“Certainly,” Adrissu agreed idly, looking out to where the land dropped off into a sheer cliff—the sky was deep blue and covered with huge, fluffy clouds. It had been a long time since he’d flown. Maybe he would sneak away one of these nights for a flight.
Polimnos had grown significantly in the twenty-odd years since it was destroyed, quicker than he had expected when he first arrived. Granted, it was an appealing location; and humans with their newfound freedom had flocked there in droves. Humans were nothing if not industrious, he had learned, and had quickly rebuilt the city to suit their own tastes. Whatever lingering dwarven aesthetic or motif that might have survived the city’s past destruction had long since been built over. The city had become completely and utterly human, for better and worse.
Most of the town’s populace was crammed around the central avenue that followed the shape of the cliffs for a time, then veered west to become the main footpath that supplied the city’s trade and commerce. The buildings now were mostly wood with only a few made of stone—none crafted out of large slabs of rock, the way dwarves constructed their buildings. It only served to show that they no longer feared the return of Zamnes, nor any dragon that might try to burn their city down again. In the end, for all that effort, its riches were a fraction of what it had once been and of no appeal to dragons anymore. And of course, Adrissu’s presence would deter any other dragons from the area—not that the townsfolk would know that.
The city’s exports of fish, stone, and pottery served as their lone connection to the other human city-states that had emerged since Autreth had overthrown their dwarven conquerors and driven away the elf forces that had sought to seize it in the power vacuum that remained. For now, a tentative peace had emerged between the independent city-states in the landmass that made up Autreth; young as he was, Adrissu knew enough of the cycles of time that their independence was bound to come under fire once again. Until then, he would enjoy the relative isolation of Polimnos and its scenery.
He realized Benil had asked him something while his mind was occupied with the sky. “I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, well, I was only asking—” the man stuttered, wringing his hands in front of him. Much as he tried to feign confidence, his nervous tics were far too apparent to fool anyone with even remote powers of observation. “I had only wondered, well, if you might be willing to sign on to the project. I know we don’t have the workforce for it justyet,but if the quarry were expanded, the workers would surely come.”
“Ah,” Adrissu said. The man had been spearheading an effort to expand the quarry outside of Polimnos. The stone there was its primary export, and the Branwood family was one of the three founding members who had begun a mine in the first years of Polimnos’ independence. Much as Adrissu had kept his head down, the townspeople had come to respect him—or perhaps fear him, though he supposed it functioned the same way. His magical ability was known to most; and even to those who weren’t familiar with the arcane, he was the only elf in a town of humans, who lived in a tower just outside of town and didn’t socialize much. Humans were prone to fits of romanticism, he had learned, so this had cultivated an air of mystery that they found appealing, rather than off-putting. If he were to sign on to the proposed project of increasing the quarry’s allotted budget, which the town had remained quite divided on since the proposal was first made earlier this year, those on the fence might be swayed.
Adrissu stifled a sigh. While it was better than being hounded about coming to dinner at the Branwood residence—where he knew Benil would try to orchestrate a situation in which he and his daughter would be alone together—it was still an irritant. He did not particularly care whether or not the quarry was expanded; if anything, he would almost rather the town stay small, so that he would not draw any undue attention to himself. None of the town’s residents had ever pried into his past or tried to get into his tower—he hosted the occasional visitor on the ground floor to appease the curious and deter that very behavior—outsiders might not be so courteous.
“I... shall consider it,” he finally settled on as Benil beamed up at him, and forced himself to return a tight smile.
“I knew you would,” the man said. The moment he turned away, the smile fell from Adrissu’s face.
When they arrived in the bustling center of town, a few of the townsfolk called out to them, waving to each of them in turn. Adrissu was not so reclusive that most townsfolk didn’t know him on sight; his elven ears, coiffed dark hair, and loose, cool-toned robes in the most fashionable styles all made him quickly recognizable. Benil, of course, was far more inclined to stop and talk with each of them. Adrissu took a polite step away until their conversation came to an end so they could take a few steps further into town, before Benil would start another conversation, and the cycle began anew.
Eventually, when it seemed Benil had spoken to just about every person in town, they made it to the baker’s stand. The smell of warm, fresh bread filled the air around them, comforting and homey. He had not been particularly hungry when Benil had arrived in his tower, but now the thought of fresh meat pies did sound appealing. Benil was good for the occasional free meal, at least.
True to his word, Benil bought two meat pies from Margo, the woman running the stand, and handed one to Adrissu. The pie was steaming and hot as he bit into it: the outer crust was crispy and flaky, the inside warm and savory. The chunk of mutton inside was coated in a small bit of gravy that dripped down his chin. For all that Benil irritated him, he did have a knack for getting ahold of the best food in town, despite his scrawny figure.
“So tell me more about this quarry proposal,” Adrissu said idly, as Benil swiped gravy off his mustache and licked his fingers clean. He did not particularly care, but feigning interest would be best.
“Shall we walk and talk?” the human offered, and Adrissu nodded. So they set back out again, still following the main road. Their pace remained leisurely, but once Benil started talking, he was less inclined to stop and converse with the others they passed.
“The mine could be expanded to nearly double its current capacity with just the workforce we have now,” Benil explained as they walked. “We’ve done a few exploratory surveys of the outer edges, and there should be plenty of good rock to mine for years to come. I know some folks are concerned that it will divert workers from other necessary tasks, but I don’t think that will be the case. Rather, it will help encourage new residents to come to Polimnos to work in the quarry as well as the mines. An abundance of work never hurt anyone, I’m sure.”
“And is the infrastructure in place to accommodate all these new workers coming to Polimnos?” Adrissu asked, and Benil’s smile became more strained.
“Not as yet,” he admitted. “But Polimnos grows by the day. We would be able to house young workers without families on-site, where the barracks could be expanded without much issue. As for in town, well, building more houses would only bring more business to everyone else, no? More jobs for the carpenters and all that. I mean, look at this!”
He gestured at one of the newest buildings as they passed. The large guild hall had only been finished a few months prior, and a small organization that trained and organized mercenaries was now stationed there. The building housed recruits and had two spacious courtyards for training: one hidden in the back, and one in front visible over a low stone fence. “If something like this was approved, I don’t see why an expansion of the quarry would be any worse.”
Adrissu looked out toward the guild hall. In the front courtyard, a group of young men were practicing fighting drills, and an instructor called out directions as they swung wooden swords and lifted shields—the swords were practice, but the shields looked real.
“I think it is safe to say Polimnos values fighters and protectors more than mine-workers at this stage of its growth, Benil,” he remarked. He could hear Benil start to protest, but in the yard the instructor had called for a rest, and the men were breaking out of their orderly lines and into smaller groups, chatting and passing waterskins between them.
One of the trainees turned around to face his companion, reddish-brown hair glinting in the sun, and the world around them stopped.
Adrissu’s breath hitched. Something in him snapped at the sight of the man, all of his senses honing in to focus entirely on him as everything else became blurry and distant. Was this someone else’s magic? Had he been put under a spell? Panic rose in his throat, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man. He could focus on nothing else; the visage of the man had become the entire world.
The trainee was young, hardly more than a boy, with suntanned skin and auburn hair that he was pushing out of his face. He was not even particularly handsome, though his features were narrow and his cheekbones high for someone so obviously born of common human stock. He smiled at the man passing him a waterskin, as if he had not felt the earthquake that had so shaken Adrissu.
He hadn’t felt it at all, Adrissu realized—no one else had felt it.
“Adrissu? Are you all right?”
Benil’s voice reached him, distant at first, but it was the anchor that he needed to snap himself out of whatever fugue state had overtaken him. He shook his head, raising one hand to press against his chest where his heart still thundered.
“I—” he stammered, unable to form words. Though he had come back to himself, his eyes were still locked onto the man in the courtyard, watching as he drank deeply from the waterskin, rivulets overflowing from his mouth and trickling along his jaw, down his neck until it dampened his tunic. Adrissu squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to turn his head away from the radiant sight, back toward the droll human next to him. “I... I apologize, Benil, what were you saying?”
“Are you ill? Perhaps the pie isn’t sitting well with you?” Benil fretted, his eyebrows knitting together. “I mean, mine seemed fine, but I suppose a bad one could have snuck in the batch. I feel alright. Perhaps something else, then?”
Finally, an emotion broke through the awe and terror that had overtaken Adrissu—irritation. Benil Branwood was one of the most pathetically anxious men that he had ever met. Why had he agreed to get lunch with the slimy little human?
