Bloody Chalice

Trianna had grown tired of the clanging of hammers and the screeching of sawing metals. She wasn't alone. The sound grated on the soul, besides making it impossible to sleep. It drowned out the sound of nature, the usual clamor of people. Even stars looked duller because of it.

The beautiful cosmic clouds that bathed the night sky didn't sparkle in multicolor, quite the same with the sound of metal on metal playing in the background—a war against Magical nature. She had gone out to watch them, hoping to stave off sleepless boredom without much success.

They used steel-threaded saws to cut blood metal from Theodore's shrike trees. Pilling stacks upon stack for later use, all while forging what was harvested.

The Varden's smiths worked without rest to make blades, armor, and steel-lined shields for Varden soldiers. They were perhaps the only ones happy to be up. Despite their ungodly hours, they never tired of working blood steel.

The smiths exclaimed that the metal was divine, malleable when heated, and strong and flexible when cooled. They said it was impossible to have so many good qualities, many conflicting. Trianna could only guess that all magical steel was such. Though she wished she knew more about it.

The only thing Trianna was sure of was that Varden soldiers were happy. The gold coin Nasuada had made until now, shamelessly using Du Vrangr Gata's lace, hadn't been nearly enough to buy the steel necessary for full mail before. Many had died because piecemeal armor was all they had available.

Trianna threw the cover off in prickling frustration at the thought of Nasuada, but it faded as she remembered Theodore's face lit under the full moon. His hand as it touched her cheek, the warmth of her skin on his. Trianna felt her attention lapse from lack of sleep. Her anger was forgotten over the clanging of steel.

Already, so much had changed since Theodore left. Men replaced pig iron swords with red-tinted steel or amber blades. Many of them wear a lightning emblem over newly forged armor. It wasn't official, just something painted over their armor during their spare time. She had told him some of it through the messages he sent.

The lightning bolt had become a symbol for Theodore. It wasn't only armor. It clad. Many had flags and banners made and hung outside tents—all for their potential champion against the black king, their new hope.

Trianna smiled as she thought of Nasuada's reaction when their champion would take the reins of leadership. Trianna personally hoped the bitch drowned before she realized what was coming, and she knew the time was coming soon.

Theodore had mentioned expanding his influence in the messages he had left her recently. It seems something had changed among the dwarves. Her wizard was preparing for war. Trianna had reassured him that such a thing wouldn't be difficult. The sorceress knew how quickly people could turn.

Before, Nasuada's army thought themselves hopeless martyrs against the black king, and now? A new and mysterious stranger with too much power made them think they might have a chance. It wasn't difficult to see what they would choose.

Trianna stared lazily at her tent's flimsy ceiling, flapping up and down in the gentle breeze, giving up any hope of sleep.

Just yesterday, one of Nasuada's generals, Bodil, firmly supported the Thunderer during a war meeting for the next offensive.

His fellow commanders agreed.

They supported the foreign wizard as their best chance against the black king and mob of Empire soldiers. Their competence wouldn't allow them to abandon their understanding of logistics. They said as much. They prided themselves on their honesty, too.

The final battle tally showed that Theodore had killed no less than ten thousand soldiers alone. Such a number hadn't surprised Trianna. She was there. That was likely an underselling of the number caused by chaos, but even Eragon wasn't even half as effective.

Nasuada openly gaped at Theodore's kill count spoken so plainly. It hadn't lasted long, barely a second in truth, but Trianna could see the panic on her face.

Trianna sat up, resting her face in her hands, letting them cover her eyes. The clanging continued, returning her to reality, where she still couldn't sleep. Trianna had tried to use magic to silence it, but such magic wasn't sustainable. It drew vast swathes of energy from her and could even kill her as she slept.

There were other ways to deafen yourself, but they all came with risks. Trianna didn't dare to be brave. Even with Zeus protecting her tent's entrance, Trianna would feel vulnerable if she could not hear someone sneaking into her tent.

Fear and hammer-pounding steel brought her thoughts back to Theodore. She wished he was here now to distract her from the noise. She could picture it now. He would be stoic and demanding before falling for her feminine wiles. The sex would be amazing, she was sure, but that wasn't the only thing that drew her thoughts to him. She liked their conversations. The unimaginable was made comfortable in one of his tales.

She imagined talking with him about magic and learning more about his country. It was almost a dream to hear about such strange lands. About witches, wizards, wands, and magic different from anything she had ever seen.

She projected herself in some of Theodore's stories about his school that taught magic, the thunderbirds that could call a storm. Birds of fire that held immortality. Magical goblets that held the strangest of effects. The thought of magical knowledge given freely had her almost frothing at the mouth with rabid hunger when she first heard it. She felt pangs of that hunger now.

Trianna found herself sighing in masochistic torture. Imagining things that couldn't be wasn't practical. It wasn't her. Trianna knew she didn't have time to go to a foreign land to learn magic that might not work for her. It didn't stop her from wanting to. Magic was power. It was a mysterious thing that decided if one lived or died. It could make one rich beyond imagination or even solve aging. The fantasy of more of it or even different magic was immensely absorbing.

Then she heard the clanging again and was pulled back to reality.

The sorceress stood up from her cold bed and equipped herself with her daily gear. She wore a white satin cloak over fine black leather armor, a mix of beauty and practicality. She sheathed a blood steel dagger to her side and carefully fitted her gold snake bracelet on her right hand. Trianna could feel a protective warmth as it hugged her wrist.

Parting the tent entrance, she was blinded by the sudden light before hearing a playful growl. Zeus somehow got larger since she had gotten to know him. His gray fur lined against the morning sun gave him a sleek shine of inviolable power. His silver mane looked like a sea of blades, their gleaming edges sliding together in a dizzying dance as the lion yawned. That should have made the lion menacing, yet somehow, Trianna felt it made the big cat look cute.

Then he turned those bright blue eyes to her, and Trianna could taste ozone in the air. Trianna couldn't resist petting him. She scratched behind his massive ear in a soft spot that Trianna knew would make him purr, and to her satisfaction, it worked.

The giant lion was like kitten putty in her hands, giving her a rush of endorphins as he closed his eyes and gave a deep rumble in pleasure. Suddenly, she felt a little happy instead of tired.

Trianna walked into the morning rabble, noticing a crowd of exhausted faces. It seemed she hadn't been the only one who hadn't been able to sleep. Everyone had woken up grumpy.

Nasuada always subscribed to the policy of short-term pain for long-term gain. She had told everyone a slight noise was a small price to pay to save lives later. Trianna could appreciate her practicality even if she no longer respected the woman.

Her decision certainly hadn't made her many friends, but she was right. The Varden had thousands of men to outfit less than a month before the next battle. Forging weapons and armor took time.

The pain was a small price for protection and a sharp blade. Trianna pondered that idle thought as she walked purposefully through an aimless crowd of soldiers.

It didn't take long for Trianna to reach Du Vrangr Gata's tent or to find a short, one-armed blonde standing just outside. Their eyes met, and a hatred passed between them.

Those blue heart-seeking orbs had seen a thousand ways to kill her with a glance, and Trianna was well aware of that just as she knew Theodore ensured she could act on none of them; instead, her assassin could only help her.

That did not mean she was happy to see her still among the living.

Theodore told her that Frida stripped her naked and took her clothes, all to replace her. Revulsion didn't begin to describe how that made her feel.

"How did it go?" Trianna didn't ask so much as demanded. Frida was uncowed but not willful. She gave Trianna a demure look that drove Trianna to discomfort. The woman's normality was shocking for Trianna, especially after what she had done.

"Bodil has agreed. It seems the pro-human faction is done waiting."

"He has certainly made his independence obvious," Trianna thought of how he supported Theodore and how combative he had seemed. "What about the Inquisition? Has Arya been ousted." Trianna knew this was the most essential step to make the Inquisition truly Theodore's.

Frida grimaced or at least made an expression that could pass for it. The woman's emotions were muted compared to most.

"She refuses to leave without a direct order from Theodore or something written in his hands. She said something about ensuring it would maintain its rightful purpose. Any more talk of it seemed dangerous."

Trianna felt disappointed but wasn't surprised. Nasuada was too good a leader to allow such a force of men of ambiguous purpose free reign. Arya was nothing if not Nasuada's loyal hound. Trianna knew justification would have to be given. Sadly, there were no more spies to root out, and the elf was likely too powerfully entrenched to remove forcibly.

"Very well, she will have to wait. Has everyone arrived?"

Frida nodded and followed Trianna into the bowls of the Magician's tent.

Over thirty magicians walked around the tent, talking to each other. Each wore flowing robes or fine black leather armor, a uniform given as gifts made by their patrons' hands. All of them had blood metal daggers sheathed at their sides.

She greeted the most important of them by name. She found the four of them standing in a group, making small talk.

Annette, a middle-aged Magician, was among them, a powerful magician from Teirm. She had dark blue eyes and black hair with beautiful laugh lines that hid a secretly stern and strict woman underneath. The Teirm local had conservative ties, a deep understanding of magic's practical uses, and a good understanding of finances. She had been a merchant.

As well as the Stol brothers, best known for their in-depth magical knowledge, Vendal and Manis. Both had narrowly escaped Empire service after being born in the heart of Urû'baen. Both were similar in appearance, having supple skin and hands, azure eyes, sandy blonde hair, and handsome faces designed to express mischief. They weren't identical twins, however. Vendal was slightly taller than his younger brother, with a more aquiline nose, and was the more stoic of the two.

The two brothers had lost quite a bit of power in the group after Theodore had given his grimoires out. They only stayed ahead of Chaff through pure magical comprehension.

Finally, she paid her respects to Vizsla, a dark, powerful man from the Hadarac desert. With eyes like coal that could look at you with such intensity, you could only gawk at black marble-toned skin to avoid his eyes. He often spoke passionately about the Empire's injustice.

These four were her greatest allies and among the only wizards who opposed her removal. Trianna would have liked to have said she trusted them, but while she appreciated their loyalty, they were all snakes.

Except for Vizsla, the four supported her because they saw the bigger picture, not out of some so small as altruism. Trianna had no delusions about the reason behind their support. They needed her to get them their next fix—more power. Vizsla supported her because he didn't like change, but that seemed to be a certainty.

Trianna, leaving them, walked up to a small podium set up at the front of the tent. She leaned against a lectern and overheard two younger Du Vrangr Magicians talking to each other as she waited for his flock's attention.

A magician named Vani, who was short of black hair and black eyes, and Ramson, a new initiate to Du Vrangr Gata, who hadn't received a Grimior yet. They were of similar age and build, and from what she could hear, they were of equal power as Magicians, yet the two were having a particularly unpleasant conversation.

"Why can't you just show me how it is done then if it's so hard," Ramson asked, sounding very annoyed.

"Only those that carry grimoires or blood daggers can use Du Vrangr Gatta magic," Vani said, sounding all superior.

"But I am part of Du Vrangr Gatta," Said Ramson, sounding confused. The boy no doubt wondered what was so superior about Du Vrangr Gata's magic. Trianna, if asked, would say not much. The sheer amount crammed into Theodore's little guidebooks was impressive, though. Du Vrangr Gata stood apart from the other magicians of the Varden because of it.

Theodore's crafting and knowledge also gave them confidence and unity, which had been absent before. Their talent in magic had only made them rise faster with the resources provided. Especially the blood steel daggers, which by all accounts were hyper-effective. Trianna was told that with it, even Carn, one of their weakest practitioners, could efficiently perform spells that he had found difficult before.

Theodore's boon was much more compelling than he led on, and now all magicians guarded their daggers' jealousy, not in the least because the pommels all held precious gems coveted by all.

Trianna ignored any further conversation between the two magicians in favor of observing the rest of Du Vrangr Gata. Many would glance at her respectfully, but she could also sense disdain among her flock. This discontent was centered like a fog around one Magician in particular. One Magician whom Trianna particularly disliked: Gavin.

The older man was the Magician who incited the petition to Nasuada. All in the hopes that it might please Theodore. All so that he might gain his favor and learn more from him; Trianna honestly wasn't surprised it worked.

The man wielded politics like a toddler would a hammer, which was very effective. His lack-wit certainty was adequate in a crowd of many lost individualistic magicians. He had managed to wrangle and bully many of them into signing away her leadership not long after she had been captured.

He would have remained a minor nuisance if not for a particular Wizard's whirlwind of changes.

Theodore. Pleasure warred against anger as she thought of how he had screwed her over. His book had ensured the ability of all her magicians to educate themselves equally. It hadn't turned the cripled old magicians into a lion but had undoubtedly made Gavin a particularly troublesome hyena.

Trianna couldn't be angry with the wizard; nothing good would come of it, but Gavin was certainly fair game. She could have a burning hatred for him as well as revenge. Perhaps she would go for him when he least expected it, just like he did her.

"I believe it is time to get to the purpose of this meeting," Trianna spoke with as much authority as she could muster. Some Magicians turned to her to listen, and others continued their private conversations, content to ignore her.

Magicians didn't talk about interesting things. There was no adventuring for the Varden Magician, and many tried to avoid danger as much as possible, so they mostly talked about magic, its minor applications, what they had for breakfast, and what the weather was like.

It seemed to some of them that Trianna was less attractive than a ball of lint, which frustrated her. She made sure not to show it, and it was only a little, but she felt angry. How dare they ignore her, as she worked for their benefit. Snobs, the lot of them.

There was a time she had been unsure as the leader of Du Vrangr Gata when she wished her responsibilities would go away—that time had passed.

She had led these men and women for months now. She knew how to make them listen.

"I come before Du Vrangr Gata today to relay the order given me directly from Lord Lupin himself."

That made them stop chattering and made them attentive instead. A niggle of irritation at having to use his name erupted internally, but Trianna's expression remained unaffected. She managed to spot Tevon standing in the back, who gave her a kind smile and nodded encouragement. Trianna gave him a smile in return before continuing.

"Theodore Lupin has told me that Du Vragr Gata is still lacking in many things and has asked that we use the knowledge provided to us to become better magicians.

I have already given out daggers crafted by his hand, and with them, our esteemed wizarding leader believes that many of us will be able to use Tier II spells."

There was some gasping from the audience as the magicians who held Theodore's grimoires knew what such a thing meant. They had coveted such spells almost as soon as they heard of the category. Some hoped they would wield a power equal to Lord Lupin when finally able to use it. Trianna could only scoff at their ignorance knowing none could wield magics deep.

In Theodore's book, spells were split into two tiers to show what might kill a magician and what was technically still possible for a human alone. The spells had subcategories that dealt with subtlety and complexity, but only two tiers existed. Those that humans could still perform tier I and those that required an elf or secondary power sources were named tier II.

That bit about secondary sources of power had confused many Magicians when they read about it. Many even asked Theodore about it. The man had given an excellent lecture about how one could go about storing power in diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. A complete game changer for the weaker of Du Vrangr Gata, those with little to no reserves for magic.

The magicians of Du Vrangr Gata had been remarkably ignorant of vessels to store their magic. Many, in fact, never knew precious gems could hold any power at all. Those who did hide it as if it was some family secret, Thinking only of their advancement. Trianna, to her shame, had been one of them.

All who knew before foolishly thought that endless power could be attained with such methods. Theodore had quickly put such thoughts to rest. Now, magicians knew power could be stored, but even that had limits.

It all depended heavily on what was used. Rubies that were alone the cheapest of the precious stones wouldn't be enough for Tier II spells. Emeralds and sapphires had similar structural issues and were far more expensive. Diamonds might work, but Du Vrangr was not rich enough to afford such luxuries on their own. They were lucky to have such a good friend in Lord Lupin.

Trianna didn't know how Theodore gave Diamonds out like honeysuckles to everyone. Fitting such Diamonds so large into thirty daggers should have bankrupted even the richest of nobles, yet he did it so casually. Trianna supposed it only added to the mystery of the man.

There was palpable shock and excitement in the atmosphere at her announcement. Many magicians wanted to return to their tent to begin practicing immediately, but Trianna held her hand to stall them before they began to leave. A loud, feathery voice broke Through the murmur of the crowd. Trianna stifled a groan.

"We are thankful for the Diamonds Theodore has given us, but don't they require charging before they can be used for such intensive spells," Gavin said as he stole from his shock quicker than other magicians, his voice arrogant and overbearing.

Trianna looked at Gavin and glared at him until the old man looked away.

"That would be true if not for the fact these daggers were made with his magic. I'm sure many of you have noticed that when wielding the dagger, magic comes easier to you. I'm told the dagger deepens one's connection to magic. It has a multiplying effect on your efforts."

Many, having felt its effects, nodded along, quickly understanding the implications. The dagger had made all of them first-class magicians.

There were a lot of questions, and Trianna did her best to answer them. A scholarly debate erupted about how the daggers worked. The magicians of Du Vrangr Gata were still ignorant of Theodore's magic, but many used information from Theodore's grimoires to talk about magic in a way they never had before.

The Stol brothers began arguing about power expenditures and the relationship between the diamond pommel and the dagger's function. Some even joined the debate, weighing in on whether or not putting magic in its diamond pommel would upscale its effects.

Annette weighed in that filling the Gem would likely not affect the dagger enchantment but was better used as an alternate source of power to draw from. Manis seemed to disagree with her talking about the magical law of attraction that magic drew more magic, drawing upon the section in the Grimiour that spoke about the interactions of magic reservoirs.

At some point, Gavin chipped in again and began leading a conversation about how they should use such magic. Trianna smiled, glad the man had brought up something useful for once.

"Theodore wants his magician to be prepared to secure his influence." Trianna let her voice thicken with menace so her meaning would be clear.

Gavin seemed to shift uncomfortably after she spoke. His opportunistic nature seemed to prickle at protecting anyone's interests other than his own. Trianna could see he wasn't the only one. Many had caught the implications of what she had just said. Magicians could always smell a coupe; it's why they abandoned her so quickly. Their feared nature gave them a prey mentality.

A few would snivel and hide when the time came to act, but many understood there were two sides: those that held the sword and those with a sharp blade at their neck. The Varden would become Theodore's, or it would die trying to stop him. Everyone would eventually follow him. They didn't know it yet.

Trianna glanced at Tevon and was disappointed to see that he was one of those who would snivel. He looked at the ground, his eyes filled with fear, his confident smile nowhere to be seen. He shifted from one foot to the other as if the floor became unbearably hot. The man looked prepared to run.

Trianna could only be glad an oath of secrecy bound Du Vrangr Gata members during these meetings, or she might have to have done something drastic to prevent his tattling. She didn't know if she had the heart to kill the man who comforted her after her near assassination.

"Are we sure this is the best idea? Has Lord Lupin thought about the consequence of such action?" Vizsla asked boldly, questioning where no one else would.

Trianna looked deeply into his cole black eyes, meeting them steadily before turning to other magicians who reluctantly did the same.

"Lord Lupin seems to think that such a thing will become inevitable. Many of you support the Varden and its cause and believe in its cause. Don't worry, that doesn't have to change." Trianna gave the matter some consideration before continuing. "Theodore needs your help to ensure that what needs to happen is as bloodless as possible. Our benefactor only wants what is best for the Varden."

Trianna looked at Vizsla and saw him nod his head in acceptance. Though Trianna wasn't sure, he wasn't wholly convinced.

The mood in the tent had suddenly become dark and gloomy, not fit for talking, and many besides had a burning desire to try new magic, so the meeting ended not long after what Trianna had said. Soon, the sorceress was alone in the tent with Frida beside her—just her and her source of trauma all alone.

Trianna let the silence stretch between them as she waited for Frida to speak. To ask the question that her oaths forced her to.

"Do you have more orders for me?" Frida said her voice was as frosty as a winter breeze. Trianna knew this woman held hostility regardless of her oaths. Finally, she was showing her true colors. Trianna watched as Frida clutched her heart. The sorceress couldn't imagine her pain, but she knew it must be excruciating for the blonde to show it.

"Find more Generals and turn them to our lord's cause." Trianna narrowed her eyes at the aristocratic blonde, noticing how she set her jaw. Disobedience wasn't allowed, but small acts of rebellion like gritting teeth and a hostile tone told Trianna exactly how little Frida liked being told what to do.

"And how would you like me to do that?"

Trianna smiled as the blonde asked another question her oaths forced her to.

"Just don't kill anyone or invade their minds, and you should be fine." Trianna was reminded of the woman's skill in shaping her own flesh. It allowed her to take whatever appearance she needed. That, along with her skill in mind reading, would let the woman take familiar appearances or ones that men appreciated, "it shouldn't be difficult for you. It would be best if you sang yourself a new arm. Men won't find you attractive with only one."

Trianna didn't hear Frida's bitter laughter as she left the tent shortly after, unable to stand in her presence any longer. Then she began walking toward the medical tent, heading for a man she heard might have developed magic sight. An ability to see the magic that Theodore explained to her allowed for a deeper understanding of magic. Theodore briefly explained how he saw the world and could taste, smell, or even hear magic. The wizard had described it as seeing the truth. The injured man's ranting wouldn't have attracted her attention without seeing the similarities it held, knowing what he had seen.

He talked of lights surrounding Eragon and Murtagh, describing Theodore as a black monster with slitted eyes. Somehow, the man had seen a beast when looking at Theodore, the same reptilian feline transformation he had shown the rest of Du Vrangr Gata, and Trianna aimed to find out how.

It didn't take long before she reached his side. The man was blind and had several severe wounds that wound up his right arm and leg. His eyes were the most enticing part of him. Trianna was sure they were naturally blue, but his pupil and iris were hidden behind a film of white.

The older man took to grumbling and wasn't a very active conversation participant until she asked about the cat of death he constantly rambled about. His eyes finally became too focused.

"It was a cat of death, but it wasn't alone. Its feral fangs seemed to snap and bite at the two dragons as if hungering for their death. It flew through the air, dancing on invisible land faster than my eye could follow. There was a man wreathed in flame flying on a wig much smaller than any dragon yet… larger. He held its leash." The man suddenly became scared. "I couldn't look any longer after that. The only thing I could think after seeing it was I looked too long. I–I would Burn. He shone too Brightly.

—-

"Repairo"

Buildings and debris flew into the air and began to swirl together as pieces of glass formed into full sheets. Bricks clinked together at a satisfying clip as buildings laid low again and stood tall. Soon, the only signs of Theodore's battle were the dead bodies and slag cement so burned it could never reform properly.

The bodies were easily transfigured into toy soldiers and pocketed for later burial. The blood disappeared with a simple vanishing charm as the wizard walked through his secret space, looking for his quarry.

His Grimstborith and a rabbit were still missing, but Theodore could smell stagnant blood near him. He knew the Dwarf wasn't dead and couldn't feel him moving either. Keeping his ears for threats of a non-magical nature, Theodore could hear the pitter-pattering of feet but ignored them, knowing they were giant vermin scurrying from their hiding place to find safer homes.

Theodore occasionally saw some beaver-sized rats scurry past him as if their tails caught fire. It wasn't only the vermin that wanted to run; any isolated humans hiding in the building would be running as far from the city center as possible. Theodore felt slightly bad for being the reason so many had lost their homes, but the wizard didn't dwell on it for long.

He took a slow and methodical path, starting from the center plaza and working his way out, fixing things along the way. All while paying attention to whether the stench of stagnant blood moved further from him. Soon after the rest was cleaned up, he came to where he knew Vermund must be hiding.

He could sense traces of his magic in a small house. The entrance was left wide open, and Theodore, despite his keen eyesight, couldn't make out anything in the darkness. He walked forward, sure that his armor boot and the clattering sound it made on stone would draw the Dwarf's attention, but the wizard decided to step forward carelessly.

From the shadows, a bronze dagger skittied off his black armor with a spark. The Dwarf attacked with an explosion of movement, slashing and hacking with wild abandon, but Theodore didn't allow anything besides the first to land.

He Twirled and twisted, taking advantage of his inhuman flexibility to escape more attempted lynchings. Theodore had thought the Dwarf would eventually grow tired, but the tiny creature relentlessly continued instead. His more diminutive form allowed an ease of movement in the confined space of the house that Theodore couldn't match.

The wizard allowed the Dwarf several more attempts before growing annoyed at the Grimstboriths' persistence. Pulling at the Dwarf's arm as he came for another pass with his dagger, Theodore kneed the Dwarf in the gut and threw him back. The Dwarf climbed to his feet again and began to attack.

Allowing his magic free reign, he barely uttered a knockback jinx before the Dwarf's back shattered painfully into the wall. Vermund wordlessly screamed in pain, having lost his breath before sliding to the ground against the wall, paralyzed.

"Well, now that is done. Where is Snuffles? Such a cute little rabbit will likely be eaten by vole rats if left alone too long."

Theodore grabbed the bronze dagger, letting it fall into one of his expanded pockets. He idly looked around before he saw a flash of black fur.

The rabbit must have heard him because it seemed to rush to his side in fear. The poor black thing was shivering quite severely as he picked him up, only calming down after Theodore gave it a few good pettings. Then its pea brain seemed to forget its fear as it gave a pleased purr.

"It's okay, little one. You dwarves really have no sense of decency. How could you let such a large rodent run rampant among you? It's damn near half your size. Come snuffles, I have you now," Theodore playfully cooed at the rabbit as one would a baby looking at Vermund out of the corner of his eyes.

"No, don't take him. I'll do anything but leave him alone," Vermund muttered, the Dwarf's mind completely foggy. Pain erupted everywhere in his body as he spoke.

"Don't worry, you're both coming. I still need you." The Dwarf seemed to shutter at that. Some nameless terror took him as the Dwarf decided to pee his pants for a second time.

Vermund reached behind him, trying to crawl with his arms toward the door of the small dwarven hut. He made a lot of progress reaching the door before Theodore stilled him.

Using an animation charm on Theodore began to puppet Vermund's body. Soon, the paralyzed Dwarf stopped struggling, and with a bit of puppetting and occlumency-enhanced multitasking on Theodore's part, both started to walk toward the city's center. Despite all the lanterns destroyed in the fighting, they were greeted with ritualistic green. Only undirected omnipresent green lighting remained, setting an intimate and forbidding tone for the place. It was perfect for what the wizard had planned.

Despite the grim mood, Theodore let loose a wide, toothy smile, happy to finally be done with what he had set out to do before a wayward god interrupted him.

The black fountain had fully reformed from any damage it might have taken, but it no longer held a dwarven god's statue. Instead, it was a pedestal surrounded by a sea of black marble with no water to hide it. Theodore looked over the edge, noting that the fountain was several meters deep at its edge, before jumping down into the pool of smooth black stone, his landing cracking black stone as he pulled Vermund and snuffles along with him.

There was a heavy metal clank as Theodore walked closer to the fountain's center. The fountain itself held a broad conical shape that was mildly unsettling in its steepness but still domed and wide enough to be walked comfortably.

Walls of black veiny stone seemed to finally swallow them entirely as they came to the fountain's deepest point, where the slope ended and plateaued into solid ground. The statue's pedestal at the center went all the way to the base, so Theodore decided to get rid of it in place of a proper replacement.

"What are you doing?" Vermund said, sounding both fascinated and frightened. The Dwarf still seemed out of it.

"Ensuring Dwarven loyalty. No need to be afraid; this is how you live, after all."

Vermund didn't seem to believe him, but Theodore paid him no mind, focusing his attention with his wand drawn on the black stone pedestal that reached high above them. Theodore began waving his wand as if conducting a symphony of magic as transfiguration weaved with charms and warding magic.

Enchantments were sucked greedily into the stone as the black stone of the pedestal melted and formed a small delicate octagonal staircase, its corners shaped with spiderwebbed sharp jutting black stone corners and each step holding runes that would protect its prize behind intent wards. When Theodore was sure he had it just right, His group began climbing the steps to the flat black stone top.

A new, smaller pedestal began to form, and then, from his pocket, Theodore took out a much too-large golden chalice that gleamed with holiness that clashed with the black stone Theodore set it on.

Theodore took out his ritual dagger and made a small cut on his hand, drawing magic deeply into a drop of blood before letting it fall into the cup's mouth. The gold grew excitedly as it drank. It released a metallic whine as its magic took hold, and his blood vanished from within. Atlantean magic became active as an ancient dead tongue burned brightly on the gold cup's rim.

"Your blood. What matter is it made of Dwarf?"

"M-my blood?" The Dwarf looked suddenly very nervous.

"Yes, your blood?"

"Feed it your blood." The bloody Chalice gave an excited whisper. Theodore ignored its whisper, and the Dwarf seemed inclined to do the same.

"O-our blood comes from s-stone."

"Really, how interesting." The wizard said mildly. The way Theodore said it drew Vermund out of his pain and fear and into a religious fervor instead.

The Dwarf ignored his circumstances. The fact that he was in a creepy well surrounded by black stone, standing next to a magician with unknown goals who had puppetted his broken body to a golden chalice who whispered after blood, all in favor of godly devotion.

'How dare this monster question our gods.' was all the Dwarf could think. Vermund had a throbbing headache that only worsened with a sudden outburst of anger. He could hear broken bones creaking as he tried to reassert control of his body, but Theodore was too strong. The animation charm beside was the only thing holding up his body, so eventually, the Dwarf gave up.

"What do you think blood is, then? You damned heathen outsider! I hope you–" Theodore raised a hand, cutting him off. Vermund would have ignored this gesture if his mouth hadn't involuntarily snapped shut.

"Blood, from a scientific view, is mostly water mixed with organic matter that keeps your body running, but it is so much more. Blood is magic. Blood is a connection. Blood is dust." Theodore gave a broad smile that unsettled Vermund in its somewhat ordinary nature. The wizard was deadly calm, almost clinical, as he drew his dagger to Vermund's involuntarily outstretched hand and drew across it a small cut.

Vermund barely felt the wound, but soon, blood was pulled unnaturally fast from his body. The Dwarf began screaming. Theodore didn't bother to silence the Dwarf. It was important to monitor his condition during the process.

"Yes, Yes, thank you. It… wait, it tastes so nasty—" The cup began making unpleasant groaning sounds, but it kept sucking at the blood as it ran freely from the Dwarf's hand. Soon, it began rumbling, groaning, and changing, becoming clunkier, its metal exterior slightly blemished.

Theodore frowned at the unpleasant swirls of black in his golden cup that wasn't too visible yet but easily seen with his keen eyes. It seemed the Dwarf had some truth in what he said. Dwarven blood seemed most impure. It might mean the Chalice's destruction if it became too tarnished.

Theodore animated Vermund's hand from over the Chalice and conjured a small glass vial to collect it for later study. The blood is thick and dense, clumping together, unlike human blood. Theodore mentally noted the difference. Luckily, by that point, the Dwarf had fallen unconscious. Theodore caught him before his head slammed into the ground. He would need his rest for what was to come.

Lowering the Dwarf, Theodore listened to the Chalice singing in sadistic pleasure. It's metal undulating as it began screaming sick poetry.

"Blood in you

Blood outside

Blood is mine."

Theodore looked at the cup in disgust, hoping its use wouldn't become necessary before disappearing in a crack with Vermund and Snuffles.

—-

The Clans Meet after a ritual of Arrival was a colossal affair. Theodore watched Orik as the nerves set in. The Dwarf seemed more nervous than he had ever seen him. The man was biting his nails at what was to come. His wife, Hevedra, had repeatedly scolded him for the nasty habit.

There were shouts and cheering outside of the presidium where they sat now. The crowd wasn't allowed to observe the actual meeting, but that didn't stop them from blocking out all the concrete streets around the building where it was taking place. Theodore looked out a window at the crowd of people and grew uncomfortable with their single-minded pursuit of discovering the result of the Clans Meet.

The wizard was sure that many would mob if they got a result they didn't like. Dwarves were more ridged and stoic than most races, but it wasn't a half-hearted thing when they became politically involved.

"You shouldn't worry too much," Theodore said, turning to his dwarven friend.

Orik surprisedly chuckled, "How do you figure that one."

"One way or another. This matter will be resolved soon. Your worry will not only do you no good at this point, but it might hinder your persuasive abilities, and you'll need everything you have to win. Were you able to get any concessions?"

"A few. Gedthall was easily convinced with a simple promise of being able to remodel and rebuild several historical sites however they liked. I also convinced the Narga and Feldnost Grimstboriths because of my loyalty to my father.

Surprisingly, even an old enemy, our rival, Az Sweldn rak Anhûin, was convinced after a small money offer. You were more successful with your little talk than you let on. Orik's voice was marked with surprise at that development, "Of course, Gannel is with me, along with Udin and Hadfala, who always support him."

"But it is not enough?"

"No, not enough to be sure. Remember that this vote must have a two-thirds majority, or blood will spill," Orik sighed, mentally complaining about his sweaty ceremonial robes as he began pacing. He could feel beads of water fall in lines down his face, giving him an overly shiny forehead. "Perhaps I should have waited."

"It's too late to ponder now. Come, it's time, Orik."

A group of royal guards led the Dwarf and wizard to the Chamber of Atonement. Theodore heard it was one of the places where large public trials would be held. The wizard couldn't help but feel it set the wrong tone, but couldn't say it.

His being a friend of the dwarves could only be pushed so far. He might have the privilege of listening but not speaking during the meeting.

Coming into the chamber, Theodore instantly noted how the room was structured. Dwarves liked large, intimidating structures. This was one of them. Natural crystalline light shone down from above them onto a finely carved crescent table raised like a pilar above all else in the room.

There sat the thirteen Grimsboriths from every clan to sit in judgment. The tension in the room was evident, and Orik wasn't the only one nervous. The ritual of Arrival was a notoriously bloody affair.

Honestly, Theodore wondered why such a thing still existed in the Knurlan tradition. Theodore heard that seventeen blood feuds had started in the council chamber the last time the tradition was followed. The whole thing wasn't conducive to unity.

The Builder's rebellion was proof of that. Not only two centuries before, the streets ran red with blood over a dishonored Grimsborith denied after a king's moot.

Theodore had heard it was the Mason caste that had started it. Unsatisfied with their lowly place in society when they worked the most honorable job, Grimstborith Feo'tiel of Durmist Knurlcarathn called for the ritual of Arrival not long after King Rhotalide's death. The clan that allowed Tronjheim to become what it was finally wanted their piece of the pie. They got it, too. Theodore had heard that the next king granted that clans Grimstborith unimaginable wealth as a cultural payback and extensive mining rights.

Like everything dwarves built, the room was boxy and not particularly complex but impressive in size and stature. Eclipsing the tables on either side stood ancient dwarven, intricately carved, and lifelike statues. They wore heroes' armor, leaning against their axes, standing 50 feet tall, nearly reaching the ceiling. They looked down at those who entered, ready to protect those who sat in judgment over them, and they were the only ornamentation to the otherwise barren room.

Looking at the Grimstboriths searchingly, Theodore found Vermund among their number, whole and healthy. He smiled at the Grimsborith. The Dwarf returned his smile before the moment passed.

The Dwarf seemed to be the only one happy to see him. Others looked at him in fear and suspicion after hearing about the riots. No one had proof of anything, so the general consensus had been not to ask him, though Theodore doubted it would last.

The Clansmeet finally came into session, with Gannel pounding a round stone on polished wood.

"So we can finally end their farce." Hreidamar Grimstborith of clan Urzad said, exasperated at being the first to speak.

Orik looked up and gave the Dwarf a sour look, but the man looked oblivious to the offense he caused.

"Farce, how dare you. Have you no honor? Has Dûrgrimst Urzhad forsaken the ancient right of Arrival? Have you finally forsaken your religion as well? I had always believed that your clan could never touch stone in peace. It is why you failed as miners." Freowin of clan Gedthall was prepared with his insults and had written them well.

Hreidamar looked ready to fight, reflexively reaching for an axe that wasn't there before shaking his fist at the other Dwarf in wordless anger. The other Dwarf could only count himself lucky no weapons were allowed during the clan's meet as Theodore saw violence in his eyes. Perhaps the first blood feud had already started.

"What Hreida cat got your tongue, or are you having a seizure? I didn't know waving had come into fashion again." Durgrimst Knurlcarathn quickly joined, seeming eager to stir the pot."

"Enough!" Gannel screamed; his powerful voice ensured there was no further talking. "There shall be no talking as is tradition."

There was a moment of silence before Gannel spoke again, "Now we begin the final questions. Each Grimstborith is allowed one question of King candidate."

Most Grimsboriths were waiting for this as they leaned forward in anticipation. Gannel allowed them a small amount of time to talk among themselves to decide who would ask what until they found a proper order.

Hreidamar, likely because of his impatience, was allowed first, "Would you, Orik of the clan Ingeitum, be willing to use Dwarven steel to continue a pointless war?"

There was so much outrage after that question that it was evident to Theodore that the Dwarf didn't follow his script.

"Shut up, the lot of you," Hreidamar said sharply before turning back to Orik, "I only ask the question the rest of you cowards wouldn't dare to ask. All of you should know the cost this war has had on the dwarves despite us never liking dragons or riders very much.

We have housed their men at the cost of nothing for them. Outfitted their army with armor and weapons, sending our young dwarves to die in a pointless war. Would any here disagree?"

Theodore looked around and saw that many would have liked to but held their tongues. Others seemed more considering.

"This is a necessary war. While dragons might be our ancestorial enemies and Dragon riders might have never been our friends, I can assure you Galbatorix is certainly our enemy." Orik said as he looked around at the Grimstboriths above him, "Most of you know his madness, his willingness to kill anyone that stands in his path. Can we hide under our mountains when his black dragon comes with an army of thousands?

Do you think Dwarves will survive, or will he enslave us like he does to his kind? I didn't know that dwarves had fallen so low that their leaders would lie down, ready to become slaves. Vote me, king, and my clan will supply sharp steel to his heart instead."

That drew some outrage from other Grimstboriths, and angry shouting began. Hreidamar tried to look defiant, but Theodore saw that Orik had succeeded in his rebuke. Shame turned the angry little Dwarf's face red.

A few more lackluster questions came before it was time to Vote. Orik was given a final opportunity to make a speech in which he expounded upon the deed of his family and his father's accomplishments—boasting at how he had brought a dragon rider as captive. The Grimstborith all seemed to nod in agreement.

What came next mainly was dull posturing dwarves stating a case for or against Orik before voting began, with nine hands raised for Orik and four against. Theodore released a gentle sigh of relief.