and realised we have a common enemy. Now, I don't care for revenge, myself, but I would like to see that Baron taken down a notch or two." Putting down his tankard, he crossed his arms and looked directly at Immeral. "So, what's your story?"

The high elf smiled without true warmth, looking to Elbreth for a moment before taking a breath. "As I said, I'm a Liadon from the elven city of Enfallia. I've been living these last five years with my younger brother, Austowyn Liadon, his wife, Charis Greycastle, and their daughter, Elbreth," he nodded toward his niece, "Elbreth - of Carhouth."

"Greycastle?!" Cora froze, speaking into the ale tankard that was a hair's breadth from touching her lips. Hearing the echo of her own voice, she put it down before continuing. "So, that means you're..." She looked at Elbreth. "You're Mistress Charis' daughter? You're the one the Baron has stolen land from."

Elbreth ducked her head, staring at the scarred tabletop. Cora continued to look hard at the half-elf, Elbreth wanted to squirm.

"I knew your mother, girl." The halfling's voice was soft. "Mistress Greycastle was a truly noble woman. I'm deeply sorry for your loss, your parents were good people."

"Should'a recognised that name, 'Liadon,'" muttered Erkie, frowning a little as he toyed with the handle of his mug. He, too, stared at the girl. Elbreth forced herself to look up and make eye contact with him, catching him eyeing her silver torc and the signet ring on her left hand.

"Thank you for your condolences," she directed at the halfling, turning graciously to look at Cora. "I appreciate it." She then addressed the entire company, "I'm the reason we're here. DuKell has sent his men after me, and we were chased from the Greycastle barony. We've been on the run this last fortnight. My goal, our goal, is to somehow find a way that I can return home. I am not willing to leave our people in the hands of that, that odious Baron!" Elbreth's voice was calm, but her fists were balled together in her lap.

"Let's talk strategy, then, shall we?" Immeral suggested, leaning forward and placing one elbow on the table, deliberately resting his hand on his chin. He looked between Erkie and Cora. The halfling smith leaned forward in her seat, her eyes starting to glimmer.

"Yes, let's!" Erkie suddenly started from his thoughtful gaze at the tower pictured on Elbreth's ring and slapped the table, leaning forward to join Immeral and Cora in a conspiratorial tableaux. "What do we need? A way in?"

"Well," the high elf narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, "we need information to begin with. His resources, his weaknesses. From there we can formulate our plan."

"Right," Cora nodded, pursing her lips, "and to get information, you need money!" Her little face was perfectly serious as she drained the last of her ale.

"Or have connections," smiled Immeral, leaning back again.

He trusts them, Elbreth realised. She looked back and forth between these two newcomers, potential partners, and her uncle. A blacksmith and a - a what? Mischief maker? Scoundrel? An honourable thief? Elbreth inwardly shook her head at the strangeness of her circumstances.

"... money first, then, and connections. Trust." Immeral was summarising, "Let's see if we can make some friends in this town." He placed his palms on the table as if preparing to stand, "Shall we call it an evening, then? Meet back here in the mor...."

Just then the scuffling background noise suddenly grew louder, no longer ignorable. The whole party turned to see what was causing the ruckus. A young half-orc and a dark, burly gnome, both a little drunk, had come to blows. Both of them were huffing and sputtering, so furious that they were unable to coherently communicate their displeasure. Comically, they took turns swinging at each other, staggering awkwardly with each punch. Maddened with frustration, the gnome hunkered his head down and ran full-tilt at the half-orc, catching him off balance and plowing him straight towards the startled party.

Eyes wide, Elbreth jumped up and backed up against the wall, hand hovering over the small dagger on her belt. Her heart was pounding. With cool swiftness, Immeral lept around the table and placed himself as a physical barrier between the brawlers and his charge, avoiding the tumbling stools in the process. Erkie and Cora managed to step out of the way just as the half-orc and the gnome crashed into the table, sending bowls and tankards skittering across the cobblestone and burying spoons in the dried reeds of the floor. Groggily, the two rolled away from each other in the debris, glaring darts at the other as each tried to stand.

"Hey, now!" Shouted practical Cora, "enough of that!" She swung her fist at the gnome, catching him solidly in the side of the head and knocking him down, unconscious.
Overshadowed and cornered, facing down the back of the unaware and intoxicated half-orc, Erkie's face grew dark and he drew his rapier. Scowling, he smacked at the half-orc's ankle bone with the side of the whip-like piece of metal, tripping him up and causing him to faceplant and knock his head, hard, on the cold stone floor. The scowl on Erkie's face was thunderous as he stood over the prone form of the half-orc, sword lowered but still in hand.

"What's all this?!" The owner of the gnomish inn came bustling out from behind his counter at the bar, his face flushed and brows furrowed. "Hey, you there!" He shook his finger at Erkie, "Put that away this instant! You should know better than that!" Erkie looked up, something like remorse marking his features. He sheepishly returned his sword to its scabbard and stepped away from the groggy half-orc. The tavern had grown silent as the crowd watched.

Empty hands open, Immeral stepped forward, "I'm so sorry, sir! It was unintentional, I'm sure." Elbreth relaxed. "We weren't a part of this - tussle, we just happened to be in their way." The high elf smiled charmingly.

"Well, then," the innkeeper straightened to his full three-foot-seven-inch height, "it couldn't really be helped, could it?" He looked down at the mess of shattered table and scattered flatware, complete with snoring gnome. "All's well that ends with fair payment," he said, sticking out his hand. "It'll be at least ten gold to fix all this." He looked expectantly from one to the other. Erkie looked ready to choke, and Cora's mouth was agape. Neither of them made a move toward their money pouches.

"Of course!" Immeral smiled, smoothly pulled out his coin purse and extracted ten gold pieces, placing them in the outstretched hand of the determined proprietor before stooping to help up the bewildered half-orc. Slowly chatter started up again, a slow murmur around the room, as people began to lose interest. Elbreth took a cautious step forward from the wall, her eyes focussed on the half-orc's bloodied left ankle. It had welted, and an angry laceration split the welt evenly.

The gold coins disappeared into the innkeeper's pocket with a jangle, then he waved over a couple of larger gnomes, his bouncers, to help with the casualties. One of them struggled to prop up the catatonic gnome, with Cora's help, against the side wall while the other helped Immeral take the half-orc to the back room. A trail of blood stained the rushes on the floor where his feet had been. Erkie shuffled his toes in the reeds and looked sideways at Elbreth, who pretended not to notice. Soon Immeral and the second bouncer were back and the two bouncers half-carried and half-dragged the dark-haired, inebriated gnome to the door, calling for his family to come take him home, leaving the party alone with the tavern owner.

"Now, then, is there anything else I can do for you fine folks?" The middle-aged tavern owner, hands on hips, chin up, looked expectantly around the circle.

Apparently all does end well, for him, when it ends in 'fair' payment, Elbreth thought, bemused.

"Actually, yes," Immeral righted a stool and sat. "Do you have rooms for tall people?"

"We do!" The innkeeper beamed. "Would you like one? I only have the one tall-person room at the moment, but it has four beds; will you folks need a room as well?" His face turned hopefully to first Cora and then to Erkie.

"Oh, we can share with them," Cora seemed to find his good mood infectious, grinning right back. "If that's okay?" She looked at Immeral, suddenly realising her presumption. Immeral just nodded.

"Excellent, excellent!" He waved for them to follow as he turned and began walking, "I'll show you the way, you folks will be perfectly comfortable. Welcome to Yortlebort!"