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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Internal-Ad6147 on 2025-06-26 16:41:15+00:00.
Talvan and the others finally reached the base of the mountain where Dustworf was located. A zigzagging dirt path wound its way up the steep cliffside—the only route to the town. With burning legs and labored breaths, they began the climb.
“Why did they build a town up here?” Leryea wheezed, struggling for air.
Revy, walking beside her, gave a tired chuckle. “I think it’s because they wanted to be closer to the ore veins in the mountain, y’know. But with the main road still closed, I guess they’re just living up here out of habit.”
Leryea leaned heavily on her staff, as if it could keep her from face-planting on the stone path.
“Well,” Talvan said, scanning the sleepy-looking village at the top, most of it was carv into the montan side.
“let’s find a place to rest and ask around.”
They found a group of dwarves drinking and chatting around a weathered barrel that served as a table. The laughter was loud, the mugs were full, and the talk was all about one thing.
“The dragon,” Talvan whispered, then stepped forward. “Sorry to interrupt—are you talking about a dragon?”
One of the dwarves, a broad fellow with a braided beard and soot-stained shirt, squinted at him. “Outsiders, huh?”
“Yeah,” Talvan said. “We just got into town. We couldn’t help overhearing.”
“Ahh, no harm in listenin’.” The dwarf grinned, sloshing his drink. “Aye, lad, we were talkin’ about that dragon. Most interestin’ thing to happen around here since Old Jim stubbed his toe on that cursed anvil.”
Revy walked up beside Talvan, curious. “Can you tell us what happened?”
The dwarf leaned in, his voice dropping just a bit. “Strangest thing I ever saw. Looked more jumpy than a cat in a thunderstorm—it was skittish, real twitchy. Took a step back even when the mayor approached, and he was in his full steam-knight armor.”
The other dwarf chimed in, chuckling. “But the lad with it—never seen someone like him. Nerves of steel. Just walked right up to the mayor and said, ‘Hello.’ Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.”
“I’ve seen soldiers with less backbone than that mail carrier,” the first dwarf added, raising his mug. “Brazen as a hammer to the face.”
After they left the dwarves to their drinking, the group walked in thoughtful silence. The mention of the dragon lingered.
Despite its size, despite its power… the dragon had been skittish. Nervous. It didn’t match the old stories—tales of dragons that showed no fear, even as they took their final breath. Creatures that always carried that fire of defiance—or raw engagement—in their eyes.
Revy was the first to break the silence. “I’ve got a theory.”
Talvan raised an eyebrow. “Let’s hear it.”
“That dragon,” she said, “was in hiding for at least twenty years. Maybe longer.”
Leryea blinked. “Hiding? A dragon?”
“From rune gear.” Revy's voice dropped. “It killed hundreds during the Kinder Wars”. What if the survivors learned to fear us? What if that’s what we saw?”
Talvan gave a small nod, murmuring, “Might be a good thing…”
“It would explain a lot,” Revy went on. “The odd behavior. The way people saw it kept its head low. If it believes any random person might be able to kill it… wouldn’t that change how it acts?”
Leryea frowned. “Not necessarily.”
They looked at her.
“Fear doesn’t always lead to caution,” she said softly. “Sometimes… it leads to desperation. And we all know what scared creatures do.”
Her gaze turned distant.
“They try to destroy whatever scares them. And who knows what a scared dragon would do.”
As they approached the mayor’s home, Talvan stepped forward and gave the door a firm knock.
“Hello?” he called. “We’re looking to speak with the mayor.”
A few moments passed before the door creaked open, revealing a stocky dwarf with a blood-red beard and a jagged scar where one of his eyes used to be. He gave them a long, assessing once-over, arms crossed and unimpressed.
“Well now,” the dwarf rumbled, his voice gravelly with age and ale. “arms crossed and unimpressed. For a moment, he said nothing. Then—
'Flamebreakers, eh? You’ve got that air about you.”
His good eye narrowed at Talvan’s blade.
“And that fancy weapon on your hip—I’ve seen steel like that before. Ain’t cheap, and sure as hell ain’t from around here.”
Talvan gave a polite nod. “Yeah… that’s us.”
The dwarf snorted. “Figures. You lot walk like you’ve seen war, and carry yourselves like you’re not done with it yet. Come in, then. I reckon you’re not just here for tea.”
As the group stepped inside, the dwarf motioned for them to sit.
“I’m Boarif, son of Doarif,” he said, thumping his chest in the old dwarven way. “Mayor of Dustworf… more or less.”
Talvan offered a small bow. “I’m Talvan. The mage is Revy, and this is Leryea.”
Boarif gave them a long look—sharp enough to freeze bone. “Lad, you’re not here to hunt that dragon, are you?”
Talvan tensed. “We still need to track her. Understand what we’re dealing with.”
Boarif’s eye narrowed. “She’s not like the others. That one… she shared a table with me and my wife. You know what kind of honor that is? For a dwarf to share a meal with you?”
Revy raised a brow. “For a dragon to accept? That’s unhered of.”
Boarif gave a slow nod. “Aye. At first, we thought it’d be like the old stories—a monster come to burn the world. Fire and ruin. But she wasn’t like that.”
“I’ve known dragons,” he said after a pause, tapping the scar over his ruined eye. “Lost this to one—over a hundred and twenty years ago. I hated ‘em for most of my life.”
He looked away for a breath, then back at them.
“But Sivares… she’s different. Mark my words.”
Leryea spoke up next, her voice cautious but firm. “It’s not just the dragon. The magemice are leaving Honiewood.”
Boarif’s brow furrowed, the red in it darkening like storm clouds. “You sure about that?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “And as you can guess, to get here, we had to cross Thornwood. Ran into some giant spiders along the way—bad ones. The mice said more are planning to come here for shelter.”
Boarif sat back in his chair, stroking his beard. “Hmph. That’s a bad sign. The magemice leaving their burrows… They’ve only done that twice in history. Once before the Kender Wars. And once during the Red Blight.”
“Still,” he added, glancing toward the window, “if they come, they’ll find a place here. Dustworf may be carved into stone, but our doors stay open.”
“Well, not like we can leave,” Leryea muttered. “The only road’s still blocked by the landslide, and Thornwood is crawling with those spiders.”
Boarif gave them a long look. “I won’t help you track the dragon,” he said firmly. “But you’ve been straight with me—so I’ll lend a hand.”
He moved over to a nearby desk, rummaging through a pile of scrolls and maps. “Here we go.” He unrolled a worn parchment and slid it across the table. “This’ll take you through the mine tunnels. Come out the other side, head west about twenty bars, and you’ll hit a small town called Baubel. I recon from there, and you head home.”
“Twenty bars?” Revy asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Dwarven measure,” Boarif explained. “We mostly use it for tunnel lengths. That’s about twelve miles.”
Talvan gave a small nod. “Thank you, Boarif. For being honest with us.”
“Aye, well—unlike you tallfolk, always dancin’ around the truth, I like to keep things straight from the start.”
As the group stepped out of the home and into the cool mountain air, Revy gave a small shrug. “Well, we still don’t have any real leads.”
“We might find something in Baubel,” Talvan said, tucking the map under his arm.
Leryea glanced to the sky. “But the dragon… Sivares, was it? She’s still out there.”
“And if she’s moving,” Revy added, “we’ll need to move faster.”
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Damon stepped out into the crisp morning air, taking a deep breath. Nothing beat the smell after a night of rain—fresh, clean, like the whole world had hit reset. The sun was already up, casting golden rays across the drying puddles.
From inside his shirt collar, Keys poked her tiny head out. “You think Sivares will come back?”
Damon stretched his arms overhead, back popping with a satisfying crack. He glanced toward the horizon. “Sure she will,” he said with a quiet chuckled. “But for once… we’ve got a little time.”
As he walked along the edge of the square, Keys climbed up to perch on his shoulder, eyes wide as she looked around. “This is the biggest city I’ve ever been in.”
Damon snorted. “This? This isn’t even a city.”
“What?” Keys blinked. “Really?”
“Homblom’s just a trading town—kind of a halfway stop between three actual cities. Avagron, Bolrmont, and Ulbma. Now those are cities. Especially Avagron—it’s the capital.”
Keys tilted her head. “That the one with the royal family?”
“Yep,” Damon said. “Their castle’s built right in the middle of a giant lake. Looks like it’s floating.”
Her eyes sparkled. “I want to see it.”
“Me too,” Damon admitted. “Never been myself.”
They walked in silence for a moment, the morning calm stretching around them.
But in both of their hearts, a quiet ember of excitement had already been lit.
The two of them wandered through town for a bit, taking in the sights. At one of the stalls, Damon used a bit of his small change to buy a...
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