The Prodigies: The Return of Equinox

Chapter Thirty-One: Fated - Principle Lies

There they were. The four of them. Garvhoz, Alegna, Core, Noromac. Militant, Ranger, Magic, Jack. They were nearing the valley they would need to fight the Quillian in. Before they they would make their last leg of the trip they stopped at a town that was built about half a day's worth of travel away.

As they rode in they found that even though they were all quite rare sights, they fit in quite well. They saw quite the mixing pot of people in the small frontier town that laid before them. Some dwarves, a gray or two, quite a few of the people from the newly annexed kingdom were down here too. They were quite pleased that they would have an easy time blending in.

As they approached an inn they couldn't believe that none had asked them of their travels or reasons for being here. Garvhoz got off his horse and stretched before entering the inn to ask the price for board. The others agreed that they should let Garvhoz do the talking. Core and Alegna didn't feel confident of their knowledge or care for human customs, and Noromac couldn't be bothered to do it. Luckily for Noromac, Garvhoz had jumped to be the spokesman of their group.

Garvhoz entered the inn and found the establishment to be of dwarven ownership. He hadn't met a dwarf before, but he felt confident that he would do just fine. After all, the dwarves had gifted the mountain that the demigod Gorund created his standing on. The military and dwarves should be very appreciative of each other.

"Hail, owner of the establishment!" Said Garvhoz. "I would like three rooms please." Garvhoz stood in front of a reception desk. He looked around to see who would greet him.

"Of course, be right there!" Called a voice from out of his view.

"Thank you, I appreciate the service." Garvhoz stood there and gazed to the walls instead. There weren't many decorations to speak of. There weren't any at all. Except for a banner that hung on a wall that had a simplified helmeted head on it. The style of the helm was so clearly dwarven in that it had a no comb, a thick visor with one line across it, and short on the front to show an exposed jaw. He couldn't remembered if it was for better communication or for the freedom of the hair on their chins.

"Nevermind, get out now." Said the voice that called out earlier.

"Excuse me?" Garvhoz turned to find a regular man. He could not help but show his surprise. "Sorry, but if you could te-"

"I said get out now!" The voice called again, but it was not the man that said it. Garvhoz heard some footsteps and saw a dwarven head step up over the counter. "We don't serve military. Just against principle."

"Why?" Garvhoz wasn't as mad as he was genuinely curious. "Have we wronged you?"

"I still remember the look of my gramp's face when he told me the story of why my people don't live in the Great Mountain. I can't forgive that wrong done to him."

"Exc-"

"GET OUT!" The dwarf threw a shoe at him. Garvhoz caught it faster than the two could realize that he moved his arm.

"Look. Whatever may have befallen your family I wholeheartedly apologize. If you allow, i will pay a higher price to board here if it would atone for even one day of misery that had befallen your grandfather." By then, the dwarf and the man, who had both stood tall and intimidating, were quite intimidated of his speed. Though the dwarf was a man of his word and ideals, he knew that this was not something that would go his way with a few loud words and elbow grease.

"Do you want to know what it was?"

"Um, sure."

"Well, as you know the mountain that Gorund created his standing army on used to belong to the dwarves."

"Of course."

"The story goes that Gorund asked for the mountains for a great cause and through understanding of the situation the dwarves gave it up and moved somewhere else. But that is not what happened." Garvhoz had already lost trust in the dwarves words. He clearly didn't know what he was talking to.

"How so?" Asked Garvhoz. He crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one leg. He stood there, showing that believed the story to be bullshit.

"Gorund stole the mountain. He came to the mountain and gave my people two hours to leave else he would slay all who weren't on their way." This answer shocked Garvhoz. He hadn't heard this one before. He had read that his military actions drive out the dwarves because the military was pushing for more and more room. He read that the dwarves and Gorund came to a mutual understanding and that land was set aside for them. He read that he had challenged them to a feat of strength and beat them, intimidating them away. He hadn't heard of this one before.

"I think you may remember wrong."

"Are you saying that the mind of stone that my grandfather had was wrong? That when he was a young dwarf on the cusp of being on his own he was threatened with his life to leave his home was incorrect? That all the dwarves left the mountain on the whim of a human of all things. No, they were threatened with very real and gruesome death."

"How old are you then? If you're the grandson."

"I am a spry 112 years old. I'm just about the top of the hill. My grandfather was 276 when he finally died, and 60 years old when he was turned refugee."

"What? How long do dwarves live?"

"About 280 years for the long living ones. Why hadn't your military taught you that?"

"We don't have dwarven enemies, and how long they live doesn't matter if we kill them."

"Sensible."

"Yes, but why do you lie about Gorund."

"Who is he to you?" Garvhoz couldn't answer. He didn't really know what Gorund was. A hero, a father figure, or relative? An idol? An ideal? He wasn't so sure anymore. "Are you going to leave or not?"

"No, we must board here. We have business in the nearby valley."

"That accursed place? You must be the third group that I've seen go down. I'm sure you won't be the last. Not one has made it back alive you know. I hope you've made what peace you could before you came here."

"We will see about that."

"If you stay you must pay double. For each room."

"That is fine."