After a sad meal, I find a cheap inn to stay at. My room is as ordinary as they come. But the bed might be some form of crime against all that is precious in this world. It actually takes me sizeable effort to fall asleep. The only reason I succeed is probably Elisa's easy-to-reach company.

***

I awaken groggy and cranky, and that's before I take my characters' emotions into consideration. I leave the accursed bed behind, hoping it spontaneously combusts in the near future.

The city in the early morning is somehow even more depressing. Being able to observe it in its entirety paints a very opposite of vivid picture. I am exaggerating a little bit, but it certainly is a far cry from Harthes. I already miss home. Home...

***

My walk finally brings me to my destination, a relatively big house in one of the highest parts of the city.

I slow my pace down, appearing lethargic and somewhat disorientated. I start looking around, confused. I start mumbling gibberish under my breath. I approach the house and pass through several barriers I can feel, and probably just as many I can't. When I reach the door, I try the handle. It doesn't open. I try again, with some more force. I mutter under my breath again and start pounding on the metal.

I shout, "Ya in there, Son! How many times have I told ya not to lock the door!"

After a few seconds, the door swings open. An angry dwarf is staring me down, but anger quickly turns into confusion when he sees my vacant expression.

He asks, "Can I help you?"

"Ya ain't my son. Who are ya?"

"I think you have the wrong house."

"Huh? Speak up." I shout at somewhere behind him, "Son! Ya in there? Who's this?"

"I think you are confused, Grandfather. Who are you looking for?"

"Didn't ya hear? My son."

"Why don't you come in and have a seat. We'll figure out where your son is, okay?"

"Aye."

The dwarf guides me in, leading me to a room with two more dwarves sitting around a table. All three have ginger hair and silvery eyes.

He pulls out a chair for me and starts explaining, "I think he's confused. Should I go fetch a healer? Or the guard?"

Another dwarf answers, "No. Not here." She stands up. "I'll take him to a station. They'll sort him out there."

Before she can take a step toward me, the third dwarf explodes into movement, shouting, "Stop!" The two other dwarves freeze, but the one that just shouted appears in front of me, ready to obliterate my head. He hesitates.

I wag my finger in his face. "No moving, or your lil' pals are gonna have a bad time, pipsqueak." Nearly invisible, metal threads are wound around the other two dwarves' necks and various other body parts. Now starting to dig slightly into their skin. The third snapped his with ease.

Harrn Gittirsson of the Hirrim clan, one of the leaders of the rebellion, asks in a low tone, "What do you want?"

"Have a seat," I answer. He stares into my eyes for a few seconds, then glances at his two children, and sits back in his chair. I slacken the strings around the male dwarf, Tiff Harrnsson, and motion at him, "You, boy, is this how you'd threat your own grandfather? Bring me a drink already." Harrn gives him a slight nod and his son scurries off, returning with a tankard full of beer. "What am I s'posed to do with this, then? I ain't drinkin' alone." He leaves it on the table and runs off again, returning with three more, spilling some of the contents on the floor. I slacken the strings around the final dwarf, Nilla Morrasdotter, as well, grab the tankard and down it with almost unnatural speed. I belch loudly and say, "Tha's good! Drink up, then!" Nilla and Harrn are looking at me with anger. Tiff takes a small sip, much to his father's dismay. "Tha's a good lad. Drink up."

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Harrn growls out, "What do you want?"

I ignore him, reaching over and grabbing his still full tankard, downing it as well. "Much better than the piss they call beer in this city. Brew it yourself?"

He tries me again, his tone measured, "What do you want? Who are you?"

I slam my fist on the table, causing all three to flinch. No one speaks. I slam my fist again. And again. And again.

Something clicks for Harrn, his eyes growing wide. He whispers, "Stonefist."

"Who did you think it was? The emperor himself!" I cackle wildly, choking a little, and ending with a coughing fit. I release my metal threads fully. The two dwarves relax their bodies, relieved. "You're dead. Real sad."

Harrn is still looking angry, but there is something else hidden beneath. "Why are you here? And why do"—he gestures with indignation—"this."

"Gotta see who I'm throwing in my lot with." I exhale a loud sigh. "You're so pathetic, I can't even walk away now. Not to worry, though, I'll whip you into shape."

Nilla asks with trepidation, "So it's time?" I nod. A rabid smile forming on my lips.

Tiff turns to Harrn. "Are you sure it's him, Father?"

Harrn nods. "It's him, alright." Yup, that's me. One of the other leaders of the rebellion. And five more leaders, too. And around three thousand rebels. Quite the resume I am building up here. "How did the talks go? Do you have any up-to-date information?"

I frown. "So-so. Someone tried a hit." All three look surprised. "It will get leaked soon, but one of the elves died. I don't know what those fuckers were planning or who did it. There's whispers that both were involved, but from what I've heard, our two friends broke up. Very messy separation." I begin cackling at my own excuse of a joke.

Nilla asks, "Does this mean the emperor won't incite any hostilities now?"

I shake my head. "No. It only delayed the inevitable. He'll start spinning the attack to gain support, and they'll start feeling each other out with small engagements. That's where we come in. While Iffir and Xyll are busy fucking with each other, we are going to sow chaos throughout the empire." I scratch my head in thought. "You got someone trusted that can teleport. As you can see, I am a little light on luggage." I tap at my empty pockets a few times.

Harrn answers, "A few people."

Another Nilla appears out of nowhere and adds, "I would be one of them."

Then another Tiff appears as well. He waves his hand, and the two extra copies blink out, disappearing.

A grin starts forming on my face. "Ha! We might actually pull this off without dying a fiery death!" I start cackling again. The two take their original seats while I calm down. Then I turn to Tiff. "You messed up, though." He tilts his head to the side. "The beer level didn't change. It was a good decision to use actual beer, but you need to keep all details consistent." Harrn shakes his head. He saw it as well. That was the single indicator that I was able to catch. If I wasn't aware of his capabilities beforehand, I would have had no idea. Fooled my current sensors and mana senses completely.

Tiff grimaces at the drink and drains it. "How do we proceed?" he asks.

"For today, we take it easy. Listen and wait. I am pretty sure no one suspects my true purpose for being here, but I am not in the business of taking any chances. How do you think I got this old in the first place!" I shake my head at my own antics, smiling. "You wouldn't mind lending a tired old dwarf a bed to sleep in, right?"

Harrn sighs, releasing some built-up pressure. "Of course not, Stonefist. You are most welcome in our home."

"Thanks. My name's Belhir, by the way." I motion at Nilla. She rolls her eyes, and her still full tankard slides toward me. I gulp it down greedily. "Really good. Wasn't kidding about the beer. And don't get me started on the blasted bed I slept in last night..." That one really got to me.

Tiff asks me again, "And tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow..." I say, starting to think. After a few seconds, I continue, "Send word to everyone you have contact with. We are opening with the transportation network. No change in previously designated locations."

Tiff nods and pulls out a polished stone. He taps the completely mundane rock against the table in a set pattern. After a few seconds, the rock buzzes in his hand once. He then starts tapping a longer message. When he finishes, he stands up and goes to get some more beer, returning with a small barrel. Tiff refills our tankards. We clank them together in silence and drink.

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