The wind had finally died down. Between the hastily raised tents, weary silhouettes still moved about — tending to wounds, filing reports, searching for familiar faces in the crowd.
Sylvara returned from the eastern flank, followed closely by Luno's and Kaelthys's units. Their formation still stood — tired, but intact. Farther off, I spotted Lyss's unit as well — the one we had sent to spy near the Dwarves' club, Black Anvil.
And when the club finally appeared behind her, I froze for a moment.
They had made it.
The Dwarves were here. Around two hundred students, covered in dust, but standing tall. At their head, I recognized two figures that stood out from the rest: a massive man with a grim face, braided beard, and a gaze like stone — Dvarim Brôkhund — and beside him, a woman who seemed to laugh even in the middle of chaos, Brunna Kaelgrun.
Despite my exhaustion, I found myself smiling. So she managed to bring back the Dwarves' club… Sylvara really is competent.
