Over two hours Ren had told his story. The dwarven chiefs asked only a handful of questions, opting to just sit there and listen to his tale. It was both one of triumph and sorrow.

  His tale was one part triumph for he had survived. Few could have lived the trials he had been pushed through. To survive being imprisoned by the clerics, to survive the Underdark, and to befriend the orks. To slay a dragon was a victory none amongst the dwarves would not have believed if not for their utter conviction that every word he spoke was true. If not for the magic that bound Ren to only speak true, the dwarves would have branded him a liar.

  The tale was also one part of sorrow for everything he had lost along the way. To lose himself in memory by the hand of his patron, and to lose himself differently when his power killed the two clerics down below the monastery. Ren lost another part of himself within the Underdark where inadvertently his coming had brought the goblins faith, faith that led them to exterminate the humans remaining down in the depths. The last part of his story that had given sorrow was his loss. Not the loss of his memories, nor the loss of himself. It was the loss of Cella, his only ally within a deep and grimdark world he had been thrown into.

  As Ren finished speaking, the dwarves sat in long silence before the head of the thirteen spoke. The richly adorned Haldrin spoke. “Loss nor victory are ideas lost to the hearts of dwarves.”

  Ren looked up from the table as Haldrin spoke again after a pause. “We do hear you, and know your truth. You have denied the one who has sent you here, shed the mantle laid across your shoulders. We may be able to aid you in your plight, though we cannot tell you how to slay a dead God.”

  Ren looked into Haldrin’s eyes and spoke. “So, you don’t want to kill me for what I am?”

  “No, I do believe you could be a threat, though speaking in absolute truth you have denied with passion your patron. We may be able to aid you in usurping the power you have for yourself. It would of course take time and a great deal of resources. So in return, we shall ask of you a favor.”

  “What do you need from me? I am far weaker than any of your warriors, and my knowledge of this world is little.”

  “If we aid you in taking the power of your patron for yourself, and help you in healing the amber heart, we will require you to help us in reopening the mithril mines. On a mountain West of here, a lost city lies deep underneath the surface much like it does here. For an eon, it has been lost to us. A dragon dwells within its depths bathing in molten mithril in the great forage. The under-mountain here is nothing compared to what we lost. If we aid you, we need a promise that your power will be used as a vital weapon to break through the dragon’s hide.”

  “I’ve done it once, but it nearly killed me to summon the power to kill a dragon. I don’t know if I can do it again. If you can help me heal my amber heart, and take the power of my patron as you said, I will do everything I can to help you.”

  “Then let it be agreed upon, I Haldrin, head of the thirteen clan chiefs and chief of the mithril’s home, pledge to aid you.”

  “I Ren, will aid you in slaying your dragon when my power has grown great enough and I have healed by amber heart.”

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  “Then let us feast.” Haldrin smiled as the dwarves around him began to eat at their great meals.

  Ren looked down at the food before him. It was unfamiliar and smelled of odd spices. He began to eat as he remembered the large mugs at every seat. Swallowing a bite of richly spiced vegetables, he went to wash it down with a drink.

  Taking a large gulp, Ren felt a rush come to his face as he realized it was a variety of ale. It was lightly sweetened with a tartness to it. The taste was far from familiar as it was likely made of some odd subterranean plant.

  The meal only lasted ten minutes, as the dwarves ate surprisingly fast for such small people. Though, what they lacked in height was made up for with a broad and powerful build. Their mugs empty and their plates likewise, they turned their eyes to Ren. Unaware, Ren was delicately sipping the drink while looking at it as it slightly bubbled. The taste began to grow on him as he took a large swig.

  “Now that the feast is done with,” Spoke one of the dwarves to Haldrin’s side. “I am Runto, son of Runir, chief of the roots. It is my honor to bring you to the ritualist’s quarter where you can be aided. Another group will work with your weapons to make sure they are worthy to be carried in a dwarf’s home.”

  Ren nodded. “Thank you, though my weapons do carry a story behind them, so please keep good care of them.”

  Runto smiled, the dwarf was white-bearded and portly compared to the others. “I am sure that our craftsmen will take good care of your weapons.”

  Ren finished drinking his ale before setting down the mug. Even with his ascended body, he was still able to feel the effects of a mug of ale. No doubt the dwarves had specialty brews for those who ascend to new levels of power. Ren was solidly in his second ascendancy, and by the time he made his third it was unlikely such a drink would affect him at all.

  Runto stood and guided Ren. The guards departed as they were deemed no longer necessary as Ren was not a threat. Only Borrin followed as Noc left to return to his duties.

  Runto led Ren back into the four-way segmented hall that the staircase entered into. From there, they headed towards the housing hall. It was nothing too grand, as the dwarves preferred the stone to speak for itself. Cravings and delicately worked stone were the greatest of the finery, though clan and family banners still draped across every door.

  The walk was long, taking far longer than Ren had expected. They walked miles underground through various housing quarters within the great hall. It was not until they reached a great archway on the right side of the great hall that they turned and left the housing hall.

  Another long path led them to a great building that appeared nearly religious in its craft. There were no religious buildings to be seen in the under mountain yet, though it was such like a temple.

  “Here is the home of our ritualists.” Runto looked at Ren and smiled. “You may have to spend a good deal of time here, so make yourself comfortable. I will go speak with them to tell them of your arrival. They know nothing of you yet, besides Trun who did your reading.”

  Ren awaited Runto’s return as he left to go speak with the ritualists. Borrin beside him waited patiently.

  Looking at Ren, Borrin touched his beard. “As the first of us to introduce ourselves to you, I will stay at your side until you are ready to be on your own. Navigating the ritualists is no easy task, so I will help you understand their oddness.”

  “The ritualist who did my reading, he wouldn’t speak, and we couldn’t speak around him?”

  “When the ritualists work, it is best to leave them in a state of absolute focus. The calculations they are doing within their minds, it is no easy feat. I will show you how to deal with them. They are strange at times, I feel bad for poor old Runto right now.” Borrin laughed at the thought of Runto, the large dwarf in charge of the kitchens and food production trying to communicate with the odd ritualists.

  Together Ren and Borrin stood watching and awaiting the return of Runto.