The walk from the Central Archives to The Hearth & Ember went quickly, though the entire time they were walking, the tension from meeting Yona lingered in the air between Klarion and Hatsune. The Leporine said little after their last exchange, but her focus on their surroundings and the way her ears occasionally twitched betrayed her unease. For his part, Klarion tried to focus on the upcoming meeting with his friends, but his thoughts kept returning to Yona’s words, her presence, and the tentative alliance they had formed. It was strange. A month ago, he would have been shocked into insensibility at how strange her appearance was, but within less than a week of getting started at the Imperial Academy, she barely merited a second glance, given all the other races he had seen in passing. Though he was still well behind in many things, it was strange how quickly he had adapted to learning that humans were so very far from the only advanced sapient life in existence.


    Pushing away the idle thoughts, as they had no bearing on his survival at the moment, Klarion turned his attention to the sense of welcome that practically seemed to radiate from the building that was The Hearth & Ember. Though he felt somewhat guilty at the thought, he couldn’t help hoping that other scions hadn’t yet discovered Ordran’s establishment yet. The faint scent of roasting meat and spices wafted out from the tavern, carried by a cool breeze, making Klarion’s stomach rumble in anticipation.


    Hatsune led the way, pushing open the heavy oak door, the comforting hum of conversation and clinking cutlery enveloped them both as they went inside. The tavern was busier than on his previous visits, but not quite so much that it could be considered crowded. He felt the instinctive tightening in his shoulders relax slightly as he saw not groups of scions eating at tables but rather a good number of older dwarves scattered around tables laden with food and drink. A quick glance showed each was completely bereft of the uniform that indicated an enrolled scion.


    The room grew quiet as attention turned to Klarion and Hatsune standing just inside, the door not yet closed. A grim dwarf, his face practically carved from granite and with hair on his head and face whiter than most, made eye contact with Klarion from across the room. If possible, the look on his face grew even more dour. As he made to stand, a number of dwarves at the nearby tables tensed and made to do the same. Hatsune tensed, stepping in front of him, her hand reaching down for the hilt of her longsword. Before she could draw it, a voice rang out.


    “Ah, there ye are!” Ordran’s deep, gravelly voice called out as he stepped from behind the bar.


    “Been wonderin’ when ye two would show up,” Ordran continued as he walked over to them, wiping his hands on a cloth tucked into his belt. The old, white-haired dwarf and his companions froze, half out of their seats behind him. “Go on, take yer usual spot. I’ll be right with ye once I finish up in the kitchen. Got a new roast on the spit that can’t be left to its own devices, y’see.”


    “Thanks, Ordran, we’ll be—” Klarion started to reply with a smile as Hatsune relaxed slightly at their friend’s greeting before an angry growl came from the seated dwarf with the white hair.


    “Ordran!” the old dwarf barked, his voice thick with anger. “Who do ye think ye be sittin’? That human scion — what’s he doing here, in a respectable dwarven tavern?” He slammed his gnarled hand on the table in front of him, causing the tankards and plates to rattle. ”A pampered one like him, comin’ in and makin’ himself comfortable while true, hardworkin’ dwarves like us simply want a fine meal away from his kind! Why do ye let him in, eh?!“


    Ordran’s eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing with barely-contained ire of his own. The previous welcoming gleam in his eyes shifted, a steely look overcoming his face as he turned to look over at the other dwarf. The tavern, quiet before, went silent.


    “Ye have a problem with him, Vuldrin?” Ordran growled back, his voice low, carrying the weight of an old legionnaire who had faced worse than an old dwarf with a vendetta against scions. “Klarion’s no different than any other patron in my tavern. He’s got manners, which is more than I can say for ye sometimes.”


    The mention of Klarion’s name caused the old dwarf’s face to redden further. “Manners, eh? Ha! A scion, I tell ye! And ye let him sit there like he’s like one o’ us — like he’s earned his keep and was not just born to it!”


    Ordran’s fists clenched at his sides. He stood straight, shoulders squared, the muscle memory of his legionnaire training flaring back to life from the embers it usually lingered as. The rest of the dwarves, sensing if not seeing the shift, began to murmur about the confrontation. They went quiet once more when Ordran finally responded.


    “Klarion,” Ordran said, his voice rising, “has never demanded anything from me. He’s never asked for special treatment, despite his rank. Unlike some highborn nobles I’ve known, he doesn’t expect anyone to bow or cater to his whims.” He paused, glaring at Vuldrin with, if possible, even greater intensity. “The human even complimented my cooking, something that I don’t hear from the normal pompous lot that wanders in through these doors. He’s got more humility than the majority of the scions I served under in the Legions, so don’t ye dare talk about him like he doesn’t belong!”


    Vuldrin’s mouth opened, but the words caught in his throat as he tried to process the words. Ordran shifted, his gaze never leaving the old dwarf’s.


    “And if ye don’t like it,” Ordran spat, “ye can leave. Ain’t no room for that kind o’ attitude here.”


    Vuldrin blinked, his fury mixing with a moment of shock as he tried to hold Ordran’s gaze, but the weight of the veteran’s words hung heavy in the air. A tense silence lingered for a moment, before Vuldrin grunted in disbelief. He turned away to sink back into his chair, and it scrapped as he settled into it. His fellow dwarves, after a moment, followed suit, though not daring to grumble as they sat down, too intimidated to challenge Ordran’s commanding presence.


    The older dwarf cowed, Ordran let out a slight sigh, his anger simmering down to a manageable level. He turned to Klarion, who hadn’t moved during the confrontation.


    “Go on then,” Ordran gave him a small nod, “Like I said, yer usual table’s open.”


    “Thank you, Ord—my friend,” Klarion replied with a smile that was mirrored on Ordran’s face.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    “Of course, lad,” Ordran smiled. “Far prefer ye and yer friends to the other pompous brats who come here every once in a while. Now, I’ll be over in a few to get yer order.”


    As Ordran went back into the kitchen, Klarion turned with Hatsune to head over to the table they had previously used. As they settled into their chairs, Hatsune setting their things that she had carried beside her, Klarion glanced again around the room, noting that all the other patrons had returned to their meals and conversations. He was a bit surprised at the number of dwarves present, but given that The Hearth & Ember likely attracted a mix of students and staff perhaps it was to be expected. He felt himself relax deeper into his chair. This tavern was one of the few places at the Imperial Academy where Klarion felt he could truly unwind, away from the constant pressure and intrigue of other scions.


    Hatsune shifted in her seat, her eyes still scanning the room of dwarves warily. Still on edge, her ears twitched at every loud movement one of the other patrons made.


    “Relax,” Klarion told her. “Given Ordran’s reaction to Vuldrin, and the fact there are no other scions here right now, this is probably the safest place on campus.”


    “It’s not the tavern I’m worried about,” Hatsune muttered.


    Klarion sighed, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward towards his bodyguard. “Well, that is why we are here, waiting for Valdre and Redrek.”


    Before Hatsune could respond, Ordran came over to the table, carrying two steaming mugs. He set them down on the table, the rich aroma of spiced cider wafting up from them.


    “There ye go, somethin’ to warm ye up while ye wait,” Ordran said, his grin broad. “And don’t worry, I didn’t add anythin’ too strong to it. Just enough to take the edge off.”


    “Thanks, Ordran,” Klarion said, lifting the mug and taking a sip. The cider was sweet and tangy, with just a hint of warmth from whatever spirit the dwarf had added. It was perfect after the day he had just had.


    “Shouldn’t be long now,” Ordran continued, straightening up. “The roast is nearly done, and I’ve got some fresh bread coming out of the oven. Ye won’t be disappointed, I promise ye that.”


    “We never are,” Hatsune said, her tone softer than before, though her expression remained guarded.


    Ordran gave her a knowing look, then clapped a hand on Klarion’s shoulder. “Good lad, this one. Always clears his plate, unlike some of ye younger folk. Keep yer appetite up, Klarion. Ye’ll need it if yer gonna keep runnin’ circles ‘round the other scions.”


    Klarion chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll do my best.”


    With that, Ordran returned to the kitchen, leaving Klarion and Hatsune to savor their drinks. Klarion watched him go. The grey-bearded dwarf’s gruff demeanor hid a warm heart, something that Klarion had come to appreciate. Ordran never fawned over him or treated him with the cautious reverence that others often did once they saw the mark of his House on his uniform. To Ordran, Klarion was just another hungry customer — and that was a refreshing gift.


    Klarion settled back into his chair, enjoying the comforting crackle of the hearth nearby and the calm it brought after the last two days. Hatsune, though still a bit tense, appeared to be beginning to relax a bit more as she sipped her drink. With the Leporine watching the rest of the room, lost in her thoughts, Klarion pulled out the book on House Blacksword’s history. The book was the first key to understanding where he came from and, perhaps most importantly, why he was being targeted on campus by the other scions. He knew he didn’t have enough time now, but he intended to at least get started reading the book before the night ended.


    Before he could consider the book further, Hatsune’s ears twitched to the door of The Hearth & Ember, and she turned to look. The heavy door jerked open, and a large man in armor stepped inside that Klarion recognized immediately. Garran. Stepping in behind him was his charge, the half-frost elf Valdre. Muttering something under his breath, Klarion’s half-elven friend was soon joined by the hobgoblin scion, Redrek. Bringing up the rear was Kael, who kept his body angled to keep one eye on the street until he pulled the door closed behind him. While Klarion had expected his friends and their bodyguards to meet them, he had not expected them to be quite so on edge. Perhaps something had happened.


    Dwarven heads turned as a draft swept into the room. Glancing over, Klarion saw that Vuldrin had that same angry scowl on his face from earlier, but one piercing glare from Ordran behind the bar kept the troublemaking old dwarf firmly in his chair. It didn’t stop him from muttering something to the other dwarves who shared his table, however. Something that brought grim looks to their faces.


    “Klarion!” Valdre called out, his voice carrying over the sounds of the tavern. The half-frost elf’s tone was urgent. His piercing ice-blue eyes locked onto Klarion as he rushed over, the others behind him.


    Klarion exchanged a glance with Hatsune, who sighed and muttered under her breath, “So much for a quiet dinner.”


    His friends reached the table in no time. Valdre arrived first, an urgent look on his face. Garran remained a step behind him, scanning the room with a watchful gaze, much like Hatsune did whenever she was on the lookout for threats. Redrek and Kael brought up the rear. If it were possible, they looked even more tense than the half-frost elf did.


    “What’s going on?” Klarion asked as he put the book back away.


    “We need to talk,” Valdre said, his voice low and serious. Without waiting for an invitation, Valdre and then Redrek sat down in chairs facing Klarion and Hatsune. Garran and Kael followed suit, though their gazes continued to drift around the room, expressions unreadable.


    “Everything alright?” Klarion pressed, glancing between the two scions. He had expected them to be upset, but everything from how they arrived to how they sat staring at him now told Klarion that something else was going on.


    “That depends,” Redrek said, his sharp teeth flashing as he settled into his chair. “Ordran’s serving that roast special tonight, isn’t he?”


    “Redrek,” Vldre said, his voice filled with equal parts exasperation and amusement. “Focus.”


    Almost as if the hobgoblin’s words had summoned him, the heavy footfalls of Ordran sounded by the bar as the veteran dwarf made his way over to their table. He moved swiftly, a smile on his face at seeing the two other scions already sitting.


    “Well, well,” Ordran said, glancing at the two latest arrivals and their bodyguards. “I expected to see ye all tonight, what with Klarion being here, but not quite in the rush ye came in with.” He looked over the table as a whole, then asked, “What’ll it be, then?”


    “I’ll have the special,” Redrek said immediately, his fanged grin widening. “I could smell that roast practically down the street from here.”


    Kael gave a brief nod as the dwarf’s gaze landed on him. “Same.”


    Garran, the quietest of the group, still had an eye on the door, but he grunted in agreement with Kael’s order.


    “And for you, Valdre?” Ordran asked, arching a bushy eyebrow at the half-frost elf.


    “Can you make me something vegetarian again tonight?” Valdre asked politely.


    “Aye, I’ve got somethin’ for ye,” Ordran replied with a smile, likely having expected the request from Valdre. “Matter a’fact, it’s been cooking for a few hours now, since I was expectin’ ye to come tonight. I’ll bring it out with the rest.”


    “Perfect, thank you,” Valdre said, offering a smile of his own.


    Ordran turned to Klarion and Hatsune. “Ye want the special as well, lad?”


    “Of course,” Klarion said with a nod.


    Hatsune hesitated for a moment before she nodded as well. “Same for me.”


    “Good choice,” Ordran said, clapping his hands together, looking again at the others. “I’ll get it all sorted. Drinks’ll be out first for ye four, aye? Sit tight.”


    As the dwarf returned to the kitchen, Klarion turned his attention back to Valdre and Redrek, his expression expectant. “Alright, you’ve got my attention. What’s going on?”