> “A tankard.” Master Carinda is an avid drinker, but an insatiable drunkard. When she first came to the hamlet, none of the drinks the locals could provide satisfied her. It came to a point she had to begin brewing her own spirits: strong and ambrosial. It spread and became the best drink known to the provinces, with a very limited supply. You are certain Carinda will appreciate a drinkware masterpiece; as well as a gift.
> “A beard bead.” Female dwarfs do not grow facial hair, but they are envious of the lush and great beards their fathers and brothers. The female dwarfs comb, wax, and braid their long hair curls in form of a beard up front their nose and lips to imitate, and an decorated bead is a centerpiece of such hairstyle. When Carinda first came to the hamlet, she wore such a piece but, soon after, decided to stop, as it made the locals uncomfortable. Once back at her homeland, you’d be happy for her to use your masterpiece and gift.
> “A bracelet.” Dwarfs - especially the blacksmiths and miners - do not wear ring pieces, their are uncomfortable and fragile for the indelicate work they perform daily. That includes the wedding rings, which they have replaced by wrist bracelets. Ornamental, made out of the first-rate alloys and metals, and difficult to craft - those bracelets represent the same thing: eternal love and commitment within a relationship. If Carina was to receive such a gift from you, she would know of your latent feelings; crafting a masterpiece might be your last chance to do so. The law requires you to stay in the smithy after Carinda leaves, but - maybe - Carinda will accept and stay her with you?
> “I’d like to show it to you only when it’s ready.” - Please pick one of the above as well.
> “I have not decided yet.”

>Is this a LOTR fanfic?
>No.

>What is this?
>A oneshot quest about an apprentice and his female dwarf master.

>Who are we?
>A 17-year-old human apprentice named Julian in the small human hamlet of Crisscross.

>How often will you update?
>I want to update a few times at the very start and then every day thereafter, with enough time to let people cast their votes.

>How many options can I pick?
>Please pick only one unless stated otherwise. If you are to pick more, make sure you understand that there’s a possibility it will make things harder for the MC.

>Will there be mechanics and rolls?
>Not in this quest.

>Where are the images from?
>Heavily edited OP pic. Credit to the original owners/creators.

>>5054660
> “A beard bead.” Female dwarfs do not grow facial hair, but they are envious of the lush and great beards their fathers and brothers. The female dwarfs comb, wax, and braid their long hair curls in form of a beard up front their nose and lips to imitate, and an decorated bead is a centerpiece of such hairstyle. When Carinda first came to the hamlet, she wore such a piece but, soon after, decided to stop, as it made the locals uncomfortable. Once back at her homeland, you’d be happy for her to use your masterpiece and gift.
Seems like a nice gift, one that will be remembered no matter how their relationship evolves in the future. As prestigious she could wear to spread your name recognition too, I reckon.
I feel bad for all this effort not to get at least one reply, so here goes.

>>5054660
> “I’d like to show it to you only when it’s ready.”
> “A bracelet.”

Let's not spoil the surprise.

>>5054660
"A codpiece"
"I would like to show it to you right now"

>>5054659
>“I’d like to show it to you only when it’s ready.”
>A beard bead

>>5054660
>> “A beard bead.” Female dwarfs do not grow facial hair, but they are envious of the lush and great beards their fathers and brothers. The female dwarfs comb, wax, and braid their long hair curls in form of a beard up front their nose and lips to imitate, and an decorated bead is a centerpiece of such hairstyle. When Carinda first came to the hamlet, she wore such a piece but, soon after, decided to stop, as it made the locals uncomfortable. Once back at her homeland, you’d be happy for her to use your masterpiece and gift.

“I would like to show you when it’s ready,” you said. “A surprise."

“A surprise?” Carinda creaked both of her shoulders. She was not blinking. Completely drenched in sweat, she was inattentive to it, and never let it bother her. She pushed the end of her hammer against your chest and snorted, “Very well, consider me curious.” While scrutinizing you, her fingers rummaged through the pile of fit horseshoes before picking one and raising it to her eyes. Because of her appraisal, your heart was beating even faster. After a few drawn-out seconds, she punctiliously placed it back into the pile.

“Once you start, you start,” she approached the exit to live you by yourself. “The instant you finish with this, concentrate on your masterpiece solely. Don’t worry about anything else,” she smiled with a big and jolly, horse-like grin. “I’m not putting any pressure with a time limit”

Despite the smithy’s door being heavy and stiff, she closed it with no grind of the hinges or any echoing thump. Once you saw the shadow of a half-head walk across the window and then vanish, you were sure she was gone. Unable to contain your choking breathe, you put away the tools to take a break. Beri had a stable, and a few dozen horses, but he ordered a ton more of the horseshoes to be certain; over and above.

‘As long as he pays’. You sigh to no one but yourself.

You decided a few days ago your masterpiece was going to be a beard bead. You were going to make it look as intricate and well-crafted as any dwarf could make. Carinda wore it for a couple of weeks when she first came to Crisscross. You were only a teen to catch a brief glance of the thing she had. You found it foolish and absurd. People chuckled behind her back but it is unlikely she stopped wearing it because of that. You were not going to rummage through her room and wardrobes in hope of finding it for reference. You had another way.

Leaving the smithy, you climbed the stairs to enter the main floor inside the charming shop. As soon as Carinda became the local blacksmith, the town placed itself on the map and into documentations. Crisscross became popular and many people, poor and rich, came to visit and browse and buy. Carinda made sure her foundry looked the part. Aside from the fireplace, the counter, the endless display of dwarven masterwork, the hanging jewel lanterns, and other “typical” things, in here there stood a tight bookshelf. Books from Carinda’s homeland. Dwarven books.

She brought them to read but, after several years, she grew bored of them... She did not mind you, her apprentice, browsing through them and their engraved wood-burned illustrations. Regular pages would burn immediately but those pages were wooden and hard to turn. The language inside was foreign and hard to decipher. It was very unlike the one your mother and father taught you. Even then, you spend longer than any other kid learning the very basics of writing.

File: jasper-jiahao-han-product(...).jpg (1.09 MB, 1920x1358)

1.09 MB JPG

A rescue came a few years ago in form of a visitor, a human trader who knew how to read dwarven language. If was not cheap, in return he asked for either money - Carinda paid you in fair - or the crafts of your own making.

You flipped through the pages until you found an entire chapter filled with information on the beard beads and illustrations. You learned little, but enough to study the blueprints provided. It wasn’t going to be a regular masterwork, it was to be special, unique, grandiose, to rival a masterpiece of any human or dwarf!

Perhaps, a bit harder to craft than what you usually make, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

A bell rang as you found the design you liked. You hoped Carinda was going to like it as well.

“Master Carinda left a few minutes ago, she should be here later today,” you answered before you saw the man before you.

“That’s fine, Julian,” he stumbled inside, still buttoning the upper side of his vest and jacket. “It’s nothing you can’t do for me.”

“…Nails?” You asked him. Not a hard guess. Jacob was checking his pockets and tossing a glance inside his rugged hide poach.
“I need more. Could you please make me as much as you can by morning?”

“What happened to the bunch I made you yesterday?” you asked.

“I’m empty-handed. I am working on a very big and important project…s Julian.”

Lost. The nails as not as easy to find once they fall into the thick grass; if they were seeds, metal trees and shrubbery would fill Crisscross.

>"You know what? I’ll make it even better, I’ll deliver them to you tomorrow.”
>“I am sorry, I am focusing on my masterwork starting today.”
>“Alright, Jacob. It shouldn’t take much time, I’ll make you a few and leave you-know-where for you to take, pay as usual.”
>"I could ask Master Carinda if she is able to handle them once she is back, but she is pretty busy right now - I make no promises.”

>>5054936
>"I am sorry, I am focusing on my masterwork starting today."

Carinda was quite clear. If he could tell us WHY he needs so many nails, mind you... Well, maybe we could reconsider.

“I am sorry, I am focusing on my masterwork starting today.”

“Oh,” he put his hands over his hips and dragged his foot against the floor tiles.

It was his fault for losing the nails. No reason to feel sorry. “What are you working on anyway?”

His face brightened, “The one I need to finish in a few days is a chicken coop. Please, Julian.”

“A chicken coop?” your voice staggered, “That is your big project?”

Jacob finally looked you in the eye after he got his clothes looking more-or-less neat. He puffed his chest, “I thought you were a blacksmith?”

You blinked, “Yes I am.”

“And I am a carpenter, and I can tell you that a chicken coop is a very complex structure to build and-”

You raised your palm, not allowing him to finish, “Very complex, I got it. Sorry, I can’t help you today. Ask Master Carinda.”

He sighed, “Next time you’ll need a blacksmith shop build,” he moved his head to the ceiling in a circle, “I won’t go out of my way.”

“I doubt we’ll need a second smithy any time soon."

“You never know, they did ask me to build a second windmill,” he said, his voice a mix of sneer and pride. A second windmill, why?

You roughly lifted your temple with your wrist, “Listen, Jacob, come back a bit later and Master Carinda will make you the two nails you need for your chicken coop. I am sure the chickens can wait. I would tell her myself but I am leaving now and closing the shop.”

Jacob spun around to face the exit, “It's twenty-five. Very well. I guess I’ll have to work on the coop without nails.”

“That’s how they used to do it in the olden days,” you joked as the man finally left the premise of Carinda’s shop.

Locking the door to not have people disturb you again, you returned to the dwarven book of blueprints; to the article of dwarven beads, and further, to the specific ones for dwarven women. It had engravings depicting the ladies of the deep mines, each with their own unique 'beard style'. You shirked; neither of them would fit Carinda. But who were you to say, you preferred her hair and braids the way they were now. Skimming through the pages, you picked a couple you found the most appealing and grand.

You now had a problem deciding on a particular one. The book had graciously provided a way of braiding the hair to look like a beard, yet, those were drawings. You needed to know how they would look on a real woman, and you could not ask Carinda to simply let you practice on her. What you could do was to imitate the shape and design with some metal leftovers and strings. It was going to be a weird request either way…

>Ask the local tailor apprentice and your childhood friend Vera to practice on.
>Ask your dear and loving mother to let you practice on her hair.
>Ask the local barber Qiric to practice on one of the wigs from his collection.
>None of the beads will look good on human women, and they might telltale Carinda of what you are working on. Pick any.

>>5055558
>Ask the local tailor apprentice and your childhood friend Vera to practice on.
As long as she is known to be able to keep a secret.

>>5055558
>>5055753
+1 this!

>>5055558
>Ask the local tailor apprentice and your childhood friend Vera to practice on

There was one person you were intimate enough to ask for help, excluding your dear mother. That person was Veronica; you and others called her Vera. You pushed the book you were holding into your leather bag. Carinda was not going to mind you taking it, but she was going to know the gist of what was going on. It was a good thing the book contained blueprints for many other art pieces and crafts. You double-checked the fact that nothing that could burn down the smithy or the shop floor was astir. Then, you grabbed your jacket and your padded coif before leaving.

Crisscross hamlet was not a big town, and reaching the tailor shop of Vera’s family did not take long. First, you knocked, but nobody answered. Knocking again, and getting the same result, you grabbed the handle of the door to open - it was a shop, after all. Vera’s bright, freckled and sudden face appeared near yours. Her olive eyes lost their sparkle and her fake crinkled smile dropped as soon as she saw you.

“Oh, it’s you,” she pushed her palms over her face in an attempt to return her happy, welcoming expression. “Are you here to buy anything?”

You shook your head.

“Oh, it’s you,” She repeated. Her hands were still holding the frame of the door as if she was not allowing you to look inside, “What are you doing here?”

You smirked: she did have to block the view, her dishevelled and unruly hair did that already. Light auburn in colour, it was wavy, wispy and flowing in all directions. If there was one way to describe her hair, it would be like a haystack after rain. Not wet, but not completely dry either. Of course, you never said that to her face and anyone who did never tried to do it a second time.

You raked through your hair.

“I’m here to see you.”

She raised her eyebrow, but her squint forced you to continue.

“I have a favour to ask of you.”

She harrumphed, louder than necessary, “What makes you think I have time to help you?”

“…Friends are supposed to help each other?”

“Oh really? What about the sword I’ve asked you to make?”

“You know I can’t do that."

“What about the halberd, then?”

You bemoan, “You know I can’t do that either.”

Her hands clutched the jambs of the door frame, “You even said no to my request for an axe!”

“That’s because it is still a weapon!” You paused in silence, “No, wait... as long as it’s not a battle-axe it should not be a problem.” You raised your fingers to stroke your stubble, the destiny of this seed was to grow into a beard to rival all dwarfs. “But, you never asked me to make you an axe!”

Her eyes looked vacant before blinking. She finally let go of the door frame, “I didn’t?”

“No.”

With a smug smile, she slapped her palm against your shoulder, “Very well. I will help you, in exchange for that axe.”

You gave her a short nod.

“So what is it our new mastersmith was busy-old-me to help with?”

“I am not a mastersmith yet… but it’s part of it.” Your head turned left and right, looking around you, “Can we talk somewhere else?”

“Oh, sure,” she kept the door open for you to enter the tailor shop. It was a wide space with clothes on full display taking most of it, with only a small counter in the back. The clothes and garments were well made, with decorations and details and colours you wouldn’t expect to find in any regular hamlet. Gowns, dresses, trousers, shirts, scarfs, cloaks - you could find anything you wanted in here. Carinda’s arrival made this hamlet one many people wished to visit. Vera’s family shop benefited from this. They were busy even at low months.

Vera lead you towards the staircase to the second floor before following you.

“Where are you going, Veronica?!” You heard Vera's mother loud voice. “You still have a few dozen shirts to complete by tonight!”

“I’m going to take a break!” Vera responded, more of a fact than an explanation.

“Is that Julian?! Make sure not to close the door if you two are going to stay al-”

She did. Vera closed the door as loud as she could. She sighed and let you into her room. You were here a couple of times, and not much has changed. Wooden chairs, bed, wardrobes, a couple of candle holders, her personal loom - now covered in dust - and of course, a bed. The throws over the chairs, bedsheets and blankets were all made by her in this shop, in pastel orange-yellow patterns. There was a weak smell of cedar and sage: a custom made incense that had finished burning. Vera had an obsession with making them.

“I know I’m the one who asked for your help but… are you sure this is fine?” you nodded at the closed door.

“It’s fine,” she rolled her eyes before picking another bunch of dried herbs and dragging a candle to light them up. “I don’t think you have any ill or lewd intentions here, do you?”

You were not going to play her game. You removed the bluish hard-book from your bag, “No, the reason I need your help is that I started working on a masterpiece and-” Before you could finish, she grabbed the book out of her hands and began looking through it.

“You had this all this time? And you never showed me?” She pouted, “What are you making then, a sword?!” She asked, her eyes shining. She turned the book around to show you one of the illustrations of a majestic royal blue sword, “How about this one?”

“I’m not working on a sword or a weapon,” she looked disappointed when you said it, “I want to make… some beard beads for Carinda.”

“I don’t think I understand,” Carinda shoved her finger against the pages of a very expensive book, “Why would she need that? She’s a woman, isn’t she?” Is that a dwarven thing or something?” Did not take long for her to guess “Are you -really- going to make … a beard bead?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It will be your first masterpiece,” she pushed her hands forward, exasperating her words, “Don’t you think it should be more, I don't know, amazing?”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

“Fine,” she turned around and sat on the chair. The arguments between you and Vera never lasted more than a few minutes. “So what do you need me for?”

“I need your hair.”

There was a wince-worthy silence.

She cringed, indeed. “I understand… but never say that to another girl, Julian. That sounded very creepy.”

You emptied your bag of metal rings, strings and bits. You placed them near Vera’s chair and kneeled in a comfortable position. You took the book from her hands and - finding the few you bead designs you were hesitant between - you began working. It was not guaranteed. Vera’s hair was rough, spiky and coarse - unlike Carinda’s flowing and soft-looking dwarven hair. You saw Vera look at you.

“What…?”

“I’m thinking, you are touching my hair with such intimacy, and your face is almost touching mine, yet you don’t feel any embarrassment.” She was grinning now, “You really like her, don’t you?”

>Keep your silence and do not engage with Vera’s playful mind-tricks and mocking.
>“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
>“So what if I do? If it's someone’s problem I find no reason why I should care.”
>“I’m just going to make it a gift as well as a masterpiece, from apprentice to master.”
>“Master Carinda has nothing to do with this, I just don’t consider you a girl, that’s all.”
>[Write In]

>>5056364
>>“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
First instinct is to deny jt

>>5056364
>“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
>“Master Carinda has nothing to do with this, I just don’t consider you a girl, that’s all.”
Deny and deflect like any teen would

>>5056364
>“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
>“Master Carinda has nothing to do with this, I just don’t consider you a girl, that’s all.”
Supporting >>5056741

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you wised off.

She leaned forward, forcing your forehead to meet hers, “Trying to hide it? That’s not very “best-friendly of you.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” you insisted. You were having a hard time with Vera’s defiant and brambly hair.

She shrugged her shoulders, “I heard your mother tried to set you up for marriage, but you keep declining. It’s just very suspicious, Juli- Ouch!”

You jerked her hair, “Stay still, it’s hard to work when you are moving about.”

She clicked her tongue with a pout, “You don’t have to be -that- desperate to hide it, lardhead.”

“Master Carinda has nothing to do with this, I just don’t consider you a girl, that’s all.”

She jolted her hair out of your hands only to have you pull her back.

“Ouch again! I can and do girly things when I’m not around you, that’s all,” she muttered, “You know, I’m jealous of you...”

“You are?”

“If only it was someone who was a master at tailoring, or better yet, a herbalist, that came to Crisscross under King's assignment instead of a dwarf-smith. Then it would’ve been in me your place!”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t think dwarfs are famous for their tailors and herbalists.”

“It did not have to be a dwarf,” she squinted, her eyes relaxing, “It could’ve been an elf! Or a beastwoman, a lizardman, or even a gnome. Then -I- would be on my way to becoming a master craftsman.”

“Do you have a comb?”

“Don’t think I don’t remember,” she began drumming her palms on your head, “You didn’t even want to be a blacksmith in the beginning; your parents pushed you into this. Thinking about it, you are very privileged, aren’t you? And that is excluding the fact that you have a cute girl like me helping you right now.”

“You bribed me with an axe,” you remind her. You could not deny it. When Carinda first arrived into the hamlet and asked for an apprentice of a young age to study under her, you were disinterested

After a few more minutes, you completed the design of the bead. Although expensive, it was not a surprise that Vera’s family had a tall mirror in her room. As soon as you said it was ready, she stood up, pushed you away with her knee, and approached it.

“This… is actually not bad,” she chuckled, “I look like an actual dwarf now. In some way, I can see why their females would do this. Huh, I never could imagine my hair could turn into such a majestic beard, Julian.” She began stroking it. She turned around to face you, “What do you think?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You slid your hands over your head to hide the redness of your ears. She looked a lot like Carinda on the day you met her, her “beard” looking similar. “Yes. You look good.”

She grinned. She put her hands behind her back and rolled her shoulders, as if presenting herself, “I -do- look good. Give me an axe and some soot-covered rags and I’ll look exactly like a female dwarf. Then I could leave this town and explore the lands, not like a teen but like a would-be-dwarf-adventurer, with all the benefits of it.”

You looked at your friend with confusion.

“Just thinking out loud,” the edges of her lips lifted, “Do you think you can make me one of those beard beads as well, Julian?”

“And why would I do that?”

“That’s what friends are for, is it not?”

>“I will already be making you an axe I promised, Vera.”
>“I will be too busy with master Carinda’s bead to make one of you as well.”
>“I can make you either an axe or a bead, but not a bead of the same quality.”
>“Once I can make one, making two should not be that much of a hassle. Fine, but you’ll help me if I need it.”

>>5057175
>"I will already be making you an axe I promised, Vera."

If she wants a bead... I mean, I GUESS. But not both, at least not right now.

>>5057175
>“I will already be making you an axe I promised, Vera.”

Not sure about this one, without that much context I also feel like puttin the bead on hold for now, at least until we see how she uses the axe

"I will already be making you an axe I promised, Vera."

She stared off into the window: a meadow of rolling hills laid ayond the farmlands.

“Which do I want more?”

“Good question, but I don’t remember asking it-”

“Damn it, I want both.”

You took a few steps to approach her, “Let’s deal with your axe first. I -really- want to focus working on my masterpiece right now, so how soon do you want it?”

Her eyelashes fluttered, “Of course I want it as soon as possible, Julian, but… I’ll wait until you’re free.”

“You will?”

“Yes.” She grinned, “I can wait until you’re are a mastersmith. Then, your first piece will be my axe.”

You rolled your eyes, “Alright.”

You approached Veronica by the window to take a gaze at the same landscape she has been staring at. While the hamlet did gain notoriety in the last ten years, and its popularity and size would continue to grow even when Carinda leaves on her own, it was still a small town. The nearest proper city was a few full days of travel and away. Between and around the two laid a lush landscape of deep forests, rich meadows, rolling hills and broken lakes. If Crisscross was a person, he would be a pretty lonely one.

You lowered your head towards Vera’s “beard”. She immediately put up her hands above her chest.

You raised your eyes to stare at her chin and impalpable eyes, “…It’s a bit annoying to remove it.”

You began to pull and twist the bead as painlessly as you could, trying to unweave and unbraid the hair stuck in the strings of metal.

She sighed, “I wish I could keep it, but my mom would have a heart attack if she saw me like this.”

After a couple of minutes and pulled hair-strains - in response to losing which Vera pulled your hair - you managed to free her hair and then pull it to the way it was before, if not a lot more straightened in the bottom. Putting on your woolen jacket, and then picking your equipment and leather bag, you thanked Vera for her help and began to leave.

“You should visit me when I am not busy, and when you don’t need something from me,” Vera smirked.

You sat on a wooden bench beneath a twisted weeping willow tree not far from the shop you left. The bent and slender branches fell to the ground and hid anyone sitting beneath this one tree like a canopy with its feather-veined leaves. With the design of the bead settled, you now had to pick the material you'd use for the bead. While you could make it from your typical, regular metal - the type you and Carinda almost always end up using in the smithy - the dwarven book proposed way more valuable and harder-to-make materials. You could not read the book yourself, you only knew the words translated so it was still hard to work with. To add to the complication, the book mentioned that the dwarfs had a special “Language of the Gift” to their crafted gifts; extra meaning.

Whichever material you had to decide on, you would have to go to the small mining town of Quarry.

>Iron Gold is an alloy made out of Underdark Iron, Freckled Gold and Carbon. Carbon is the easiest thing to procure and should not be a problem. One can find Underdark Iron only in the deepest levels of the dwarven mines. Like regular gold is separated from crushed rock and sand, Freckled Gold needs to be separated from regular gold dust. You surprised Carinda when you told her you did not know that was even a thing. Unlike regular gold, it is far more valuable and adds a lustrous shine and gleam to the final metal. In the “Language of the Gift”, Iron Gold means “The giftee is the most valuable and valued person to the gifter.”
>Onestone is a metal made out of cooled Ecline Amalgam. Ecline Ore is so capricious that not only it does not bond with any other ore, it will remain in a melted mercury-like state when smelted with other Ecline flakes and minerals unless solidified by one of the unique techniques to cool and bond it. The only technique that will be available to you here is, what the book depicts to be, a stomach of a swamp-dwelling beast. To melt Ecline is another problem and requires charcoal made out of Black Horn tree, also found in the swamplands. Ecline Ore is not the hardest to find, as it sits in isolated nodes and deposits where no other ore is present. In the “Language of the Gift”, Onestone means “The giftee owns a piece of the gifter, deservingly and willingly given.”

>>5057951
>>Onestone is a metal made out of cooled Ecline Amalgam. Ecline Ore is so capricious that not only it does not bond with any other ore, it will remain in a melted mercury-like state when smelted with other Ecline flakes and minerals unless solidified by one of the unique techniques to cool and bond it. The only technique that will be available to you here is, what the book depicts to be, a stomach of a swamp-dwelling beast. To melt Ecline is another problem and requires charcoal made out of Black Horn tree, also found in the swamplands. Ecline Ore is not the hardest to find, as it sits in isolated nodes and deposits where no other ore is present. In the “Language of the Gift”, Onestone means “The giftee owns a piece of the gifter, deservingly and willingly given.”

>>5057951
>>Iron Gold

>>5057951
>Iron Gold

>>5057951
>Onestone is a metal made out of cooled Ecline Amalgam. Ecline Ore is so capricious that not only it does not bond with any other ore, it will remain in a melted mercury-like state when smelted with other Ecline flakes and minerals unless solidified by one of the unique techniques to cool and bond it. The only technique that will be available to you here is, what the book depicts to be, a stomach of a swamp-dwelling beast. To melt Ecline is another problem and requires charcoal made out of Black Horn tree, also found in the swamplands. Ecline Ore is not the hardest to find, as it sits in isolated nodes and deposits where no other ore is present. In the “Language of the Gift”, Onestone means “The giftee owns a piece of the gifter, deservingly and willingly given.”

>>5057951
>Onestone

>Update later today.

After much deliberation, you settled on Onestone. “The giftee owns a piece of the gifter, deservingly and willingly given”. Carinda was far from old, but every dwarf had to be aware of the special meaning behind the “Language of the Gift”; this would get your feelings through. Surely.

You sighed with relief; it felt as if making the choice was the hardest part of the whole ordeal, and it was now dealt with. Closing the book, you lifted the willow branches in front of your face to momentarily look at the busy people passing by millers and woodsmen and carpenters and, many of them, farmers and crop-tenders. You did not leave the smithy much during the last seven years; most of your time had been spent working the forge, assisting Carinda with smaller tasks around the shop, and studying, and meticulously putting what you studied to test. Being a regular blacksmith - even not in a King’s court - is hard enough, but being an apprentice under a dwarf was a very different heat. It was going to be even harder once Carinda were to leave. It had been so hard, you almost forgot you were not the only one hard-at-work here.

You stood up from the bench and pushed your palms against your back to curve it. Much better. You had no hope of finding Ecline Ore in Crisscross, especially not in the hobby mines of some of the folks who began experimenting with after Carinda’s tutorship. You had to venture into Quarry, a town built around a hollowed mountain. It laid a few days away, not that much of dedication, but…

>You should probably visit your family home to warn them that you’ll be busy and might be outside the home for a few days or longer. You spend less and less time each year sleeping in your cottage and, instead, you used the room above the smithy. Do you need to bother? Your father should still be working the farmlands and your mother is too invasive and annoying to deal with alone.

>Go straight to Beri’s stable to ask if you can borrow a horse. You do not know how to ride one, so you will need a person to mount and lead the horse, and stay with you for a couple of days. Beri is the stable master, but the ones responsible for training - and breaking - the horses are his sons, the oldest of who is Callum. A prick and the likeliest Beri will allow to accompany you; if he accepts.
>Carinda have arrived to Crisscross upon a dwarven wagon and two pony mares leading it. Both of them stay in Beri’s stable, but Carinda makes sure to check and care for them every day herself. She used the wagon to travel to nearby hamlets and towns if necessary and had been in Quarry a few times, together with you. You could ask Carinda to ride you there, but you would have to keep the true nature of your trip, and your masterpiece, a secret. She is probably expecting you to use regular iron for your task.

>>5059016
>>Carinda have arrived to Crisscross upon a dwarven wagon and two pony mares leading it. Both of them stay in Beri’s stable, but Carinda makes sure to check and care for them every day herself. She used the wagon to travel to nearby hamlets and towns if necessary and had been in Quarry a few times, together with you. You could ask Carinda to ride you there, but you would have to keep the true nature of your trip, and your masterpiece, a secret. She is probably expecting you to use regular iron for your task.

>>5059016
>Visit your family

Mom's fussing aside, we ought to pay them to occasional visit.

>>5059016
>Carinda have arrived to Crisscross upon a dwarven wagon and two pony mares leading it. Both of them stay in Beri’s stable, but Carinda makes sure to check and care for them every day herself. She used the wagon to travel to nearby hamlets and towns if necessary and had been in Quarry a few times, together with you. You could ask Carinda to ride you there, but you would have to keep the true nature of your trip, and your masterpiece, a secret. She is probably expecting you to use regular iron for your task.

>>5059016
>>You should probably visit your family home to warn them that you’ll be busy and might be outside the home for a few days or longer. You spend less and less time each year sleeping in your cottage and, instead, you used the room above the smithy. Do you need to bother? Your father should still be working the farmlands and your mother is too invasive and annoying to deal with alone.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5059239
>>5059318

>>5059305
>>5059339

>I will roll between those two, then!

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Instead of complicating things, it was easier to ask Carinda for help directly. You considered visiting your family home to warn your parents of your engagements, but in the end, you decided against it. You were always busy. You could visit them anytime. Carinda told you there was no limit in time, and she meant it; yet, you did not want to make her wait too long. You may not have liked it, but after spending seven years away from her home, it was likely Carinda wished to return. At least, you guessed so much, as she never told you a lot about the dwarven city of Vag Ladur from where she hails, or her family, or anything else.

You faded a loving sigh. She was mysterious. This only added extra charms to your dwarven master. After a short walk, you returned to the smithy to find Carinda still away. There was a bucket list of other things she could’ve been doing now. Only on the rare occasion, she let you assist with the ale brewing or with the grooming of her horses. She was strict, and very insistent, that you focused on the forge. She told you that you were not a maid or a servant, but an apprentice. Your goal was to sorely become a master in seven years.

You had time to “waste”, so you began working on completing all the small orders left; finishing the horseshoe pile being one of them. You were unsure how long the person was knocking for. The weak and muffed knock grew loud enough for you to hear it once the hot iron began to cool down. You removed your apron and quickly cleaned your face with sand soap. They were insistent. As you began walking towards the door, you pondered… was it another customer or did Carinda forget her keys?

The knocking sound was in rhythm, with a second-long pause in-between the constant cadence. No, no one you knew ever knocked like that.

“Coming!” You shouted, unlocking the door and pushing it open. A very tall shadow concealed your view of the sunny day outside.

Clad in regal shining metal armour, before you were a person far above your height. One of his formidably large and heavy gauntlets formed a clenched fist above you, while the other was holding a leather-bound hilt of a mighty and broad sword. The man was pointing his two-handed sword downwards; the sword was hanging and balancing on its tip. The person had a great helm concealing their face in shadow, with only their blue eyes visible. Attached to the forehead area were two stripes of opaque black and silver ornamental stones.

He stared your down, sending a chill down your spine. One would had to travel outside the districts for miles to see a man-at-arms, either in the lord courts or in the battlefields. You could hear a ruckus from the hamlet folk outside, of course, it was unnatural and unprecedented for one to come here. A weak echo of his scoff escaped from the narrow opening of his helm as he peered at the people outside. He looked back as you stood there in silence.

File: A Knight Clad In Armour....png (955 KB, 591x1375)

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"Are you going to invite me inside?” he asked, his voice booming.

You nodded your head, “Come in.” You agreed, allowing the person to enter; he had to bent to do so. You tossed a glance to the crowd of onlookers before shrugging to them to show you also had no idea what was going on and then closing the door on them.

The person was important, you did not wish to show any disrespect. With a knightly step, he approached one of the display vitrines and, after a short deliberation, he picked one of the short-swords and raised it with his free hands. He let the sunlight glisten the blade. He turned it around before looking back at you, “Have you made this?”

You waved your palm and shook your head, “No, Master Carinda did."

He breathed out before putting the sword back in its place. There was another long silence.

“Are you going to introduce yourself?” his iron voice asked as he continue to stare into your eyes.

“Right…” you prolonged, “I am Julian, I am an apprentice of this shop. If you are looking for the mastersmith, she should arrive shortly. I can bring you a chair if you want, and we have some fresh ale.”

“No need.” He paused, “I guess I should let you know who I am. My name is Tetreus Brasswing. I am the acting King’s Representative, one of many.” You began choking on your breathe. Tetreus waited with patience for you to stop coughing. You stared him down, eyes wide. “I am here to judge your masterpiece.”

“Judge... judge my masterpiece?”

He nodded. "The King’s arrangement dictates that the dwarf Carinda was to transfer her experience, skill, talent and magic to you during those seven years of apprenticeship. I am here to see if that was the case. I am not a blacksmith, but I will be a suitable adjudicator. Do you have it made and finished?”

“I only began working on it.”

“…I guess that’s more desirable. I will be able to judge you through your undivided process. Are you going to tell me what it is?”

> “It’s a… secret?” Try to smile as you say it. Say you wanted to surprise your master and, since Tetreus is also here to judge you, you want to surprise him as well. You hope he won’t use force to tell you what it is.
> “I have decided to combine my masterpiece with a gift to my master as a thank-you for training me. I’ve decided on making a female beard bead… um, but of the finest quality and materials. It’s not something humans blacksmiths usually make I know."
> “I have an idea of what I want to make, but if my masterpiece needs to be something specific, then… do I even get a choice here?”
> [Write In]

>The art is not 100% representation.

>>5059795
>I have an idea of what I want to make... But do I even get a choice here?

>>5059795
>“I have an idea of what I want to make, but if my masterpiece needs to be something specific, then… do I even get a choice here?”

>>5059795
>“I have an idea of what I want to make, but if my masterpiece needs to be something specific, then… do I even get a choice here?”

“I have an idea of what I want to make, but if my masterpiece needs to be something specific, then… do I even get a choice here?”

Tetreus’ eyes carried on surveying the shop. Once done, he nodded to acknowledge your question and began walking to other displays. “No, the King has no such requirements. As long as what you forged satisfied your dwarf teacher. It only needs to be a blacksmith piece and a masterpiece.” He paused before another display of marvel - a tall granite stone polished into a specular block. There were dozen of kitchen knives - cleavers, eating knives, meat knives, prickers, filleting knives, bread knives, cheese knives, and more. They were so well made and sharp each one of them was piercing or cutting into the granite. He pulled one of the knives out of the stone, put it onto his gauntlet to, to his but not your surprise, slightly carve through his metal armour like butter. He put it back. He mused.

“Are you going to show me the things you made?”

You pushed your palm against the back of your neck, scrubbing it like sandpaper, “We don’t have apprentice pieces here, Tetreus-”

“Refer to me as King’s Representative Tetreus,” he corrected you with a cold gaze, his armour and voice both raucous.

“King’s Representative Tetreus,” you hid your frustration. “The things I make are usually taken from me as soon as they are finished."

“…Even in the guilds of the capital I would be sure to find pieces made by the novitiates; of cheaper and lower quality and in less visible spots, in fairness. If none of your craftsmanship is present here, does that mean the dwarf Carinda was not happy or satisfied with a single thing you have made? ...Or am I mistaking?”

You winced. You tossed a quick glance around the shop; it would be clear and obvious if any of your crafts were here, next to her greatest. After learning the basics, you began making things people needed most often such as nails, window hinges, horseshoes, knives, scythes, sickles, and so on. When Carinda did assist with those things, the people would immediately spot the difference, and be happy they got something made by her for the same price you asked. When someone in or outside the hamlet requested harder, bigger and more intricate pieces, she trained you to make it, step by step. The one you made you gave to the requester, and hers she put onto the display to sell. Everything up-top was a masterpiece, and even in this small town, Carinda requested worthy, lavish and premium prices. The things she made lasted a lifetime and were only bought as once-in-a-year gifts or family purchases. Yet, Carinda did allow the people to borrow those treasures, to either test them out or use them on one or two occasions. She would then polish and return them to the displays. This was an exception to the hamlet-folk. Crisscross was an honest town, more or less, so no one in the town tried to steal from her, or tried risking it.

You smirked to yourself, “I can’t tell you what master Carinda is thinking, King’s Representative Tetreus.”

You heard a slow breathe before his metal gauntlet grasped the counter to let him lean, “Are you going to tell me what it is?” He repeated with the exact tone; he was no less angry and no more displeased with you.

“No,” you said, raising your shoulders and putting both your hands over your stomach, “If I can make whatever I want, then I want to keep it unknown. But it’s going to rival the dwarven crafts; that is what I plan.”

There was a heavy, long silence as you awaited his response. But, the man-at-arms waited for you to continue. With a deep breath, you did so. “What happens if you deem it worthy?”

“I will tell you… once that is the case.” Tetreus’s voice softened, as if in mockery.

“And if I fail?”

“I will tell you…” Damn it. “Now. Your master will be demanded to stay another year to inculcate you further.”

You swallowed; trying not to show your sudden exasperation. If you fail, Carinda will stay here with you, for another year? And then, maybe, another? Not every apprentice gets it right on their first try. It happens to everyone. All you had to do was make something lame, something unimpressive. Then Carinda would not have to leave the town, and your masterpiece, your feelings and your relationship did not have to break or change or anything else...

You glanced. Through the narrow hole in his helm Tetreus was watching you like a snake, an owl and a wolf; all at the same time.

“I still have things left to do. Master should return shortly, you can ask anything else of her yourself.” You bowed, “King’s Representative Tetreus.” You turned around from Tetreus and, with a quickstep, you rushed up the stairs to your room. You closed the heavy scarlet door and, with a tiring sigh, you leaned against it…

You smacked the back of your head against the rugged boards. The thoughts you were having a second ago, how could you even consider it… it was not right, you could not betray your master’s expectations and trust like that! Could you...?

You looked out of the window. Having Tetreus following your every move would be annoying and tedious, but what was there to do now? There is no turning back, but what is the man going to say when you present him with a “beard” bead?

> It is hard, but not impossible, to step discreetly out of the room’s window and, using the houses and brickwork laid within to assist you, to climb down without Tetreus knowing. You could then find Master Carinda and, explaining the situation (or not?), ask her to caravan with you to the Quarry. Following every step of the process is not part of the evaluation: Tetreus was expecting your masterpiece to be presented.
> Maybe you should not bother the master, maybe it’s a good thing that Tetreus is here. Now you won’t have to bother her or have to explain more than you want to. He obviously arrived here on a mount. You are not sure how much Tetreus is willing to assist you with your task, but if you ask, he can ride you to the Quarry and the Russet Swamps as long as it's for the sake of the masterpiece. The lands around Crisscross are not supposed to be dangerous, but I would help a great lot to have a strong knight with you.
> There is no need for any drastic and on-a-whim decisions. Wait until Master Carinda comes back and then ask her - as you were planning originally - to caravan you to the Quarry with Tetreus accompanying you.

> Sorry for no update yesterday.

>>5061184
>There is no need for any drastic and on-a-whim decisions. Wait until Master Carinda comes back and then ask her - as you were planning originally - to caravan you to the Quarry with Tetreus accompanying you.

Let's not antagonize him by going behind his back or having him lend his mount to a complete stranger

>>5061184
>There is no need for any drastic and on-a-whim decisions. Wait until Master Carinda comes back and then ask her - as you were planning originally - to caravan you to the Quarry with Tetreus accompanying you.

>>5061185
No worries. It's the weekend!

>>5061184
>There is no need for any drastic and on-a-whim decisions. Wait until Master Carinda comes back and then ask her - as you were planning originally - to caravan you to the Quarry with Tetreus accompanying you.
No need to panic... yet

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After much deliberation, you subdued any on-a-whim decisions you could make. After changing into cleaner clothing you come down the stairs to find Tetreus absent in the shop room. You find him in the smithy, investigating the forges and the forge tools. The metal dust and ash settled on his armour-like glue. It soiled the knightly and grand glamour, although it was nothing some wet rag couldn’t fix. With a pair of tongs, the man rummaged dredged through the cold coals for… a reason you did not know.

You approached him. “Is… something wrong, King’s Representative Tetreus?”

He paused, straightening his bent body - the top of his helm scratching the inner ceiling of the forge; only slightly. “It does not appear your forges are all that different from all across the kingdom, and the charcoal is nothing unusual either. The dwarf mastersmith is not using any dwarven tricks here."

You nodded, “Everything Master Carinda crafts is just using her talent and experience and self-mastery.”

The man stared you down, “Hm... While I am patient, the world around me is not. When is she coming back?”

You fell silent, your fingers caressing your stubble. Yes, Carinda would usually tell you if she was not going to return to the smithy until sunrise, or even for a time longer than a couple of hours. It was now way longer.

While it was foolish to be worrying - especially in Crisscross, especially to Master Carinda - you still were. “I think I know where she might be right now. I am going to go look for her. King’s Representative Tetreus, you can just wait here-”

“No,” the clang of his armour echoed with every heavy step he took to follow behind, “We shall go there together.”

You sighed and pushed the door open with your shoulder. It was late autumn. The cold air chilled your naked skin. You narrowed your eyes: the untamed sunlight of the open skies was lukewarm, but still very welcomed. There were yet a small gathering of people standing outside the smithy. All of them were prior engaged in loud and bashful gossiping, and when you opened the door, they carried on, although a bit quieter. Tetreus’ arrival has raised a disturbance league above Carinda’s. It was unordinary - sure - but was it phenomenal?

“That’s enough.” Tetreus raised his voice, the restrains of his helmet making it sound like ghastly whispers. Despite this, he did not show any emotions. He raised his free hand and clutched it into a sonorous fist. “Scatter. Now. Return to what you were doing. Dare to come back, and I have other means of dealing with nuisances.”

He hushed, putting his hand over the hilt of his sword. “If this town does not need any single person to prepare for the wintertime, then I might assign and send off a couple of the northern frontiers.”

You watched as the people followed his every instruction, scattering back into their homes and workshops. The last part of his threat he said so faintly it is unlikely any of them heard; who was it even for?

The wooden floor creaked but the wrought iron stairs did not. “Are you going to lead the way?”

It’s best not to question the man. You nodded. You walked the streets and open swards of Crisscross in silence. Tetreus no longer had any questions to ask you, and you weren’t -that- interested in the world outside the hamlet; maybe curious about the dwarven burrows and fortresses only, but it was unlikely Tetreus knew anything regarding that. Even if he did, now would be an awkward time to ask. You lead him through the town centre, then over the Pebble River, and finally to the expansive farmlands, soon to be completely covered with frost and snow. The small outside cottage where Carinda made and then matured her ales and mead laid just on the edge of the last growth pastures.

You were not sure at first, but once you left the premise of the hamlet entirely, you spotted a person - one abysmal at concealing themselves - stalking you and Tetreus. It was Vera, and you thought she was supposed to be busy! You sighed to yourself; did she not see how obvious and visible she was? You looked at Tetreus who was still studying the hills ahead. Only one rare occasion did he turn his head to keep it moving.

> Continue towards Carinda’s ale cottage. Allow Vera to trail you.
> Make a visible sign gesture towards Vera that you have seen her and spotted her, and she should stop following you.
> Point Tetreus towards the alehouse. Tell him you have another place nearby to check. Approach Vera and ask her why she is following you two.

>>5062106
>Point Tetreus to the alehouse, go question Vera

>>5062106
>Point Tetreus towards the alehouse. Tell him you have another place nearby to check. Approach Vera and ask her why she is following you two.

>>5062106
> Point Tetreus towards the alehouse. Tell him you have another place nearby to check. Approach Vera and ask her why she is following you two.
I'm guessing she wants to ask him about becoming a squire or leaving to the frontiers

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The sun, an hour ago sharp and blazing, was quickly setting away, allowing the upcoming coldness of the night to regain its rule. Maybe you should make Vera’s bead if she can give you a multi-layered woollen coat in return? You shuddered as you stopped in the middle of the sand-coloured barley field.

“There are a few places she might be at. We should split, it’s not far. You can check the alehouse, I’ll check the other place.” You white lied, looking at Tetreus. It’s true she could be anywhere, but not here - the only place of interest was the alehouse. Tetreus’ armour was even dirtier now, with mud, ragweed, pollen and many other things clinging to the metal. You raised your hand to point towards the cottage.

The man-at-arms took a long moment to reply. You heard him clear his throat, the noise booming like a melodic note from beneath his helmet. “Very well. Return once you confirm whether she is there or not.”

You nodded. Tetreus overcame and forged ahead of you. After a while, the man’s figure vanished beneath the tumbling hills. You sighed as you veered to ambuscade your childhood friend. She saw you approaching but did not even bother to hide. She assumed there was no point. With your feet deep in the mud, you stopped.

“Julian!” Vera half-yelled, clenching both of her hands - she did so when excited.

“You are a horrible snooper.”

“Snooper? What…? I was trying to catch your attention, lardhead!”

“You were not trying to hide or to follow us?” You were not convinced.

“I wasn’t hiding,” she said, raising her fists, “But of course I was following you.” She coughed, “Obviously.”

“Right.”

She grabbed your shoulders with force. “Forget about that! Why is a royal man-at-arms here?!”

You glanced behind you - he wasn’t there. “Why is everyone acting like it is such a big deal?”

“Of course it’s a big deal, Julian. Why would someone like him ever come to Crisscross? Tell me!”

You sighed. “He’s here to evaluate my masterpiece. We are looking for Master Carinda right now.”

“Julian…” Her voice croaked. Her hands slid from your shoulders and grabbed your collar instead. “Just today I told you how jealous I was of you, and here you go and make me jealous even more! You now have a -knight- visiting and judging your work.” Her face reddened and her eyes fell, “Darn you and your darn luck!”

You rolled your eyes. You put your hands over Vera’s to be safe that she would not start choking you, “I don’t think he’s just a ‘knight’. He said his name was Tetreus and that he’s ‘King’s Representative’.”

“King’s... Representative?” Her grip felt as she put her hands over her eyes and began to rub them, sniffing incoherently.

You did not like making people cry.

“Hey, you don’t have to cry-”

“I am not crying…” she corked angrily, revealing her red eyes. “Did you already forget that I have this stupid allergy?”

This girl. You bit your lip in annoyance. “Well, you sure tried your darn hardest to make it looking like you -were- crying, Vera.”

She pushed your chest with her hands.

You stumbled but remained standing. Forge muscles!

You lowered your palms before her, “Alright. Alright. Calm down. I am sorry for saying you were crying. And… I am sorry for being lucky?” You followed with your head, “The guy there likes to be answered to, but he’s not much of a talker… Do you want me to introduce you or something?” You narrowed your eyes, “What are you trying to do here, Vera?”

She beamed. One of her fists hit her open palm. “Yes, introduce me. I want to ask him why doesn’t he have a page boy.”

You were, and looked, confused.

She rolled her eyes. “Page boy? Squire? Aide? Attendant?”

“Like an… apprentice? Do people like him suppose to have one?”

“Yes, lardhead, of course, the should. His horse needs caring, and his armour needs cleaning, and-”
“Your excitement does not mix with your words. That sounds boring.”

“They are frivolous tasks, but you become a knight as well once you finish your squire-ship! And if he does not have one here with him, then there’s a chance he’s looking for one. And that one could be-”
“Aren’t you going to inherit your mother’s tailor shop? Didn’t you want to become a herbalist?”
“This might be my only chance to go on an adventure, Julian.”

> “Have you discussed this with your family? You should, with your mother’s weak heart and all. I don’t think she’ll be happy.”
> “Fine, but don’t cry -for real- if he rejects you. I don’t think he’s here to look for a squire, personally.”
> Nod and wave your hand. Without encouraging or discouraging her further, stroll towards the alehouse.
> [Write In]

>>5062927
>"Fine, but don't cry if he rejects you. He honestly seems like kind of a loner."

>>5062927
>“Fine, but don’t cry -for real- if he rejects you. I don’t think he’s here to look for a squire, personally.”

>>5062927
>Fine, but don’t cry -for real- if he rejects you. I don’t think he’s here to look for a squire, personally.”

>Sorry, did not have time to complete the update today.

>>5063692
No worries, WaifuQM. Just keep us posted!

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“Fine, but don’t cry -for real- if he rejects you. I don’t think he’s here to look for a squire, personally.”

Veronica pouted. She shook her head to force and frazzle her mess of sharp auburn hair in your face. Caught off-guard, you made your best effort to push her away by doing the most annoying thing you knew, the thing she hated: grabbing and pulling her hair. She winced in pain, grasping onto your cheeks, ears and hair with her fingers. You were somehow grateful that she kept them short and unsharpened.

The two of you stood like entangled snakes. Your forehead was rubbing against hers as you continued to pull her hair and her further away.

“You are such a mule sometimes, Julian!” she said through tears… after which, she began to chuckle.
You sighed, letting go of your hold and swaying your hands downwards, admitting your “defeat”.
“Damn it, Vera, I don’t have time for this.”

You turned and trudged away.

Vera was attempting to adjust her hair, “I know that you are, master-dwarf-smith,” she mocked.
You rolled your eyes. Sometimes she could be too much.

Eventually, the two of you reached the oaken alehouse. A small-scale building with a raised wooden foundation. Carpenter Jacob and master Carinda built it a few months after her arrival. They used waxen spruce wood to build it. Now, shrouds of invasive weeds such as moss and vines had completely encroached over it. You remembered helping her scrap it all off to discard the invasive plants, but they came back quickly afterwards. Not one to admit defeat, Carinda ultimated that as long as it did not harm the ale or the ale barrels, she would stop bothering. ‘It hides the cabin quite well.'

One of the wooden walls was shattered, planks of wooden wrecks laying in the cold shadows. The closer you came to the alehouse, the bigger your anxiety grew. Something was not right. You hastened your pace. You rushed, leaving Vera behind.

Your breath froze. It wasn’t like that the last time you were here.

You leaned onto the destroyed wall as you entered through the massive hole. A single candle was still flickering - reflecting in the puddles of spilt and leaking ale - allowing you to see. A strong smell of the fermented buttery brew vapoured from the foam. One of the dozens of broad shelf-racks - on the very top - have cracked and split. Toppled casks pushed into each other, with at least half a dozen of them wrecked on the fall.

“Master Carinda?” You cleared your throat. “Carinda… are you here?!”

You raised your voice. You heard only an echo of your voice. You left the cottage sweating with chilliness. Your eyes were blurry. You looked around to find Tetreus walking beneath the hill the alehouse was standing at. The man acknowledged your presence with an inclination.

“What happened here?”

“I am interested as well,” his voice was dry. He lowered himself with a slow kneel to inspect the grass. “No body, no body parts, no blood.” He stood up with the same labour and lack of haste, “The parts of the meadow had been freshly trampled on.” He paused, “Not by me. Something heavy."

“Are you saying some of the barrels rolled down there?” There was a very steep slope downwards.

“Plausibly,” he and his armour resounded. “It is possible it happened on its own, a crude construction.”

No, the candle was burning. It was the likeliest place for Carinda to visit… But what if it was someone else? In that case, Carinda would be in another place right now. Cutting gems, working the white metals, tending her ponies?

If it was Carinda, she followed the barrels… likely. If it were thieves, they escaped… also very-very likely.

“She is not here.” Tetreus dragged one of his boots against the mud. He looked down at you, and then at Vera who managed to catch up - now completely clueless and confused. “Are you going to show me where else to look? If you are unable to find her, you should just start on your masterpiece without her, Juryan.”

> “We should at least investigate below this hill. She might still be there.”
> “Let’s go back, she must be still in the city. It best we warn the sentry guards of the hamlet of this.”
> “It will take too long for you to go down those hills. I’ll go check myself and shout if I will find anybody.”
> [Write In]

>>5064649
>“It will take too long for you to go down those hills. I’ll go check myself and shout if I will find anybody.”

>>5064649
>“It will take too long for you to go down those hills. I’ll go check myself and shout if I will find anybody.”

“It will take too long for you to go down those hills. I’ll go check myself and shout if I will find anybody.”

Tetreus stepped away with a grunt. He looked over and then below his legguards, stomping an earthen pile further into the ground. “It’s not my problem in the slightest.” He raised his sword, “Go but do not waste much time. My time.” The royal man-at-arms twisted and spun the sword to put the hilt against his torso.

“And you are?” he looked towards Veronica as you began to descend.

Your childhood friend cleared her throat. She straighten her back, raised her shoulders and chin, and put her hands in the pockets of her dress. Her trembling excitement betrayed her pretended nonchalantness. As you continued your downward climb, you discerned Vera acquainting herself and her request, but nothing more.

You attempted to follow the bent-grass and the prospective sights of the ale barrels left in the ground, but you found it impossible and useless. With no other tracks to follow, you decide to reach the flat bellows of the hill and look for her there. It did not take that long. While not as lustrous and lucent as gemstones and mirrors, the shine of the sun still reflects off the metallike dwarven skin and hair.

A copper-yellow light shone from under one of the tree shadows and evergreens of the lowland. There were visible amber cinders of her ashen hair as well. Carinda.

You hurried to find your dwarven master with her back leaned against the trunk of the tree. Three kegs were surrounding her: two of them standing and one toppled over, the tap closed but recently used.

You called out to her.

“Julian?” Her voice was always loud and clear-cut, regardless of the situation, “Is that you there?”

“Yes!” You felt a stone ball of stress fall off your chest, only to soon toss it chain back onto your neck. “Yes…” She was shifting against the trunk of the tree, barely moving. She hid it well, but you knew she was faking it. She was in pain, her left hand and right foot limp, not moving in rhyme with the rest of her body.

“What happened?”

She stubbornly stood up despite the pain. She liked to be standing. “Well, there was a bear…”

“A bear?!”

“… I am lying, there was no bear,” she sighed. “It’s embarrassing.” Her purple eyes fell on the vanishing sundown. With it, her dazzle also faded away. “It’s always a pain when you end up in a situation like this. I was hoping to come back before it got dark, and now you are also here because of me. Julian, I told you not to do stupid things.”

“The hills and meadows around Crisscross are safe, master. I am not going to get snatched by wild boars or wolves, and it is extremely unlikely that they will risk attacking you. However, you are not answering the question.” You felt her dwarven weight, a lot of it - not fat but muscles - fall as you assisted her. You let go.

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She grasped the lid of the barrel with her hand, “You are not going think too greatly of me when I tell you, Julian.” She paused, her face grimacing. “I am sure you can figure it out yourself… I went to bring a few barrels of ale back to the hamlet, but the rack collapsed on me. I ended up unhurt, at first, but it broke the wall and send a few of them” - she slapped the barrel - “down the hill. It’s good ale, so I went after it.

“They were fast, and the hillside is not that straight. I tried stopping one of them but ended up stumbling about and… long story short - I think I broke my hand. My feet hurt but not as much, it is likely twisted.”

You watched Carinda struggle. This was the first time - ever - you saw her this vulnerable; never before.

“If I did something like that, I’d be dead instead. Yet, aren't your bones suppose to be hardier than humans’?”

She picked two pebbles and smacked one against another, cracking it into two. She held them in her hands before tossing them away. “You can break anything you want if you have the strength and the right technique and tools, Julian.” She joked, “Even if my bones were diamonds, dwarven ale can break that too.”

She had a point. You remember her lessons. Your eyes journeyed through the landscape around you. It was to be pitch dark soon.

> Pick more than one if you wish.

> “That was very hasty and dumb of you, master Carinda.”
> “The ale is not worth you getting hurt and injured, Carinda!”
> It is going to be tough, but it is better than staying here. Take Carinda’s body under your shoulder and try to lead her back to the hamlet. She is going to pull her weight, so if the two of you work together, it should be possible to bring her back to the hamlet.
> It is unlikely Tetreus will be able to climb down the hill or climb back in his armour, especially in the darkness. It’s a good thing Vera is here. Briefly leave Carinda by herself and return to the alehouse to request Veronica’s help. You are not sure how much of a help she is going to be, but two is better than one.
> Leave Carinda by herself and return to the alehouse to ask Tetreus for help. Ask Tetreus and Veronica to return back with a physician - or somebody who can offer some kind of medical help as there is no specific doctor in Crisscross. It is unlikely they’ll be back until tomorrow morning. Spend the night with Carinda.
> [Write In]

>>5065471
>“The ale is not worth you getting hurt and injured, Carinda!”
Leave Carinda by herself and return to the alehouse to ask Tetreus for help. Ask Tetreus and Veronica to return back with a physician - or somebody who can offer some kind of medical help as there is no specific doctor in Crisscross. It is unlikely they’ll be back until tomorrow morning. Spend the night with Carinda. It might take some more time but if we move Carinda and make any injuries she has worse this whole thing will probably take even longer

>>5065607
Support. Let's get to know our waifu.

>>5065471
That >>5065607 plus shout for Tetreus and Vera
40

“The ale is not worth you getting hurt and injured, Carinda!” You frowned. You weren’t angry but…

“It was at the time, Julian,” she swiped the keg she was holding with pride. Seeing your concern, however, her broad smile fell short. She fussed, “You know how much hard work was put to make this batch, money -and- time, not mine alone but yours, and others’.” She put her hand on her beating chest, looking down as if disappointed with herself. Her heavy breath made you even more worried! “But in hindsight, you’re right."

You stood up, placing your hands against your two knees. All this walking and climbing had weakened you. “It could’ve been worse. Please wait here. I am going to go ask for help,” you leaned your head to point to where you descended. Before you could leave Carinda alone she grabbed onto your wrist with a dwarven grip.

“I don’t care how safe those lowlands are, Julian, it’s still dangerous. You should go home immediately.”

“I am going to come back,” you insisted against her wishes. “There’s a man-at-arms who came to visit you and me today, up in the alehouse. I’ll tell you later in much detail, Carinda, but for now… stay and rest.”

“Julian, we really should be worried about -you- here,” she shook her head. “It’s going to be a cold night, and a dangerous one. Dwarven flesh is not tasty and is hard to digest for most threatening predators, but they are not afraid to attack defenseless humans. If anything bad happens, it's going to be hard for me to protect you…”

“It’s final, master Carinda. I am coming back and we are spending this night together.” You became silent as soon as your words became clear; you meant your words to be devoid of immorality. You turned before a single glimpse of your blush was visible.
Conclusive words spoken, you began the climb.

“You shouldn’t be ignoring your master’s concerns”- she did not seem to be bothered by what you said, and she did not take it the wrong way -"Bring some candles and mugs from the alehouse, Julian, please.”

“I will!” you shouted.

It was hard to follow the trail back in the late hours of the day. With you leaning down like a hunchback to keep track of the ground with your hands, the ascend took more time than you hoped it would. In due time, you saw a solemn fire in the distance: Tetreus was holding a torch.

“Veronica! King's Representative! I am here!” Your voice boomed, silencing the sounds of the night.

After a fraught pause, they moved to meet you. As Tetreus approached you, you noticed the ardent fire fall across his entire body of metal armour, with Veronica following behind him. You could see the shine of his blue eyes. He asked after allowing you a dignified pause to catch your breath, “Are you going to tell me whenever you found her or not?”

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“I did… I did, is down there, but injured. She thinks - and it looks that way - that she either broke or sprained her foot and her arm. She shouldn’t be moving in her state. King’s Representative, could I ask you to bring a doctor to her. I understand it’ll take time until tomorrow morning, so I’ll stay with her until then.

“You are going to spend the night outside?” Tetreus shook his head, “You should not be doing that.”

You harrumphed. “Really, you too?”

“It will be a problem if something happens to you. You will disappoint the King if those seven years of investment were for nought.”

“And what about Carinda?”

He squeezed the sword's hilt. He sighed. “You are at the end of your apprenticeship. What happens to your dwarven master from now on is less of my concern than what happens to you. Do you understand?”

You glared angry and sullen at the man. You turned to Veronica, “Well, it’s my concern. I am not going to leave here alone out here. Vera, ask somebody with any kind of medical knowledge to come here at earliest.”

She looked at Tetreus, and then awkwardly back at you. Ignoring his stare, she put one of her hands on her hips to stand a power pose, hitting the other below her chest, “You can count on me but... I hope you know what you are doing, lardhead.

"You’ll have to tell me who to call, though, we don’t have any doctors in Crisscross."

You knew that. You pondered. “Call Eryn, the husbandry veterinarian. She’s usually the one people go to for assistance.”

“She’s a bit cuckoo.”

You passed between her and Tetreus to venture towards the alehouse. “She likes being compared to animals, but I am not sure she’d appreciate if you call her that.” You reminded her. If Vera calls her as grateful as a horse, she'll even come during the night. You stopped to look back at your friend.

She smiled band: her talk with Tetreus seemed to have gone well. You hoped you did not cause her any problems. You picked a mug (why would she need more than one?), candles and a torch you managed to somehow light up from the still-burning candle. It was hard and daunting to navigate in the dark cottage. The creaking boards were loud, prophesying another collapse. You managed to escape unharmed, but Jacob was going to pay for his shoddy work and for getting master Carinda injured.

Tetreus had already left, and Veronica was leading-following him back to Crisscross. Fatigued - with your legs stumbling over the uneven gradient slopes - you returned to Carinda. To your surprise and romantic pride she had constructed and lit up a big campfire. It was shining like a beacon, but instead of warning you to stare away, it was aflame with a warm welcome. You found your way down much easier once you spotted it.

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“You look horrible, Julian,” Carinda smiled. She was holding a hand axe she used to scrap the tree of bark and branches. You took the torch and stuck it not far from the campfire. You gave her the one mug.

She frowned, “I thought I told you to bring a few?”

“I am not going to drink, master Carinda,” you reminded. “I can’t just yet, and it’s not a good idea-”

She shook her head and chuckled, “You are not going to impress a dwarf by saying you don’t drink, and I know you tried it a couple of times already.” Trudging, she bellied towards the barrel to pour herself some foamy ale. “There won’t be much for us to do tonight but drink Julian, but I will not force you. You are lucky we are not in Vag Ladur. To refuse a drink from another dwarf can turn into a very long and nasty feud.”

“Is that -really- true?” you joined Carinda by the fire.

Like a shapely beautiful statue, the fire made her figure irradiant.

She nodded with utter seriousness, “It is the truth.”

“Even if the one who is being offered is a small child?”

She lifted the mug, gulping it down loud and proud. A moustache of foam formed around her lips. You have seen it many times, she had never bothered to remove it. You found it endearing. Captivating. Many times you wished you could affectionately remove it with fingers or with a ki-

“It’s unlikely an adult dwarf would offer a child a drink, Julian. A dwarf would only offer another a drink if he is gracious, indebted, impressed, as an accompanying reward, or similar. It is unlikely a young dwarf would be able to impress an adult dwarf to earn himself a drink, but that’s how many young dwarfs first try the ale. Call it a semi-initiation ceremony.”

> Was she… impressed by something you did? “I changed my mind. Please pour me just this once.”
> “You should be resting not drinking. The sooner we go to sleep, the sooner the morning will come.”
> It’s lonely for dwarfs to be drinking by themselves. “I am almost an adult, I can handle a few drinks…”
> “I will accept your drink but only if you tell me why. The reason I don’t know about this dwarven tradition is that you never told me - or offered me one. Did I do something worthy?” Did you?
> [Write In]

>>5066418
> “I will accept your drink, but could you tell me why? The reason I don’t know about this dwarven tradition is that you never told me - or offered me one. Did I do something worthy?” Did you?

Maybe not quite so insistent and ultimatum-y as the original phrasing. We are her apprentice, and she doesn't owe us anything.

>>5066475
Support

>>5066418
>> “I will accept your drink but only if you tell me why. The reason I don’t know about this dwarven tradition is that you never told me - or offered me one. Did I do something worthy?” Did you?

>>5066418
>>5066475 +1

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“I will accept your offer - the drink - master Carinda,” you said, reaching your hand above the firepit. Carinda tilted her head with a satisfied grin. She leaned on the keg with her elbow and pushed the tap open once more, filling the mug to the brim edges, and way above. The overabundant ale and foam rolled down the sides and over her hand. You watched as she lifted her elbow and rubbed the spirit on her knuckles against her lips. You did your best not to stare... too obviously.

You took the mug with both of your hands. You sniffled: the cold air made your nose runny and unable to appreciate the true aesthetics of the gift. “Thank you.” As you lifted it towards your mouth, you stopped. You reservedly gulped your saliva, not the ale. “This is the first time I heard about this dwarven tradition. Master, I am very happy and grateful - thank you again - for such honours but can I ask why? I don’t remember doing anything worthy today.” The edges of your lips raised, “You should wait until I am done with my masterpiece.”

Carinda stared blankly at you. Her features closed up before she moved her hand to avoid pushing the weight of her body on it. “You are taking it too seriously, Julian. It’s a dwarven tradition, I do not expect you to follow them.” The woman chuckled, “I am not going to feud with you and your family for this.” She waved her hand towards the drink in your hands. You hesitated.

“Can you tell me why you are ‘rewarding’ me?”

“Well, today… no, it’s for all the other times I was thinking of giving it. Your family might not have liked it.”

“I don’t think they would care, their only wish is for me to ‘grow the family name’, whatever that means.” You couldn't help but complain.

Her laugh was empty of malice, “Are you still angry about it?”

She meant your mother offering you as her blacksmith assistant. You were, yes; at the time. Why would any child wish to work in harsh conditions of the forge under a creature from lands far away - a very short and very loud woman dwarf? It is hard to admit now, but you are grateful to your mother, albeit for different reasons…

You took a sip once the foam was no longer a problem. “No, I am very happy now,” you muttered.

“You impressed me many times before, Julian,” your master self-confessed when she noticed you did not take another sip; the ale was of amazing taste, it was not the reason why. You thought you would be unable to smell or taste it. Despite it being late autumn, it felt as if all the hops around you sprouted and bloomed, the smell filling your nostrils and tickling your brain. You felt hot, your body now very welcoming of the chill wind.

She continued, “Remember when you helped me complete the order for one hundred candle holders, each with a unique engraving and hallmark? I did not let you help me, because they expected it to be of the highest quality, and it was only your second year? I was too tired, fell asleep, and woke up to you working all night to finish the minute details I was postponing.”

“Somewhat,” you admit, staring towards the fire, “It was the first time you were -that- angry.”

She grinned, “I was, but you did a very fine job. There was nothing to fault, so I let you help me.” She looked at the almost-full mug you were still holding in your hands. She licked her lips and shook her head, leaning further on the tree trunk, “I could’ve rewarded you when ‘Looney’”- the pony - “ran away from the stable because you spend the next few days looking for her despite my objections and doubts. And you did find her.”

Your ears turned red, but you did not interrupt her. You wanted to hear more. You wanted Carinda to praise you.

“Or that time the chimney got filled with soot and instead of waiting for me to return and deal with it, you tried - and succeeded - in cleaning it yourself? And then, the other time, when you went into a still-hot one to save a cat from being stuck in there and boiled.”

Your hands trembled. “I always thought I disappointed you with all those things.”

“Of course not, I was proud,” her voice carried her honest thoughts. She pointed towards the mug, “Now, another dwarven tradition is that if you -do- start a drink, you finish it. Come on, stop delaying, I want to drink as well.”

You followed her nudge. You began drinking the ale, taking a few pauses to finish it completely. You held your hands to your mouth; you did it -too- quickly. You knew that any drinks made in the village previously were too weak for Carinda, so the ale she made was much stronger. You were grateful you did not vomit out.

She was watching you with embarrassing precision. You caressed your stomach as you hung her the empty mug. She looked inside it with a mysterious smile.

“I am surprised you remember all that; do all dwarfs have such a good memory?”

She began pouring herself another drink, “No, that’s just me.”

> “This man-at-arms I told you about said he was King’s Representative, and he was here to judge my masterpiece work. Master Carinda, do you know anything about this?”
> “Carinda, I can’t tell you exactly why but I wanted to ask you to give me a ride to the Quarry; it’s for the masterpiece. I was hoping we could ride on your wagon, but with your injuries now, I am not sure anymore...”
> “Master Carinda, please let me make you a splint. It’s best if we don’t disturb your bent limbs.” You do not know how to make a splint; two planks of wood?
> “I see I did a lot of things to deserve a dwarven drink… do you think I can have another one?”
> “Why did you decide to come all the way to Crisscross to train me - I mean - a human apprentice?”
> Blame the alcohol. “Do you have to leave…?”
> [Write In]

>>5067126
> “Master Carinda, please let me make you a splint. It’s best if we don’t disturb your bent limbs.” You do not know how to make a splint; two planks of wood?
> “This man-at-arms I told you about said he was King’s Representative, and he was here to judge my masterpiece work. Master Carinda, do you know anything about this?”

>>5067126
>“This man-at-arms I told you about said he was King’s Representative, and he was here to judge my masterpiece work. Master Carinda, do you know anything about this?”
>“Carinda, I can’t tell you exactly why but I wanted to ask you to give me a ride to the Quarry; it’s for the masterpiece. I was hoping we could ride on your wagon, but with your injuries now, I am not sure anymore...”
> “Master Carinda, please let me make you a splint. It’s best if we don’t disturb your bent limbs.” You do not know how to make a splint; two planks of wood?

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> Apologies, no update today. Burdens of being a wagie. As an apology, here is an art of a busty dwarf - although she does not look a lot like Carinda.

Your knees wobbled as you stood up from the ground. Your master was in pain, and you could not bear to see her suffering like this. Before you became an apprentice you once broke your arm as a result of an unfortunate plummet from atop of a tall tree. To a certain degree, you remember what they did to ease your strain until it got healed.

“Master Carinda, please let me make you a splint. It’s best if we don’t disturb your bent limbs.”

She looked back and shook her head - like a mother would, “It’s dangerous for you to be alone out there, during the night.”

“I won’t go far,” you insisted, “I just need a few sturdy pieces of wood.”

She made an attempt to stand up from her spot, but she put too much weight on her wrist and fell back down to lean against the trunk of the tree with a soft lament. She raised her lips and lifted her hand to massage her snow-white eyebrows. She yielded to you a silent nod.

You went behind the tree to search for the objects of your need. It didn't take long. When you returned, Carinda was again holding a spumy mug of brew. You could hear a sigh escape her closed lips when you came back. She reached her hand to - likely - take the planks of wood off your hands.

You withheld it from her. Approaching Carinda, you shook your head, “Trust me, it’s very annoying to put a splint on your own." You kneeled before her, "I need you to sit down, master.”

She scoffed. She disliked a lot to sit when talking to people.

You grabbed her arm to put it on top of the plank, “It’ll take a few minutes, then we can talk…”

She rolled her eyes but did neither lift nor forfend her hand away. Still holding her arm, you removed pieces of metal that you used to evaluate the bead’s design on Vera to place them on your lap. She had a curious look when she noticed your inventory. Oh no, has she realized something? With a held breath, you trailed your fingers against her warm yet thinny skin. You did not look her in the eyes, but when you pushed to where it hurt the most, you saw her quaver.

You glanced away; you did not want her to think you were doing this for no purpose, or for your enjoyment. You placed her hand in the best position to recover, keeping it supported and braced by the metal strings and corks. You repeated the same thing with her right foot. The surroundings were silent, and your heart was beating with a thud. You stood up to return to your turf behind the campfire.

“Wait.” Her voice made you stop. You watched as she looked at both of the makeshift splints with an eye she would inspect both hers’ and yours’ pieces of blacksmithing. She leaned to pour yet another round. Her balance was awkward as she stood up from the damp leafy ground and, taking a step forward before you could, she offered you the mug - again.

You falteringly accepted it. “Did I earn this with the splints?”

“No, it’s for staying with me tonight.”

You pushed your hand with as much force as possible against your chest to stop it from being louder than Carinda’s thundering voice. “Master Carinda… Didn’t you tell me to go back home and leave you…?”

“I -know- what I said, Julian,” she crossed her leg as she leaned back on the tree, turning to face you, “I -meant- what I said… but I still appreciate the fact that you decided to stay. And splints, them too.”

You smiled, lifting your chin. You made sure to not overburden yourself and take a couple of gradual sips. It was not -rare- for Carinda to be happy with you, but it was not often she praised you this much either.

Once the miraculous alcohol flowed through your stomach, you gave back the mug to the eager Carinda. You asked, your lips somewhat unsealed by the liquid courage. “Carinda, I can’t tell you exactly why but I wanted to ask you to give me a ride to the Quarry; it’s for the masterpiece. I was hoping we could ride on your wagon, but with your injuries now, I am not sure anymore...”

“The Quarry?” she said, her mouth filling with ale. “Sure thing, Julian. Let us depart as soon as we can tomorrow.” She had a shameless grin.

“But your injuries…”

She lifted her left foot and right hand, “Those are well and mint. I can ride the wagon with one hand and I’ll quickly make a crutch once we are back. for the leg” She did not ask anything more about the trip. You knew she was guessing.

“There’s one more thing, master Carinda. This man-at-arms I told you about said he was King’s Representative, and he was here to judge my masterpiece work. Master Carinda, do you know anything about this?”

“Judge your masterpiece?” her voice peaked and her eyes widened. “Do they think I’ll play favourites or something? No, I have not heard anything about some ‘King Representative’ visiting. I don’t trust that…” She rolled the ale in her mug; she was staring into it like it was some tea leaf prophecy. “Julian,” she pointed the mug towards you, “You deserve to make your masterpiece with no annoyances. Let me tell this ‘Representative’ to stop bothering you. If he wants to judge it, he can wait until it’s finished as you asked me to.”

> “I don’t want you to get in trouble with the king, Carinda. I don’t think it’s a problem if we let him accompany us.”
> “You are right, I would prefer to have as light to worry about as I make it, and only you to accompany me.”
> “I think you know best, master Carinda.”
> [Write In]

> I am open to suggestions on improving the quest.

>>5069026
>“I think you know best, master Carinda.”
Though I think her suspicions are a little unfounded, the rep. seems to only be there to ensure it's your work alone. Not like they couldn't get any ancient dwarvern secrets from you if they really wanted to.

More shorstacks? Hard to say what to improve on since it's only a one shot. I suppose you could be a little more concise, though since it's only a post a day that makes sense

>>5069026
>"I don't want you to get in trouble with the king, Carinda."

Digging this quest quite a bit! I'm glad we got to spend some time actually getting a feel for Carinda's personality and appeal.

>>5069026
>> “I don’t want you to get in trouble with the king, Carinda. I don’t think it’s a problem if we let him accompany us.”

>>5069026
>“I don’t want you to get in trouble with the king, Carinda. I don’t think it’s a problem if we let him accompany us.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble with the king, Carinda. I don’t think it’s a problem if we let him accompany us.”

She waved her uninjured hand, “You don’t have to worry about me, Julian. He will not do anything to me.”
She found you staring her down, the pupils of your eyes flaring. Your master returned the glare before thumping and rolling the bottom of the mug against her knee. She let out an exasperated sigh, “If you insist, but I won’t let him bother you so just concentrate on your masterpiece, alright?”

You smiled, “Thank you, Carinda.”

A bitter and howling wind whisked over, through and above the austere field. The huge tree safeguarded Carinda from the gale. You - who was sitting on the opposite side of her - was not as lucky. The blazing fire toiled against the wind, the flames flickering and shaking like water in a bowl. While before the night was already tempestuous and cold, now it was unbearable. You shuddered. There was nowhere for you to hide from it.

“Are you cold?” Carinda realized, leaning forward to face you. You shook your head but she saw through it. “You are not? If you get sick tomorrow we are not going anywhere until you get better; certainly not to the Quarry.”

You grasped your shuddering body with your crossed-embracing arms. Your chattering teeth were not as easy to suppress, “I-I won’t lie, I d-do wish we h-had some c-camping equipment r-right about now.” Your chuckling broke.

Carinda writhed her body to the side and tapped the ground with her left hand before raising and holding it as if she was about to grab a fruit from this tree. Was she telling you to sit near her?

> Accept Carinda’s invitation and sit beside her. Join her in her merry drinking to hide your embarrassment.
> Accept Carinda’s invitation and sit beside her. Refuse further drinks but continue to talk through the night.
> Refuse Carinda’s invitation - your heart was racing and beating like crazy. Go search for more firewood to bring to make the campfire bigger and warmer, as well to clear your head and calm your teenage emotions.
> [Write In]

>>5069075
> I am afraid there will only be this one shortstack. I will try to be a bit more concise.

>>5069235
> Thank you.

>>5070217
>> Accept Carinda’s invitation and sit beside her. Refuse further drinks but continue to talk through the night.
Seems like Julian can't really handle his drink + we want to be clear headed tomorrow monring
>>5070220
> I am afraid there will only be this one shortstack
You monster.

>>5070217
>> Accept Carinda’s invitation and sit beside her. Join her in her merry drinking to hide your embarrassment.

>>5070217
> Accept Carinda’s invitation and sit beside her. Refuse further drinks but continue to talk through the night
> Tentatively broach the subject of why she's leaving, and she/if she'll be back

>>5070217
>>5071038 + 1

> Update will be later today.

There wouldn’t be another chance like this one, at least not for a very long time. You stood up wordlessly; not because you had nothing to say, but because you did not want to tattle the wrong thing. You still had your senses with you; it would be ridiculous to confess your feelings and bring your inner thoughts out into the open now. The strong dwarven brew, matured and enriched, was having its effect on you. The scarceness of what you were able to descry— Carinda, the campfire, and the poorly lit but still visible tree—were all whirling and frolicking in front of your eyes like an unsteady blur. Carinda was the only blur that had a feeble shine.

You did your best to avoid stepping straight into the fire. You were wearing a pair of very low-heeled and scarce-layered boots; getting injured -now- would be the dumbest thing you could’ve done. Impressing your crush by jumping over the flames would not be worth it… ‘It would not be worth it’ you repeated.

Your terrible vision improved significantly when you stopped in front of the mastersmith, her snickering figure as pleasing to your eyes as ever. Your back was leaning against the empty air like a straw-man for a short-of-minute. You managed to twist your legs and fall—without intending so—into her arm. Carinda’s hand grasped your left shoulder with a strong yet at the same time reassuring hold. She pushed you; not towards her large chest or her stomach, but against her side. The people you knew did this to their boozing friends in the community tavern. A rush of blood from being in such intimate contact with your most-cherished forced a leaden headache, as well as the much-needed lucidity. You took a long breath and a rushed exhale in vain, the sudden cold air made you choke.

“Carinda,” you hushed, making yourself comfortable in her embrace, “I think that’s all I can drink tonight…”

She leaned to stare into your eyes—yours reflecting in hers. “Yeah, I agree—you should stop.”

You did not want her to agree with such seriousness.

“Sorry, I know how much dwarfs don’t like drinking all by themselves.”

Carinda shook your body left and right. “Julian, as I said, I don’t expect you to follow the dwarven traditions.”

“But” —you grabbed the hand she was holding onto you with two of yours— “I want to know how to follow those customs!”

“Why?”

“Because-” you hesitated. Because… Your fingers started to tremble over the hazel-olive skin of her skin - your quail couldn't be any more obvious. Now was -not- the time to tell her. You were to give her a -gift-! A -meaningful- gift. A masterpiece that would be full of meaning. You bit your lip. The alcohol masked the sting. “Because.”

“Just because?” She looked at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Yes. It’s not fair only you get to learn our traditions.”

She leaned her head with a deaf thump, her eyes were now looking at the rolling horizon of hills and meadows, and even further, to the lustrous sky.

“I was to spend seven years here, Julian. It makes sense I would need to fit in." She grinned, "I did put in a lot of effort. Why would you need to?"

You had a chance to push her mind away from the obvious. “I’d like to visit the dwarfs someday?”

“I doubt that’s a good idea,” she lifted the mug to drink—alcohol rolling down her throat like a coiled snake. You waited until she finished. She gulped. “Nonetheless - with your king, you can never know.”

Your eyes fell to the ground. You strayed your hand across the crisp grass. “Will you leave Crisscross in the future, master Carinda?”

There was no noticeable sadness in your voice, or so you hoped.

“As soon as, but only when, you are officially a mastersmith,” she nodded. She turned to face your tipsy self.

“What are you going to do after?”

“I don’t know if I can share it with you or not; what your human king promised us…” She looked upwards, chewing on her thoughts. She grabbed you tighter, pushing you even closer. Now, your cheeks were rubbing against hers. With a coy grin, she lifted her injured arm to wave it towards the stars, “Ouch... let’s see… He promised us something very valuable, Julian, in return for teaching one of you the dwarven blacksmithing.” She elevated and softened her loud voice, “Once I return to Vag Ladur, I and my friends, my family, and much of my clan are going to be extremely busy.”

“Will you come back?” You cleared your throat before she could answer, “To visit?”

“Do you want me to visit?”

You frowned, “Of course I do.”

For a moment—you noticed—you made her take a step aback. Her hand slid off your shoulder and then… whack! She snapped her fingers seconds away from your nose. Her stocky arm stopped you from springing up like a frog. She was asserting herself now.

“It is unlikely I will ever come back,” she said, her voice barely present, her lips barely moving.

*** *** ***

You don’t remember the precise moment you slipped into sleep, but you continued to talk with your master through the early hours of the night, reminiscing on the past seven years. You were too embarrassed to fall asleep in her friendly—even motherly—embrace so you “escaped” before that happened. You woke with no headache: like any dwarf, Carinda made sure that her spirits induced no hangover; as if her drinks needed another abundant reason for being so successful, and so expensive…

There it was. A loud and unbroken snore woke you up. Yes, your beloved master had the noisiest and gaudiest snore. She was a very heavy sleeper, and never woke up by anyone or anything but her biological clock. It was cold: the fire was dead, and the last morning ambers were dying. Your body was hurting, you were not used to sleeping outside.

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Carinda was still sleeping and you opened your eyes in the hope of watching her sleeping face: a rare opportunity Others would've hated her snoring, but you did not mind...

Instead, what you found growling and wheezing was a colossal drowsy animal: a brown bear! You feel backwards into the dew-rich grass, droplets exploding like cloudbursts around you. Carinda was sleeping indeed, and snoring, but so was the big omnivore. Its head laid in comfort on its two paws, with its body lying stomach-down on the wet soil without care. A few centimetres from the bear laid the ale keg and the tap Carinda used to fill her mug last night.

> Cautiously take Carinda’s heirloom hammer - that she never let you use - and make a hole in the wooden barrel to wake up the bear and then have it focus on something else other than you and master. Hope that it’ll wake up Carinda.
> Carefully approach Carinda and then grab and squeeze her injured leg and hand to try and wake her up.
> Sit in absolute silence and hope that Tetreus and others will arrive before the bear wakes up.
> Carinda is not going to wake up. Take her below her elbow and shoulder and try your best to carry her away.
> Pick up a long and weighty branch of wood and use the last ambers to let it alight to use it as a torch against the beast.
> [Write In]

> I didn't lie!

>>5072076
>Use the heirloom hammer on the cask

>>5072076
>Cautiously take Carinda’s heirloom hammer - that she never let you use - and make a hole in the wooden barrel to wake up the bear and then have it focus on something else other than you and master. Hope that it’ll wake up Carinda.

>>5072076
Very slowly and carefully reach the tap and turn it slightly if the bear wakes the smell of the drink should draw its attention and the slow trickle should hopefully keep it focused on breaking the cask open instead of your bodies

Why was there a bear here, so far outside of the forest or the abundant streams? Being as quiet as you could manage, you stood up from the lowland mound. You raised your hands over your lips. It was unlikely for the bear to hear your gasping and breathing in the cacophony of their snores but you wished to take no chance. You had no experience dealing with bears! Was it going to attack you? Was it even a female or a male?—you couldn’t guess. You heard that female kind are far more overprotective of the things they claim as their own, and are much more predisposed in their aggressiveness. Males were far deadlier to survive against…

You moused towards your master, your arms clutching for the belt that held her dark-silver heirloom hammer inside of a leather sheath. The sheath had as many as ten bronze snaps interlacing around the head and the handle of the hammer. With your lack of ability to deal with such hammer-scabbard, you had to struggle until you could free the heirloom.

You had no reason to be loud; not yet. You and your master were petite in size—there was denying that—and the bear was massive both in stature and weight. There was no way you were going to scare it away by trying to out-intimidate it. Holding the hammer in your hand with a tight grip, you tiptoed towards the pair of barrels, keeping an intense eye on the beast.

The timber layers of the keg were rock-like, but Carinda’s heirloom was stronger. A strike would break and let out the alcohol, its foam, a bouquet of smells, and a liquid river of intoxicant, but it would also be loud.

You fell down before the large barrel. You reached for the tap to twist it open. Without delay, you took a few steps back into the “safety” of the campfire grounds.

A growl interrupted the intense snore. A sharp, explosive inhale followed soon afterwards. The snout of this bear was as large as a black rock any adult would have a problem holding in their palm. Its nostrils gaped and enlarged once you opened the tap.

> Sit down beside Carinda and pretend to be asleep. Watch what the bear will do from the corner of your eye.
> Hide behind the tree before the bear wakes up and notices you. Watch the bear from a distance, ready to act.
> While the bear is still half-asleep, open the tap on the second still-full keg. Make sure you do not get in the bear’s way.
> [Write In]

>>5072567
>Crouch down beside Carinda and watch what the bear
Don't want to aggitate it but also pretty stupid to not be ready in case something goes wrong. Hopefully Vera will be here soon with the doctor and the knight

>>5072567
>>5072742
Supporting this one.

>>5072567
>>5072742 +1

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You slipped across the campfire to reach the snoozing dwarf. Taking a deep breath, you crouched down beside her. You pointed your head downwards and your half-opened eyes were hid under your bangs. You followed the movements of the bear while also making yourself appear clueless, non-threatening and unconscious. The mud of the ground muffled the bears' rousing roar and growl.

The bear raised one of its paws to drag it from underneath its maw and then, like a shovel digging a grave, slammed it with a savage thrust in front of itself. In-between the horrible sounds of its snore and snarl, the bear continued crawling towards the ajar tap, dragging its nose over the vegetation, exposed roots, and twigs. Its pint-sized eyes opened to reveal a bloody glow beneath the thick furry eyelids. The bear crept towards the tap and—with extreme laziness—pushed its head beneath the petite waterfall of ale. The ale splashed over the animal’s muzzle, drenching its fur. The bear clenched the metal tap with its long teeth and began to gnaw on it.

It was clear: the small leak was not enough for the beast. Eager for more, it made an attempt to bite off the tap. A metal rattle clanged and clamoured as the brown bear chewed on the object; it only left marks. The bear choked and spat out the faucet. It heaved up and then smashed the barrel with a ricocheting and thunderous bang. The flock of birds that were before chattering on the branches of the tree hurried to escape.

Once the bear toppled the ale keg, it pinned the keg beneath its body and began to wrestle it. The sharp claws tore deep into the wooden covers of the barrel, cracking and squeezing it. The barrel did not break completely. If it did, all of the ale would've just flooded out into the ground; you had no bravery or any sensible way to explain that to the loud omnivore... The bear continued to grapple until...

Your silence and bear's sounds of affray were interrupted by Carinda’s own voice. In deep sleep still, she was repeating the growls and roars of the animal like a parrot. While it would’ve been amusing in any other situation, it was the worst of times then. The bear stopped assaulting the treasure container… it glared at Carinda.

> Cover the mouth of your master with your hands and stay silent.
> Prepare yourself to smash the bear’s maw with the hammer if it dares to lunge towards your master.
> Stand up and strike the tree trunk behind you with the hammer and then stand up and roar at the bear.
> Toss the hammer towards the barrel hoping that it’ll reach and break the cask to free the ale.
> [Write In]

>This update, while short, took me a lot longer than necessary to complete. That is why it's late today too.

>>5073695
>> Prepare yourself to smash the bear’s maw with the hammer if it dares to lunge towards your master.

>>5073695
> Prepare yourself to smash the bear’s maw with the hammer if it dares to lunge towards your master.

>>5073695
>Prepare yourself to smash the bear’s maw with the hammer if it dares to lunge towards your master.

File: The bear turned to face you....jpg (41 KB, 588x441)

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Not wanting to aggravate the bear any further, you stopped breathing and shivering. You continued to take in the actions of the animal through your half-closed eyes. Both of your arms grasped the leatherbound handle of the hammer. The bear dragged its sharp claws in a full circle around the ale keg—wooden shavings cramping onto the ground—before it let go of the container. The omnivore stood unmoving—its’ ears twitching with growing alertness. With its teeth tucked away, the bear turned towards you and growled. Your hibernating master growled back right at it.

This prompted the bear to turn all of its attention and anger at you. Its black nostrils began to exhale and inhale as it advanced towards you. It repeated the growl, much louder this time. Your body shivered as you prepared for the worst. You were a blacksmith, you had some power behind your swing! There is no running away, but if you were to land a precise -and- lucky shot, you might just scare it away, or kill it… You hoped so as you watched it come closer and closer. With every one of its growing barks and gnarls, Carinda repeated each one—louder and louder.

The monstrous bear leapt across the perished campfire, its entire body lunging towards you. It was going after Carinda! You opened your eyes and swung the antique hammer, but the bear was faster. Immediately changing its target, the bear’s paw pushed you against the tree, breaking your swing. Gasping for breath, you lowered the hammer and attempted to swing it from beneath, but the bear’s claw veered at you before you could attack it first.

A cracking snap of the hammer, a fountain of blood, deep bleeding of the cleave-mark on your hand, a roar of the animal's whiffing mouth, and a cry of pain; all those sounds echoed at the same time, yet were distinct to your ears. With your grip wrecked, the hammer hurled into the deep grass. You squeezed your injured hand; were you going to beat it with your fists?! You reached for Carinda to shield her with your body...

For a moment, you considered those being the last moments of your life, and that is why it was taking the beast so long to execute the finishing blow… however, no, the time was not standing still. You turned to find the bear fumbling with a drunken stupor. The ale? No, there was a sun-glistering iron bolt stuck in its shoulder. The animal trashed against the intense pain only to find another metal bolt penetrating its stomach. It appeared so quick it practically manifested. The bear shortly realized you were not the culprit and began to search for the unexpected attacker.

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You clutched your open wound with your other hand, the blur appearing on the horizon. A loud clang of metal plates and chainmail rings was heard way off in the distance, getting closer and closer. The bear was retreating as fast the man-at-arms was approaching. A majestic full-white war horse gaited towards you, stopping with a loud stomping and a neigh. Tetreus jumped off the horse with a Teutonic stoutness, landing right before you. He looked at you in silence before offering his hand to the woman on top of the horse: Eryn. The white-haired veterinarian jumped directly into his arms and kneeled before you with long stripes of old cloths. She began to bandage your maimed and still bleeding hand.

Tetreus struck the rear of the steed with his gauntlet, and his warhorse complied. It galloped towards the bear with a thundering scream. The ground rumbled beneath its hooves in its run. With no wasted momentum, the horse stomped the ground before the drunk, sleepy, and now injured bear. The colossal omnivore stood up on its hind legs and roared but the warhorse was unfaltering.

It too stood up and with a horse screech raised its glistering metal horseshoes. This display blinded and scared the animal. It was forced to flee. You sighed with relief. Eryn turned to deal with sleeping Carinda.

*** *** ***

You winced: beneath the layers of cloth and salves your injured hand was aching and hurting. It has been several hours since you were treated by Eryn and brought back to Crisscross and the blacksmithy. Carinda rode Tetreus’ horse—the God’s Gallop—with him back to the hamlet; she only woke up in the middle of the travel. You managed to return the hammer to her belt before she woke up. As you were preparing for the journey and loading the white-iron wagon, Carinda was being treated by Eryn in her dwelling - far from you but close to the graze-lands.

“I can’t believe you fought a bear!” Vera was on top of the horse-drawn wagon, her head leaning back to be able to see you from up above.

“More like—I barely survived a bear attack,” you said, rummaging through the tools you were likely to need to start working on or complete your masterpiece; as well as picks and pikes to gather the metal materials.

“I wish I could see it!” she grabbed the edge of the wagon’s roof to spin around—her haystack hair acting as a cushion. “And a horse fighting off a bear? That never happens, Julian! I only believe you because it was the warhorse of the King’s Representative, and it is quite amazing indeed!”

You folded the warm woollen throws into two. “I am grateful for him saving my life… But I don’t think he’s happy about having to do it.”

“Julian… Julian where are you?” you heard the voice of your mother. You made sure to quickly hide your injured hand—why did it have to be your right hand?! “Julian… Oh, there you are!” Her figure came into view from behind the smithy. A big smile adorned her face.

“Mother?” you asked without bothering to say ‘Welcome’. Now was not the time, “It’s… good to see you. Do you need my help?”

You noticed a girl your age following your mother. Crisscross is small, you’ve seen her before a few times, but never long enough to get close. She was wearing a gown of black and purple hues with a wide square buckle belt covering her stomach like a visible corset. Her ebony hair was layered into a bob-cut, with lengthy even bangs half-concealing her eyes. Her fingers massaged her hand.

“Good day miss Rina!” Vera shouted to greet your mother.

"Hello, Veronica," She paused, “I do need your time, Julian."

“Well if it's something you need to be made or repaired in the smithy I’m afraid it’ll be closed for a couple of days,” you said.

Your mother approached the wagon. She looked past the dwarven ponies and inside of it, “Are you leaving to somewhere?”

“Yes,” you shrugged your shoulders, placing the warm cosy throws inside of the wagon, “I am currently busy working on my masterpiece-”

“That’s even better!” your mother exclaimed. Her boots spun as she grabbed the girl by her shoulders—who was standing in silence—from behind and pushed her towards you. “Take Pietra with you for a date."

“Pietra?” you took a few steps back to make some distance between you and the girl. She avoided making an eye contact.

Your mother nodded happily, “You know the millers, the Wawian family? She is their oldest daughter; very pretty!”

You swallowed, glancing away from them both, “I don’t think there’s going to be enough space, sorry mother.”

Her smile twitched, but her head immediately turned to look at Veronica, “Vera, dear, does your mother or anyone from your family know you are planning to leave today on a dangerous and long journey?” Veronica’s face turned pale.

> “How many times do I have to tell you that I am not interested in your marriage arrangements, mother?”
> “What happens between Vera and her family is none of -our- business, mother.”
> “It’s going to be a boring journey, mother. Pietra is not going to enjoy if she comes.”
> “Sorry, Pietra, but I am -very- busy right now.” Turn to Pietra to reason with her instead of your mother.
> “If master Carinda will not mind, then she can come with us. But if Carinda says no, then there’s that.”
> “You two—or Pietra alone—will have to speak to master Carinda, it is not my decision to make.”
> [Write In]

>>5074588
>"Sorry, Pietra, but I am -very- busy right now."

>>5074588
>“How many times do I have to tell you that I am not interested in your marriage arrangements, mother?”
> “What happens between Vera and her family is none of -our- business, mother.”

>>5074588
>> “Sorry, Pietra, but I am -very- busy right now.” Turn to Pietra to reason with her instead of your mother.
>> “If master Carinda will not mind, then she can come with us. But if Carinda says no, then there’s that.”
Appeal to higher authority. She seems nice but don't think Julian is ready to give up on master yet
Would be neat if Tetreus got the bear, Vera could have make a cloak or something

You turned to face Pietra. It would be easier to reason with her instead of your mother. "Sorry, Pietra, but I am -very- busy right now.”

The black-haired miller gave you the weakest of nods. Her eye gaze never left the cobbled road.

“You are not -that- busy,” your mother scolded.

On instinct alone, you clutched your mutilated hand. The coursing sting made you flinch. Your gaze turned into a glare as you slipped from Pietra to Rina. “I am busy working on my masterpiece, -mother-; it is to be my last test for master Carinda to appraise.” Beliwderment replaced her smiling expression. With your voice tempered, you continued, “It is going to take me at least a few days, if not longer and—”

“Julian, wait… What is it going to be?”

“I… I am keeping it a secret,” you said.

“Oh really?” She left Pietra’s side to approach the wagon, her lively voice was as light as fluff. “Veronica, dear,” —your mother raised her head to look at your friend— “do you know what piece little Julian is working on?”

Vera's face remained pale. She glanced at you in brief—was she expecting you to approve?!—and then looked back at Rina. An awkward grin spread, her hands tightly holding the edges of the wagon’s roof. “C-can’t say the lardhead told me anything, miss Rina!” She beamed with a nervous and trembling smile. “You know how he is sometimes!”

At the same time, as she continued to hold her ear to ear grin, she began chewing on the inside of her cheek, her smile twisting to make it look as if she ate something exotic, something sour and also bitter. She turned to face you with that terrifying mouthing scowl. “Indeed, Veronica. I know full-well how Julian is. Hm, is there any reason it needs to be a secret?”

“I have my reasons,” you said bluntly.

“It’s not fair to keep secrets from your mother,” she approached you with a calm step, placing her soft hands over your face and chin. She leaned to your ear, whistling through her teeth, “You really should stop being so difficult, Julian. If you keep refusing all the girls I and your father find and try to convince you will not only make us look absolutely horrible, but you’ll soon end up with no one interested and all alone, that'll be sad.”

You grunted, shaking off her palms. “I am not interested right now.”

She harrumphed and turned away. She gave a curtsy to Pietra, “I apologize, dear Pietra, he never told me he was -that- busy today.”

“It is alright,” the girl squeezed her hands beneath her chin. You briefly noticed her olive eyes. “It is understandable if he is preoccupied.”

Your mother glared at you; beneath her smile, there was an absolutist demand. You lowered your back as well in apology to Pietra.

As soon as Pietra and your mother were no longer a bother, Tetreus arrived on top of his gallant warhorse. The plated armour of the heroic-knightly pair was shining as bright as Carinda’s skin, maybe even brighter. He jumped off the horse easily.

“King’s Representative Tetreus!” Vera climbed off the wagon, stumbling and blundering on her way down. She jumped on one leg towards the horse; her previous anxiety gone. She grabbed the horse’s muzzle in an attempt to caress it, but the God’s Gallop immediately spat in her palms and neighed directly into her face with its large horseteeth. Veronica forced out her tongue, swaying her hands to get rid of the droll.

The man-at-arms acknowledged your childhood friend—she did not tell you much on what they both agreed on—before saying, “Are you going to tell me why you were risking your life when I told you not to do so?”

“I did not end up facing that bear on purpose.” You pushed the dwarven-sized doors of the wagon open to toss another chest, and then another leather bag, inside. Tetreus was still looking down at you, “I only fought it because I had to…”

“Did you?” his helmet hallowed his voice; perhaps, it was stuck—has he ever taken it off? “Did you have to get injured?”

“I had to protect Car- my master,” you spoke up.

“You did not,” he said, his presence clangouring as he neared towards you. With force, he grabbed your elbow and raised the injured hand you were hiding. “If you died, those seven years the King waited would’ve been -pointless-, Jiraen. His majesty cares for your life and knowledge.” His gauntlet grasped your scars; you could feel the squeeze despite the layers of cloth. “How are you supposed to work on your masterpiece now? Are you going to ask me to wait weeks, or months, until you get better?” God’s Gallop sneered as if agreeing with Tetreus. “So, what will you say?”

> “My name is Julian, please show me at least that much respect, King’s Representative.”
> “Nothing have changed, I am still going to the Quarry to get the ore and start working on it.”
> “I was trained by masterdwarfsmith, King’s Representative Tetreus. I can craft with just my left hand.”
> “I don’t know anything about the agreements and sacrifices the King made, but I would die for my master.”
> [Write In]

>>5075731
> “I don’t know anything about the agreements and sacrifices the King made, but I would die for my master.”

Surely an honourable knight would understand as much.

> “Nothing have changed, I am still going to the Quarry to get the ore and start working on it.”

>>5075731
>Write In
Would you really expect me to simply abandon my friend and master of seven years?

>>5075731
>> “Nothing have changed, I am still going to the Quarry to get the ore and start working on it.”

You struck the top of the knight’s iron hand with yours. With an ice-cold yet calm stare, you said, “I don’t know anything about the agreements and sacrifices the King has made, but … would you expect me to simply abandon my friend, my master of seven years?” Your forefingers stiffened in a futile attempt to free your injured hand from Tetreus’ grasp. You clenched your teeth, from struggle and the isolated pain. “I would die for my master!”

Tetreus was as defiant as you. He let go of your hand to let you pull out and free it after a few moments of silence.

“She is a dwarf,” he said, placing one of his hands back to the gem-encrusted and elaborately leather-worked scabbard, “She is going to forget you as soon as she leaves this town. I doubt she thinks of your friendships—or cares for it—as much as you do, Jilyan.” He grabbed the reins of the horse to interrupt its unfriendly engagement with Veronica. “It’s her fault the bear attacked, is it not?”

“It's not. You are wrong.” You took a step to be directly under the chin of his headpiece. “King’s Representative Tetreus,” you added with bitterness.

If his plate helm could should a frown, it would’ve. “She will forget you and you will forget her in a few, five, years; do you understand me?”

You were more than an apprentice and a master; you found it useless to argue with the royal man-at-arms. You veiled biting your lip as you raised your wounded hand to bang it against the wagon's ferrous rear. “Nothing has changed. I am still going to the Quarry to get the ore I need to start working on my masterpiece."

Tetreus closed his eyes. He began to rhythmically clack the hilt of his sword with a short panting. “I am preparing myself to be disappointed.” He turned to face the horse and waved his hand towards Veronica, “Assist me, Vornika.”

Vera’s irises jumped from left to right before noticing the metal frames Tetreus was fiddling with. Vera grabbed the leather straps of the stirrup and spread them open for the boot to slide it without a problem. But, the horse was too tall for Tetreus, no matter how dexterous or strong he was, to simply jump into the saddle. “Go down,” he commanded, staring at the horse from beneath the narrow line in his helmet. God’s Gallop obeyed with no hesitation or contentions, falling on all its four legs with soft grace. Tetreus saddled the warhorse.

“Don’t be shy,” Vera said, “Let me do all that squire-y stuff, King’s Representative Te-tre-us! What else?”

The knight adjusted his body, his armour and his weapons. He was talking about you, but he wasn’t looking. He let out a sigh, pulling the reins to have God’s Gallop step away to the front of the wagon, “Are you going to listen to my every demand? You agree to. I am going to tell you what not to do first on this ‘journey’.

“You are not to assist your fellow friend in any way no matter what kind of complicated or deadly problems he’ is to face.”

His disapproval frostbit your skin. There was no way he was telling Vera to let you die if you are in danger, as he did not let that happen himself.

Veronica briefly looked back at you with a high-strung smile, “You are going to be alright on your own, won’t you, lardhead?”

You could understand her dilemma: she wished for that squire position. “Yeah, I’ll be alright," you shrug your shoulders.

“See, King’s Representative?” Veronica waved her hands in the air as if they were just freshly washed, “You have nothing to worry about.” She placed her hands on her hips, “What other hard work can I do for you?”

Tetreus looked at his horse, then his hand reached for his sword only to stop on the hilt. Veronica had a sparkle in her eyes. Her hands reached for the long weapon hanging off Tetreus’ scabbard.

He raised himself, “Are you going to tell me you have experience cleaning and sharpening a sword? That would be a lie. I do not think I can trust you with something so expensive and cherished, Vorynika. You do it, Jilyan.”

“At least let me hold it!” Vera’s hands continued their reach-for.

> “I would rather spend the time of travel talking with my master.”
> “If you are serious about Vera’s square-ship, let her do it.”
> “I will show Vera the basics of sharpening the blade, and then she can do it herself.”
> “Aren’t the men-at-arms suppose to teach their squares everything they know how to do?”
> [Write In]

>>5076865
>I will show Vera the basics of sharpening the blade, so that she can do it herself.

>>5076865
>“I will show Vera the basics of sharpening the blade, and then she can do it herself.”

>>5076865
> “If you are serious about Vera’s square-ship, let her do it.”
> “I will show Vera the basics of sharpening the blade, and then she can do it herself.”
We have more important things to be doing anyway

Your hand slid to rest on top of the wrist of your injured one. “I will show Vera the basics of sharpening the blade, and then she can do it herself. If you are serious about Vera’s square-ship, let her do it.” You frowned, decrying, “You -are- serious about her square-ship, are you not?”

With the voice behind his helm-guard turning laconic, Tetreus declined himself back into the saddle. He passed the excited Vera his scabbard. God’s Gallop trotted forward, their scintillating shape soon disappearing behind the dwarven wagon. She promptly withdrew the blade from its scabbard without even looking for Tetreus to begone. The blade was smooth and thick, made out of the cleanest iron; it was perfectly reflecting the day's sun.

Veronica grasped the grip. She raised the heavy sword above her head, playing with the sunlight on purpose.

“It already looks perfectly clean and sharp,” she pondered. Her lips were shaking from the excitement.

“Make sure you do not drop it,” you approached Veronica. You stood away from the sharp blade.

“-Of course- I won’t drop it, lardhead,” she huffed, her breath raking her spiky hair like the wind would a hayfield.

You pushed your hand to force Vera to lower the sword: you were not one for strict caution, but doing something like this was obviously dangerous! She looked sullen and reluctant as you pushed the pinpoint to the ground.

“I need to finish preparing the wagon, Vera, and once we are on our way there - I’ll show you how it’s done.”

*** *** ***

You did not know how Carinda managed to do it, but she did. Fatigued—with both her right hand and left foot in splints—and walking with a steel crutch of her making, Carinda lead the pony-drawn wagon with no difficulties. Carinda was as loud as ever, and just her left hand was enough to control, pull, and snap the reins.

Tetreus trailed her on the right side of the wagon. He was silent, somnolent, and also very discomfiting…

You and Veronica parked inside the wagon bed. You sat on a bench opposite of her. After a proper but brief tutorial on how to use a whetstone without ruining, or thoroughly destroying with no hope of repair, the laborious nights of the blacksmith who made the sword, you offered it to her together with a bucket of water.

You watched your childhood friend work the blade-edge against the sharpening sword with diligence. Veronica’s eyes were penetrating, and moving together with the blade that she softly lowered and raised. She was completely engaged in grinding and honing the sword. She used the carved bench as a long surface, with her both of her knees placed as if she prayed. Her back faced against you. Veronica didn’t mean it but her (lower) body was moving in a flirtatious and passionate manner, her rear and back tottering as she performed the task.

You chaffed your wrist against your temples. You snatched the sword to take it away from Veronica.

> I could not find any good images of a wagon.
> Tell me if my prose is too long or purple for your liking.
> Tell me what kind of prompts do you prefer?

>>5078098
>Ask after the health of her hammer
>Suggest that Carinda ride in the wagon

>>5078098
>“Is there something wrong with your hammer? Is it damaged? I am sorry… I had little time to think or act.”
> “What’s the best way for me to mine the Ecline Ore?”
> “Do you think we can first stop in the Russet Swamp? There are… other ingredients I need to get first.”

>>5078098
> “What’s the best way for me to mine the Ecline Ore?”
> “Do you think we can first stop in the Russet Swamp? There are… other ingredients I need to get first.”
The boss will probably brush off any questions about her health, not really worth asking imo
>>5078100
>Tomboy childhood friend is an expert sword polisher
Megalewd

>>5079140
If it wouldn't needlessly shit up and derail the quest, I would pursue Vera instead

> Aplogies all, no update today.

Carinda looked at you for a brief moment, her head sloped and her eyes shut. She was smiling, although that smile wobbled. She turned around a few brief moments later, pulling and then raising the taut reins to set the pace. You waggled your body to a position beside her. She moved further to the side to free enough space for you to be able to sit on the small elevated perch. She was standing.

“Is there something wrong with your hammer?” you said. She tsked. Your master raised the fist holding the pony harness to scratch her lips. You placed both of your hands over your knees, your face facing down. You were only able to look at their wavy manes. “Is it damaged?” Carinda’s face turned gloomy. You gripped your knees. “I am sorry. I had little time to think or act-”

“Julian. You have nothing to apologize for,” she and her voice were strident. “You should be proud. I heard everything from the ‘Representative’. You were trying—no—you -were- protecting me.” Carinda’s body was moving in unison with the bumpy wagon while yours was sliding and shaking from the ragged road. The road kept her focused.

“But isn’t it an important heirloom?” you asked, trying to hold yourself into the seat with your hands that were now sweating-cold.

“It is.”

“Is it damaged?”

Her hesitance was brief. “There’s a small crack, Julian. Nothing I can’t fix.”

You turned to face her. “I am the one who damaged it, I should be the one to repair it.”

She let out a sigh - her breath turning into a cloud of white as soon as it left her crimson lips, “I don’t care about the hammer-”

“I know you do,” your body, especially your lips, trembled from the late-autumn chill. “That hammer is important to you; you told me that yourself.”

“What important to me is that I did not wake up, and put your life in danger. You should have left there when I asked you to, the day before.”

You punched your knees, reserving and pushing most of your emotions and weights into the perch. You exhaled before leaning your head towards her. Your eyes were set on where hers should have been if she wasn’t looking away.

“It’s a good thing I did not listen to you, master Carinda. You were unconscious and defenceless, and that bear was huge.”

“It drank or ruined two of my kegs,” she whispered, her grip curbing the already obeying steeds. "It’s my enemy for life.”

You could not help but chuckle at her declaration. She glared at you; she meant it in full seriousness, so you hid your laughter with your hands. After a deadly glare, her expression relaxed and she let out a tired chuckle to follow up with yours.

You looked away from her unfading eyes. “I am serious too, I’ll come to Vag Ladur to fix the hammer.”

There was a pause. The only sound was the galloping of the horses and the metallic clang of Tetreus’ armour up ahead. Your eyes were looking ahead; you were unable to judge her. The reins were not making a sound.

“You will be busy with other things, Julian,” she said, her voice as loud as ever. “Let’s talk about something else.”

Something else? She did not want you to go with her back home.

“What’s the best way for me to mine the Ecline Ore?” you asked.

Carinda’s eyebrows jumped in surprise as you returned your gaze to her, “Ecline Ore? Is that what you are going to the Quarry for?” She guessed it. She placed her hand over her chin and began to caress her invisible beard. You had to nod more than once because of the wagon’s unaccompanying bouncing.

“I guess your masterpiece is not going to be made out of iron after all. Ecline Ore … Ecline Ore … I am not a miner, Julian, so what I’ll tell you is just subterraneous rain, alright?” Carinda bit her lips. Her head was bobbing in the rhythm of the ride. “What can you even make with Ecline Ore?” She asked, not expecting you to answer.

“You should be able to find it in your ‘human lands’, Julian, but only deep underground. I can’t say if the mines of the Quarry even go that deep, we’ll have to check with the miners.” She snappily blinked, “I have a book that mentions Ecline Ore I brought from home but … I left it in the smithy, curse on all its ancestors.” She leaned to look at the road, “Should we return for it?”

Your head flung left and right, “No, we don’t need to do that.”

Her hand loosened the reins; she was ready to turn the wagon. “Where did you even hear about this ore?”

You swallowed. You fell and hid both of your hands under your rear to stop them from their giving-away wriggle. “I can’t tell you, master Carinda.”

She huffed. Carinda’s pupils were rocking in her eyes like trees in the wind. “You did not use to be so secretive, Julian.”

“There’s a reason for it now,” your voice was heaving with self-imposed reserve.

“I don’t remember much about it either. I would like to help you, but …” she raised both of her shoulders and hands in a shrug, even though it hurt. Her palm open, the reins began to slip. She quickly cached them!

Carinda did not know you could read that book, and that is where you got all your information from …

“Do you think we can first stop in the Russet Swamp?”

The wagon came to an immediate stop—both you -and- Carinda barely avoided falling off the perch face-first into the mud. Carinda’s was breathing heavily, her hand over her chest. She rubbed her wrist against the bottom of her ears; she did not stop until her ears were crimson red and excessively dry. “Can you… repeat that?”

“Can we first stop in the Russet Swamp?” you repeated.

“Why would you need to go there?” She put her hands on her stomach and leaned forward, “ … Julian?”

“There are … other ingredients I need to get first.”

“What sort of ingredients? You know that place is dangerous, everyone, not just Crisscross, avoids it.”

“You were there …”

“Once!” She raised her voice, and then followed with her injured hand. “And was not injured, like I and -you- are now.”

You shifted your weight. “I do not plan to do anything dangerous in there, master Carinda.”

“There are only dangerous things there, Julian. Why do you need to go there?”

> “It’s for my masterpiece. Please, Carinda, I am asking you to trust me…”
> “I did not want to make you worry; let’s focus on our journey to the Quarry.” You will have to find another way to access Russet Swamp later.
> “I need the wood from the Black Horn tree to turn into charcoal to be able to melt the ore, master Carinda. I know that it should be growing in this swamp.”
> “I need the stomach of a swamp-dwelling best to be able to cool and bond the Ecline Ore into metal. I know that it inhabits the Russet Swamp.”
> [Write In]

>>5080878
> “I need the wood from the Black Horn tree to turn into charcoal to be able to melt the ore, master Carinda. I know that it should be growing in this swamp.”
> “I need the stomach of a swamp-dwelling best to be able to cool and bond the Ecline Ore into metal. I know that it inhabits the Russet Swamp.”
No need to be secretive about THAT much. She knows that we are working Ecline, and that these rather exotic means are necessary to do so.

>>5080913
> I'll wait today for one or more votes, I hope you don't mind.

>>5081867
I'm busy celebrating my birthday today, anyway, so no worries.

File: b29d4458a4ff3d71c2de1e13b(...).jpg (55 KB, 564x705)

55 KB JPG

>>5081872
> Happy Birthday!

There was an unlikely possibility Carinda was not aware of what it took to craft a Onestone piece; as your master said before, she was a blacksmith and not a miner. Being a dwarf smith, it is more than likely she worked with many metals in her life, but the ones mentioned in the woody book, perhaps, she was not familiarised with.

You took a deep breath before continuing, “There are two reasons, master.” You fumbled as you stood up, facing your master upright. Respectful. “I need the wood from the Black Horn tree to turn into charcoal to be able to melt the ore, master Carinda. I know that it should be growing in this swamp.”

Carinda followed your words with a tight-lipped, curt nod. She knocked her head back, her ashen hair following the motion and detangling.

“I need the stomach of a swamp-dwelling beast to be able to cool and bond the Ecline Ore into metal. I know that it inhabits the Russet Swamp.” Your intonation stayed firm, but the bigger danger of the second objective was difficult to hide.

“You need a stomach of a beast?” Carinda eyes narrowed suspiciously. She stepped towards you on the narrow high-perch, her heavy body making it tremble. “Do you plan to kill it and dismember its’ abdomen from it, Julian?”

You closed your eyes for a moment to nod. “That is the only way I know to turn the ore into metal, master Carinda."

“And what metal would that be?” she firmly placed her hand on her hip. Her injured hand raised-tried but failed to do the same.

You bit your lower lip, looking away from the waggon into the forest of trees, now almost completely naked of their last-living autumn leaves.

She flung the metal heel of her boot downwards, cursing in words you understood but could never know the meaning of.

“I do not know how you know all of those steps on working with the Ecline Ore, Julian … I am sorry. I know you want it to be a secret from me for clandestine reasons. Your reasons.” She shook her head like a bathed animal and then raised her lips in a big, understanding smile.

She apologised, something she rarely did. With no warning, her injured hand pressed against your stomach, “But I am still not going to let you go just like that. The fact that you -really- need it does not change the fact that you are injured, You’ll have to come up with a plan first.” She tossed a glance towards approaching Tetreus, “And I doubt the knight there will be as understanding as me.”

You rubbed your shivering elbows with your hands. She approved but also—at least for now—assertively denied your request.

“Are you two going to just stand there…?” Tetreus asked, his warhorse, as if galloping in place, struck the path beneath its hooves.

Carinda looked -down- at the man; the waggon’s perch made her twice his height. She put her hand on her stomach. “Just had to free our bladders.”

*** *** ***

Despite all the warm clothes you brought with you, and ones you were already wearing, it was still freezing. The warning words of nature were thus: it was going to be the coldest winter in decades. You wished to spend time with Carinda, but you found yourself switching from the insides of the lukewarm iron chariot and back to the perch where Carinda sat. Veronica was unhappy too, as there was no other work for her to do after well-sharpening the sword. She could not talk to Tetreus: he rejected sharing the saddle of the horse with her. You talked uselessly.

After several hours of travelling, the waggon stopped again.

You opened the door to look outside, Vera’s hands pushed you down to do the same thing, with practically unrivalled excitement and curiosity.

God’s Gallop stood before a plunging river. The onrushing tides beneath the rocky chasm cried, busted, and foamed.

“That’s not something you see every day,” you heard Carinda whistle. She turned around to pick up her crutch.

Vera pushed and left the waggon before you, scurrying to the river. You followed your friend to where Tetreus was standing. You realised that the problem was not the lack of a bridge—there was one, and a wide-sturdy one at that—but the fact that an enormous wooden tree was growing like a potted plant on top of it. The trunks were raised above the wooden platforms and its gnarled immovable roots entangled around the handrails. The roots of the large serpentine tree grasped beneath the bridge and fell further into the waves, their edges and end twisting like hungry eels in the water.

Vera squeezed her hands, her eyes sparkling with delight, “We are only a few hours away from Crisscross and we already discovered something unnatural and… awesome!”

Carinda and especially Tetreus did not share even half Veronica’s enthusiasm.

You approached the beginning of the bridge, the amalgamation of trees you knew towered before you. It was not an apple tree, it was not oak.

The sounds of the unbridled and noisy rivers made it sound as if somebody—a crowd—was engaged in a dispute.

Tetreus lead his horse inched away from the edge. God Gallop obeyed the lead, there was no hesitance in its gait. “Let’s turn around, there is no way we are going cross it now. Perhaps it’ll willow and die in the winter, but I am not going to wait that long for it.” There was barely-present hoarfrost covering his armour. “Jybean, make something else.”

Carinda jumped off the waggon—she ignored her injuries but the pain was still visible on her face. Carinda pondered out loud, “The last time I travelled through this spot,” she nodded gently, “without you, the bridge was vacant and void of any … foliage.” She rubbed her chin, “Something like this can only be a work of an elf, but I should be the only ‘appointed’ in the lands and districts for weeks of travelling I should be the only non-human in those lands.” She looked at Tetreus and he nodded his head.

“It will take a bit longer, but there should be another way across, let me check the maps,” your master said.

“Do you have an axe, Carinda?” Vera pointed her hand at the tree, “we can get rid of it by just cutting the roots.”

> You were not in a rush—those were your last days to spend with your master—and you still had supplies galore. Taking a detour, however, could be a bad idea regardless. This was the most often travelled path, you, and likely Carinda knew nothing about another route. It might take time, but Veronica’s plan makes sense. Ask for an axe; Carinda packed one or more.
> You don’t want to deal with anything elven. Tetreus is correct and the tree will likely die on its own when the winter—especially with how cold it will likely be—arrives. Travel is rare during winter times, so this should not be a problem for other merchants-travellers. Agree with your master and return to the waggon to take a different route to the Quarry.
> Something is not right about this tree—you have a feeling. Carefully approach the beginning of the bridge and investigate the trunk, the roots and the branches with your hands. Carinda said it’s elven, then… is magic involved?
> Agree with Tet- no chance! You are not giving up because of some stupid tree!
> [Write In]

>>5082758
>Something is not right about this tree—you have a feeling. Carefully approach the beginning of the bridge and investigate the trunk, the roots and the branches with your hands. Carinda said it’s elven, then… is magic involved?

>>5082758
>> Something is not right about this tree—you have a feeling. Carefully approach the beginning of the bridge and investigate the trunk, the roots and the branches with your hands. Carinda said it’s elven, then… is magic involved?

>>5082758

>Ask for an axe. Chop it down.

>>5082758
>Something is not right about this tree—you have a feeling. Carefully approach the beginning of the bridge and investigate the trunk, the roots and the branches with your hands. Carinda said it’s elven, then… is magic involved?

File: A tree began to speak....jpg (1.97 MB, 3831x2557)

1.97 MB JPG

Exactly as Carinda said and Tetreus implied, there shouldn't have been any elves around. Something was not right about this tree—but you could not describe your exact suspicions. You checked back: Vera and Carinda were deliberating about the possibility, and effectiveness, of cutting the tree down.

You put your foot down on the first board; the bridge was sturdy and wide; masterfully constructed by a first-rate woodworker. There was no need for you to do so, but you grabbed one of the handrails regardless.

You approached the middle of the bridge, eyeballing the perplexing tree: its brown-as-caramel trunk, the entwined roots, and its spartan branches. You could not -feel- or -sense- any magic; did magic even work that way? Were you just paranoid? You raised your uninjured hand to gently put it on top of the trunk that was now fully hiding the opposite side of the river. Your fingers scratched the fibrous husk, searching for the uncanny. Nothing. You rubbed behind your neck, turning to face the others.

Veronica and Carinda stood in sudden silence, your master even more so. Speechless and open-mouthed, their widened eyes stared at you; no, above you. “Julian, look out!” Carinda’s hand grasped the crunch and leaned on the trembling metal as if she was preparing to leap and run.

God’s Gallop, tame and unwavering all the time and way until now, stood up on his hind legs and whined. The coarse bark beneath your palm bloated, bulged, twisted, and changed. In cold sweat you put your hand away, swaying and turning your body to stand facing the tree. Tetreus calmed the warhorse with a demand—a pull of his reins. He intuitively reached for the loaded crossbow with his other hand.

The raising branches, flourish towards the sky, angrily jerked and quivered despite the windless weather. By sorcery, the deep layer of bark began to morph, much like the raging river below. Several rolling hollows appeared and vanished before the shape-shifting came to a halt.

“Who steps there?” a shrivelling voice, dry and crunching with every word, shed from within the shallow cavities.

> Fall back from the bridge and the tree as fast as possible.
> “Don’t shoot!” yell at Tetreus. Shield the tree(?) with your raised arm.
> Motion for Vera to throw you an axe you noticed her holding. You will need a weapon…
> Remain standing still - even slow down your breath. “We want to pass across.”
> [Write In]

>>5083893
>Gesture for Tetreus to hold his fire
>Reflect on what we know of elves
>Remain calm, and still, and explain that we wish to pass across the bridge

>>5083893
>Remain standing still - even slow down your breath. “We want to pass across.”
Though we should also introduce ourselves it did ask "who"

You raised your arm and then arched your shoulder to shield the mouthing tree from the pointed crossbow.

You did not look back, not daring to move your gaze from the restlessly reforming bark. You took a deep breath to reserve yourself, clutching your fist and eyebrows. There was no need to act recklessly: the tree was not hostile, yet. Were all elves trees? Was it elven magic? You knew nothing about the elven folk.

You rasped into your closed hand before focusing your eyes on the mouth-hollows. It shook. “We want to pass across,” you said.

“Who steps there?” it rasped. There was no wind, but its tall branches whistled as if bending around it. Before you could repeat or think of another answer, is continued. “I will not let my fellow be abused and her remains mistreated anymore.” Its front roots rose like waves, gliding above the bridge and pushing you off its steps. You stumbled and fell, the roots not pursuing you further. They veered sternwards: back to their spot.

“Julian!” your master staggered to fall-kneel near. She lifted her crunch to point it—like a weapon—towards the naked evergreen.

You heard the iron grasp the tiller and the trigger, Tetreus preparing his shot.

“Don’t shoot!” you yelled, startling Carinda and disappointing the man-at-arms.

Brasswing lowered the crossbow. He steered God’s Gallop in a semi-circle. You sighed in relief. The tree was motionless with any words or actions. “Is this something elves are famous for?” you asked.

Carinda shook her head. She waggled her crunch like a spear—made by dwarven hands. Knowing the dwarves, it might be as effective as one.

“I know about elves as much as you do,” Carinda confessed. She attempted to pick you up; for a duo of invalids, it was a hard task.

The warhorse struck the ground in powerful-melodic rhythm. Tetreus’ voice rang out, deafened by his iron helm, “I heard stories about some tree, bushes, flowers and even saplings speaking in human tongue, and moving like human-races, in the elven lands.” He bounced the crossbow on his knee, not trusting enough of this particular tree to let go of it. “Not only evergreen, but they also say animals, rocks, insects, everything can become—or is—sentient in the lands of the elves.” He pulled God’s Gallop to stand before the bridge, his blue eyes glaring emptily at the tree.

Veronika—this time holding an axe—sneaked up to assist you and your dwarven master. You tried to thank her but her attention was elsewhere. Her ears trembled, listening to every word the knight said. Her olive eyes buried holes in the tree. Her mouth was wide open with exhilaration.

Carinda harrumphed, “I don't know how much of that is true.”

“Are you from the lands of the elves?” Tetreus let go of the reins and raised his broadsword to point it with an imperative directive; demand.

A wooden voice echoed, “I will not let my fellow be abused and his remains mistreated anymore. No... Those lands are my home.”

“Could it be that an elf sneaked up into the human kingdom?” Vera asked.

“It would be unlawful,” Tetreus answered, lowering his sword, “Only merchants, ambassadors and the appointed are allowed to enter.”

“Could be a work of a merchant?” Vera continued her deduction.

“The merchants are only allowed to enter lord-towns. The closest one is ten days of travel away.” He paused, “Yes, ten days on foot.”

You faced the tree. “My name is Julian.”

“No... Those lands are my home.” The roots crept to cover more of the bridge. “What manner of creature is ‘Julian?’”

“I am a human.”

“What manner of creature is ‘Julian?’ A human?"

“Do you have a name?” Vera asked her question.

“A human? I am one of the black bristleleafs.”

Was that a kind of a tree?

Your master lowered her head and narrowed her eyes, pondering.

> “It will be Winter soon. If you do not return your roots to the ground solid-hard ground, you’ll wither and die.”
> “I do not think the bridge was made out of a tree as sentient as you. But it is dead now.”
> “Were you always sentient? Can you remember what happened to make you be able to talk?”
> You need to reach the Quarry. This is too much hassle. Ask Carinda and Tetreus if a detour is a better alternative to take.
> [Write In]

>>5085140
>“I do not think the bridge was made out of a tree as sentient as you. But it is dead now.”
“It will be Winter soon. If you do not return your roots to the ground solid-hard ground, you’ll wither and die.”

>>5085140
> “It will be Winter soon. If you do not return your roots to the ground solid-hard ground, you’ll wither and die.”

>>5085140
> “I do not think the bridge was made out of a tree as sentient as you. But it is dead now.”
Fucking elves I swear. It's probably going to start spouting some leafloving BS about the wood still being alive, we can probably learn something from it's ramblings. Hopefully how to kill it.

> Hey all, sorry no update today. Thank you for playing and participating.

>>5086277
> Elves will be elves.

“I do not think the bridge was made out of the tree as sentient as you,” you raised your arms from the shoulders of your friend and your master. Carinda, still pondering, attempted to feebly grab your hand to hold you. “But it is dead now, black brittle leaf.”

“I am one of the black bristleleafs,” the hollows twisted first before the entire trunk bent to overshadow you. “My fellow is dead. You, the humankind, used his remains in a mockery to flesh shape him into a corpse your horses now ride upon; your feet step upon.”

“It was unlikely he had the same emotions and feelings as you do,” you said, blunt and honest.

The snake-skin-like blackened bark began to rattle. Everyone but Tetreus drew back from the growing-obvious hostility. Had you angered it?

“You, the humankind, used his corpse in a mockery to flesh shape him into a corpse your horses now ride upon; your feet step upon. His thoughts were dormant, his spirit maturing and growing with the white and black rings. He did not step or talk, but he was alive.”

You cringed. You glanced at your master: she was in a strange, ponderous-arduous mood. “Master Carinda?”

“Huh?” She led her hand from her chin to her neck and then over her ashen hair, “Sorry, Julian.”
“Is something wrong?”

“Aside from us not being able to cross the bridge?” her brief smile withered. “He is right, he must be from those lands. I have seen trees similar to him… somewhere, I can’t recall where.” Her eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t trust -it-, but I sure can trust my memory.”

You nodded, “You have a good memory, master.” You wanted to start complimenting her and never stop.

“Where are you from?” Vera asked.

A clutch of the tree’s branches rose up and then shuffled towards a specific direction. It remained silent as it did so.

Veronica narrowed one of her eyes, looking in the direction pointed. “Does that place have a name?”

“Are you from the Russet Swamp?” Carinda already knew the answer.

“He did not step or talk, but he was alive. I am from ‘there’.” The black bristleleaf whispered.

Veronica's cheeks grew before she slapped them both to deflate. “They must not have names for the places like we do,” she said. She pointed the axe towards the tree—ignorant or uncaring of the sheer stupidity of such act. “Are there any other living trees like you from where you are from?”

“I am from ‘there’. All trees are living.” It was unbothered about the axe.

You sighed, “She meant trees that can move and speak.”

The tree stood in windless psithurism, the hollows unhurried to answer. “All trees are living. I am the only one … ”

“Just our luck,” Tetreus said dryly. He spat without spit; it would be ridiculous for him to forget he was wearing a helmet. He turned to look at you and the maidens, “So what are we going to do now? The sun is not going to wait for us if we take a different route.”

“It would be nice if we could convince it to let us across,” Carinda said, “but I don’t know if we can settle this peacefully.”

“It will be winter soon. If you do not return your roots to the ground solid-hard ground, you’ll wither and die.”

“I am the only one … ” the wriggle of the branches and roots was never-ending, untangling and entangling the bridge in a similar-to-a-hug way. “I survived hundreds of winters, Julian human. I will not leave this place and leave my fellow unprotected.”

It was an obvious lie unless it was one the black bristleleaf was ignorant towards. True, the leafy trees all over the land were dropping their leaves to prepare for the winter, but none were as naked as the tree before you. Black bristleleaf lost his days—if not weeks— ago. The river was sure to become frozen in a few weeks, leaving it without any source of moisture. Bristleleaf would die.

“There are fewer travellers and merchants during this season, but by the time they resume you’ll be dead, and easy to topple.”

“I will not leave this place and leave my fellow's grave to be abused.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Vera saddened. She was still pointing the axe. “You are the only ‘alive’ tree in human lands, take some responsibility, -you-!” She failed to get a reaction. She huffed and sighed, “This tree peeves me as much as you, Julian.”

“What do you want -me- to do?” You pointed towards the bridge, “Why don’t you just pick up the bridge—your friend— and take it with you?”
“ … It is not something I can do,” its voice cracked and rustled, “I can’t pick my fellow up, and I do not want to damage him.”

“What if we helped you, in exchange for you letting us across?” Vera shook her head, the chill made her strands spiky-sharp.

Carinda put her foot down, “That bridge is useful, Veronica, and how are we supposed to get back if we get rid of it?”

Tetreus watched in silence. God’s Gallop continued to move and shake and strike the ground to keep himself warm and busy.

“We can take the detour route back,” Vera slapped both of her palms together, “Please Carinda, I don’t want this thing to die.”

It did not say yes yet. You turned towards the tree. “Are you going to let us pass if we help you with your fellow’s corpse?”

“I can’t pick my fellow up, and I do not want to damage him. I would … consider it.”

> That will take too much time. “You can just dieback. Good luck surviving the winter.” Take the detour.
> Convince Carinda and Tetreus that with you four working together it’ll take little time. Agree to move the “bridge-corpse.”
> “As I said, there will be little travel during winter times—perhaps just us. Can you make an exception?”
> [Write In]

>>5087580
>That will take too much time
Don't be roo harsh to the tree, or to Vera... But we shouldn't move the bridge at this tree's whim. MANY things in human lands are made from plants. What will we do if we next find it grappling with a carriage, or a house, or a man in cotton breeches?

>>5087580
>That will take too much time. “You can just dieback. Good luck surviving the winter.” Take the detour.

>>5087580
> That will take too much time. “You can just dieback. Good luck surviving the winter.” Take the detour.
As >>5087629 says, just because this tree can't bow dosn't mean we should.
Suppose we could try and trick it into letting us cross, take the detour on the way back and warn people to avoid the pompus tree until winter kills it

>Suppose we could try and trick it into letting us cross, take the detour on the way back and warn people to avoid the pompus tree until winter kills it

Do you guys want to do this instead of a detour?

>>5088686
Nah, just take the detour. Not helping it survive and hoping for its death feel different. I would, however, like to warn people to avoid this bridge for now.

File: Beneath a flatiron....png (860 KB, 900x600)

860 KB PNG

That would take too much time. Your breath harshened. Your teeth clenched to stop any words of affront from being said. You turned towards Carinda, your head motioning towards the waggon. “Let’s take the detour instead. This is too much hassle,” you said, loud enough for your companions to hear. “Who knows how long it’ll take for us to remove the bridge.”

Your master nodded. She side-glanced the talking tree, “And who knows if we can even trust what this log says?”

"I hate to admit, Julian." Vera was not convinced. “ … but you are right—hard for me to say!— if it stays like this, it is going to decay and die.”

“Nothing we can do about that,” you callously shrugged your shoulders.

“Julian is right,” Carinda said, she was even quicker than you to stand up, “I hope to return you two back home before the cold hits.”

Veronica frowned. Her mouth opened and closed without muttering a word. She stood up, her eyes widening once she realised that all through the talk she had the axe.

Clumsily, she placed-shoved it between your chest and arm. She put her hands together in a plea, approaching the beginning of the bridge, “You -really- need to leave, black bristleleaf.”

The sentient evergreen stood unconcerned. The shallow hollows in the charcoal bark, the mouths from which it spoke, drifted and slithered like a collapsing waterfall. Trembling motion of its trunk, branches, and roots, came to a stop.

Vera grizzled: her fists flailed in the air as if beating the invisible source of her frustration. “You dumb half-witted tree... gah!”

“Are you going to detour or just carry on standing here?” Tetreus asked.

“Once it begins to freeze into an iceberg it’ll leave,” Carinda approached Veronica. “It should recognise the predicament, Veronica, do not worry.”

Vera’s body was shuddering. She raised her head to look one more time at the magical tree before turning around from it and nodding.

*** *** ***

Your groups continued your travel across the lowlands, meadows, and foresty hills until the fluky sun no longer accompanied your waggon. You made camp beneath one of the flatirons: large tusk-like peaks of eroded sandstone “growing” from the heart of the rolling knobs laid between the infrequent bushes and broken copses.

You and Vera gathered the wood; Carinda was quick to make a fire.

“We’ll need to stand watch,” the unhelpful knight stepped off his saddle onto solid ground. “ … I can stay half a night alone. Yes, let us do that.”

“It’s not safe to leave the two youngsters on their own,” Carinda appeared from the waggon holding a set of warm sleeping bags.

“Are you going to say we need to separate into two pairs?” Tetreus peered around the exposed lands.

“Wait-wait-wait!” Vera exhaled with a whistling voice. “I have so many things I want to ask you, King Representative. I'll be in your custody.”

“I’d rather enjoy the silence. I already have a companion for the night,” he pushed God’s Gallop muzzle to his neck.

Veronica did not take the rejection. She picked up a cotton cloth. She loudly swallowed and spat out just as loudly. She approached Tetreus and began to grate the damp cloth against his shoulder plate, “Your armour -needs- cleaning.”

The man-at-arms waited for way-pass-Vera's point to see the result. He raised his arm to make Veronica stop. His voice rang like iron—with empty emotion, “I won’t answer much of your questions, but you can join me to do the cleaning and polishing.”

Your friend choked down her squeal, squeezing the cloth. She nodded, excited at the prospect of… cleaning the man at arm's armour. What a very different reaction it was compared to work-and-home related requests back at the workshop.

“Use water instead of your spit,” Tetreus added.

There was a single problem. Carinda obviously realised it. “We will do the first four hours,” she said, leaving the waggon with a much smaller keg of alcohol under her armpit. She waved the hand to Tetreus, “You go and sleep soundly.”

The man’s stare was focused on the keg. He passed by your master, placing his heavy gauntlet on top of the cask. “I will be -sleeping- if another wild animal attacks you during -your- shift,” he boomed, looking directly in her eyes.

Your master pulled the keg away without much struggle. “I and Julian could use a bearskin when it will be your shift, King's Representative.”

“I have my hands full, Julian,” Carinda said once Tetreus and Veronica left to sleep by the fire, “Let’s watch by the waggon and patrol once in a while; rare while. Can you bring me my bag from the waggon?” She paused, “And some mugs, of course.”

You nodded. Climbing inside, you took the mugs and reached for the bag, only to stop. A letter was poking from the enclosed leather covers. The visible words were dwarven. It was—likely to be—the letter Carinda was sent a month ago, the only letter she ever got.

You paused, your hands trembling. She was holding onto it?

> Take the letter into your hands and quickly browse through. You knew a -little- of the dwarven language.
> Push the letter deeper into the bag and take it with you to Carinda.

Once you and Carinda are alone on patrol …

> Ask Carinda about the letter.
> Ask Carinda why she thinks she’ll never be able to visit Crisscross once she leaves.
> Ask Carinda what she thinks about Tetreus. Has she met him before?
> Ask Carinda how she is feeling; if her wounds hurting or not?
> Ask Carinda if she can help you to come up with a plan to hunt the beast of the Russet Swamp.
> Ask Carinda what the King has promised her and her “dwarven kingdom” in exchange for the tutorship.
> Admit to Carinda you are working on a masterpiece per the dwarven-blueprint book in the smithy.
> [Write In]

> Please don’t pick many topics ;_;

>>5089024
> Take the letter into your hands and quickly browse through. You knew a -little- of the dwarven language.

> Ask Carinda why she thinks she’ll never be able to visit Crisscross once she leaves.
> Ask Carinda how she is feeling; if her wounds hurting or not?

And IF she feels up to it and seems like she'd be open...

> Ask Carinda if she can help you to come up with a plan to hunt the beast of the Russet Swamp.

>>5089024
>Push the letter deeper into the bag and take it with you to Carinda.

>Ask Carinda why she thinks she’ll never be able to visit Crisscross once she leaves.
> Ask Carinda how she is feeling; if her wounds hurting or not?
> Ask Carinda if she can help you to come up with a plan to hunt the beast of the Russet Swamp.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5089617
>>5089671

1. > Take the letter into your hands and quickly browse through. You knew a -little- of the dwarven language.

2. >Push the letter deeper into the bag and take it with you to Carinda.

You glanced at the side, making sure no one but you was here. You took the letter, the material ragged and wooden (the unique texture of the dwarven paper), into your hands, unfolding it underneath the lantern’s candlelight. You lead your fingers against the black-as-fresh ink, inspecting the alphabetical characters. Many were hard to decipher, and much of the paper was empty and caramel-plain; only a short message present.

You lead your fingers against your forehead, scrunching your skin as you tried to dredge up your memories. The way you translated the passages in the encyclopedic tome was through a travelling merchant; a merchant with in-depth knowledge on how to understand, speak, read and write the language of the dwarfs. You showed him the passages, and you wrote down the words in your notebook. The dwarven language was ancient.

You recognised Carinda’s name on the very top as well as her surname “Pristineiron”; obviously, it was intended for her. From who, you could not determine. It was sent from Vag Ladur, her home. The words of the sentence you translated were thus:

[i]To Carinda ****** Pristineiron,
Seven months ****** ****** ****** ****** moved ****** the ****** ****** the human king. ****** ****** ****** of human king’s promise ****** Vag Ladur, and ****** ****** to ******. I am ****** aware of your ****** to ****** your progress, you ****** ****** ****** to find ****** ****** ****** the ****** be delivered ****** the dwarven lands. ******, ****** your promise:
****** you receive ****** ******, return ****** ****** Vag Ladur, ****** of the results. ****** ****** deal ****** his ******.
From ****** ****** ******; Vag Ladur.[/i]

*** *** ***

“Julian, here!” Carinda called to you from the dark. She had already made a second campfire just for you two.

You hung her the bag, and then a single mug. She opened the leather bag, removing a pair of mellow soap-like rocks. She squeezed one between her fingers and placed it in her mouth. She raised her hand as if apologising for making you wait. She chewed it for a few seconds before spitting it over the grass, somewhat disgusted. Confused, you silently waited. “Don’t worry, I am not going to make you drink again, Julian,” she grinned, her teeth now whitened like fresh milk. She cleaned her lips, “I’d give you one, but I’d rather not waste it.”

“I’ve seen you eat -that- a few times before” —you did— “what is that, exactly?”

“Well you don’t drink enough to know,” she faked her disappointment, “Those are malic pebbles. They make the alcohol taste even better; as impossible as that sounds. It takes longer to appreciate every gulp, so it helps … when you don’t have a lot of it.” She smirked, pulling the keg’s lid open. She dipped the mug into the fragrant ale.

“They also make your teeth white,” you noted.

Her smile widened, “If you care about that, Julian,” she winked. She bopped her head to swing. You decided against enquiring your master about the letter, and her more-personal matters.

“How are you feeling?” you asked. Your rear pushed against the ground to move just a bit closer to her. “Are your wounds hurting?”

“A bit,” she paused, “a -tiny- bit.” She waved her cast. “Nothing to worry about, it’s more uncomfortable than painful.”

She was now looking at your wound. You answered with no hesitation, “Likewise, and I think mine will heal faster than yours’”

“And how do you know that?”

You pointed towards the keg, “Eryn said that alcohol can slow down the healing process-”

She grumped half-assedly, “Ridiculous. I appreciate the advice, but what does she know? Dwarven ale is like a healing potion.”

“Do those exist?”

“Not where I’m from,” her voice rolled happily. “We don’t need that sort of thing when we have this.” She chuckled.

“Where you are from. Master, why do you think you’ll never be able to visit Crisscross once you leave?”

Her raised mug stopped inches from pouring the ale down her throat … or not, she finished the lurch to gulp it down.

She fell back, leaning on the waggon, “You heard what the knight-guy said, Julian. Merchants and ambassadors only, I won’t be an appointee once you finish your ‘trial’.” She looked at the mug, swaying its handle on her fingertips.

“Is travelling -that- strict between our races?” you wondered out loud.

“I am not sure how much I am allowed to say,” your master bit her lip. “Tsk, I doubt it’s a state secret. I don’t know about elves or others, but we, the dwarfs, kept to ourselves until the humans found us, rudely. They were in our lands, and the first meeting was right in front of the gates of one of our cities. Some say they managed to enter -inside- until they were spotted, but I doubt that. As one would expect, they were cast away just as rudely.” She paused. “They must’ve been trying to see how far they could expand their rule, too bad. Those lands were and are of the dwarfs.”

“So how did it go from that incident to you coming here to teach me?”

“Well, our two kinds are allies now—more or less—and a dwarf can appreciate a beneficial trade. Humans are a newborn race, and the dwarfs had thousands of years to evolve and endlessly perfect out crafts. So ... that’s why I’m here.”

She stood up from the ground, yawning and stretching. “Let’s take a look if there are any wild animals hunting … ”

> Ask Carinda if the dwarfs accept any humans in the lands aside from ambassadors.
> Ask Carinda if she can give you a malic pebble so that you can appreciate her homemade ale fully.
> Ask Carinda if she wants to stay behind and leave the overlook to you. It’ll be hard for her to run away with a crutch.
> Ask Carinda if she can help you to come up with a plan to hunt the beast of the Russet Swamp.
> Ask Carinda about the letter.
> Ask Carinda what the King has promised her and her “dwarven kingdom” in exchange for the tutorship.
> Admit to Carinda you are working on a masterpiece per the dwarven-blueprint book in the smithy.
> [Write In]

>>5090524
> Ask Carinda if the dwarfs accept any humans in the lands aside from ambassadors.
> Ask Carinda if she can give you a malic pebble so that you can appreciate her homemade ale fully.

Once we've both had a drink to loosen up:

> Ask Carinda if she can help you to come up with a plan to hunt the beast of the Russet Swamp.

>>5078096

“Hey-!” she reached to grab it, but you shoved your hand into her face before she could do anything.

“Don’t grab a naked blade, stupid,” you said, intending full-well to scold her. You turned the sword to inspect it to your best blacksmith-like abilities. Unbelievable. When Tetreus hanged you the sword it was, as Vera noted, perfect. Veronica had managed to sharpen it even further. “How… how are you so good at it?”

“Did I do a good job?” she asked.

“Is this -really- your first time doing this?”

She scratched her face, “Of course it is, when would I get the chance to sharpen a sword in Crisscross?”

You frowned, your fingers caressing the edge. Damn it, it took you years to master; you did not want to compliment her ...

Her smile spread and raised, “So …?”

You placed the sword back on top of the bench, avoiding any eye contact with your childhood friend. You let out a sigh, “Tetreus will be happy—if that’s what you want to hear. You are a born natural at sharpening swords."

She grinned, standing up from the floor and hitting her knees. Veronica was taller than you, not by much, so she had to bend her head to look like a melting snowman. “If I had to name why that is I would say that… I had a great teacher,” she mocked.

“The greatest,” you rolled your eyes. You opened the iron hatch to let out the frigid air inside. There were benefits and drawbacks to this wagon being constructed largely out of iron and not wood; the biggest drawbacks were the finger-biting surfaces.

You climbed out of the casket and onto the seat of the rider, where your dwarven master was leading her ponies. Languorous, she did not realize you were there straight away. She was holding her hammer; she hid it once she saw you. “Julian,” she acknowledged your presence.

> For some reason this post was deleted.
> I keep the logs but not the prompts; sorry.

>>5090524
>Ask Carinda if the dwarfs accept any humans in the lands aside from ambassadors.

>>5090520
> Ask Carinda if the dwarfs accept any humans in the lands aside from ambassadors.
> Ask Carinda if she can give you a malic pebble so that you can appreciate her homemade ale fully.
While I want to know more about the world and its politics, this dosn't seem like the right time to ask her about it. Seems like we should approach the subject of what she was promised though

You picked yourself off the ground, joining your master on her patrol; she took the keg with her, so you were the one carrying the lamp. The night was clean and fresh. The white clouds that were present were neither big nor thick enough to block the near-full moon or the sparkling stars. You two circled the wrought waggon, then the ground neighbouring it.

You moved to the campfire where Tetreus and Veronica rested. The snort of the wakeful warhorse spooked you, the deep black eyes reflecting the fire of your half-melted candle. God’s Gallop loudly struck its hooves.

You approached the campfire, tossing the necessary firewood into the pit. A loud crack shattered the kindling, a cloud of ambers raising. Predictably, the man-at-arms was sleeping in his armour, laying still on a woollen throw placed on top of the grass. The helm tarnished his breath into a ghastly ring. Veronica was sleeping just as peacefully nearby, tucked into her sleeping bag with only her head and her unruly-bushy hair poking out of it. There was no way she would be able to hide it inside of it.

“It does not seem like there’s anything to worry about here,” Carinda said with a smile, quieting her voice just a tad.

You nodded, turning your eyes away from the fire and towards your master, “Master Carinda … “ Your gaze fell on her bag.

“Yes, Julian?” she bowed her body to pour the ale directly into her mug. She looked at you at the same time—multitasking.

“Do the dwarfs accept any humans in their lands aside from ambassadors?”

She scratched the back of her neck with the bottom of the mug, droplets of ale drenching her braids, “Julian … no, I don’t think so, even with the human merchants my people meet up and trade at the Odyl Border, the border between our lands, those who sneak up are dealt with by dwarven justice your King does not interfere with. I’ll be frank, there are not many things humans can offer us, and to a dwarf, those lands are more than our property or history.” She squatted to the ground with a short struggle, touching the ground and clutching the grass. “It’s hard to explain so I will not even bother.”

“I see,” you said, unable to hide your downer.

She stumbled to stand up from her squat. You approached to offer your master a hand—her grip was strong—painful.

“It’s like that -now-,” she nodded in gratitude, taking another, praisingly small, sip. “It can always change in the future as -that- incident oldens.” She sighed, “I’ll ask, Julian, if your visit can be arranged—but it’s bigger than us.”

You nodded. She mentioned the Odyl Border, a dividing line; if everything else fails you can meet her there. You placed the lantern on the ground and forwarded your open palm. “Can I have some of that pebble you mentioned?” Her eyes narrowed. “Your ale is already delicious enough, but I would like to appreciate it in full.”

With a grin, she placed the pebble in your hands. You put it in your mouth, grinding it briefly in-between your teeth and then chewing the rest. The texture was gooey and slimy, and the taste was a mix of sap, soot, and soap. Before you could vomit and embarrass yourself further, you spat it out. You continued to spit but the taste lingered.

Your master looked at you with amusement. She was already holding a prepared-full mug to offer it to you right away.

You took the mug, a bitter taste sharpening your tongue like melting wax. You put it to your lips and began to drink … Suddenly, your lungs felt hot as if lit on fire. It was night, but everything was vivid—every taste, smell, sound, and colour. The world began to turn better, the cold was stingy and coarse, but the “discomfort” was pleasant. A bouquet of full-bodied aromas of freshly cut—as if during a sunshower—malt tickled your nose.

The taste began to assume a sweet-cotton shape, blooming in your mouth. Honey, lemon, herbs, winter spices, pine, butter—you could feel every note of the ale. You were rotating the ale between your cheeks, unable to gulp it down until Carinda put her hand to force you to do so. You gasped for air, your eyes wide opened. Your master scratched her eyebrow, looking at you with uncertainty.

“That was careless of me,” she reached for the mug, “Humans -can- handle it but you are probably still too young.”

You watched your master, your cheeks burning up and your lips lacking dew. She was so beautiful. “I love you-”

You grasped the mug before she could take it from you. You shouted, “I love your ale!” You took another big swing.

An amalgam of taste, smell, texture, and now your boiling-to-come-out emotions, earthquaked through your body.

“Damn it, Julian,” you woke up from the heavenly stasis with Carinda slapping your forehead. “Julian, can you hear me?”

“I-I can hear you, master Carinda,” you said. You tried your best to remain self-possessed. Everything felt heart-stopping, amazing, awe-inspiring.

“Thank the ancestors,” she said, slapping the mug from your hands. Carinda’s lips were pursed and her eyes were shimmering like the stars.

“I am sorry for making you worry, master Carinda,” you said, your body shivering. You struggled to stop looking at her with a hungry-obsessive glare. “You-r ale was fantastic.” You looked at the fallen-toppled mug, “I uh am sorry for making you waste it.”

“Oh, that?” she said, straightened her back, “I acted in haste, don’t worry about it. There should be some water in the waggon.”

“No, I think I’ll be fine,” you said. You felt thirsty, but not for water. Damn it, why was it so hard to control yourself after -two- sips?! Your reddened skin—inflicted by Carinda’s strong maternal slaps— felt painless, even sensuous.

> Step forward and tightly hug your master. Tell her how much you appreciate her and her tutorship, and how much you’ll miss her.
> Lean forward to softly massage Carinda’s face and hair with your hand. “You have such a beautiful face, master Carinda ... ”
> Maybe you need a moment to calm your heart and pacify your emotions and let the effects of the pebble finish. Go for water.
> [Write In]

> Ask Carinda if she can help you to come up with a plan to hunt the beast of the Russet Swamp.
> This choice is still on the back-burner.

>>5091318
> Step forward and tightly hug your master. Tell her how much you appreciate her and her tutorship, and how much you’ll miss her.
> Ask Carinda if she can help you to come up with a plan to hunt the beast of the Russet Swamp.

>>5091318
>Step forward and tightly hug your master. Tell her how much you appreciate her and her tutorship, and how much you’ll miss her.

You stepped forward, raising your uninjured arm to hood your master, tucking your injured over her torso. You hugged her.

“Master Carinda,” you swallowed, holding her in an embrace—as tight as you had never have done before. Her body was as soft as a pillow of feathers, and her mulled locks and braids had a smell, a pleasant smell(!), of ash and sulphur; a dwarven smell. Her pale-bronze skin reflected the ambers of the campfire and the far-distant stars. While her shine was incredibly mild tonight—during the heat of the summer she was not much unlike a bronze-silver statue—the influence of the pebble lured you like a moth of a flame.

“Julian?” you heard her ask after your compromising pause and an unfinished sentence. She was surprised, but not angry.

“Master Carinda,” you tightened the hug to press your and her chest together. , “I have never said it before” —you have never said it— “I appreciate, I really do, your tutorship … and you, and everything you did for me, and Crisscross” Your confession wobbled in rhythm with the wet grass bowing to the wind beneath your feet. You faced away from your master. She lifted her hand to tap and then gently caress your shoulder.

Her right hand slid onto your head and through your hair, in a patting motion. “I had no apprentices before you, Julian, but even by dwarf standards, you’ve done well those past years. -Very- well, and I am not going to repeat it.” You heard her smirk. She grabbed your hair tighter than necessary. “You did a lot of mistakes too, don’t forget those,” her fist loosened, “but I am confident about your masterpiece, my apprentice.”

It was cold, but you felt nothing but warmth, not the campfire’s, but hers. She broke the hug, despite your awkward attempt to prolong it. With stiff grip she pushed you away, leaving her hand on your shoulder. You were the same height as her, face-to-face.

“You should warn me next time you do something like that,” she said, shaking her head, “I thought you were going unconscious.”

Your face felt hot, yet you felt calm. “I won’t hug you without warning like that again, Carinda.” What did you say?

Carinda blinked, her eyes bewaring. “I am not the ‘hugging’ type,” she forced a smile. You heard a noise of shatter, but there was nothing that could break. No, the silent air around, it was now as fragile as glass.

The end of her crutch hit the side of your boots, pulling you out of your stupor. She drew a line. “Julian, it’s just not a dwarven custom, alright?”

You returned the weak smile. Then, you saw a menacing black figure behind her. You grabbed your master but instead, she pulled you behind her—she was much stronger, than her body much heavier, after all. You realised that the figure was Tetreus. Standing upright like a monster of tales—living armour—a crisp white breath left his visors. He shrugged, his entire body echoing with a metallic clang.

“Are you going to stop talking?” he said, stepping to separate you and pick up his scabbard. He slowly turned around, glancing at Veronica who was still asleep. He stared down Carinda, “I am taking it from here. Go, and rest. Sleep.”

Carinda put her hand over her hips, “There are still hours of our patrol left, knight. We would not want you to fall off your horse from lack of sleep.”

He removed an inch of the sword from the scabbard, only to loudly push it back inside. “You were not patrolling, dwarf-smith.”

“We looked through everywhere else, this was the final spot,” she raised her chin impossibly high to look directly at the man.

“Even if that's true… it does not matter,” the man-at-arms said. “You are supposed to be his master, not his friend.” He did not even look at you.

“I don’t remember that part in the agreement,” she said, raising her shoulder and crossing her arms, “are you going to tell your king that we are friends? He will be happy to hear that our two races get along; that’s what he wants-”

“What he wants is for you to train him the secrets of the dwarven arts, to be a blacksmith,” his gauntlets clanged, "have you taught him that or not?”

“She did,” you interrupted.

“I was not asking you,” Tetreus paused, “Enough of this. -What- are you making as your masterpiece? How long will it take?”

> Stay silent, he was not asking you, after all; let Carinda handle this.
> “You will see when it is ready, King’s Representative.”
> “If you want to see what master Carinda taught me, you -will- have to wait.”
> “I am making a Onestone braid, I need to gather the materials from the Quarry and Russet Swamp first.”
> Ignore the knight. “Let’s go, master Carinda. We should check around the waggon one more time.”
> [Write In]

The Russet Swamp question-prompt is still there, I just can’t find the right moment to have Julian ask it, but he will! On second though, maybe talking about your feelings in front of two sleeping people was not the best idea … thanks Carinda! And malic pebble? In human lands, we call those drugs!

>>5092475
>Stay silent

Pebble-addled as we are, we're wont to make an ass out of ourself.

I noticed we are on page 9. This was supposed to be a one-shot but if you don't mind, I'll continue onto the next thread once we are on page 10.

>>5092475
> Stay silent, he was not asking you, after all; let Carinda handle this.
As >>5092479 says. Don't think he's going to take it well when he sees it's a gift for master

>>5092480
I'm enjoying it a lot so far, so please do!

>>5092475
>Stay silent, he was not asking you, after all; let Carinda handle this.

> Sorry everyone, no update today.

He told you to be silent. You swallowed, stirring your eyes away from the confrontation. You let Carinda handle the situation.

“It will take him as long as he’ll need,” Carinda pushed her hand against his chest: the highest she could reach. “Lay off my pupil, king’s knight. If you cared about Julian’s abilities, you wouldn’t have arrived only yesterday, and without prior warning, to just judge him.”

Tetreus pushed her accusing hand off himself. “It is my -trade- to judge him, dwarf.” A sudden crackle of dry wood intruded upon the heavy-lingering air. Undisturbed by Carinda's gesture, he pushed his hand down; unlike Carinda, he did not touch her. He intoned, sceptically. “And if you were proud of his abilities, dwarfsmith, the shop would be displaying-selling the pieces he had made.”

No, that’s…

Carinda drew back, her eyes faint-heartedly looking at you. She bit her lip, returning the gaze with an ardent fire in her eyes, “I had been asked to train Julian into a blacksmith as masterful as the smiths we have in Vag Ladur. He is not making a coat hook, our masterpieces take time.”

Tetreus moved past Carinda as if she was a mere rock in his path. He approached you, his stare: icy and sharp. Your master stomped forward, showing her hand between you and the knight, his stance remained unchanged outside her watch. “Every day, my expectations grow, Jybean.” He lifted the ornamental sheathe, removing the blade in one pull with an almost-medical sonority, inches away from your face. “This blade is made by human smiths. If your work takes seven days, I will be expecting a masterpiece greater than this sword; understand?”

Carinda grunted, safely grabbed the blade and pulled it away. Tetreus calmly sheathed the sword and took a step back, observing you.

“You should not dare Julian like that,” Vera said, half-exposed out of her sleeping bag, “He might just do it, King’s Representative—”

“You are awake,” Tetreus interrupted, waving his hand towards himself, “Get up then, Vornika. -We- are going on a -proper- patrol.”

Without another word, he turned around and walked off, although he slept for no more than an hour-or-two. Veronica stood up, eye-bags under her eyes. She yawned, leading her hands from her toes to her knees and her chest in a stretch. Your friend gave you a winking smile, and even a shoulder pat—she was not as helpful as she thought!—before following behind Tetreus, leaving you and Carinda alone.

Your master clenched her fist, exhaling in clear annoyance. “Suit himself. Now I -hope- he falls off his damn stallion tomorrow-day.”

“Master…”

Carinda looked at her mug, shook her head, and then lifted the lidless keg to drink from it like a bucket. Despite eating the pebble, her gulps were enormous. Finally, she put the keg down, as if holding down an unfeminine belch. “Don’t listen to him, Julian.” She hit her chest with enough strength to make her body wobble. “I was told nothing about a ‘Representative’, and I do not care; you should neither. I am the only person you need to impress with your masterwork.” She smiled, “And I have full confidence and trust you’ll be able to do it.” She sat down.

You had to trust your master, you -did- trust her, but you were not convinced. If Tetreus disagreed, that would spell trouble for Carinda, and perhaps even end up in a conflict. She spend seven years away from her home, and a reward was promised to her people. If Tetreus reported to the king that he was disillusioned by the results and your masterpiece, what would happen then?

It was too late to change the material, but you could switch what you were making. You -wanted- for it to be a gift, doubling the “Language of the Gift” Tetreus would surely not understand. Making a stupid sword would require much more of the ore; it would take much longer, thus. Perhaps, maybe, you could make a knife … a bracelet … a broach for the king? What if you made both, the beard bead and another item ...

“Julian!” Carinda shouted, interrupting your thought malarkey. She said, “Do. Not. Worry. Do what you were planning to do.”

You sat beside her, the effects of the pebble barely present. You said, with a calm and stoic voice, “I will need your help, master.”

She raised her eyebrow, “With smithing?”

“No, I need your help to come up with a plan to hunt and kill the beast."

She smiled, “I was wondering; you handle the smithing yourself. Do you know the name of it?”

“No,” but you did know how it looked; you describe the beast from the illustration: a gator-lizard with six twisted legs and a large orb-shaped swelling stomach—the thing you need—like that of a frog’s throat. You did not know how big the beast was; was it snake sized or alligator sized?

“That sounds familiar,” she paused—had she realised it was a beast from the book? “Are you sure it is in the Russet Swamp?”

You nodded.

She rolled the keg with her hand, lifting and lowering it in place. “The swamp is bothersome to traverse and will be hard to hunt or lay traps. The beast sounds like it will be the one hunting us there. The sunk ground is like sludge, and the trees branches and brambles heavily entrench and skewer everything above the muddy waters. Do you have any ideas; what can I help with?”

> “Do you think I should ask around if anybody from the Quarry is willing to help us? A hunter?”
> “We can try to lure it out with bait, and then stab its' head once it is occupied with it.”
> “We can make a trap from those brambles and force it to the ground, and then kill it once it's entrapped and unable to move.”
> “We can look for some kind of poison in the Quarry to feed it to the beast.”
> “We can lead it to the almost-fallen Black Horn tree and then collapse it on top of the beast.”
> [Write In]

> Let's hope the beast is not elephant-sized! Tetreus sure speaks a lot for somebody who'll probably fail to forge a nail, doesn't he?

>>5094544
>“Do you think I should ask around if anybody from the Quarry is willing to help us? A hunter?”

>>5094544
> “We can try to lure it out with bait, and then stab its' head once it is occupied with it.”
> “We can make a trap from those brambles and force it to the ground, and then kill it once it's entrapped and unable to move.”
Sort of combine both, rather than just bait have a snare or pitfall under it. Any other hunters are probably going to ask for money or bits, and it's unlikely Tetreus will leave us hanging if as ask for help
>>5094546
Eh. It's his job I suppose. He's still going to throw a hissy fit when he sees the piece though

“Do you think I should ask around if anybody from the Quarry is willing to help us? A hunter?”

“Quarry is a mining town,” Carinda pondered, “there might not be any hunters or even soldiers there.”

You rubbed your hands and moved them closer to the fire.“How come? What if something happens, don’t they need protection?”

Carinda shook her head, “You live in the safest lands on the seeming Wherewithal, Julian. There's nothing armed miners can’t handle.” She continued to sip the ale in-between her explanation; she was planning to finish that keg -tonight-. “Let’s ignore the Russet Swamp—no one smart goes there—” —you would consider it a jab at you if she did not visit the place as well before— “that’s a problem too; you might find and ask the brawniest of miners to help you, but being tall is going to be a detriment in that swamp.” She glanced at the very bottom of the keg, then at the collection of malic pebbles in her hand. She sighed, visibly frustrated.

“Do you have more, master Carinda?” you nodded towards the waggon.

“Who would bring only one keg with them, Julian?” She said, almost mockingly. Not a dwarf would. Not Carinda.

Then there was the question of pay; you had money, the smithy was a business and even the apprentices get paid and you were no exception. Your hand reached for a cloth-pouch pendulous off your belt, fingers stroking the coins inside. The ways to spend money in Crisscross—you never ventured too far or that often— were scarce. You carried a plentiful amount on you, but only a small share of what you actually had saved. Would you be able to afford the asking wage? You were not going to ask the miners to die, just help …

“If that fails, do you think it would be possible to make a pitfall?”

“It’s a nasty swamp, Julian,” she said in earnest, “If you dig too deep, you’ll end up stuck in a quagmire yourself.

“A snare, then? Some sort of cage out of the barbed evergreen?”

“That could work, but we’ll need to find out how large this beast is first.”

“We’ll also need a bait,” you added, “A chicken or a piglet. I remember that they raised those last time we visited in the town, not sure about selling.”

Carinda dragged her mug above her ear and against her forehead, “As long as the ‘King’s Representative’ does not give unnecessary trouble.”

You watched the fire, your doting gaze passing at Carinda. “I don’t think he’ll interfere, but he is not going to help with the hunt either. He even insisted that Veronica didn't assist or help me in any way; he’s really set on one-person-masterpiece ... He might not even like -you- helping me.”

Carinda swayed her mug towards you, a splash of the alcohol misting the open flame; a colourful aroma of hops and rye arising.

“Let’s bring him: if you end up in a deadly situation and I am too far, by some chance, he's still going to save you. That's less worry on my part.”

You scowled, shuddering at the though of it, “Let’s not end up needing his rescue.”

*** *** ***

Your journey continued the following day, across a rough-rocky region of the land; with a mountainous hillside on the left and a tempestuous river on the right, loud and powerful. You were switching from sitting with Carinda on the waggon’s perch to enjoying the lukewarmness inside its metal shell with Veronica. It was far too cold to do otherwise, even if you strived to. Your master kept an eye on the exposed skin of your face and your hands turning bluish and would ask you to go inside once spotted.

“What are you doing?” you asked Veronica.

Your friend was in a cheerful mood, unsurprisingly so. She was going through bundles of dried herbs, something she loved to collect … and burn, especially burn. She sniffled, faking a grimace as she waved her head at the interior of the waggon. “I just thought it smells bland and empty here, Jydian” —Vera please— “I think we should spice up the air a bit, but I can’t decide … “ She lifted the three heaps she was holding in your face.

> A collection of yellowish-white shrubs. It smells of lemongrass and saffron. The fragrance makes you reflect on the day you were made Carinda’s apprentice.
> A bundle of pink-red plants and petals. It smells of rosemary and sweet rose. The fragrance makes you reflect on when you first realised you had a crush on Carinda.
> A pack of brownish-grey herbage. It smells of apricot and a bitter taste of blood. The fragrance makes you reflect on when you ended up defending the waggon against riffraff bandits.
> “The autumn smells nice, your ‘fragrances’ are just going to ruin it.”
> [Write In]

> Picking an incense will cause a short flashback.

>>5095633
>A pack of brownish grey herbage
We have plenty of reasons to treasure, honour, and love our waifu already. Let's have a reminder of battle. We need to reinvigorate our martial courage for the beast-hunt!

>>5095633
>> A pack of brownish-grey herbage. It smells of apricot and a bitter taste of blood. The fragrance makes you reflect on when you ended up defending the waggon against riffraff bandits.
Sure, might be cool

Hey, QM, it may be a good idea to archive this soon.

> Hey all. I am sorry for no updates these last few days. You know how Christmas goes, it's hard to write an update when you are smashed on alcohol (although some QMs are certainly able to, hope I can reach their level!) We will continue tomorrow, with a new thread.

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2021/5054659/

>>5098319