St Chaos Healer

Ch 97 - A Fellow Cargo

The grand halls of the Dwarven Guild were a marvel of craftsmanship, with every inch of the stone walls adorned with intricate carvings and glowing runes. The air was thick with the scent of molten metal and the hum of adventurers, but as Luc and I walked through the corridors, the atmosphere shifted.

All eyes turned to us—dwarven adventurers gazed with a mix of curiosity and thinly veiled resentment. The entire hall was built to dwarven proportions, featuring low ceilings, narrow doorways, and staircases that forced Luc and me to duck and shuffle awkwardly. It was a constant reminder that we were outsiders in this place.

Sestia led the way, her grip on her spear firm and her expression unreadable. Behind her, Lord Jaltar moved with the confidence of a ruler, his sharp eyes occasionally flicking toward Luc with a glint of something unspoken. I trailed behind, feeling like a fish out of water, my unease growing with every step.

When we finally reached Jaltar's private chamber, the heavy doors shut behind us with a resounding thud, sealing us inside. The guards remained stationed outside, leaving only Jaltar, Sestia, Luc, and me in the room. The office was spacious but cluttered, filled with maps, scrolls, and strange artifacts that gleamed under the light of glowing crystals embedded in the walls.

Jaltar stepped forward, his sharp eyes fixed on Luc. For a moment, the room was silent, the tension palpable. Then, to my utter shock, the dwarven lord suddenly grinned and opened his arms.

Without hesitation, Luc mirrored the gesture, and the two embraced like long-lost brothers.

"It's good to see you, Sir Luc," Jaltar said warmly, his voice carrying a note of genuine affection.

Luc chuckled, his tone light and easy. "And you seem to be in fine health, Lord Jaltar."

Sestia and I exchanged bewildered glances. Whatever we had expected, this certainly wasn't it. The tension in the room evaporated, replaced by an almost casual camaraderie.

Jaltar pulled back, frowning slightly. "Please," he said, waving a hand dismissively, "there's no need to call me 'Lord.' You are our savior. Formalities are unnecessary."

Luc smirked, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Come now, it was a one-time thing. I only protected you because of your father's orders. I'm surprised you even remember me."

Jaltar let out a dry laugh, the sound echoing in the chamber. "Forget? How could I? The day you hunted down those bandits is burned into history. Even now, your name still strikes fear into people's hearts. Dwarven mothers still warn their children—'If you misbehave, the Merchant of Death will come for you.'"

Luc scoffed, shaking his head. "That's just cruel. You make me sound like some evil boogeyman."

Sestia, who had been standing silently with her arms crossed, finally spoke up, her voice laced with skepticism. "Tales are just exaggerated nonsense. I still don't see what makes this human so special."

Jaltar's expression darkened, his tone sharp as he turned to her. "Hush, Sestia! He is an honored guest—"

Luc raised a hand, cutting him off. "It's alright." He turned to Sestia, his smirk returning. "I like your feisty dwarven women. Someone who isn't afraid of the crude title, let her be."

Sestia clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing as she shot Luc a glare, but she held her tongue. I could see the frustration in her posture, the way her fingers tightened around her spear. She clearly didn't trust Luc, and I couldn't blame her. There was something about him—something unnerving, even if he seemed harmless enough now.