Chapter 166: Chapter 166 - Small Politics
"Lunt, how are you doing?" A stocky dwarf greeted the master smith with a firm clap on the shoulder.
Lunt was meeting a mix of political allies, professional contacts, and old friends in a private room of a trusted tavern. The tavern's owner, an old companion from his days when he played an active role in the smith's guild, had ensured their privacy, allowing the group to speak freely.
"Doing as well as ever. And yourself?" Lunt replied.
"Fine, as always—though things could always be better," the dwarf muttered. His eyes shifted to the tall, hooded figure standing silently beside Lunt. "And who's this?" he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.
A sharp intake of breath swept through the room as the name registered. Vell pulled back his hood, revealing his pale face and stark white hair. His crimson eyes gleamed in the firelight, striking a sharp contrast to the warm, earthy tones of the dwarves around him. The golden-threaded runes on his black robes shimmered faintly, their decorative appearance doing little to quell the unease his presence evoked.
"Greetings," Vell said, inclining his head slightly, his calm voice cutting through the thick silence.
"Why have you brought in an outsider, Lunt?" asked the same dwarf, now stepping back warily. "And someone like him?"
The air grew heavy with tension as the other dwarves turned their attention to Vell, their eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and unease. Lunt, ever composed, raised a hand to still the quiet murmurs.
"Because," Lunt began, his voice steady and resolute, "our people are at a crossroads. We need allies—strong ones. Master Vellichor isn't here to interfere; he's here to help."
The dwarf who had spoken first, a grizzled elder with streaks of silver in his braided beard, by the name of Skarn, stepped closer. He was a respected figure in their circles, but he was known for his wariness of outsiders.
"Help? From an outsider? And not just any outsider, but the Dread Mage Vellichor?" Skarn's voice was heavy with suspicion. "What could someone like him possibly want with us?"
Vell's red eyes flicked to Skarn, his gaze as piercing as the point of a spear.
When he spoke, his voice was calm and friendly, though any warmth in his tone was lost on the dwarves.
"I have no interest in your lands, your gold, or your politics—if that's what you fear. My interest lies in... affection. Loyalty, friendship." He let the words settle before continuing. "And so, I've come to support Lunt as the next lord of the Great Mine."
The room erupted into chaos. Voices overlapped—some shouting, others muttering under their breath.
Lunt was prepared for this reaction and held his ground, his hands gripping the edges of the table.
"Quiet!" barked Skarn, his booming voice cutting through the commotion. The room fell silent, though discontent lingered in the air. Fixing Vell with a hard stare, Skarn pressed, "Backing Lunt? Why? What's in it for you, mage?"
Vell tilted his head slightly, as though weighing how much to say. "What's in it for me?" he repeated softly. "Nothing. No gold, no land, no claim. I am here because a friend asked for my aid, and I do not take such requests lightly. You know of my past, my reputation—I have earned the title you so scornfully spit. But I have no intention of imposing my will here. Lunt just has my friendship. That is all."
Skarn folded his arms across his broad chest. "And what makes you think Lunt's the right choice? He's a smith, not a ruler."
Straightening his shoulders, Lunt met Skarn's gaze unflinchingly. "I may be a smith, Skarn, but I've spent my life in the forges, working beside our people, listening to their struggles. I know their needs, their fears, and their hopes. What they need now is a leader who serves them—not someone who serves their own ambition."
A younger dwarf with auburn hair and a neatly trimmed beard leaned forward from his seat. "Even if that's true, bringing in an outsider—especially someone like the Dread Mage—will raise questions. Do you think the other lords will just stand by and accept this so easily?"
Vell stepped forward, gaining the undivided attention of every dwarf in the room. "That's exactly why I'm here. My reputation, as much as it unsettles you, is a tool. It will force hesitation among your opponents. No one will act recklessly while they believe I am watching."
His words hung in the air, their weight pressing down on the gathered dwarves. They exchanged uncertain glances, some nodding in reluctant agreement, others still wary.
Skarn, however, remained resolute. "And what happens when they do act? When they realize this is nothing more than a bluff?"
A faint smile crossed Vell's lips, cold and devoid of humor. "Then they will learn that I am not as far removed as they might hope."
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone