The Gembound: The Price of Keeping Chapter 134: Volume 5: Chapter 119 – Stone and Gifts

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Volume 5: Chapter 119 – Stone and Gifts Day 135 The peace banner came on the third afternoon, when they had done nothing more threatening than raise another catapult frame and argue very loudly about the quality of the local stone. Rosa saw it first. “Bruno,” she said. He followed her gesture. A smaller door had opened to the right of the main gates, almost invisible in the carved relief unless you knew exactly where to look. A narrow ramp descended from it, flanked by two carved pillars in the shape of axe blades. Five dwarves walked down. The one in front carried a white cloth held high on a spear, the fabric snapping in the mountain wind. His beard was braided in three tiers, silver threaded through black. Armor, old but well cared for, hugged his stocky frame, every plate etched with geometric designs. The four behind him were armed and armored, helmets on, shields slung, crossbows at their backs, but no weapons in hand. “Delegation,” Rosa said. “Or a polite firing squad,” Bruno answered. “Either way, we invite them in.” He stepped forward, Corvin and Petra falling in at his sides without needing a gesture. The rest of the Chainwolves formed a living half-circle behind them, eyes sharp, bodies still. “Raptor,” Bruno called. “Eyes on the walls.” “I already have them,” Raptor’s flat voice answered from a high ridge. “No archers in full draw. Yet.” “Good enough,” Bruno said. He walked to meet the dwarves halfway, Rosa three paces to his right, Fiara to his left with Ember Mane and Ash Hoof just behind, their flames banked but visible. The Enhanced soldiers lined up in a silent rank behind the wolves. The dwarves stopped when they were close enough for faces to be clear. The lead dwarf lowered the white banner slightly. “I am Grimnar Deepstone,” he said. His voice was rough granite, worn down more by use than age. “Shield Commander of Khaz Thorum.” “Bruno Marrick,” Bruno said. “I do not have fancy titles. I break things and make sure enough of them stay standing afterward.” That almost drew a smile from the dwarf. Almost. Rosa dipped her head politely. “Rosa Emberpalm. I keep him from breaking the wrong things.” Grimnar’s eyes flicked to her, then to Fiara, to the Nightmares, to the wolves. His gaze did not linger on any one threat. It catalogued all of them. “You are not raiders,” he said finally. “You are an army.” “Thank you,” Bruno said. “It was not a compliment,” Grimnar replied. Bruno shrugged. “It is still true.” The dwarf’s gaze returned to him. “What you want,” Grimnar said, “we cannot give.” Bruno watched him. “We have not yet told you what we want.” “You want our king to kneel to your Empress,” Grimnar said. “You want our oaths, our steel, our stone. You want our heart.” His eyes shifted very slightly toward the mountain behind him as he said that last word. Not the gates. Deeper. Bruno tucked the observation away. “We would like your oaths,” he said. “And your trade. And your sense. Your stone stays where it is. Your forges stay yours. We are not here to drag your city out of your mountain and wear it like jewelry.” Grimnar’s mouth tightened. “King Thorgrund will not yield. Stone does not bend.” Rosa stepped forward. “Stone cracks,” she said gently. “Slowly. Along lines no one sees until it is too late. We are not asking stone to bend. We are asking dwarves to choose.” Grimnar glanced at her, expression unreadable. She reached into her cloak and pulled out a wrapped packet. Not a weapon. Not a document. Bread. Proper bread. Belted loaves from Aramore, dark-crusted, heavy, with the faintest sheen of honey on top and a scattering of coarse salt. The smell cut through the thin air and the stink of smoke and soldiers: warm, yeasty, impossibly domestic. Grimnar’s nostrils flared before he could stop himself. Rosa held it out. “Your scouts know we have food routes,” she said. “Proper crops. Fruit. Honey. Grain that did not grow in mushroom beds. We are not asking you to give up stone. We are offering the surface with it.