Yandril lifted his hands. “Bide my son. I shall not force you to shame yourself and me by asking a fourth time. There are four distinct reasons why I believe this Elfkin should meet with the king.”

  The King sat back and crossed his legs. “Not just three reasons or your preferred seven? Why four? What significance is there to four points?”

  He replied, “Because four is the number of facts that appear worthy of your attention, my King. I will not remove information important for your ears to make it three, nor will I waste your time by adding details that, while interesting, do not pertain to a matter of state that you should be made aware.”

  The King pursed his lips slightly. “We thank you for not wasting the Court’s time with unnecessary words and details, my father.”

  There was a smattering of laughter across the room, but most were watching the exchange between father and son, former king and current king, with intense attention.

  The king waved for his father to continue, refusing to ask a fourth time for him to do so.

  Yandril bowed his head in respect to the king. “First, this young human has been recognized by the dwarves as both Dwarfkin and Dwarf Master.”

  “We already learned this by his introduction.” The King interrupted.

  His father bowed his head again. “Yes, but you asked me what I found worthy of your attention and even though you learned this moments ago, it was, nevertheless, my first point.”

  The King dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “His status of Dwarkfin is not of special interest to us nor do we find it especially endearing to our Elven kingdom.”

  “I did not expect it to be. But his status as a Dwarf Master is worthy of your attention.”

  The king looked back at me after a meaningful stare at his father. He asked me, “May we please see your Master marks?”

  I rolled up my sleeves and showed him the diamond scarred tissue left over from the final step of the Dwarven Master’s trial.”

  There was more murmuring among the elves, some in surprise, others in disgust, and still others explaining what the symbols represented to those nearby.

  The King pondered me and my marks. “I acknowledge your point. I have never heard of a human being granted Dwarf Master rank among any of the Holds, let alone the rather notorious Copper Mountain Hold.”

  What is special about my Hold? I asked Bella.

  Of all the Dwarven Holds, its gates hold back the armies of undead that would unleash themselves across the Seventh Kingdom. They are well considered among all the Holds by the Elves for their courage. They are not considered fools and are highly unwilling to accept any outsiders into their Hall, even as a visitor, let alone a Dwarfkin and master such as yourself.

  Oh. I said as hope began to rise in me.

  “And while his attaining this rank is worthy of your notice, you overlook an important aspect that rises to a level of state,” Yandril added.

  The King looked back. “And what would that be, father?”

  “That he did so as an Elfkin in full knowledge of the Dwarven King of this fact,” Yandril replied calmly as if teaching a lesson to one of his talented, but obstinate students.

  The ElfKing’s eyebrows raised for a moment, and he looked back at me. “Yes, that is an interesting point I had not considered.”

  The room’s volume of murmuring rose in volume to polite, but direct conversations. There were side debates about this point’s merits and importance to the kingdom.

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  The King raised his hand casually, and the noise died down.

  He faced me once more. “How was your reception by the Dwarven King, young Elfkin?”

  He referred to you as Elfkin without sarcasm or a hint of disapproval. That’s progress! Bella stated.

  “Well, my king. My initial meeting with the Dwarven King was not very cordial.”

  “I suspect it was not.” The king said, inspiring scattered laughter across his hall.

  I continued. “The entire Dwarven Council and hundreds of citizens, including more than a fair share of soldiers, were present to question me.”

  The King nodded, seeing the current parallel. He raised his hand and indicated the hall. “I see a common thread.”

  There was more laughter, some of it not encouraging. But I added, “True, my King. But after I was questioned in open court about my skills, we were able to discuss the purpose of my arrival and a request for renewed alliance.”

  The King looked affronted. “They awarded you Dwarfkin and Dwarf Master in accordance with their own laws, and still they challenged you before an open court?”

  “Yes, my King. I took no offense as they did not know me, were concerned about centuries of tradition and culture being overturned, and were fearful that I had ambitious and covert plans to steal their secrets.”

  The King was silent, as was the hall. Clearly, more than a few elves felt this same way about me.

  “And yet, I understand that you reached an agreement and in the end, the Dwarf King called you his lost brother?”

  “The Dwarf King calls me his brother, my King, and not lost,” I emphasized the present tense.

  “I see. And the agreement you reached?” He asked.

  “It was not an agreement, my King. I did not feel that, as a mere Dwarfkin, I could negotiate with a king. He asked what aid I sought, and I told him. He granted support in his way and under his terms.”

  The King arched an eyebrow. “And what were the support and terms?”

  I recalled King Flavnar’s words as best I could. I said, “The king pondered my request for a time, and then he sat up on his throne of stone and said, ‘You asked for food and military assistance. This is my decision. Seven hundred seventy-seven dwarves, each from our three active wall brigades, will travel back with you to Keelwell. Each shall carry as much food as they can manage along with their normal equipment. This will provide 2,331 soldiers plus officers. I will also invite one of my trusted commanders to join to lead our defensive forces and advise what we know about combating goblins.’

  “The Dwarven King continued and said before his court, ‘You have asked for crafting assistance. Here is my decision. No work of dwarven craftsmanship will be demanded of any worker who has created it.’

  “I admit that my heart sank at his words, my King. But the Dwarven king added, ‘However, I order that for the next twenty-four hours, all craftsmanship of pure copper rings, crystal 7pt gemstones, onyx 28pt gemstones, tourmaline 7pt and 14pt gemstones, and topaz 7pt and 14pt gemstones are the property of brother Gwydion to take back to the city of Keelwell and be used in its defense.’”

  “Very generous.” The Elf King remarked.

  “And there was more,” I added. “He said, ‘Furthermore, you will meet with our masters to determine what can be done regarding Dwarven Copper weapons, armor, circlets, torques, bracers, and shields.’ He then asked that I receive a dwarven apprentice as due my right as a master craftsman.”

  The King asked, “And what was the final tally of support at the end of your twenty-four hours?”

  I said, “In addition to the three brigades of seven hundred seventy-seven soldiers, there were carts laden with over seven hundred 28pt polished black onyx gems, over one thousand total topaz and tourmalines of nearly equal quantity between 7pt and 14pt varieties, nearly fifteen hundred 7pt crystals; and pure copper rings intended for enchantment exceeded more than five thousand. In addition, dwarven armor was crafted for my personal guard in the style of the First Empire, and they added a supply of five hundred Dwarven Copper spearheads that would need to be assembled using Keelwell Oaks for hafts. The King also provided one hundred Dwarven Copper round shields, 77 Dwarven Copper circlets, and 70 pairs of Dwarven Copper bracers. And fourteen carts full of dry foods to help last a siege.”

  The King sat back, stunned by the magnitude of the support given by the Copper Mountain Dwarves. He turned to Rothilion. “You have confirmed these numbers, ambassador?”

  Rothilion stood. “I have, my King. I have been assured by the Duke himself that these numbers are true. In addition, the Dwarven King also personally presented Lord Gwydion with a 49pt emerald filled with casting points imbued by the Dwarven Grandmaster Conclave, 27 sets of Imperial Centurion Dwarven Copper armor and weapons for Gwydion’s personal honor guard, and a true copy of a first edition text written by Archmaster Norsil Copperthane, Damascus’s first Dwarven apprentice.”

  Rothilion then sat back down.

  All eyes in the room turned back to the King.

  After a long pause, he turned to Yandril and said, “The first of your four points shows promise, father. What is your second reason for his appearance before the crown?”

  The interest in the hall, if possible, went up another level. If this were the first and weakest of the four points, what could possibly follow?

  “Thank you, my King,” Yandril responded. “My second point does not have the drama and intrigue of war and treaties, but it is still worthy of attention.”

  The King sighed, interested in his father’s next points, regardless of his initial dismissal of them. “Please, do share with us.”

  My second point is simply this, Yandril began, “Elfkin Gwydion Istari is a treble Patron of the enchanter’s guild.”

  There was a moment of silence broken by questions throughout the room.

  “What does that even mean?” The King asked.

  The old elf who had sat across from me at my own table stood and addressed the king. “My King, as guild master of the enchanter’s guild, I can state that the language of 'treble' comes from a play on words the Archmage incorporated in the original enchantments of the guild hall Greeting Stones, also known as Identification Orbs among the humans.”

  The King nodded to the elf whose name was Plojbil Ernengtion. “And what is the significance of this ‘treble’ title?”

  When the guildmaster hesitated, Rothilion whispered to him. “The room is full of mages who already know the answer. Go ahead and say it.”

  The guild master stood a little taller and said, “There is no record of such a distinction ever being granted to a human enchanter across any age. In fact, the only reported case of it in all of Alluvion history harkens back to Archmaster Shuliath Arbestrom, first eleven apprentice to Damascus, and founder of the King’s Lodge.”

  Louder conversations broke out all across the hall, and it took an elf standing behind the King with a long, silver rune-engraved rod to step forward and bang the floor three times, each creating a progressively louder chime sound, before everyone settled down.