R. Salvatore - Archmage

“Nah,” said Bruenor. “We’re marching to our own land to take it back.”

“Land that falls within my borders.”

“Then them borders’ll be redrawn, don’t ye doubt,” Bruenor shot back. “Gauntlgrym’s a dwarven home, and goin’ back to Delzoun rule, and none’ll doubt our claim.”

“And it’s held by drow, by all word that’s come forth,” Emerus added. “What’ve ye done to rid yer lands o’ that scourge, O Lord Protector?”

Emerus sat down when he finished, and tugged Bruenor’s sleeve to get him, too, to return to his seat. Across the way, Lord Neverember leaned on the table with an aggressive posture, staring hard at the dwarves. Finally, he returned to his seat.

“You mean to reclaim Gauntlgrym for the dwarves,” he said.

“Aye, and know that we’re meanin’ to fight any who think to stand afore that end,” said Bruenor.

Neverember bristled but let it go. “And re-fire the forges.”

“Already runnin’,” said Bruenor. “And better that they’re runnin’ for dwarf smiths.”

Neverember nodded and wore an expression that looked as if he was beginning to see things in a different light-no doubt, in a profitable light for Neverwinter, or more important, for himself. Bruenor recognized that clearly, for he had paid close attention to all the whispers along the road regarding the new Lord Protector of Neverwinter. Bruenor had not met the man in his short time in the city previously. But even then the whispers had been quite consistent in tagging the man with some of the mind’s deadly sins, and all were on display already in this short meeting: pride, wrath, and now, it seemed pretty clear to the dwarf, avarice.

“We come to introduce ye to yer new neighbors, Lord Neverember,” said Bruenor. “Don’t ye doubt that.”

“Those lands in the Crags are under my control,” he countered.

“Not anymore,” said Bruenor.

Those seated around Lord Protector Neverember sucked in their breath as one, and the man sputtered as he searched to put his anger into words, but Bruenor wasn’t about to let it go.

“Gauntlgrym’s dwarf land,” he declared, standing again. “If ye’re meaning to fight us, ye best do it now, afore we get into the mines. Ye got the belly for that?”

Neverember stared at him incredulously, sputtering still, his lack of options laid bare. There was no way the Neverwinter garrison could be turned loose on the powerful army Bruenor and Emerus had brought to their doorstep. Five thousand battle-hardened dwarf veterans outfitted with the strongest armor and weapons of the finest materials mined in Mithral Hall and Citadel Felbarr and lovingly crafted by the artisans of Citadel Adbar would prove formidable against the very best armies of the Realms, particularly in the open field, where the dwarves’ discipline and tight defensive formations could frustrate even heavy cavalry.

Certainly the garrison of Neverwinter wasn’t about to leave the protection of the city walls to challenge them, Lord Neverember’s bluster notwithstanding.

Exposed now, the Lord Protector of Neverwinter settled back in his chair and stroked his silver beard, managing a smile that was supposed to appear wry, but in reality seemed rather pathetic to Bruenor.

“You have come as a courtesy, you say, but you offer threats?” came the predictable response-the answer of a man trying not to be embarrassed.

“No threats to any who’re not trying to stop us from gettin’ back our home,” said Bruenor. “Are ye sayin’ ye like the drow and goblins on yer doorstep more than a kingdom o’ dwarfs? If that’s what ye’re sayin’ then say it straight up.”

“I said no such thing.”

“Gauntlgrym’s Delzoun.”

“The land above it is under my protection,” Lord Neverember said. “Even if you are successful in reclaiming the Underdark of this place you claim to be Gauntlgrym, your kingdom will extend no farther than your front door.”

Bruenor chuckled, understanding now. The greedy Waterdhavian lord was angling for a tithe. The dwarves would need trade, obviously, and Neverember wanted his cut.

“Talk for another day,” Bruenor said, and he offered Neverember a grin and a nod to show that he understood well what was going on. “First we’ve got a war to fight and win, and don’t ye doubt that we’ll be doing just that.”

Before Lord Neverember could even respond, Bruenor motioned left and right to his entourage, and they rose and stepped away from the table. The crafty old dwarf, who appeared so young, wanted to make it clear that he and his people were not under the suffrage of Lord Protector Neverember or anyone else, and so he wasn’t about to wait for a dismissal from the lord, or even a respectful conclusion to the formal meeting.

He was daring Neverember to take action, perhaps even to detain him and his small entourage.

Because he knew the man would do no such thing, particularly not with King Emerus and Drizzt-who remained quite popular in Neverwinter these days-in that entourage.

They were out of the city soon after, without hindrance, and General Sabine, riding a fabulous warhorse with metal barding, and Citizen Jelvus Grinch on a smaller riding horse even accompanied them back to the main dwarven encampment, chatting amicably all the way.

“Lord Neverember is in a difficult position here,” General Sabine told them. “This long-lost complex you call Gauntlgrym. .”

“Is Gauntlgrym,” Bruenor interrupted. “Been there meself more than once. No doubt.”

General Sabine bowed to concede the point.

“Gauntlgrym has been a thorn in Neverwinter’s side,” she explained. “Monsters come forth from the Underdark all the time. And it was from that region, from the very mountain that houses the ancient complex, that the volcano erupted in the first place, destroying the old city.”

Bruenor and Drizzt knew the truth of that all too well, and knew the source of the volcano to be the very same fire primordial that fired Gauntlgrym’s legendary Forge. Drizzt had watched the eruption from a hilltop not so far away.

“Did ye come out here to tell me how to think o’ Neverember then?” Bruenor asked. “I seen what I seen.”

“I hope you understand the upset your arrival has caused, and will cause, with the powers that be in the region,” General Sabine replied.

“Not just Lord Neverember,” Jelvus Grinch added. “I expect that many of the Waterdhavian lords will not be as welcoming as you hope.”

“But what would you do if you were still first citizen?” Drizzt asked, his tone revealing that he knew the answer.

“I’d be going into Gauntlgrym beside you to chase the dark elves and the rest away,” he answered after only a slight hesitation to glance at General Sabine. His words could be construed as a treasonous act under the court of fiery Neverember. Jelvus Grinch had no authority to speak against the Lord Protector of Neverwinter, and certainly not in the presence of Neverwinter’s captain of the guard, and yet he was.

That told Drizzt and the others a lot about Jelvus Grinch, but more importantly, it told Drizzt and Bruenor about the reliability and integrity of General Sabine. Jelvus Grinch would not have spoken so openly if he didn’t trust the woman, which in Drizzt and Bruenor’s eyes told them that they could trust her as well.

“With the dwarves claiming Gauntlgrym, Neverwinter will be far more secure,” Jelvus Grinch went on. “And more prosperous, I would assume, with a mighty trading partner so near. You will want our food and our cloth.”

“And our markets for your wares,” General Sabine added.

Bruenor nodded, but thought that the dwarves would have nothing to do with Neverwinter’s products, craftsmen, or markets if Neverember tried to slap a tariff on the dwarves for bringing their goods out through what the Lord Protector considered Neverwinter land.