Atra esterni ono thelduin,

It was brought to my attention that I did not provide a timeline for my previous chapter. Each of these is set approximately 500 years after the end of Inheritance, unless otherwise stated.

And now, for the second part in this installation of adventure... the tale of the first dwarven Rider.

When news reached the kingdom of the dwarves that the pact between the dragons and the various races of Alagaesia had been altered to include them as well, there were mixed reactions, to say the least. Some saw it as the beginning of a new age, where they were considered equals despite their status as the eldest race. Some saw it as an insult that there was no due process to consider such a momentous decision, which affected every clan and every knurlan. Most, however, saw it as an affront to their very way of life, and the mannerisms in which they most loved to live. Carving intricate tunnels, and finding beautiful gems were what they deemed worthy pursuits of one's talents. Who among them would ever deign to leave the ground their bones were made of, in pursuit of adventure with a race of monstrous lizards that nearly caused the destruction of their entire species?

Krevik, that's who. Krevik was an oddity among the clans. He had been abandoned at birth at the gates of Tronjheim. His parents had never come forward, and there was no clan he could call his own. As such, he spent much of his life in search of meaning where there was none for him. He never had a father to teach him how to see the grain of the rock, so that he might chisel it away into the naturally beautiful shapes hidden within. He never had a mother who could tell him exactly why a girl's heart ticked, so that he might find someone to begin his own family with. Thus, he never connected deeply with any one kurla, save for his mentor.

As a youth, he stayed in a sort of orphanage. There were precious few dwarves who would condemn their children to the fate that Krevik had seen since the day of his birth, and as such, there really weren't any proper orphanages in any of the dwarf cities. Instead, he was given a room in the back of the kitchen where he was tended to by the cook's assistant. One day, playing as children do, he accidentally broke a butter knife that he'd found and fancied as a sword. The assistant, knowing he'd be blamed for his careless watch over the young knurla, was furious at Krevik. He told Krevik that if the youth did not procure a replacement, there would be great judgement awaiting him.

Not knowing where, or even how, to look for a replacement knife, Krevik spent most of the rest of that day mourning his err, which he believed would prove to be fatal. Thus, when the stress became too much for the poor boy to bear, he uttered a feral shout, jamming the two pieces of the knife back together. There, in his hands, Krevik suddenly held a single piece of metal. The knife had mended itself, apparently of its own free will. Krevik was astonished, and rushed to show the cook's assistant what he had done. Upon seeing the flawless repair of the butter knife, the assistant rushed to his great-grandmother, a knurla who practiced magic by herself, living deep in caves far away from any of her race. When he brought Krevik to her, she was delighted and said to him, "Here is one who truly possesses the gift. I can feel it in him. There is much potential in this young knurla. I will train him, for I fear without the proper training, he would become the very downfall of the land."

Thus, Krevik spent the next fifty years studying the ancient language with the great-grandmother of the cook's assistant, far away from any prying eyes or ears. He showed great promise from his first lesson; quickly mastering the runes and written language. His speech took some more time, as he had never been taught how to properly enunciate words in the dwarven language, and the old lady spoke with an accent so thick, he might've mistaken it for human speech. Nonetheless, through constant persistence and unwavering patience, he quickly learned all she knew, and was instructed in how to cast some of the more complex spells that she had personally designed.

One day, she said to him, "Krevik, I have taught you all that I can. I have never seen a more gifted magician. Nor would I have ever expected to be fortunate enough to train him. I know now that our time is coming to an end, and as your mentor, there are only a few more scraps of knowledge that I must impart to you. Knurlan will not be pleased when you emerge from these tunnels. Magic like the magic you possess, it is not commonly found or understood, and they fear that which they do not understand. Therefore, I implore you to seek out lands beyond these mountains. Surely there is someone out there who can carry on the work which I have started in you. You are a good knurla, of pure heart and flawless morality. Yet you cannot let this cloud your judgement. All of us are subject to temptation, and all of us will fall to it at one point or another. This does not make us bad, but we must recognize when we slip, and then we must correct the path we walk so that it is the straight and narrow path of a morally intact person.

"There is a land that I heard whisper of in my childhood, far to the north of here, where there are beings of great magical prowess. Perhaps here, you shall find your place. Perhaps here, there will be a home for you that you have not had the opportunity to embrace among your own people. My heart bleeds for you, fair Krevik, but I must implore you to forsake these stones in search of a place to belong. Fear not, for there are many friends beyond these caves. But guard your heart, lest the impure seek to twist your trust to their advantage. Everyone has their own purposes, and it would be folly to forget that they're more often than not, in pursuit of these purposes, whether they appear to be helping you or not.

"Trust the werecats, for they have never been known to lie. The other races, which have arrived here after the knurlan were created, I know precious little about. As it were, I'm having trouble even recalling what it is they call themselves. But the werecats; the werecats you can trust. Go now, Krevik. Go out and search the world for your purpose; for your calling. Go out and make old Haemna proud."

With these words, and a song of loneliness upon his lips, Krevik left the only person to treat him like someone of value. He left Haemna in her tunnels, and departed for the lands to the north that she spoke of. He was young by the standards of dwarves when he departed from the Beors; only 67 years of age. Yet he knew enough about gramyre that he was afraid of very little. He should have been more wary.

Thus begins the tale of Krevik, the first dwarven Rider. Shall he find a more hospitable environment to the north? Or shall the creatures beyond the Beor Mountains be as seclusive as the knurlan with which he found no favor? Where exactly will he end up? Will my pizza ever be delivered? We shall all have to wait and see...

The replies to the readers;

This is the section of the chapter where I respond to any and all comments made upon the previous chapter, present at the time of my writing this chapter. Thus far, I only have one review, so this will be quick and painless.

TheNerf12: I believe I answered one of your queries in the above A/N. As far as The Boss, he was an original of mine, a sort of criminal mastermind pulling the strings of the underbelly of Surda. It is unlikely that I will bring him back, but if I need to, perhaps he shall make a reappearance.

Thank you all for reading, and please add me to your favorites so you'll get updates on my progress!

Un atra mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr,

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