The news lit a fire under everyone at the camp. Ambrose managed that day to hunt two more deer, both of which he hung up to drain. Gro-Lag returned to his work with an intensity that only an expected father could muster, showing up to dinner with the news that he had reached the half way mark on meeting all of the orders Rea had given him. Trelen matched his good news with their own that they had finished all the rods they thought they would need and so they and Ambrose could start on the workshop tomorrow.

  The buzz of the group progress fueling them, as soon as breakfast was finished the next day, the two made their way over to begin. Using a wooden board they had roughly made by nailing some of the planks they had intended to use for the bridge together, they carried over as many bricks as they could lift from the pile that had formed by the kiln.

  "Will this be enough?" Ambrose asked, through gritted teeth.

  "Probably not." Trelen replied, though heavy breaths.

  It took them at least seven trips before they had everything the Slovèi though they would need. They had an impressive pile of brick, the rods that they had made and a large amount of purified clay with buckets of water to rewet it if it dried.

  "And you are sure about how to go about this?" Ambrose asked, trying to catch his breath.

  "I think so?" They replied, tugging on one of their horns. “I only made the reinforcement rods before but I have seen a house being build, and I think some of the principles I used for the kiln should also work here."

  Ambrose took a swig of water from his skin. "Ok then, let's get started."

  They had just started laying the first layer of bricks to form the perimeter that would grow into the workshop’s walls when a familiar twinge cased Ambrose to suddenly stand up.

  "Is someone here?" Trelen asked, a touch of fear in their voice.

  "Yes." He replied flatly. "But I don’t think they are hostile." He looked back at the Slovèi. "Wait here."

  He made his way down the path they had been building and towards the main road to the city. As he did the tinge on his senses kept changing. When someone first crossed the boundaries to his land the feeling that accompanied it always started strong and then slowly dissipated, except for the time with the slavers. This time though it kept going off again and again and, in all honesty, it was rather annoying.

  As he neared his lands edge he heard a voice, one that he recognised.

  "Would ya make up ya mind and either come on or not." He heard Reabeck say.

  He emerged from the trees and found her, an older dwarf and someone he recognised with some shock, as a member of the city guard.

  "Hello there." He said, trying to not sound nervous.

  Reabeck turned and gave him a frustrated smile. "Ah Ambrose, good. Could you please tell this idiot that it's ok for him to come onto your land."

  The guard looked at him, and for a moment seems to be wondering how he knew him. "This is your land, isn't it? How did I know that before she told me?"

  "It's a bit confusing but yes this is my land, and is it safe for you to come on to it."

  The guard seemed to consider for a moment before stepping back. "No, I was sent to confirm the location that you gave us, and I think I have done that." He straightened himself and gave Reabeck a nod. "Thank you for showing me the way miss, I will return and inform the council." He then turned on his heels and quickly began making his way back towards the city. After a few strides he stopped and turned back to them. "Oh, you asked the council to look into Tyrus Honor?"

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Ambrose nodded, a pit forming in his stomach.

  "I was informed that the records from the postage guild show he received a letter four days before you made your request."

  The guard paused awkwardly apparently waiting for a response.

  "Is that it? Do you know who the letter was from?" Tyrus had spent his whole life in Bramptonburg, he couldn't think who from outside the city would contact him.

  "That’s all I was told." He paused again, before nodding and continuing on his way.

  "Well, that was odd." Ambrose said, as he walked to Reabeck's side.

  She looked at him and rolled her eyes. "Like he said, apparently the council wanted to confirm where you land was and since you informed them, I knew about it, the job landed to me to escort that boy here." She looked back at him as he made his way into the distance. "I know most of the competent guards have been sent to the border but they must have left some with some backbone in the city.”

  He furrowed his brown in confusion. "Most of the guards have been sent away?"

  She looked at him and nodded. "Didn't you hear, there has been some kind of rebellion in Tronbie, some are saying in the same style as the Brompton rebellion. Skirmishes have been spilling over the border and so all the cities in Medlund have been sending guards to try to quell them."

  The news was not a shock to him; there had been murmurs about uprisings in other countries on the continent for years but one thing did bother him. No, surely, he would still be too green? Ambrose thought to himself.

  Before he could expand on his worries, he remembered the other guest that had accompanied Reabeck. "Apologies, Rea who is this you have brought also?"

  She gave a flat smile and sighed. "Ambrose, I would like you to meet my father, Shigrock."

  The dwarf offered his hand which Ambrose took, the force of the handshake nearly pulling him to the ground. "It is an honor to meet you, my boy." He said, in a voice so gruff it reminded Ambrose of grinding stone. Shigrock was taller than his daughter but only by a small amount, only coming up to just past Ambrose's thigh. Though while he was small, what of him there was seemed to be made entirely of muscle, being as nearly wide as he was tall. He sported a long salt and pepper beard that blended into his long hair of the same color, covering most of the front of the dark green tunic he wore.

  "Nice to meet you too." He said, shifting his freshly jarred shoulder. "Please come through to the camp." He led the two towards and down the partially completed path that led to their current living space.

  "I see you have been busy?" Rea said as they walked.

  "I thought we better get the place together for when the council representative shows up."

  "If there anything like the boy who traveled with us, you will have little difficulty intimidating them to get what you want." Shigrock said, with a bark of a laugh.

  As they arrived at the camp Trelen was their waiting.

  "Hi Trelen." Reabeck said with a wave.

  Seeing who it was their shoulders dropped as they relaxed. Though Ambrose did notice they kept their eyes locked onto the older dwarf.

  Shigrock walk forward and up to them. "You’re a Slovèi aren’t ya?"

  Trelen stiffened but nodded at the question.

  The dwarf considered them for a moment, before offering his hand. "Never met one of your lot before, nice to meet ya lad."

  Trelen took his hand and from the shocked look on their face was as surprised as Ambrose at the force of the greeting.

  "Pa, Trelen ain't a lad." Rea said, slightly embarrassed.

  "Oh, sorry lass." He said as he took his hand back.

  "Pa, no, that’s not what I-" Reabeck cut herself off as Gro-Lag emerged from his hut, looking confused and slightly annoyed. A look that quickly shifted to panic as he saw Reabeck.

  "Are the orders due now? I thought I had more time?" He asked quickly.

  She raised her hand in a gesture to calm him. "No Gro, you still have a fair few days left, calm down."

  At the mention of his name, Shigrock turned and pointed at the goblin. "Ah so your Gro-Lag, the one who my daughter has been using to further her fraud."

  Gro-Lag looked at him, his mouth slightly open as the dwarf approached him.

  "When Reabeck admitted to me that her recent success was off the work of another, I assumed she had a master craftsmen locked in the cellar, or perhaps her bedroom." The older dwarf said, side eyeing his daughter.

  Reabeck's normally pale skin turned a bright shade of red at her father’s comment, and she let a noise that Ambrose could only describe as a muted squeal.

  "But when she told me it was a goblin who had only been making runes for just over a moon’s turn, well…" He threw his hands up in amazement. "I just had to meet him." He walked closer and offer his hand. "It is an honor to meet such a natural artist."

  Gro-Lag stared for a moment before accepting the handshake. "I, ah, thank you?"