Their journey back to Dalford is quiet with Nibbles latched onto Krankos's shoulder, sleeping most of the way. By the time Krankos and Nibbles return to Dalford the moon is high and glistens in the night sky.
At the edge of Dalford, two lit torches can be seen in the distance. Krankos stops. They are carried by two well armed dwarven guards questioning some villagers.
"Probably best avoid them," Krankos says before running behind a large house to their left. The sudden change in movement wakes Nibbles who slowly lifts its head.
Krankos peaks it's head around the corner. A few buildings down is a light, flickering through a small window.
"That must be Borkin's Shop," Krankos whispers to Nibbles.
Nibbles nods with the quietest tired squeak.
To keep out of sight, Krankos uses the buildings and nearby trees as cover, moving closer to the light. Surprisingly, although the machine is large, it isn't spotted by anyone, with most dwarfs sound asleep.
As they get closer it becomes clearer and clearer the light is indeed coming from Borkin's shop with the anvil and structure now in clear view. Krankos crouches down and creeps closer to the lit window to see if Borkin is awake.
Inside, Borkin is looking around at the damages caused by the two dwarfs earlier that evening, still cleaning up the mess. His back is turned away from the window and unaware of the machine behind him.
Krankos quietly calls out, "Borkin…" to get his attention.
Unfortunately, Krankos is much louder than intended. Borkin, not expecting to see an Elmforge at his window, turns around startled, "What the Fu?!?" he shrieks, falling backwards and tripping over a box.
There is a loud thud as Borkin hits the floor. He climbs back onto his feet and walks to the back window, "What the hell ya doin' here?" he asks frantically.
"We have come to be your escort service," Krankos replies, accompanied by a squeak and nod from Nibbles.
Borkin cannot find the words, his mouth agape, before there is a loud banging on his front door.
*Thud. Thud. Thud.* "Everything alright in there?" a dwarven guard asks in an authoritative tone.
Borkin shushes Krankos whilst wafting his hands, "Best hide away; don't want ya being seen ‘ere."
Krankos moves away from the window, far enough so that neither it nor Nibbles can be seen by the guards but close enough to hear them and feel the tremors.
With Krankos out of sight from the inside, Borkin walks towards the door. Before he can answer, there is another, louder, knock, "Hello? Anybody there?" another dwarf asks, equally as authoritative but with a broader accent.
Opening the door reveals the two dwarfs that were patrolling the streets. He recognises them both; he had approached them in the past for aid in dealing with damages to his shop but nothing was ever done about it.
To the left is Poltak, an older dwarf. His grey beard is full with the top of his head balding and wrinkles adding much definition to his face. Poltak is a well experienced soldier and maintained an angry look on his face; few can ever recall seeing him smile.
On the right is Curtmar, a much younger dwarf, but certainly talented. He is well known locally, rising up the ranks of Mount Lyke Militia quickly. He had already earnt a very noticeable scar on his right eye after dealing with a crazed Ogre. His hair is almost pitch black however, unlike most dwarfs, he keeps his beard shaven and hair short; claiming long hair just makes life and fighting more difficult. One thing is for sure, if he is involved, it’s serious.
"Aye, am good, jus' doing some cleanin' and tripped over a box, clumsy 'eh?" Borkin replies with a smile and slight chuckle. Although it is a chuckle of nervousness for having an Elmforge at the back of his shop, Borkin tries to play it as a chuckle of embarrassment.
The guards push past Borkin and into his store, making him bobble backwards. He shrugs his shoulders to keep balanced, preventing him falling over a second time.
Curtmar looks around the shop; there are a number of bags, crates and baskets on the floor, some packed full of items. He sucks his teeth, "You going somewhere?"
"Aye, looking to move somewhere that don't 'av guards disturbing mi in middle 'o' night." Borkin replies whilst straightening his crinkled shirt.
Curtmar ignores Borkin's backhanded tone and continues looking around, "Funny that..."
"Eh?" Borkin walks right into their trap.
"Well, it's just, we're looking for two dwarfs by the names of Armdan and Rotdir. Heard they were last seen with an Elmforge running out of your shop…" Curtmar locks eyes with Borkin, "...On its shoulders…"
Krankos reaches for its shortsword, grasping it tightly. Whilst there was some reluctance in leaving Armdan and Rotdir unconscious and defenceless, carrying them around would have caused a lot of trouble. However, with the dwarfs accusative tone, perhaps this wasn't the right choice.
Borkin meets his gaze, "You talkin' 'bout the two fuckwits that tore up ma shop. Yeah, they were 'ere before a crazed Elmforge came in wantin' their blood. Punched mi square in face. Last I saw, it stole ma fuckin' swords 'n' ran."
"Interesting and you did nothing to report this or intervene?" Curtmar retorts.
"What the fuck do you think I could do? Not bein' funny, but I told you useless bastards about the shit those asswipes from Beewick were doin' and nun of ya did shit to help mi. Why'd I think you'd help with an Elmforge?" Tone full of disdain.
Poltak interjects, approaching Borkin with hostility, and grabs him by the collar. In a low, serious tone, "You best start talking to us proper merchant. We aren't just any Beewick piss-ants. You're talking to official guards of the Mount Lyke Militia. Talk to us like that again and it won't just be the items in your shop we break."
Although his tone is low, he can still be heard by Krankos whose sword is now partially drawn and shuffles closer to the window.
A faint light from Krankos radiates to the right of the window frame. Borkin's heart begins to race as he tries to calm the situation before Curtmar or Poltak turn around, "O'aight, I'm sorry, jus' sick 'o' having ma shit torn apart but I swear that's the truth."
Neither seem convinced but have nothing indicating Borkin is lying. "If we find out you've been lying to us..." Curtmar looks Borkin dead in the eye, "... Well, that is a death sentence..."
On their way out, Poltak knocks over a vase which smashes on the floor, "Happy cleaning!"
A slam of the door and Krankos returns to the window. "Are you okay? Want me to teach them a lesson?" It asks, clutching the hilt of it's swords.
"Na, ain't worth it but ya better get in here before someone spots ya," Borkin replies, proceeding to open the back door.
Krankos and Nibbles enter and follow him through a narrow corridor which leads to the shop floor.
Borkin continues, "So what the hell are ya doin' 'ere? Thought ya 'ad a forest to protect?"
Although having Krankos around is certainly a positive, especially if things had gone sideways with Curtmar and Poltak, it still left him with an Elmforge hiding out in his shop and dwarfs asking questions.
"Well, you see... The forest... The forest kind of… burnt down..." Krankos replies hesitantly, it's head dropping in embarrassment. While it was never designed to be a woodguard, Elmforge are not used to failing and certainly not so quickly. This also meant the spirit was right, providing it was real.
For comfort, Nibbles pats Krankos on its head.
"How the fuck did that happen?" Borkin asks in shock. "Didn't ya have anyone else helpin’ protect it? And what the bloody hell just destroys a whole forest?"
Krankos doesn't reply. For once it doesn't know how to reply or even explain what happened.
Seeing the Elmforgre stood forlorn, Borkin moves on, "Look, I can see ya feelin' down about it, so jus' answer mi one question..."
Krankos raises its head to Borkin.
"...Are ya sure you've not been followed by whatever destroyed ya forest? 'Cuz I don't want any more trouble."
Krankos nods, "I assure you, it has not followed us. You would know if it had followed."
Borkin's eyes scream at the idea of what could be hunting them. Lost for words, he can only reply, "Great."
With Borkin frozen, agonising about what this unknown horror could be, Krankos and Nibbles look around the shop.
Nibbles climbs down from Krankos's shoulder and jumps to shiny items around the room such as lockets, necklaces, rings and other trinkets. It even attempts to wear them.
Krankos searches for somewhere to sit, however every chair is too small and every counter too frail. With no good options, the machine sits on the floor.
By the time Borkin unfreezes and turns, Krankos is staring at him, now sat at head height, and Nibbles is surrounded by an array of gold, bronze and silver trinkets.
"So when do we leave?" Krankos asks.
The question re-engages Borkin who shakes his head gently and continues packing, "In the mornin' like I said. Aim to leave before sunrise, while streets are quiet 'n' guards sleep. Still got plenty to do, so while you're here ya might as well help mi."
"Is that what an Escort would normally do?"
Borkin smiles, shaking his head heavily, "Nah... Nah... that don't sound right to me, tin man."
"What do you mean?"
Borkin's arms flounder about for emphasis, "Do ya seriously not hear it?? Escort? As in... You know, Escort services?"
Krankos's head bobbles up and down watching Borkin's movement, unclear what he is implying.
He stands, staring back at the machine, waiting for his point to land.
After a delay, it replies, "Yes. I am providing an Escort Service for you..."
Borkin facepalms, "For fucks sake, what the hell 'av I gotten maself into..."
The Elmforge stands and places its hand on Borkin’s shoulder, "... A friendship with an Escort..."
Lifting his head, Borkin see's Krankos opposite him, standing proudly. He slaps his head a few more times while Krankos pats his shoulder. "Look, just... just don't say you're an Escort or an Escort Service to anyone else... okay?"
Krankos argues further, "Why? I am Escorting you from one location to another, am I not?"
"Aye, but it doesn't necessarily mean what you think it means... so jus'... please?"
It looks over to Nibbles who shrugs ever so slightly before replying, "Okay. I won't bring it up unless questioned."
With a sigh of frustration he gives up arguing, "Fine. I'll take it. Shouldn't be many we bump into anyhow. Maybe when we get to Mount Lyke we can get somebody to 'ave a look under ya 'ood."
Krankos's confusion increases; looking again to Nibbles for guidance who is now admiring itself in the reflection of some trinkets.
Returning it's eyes back to Borkin, "Okay then, how can I help?"
"Just start by passing mi that box," Borkin replies, pointing to a large crate on the machine's left.
They spend the next few hours packing. Nibbles isn't much help, only wanting to bury itself with all the shiny trinkets.
As they pack the last item, sunrise nears and with it, the looming threat of Curtmar and Poltak. This becomes evermore dangerous should Armdan and Rotdir report back to Beewick.
The bags under Borkin's eyes are dark but there is little time to waste. The longer they wait the more likely it is for the guards to come for him and, if he is seen with the Elmforge, well... He is not a gambling man.
Borkin opens the door and looks up and down the road. He cannot see any guards and signals to let Krankos and Nibbles know the coast is clear.
While Krankos and Borkin load up the cart, Nibbles back on Krankos's shoulder, they are spotted by the elder dwarven lady from the day before. She stands outside her home for a few moments, staring at them, replaying yesterday's events. She saw the Elmforge running from Borkin's shop, allegedly after beating up Armdan and Rotdir and stealing some swords. Yet here it is. Helping him pack.
The old lady walks up to the trio. "Hello..." she says quizzically.
Borkin cringes upon hearing her voice. This is one of the worst people in the village to spot them; Karnir.
Krankos turns, "Well hello there helpful lady. How are you?"
Karnir's face is full of bewilderment, "I'm... Okay. What is happening here?"
Borkin quickly turns around to intercept but Krankos replies before he can get a word in, "I am Borkin's Escort Service. Call us BES."
This makes the bewildered look on Karnir's face even more intense as she struggles to get her head around what she just heard.
Borkin rubs his forehead and calls out, "Karnir!" before Krankos can say anymore. With her focus on him, he continues, "Can I speak to ya privately?" guiding her to the side.
Karnir looks back at the Elmforge, a look of stone cold uncertainty stretched across her face.
"O'aight, please ignore the Elmforge. I can explain..." Borkin hesitates, struggling to think how he could explain any of this in a believable, non incriminating way.
Karnir, still staring at Krankos, asks, "Is it broken?" before turning back to Borkin.
"Yes!" Borkin replies, wide-eyed and excited, before quickly toning it down to seem less suspicious, "Erm… Yes, so I'm takin' it to Mount Lyke to get fixed, ya know what they're like with their Elmforged."
"But isn't that the one that hurt everyone at Beewick?... and kidnapped Armdan and Rotdir?… and stole your swords?"
Borkin's face freezes, unsure how to actually respond. It was only yesterday that she was asking questions and he fed her this story.
After a few moments of silence, he replies, a face and tone of twisting uncertainty, "Yes.... And that's why I need to get it fixed… It seems to have these outbursts that need looking into, better Mount Lyke than here right?"
Karnir maintains a look of stoic confusion, trying hard to get her head around it but the story isn't convincing.
Borkin continues, "Look, jus' let us head for Mount Lyke, promise ya won't hear nuttin' else from us?"
She takes one more look at Krankos and sees Nibbles peeking out from its cape. The Elmforge then tickles the squirrel's nose. Karnir turns back to Borkin and nods slowly, "Okay..."
Anxious, she turns and walks away as Borkin marches back to the cart.
"Everything okay?" Krankos asks.
Borkin shakes his head, angry, panicked and heart racing, "No. She fuckin' knows!"
"But she smiled and nodded. She seemed really friendly to me."
Borkin walks around the cart to tie everything down, "Unlikely."
"What makes you say that?"
"'Coz that's not 'er house, she's gone to the bloody inn."
Krankos stands still, staring at Borkin.
He elaborates, "That's where the bloody guards are! We need to get the hell outta' 'ere."
Realisation then hits Krankos as it nods in acknowledgement. The trio glance up at the Inn's second storey windows and see Curtmar and Poltak watching them.
"Shit, how quickly do you think you can run while pushing this?" Borkin asks.
Krankos grabs the cart's handles, lifts and yells, "Hold on tight!"
With a firm grip, Borkin grabs the fixings on the side of the cart as Krankos sprints down the road towards the next town.
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