"THE assassin belonged to one of the merchant guilds headed by the Karvels. Our authorities have seized key family members, and their assets will be taken by the State. Their buildings, ships, factories and trade rights will be divided among the bidding Guilds."

A dwarf constable handed Nasuada an unfurled scroll, and she nodded politely, unable to read the markings found on the parchment. She sat at a long table, various high dwarf families sitting either side of her, continuing down on the left and right, until the occupied seats lead to the King. The dwarf was huge, muscular and fearsome, but his black eyes shined with what could only be described as harsh kindness. Nasuada settled in her chair as the various dwarf family heads spoke among themselves, over a plate of freshly steamed greens and select slices of cave-pig. She had learned the names of some of the dwarves who sat with her. The most prominent among them were the Gohns, Yezziks, and Nystes. It was Vermal Nyste who spoke now. He had smooth white skin and blonde hair, tied into a long knot behind his handsome face. He wore a red cape that hung loosely around his sculpted shoulders, revealing his collarbones as a white tunic lazily sagged around his frame.

"I am dreadfully sorry that you had to witness such horrors, Nasuada." Vermal said, compassion in his voice. Several of the dwarves muttered agreement, and Vermal raised his cup.

"I purpose a toast. To grant Nasuada, and this ground-breaking alliance, long life and prosperity." Vermal raised his cup.

"Atana!" He cried.

"Atana!" The rest of the dwarves sounded, lifting their glasses. Nasuada bowed her head respectfully as the sound of cups rekindling their touch with stone tables was heard. Vermal flashed Nasuada a handsome smile.

"It is good your warrior was there, or else our grand King would lie dead. And nothing could be worse in these trying times." Vermal said, looking away. The King could not speak Ulnar, but he nodded anyway. It was one of the Gohns who spoke next. Yolar Gohns was an old dwarf with a graybeard that rose from his chin and was wrapped around his forehead, a snaking and dreadlocked strand, thick and almost humorous. He was fat, but Nasuada could tell that in his youth, he might have been a great warrior.

"We have already overviewed your terms," He said, licking his lips. A Yezzik spoke up next.

"They are very agreeable."

Of course they are, Nasuada thought. Orrin had offered them free-trade within all of his land, untaxed and unopposed. Should they win the war, human traders would have to work through dwarf guilds, which would give dwarves complete control of the market. They were foolish terms, but it was not Nasuada's place to criticize Orrin.

"I am glad they are to your liking, my lords." Nasuada said, smiling.

Kermal lifted his pointed chin.

"But there is something else. Something that I purposed."

"Nasuada held her breath.

"We Nyste are among the greatest of the merchant families. Second only to the Royal House, of course. In fact, should anything happen to the King and his son, Prince Orik, our family would be the one to which the crown would pass. Namely, I would be King." Kermal informed. He paused, took a sip of wine, and continued.

"In such an event that they should die, this alliance needs to be tied not only with ink, but with blood. My sister, Naise Nyste, is of fitting age and station to be married to your Orrin. In our custom, it is often that various agreements, even those pertaining to sales or joint-stock account alliances, are sealed with marriage."

Orrin won't like this. But what choice do we have? We need their support.

"I am Orrin's voice, I am his eyes. I am his mind. Do not think of me as simply his stand-in, think of me as His Grace himself. I agree to these . . . adapted terms." She bowed her head in agreement.

"I am glad we could reach a civil conclusion, Orrin." Kermal joked, and a light gust of laughter passed over them. A long scroll was brought up before the dwarf King, and after a shrill dwarf, who was literally a dwarf, read off the contents in their strange tongue. After nearly fifteen minutes, the dwarf King scrawled his signature onto the paper. There was a silent clapping and the slight clang of cups in approval, as the High Lords of the dwarves imagined all of the gold they would make. Nasuada closed her eyes, praying.

It is all done. Orrin, please do not make a fool of things. We've done so much, gone so far. We cannot allow ourselves to fall due to your follies.

Nasuada opened her eyes, greeted by a young dwarf who presented his hand.

"May I escort you to your carriage, my Lady?" He asked. Nasuada gave him a smile.

"That would be nice, thank you." She said.

"HIS NAME is Murtagh."

Vermal watched as Tronjhem slid past, the sound of their six-legged Naoli pulled them forward. Dwarves went about their business, unaware of what was happening right before their eyes.

Vermal peeled his gaze from the window of his carriage, and looked at a fellow dwarf who sat opposite to him, nearly sinking in the carriage's over-zealous amount of pillows and cushions.

"Murtagh? I see."

"Do you want him killed?"

Vermal pursed his lips.

"No, not yet. I want him watched. Find out everything you can about him. Does he have a family name?"

"Not that we have found so far, Tenar."

"Keep searching. I don't care if you have to rip apart every library in the land, you will find out what this boy is. He is too skilled to be a simple guard. Something about his blood reeks of nobility."

He looked at the dwarf, who had black hair and a chubby face.

"What is your name?"

"Olyvar Dagger."

Vermal laughed softly as their carriage rocked, traffic choking the streets.

"You secondsons pick strange names for yourselves."

"Our surname indicates our trade, Tenar."

Vermal inspected his nails.

"Most secondsons don't use High Dwarib honorifics."

Olyvar smiled, revealing a sheet of dusky yellow teeth.

"I was tutored before I joined the Guild."

Assassin Guilds. They had been outlawed five hundred years ago, but nearly every major Family funded one. The Nyste had several, in fact. But it was a general rule of thumb to never employ your own Assassin Guild to carry out a killing, so most families ended up hiring Assassin's from other families, some of which are actually employed by their enemies. Like most dwarib things, it was an overly-complex system, a large book of taboos and foolish traditions holding them back in the social mire of keeping appearances.

Damn that treaty.

Kermal frowned. The failed Assassination had at least ridded him of another competitor, but it is a pale victory, as opposed to being Gun-nam Gun-la.

To think that we dwarves ally ourselves to humans . . .

Still, in a way, it was good the killing failed. He had more time to prepare, more time to plan. His sister would marry the Human King, and he knew that the action would be prosperous for him. It would take time, years, in fact. But in the end he would rule, and cut off all outside affairs in Alagaesia, and focus on the New World they had discovered decades ago. Colonization was a slow process, but he would increase the focus, enthrall the dwarib into a renewed vigor. The entire world was at their fingertips . . . and the dwarib were content to stagnate underground.

"Do not fail me." Vermal said to Olyvar as he finished his musings. Olyvar gave him a sly smile.

"Failure is not possible. Not for Olyvar Dagger."

Vermal gave Olyvar a patient smile.

"We shall see."