When Lorian appeared in front of the guest room, he found Rena Tharford already standing by the door. He had summoned Lucien's adjutant to meet him there, and the girl was waiting for him exactly as ordered. Noticing Lorian's arrival, she quickly snapped to attention. "Good morning, my Lord!" she greeted.
Lorian offered a small, genuine smile, "Good day, Adjutant Tharford. My apologies for making you wait!"
Rena was completely startled. A Lord offering an apology to a subordinate was a concept that didn't quite fit into her worldview. However, she quickly recalled the rumors regarding the new Lord of Veridia, that the boy was very odd, possessing manners that didn't exactly match his station. She merely murmured, "Please do not say such things, my Lord. It is my duty!"
Lorian caught the hint of what was going on in her mind. He reminded himself that he was now in a medieval world where ranks and designations were absolute. He simply nodded, "Let's go."
On her signal, the guards at the door opened it. Rena escorted Lorian into the guestroom. It was a makeshift arrangement- in reality, a lesser-used dungeon sector. However, following Lorian's orders the room had been refurbished quickly; the stone walls had been scrubbed, thick rugs now covered the cold floors, and new furniture had been brought in to make it as comfortable and luxurious as possible.
Inside, the four dwarves-Thollion Hammerhold, Irina Hammerhold, Daren and Gracy Hammerhold were standing in a perfect line. As Lorian entered, they bowed in unison to welcome him. They had been intimidated earlier by the news of the New Lord's arrival, and they were clearly braced for a difficult meeting.
Lorian acknowledged their welcome with a gentle nod and a smile, "I hope these new arrangements are all right for you!"
"You are too kind, my Lord," said Thollion, "You have given us food, shelter, and security without asking for anything in return. We are overwhelmed by your mercy, oh Great Lord."
"That's great!" Lorian said, taking a seat and signaling everyone in the room to sit as well. The dwarves hesitated for a moment before complying, "However, today I have come to ask you for something."
Thollion and Irina's facial expressions shifted instantly. They looked confused and scared, as they looked at each other first and then back at Lorian.
"We are penniless, my Lord," Thollion said in a pleading tone, "What can poor souls like us give which a man of your stature does not possess already?"
Lorian didn't answer immediately. He leaned forward, and looked directly into Thollion's eyes casting a piercing gaze, "Truth. Pure, unbridled, total TRUTH. And this time, it is non-negotiable!"
The dwarves' faces turned sickly pale. Thollion gulped, "My Lord..."
"Don't test my patience or insult my intellect by acting innocent!" Lorian's voice dropped into a cold, commanding tone that echoed off the refurbished stone walls, "You really think I buy your lies? You two are not married, and these two children are not yours. Now, speak the truth, or you will face dire consequences that may make you regret your decision to escape from whatever you are running from!"
The silence in the room became heavy, suffocating. Rena looked at Lorian, and with a quick nod from him, she stepped forward to add the weight of the Spire's authority. "Whatever you reply, we have our means to check their authenticity," Rena said in her professional and firm voice, "And we indeed will check it. However, if you cooperate, know that our Lord is indeed merciful and he will help you beyond what you could have anticipated, if he feels you deserve such. Real wisdom is coming clean to our Lord now." Rena quickly shifted her tone to a compassionate one, "You need to trust people at some point. You cannot live forever as fugitives built on a lie!"
Thollion opened his mouth to protest, to offer one last deflection, but Irina grabbed his shoulder with a firm, silencing grip. She shook her head slowly, her eyes telling him it was futile to lie any longer. Thollion's shoulders slumped as he accepted defeat, hanging his head low.
Irina began to speak now. Her voice was no longer that of a frightened peasant; it was dignified, and dipped in a strange sadness, "You are indeed correct, my Lord. However, may this poor soul beg for your word before I comply with your order?"
"I am not going to give you my word without knowing what you are asking for!" Lorian spoke firmly, his eyes never leaving hers, "I am not one to give my word easily, only to break it later at my whim!"
"As expected of a Great Lord," Irina exhaled a long, shaky breath, "I beg you, oh Great Lord of the City of Veridia; whatever you decide to do with us, kindly spare these two innocent children. Take them under your wing. They need your care and protection, my Lord. They need..."
Lorian didn't let her finish. He nodded, "No harm will come to them as long as I breathe. You have my word."
Thollion and Irina's eyes glistened with sudden, raw emotion. Without a word, they slipped from their chairs and dropped to their knees, touching their foreheads to the rug in front of Lorian, "That's all we could have asked for, my Lord; that's all we could have asked."
Lorian rested his back against the furs of his chair, "Now, get up on your feet and explain everything in detail!"
"Indeed, my Lord, we will!" said Thollion as they stood. Lorian noticed their posture had changed, "As you rightly deducted, we are not husband and wife, nor are these children ours. I am Tholme Shield-Breaker, Thane to the late Jarl Gorjen Stone-Shaper."
He pointed toward the young boy and girl, who were sitting huddled together, "These are the children of my Lord. He is Thegn-Heir Doren Stone-Shaper, and she is Maiden Grizelda Stone-Shaper."
"And I am Runa Iron-Mantle," the woman spoke, her eyes were now full of new-found resolve, "The Royal Governess of these kids."
Tholme took over, "The name 'Stone-Shaper' is not simply a title, Lord Lorian. House Stone-Shaper is one of the few bloodlines that can trace its roots back to the First Generation,- the Keepers who walked these peaks before the first tunnel was ever struck. In those days, dwarves did not just dig; they spoke to the stone. They used the echo of their own voices to scan the deep earth, hearing the shape of the world before they ever touched it. But as the centuries turned to millennia, the greed for gold grew louder than the song of the mountain. The art was lost... or so everyone believed."
He rolled his head back, closing his eyes as if searching for strength, "It was Jarl Gorjen Stone-Shaper who rediscovered the truth again. Our Lord was a bookworm, a man who used to spent all his spare time in the Royal Archives. While surfing through dusty, forgotten tomes, he unearthed manuscripts belonging to the first Keepers. From those pages, he not only learned the art of 'Stone-Speaking' but encountered the old theory that the mountain is a living, breathing entity."
Tholme leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper, "He spent years alone in the deep tunnels, singing to the bedrock until the mountain finally began replying. He discovered that the mountain is dying. Our indiscriminate mining, the thermal-cracking, the greed... it has turned the living stone into a rotting corpse. He summoned the Moot and shared his findings. He told the Council that if we did not cease all mining for fifty years to let the mountain heal, the 'gifts' would stop forever. No more gold, no more gems;- only barren rock, until the dead mountain finally collapsed to crush us all."
Tholme's voice broke, and he looked at Runa. Her eyes were moist, but they glowed like a hearth-fire in the dim room. She continued on his behalf.
"The Council did not listen. No one was interested in the Jarl's warning. The Merchant Guilds saw only the death of their profits. The Priests called it heresy to suggest the mountain was a living creature rather than a gift from the gods. However, it was the High King who struck the final blow."
She stepped closer, speaking in hushed cautious tone, "Ancient law dictates that only a Stone-Speaker may sit upon the High Throne. When the art was lost, the law was ignored. But if the people believed Gorjen had mastered the old ways, he would be the rightful King. So, instead of a savior, the High King saw a rival. He secretly sanctioned a purge, blessed by the Church and the Guilds. He ordered House Stone-Shaper erased from history to protect his crown."
Runa's hand tightened on the back of Grizelda's chair, "House Obsidian-Spine and House Black-Reach had always coveted our gold veins. With the High King's blessing, they pounced upon House Stone-Shaper, indiscriminately slaughtering our people. We are still running, Lord Lorian. They are hellbent on erasing a bloodline that holds a 'Key' the King wants buried forever. They want the children dead because their voices are the only ones left that can 'speak' to the mountain."
When the dwarves stopped speaking, there was pin-drop silence in the room. Lorian sat still, digesting all that information.
"So," Lorian finally broke the silence, "The children have the ability to speak to Stone?"
"No, Lord Lorian," Tholme replied, "Only after reaching puberty do dwarven children develop the physical capacity to speak to stone. However, my Jarl taught Runa and me the art so that we could pass the knowledge to the Thegn-Heir and the Maiden when they come of age."
"We were surprised when the Jarl decided to teach us the sacred art," Runa gave a sad, flickering smile, "But now, in hindsight, we realize the wise Jarl must have foreseen this outcome. Guided by instinct, he taught us lowly servants the secret art so it would not die with him."
Inside, Lorian was ecstatic. He felt as though he had walked into a pawn shop to buy a trinket and walked out with a kingdom's crown jewels. On the outside, he was still stoic as a stone sculpture, but his merchant's instinct was screaming that he had secured something far too precious to ever let go.
He stood up, drawing every eye in the room to him, "From now on, you all are under my wing. No harm will come to you four, as long as you agree to serve under me!"
Tholme and Runa looked at each other with utter surprise and a surging, desperate joy. They bowed together, "Our lives now belong to you, Lord Throne!"
"Oh, and one more thing," Lorian said, pausing at the doorway as the guards prepared to close it. "Keep your false identities for now. I don't want to deal with the trouble of dwarven assassins for the time being. However, if you help me, I promise,- soon you four will live with your real names again. And perhaps, one day, the heirs will regain their rightful place in the heart of the mountain."