‘Our gates have remained open, High King,’ said another of the goldmasters, an enthusiastic understudy wanting to curry favour, ‘and we continue to extend invitation to elgi traders to treat with us but they do not wish to trespass onto dawi lands for fear of persecution. The Hi–, er… King of Karaz-a-Karak has petitioned greater and greater numbers of rangers and reckoners to patrol dawi borders. Travel is almost impossible.’
‘Enough!’ snapped Grum, staggering to his feet to dismiss the ineffectual goldmasters. ‘Get out, all of you! Especially you,’ he added, jabbing his finger at the one who had seemingly lost his tongue. ‘Bloody mute! Out!’
Bowing profusely, the three goldmasters backed away and out of the counting house.
‘Idiots,’ hissed Grum before they were gone, stacking coins as the old familiar veneer slid across his face. Eyes beginning to glaze over, a dumb smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, he almost didn’t hear Rundin speaking.
‘…are right, my king,’ he was saying.
‘Uh? What?’ Grum asked, slightly dazed. When his gaze fell on his champion and protector, he became more lucid. ‘Who are right?’
Rundin was standing by his master’s side, arms folded, his expression neutral at all times.
‘Your goldmasters, my king. All of the major roads are closed to trade, especially to elgi. What little gold is coming in to Kazad Kro is from the Vaults and the Grey Mountains, but that is not enough to sustain previous yields.’
Grum slapped a page of his ledger, leaving a greasy palm print on the parchment. Scrawled Klinkerhun daubed every leaf in a feverish script.
‘I can see that, Rundin. The numbers never lie.’ He carried on counting, mumbling, ‘Gotrek is a selfish wazzock.’
‘My king…’ Rundin ventured after a minute of listening to his liege-lord lay one coin atop another.
‘There is more?’ asked Grum, agitated, licking his bottom lip as he slowly created a gleaming tower of stacked coins.
Rundin nodded. ‘Cessation of trade with the elgi these past eight years is because of a much larger problem.’
‘I fail to see any larger problem than that which my goldmasters have already presented.’ Once again, he returned to his counting.
‘War, my king. There is talk of war with the elves.’
Grum’s face screwed up like an oily rag. ‘Over what, some petty trade disputes? Bah! Gotrek must have been supping from the dragon.’
‘No, my king.’ Throughout the exchange Rundin’s tone had never wavered from stolid and serious, but now he showed his incredulity at just how little his liege-lord seemed to be aware of the greater world. ‘Murder and death, sabotage and destruction. The burning of Zakbar Varf was just the beginning. Kazad Mingol bore witness to a skirmish between a band of its rangers and elgi warriors. No fewer than sixteen shipments from Kagaz Thar have gone missing in the last three months alone. Grudges longer than the gilded road running through our city litter our dammaz kron and continue to accumulate. And that is not to mention the grievances of our mountain kin.’
‘No,’ Grum uttered flatly.
‘No?’
‘I will not have war. It is bad for business.’ He gestured to the massive hoard of treasure in his counting house. ‘See how it already hurts my coffers? I won’t countenance it. War is expensive. It means shields and armour, and axes, provisions. If the elgi are as belligerent as you say then we will shut our gates to all and wait out Gotrek’s little feud.’
‘I fear it has gone beyond that, my king. We may have no–’
Grum slammed his fist down on the arm of his throne and glared at his champion.
‘Are you determined to defy me, Rundin?’
‘I would never do that, my king, but if Gotrek Starbreaker declares war upon the elgi then we must, as dawi, answer.’
‘Must… must! I am High King and shall not bow to him. I do not recognise his authority. Let mountain dawi deal with mountain dawi problems, why should I be dragged into it, why should our people be dragged into it?’ Grum’s eyes narrowed as he found the leverage he needed to mollify his champion. ‘Your people, Rundin. You wouldn’t want to see them ravaged by a war that is not theirs to begin with, would you?’
Rundin bowed his head, knowing he had lost.
‘Of course not, my king.’
‘You are loyal to me, are you not?’ asked Grum, leaning forwards as if to scrutinise the champion’s veracity.
‘I am, my king.’
‘And swore oaths to defend me and protect my rule, yes?’
‘I did.’ Rundin knew it, he knew it all, but could not bring his eyes up from his boots.
Leaning back, Grum returned to his counting.
‘Find me more gold, Rundin. You’re good at that. Seek it out in the rivers and hills, bring the elgi back to our table to make trade.’
‘As you wish, my king.’
Thumping his chest, Rundin took his leave.
He met Furgil on the outskirts of Kazad Kro, below the city’s rocky promontary. It was a wasteland outside. Gone were the encampments, the bustling market town of trade that had grown up around it. A few disparate, determined traders from the Grey Mountains and Vaults had set up their stalls and wagons but would stay only briefly. Threat of imminent war had chased all others away. Either that or it was the constant patrols of heavily armed rangers that had dissuaded them.
The chief scout of Everpeak looked more grizzled than most. He was not alone and led a large band of rangers. Some had injuries and one of the dwarfs carried two crossbows.
‘A skirmish,’ Furgil explained, when he saw Rundin regarding the state of his warriors. ‘Lost Bori and took some cuts.’
‘Elgi?’
Furgil nodded.
‘Seems your king has extended invitation to trade still, but hadn’t reckoned on the fact that his liege-lord has rangers patrolling the roads and overground routes.’
‘He will not fight,’ said Rundin, ‘if it comes to war.’
‘Been eight years, brother, and the killing keeps on rising. We haven’t returned to Karaz-a-Karak for months. War will come, Rundin. Too much bad blood running in the river now. We stand on a precipice.’
‘Aye,
