An Unlikely Bride 19

When day came the wagons were already moving, Reiger's group out in front and Drond opted to follow behind without bothering to wake his chief. This made the northerner uncomfortable, but he forced himself to ignore it by showering his wife in the attention she deserved which earned him lazy kisses. Unfortunately she was being lazy that morning, when he sat up she merely watched him and didn't bother getting dressed. That suited him just fine, he gazed at her naked form and tried to sigh away the knowledge that he'd need to abandon their mobile sanctuary soon enough.

Finally she pulled herself up, crossing her legs to sit opposite from him as her hand plucked the map from its little cavern of leather and other assorted junk.

"Husband show Anza?" she asked, rolling it out between them.

Their wagons were on the road near the Kjarvangir range, heading north, had they gone south after leaving the temple they would've hit the border town of Skjardal! There they could've resupplied and gotten rid of everything that took up unnecessary space, it wouldn't have added much more distance to their trip. Almost kicking himself for not consulting the map sooner, he pointed to the spot they were likely at.

"Vidarstad is ahead, I am sure that this is the land the guard talked about, it's on the east side of the Gunnarsvik River."

She looked down at the small symbol. "Big?"

"A city, probably as big as Sardag, perhaps even more, because here," he pointed at the symbol interrupting the rocky peaks, "is the Hulvensjaar Pass, it once connected the north to the Eastlands long ago. I intend to reopen it, we will build great towers there."

"We build?" she asked, looking at him with an unsure expression. "Maybe husband forget Kozakrim small kobolds."

He shook his head. "I did not forget. There is no secret among humans about the wishes of your kind, wife. The kobolds want to have grand cities, to live like humans, to be more important than the knife-ears in the south. Do you think I have not noticed your hurt looks when we get near a city? How happy you were to wander Munvangr? Is there a better way to care for my wife than to build her these things?"

Anza revealed her thoughts when she flashed him a delicious, sultry smile. At first he thought he would be rewarded, physically, and his heart throbbed a bit as she slinked her nubile body over to his side of the map. Immediately his expectations were advertised and he slid the map out of the way to give her access, but she ignored it for a moment which made him confused. No, her attention was focused up at him and her claws ran across his scalp as she examined him with calculating, judging eyes.

"I wonder how much ambition is behind those beautiful eyes," he murmured as he slowly came to appreciate the situation. "Do I want to know?"

She giggled and shook her head. "No, husband."

Lesser men would've been intimidated by the pint-sized predator stroking their hair, but Thonvar regarded her with approval as he considered how much thought she had probably spent on such a plan. Even on the map it was obvious that their territory would have been defined by the mountain pass, his mind conjured up images of her spending days gazing over at the other side during the summer months; all the while knowing she might inherit the authority to claim it all someday. Seeing her, in that moment, may have struck terror into lesser men as they realized just how... expendable they were.

Not him.

When he kissed her she moaned with relief, he also felt the excitement melt into satisfaction and savored the taste of her eager tongue against his own. Wasting absolutely no time, his wife's hand found the part of him that yearned for affection, giving the hardened flesh a firm squeeze. Musical laughter bubbled forth from her as his lungs tried to steal her breath with a surprised gasp, she broke the kiss and rubbed her nose into his chin.

"I am glad I married you," he confessed, finding her other hand with his own. "I'm--"

"Good husband," she finished, bringing his knuckles up for a kiss. "Best husband. Tell Anza of towers."

"What?"

She gave him a soft nod, her firm grip giving way to a gentle reciprocation for added encouragement. Thonvar exhaled and relaxed against the wagon, watching her amused expression, but he knew she was quite serious. Why she was choosing to have the conversation this way... It didn't matter, he closed his eyes and tried to visualize the structure.

"Thonvar," she giggled, licking his lips, "tell Anza."

"I do not know how wide and," he gulped, steeling his mind against the distraction, "tall the pass is. The rocks. I would like a bridge so wide a town can fit on it, then--"

Anza kissed him.

"Husband make of rock big house for Anza?" she purred, sliding a little closer to him. "Anza want."

"Yes, the biggest we can, I promise."

This seemed to please her, the rows of ivory glistened in the faint light coming from a hole in the canvas. How did that get there? His mind reached out for it and he lost focus, but it was recaptured when she slid herself down to sit on his lap. They shared a happy gasp and a contented sigh together, her claws on his bare chest for stability as she moved.

"Best husband," she breathed, leaning up to lap a bead of sweat on his neck. "Get crown for Anza?"

He nodded quickly, sliding his hands up her thighs.

"Thonvar chief, need crown," his wife observed, her eyes flicking up to the top of his naked head. "Not respect if not have, big crown for big, big husband."

A shudder rattled up his spine, but he managed to say, "if you think this is best," before being cut off by a kiss.

"Anza have good husband, best husband," she cooed, making sure to emphasize her point by stroking his hair again. "Anza good wife?"

Answering her with words was too hard, too complicated, he finally gave in to his masculine urge and their lips met with hot passion. With both hands he gripped her full rump, squeezing it with need as he guided her, drawing out a sonorous moan from deep within. When she peeled back to get a look at him they watched each other for a long time, with him in control she was free to pet him, to touch his face, and in that their sense of time melted away.

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Their day was spent snuggled together in the wagon and she rained happy kisses down on him between her giggling and contented sighs, he wondered what he had done to deserve such treatment. Their earlier conversation wasn't enough; he was confident that she knew, deep down, that he would take his new title quite seriously and nothing they said would have been a surprise. He pondered asking a few times, but her demeanor was likely to provoke her toward being mysterious and elusive. Maybe he might have sulked in deep thought, but she made sure to keep his focus by being adorable and affectionate.

Responsibility soon came knocking, quite literally in fact, and he was forced to get dressed in spite of her attempts to seduce him once more. Eventually he had to wrap her up in the furs, tightly, just to keep the amorous kobold distracted long enough to cover his loins.

Seeing him dressed made her huff in irritation, but she still flashed him a coy grin.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked.

She giggled and looked down, undressing him with her eyes.

"I would like to let you have your fun, but we have a clan to lead. They look to you, even though I am their chief."

"Yes, husband," she sighed, wiggling free of her furry prison. "Have already pleasure, maybe egg grow."

Oh if only, maybe then she'd settle down.

Thonvar smiled and crawled over, planting a kiss on her belly before whispering, "I hope so."

"Anza carry egg for husband, get fat, husband want fat wife?" she giggled, stroking his hair again.

"You would be beautiful."

At first her eyes narrowed, but then she caught that it wasn't sarcasm and right then a tiny squeak escaped her throat before she could giggle the noise away. More kisses, more nose rubs, he had to laugh at her enthusiasm toward him. This was why he didn't fear her, he knew they were bonded heart and soul, it was an unlikely and so very appropriate match made by the gods.

"I need to leave, wife," he warned, trying to peel away. "I'll open this curtain if you're dressed or not."

She gasped and shoved him with mock anger before turning away.

"Get dressed," her chief commanded, slapping her backside. "Nobody shall see this but me."

Retaliating with a swat of her muscular tail, she did do as ordered but made sure he saw everything that he'd be missing over the day. From the look she gave over the shoulder it was clear that her nude form wouldn't be forbidden to him for long, she smiled and covered herself as he reluctantly did the same. Within a few minutes they were decent, but it didn't stop her from clinging to his back as he slid off the wagon and joining him outside.

Apparently Razalryn had been waiting for him to discuss... Something. Perhaps it was important? At least enough for her to wear it on her face, only politely smiling as he let the kobold down.

"My lord," she began, pausing only to withdraw a scrap of parchment, "I have given it some thought, these are items I, we, will need in the upcoming months. Having them sooner would be better, I would hate--"

"Enough. We discussed this, are these items expensive?"

She shook her head. "They are not, my lord. Meat can be dried in the cold air of the mountain, it would only be a minor inconvenience for us. These items are important for other endeavors, I am sure you will be pleased with them."

Obviously he had to look at the list then, whatever she had planned would pass by him first and he didn't care if it meant delving into learning a bit about magic to understand it. With these new developments he had quickly learned a hunger to know, to be in control, and so he scrutinized her list quite carefully.

It was in dwarven script.

"I can't read this."

Sighing to herself she began to recite the list, "First on the list is basic supplies, I obviously do not want to dwindle the supplies of our 'resident alchemist' with many other responsibilities. Second is... I assume you are familiar with the processes of the smith? At least on a basic level, my lord?"

"That is something I have never done," he admitted.

"You are at least familiar?"

Thonvar shrugged, but he was getting impatient. A non-answer was better than a lie, his glare made sure that his displeasure was quite clear to the cat-elf.

"Well, as you may know, the forging process is not without waste and some of this is useful to a clever alchemist."

"A dwarven alchemist?" he asked, attempting to connect what seemed like obvious dots to him. "This is what you mean by clever?"

Razalryn nodded. "Few mer and even fewer men have set foot within the forbidden halls, that is simply not allowed under any circumstances. Since the Schism the dwarven race has grown reclusive, wary of outsiders, and for good reason. Rahmer spies are everywhere, interested in either our knowledge or," her tone soured, "to detect so-called 'heresy' among us which is just an excuse to send spies dressed in the robes of inquisition."

"I don't understand or ca--"

"Truly you would not, my lord," she snapped, flattening her ears to match her sharp tone. "Best that you did not, the Temple is but another institution among the rahmer that seeks to bend the will of all our kind including the dwarves! I am of Haranjan blood, so-called "civilized beasts" that are recognized to have meredic features, and of course svalmer as well. Now that the war is finished, those clans that resisted the call to bleed for 'Her Holy Highness' are under the thumb of persecution! This is precisely why we did not trust her and why I refused the 'help' of her agents."

"I already did not like the knife-ears, what does this have to do with your list?"

She blinked and looked down at it.

Truthfully he wasn't opposed to learning new reasons why the southern elves were awful, but complaining about them wouldn't answer his important questions. Perhaps later she could explain more, especially about the tricks the rahmer used to force their will on others. This conversation would be quite interesting to him, likely it would be relevant information given that the elves would be at his doorstep soon enough.

Yet she didn't know any of this, she wasn't in his head, so after a few moments of silence she finally admitted, "Well it really has nothing to do with that, and for that I apologize, my lord."

"This is not necessary. What do you need from the smith?"

"Scraps of the metal they work, the ashes, and metal filings. I will be collecting these myself, but I am quite sure if that list is delivered to the guild they will fill the order. Perhaps the old kobold and her daughter should--"

"Anything else?"

Shaking her head quickly she answered, "No, that is sufficient. Of course with sufficient supply of metal I could do more, but..."

They didn't have the money, so he did not reply. They were nearing Vidarstad and there were others who needed his attention, but first he picked up his wife and held her close. She did not resist, her reaction was limited to just an amused giggle.

"So how will you be paying the smith?"

"I have my ways, my lord," the feline retorted. "Those supplies on the list, I assume you have sufficient funds to cover them."

Thonvar nodded, slowing his pace by half. Most of his kobolds were unknown to him still, but he had no need to speak directly to any of them except Khedze. When he appeared before her she handed the reigns off to Kix, sliding over to the edge to smile at the chief and his bride. Unsurprisingly she seemed to have been expecting them, a testament to her cleverness and proof that she was quite ready for the job.

Anza passed the list to her. "Zatuiirekt guh tzuntun," she said with a mock smile. "Khedze taza?"

Old tired eyes examined the parchment at the tip of her nose, but eventually it passed muster with a sly smirk.

"Yes, good present! Teach young how to buy good thing, chief give old Khedze gold?" she laughed, displaying her empty palms to him.

Rolling her eyes, Anza reached down and plucked the gold right off his belt. "I give."

Protesting that decision would be foolish, but he didn't have much time to do it anyway and in a flash she had completed her transaction. This seemed to excite the daughter who bounced in place, but it was Reina that caught his eye. Oh she was aware that money had changed hands for sure, he looked beyond the kobold to get a better view of the girl.

"You're going into town with Khedze and Kix, there are things to buy at the guild there," he explained. "Listen to the old kobold, but watch over them both."

"Aye, will do. Can I buy somethin' myself?"

"Do you have money?"

"Aye."

He shook his head, somewhat confused. "Then why would I care?"

"I'unno, thought I'd ask first," she mumbled. "I'm just a girl."

A girl, but old enough to make decisions like that on her own. "Where's your brother? With Corrick and--"

She nodded and leaned out a bit to say, "Aye, Corrick, Hedrek, Ruran, and Lowen. Back there next to the water cart, it's where they always walk."

Thonvar nodded at her and started up the hill, but the men in question had already strolled over the crest and he met eyes with the spellsword immediately. What to do with him? There was Khala too, the cook, her assistant, and the replacement washmaid who seemed to spend more time daydreaming than her job. Fortunately animals were smart enough to follow along and her negligence wasn't immediately dangerous, but it still was scolded and she jumped at the boom of his voice. Anza laughed, but she wiggled free to catch up with the mobile kitchen. Hungry, perhaps?

Ruran obviously thought as much too. "Been eatin' a lot more, she has."

"I haven't noticed," the northerner replied, choosing to walk on the outside of the group. "Ruran, Corrick, I don't have a job for you yet. Hedrek, you know what we need and take Declan with."

There was that fourth man he kept forgetting about. Reina said his name was Lowen.

"You there, Lowen."

"Aye?" the man began, tilting up his helmet. "Got somefink fer me? Or do y'wanne me ta stan' 'ere?"

So that's why he kept forgetting him! Of course, every time they had stopped he was standing there at the water wagon or just walking around the wagons in general. From a distance he looked somewhat like Corrick, and when he was "on patrol" the two were more or less identical. Ruran was dressed more fancy, of course, and Hedrek almost resembled a northerner as far as his physical build went so perhaps those times he had assumed Corrick was nearby...

"Yes, of course," the chieftain answered. "I do not trust Vidarstad, not only are they easterners but this city supposedly has mages in court, who knows what types could be coming here? Sardag was in need of help, I doubt they will be so friendly here."

"I reckon you've got a point there," Ruran added with a nod toward the city. "If you're serious 'bout makin' that cave proper defended then Corrick an' I might as well look 'round for help. Taverns always got somebody in 'em lookin' to get away, push comes to it we can scour the jail too."

Jail? "That is... Not what I want," Thonvar muttered, not even sure why it was suggested.

"Not everyone in a prison belongs there, lad."

Exceptions did not disprove any rule, that was foolish, but despite the rule they were out there.

"Use your judgement, but remember that our winter will already be lean," the northerner warned. "Desperate people will work, this much is true, but unless they can feed themselves we will have--"

"Tha' is somethin' I can 'andle, trust me," Corrick asserted. "Freeloaders gotta pay for rations then."

Well, he did have a city to build, he had promised as much to his wife and a man from the Reach never went back on his word. Such dishonor would be unbearable even though Anza would forgive him if he tried and fell short, so perhaps he could make do with extra hands there to do the hard labor.

After all, having supporters who weren't kobolds could be a good advantage if things went sour.

"This is good," agreed Thonvar, looking squarely at the southerner when he spoke. "I want useful people."

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Vidarstad was everything Thonvar imagined it would be and more, like many cities built on steep terrain it climbed up and looked incredible from the gates. Once through the first gate they traveled to the right and up to the second level, they parked their wagons in a space that almost resembled a giant horse stall made out of stone. Their neighbors to the north were a pack of fox-like people, obviously merchants, and they had set up a large tent in front where their wares were displayed. Foreigners were all around the area, the road was quite obviously well-traveled and unsurprisingly there were pilgrims coming and going. Immediately he noticed the guards were quite well-equipped, the armor they wore was almost ornate in nature and he didn't hide his admiration.

However it was his armor that seemed to be the focus of a few curious onlookers, he emerged from their camp wearing it and certainly didn't try to conceal the dauvic pieces. Reiger's group had ditched their wagons already and were nowhere to be seen, but word of his exploits were likely reaching the ears of the common folk. No doubt the guards heard too, they eyed him as he walked past with his sea of kobolds trailing behind.

That caught attention too.

"You there!"

A regal, sophisticated accent gave away the identity of the anonymous man even before the northerner turned to look.

"What do you need, elf?" he replied, his tone even and civil.

"My lord, the jarl of these lands, wishes to see you. We've received word from Sardag, you have woven quite the reputation for yourself, Thonvar of Ivarshold. Or should I say Chief Thonvar of the Kozakrim?"

Jarl. Hodvar was supposed to be a thane.

"I was told a thane rules this city and these lands, Osmund, son of Uthgar," the chief countered, conveniently forgetting that he had just told a lie.

"No, you are incorrect, Hodvar is jarl and... There seems to be some dispute to his claims, Gurnjar and Uthgar both insist that my lord doesn't deserve the title. Obviously they are wrong, with no king in all of Rangvaal to settle these disputes I believe you northerners have more ancient ways of determining who is what title and owns this and that."

"They do, in the Reach we do not slay our brother for a handful of copper," he corrected, his eyes narrowed on the elf. "I must have misheard then, so tell me of Hodvar."

Instead of answering the elf just smiled.

Thonvar sighed and nodded over his shoulder, it would obviously take some time to gather what they needed and he might as well let them get on with their work. Anyone who didn't wander off remained with him, really it was just Anza, Runa, Agziqoh, and a few kobolds that followed him. They had left the other sebekans and several kobolds back at the wagons, Zan included, just to make sure they weren't stolen from. Hopefully Ruran and Corrick had come up with some system, otherwise it might have made a scene and...

"As you can see, we've catered to several guilds here," the elf explained, motioning to the tall buildings on either side. "Hodvar's father, Alfgeir, was interested in those rogues who split from the Myric College. You've probably never been, but Aban Aeras was becoming rather political and these days it's even worse!"

"I know nothing of magic," the northerner confessed.

Looking back at him, the elf smiled and replied, "I'm quite sure you're familiar with political tricks, you've grown since I last saw you hiding in the shadows."

"You've been to see my father?"

"Of course, I'm surprised you don't remember... Are you still afraid of the trees?"

Heat rushed to his face and Thonvar suddenly felt like walking the other way, but it was the brush of soft scales on his hand that gave him strength. Anza was something sturdy he could hold on to, in that moment he was thankful to have her. What other wife would know her husband's heart so well?

Instead of pursuing that line of questions, the elf was distracted by a very impressive building. "Ah, and here we have a wonderful example of northern architecture! A hall for the most impressive warriors of the land, I'm sure, have you heard of the Henderian Order? Not as renowned as the other mercenaries, but trust me when I say Taran Hender was a visionary."

"What did he do?"

"Well for starters he built the old monastery they called home entirely by his own hand, two decades of work and this was while he was training the first initiates. I call him a visionary because, despite his reputation as the mortal embodiment of truth and justice, he sought wealthy patrons to fund his little mercenary force rather than trying to squeeze coppers from a farmer harried by bandits and thieves. Too bad he died defending what he built, but... Well, that's precisely what made him so attractive to so many."

Thonvar knew nothing of this person, but if the elf's words were true then he would've been good company for any honorable son of the Reach. Knowing the easterner though, it wouldn't be much of a surprise if the nobles robbed the farmer anyway to avoid paying for the fee and avoid showing responsibility for their own. Bandits rarely lasted long in the Reach because thanes, jarls, and kings led their people rather than rule over them.

They would not hold their title for long if challenged, by ritual combat or by their ancient laws the righteous people of the Reach would prevail.

What did it get them? As they walked he wondered that and, looking around, he was coming up short with nice things to say. They scoffed at their neighbors that were raised weak in their tall cities and got fat from their decadence, but the Reach was named so because it was vast nothingness. They were tough and hardy, thin from work and fasting, stubborn as the day was long...

He looked at his weathered hands.

Even a noble like him had worked the fields and milked cows, not often, but he was far different than the soft foreigners. They came from tall cities because they built them, they did not fear winter and they certainly did not need to look over their shoulder to keep from being eaten. They were arrogant because they had reason to be, they made great things, they mastered the magic of the world and tamed it to do their bidding. When he looked down at Anza she smiled at him, but he did not smile back. He knew. For the first time he saw through her eyes, saw the things she wanted and felt shame for never having them.

Of course he loved his people, his heritage, but he knew they could be better. While he was not the king there, he would try to lead his new people to greatness. A son of the Reach inspired others by example, Thonvar would show his fire-haired warrior kin the way to be greater than they were.

"Your lord knows of me and my exploits, he knows I am chief of the Kozakrim and my lands are beyond the border," Thonvar stated, eyes on the elf. "What does he want?"

"To see if you're what they say you are," the elf replied without looking back, "but more importantly to see if you are a threat."

So the politics begin.

Without a smile the chief countered with, "Anyone who would need to consider me a threat earned their fear."

"Hmm? How so?" the elf asked, looking back at him.

Thonvar kept his tone even when he declared, "Any man that comes up my mountain looking for war will find it, I will not stop when I throw him off."

All of that and the elf just smiled over an unreadable expression, but the message was sent regardless. No man would have an elven servant like that if he wasn't interested in their current conversation, regardless of what would be said in the keep the elf would relay the warning. Would it be received warmly? That was impossible to know, but the mental apparition of his father reminded that it was all up to him.

Without a doubt the walk up to the keep was an intentional display of the greatness and power of the city, the elf's words faded away as the numerous accomplishments floated by. Surely a city like this one would attract the kind of a talent the others would be looking for, people who built tall buildings and grand bridges spanning across a stream too tiny to warrant such importance. From what he could see it wasn't going to remain that way, glancing westward Thonvar caught sight of workers building a little dam. This would probably freeze up in the colder months, just like the stream itself, but it would be a smart way to collect and store ice.

One time a visitor had explained, after a few rounds of mead, about the flavor differences between natural ice and the conjured counterpart; supposedly skilled hydromancers at some fancy college could determine what students were doing wrong just by taste alone.

Too bad the kobold race handled cold about as well as southern elves, he didn't expect to export much ice from his mountain fortress.

"Husband!" Anza whispered, pinching his thigh for good measure.

What had he missed? Fortunately his wife didn't wait, her tiny finger leveled squarely on the mountain range in the distance.

"That ours, all you see," she explained, pointing from one peak to the other. "See how big?"

His eyes studied the snowy rocks more closely, particularly the part that looked suspiciously flat and level where any sane person would look to establish crops and settle. Was it ideal? No, of course not, but all that they'd give up by building so high up would be made up for in security and safety. Northerners did not often use siege weapons and southerners did not know how to navigate the north's mountains, mages would be their only threat. Mages couldn't fly though, and they weren't invincible, and if necessary he was certain they could do battle against them.

That pass though...

Even with the snow he could see the old road that went up to it, they had walked past the junction south of the city and somehow they hadn't noticed it. Traffic from the south, heading north, would have an option of crossing over the mountains if they could open the pass and free up the far eastern lands. A greedy man would charge a toll, but greedy men often sowed resent and hatred in others which had a way of bringing ruin on all. Reachfolk were taught to be wary of these evils, his father especially reminded all his sons of walking that fine line in life.

Good thing Grulf hadn't been married to Anza, he'd be looking up at that mountain far differently and she would be miserable. Of course he was no doubt rejoicing at being spared the supposedly awful dishonor, but that boastful arrogance would come around if Thonvar had anything to say about it.

"This is more land than I thought," he finally replied, pausing to kneel down beside her. "We will make it greater than anyone ever dreamed."

She smiled before cupping his head with both hands. "Anza love Thonvar."

What magic did she have? His heart twisted and flipped from the electric stab the words put down his body, but he had nothing inside to cry out. What did men do here?

Anza giggled. "Did husband not know?"

Obviously he knew! Why else would he be frozen and speechless? Suddenly she had gone and made the feelings they felt even more real, like she had caught them by their tails and shackled them to reality for all time. Why hadn't he said it before? He didn't feel it was necessary, he showed, the words were too hard to make real and to sound the way his heart sang, but she was good at words and--

Her lips touched his and the proud warrior melted. Thoughts dissolved. Worry evaporated.

"Husband not good at tell Anza," she murmured, stroking his crimson hair. "Anza know. Husband need smart now, elve good at make sayings, husband be best. Do for krim, Thonvar be best strong chief, yes?"

"Yes, I must," he replied, certain he understood. "I wish you could talk for me."

"Anza know," she whispered, "be best husband for Anza."

Thonvar reassured his wife with a kiss before pressing his head to hers, both of her tiny hands disappeared under his own as time froze around them. This meeting was important for them, their first real act of diplomacy as husband and wife, as master and mistress of hundreds of lives looking toward the couple for guidance and sound leadership. Kobolds were weak things compared to armed soldiers, they would not have much hope if their eager neighbor looked up at the mountains with greed and envy. Or concern. A hero from the Reach coming east? What could he do? What could both of them do together?

Lords and jarls thought in these terms, of what was threatening and beneficial, the business of power and rule over the masses.

Now he thought this way too, she had shown him how.

"We will come away from this strong, my love."

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They stood before the throne of the northern lord in silence, enduring the test thrown at their feet.

Anza almost spoke, but his guiding hand found the back of her neck and gave the tender armor a gentle massage. Not yet, my wife, let them make the first move. This was the game and it would set the tone, it was Thonvar who was invited, he did not plead for an audience and he would not suffer the shame of acting like he had. This jarl was dangerous. He looked at Thonvar with the malevolent wrath that Grulf used, and behind that was the cleverness the gods bestowed upon Oddvar, this thane upstart styling himself as a jarl was quite worthy of the claim.

"Oh! I am so terribly sorry," the elf cried.

No, you are not, the chieftain thought to himself.

"My lord, this is Thonvar, son of Kargruuf, by marriage to Anza of Jinzakha-Gell he is chief of the Kozakrim kobolds. His exploits are known far and wide, including the defense of Sardag, and--"

Thonvar cut in at that point, "I have slain a Dauvic warlord in single combat with this blade," he motioned down, "the sword I have come to call Queenkissed. I doubt the rumors that precede me tell of how the spryggan queen herself sought my counsel, I owe some of my own success to her highness and to Fjoar Sariksen, who's tomb I cleared of elven vampires and thieves."

Smug grins and haughty attitudes shattered as his words echoed, the elf looked as if he'd swallowed a bug.

"What?"

"Ask her yourself if you dare," he fired back, but his eyes were square on the jarl. "A thane who claims to be jarl of these lands, your politics do not concern me and I care not for what your so-called lord says you are. I am no chief of a mere kobold clan, I am king of those mountains beyond your border. Your pact with my father-in-law, it is dissolved, we forge a new one here. The borders remain the same, you and yours stay off mine and ours except for trade and lawful travel. Violate this, make war with me, threaten my people, and I will burn Vidarstad to the ground."

Silence.

Tension.

Iron will kept him still even when his wife looked up at him, he felt her gaze trying to read him. There was nothing there, he was an unmoving statue of indomitable will, and his piercing glare never left the smirking jarl.

"Arrogance is not often a trait of the Fire-Hair, or is this just more of your kind's hot-headed nature getting the better of you?"

"Then pray to the gods you never witness my rage if this is what I am at rest."

Chuckling to himself, the jarl leaned forward to reply, "So, 'King Thonvar,' what if I were to agree to these terms? What do I get out of this arrangement?"

Something for nothing, as expected, but the self-proclaimed king couldn't reveal his thoughts and present weakness. Unfortunately he did not know what he had, what could be offered, in exchange for his guaranteed independence besides military assistance. Would kobold skirmishers be enough? Doubtful.

Anza's claws dug into the back of his thigh, perhaps a signal to pay attention to her foot scratching along the cobblestones? What did she mean? Traction? Strong footing? Claws? Would they trade animal parts? No, the people of Vidarstad had no use for trinkets and totems... What could she mean? Every scratch on the stone served only to--

Stone!

"As I said before, the politics of your realm do not concern me, but," Thonvar paused to shrug, "if your claim is disputed you will need armed bondsmen and huscarls to enforce it. There is not much else for miles, as our only neighbor it makes sense that Vidarstad would benefit from our mines."

"There is nothing of value there, I'm afraid, so your--"

"This wrong," Anza hissed, almost startling her husband.

She glared up at him and he tried to read her thoughts, but Thonvar could only see her frustration at her fragmented vocabulary. Their lessons had been forgotten and so she had walked into the meeting unprepared, but at least she had an advocate for her people. He had to think of something.

"As you know," the chieftain began, still looking at his wife, "kobolds are quite small, if anything they are skilled miners."

"Long ago, when the dwarves were still seen as mer and we were huddled in the forest, there was a dvalmer city-state in this area that stood as rivals to their western cousins," Hodvar explained. "Do you know what happened to them?"

"No."

"Well, nothing interesting, they abandoned their great citadel and they abandoned their outposts. An abundance of stone is one thing, the only thing to those ignorant and foolish of their culture, but the secret to the true power of the dwarves is ore. Metal. One of many differences they have with their meredic cousins, enough to cause that great Schism, and without access to a ready supply the dwarf will move on. That's just what they did."

"Are you calling my wife a liar?" Thonvar shot back with an echoing voice. "So dwarves long ago abandon a forest tower, this is what you use to insult her honor?"

"No, I would not call your wife a liar," the jarl admitted, sitting back in his throne. "That is not what I meant."

"Your words may twist what you've meant, but I know what I've heard."

Hodvar sighed and looked to the elf, but before the situation could get worse he held up a hand for silence. "I apologize for any offense to you or your wife's honor, I was only speaking of how poor a wager it would be for me to believe the kobolds of your wife's clan found a treasure where the dwarves did not."

"Then what does it mean to you if they found nothing? We will be poor then, if anything you would be wise to thank the gods for our misfortune."

That caught the jarl's attention. "Oh? How so?"

"How many trolls live up there? Direwolves? There are other beasts that would prey on your farmers too, if they were not cut down for their meat by a clan of hungry kobolds. How many bandits hide beyond your border? Men who come down to raid and then retreat, going where the law cannot find them only to return to raid again. I've heard of these wild folk, even of raiders from the other side, Uzkrig seems to have cared little and allowed them passage."

"Uzkrig allowed a great many things," added the elf.

Though it was subtle and almost imperceptible, Thonvar heard a hidden meaning in the retort. A great many things like what, elf? He spoke out of turn and it made the heat of anger rise to the red-haired warrior's skin.

"I am not Uzkrig," he growled with wrathful malevolence. "I will not tolerate men who act like fleas on a dog's back, tell all you meet that the bandits of my lands will move on or they will die. They have until midwinter, then the hunt shall begin."

"Midwinter? You must be mad!" the elf laughed.

A few others in the room chuckled, but it died off when neither the king nor the jarl joined them. They were busy judging each other, sizing the other up, deciding if a deal could be made and kept. As far as Thonvar went he was a dangerous enigma, Hodvar obviously had reason to doubt a man like that would stop at just the mountains and especially if the mountains could not be conquered. Nobody had built a city in such a hostile land, not even the dwarves, only the svalmer dared such construction when they built their volcanic settlements. These were cold peaks, magical wind stabbed the lungs and spawned elemental horrors that made permanent habitation foolish.

Only kobolds were so stubborn to try and make it work, and even the kobold had been banished from the sharp edge of the northern Kjarvangir range.

Yet it was the horseborn of the Reach who might have looked at the challenge like a wild stallion, knowing that the most strongest and bravest horse fought the hardest to resist the bond between steed and rider. Struggle like that made the reward sweeter, and the bond between the twin souls was stronger than the hardest steel. Such a bond went beyond the physical, it was unending, not even a god's will could sever it once forged.

Fire-haired resolve was obvious to the jarl, that much Thonvar could see. With a nod Hodvar stood up and the mountain king approached, they gripped each other's wrists and shook on it.

"Then it is luck I wish upon your hunt, because I know you'll need it. Farewell, King Thonvar."

Thonvar stepped back, greeted half-way by Anza.

"Wind guide you, Jarl Hodvar."

-------------------------------------------------

Relief was a good feeling, he had missed the sense of peace that followed.

There was nothing more Thonvar would have wanted than to avoid the whole mess, but with it over and done with he was glad that their only neighbor had good reason to leave him be. That left him to focus on the real foes, the ones within his land and the very elements themselves that would make their lives hard. Kobolds might have been content to huddle in caves weaving beads and bits of junk together, but that's why the kobold had never amounted to greatness. A town was a challenge, a city was a heroic feat, but a kingdom... Building a kingdom on mountains where even the dwarf had failed, this would be legendary.

Such a task seemed easy when thought of and fantasized about, but he was wise enough to know such nonsense was the Trickster's deception. Arrogance was ambition that had abandoned humility, it was the vice of the vain and foolish.

"Hold there!" a voice called.

Thonvar turned around, but for a moment he had some trouble seeing who called to him. Almost ready to dismiss it as a mistake, he caught sight of somebody short behind the giant tower of scales. Such a tiny creature, had it been draconic he would've mistaken it for a kobold! This was not, bearing skin much like his own the tiny creature looked something like Razalryn if she had been part bear or dog instead of cat. Or something like that. Perhaps a badger? There were stripes running down the middle of the black mane it bore, along with tipping the stubby little ears in spires of fur. No tail, not that he could see, but the once-fashionable rags he wore might have been concealing them.

"Thank you for waiting, you humans are too tall and walk far too quickly for my little legs!" he huffed, straightening the dingy vest.

"What do you need?"

"I need you, to be precise! I need to know what happened at Sardag, all I've gotten were rumors and rumor still tells me that you were there."

The fire-haired warrior nodded.

"Then on with it!"

What was there to say? "Rumor of an attack by demons is true, I was there and claimed several. Agziqoh bears a spear made of one of their weapons," he replied, motioning to the sebekan warrior. "How they struck in the middle of the city is not something I would know or understand, but by morning the threat was gone. Before that demons attacked us in the forest, leading a force of the again-walking dead."

"Yes, yes, I am well aware of these reports. Surviving two attacks then, anything else?"

How much did he want to reveal to the stranger?

"I... Dealt with some vampires. They were raiding a tomb. What are you? I've never seen your kind before."

With a scowl the short creature sighed and replied, "We come from an island to the east of Anor, our people are called takomtans and yes we are all this short. If you're going to ask about my attitude, don't, I doubt you would be happy with being shipwrecked and stranded. ... And if you're going to ask about that, don't! It's none of your business."

Knowing he was desperate gave Thonvar enough cause to forgive the creature for the rudeness. "A foreigner to these lands in muddy clothes would make any honorable man ask if he was in need of a hot meal, and perhaps a bath."

An offer of charity seemed to confuse him, the outward irritation dissolved into an expression of bewilderment. A smirk had to be fought off, Thonvar kept his face tight to show he was genuine with the offer despite Anza's angry poking.

"No, but I thank you for the thought. I have other engagements, you must understand I am quite busy, but your kindness is quite appreciated and I will make note of it. I've asked because these recent events spread concern and worry far and wide, stretching across the sea and our little island has noticed these... disturbances. To the natural order. You understand, don't you?"

Thonvar nodded. "Demons walking in the mortal realm is unnatural, legends of my homeland tell of a dark time they would bring upon us once more."

"Mm. Mhmm. A common point in all myths, countless eons before our time," replied the takomtan. "Elves measure from their own perspective and you humans do as they do out of convenience, but we seek to place our calendar as close to the truth as we can."

"What truth is that?"

"We all were created by one force and a darkness seeks to undo this creation, the point in time where the age of life itself began is our goal. This is why I'm here! I'm a collector, you understand? I retrieve information so we may record and preserve it and while this recent upheaval has delayed my original mission it is all quite interesting."

A skald then. Such a profession was an honored part of life, he could respect the foreigner for wishing to retain the World Song in written text. There was a time, long ago, when heroes traveled far and wide to do just that and learn the true history of all the people that ever was. Unfortunately he didn't know how that particular story ended, he hoped they were at least somewhat successful.

Before he could comment, the little scholar's attention had already been captivated by something else.

"I'm sorry, but I've... Yes, I'm sorry, I must bid you farewell," he mumbled, only glancing back at the human. "Safe journey."

"Wind guide you," Thonvar replied, but the little historian was already walking off.

A very odd encounter, but it wasn't unpleasant.

They were still some distance away from their wagons and the market bustle seemed to be giving them some space as more people, obviously catching wind of some gossip, started to gawk and whisper. Attention was uncomfortable by itself, but on top of everything that had happened? What were they saying? Who said the first words of whatever story being passed along? A tale that seemed to fly faster than anyone could reasonable walk, a crowd of onlookers had gathered at a corner tavern that overlooked the street heading up. A former guard tower perhaps, a section of the old city wall that had been more or less ripped apart served to display an upper level of spectators.

He ignored them, a neutral action, and proceeded onward to a flight of old stone steps that carried him out of sight. Before him was a ledge that overlooked part of the bottom levels, the sight caught his attention and he lingered for a bit before proceeding left and down the narrow alley. This was not meant for wagons, each slab of stone was just long enough not to make the step down uncomfortable and yet none of it was very uniform and even.

Perhaps the old stairs were the original way up into the town? An ancient path that might as well have been older than the First Era and into the time before elves started writing things down. None of it was built right away, they took centuries to make the village of Vidarstad into the city that seemed somehow more imposing after he witnessed proof of its ancient nature.

"Thonvar!" a voice called, as he rounded the corner.

There was a crowd before him, not townsfolk but instead these were his fellow travelers, and they parted ways to a group of armored warriors. Reachfolk.

"Yes?"

Their leader held out a hand and he took it, the grip of the man was firm as he said, "We've heard of your exploits to the west, would you let us come with you? I am Artur, this is Yevhen and his sister, Zoya, we come from the southlands near the Orsyna. We would only stay for a winter, we can work like the stonefolk farmers or however you wish."

"On the mountains? Our rations for the animals are already limited, if you were to come you would have to bring food for them."

They looked like he had punched them in the stomach, the color in the brother's face disappeared. Their horses were like family, the clans of horseborn warriors did not belong on mountains where the grass didn't grow.

Yet...

"We will pay for a wagon then, two, and do not think we cannot afford this," Artur declared, his companions nodding with conviction. "We've always thought of the Ivarshold folk to be our kin, we could not pass on this chance to see you. Did you truly marry a kobold?"

"I did," Thonvar replied, but Anza stepped forward all on her own. "This is my wife, Anza, her father was killed and I avenged him. By marriage I am now the chief of her clan, but in my heart she inherits her father's throne first."

She looked back at him with a scowl. "Thonvar not chief, Anza marry king."

Heat came to his cheeks, he hadn't wanted to mention that until much later. Now it was out. Kobold ambition needed to be tempered with patience, and their pride with humility, she clearly wanted to show him off and assert their shared importance.

"Yes, I told the jarl here my goal to carve a kingdom out of those untamed mountains. I am no king yet."

Artur laughed. "From what I have seen, you are well on your way to claiming those lands. Not just with the kobolds, we was impressed to see who has pledged to follow you and I knew I must ask too. To see so many without horses, I wonder, do you plan to put the green-skin to work?"

More laughter, all three of them chuckling at a joke he didn't understand.

"Green skin?"