Day 68 - Morning
I was in the underground drake lair, making structural adjustments based on feedback from our newest resident (who had very specific opinions about proper hoard-chamber acoustics), when Mo appeared at the tunnel entrance.
"Knox, we have visitors. Official delegation type visitors."
"Empire scouts?"
"Dwarves."
I paused mid-enchantment. "Dwarves. As in, actual dwarves? Short, bearded, presumably very opinionated about stonework?"
"That's the ones. They arrived at our gates an hour ago. Very formal. Very armed. Very... nervous?" Mo consulted her notes. "They're requesting audience with 'the Warden who defies the Empire and builds sanctuary for the persecuted.' Direct quote."
"That's surprisingly accurate propaganda."
"That's your reputation spreading. Apparently, word of Ashenhearth has reached the mountain kingdoms." She paused. "Knox, they brought tribute. Actual diplomatic tribute. This is a formal state visit."
"And they're nervous because...?"
"Because you're a demon chimera who adopted arachnae children and recruited Crystal Spiders through negotiation. From their perspective, you're either insane, visionary, or terrifying. Possibly all three."
Fair assessment.
"Give me ten minutes to finish this support beam, then I'll meet them. Formal reception?"
"I'd recommend it. These are dignitaries. They're treating this seriously."
"Then we treat it seriously too. Get Nyx, Thessia, and whoever else wants to observe. Make it look impressive without being threatening."
"On it."
After she left, the Drake's mental voice rumbled through my consciousness: The stone-delvers come. They recognize quality construction when they see it. Approval in its tone. This will be entertaining.
"You know dwarves?"
Drakes live centuries. We know everyone eventually. The stone-delvers respect strength, craftsmanship, and directness. You possess all three. They will either accept you completely or challenge you to drinking contests. Possibly both.
"That's... oddly specific."
I have seen many dwarf delegations. The pattern is consistent.
Formal Reception - Or How I Learned Dwarves Are Very Short and Very Intimidating
The main hall had been hastily arranged for formal reception. Nyx stood at my right in full dragonkin form, radiating controlled power. Thessia at my left, projecting command presence. The rest of my partners positioned strategically around the room, visible, capable, but not threatening.
Aranyx and Dewdrop had been told to observe from the gallery, which they were doing with mixed success. Aranyx was being mature and attentive. Dewdrop kept making excited commentary that echoed through the hall.
"PAPA THEY'RE SO SHORT!"
"Dewdrop, volume," I called up.
"SORRY PAPA! But they're REALLY short! Like, SO short! Are all dwarves tiny?!"
Through her bond, genuine curiosity without malice. She thought being small was a positive trait.
The dwarven delegation entered, and I understood Mo's assessment immediately.
Five dwarves, all in formal armor that was clearly ceremonial but absolutely functional. Intricate metalwork, perfect craftsmanship, designed to impress while remaining practical. They moved like soldiers despite diplomatic trappings.
The leader was female, braided red beard decorated with metal clasps, stern expression, eyes that assessed everything with professional paranoia. She radiated authority despite being maybe four and a half feet tall.
They stopped at appropriate distance, studied us, studied the hall, studied the fortress architecture visible through windows.
The leader's expression shifted slightly. Surprise? Approval?
"Stonework is dwarf-made," she said without preamble. Her voice carried the weight of mountains. "But modified. Enhanced. Improved upon with magic integration and unconventional design philosophy."
"Guilty," I said. "I learned from Thissith, the arachnae matron. She taught me how your people construct, then I adapted it."
"You adapted dwarven stonework?" Not quite offense. More like academic curiosity meeting professional challenge.
"I integrated magical reinforcement into the structural design rather than adding it after construction. More efficient. Stronger end result."
Silence. The dwarves exchanged glances.
Then the leader did something unexpected: she smiled. Not broadly, but genuine.
"I am Thane Grimhild Ironforge, Third Stone-Speaker of Karak Azul, representative of the Mountain Kingdoms' Council." She gestured at her companions. "These are Masters of Stone, Metal, and War. We have come to assess whether rumors of Ashenhearth are truth or fantasy."
"What have the rumors said?"
"That a demon chimera has built sanctuary where all species are welcome. That he defeated Imperial forces through tactics and will rather than raw power. That he adopts orphans and recruits monsters through negotiation. That he builds homes for Crystal Spiders and offers them equal standing with demi-humans." She paused. "That he is either the most dangerous being in the region or the most interesting. We needed to determine which."
"Can't I be both?"
"Aye, you can. That's why we're here."
I liked her immediately. Direct, practical, willing to assess rather than assume.
"Welcome to Ashenhearth, Thane Ironforge. What can we show you that would satisfy your assessment?"
"Everything. I want to see your stonework, your defenses, your weapons manufacture, your integrated society. I want to understand what you're building and whether it will survive what's coming."
"You know about the Empire's assault?"
"Everyone knows. Four thousand Paladins. Ten Chosen. Overwhelming force designed to eliminate you so thoroughly that even mentioning your name becomes heresy." She met my eyes. "We're here to determine if you're worth supporting. Or if we should start preparing refugee accommodations for the survivors."
Brutally honest. I appreciated that.
"Fair enough. Tour starts now."
The Tour - Or How Knox Accidentally Impressed Dwarves
What followed was the most thorough inspection I'd ever experienced.
Grimhild examined everything. Questioned every design choice. Tested structural integrity personally. Her companions were equally meticulous, one studied the metalwork, another assessed defensive positions, a third evaluated the integrated habitat designs.
"These living quarters use vertical space efficiently," the metal-master observed, studying the arachnae homes. "Load-bearing walls positioned to support multiple levels without compromising structural stability. Clever."
"Thank you. We needed to house five hundred people in limited space."
"Most builders would just stack residences without considering long-term stability. You planned for expansion." He ran his hand along a support beam. "This isn't human construction. This is dwarf philosophy applied by non-dwarf."
"I had good teachers."
We showed them the workshop where equipment was being manufactured. Mo had organized production lines with impressive efficiency. Lyria was testing medical equipment with careful focus. Velara was enhancing weapons with necromantic properties while explaining the ethical applications to curious workers.
Grimhild stopped at the armor production line, picked up a piece in progress, examined it with expert eyes.
"Layered construction. Ceramic plates. Enchanted silk. Flexible integration." She looked at me. "This is beyond standard demi-human craft. Where did you learn this?"
"Earth. World I came from. Different technology base but similar material science principles."
"Earth," she repeated. "The transmigrator rumors are true then."
"Unfortunately. Died there, woke up here, been improvising ever since."
"Hm." She set down the armor. "Your improvisation is better than most people's expertise."
From Grimhild, that sounded like high praise.
We showed them the creature habitats. The raptors watched from their den with predatory interest. The Crystal Spiders' garden sparkled with magical resonance. The Shadow Wolves materialized briefly before disappearing back into darkness.
"You really did recruit monsters," one of the dwarf warriors said, sounding caught between impressed and concerned.
"I recruited allies. The 'monster' label is subjective."
"Subjective," Grimhild echoed. "Most would say Crystal Spiders are objective threats."
"Most haven't negotiated with them properly."
"And you did?"
"I offered them what they needed: safe territory, guaranteed food sources, protection from persecution. They offered combat support in return. Practical exchange."
Grimhild studied the crystal gardens with professional interest. "These generate ambient magical energy that the spiders feed on?"
"Exactly. Sustainable food source that doesn't require them to hunt our population."
"Clever. Solves the predator-integration problem through environmental design rather than behavioral restriction." She nodded approvingly. "Most people try to change the predator. You changed the environment."
"Easier to build infrastructure than modify instincts."
"Spoken like a dwarf." She turned to her companions. "Thoughts?"
They conferred briefly in rapid dwarven, a language that sounded like gravel in a cement mixer but somehow melodious.
Then Grimhild turned back to me. "We're impressed. Not easily impressed, mind you. But impressed. You've taken dwarven construction philosophy, integrated it with unconventional species, adapted it for magical enhancement, and created something unprecedented."
"Thank you?"
"That wasn't a compliment. That was assessment." She paused. "But yes, also a compliment. Knox Ashford, you build like a dwarf thinks. Practically, permanently, with consideration for long-term stability and integrated function."
"Is that good?"
"That's the highest praise I can give. You're not dwarf-made, but you're dwarf-minded." She looked at her companions. "I'm making a formal recommendation."
"Recommendation?"
"That the Mountain Kingdoms offer Ashenhearth official trade alliance and defensive pact. You're building something worth supporting. And you think like our people despite being..." She gestured at me. "Whatever you are."
"Demon-dragon-astral chimera with growing divine spark," I supplied helpfully.
"That. Whatever that is." She smiled slightly. "Also, I'm adopting you."
I blinked. "What?"
"Adopting you. Formally. As my son. By dwarven custom, anyone who builds with proper stone-philosophy can be adopted into a clan if they demonstrate sufficient worthiness. You've demonstrated sufficiency. I'm claiming you."
"Thane, I'm already adopted. And married. And have children."
"Irrelevant. Dwarven adoption is about craft and philosophy, not blood. You think like proper dwarf, you get adopted by dwarf." She said it with absolute finality. "You're now honorary son of Clan Ironforge. This is not negotiable."
Through the bonds, I felt everyone's amusement. Nyx was actively laughing through our connection.
"I don't get a say in this?"
"No. Adoption is gift and honor. You accept both." Grimhild pulled out a metal token, beautifully crafted, inscribed with runes. "This is clan-mark. Wear it, and every dwarf in the Mountain Kingdoms knows you're Ironforge-adopted. Means you get clan-trade rates, defensive support if needed, and invitation to yearly clan gatherings."
"Yearly gatherings?"
"Enormous feasts with excessive drinking, boasting about craft achievements, and competitive stone-shaping. You'll love it." She pressed the token into my hand. "Now accept adoption before I get emotional. Dwarves don't do emotional well in public."
I looked at the token, at Grimhild's expression (which suggested refusing wasn't actually an option), at my family (who were all trying not to laugh).
"Fine. I accept adoption into Clan Ironforge. Thank you for the honor."
"Excellent. Now I have impressive demon-chimera son who builds like proper dwarf. All other thanes will be jealous." She seemed genuinely pleased. "This is good day for Clan Ironforge."
"MOM GRIMHILD!" Dewdrop called from the gallery. "Does this mean Papa Knox has DWARF FAMILY now?!"
"Aye, small glowing one! The chimera is now honorary Ironforge!"
"THAT'S AMAZING! Papa has SO MANY families now! This is the best!"
Through her bond, pure joy at Papa's expanding family network. More family meant more people to love Papa Knox, which was obviously optimal.
Diplomatic Lunch - Where Things Get Complicated
The "formal diplomatic lunch" turned into enthusiastic discussion about construction philosophy, defensive engineering, and apparently, Knox's surprising worthiness for adoption.
"You really just adopted him," one of the other dwarves said, sounding caught between amused and exasperated. "Without consulting the Council."
"Council gave me authority to assess and act as needed. I assessed. I acted. Knox is now son." Grimhild said it with the confidence of someone who'd made similar unilateral decisions before. "They'll understand when they meet him."
"Thane, he's a demon."
"He's a demon who builds like a dwarf and thinks like a dwarf and has clearly internalized proper stone-philosophy despite being whatever-he-is. Species is irrelevant when craft is involved."
I was sitting between Nyx (who kept sending amused affection through our bond) and Thessia (who was handling diplomatic protocol since I clearly couldn't be trusted with it).
"So," I said carefully, "this adoption. Does it come with obligations?"
"Only to visit clan-hold eventually, accept trade offers, and not embarrass Clan Ironforge through egregiously non-dwarf behavior." Grimhild paused. "Also, you'll need to attend my daughter's wedding next year. Fair warning, dwarven weddings last a week and involve dangerous amounts of alcohol."
"Your daughter is getting married?"
"Aye. To a nice lad from Clan Steelheart. Good metal-worker, terrible singer, decent stone-sense. She chose well." Grimhild studied me. "You'll like her. She's got your same practical approach to impossible problems."
Through the bonds, I felt everyone processing this. I'd been formally adopted by a dwarf thane. This was now a thing.
"Grimhild, I appreciate the honor, but I'm not sure how this works with my existing family structure."
"Works fine. Dwarven adoption adds to family, doesn't replace. Your mates are still your mates. Your children are still your children. You just also have dwarf clan-mother now who expects occasional visits and probably excessive updates about construction projects."
"That's... actually not that different from any other parental relationship."
"Exactly! You understand!" She seemed delighted. "This is why you were worth adopting. You grasp fundamental concepts quickly."
Kas leaned over. "Knox, you got adopted by a dwarf. How does this keep happening to you?"
"I have no idea. Apparently, I'm adoptable."
"You adopted Web and Dewdrop. Now you're being adopted yourself. The circle is complete."
"That's not how circles work."
"It's poetic symmetry!"
Yuzu was discussing trade agreements with the metal-master, her diplomatic skills on full display. "So the Mountain Kingdoms would be willing to provide metal ingots at clan-rates? That would significantly improve our weapons production."
"Aye, assuming the alliance is formalized. Clan Ironforge will sponsor Ashenhearth. Other clans will follow our lead once they understand what Knox is building."
"And what is he building, in your assessment?"
The metal-master glanced at me, then back to Yuzu. "Something unprecedented. A society where craft and contribution matter more than species or origin. That's dwarven philosophy. We respect that. Even from non-dwarves."
Mo was in deep discussion with the war-master about defensive positioning. "Your assessment of our fortifications?"
"Solid. Clever use of terrain. Good overlapping fire lanes. But you need more depth. More fallback positions. More redundancy." He sketched rapidly. "Here, here, and here... add secondary walls. Create kill-boxes. Make every meter of ground attackers take cost them disproportionately."
"That's what I've been saying!" Mo looked vindicated. "Knox keeps designing for aesthetic integration. I keep arguing we need pure defensive optimization."
"Knox is right about aesthetic integration," the war-master countered. "Defenders fight better when defending something beautiful. But you're right about defensive depth. Combine both... beautiful AND murderously effective."
"I like how you think."
Siraq was explaining our medical systems to the stone-master, who was surprisingly interested in the healing-station design. "The diagnostic beds use enchanted stone? How does that work with living tissue?"
"The stone conducts healing magic more efficiently than air," Lyria explained, joining the conversation. "We discovered that certain rock types resonate with life-force frequencies. So we built beds from that stone, enchanted them for amplification, and now healers can treat more patients simultaneously."
"That's brilliant! And you figured this out through experimentation?"
"Through a lot of trial and error. And accidental discoveries. And several explosions that Knox doesn't like to talk about."
"Explosions are learning experiences," I called over.
"Explosions are terrifying," Lyria corrected. "But yes, also educational."
The stone-master was making excited notes. "Can I see these diagnostic beds? I have ideas about crystal integration that might enhance the effect."
"YES! I love collaboration!"
Velara had been observing quietly, but the war-master noticed her and approached carefully. "You're the necromancer the rumors mention."
"I am. Problem?"
"No problem. Question: Can necromantic magic be used defensively? For protecting living allies?"
Velara blinked, surprised. "Most people ask if I can raise undead armies."
"Most people are unimaginative. I'm asking if your magic has tactical applications beyond obvious offense."
"It... yes, actually. Necromantic energy can drain enemy vitality, transfer it to wounded allies, create life-barriers that absorb damage. I've been developing those applications for Ashenhearth's defense."
"Show me. I want to integrate that into our defensive planning."
Through Velara's presence, surprised gratification. The dwarf wasn't judging her for necromancy, just assessing practical applications.
Evening Integration
As the day progressed, the dwarven delegation integrated seamlessly into Ashenhearth's chaos. They examined everything, offered suggestions, shared techniques, and generally treated the whole fortress like an ongoing construction project they had opinions about.
"Your forge is adequate but inefficient," the metal-master told our blacksmiths. "The air flow is wrong. Let me show you proper dwarf technique."
What followed was an impromptu masterclass in metallurgy that had our smiths taking furious notes.
The stone-master found the underground drake lair and spent an hour discussing optimal cavern architecture with the Drake itself, who seemed amused by the dwarf's professional dedication.
You stone-delvers are strange but practical, the Drake observed. I appreciate practical.
"We appreciate ancient serpents who understand proper load-bearing principles," the stone-master responded. "This lair could be improved with strategic pillar placement."
I enjoy this one. It may stay.
The war-master was drilling our defenders with Kas, both of them enthusiastically discussing the joy of hitting things really hard but with strategy.
"Your enthusiasm is admirable," he told Kas. "Your technique is adequate. But your follow-through is lacking."
"MY FOLLOW-THROUGH IS EXCELLENT!"
"Your follow-through is explosive but uncontrolled. Let me show you how to channel that force more efficiently."
What followed was Kas getting instruction from someone who actually understood her fighting style and had suggestions for improvement. Through her bond, I felt excitement mixed with the joy of finding someone who took her seriously.
Grimhild found me on the walls, watching the organized chaos of my fortress.
"You've built something remarkable," she said quietly. "Not just the physical structure. The community. The integrated society. The way everyone works together despite differences."
"Thank you."
"Also, you're clearly overwhelmed by responsibility and running on stubbornness and spite."
I looked at her. "How did you... "
"I've built three clan-holds from scratch. I recognize the signs. You're doing too much, delegating too little, and probably not sleeping enough." Her expression was stern but fond. "That's why you needed clan-mother. Someone to tell you when you're being idiot."
"I have people who tell me that."
"You have mates who love you. Different thing. I'm clan-mother. I can be blunt without emotional complication." She poked my chest. "You need to sleep more. Eat properly. Let others handle some responsibilities. You're building army and society simultaneously. That's impossible task. Stop trying to do it alone."
"I'm not alone. I have... "
"You have family helping. But you still carry primary burden. That's admirable but unsustainable." She crossed her arms. "So here's what's happening. I'm leaving three of my people here, temporarily, to help with construction and defensive preparations. Consider it clan investment in worthy son's survival."
"You don't have to... "
"I'm not asking permission. I'm informing you of decision. You're Ironforge-adopted now. That means clan supports you. Accept support or I'll get emotional and dwarves don't do emotional well."
Through the bonds, I felt everyone's approval. More help was desperately needed, and apparently, getting adopted by dwarves came with practical benefits.
"Thank you, Mom Grimhild."
She actually flushed slightly. "Don't call me Mom in public. It's undignified for thane."
"But acceptable in private?"
"...In private, acceptable. Maybe." She cleared her throat. "Now show me your personal quarters. I need to assess your living conditions and probably criticize them for inadequate dwarf standards."
Dinner Chaos
The evening meal turned into cultural integration chaos. The dwarves brought their own alcohol (which was concerning) and insisted everyone try it (which was more concerning).
"This is clan-special!" Grimhild announced, pouring generous portions. "Recipe passed down for generations! Guaranteed to make humans unconscious and demons reconsider life choices!"
"That's not reassuring," I said, examining the suspiciously glowing liquid.
"It's not supposed to be reassuring! It's supposed to be effective!" She raised her mug. "To Ashenhearth! To Clan Ironforge's newest son! To building things properly despite overwhelming odds!"
Everyone drank.
The alcohol was... intense. Like drinking liquid fire mixed with someone's terrible life decisions and a hint of regret.
"THAT'S AMAZING!" Kas shouted. "MORE!"
"NO MORE FOR THE ONI!" Grimhild declared. "She'll drink entire barrel and then challenge everyone to combat!"
"I ABSOLUTELY WILL!"
"THIS IS WHY NO MORE!"
Through the bonds, everyone's varying reactions to dwarf alcohol:
Nyx: Amused tolerance (dragons have high alcohol resistance) Kas: Enthusiastic demand for more (Oni apparently also have high resistance) Yuzu: Calculated sipping (she was pacing herself strategically) Mo: Taking samples for chemical analysis (of course) Siraq: Matching Grimhild drink-for-drink (bear kin vs dwarf drinking contest forming) Lira and Pip: Wisely abstaining (tiny fairies and strong alcohol don't mix)
The three arachnae were watching the chaos with varying expressions:
Lyria looked nervous but curious. "Should we try it?"
"Only if you want to test your healing magic on alcohol poisoning," Velara said dryly.
"I'm trying it," Thessia decided, pouring herself a measure. She drank, paused, and nodded approvingly. "That's quality spirits. Burns correctly."
"You have experience with dwarf alcohol?" I asked.
"Led a caravan for five years. Dwarves trade for quality goods. Including quality alcohol." She poured more. "This is excellent vintage."
Grimhild looked impressed. "You have good taste, spider-woman."
"Thank you, small bearded woman."
They clinked mugs, and I watched the beginning of what would probably be a beautiful friendship based on mutual appreciation for strong drinks and direct communication.
Aranyx approached carefully. "Papa, can I try... "
"No."
"But Papa... "
"You're two weeks into being a teenager. Alcohol is not on the approved activities list."
"That's not FAIR! Everyone else... "
"Everyone else is an adult who can make terrible decisions. You're my daughter who I'm protecting from making terrible decisions too early." I softened slightly. "When you're older. Not now."
Through our bond, teenage frustration mixed with acceptance. She understood the logic even if she didn't like it.
Dewdrop flew over, wobbling slightly in the air. "Papa, I tried a TINY sip and now everything is SPINNY! But GOOD spinny! Like WHEEE spinny!"
"Who gave Dewdrop alcohol?!"
"SHE STOLE IT!" Lira flew over, looking apologetic. "We turned around for ONE SECOND... "
"I was CURIOUS!" Dewdrop giggled. "Mama Kas said it was AMAZING so I wanted to try and now WHEEE... "
She did a loop, crashed into a banner, giggled more.
"Dewdrop is drunk," I said flatly.
"DEWDROP IS GREAT!" she corrected. "Everything is WONDERFUL! Papa you should try being TINY and DRUNK! It's very SPINNY!"
Through her bond, absolute joy mixed with alcohol-induced euphoria and zero regrets about her choices.
"Someone get her water. Lots of water."
"I don't WANT water! I want MORE SPINNY!"
"No more spinny. Water and sleep."
"PAPA YOU'RE BEING RESPONSIBLE! DON'T BE RESPONSIBLE! BE FUN!"
"I'm being both. That's called parenting."
Kas caught Dewdrop mid-flight. "Come on, little warrior. Let's get you to bed before you discover fairy hangovers are terrible."
"MAMA KAS! Tell Papa to be less responsible!"
"Papa's right. But yes, drinking was fun while it lasted. Come on."
After they left, Grimhild looked at me with approval. "You parent well. Firm but kind. That's proper dwarf approach."
"I'm improvising."
"You improvise like someone with actual sense. That's rare." She refilled her mug. "Now, let's discuss defensive fortifications and why you need more murder-holes in your outer walls."
"We're calling them tactical apertures."
"We're calling them murder-holes because that's what they're for. Aesthetic names don't change function."
"But aesthetic names make people feel better about the murder."
"...That's actually fair point."
Night Council
Later, after the dwarves had retired to guest quarters (still offering suggestions about proper room ventilation), I gathered my core family.
"So," I said. "We have dwarven alliance, three craftsmasters staying to help, and apparently, I've been adopted by a thane."
"I build things. People who like building apparently adopt me."
"That's very specific adoption criteria."
"That's my life now." I pulled out the clan-token Grimhild had given me. "But seriously, this is good. Dwarven support means metal supplies, construction expertise, and potential military alliance."
"Also means you have dwarf clan-mother who will criticize your life choices," Mo observed.
"She already did. Apparently, I need to sleep more."
"She's not wrong."
"I sleep adequately."
"You sleep four hours a night while doing seventeen different jobs. That's not adequate, that's concerning."
Through all the bonds, agreement. Apparently, everyone had been worried about my sleep schedule.
"I'll sleep more when we're not preparing for existential battle."
"You'll sleep more now because clan-mother ordered it and dwarves are surprisingly persuasive," Nyx corrected. "She's right, Knox. You're burning yourself out. We can handle more responsibilities. Let us."
She was probably right.
"Fine. I'll delegate more. Sleep more. Be less of a disaster."
"Don't be less of a disaster," Kas said. "Disaster-Knox recruited Crystal Spiders and got adopted by dwarves. Disaster-Knox is productive."
"Be a sustainable disaster," Yuzu amended. "Productive but not self-destructive."
"I'll work on that."
Through the bonds, everyone's love mixed with concern mixed with exasperation. My family was getting very good at handling my particular brand of chaos.
"Eight weeks until the Empire arrives," I said. "We have equipment production running, defensive fortifications improving with dwarf help, creature allies integrated, and now dwarven alliance forming. We're actually building something that might work."
"We're building something unprecedented," Thessia corrected. "A multi-species society with creature integration, dwarven support, and leadership that got adopted by a thane through sheer competence. The Empire has no framework for handling this."
"That's the plan. Be so weird they don't know how to fight us."
"That's actually viable strategy," she said seriously. "Unconventional forces defeat conventional armies through unpredictability. You're maximizing unpredictability while maintaining underlying strategic coherence."
"I'm making it up and hoping it works."
"You're adapting brilliantly while pretending you're making it up. There's a difference."
Through all the bonds, faith in the impossible plan we were building together.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. But tonight, we had dwarven allies, clan adoption, and a tiny drunk fairy who'd need hydration and aspirin in the morning.
Ridiculous was becoming our normal.
And somehow, that felt exactly right.
[EIGHT WEEKS UNTIL ASSAULT]
[DWARVEN ALLIANCE: SECURED]
[KNOX: OFFICIALLY ADOPTED BY THANE GRIMHILD]
[RUNNING JOKE: ESTABLISHED]
[THREE DWARVEN CRAFTMASTERS: STAYING TO HELP]
[DEWDROP: EXPERIENCED FIRST HANGOVER]
[CONSTRUCTION EXPERTISE: SIGNIFICANTLY UPGRADED]