They had ended up covering quite the ground, even moving a little further towards the south of the goblin camp where they encountered more wild beasts. They aimed to check the ruins on the way to see if there had been any changes, Lance's idea. The place was the same as they had seen it last.
By the end of the day, they had used up more energy than originally planned, and everyone was exhausted. After they came back to the camp and had something to eat, Lance and Lia fell asleep soon after.
The next morning, though, didn't allow for much luxury to sleep in. Tension grew as a group of dwarves marched into the clearing near the goblin camp, prompting the goblins to raise an alarm, waking most of them, Lia and Lance included.
The dwarves' boots thudded against the ground, their armor clinking with each purposeful step. At the head of the group was a stout, barrel-chested figure with a bushy red beard and piercing eyes that scanned the camp like a hawk.
Lance stood at the centre of the camp, flanked by Rikka and Tharok. Zarra lingered in the shadows, her scouts ready to intervene if things escalated.
"Lance," Tharok muttered, his tone uneasy, "those are my kin."
"Oh? Why didn't you say so sooner? Good," Lance replied, keeping his voice calm as relief came over him. He really wasn't looking forward to having a death battle so early in the morning after a stressful day just a day before. "Then, maybe this will go smoothly."
Rynne snorted. "You don't know dwarves."
…
The dwarves stopped a few feet away, their leader stepping forward. He fixed his gaze on Tharok, his expression a mix of relief and irritation.
"There ye are, ya stubborn old smith!" the dwarf bellowed, his voice deep and commanding. "What in the blazes are ye doin' with goblins? Have ya gone mad?"
Tharok stepped forward, crossing his arms. "Good to see you too, Grannik. And no, I haven't gone mad. I've found myself in… interesting company."
"Interesting?" Grannik scoffed, his sharp eyes sweeping over the goblins in the camp. "The elves said you were here, but I didn't believe it. Yet here you are, keepin' company with wild beasts!"
The dwarves behind him shifted uneasily, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons. The goblins appeared just as irritated as the dwarves, ready for any situation. If not for the well armoured dwarves and their reliable looking gears, the goblins might have already attacked without command even.
Lance stepped forward, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm Lance," he said, his tone steady. "Ruler of this tribe. Tharok is here of his own free will. We mean no harm to him… or to you."
Grannik's eyes narrowed, putting behind the sloppy and slow manner in which Lance spoke. "A human leadin' goblins. Now I've seen it all. What's yer game, lad? Why keep a dwarf in a place like this?"
"He has chosen to stay of his own volition…" Lance explained, when one of the dwarves behind Grannik spat on the ground, his face scrunching up in disgust, "filthy animals…"
Rikka who understood the words and didn't share the same patience in that moment as the rest, couldn't take the constant insult. Before anyone could grasp what was going on, she dashed forward, lunging at the dwarf who spoke with a swing to his head.
The dwarf remained composed as she attacked, side stepping her attack while countering with a low swing of his own using his war harmer that had a smaller build for speed. He used the side that looked like a pickaxe, but narrowly missed as Rikka dodged the swing.
She moved swiftly, sweeping the dwarf off his feet, or at least attempting to, but she only managed to make him shift forward a bit as her leg hit against his from behind… this particular dwarf was just extra short, and his centre of gravity was extra reinforced.
A murderous glint appeared in their eyes as they both moved with almost blinding speed, their weapons aimed at each other's head.
In the blink of an eye, one of the dwarves appeared between Rikka and the other dwarf, stopping their attacks with his hands, forced to his knee by the force from them. "Enough, you two." He said.
The dwarf was going to retort, but a single look from the kneeling dwarf shut him up, and he withdrew his harmer with a snort.
Rikka withdrew her blade with a snort, seemingly angrier than she originally was. If the dwarf hadn't stepped in to stop the exchange, she would have definitely died or come out seriously injured… she was slower.
"Grannik! Will you control your men?!" Tharok interjected, his tone sharp. "I don't answer to you anymore, remember that. I chose to stay here by myself, not because I was forced. These goblins, this human; they're tryin' to change, and I'm helpin' them do it."
'What is he on about now?' Lance questioned in his mind, but decided to let it play out for the time being.
The other dwarves exchanged uneasy glances, clearly unsure of how to respond.
Grannik's eyes squinted, weighing his choices it seemed. Finally, he sheathed his weapon, folding his arms. "I don't believe you have chosen this place out of sympathy. Tell me, what's your true reason?"
Tharok relaxed a little, "you are indeed correct." He said, looking over to Kaeli who was standing near her forge with her arms crossed.
"And who's that?" Grannik asked.
"That," Tharok said with a smirk, "is one of the finest talents I've ever seen."
Grannik's brows furrowed as he studied kaeli for a moment, then under Tharok's guidance, approached the forge, inspecting the weapons and tools scattered around. He picked up a sleek blade, turning it over in his hands.
"This is… fine work," he muttered, clearly impressed despite himself. "But surely it's yer handiwork, Tharok?"
Kaeli snorted. "Not a chance, old-timer. That's all me."
Grannik's eyes widened, his expression a mix of disbelief and admiration. "A goblin made this? Impossible."
"Believe it," Tharok said, grinning. "Kaeli's got more talent than most smiths I've met. And with a bit of guidance, she'll surpass even me."
"So that is your true reason for staying her? Must have gotten bored of your old routines… Tell me, Tharok, is this truly the reason? Or are you hoping for something else?"
Tharok pondered on Grannik's words briefly, "does it matter? Either way, it is for the best."
"And what do the elves think of this?!" Grannik asked, his voice clearly audible, and his tone cautious.
As if on cue, the lead elven scout from the previous encounter stepped out of the trees, his movements silent and graceful. His piercing green eyes locked onto Lance, and his lips curled into a faint sneer.
"I think," the elf said, his tone cold, "that this is a dangerous endeavour. Goblins with weapons of dwarven quality? It's a recipe for disaster."