Nightfall, Brimholt
The town of Brimholt smelled of iron, sweat, and suspicion.
The streets were muddy, uneven, and carved into the valley like deep scars, the buildings half-stone, half-wood, their sturdy dwarven architecture weathered but enduring. Chimneys belched smoke into the cold night air, and the sound of distant hammering echoed from the mines.
Delwyn adjusted the weight of her sword as she and Vaelor strode through the main road, walking with the confidence of people who belonged.
Behind them, Mira, Elias, Joren, and Talia melted into the shadows, slipping toward the stables.
They had one chance at this.
Delwyn and Vaelor would try draw the attention of the town's dwarven guards. Meanwhile, the others would steal the horses they needed.
If everything went smoothly, no one would even know what had happened until morning.
But Delwyn had learned long ago—nothing ever went smoothly.
****
The Dwarves of Brimholt
The nearest tavern sat on the edge of the marketplace, squat and thick-walled, its heavy wooden doors reinforced with iron bands. A few dwarves loitered outside, leaning against barrels, their expressions sour as they nursed their drinks.
The tavern sign creaked overhead, carved in old dwarven script. Delwyn didn't need to read it to know what it said.
"Outsiders Pay Twice."
She smirked. Typical.
The moment she and Vaelor stepped into the dimly lit tavern, the chatter dampened. Not silent, but… quieter.
She felt the stares. Some barely concealed. Others bold and unwavering.
Delwyn ignored them.
She strode toward the bar like she had gold to burn and no time for nonsense. Vaelor followed, his hood still drawn low, his presence sharp and unreadable.
The barkeep, a burly dwarf with a braided iron-grey beard, eyed them with deep-set suspicion.
"You're lost," he muttered.
Delwyn smirked, leaning one elbow on the bar. "Not lost. Just passing through."
The barkeep wiped his hands on a rag, unimpressed. "Then pass through faster."
Vaelor exhaled quietly beside her.
She shot him a quick look. Not helpful.
She turned back to the dwarf, offering her best disarming smile. "We just need supplies. A few fresh horses, some food. Nothing more."
The barkeep snorted. "Ain't got horses for sale. Try another town."
Delwyn feigned disappointment. "That's a shame. I was hoping to do honest business."
That got a sharp, disbelieving chuckle from a nearby dwarf. "Hah. Humans and 'honest business.' That's rich."
Delwyn gritted her teeth. She had forgotten how stubborn dwarves were.
Vaelor, finally speaking, let out a slow sigh. "We can pay."
The barkeep eyed him, then scoffed. "Don't want your gold. If you need horses, take it up with Huldor."
Delwyn tilted her head. "Huldor?"
The barkeep jerked his chin toward the corner of the tavern, where a short, broad-shouldered dwarf sat nursing a half-empty tankard. His beard was thick, a deep auburn streaked with grey flecks, and his eyes were sharp despite the ale.
"You want horses?" the barkeep muttered. "That's your man."
Delwyn exchanged a quick glance with Vaelor.
This wasn't part of the plan.
But it was a distraction nonetheless.
She nodded slightly, then pushed off the bar, walking toward the dwarf.
****
Meanwhile – The Heist Begins
Outside, Mira, Elias, Joren, and Talia moved through the dark.
The stables were small, built against the edge of a rocky hillside, the corral fenced in with thick ironwood posts.
Mira counted eight horses.
Perfect.
Elias crouched near the entrance, his voice barely a whisper. "Two guards. One near the gate, another by the feed trough."
Talia, who had barely spoken since Eldermire, unsheathed a thin dagger. "We take them out?"
Joren shook his head. "Not unless we have to."
Mira exhaled. "Then we do this quiet."
She motioned for Elias to follow, creeping toward the back of the stables where the horses were tied. The animals shifted restlessly, sensing movement in the night.
They had to move fast.
****
Back in the Tavern – The Bluff Continues
Delwyn sat across from Huldor, resting her arms on the scarred, sticky wooden table.
The dwarf studied her with a slow, calculating look.
"You're a liar," he said finally.
Delwyn grinned. "Is it that obvious?"
Huldor took a slow sip of his ale. "You don't smell like a merchant, and you sure as hell don't look like a farmer. So that means you're something else." He leaned forward slightly. "And I don't like 'something else.'"
Delwyn's smirk didn't waver. "Then it's a good thing we're just some travellers in need of a few horses."
Huldor scoffed. "Right. And I'm the bloody King of the Dwarves." He laughed.
Vaelor, silent until now, finally spoke, removing his hood. "We can pay."
Huldor raised an eyebrow. "I'm not interested in your gold, elf."
Delwyn braced for trouble.
Huldor studied them both for a moment longer, then exhaled through his nose. "You want horses?" He drained his ale, then slammed the tankard down. "Beat me in a drinking contest."
Delwyn blinked.
Vaelor tilted his head slightly. "Well, that's… unexpected."
Delwyn grinned. "I like my odds."
****
Meanwhile – Brimholt Stables
Elias worked quickly, untying the reins of the first horse while Mira moved to the second.
The guard near the corral turned, frowning.
Mira froze.
For a moment, it seemed like the man would look away.
Then—his eyes narrowed.
And his hand went to his sword.
Mira swore under her breath.
This just got complicated.