Chapter 13: First Encounters

I watch as you sleep, without me draining your power, you grow stronger still. Your spark is brighter, your mind is wider, your soul grows more beautiful. Was I truly the cause? Forgive me, Illy. I cannot tell you yet.

Year of Wrath 1232, Season of life D.2 Ilgor

   The amount of questions was already making an ear splitting headache threaten to crack my skull in two. Too many voices, too many ways to politely say no. Too many people pushing cameras in my face, too many questions about how old I was. Too many of these humans thinking I was too young to lead, too many of these people thinking their opinion matters to me. When Gjorn opened the door to the study at the top of the Wayfare Guild tower, the blessedly sweet silence washed over me. 

   Marching to the first comfortable chair I could find, which just happened to be behind the only desk in the room. I paid no mind to the series of notes and unsent letters, humming a tune that eased the migraine that was threatening to hang up curtains. Feeling my own magic heal the swelling in my skull, easing the pain with just a few notes. Lying back in that chair, a thick cushion that was far too large for a Goblin to ever have been the intended ass in this seat.

   Shutting my eyes, hearing Gjorn shut the door behind him. There were only two sets of footfalls in the room. Without opening my eyes, I asked. "Where did Halgier go?"

   "He had other matters to attend to. Might I say, though, Illy. You handled yourself brilliantly today." Gjorn's voice responded sagely, and the sound of a bottle was set down at the desk. 

   Opening my eyes at the noise, I saw that God's Eye's was staring at me with a surprised look on her face. "What?" I asked. 

   "I didn't realize you could heal yourself." She said slowly, eyeing Gjorn. I watched him try to subtly wave his hand before she took a seat at the desk. 

   I wondered what that was about before answering her. "Gjorn tells me it isn't common." She seemed different now; she wasn't this bubbly, flirtatious person that she put on for the rest of the humans. "I am told that it should have taken years off my life by now, but my Mother before me, and her Mother before her, and her Mother's Mother could do so without any ill effect."

   "I see," Odeza said somewhat stoically. She kept switching demeanors without meaning to. Or she didn't know how to react to me. 

   "Will you drop the act, woman?" I said, pouring myself a glass from the bottle. Watching her squirm without answering, Gjorn side-eyed her from the rim of his own glass. "What is it between you two? You two are acting odd. You especially, Gjorn. I have barely talked with Odeza here, and I can tell there isn't something right." 

   Gjorn sighed, setting his glass back down. "We cannot tell you." 

   Steeping my voice with power, I tried again. "Why?" That snapped Odeza's eyes to me, which only widened in surprise again. While Gjorn flicked his eyes up to me with a warning in them.

   "Governor Ilgor, I would suggest you not try that again." He responded coolly. 

   Rolling my eyes, I tipped the rest of the glass back. "Won't you have a drink with us, Miss Odeza?" 

   "I," She tried before Gjorn answered for her. 

    "She cannot, a religious matter." He just lied to me, and he knew I knew it, going off the look in his eyes. 

   "What are you really like? You are not the talkative, bubble girl you were in the council chambers. Why make this request to come up here sound like some kind of courting request?" I asked, testing where I could push around Gjorn at the moment. 

   "I am me," She answered as a smile finally crossed her lips. Though Gjorn wasn't subtle enough, I watched the twitch of his ear before she answered. "You are quite a bit sharper than I anticipated." She said sweetly. 

   "You have to be when you have lived the life I have," I told her. Peeling away the situation going around me. She clearly was either a subordinate to Gjorn, or a prisoner. Eyeing Gjorn, who rolled his eyes back at me. 

   "Enough, Ilgor. Odeza is an ally and a valuable asset to you and me." He said, pouring himself another glass. 

   "Does she have to be so obvious about the fact that she is beneath you?" I asked. "Why hide it at all?" Odeza's face went red at that. An oddly cute thing on her, I noted. 

   "She isn't beneath me, just on our mission, she is." That got my interest. "You, Ilgor, as I have stated, are a very important person to us." 

   "Then, Odeza, why send me that letter. Gjorn was surprised to see it, and that portal rune that I tried to read out loud." I asked, trapping my fingers on the desk. 

   "You could read it?" She asked incredulously. 

Year of Wrath 1232, Season of life D.2 Emily and Atrimir

   Emily stepped off the platform, wheeling Atrimir along after a less-than-graceful jostle as his wheelchair hit the stone walkway. The hiss of the train behind them threatened to pull their hats away from them. The golden stars on their traveling uniforms caught the eyes of more than a few of the Galacian citizens in the station. They noticed for themselves the crowds of people hovering around the various radios in the gate desks behind the terminal. 

   "My clan has long wished to join your people, King Berthelot." Atrimir shared a look with Emily at the sound of her voice. Even through the radio, they could hear it, that subtle song.  "It would be our pleasure to defend the home we've always known." The woman's voice was higher than they would have heard from a human, more of a vibrato, a pitch between adult and adolescent, more just as mature as a full-grown woman. 

   They heard those two lines repeated as each radio picked up the signal in a slight delay. Atrimir reached up and tapped another man on the wrist, putting on a well-practiced enfeebled old man act. "Young man, I am new to these lands. Who was that?" 

   The man had on an oiled brown vest, a pocket watch chain dangling from his front pocket, waxed mustache in contrast to his slicked back hair. "Oh, your accent, you must be from the east. That was Governor Ilgor. She's been a surprising upstart since the Dwarves annexed our territory not too long ago." He laughed as Emily immediately pieced out his loyalties. "King Berthelot has been livid through the whole thing, serves him right for his overreaction toward those goblins." 

   "A member of the Merchant's guild?" Emily asked, laying on a certain charm that did wonders to keep people talking. She placed a hand on Atrimir's shoulder, seeing as they weren't immediately recognized as the Sages of Huron, yet.

   "Ah, yes. One of the Heads of the Chapter, actually, I oversee the treasury. I am Ernst Baptiste. To whom do I owe the pleasure?" He shook Atrimir's hand, addressing Emily. 

   "Emily Von Eule," The light of recognition only grew with her next words, "Sage of Huron, allow me to introduce Atrimir Schafer, also Sage of Huron." His shock turned to good humor as he redoubled the greeting to both their hands.  

   "I didn't realize the Sages were going to be making a visit to the city! Please, allow me to accompany you to wherever you may be headed? Surely you could use a guide!" His beaming smile made this chance encounter feel quite a bit better. 

   "We are not here under any official business. Though we would like to know more about this Governor, if you wouldn't mind." Emily asked, laying her charm on thicker than last time. Resting a hand on the man's just a little too long. 

   He grinned as he waved a hand, grabbing her bag and carrying it for her. "She has been the talk of the city. Majestet Gjorn and Halgier have been extremely protective of her. While she hasn't had any public voice until now, the merchants, as well as I, have been dying to be allowed into Vhedinstal. Though, to no one's surprise, the Governor hasn't allowed any inside except for a few diplomats from Galus."

   "Vhedinstal? A very Dwarven name for a territory in Galus." Atrimir commented.

   "Ah, the provincial name, given to the Goblin Village that has lain to the south of the city for as long as anyone can remember. We have all assumed the goblins never had a name for their town, and the Dwarves gave it one." Ernst answered as they passed through the station gates, Emily cushioning each impact to Atrimir's wheelchair as they descended the stairs with a small amount of magic. 

   "What can you tell us of the Governor? What happened?" Emily asked. While they made their way toward the market center, Ernst regaled them with the story of the Skirmish and the heavy-handed use of the Arelion to point its main guns at the village. The mass slaughter that ensued on both sides as Governor Ilgor made an example out of their Chancellor. 

   He filled them in on the rest of the details of the Dwarves rapid capture of the Goblin territory, and Ilgor's announcements to disallow the goblins way of life to interfere with the Human economies. How their people had given up their raiding culture, and now there were rumors that the Necromancer was an ally supposedly inside their walls. Now, finally, the goblins pledging to defend their borders, "It has been an interesting time to live in!" Ernst laughed as they crossed over one of the many canals snaking through Glaion. 

   "A blessing for scholars, a curse for man," Atrimir said darkly. "Though I can't help but be impressed by this Ilgor." He finished as he lit a pipe he had hidden in one of his pockets. 

   "What do you mean by that?" Ernst asked, adjusting Emily's bag across his back. 

   "She has Lucas cornered. Any attempt to retaliate against them would only make King Berthelot the villain. Listen to how you have spoken about her, Mr. Baptiste. A certain sense of reverence, you have told us that they were plagues on the people, now turned allies on such short notice. An interesting player on this grand chessboard we have." He answered with a cloud of sweet smelling smoke.

   "I," He hesitated, "Never thought about that, we at the Merchant's guild don't pay that much attention to the politics in that way. Only that we have been chomping at the bit to open markets inside that burgeoning city. You have a point. That does raise a very good point."

He coughed as he tried to hide that he had held a rather unenlightened point of view on the matter. "Incidentally, where are you two headed? We would love to open our doors and accommodate you somewhere." 

   Emily paused as a trolley crossed their path on the cobblestone streets. The steam engines pumping water up into the city's pipeworks hummed loudly at the base of the canal. "Could you tell us how to get to Vhedinstal? Governor Ilgor is a somewhat pressing matter for us."

   Ernst cocked his head, a little confused. "But, they aren't allowing anyone in, not even King Berthelot." Atrimir clasped the man's hand, his words making his eyes glow. 

   A few hours later, Atirmir had grabbed a newspaper from the stand, tossing a few copper coins toward the young boy running it. Who, in his eagerness, offered to shine both the Sages' boots. Having spotted the fat sack of coins in his bag. Emily laughed and wheeled the aging old Caster into the boy's stall. After a few choice words about why he needed his boots shined when he was confined to his chair, Emily tossed him a gold coin for the laugh. 

   The old frog shook his head as he pursued through the paper. "That merchant wasn't lying; this Governor is oddly quiet for the position she has. Both Majestet Gjorn and Halgier seem more than happy to do the talking for her. Though she certainly has some balls on her for taking the positions she has." 

   "Ernst has a name, you know." Emily chided as they left through the southern gates, stepping lithely into the dockside. 

   "I wonder how she will react to us making ourselves comfortable." He responded, ignoring her statement. Earning only an eyeroll in return. "She has actively turned away capital ventures, offers of aid in building her city, even humanitarian efforts to care for any injured her fledgling settlement harbors. Odd. This reporter seems to be under the impression that they need all the help they can get." 

   "Well, I doubt that. The Dwarves will, no doubt, be funneling a massive amount of resources into this little project of theirs. They never make rash decisions, and the decisions they make, they defend tooth and nail." Emily responded dryly as they passed through the streets which had so recently witnessed their first goblins. 

   "Every attempt to gain permission to the settlement has us all spoken to by either the Dwarven Krijic Clansmen Guard, or two of their Generals in Governor Ilgor's military. Commander Hob and General Knoll, both of whom, to our surprise, when we had the opportunity to speak with them, spoke Common to a very high degree." Atrimir folded the newspaper in his lap as the cobblestones turned muddy beneath his wheels. 

   "Talk of the town, an ancient history with the city by all accounts, secretive, and now allied by one of the most powerful militaries on the continent. This Ilgor only grows more and more interesting the more I hear about her." Emily grew tired of pushing her master through the much rougher terrain as they finally made their way into the Outer Fields.

   Without missing a beat, the wizened old Caster touched a few of the runic circles etched into the palms of the chair. Though this artifaced contraption of Cloquet and Sons sapped a small amount of energy from him to keep the wheels turning. "The way you speak about her, I'd think you had an infatuation with her." 

   If only simply to make her master turn his head in her direction, she leaned down, stretching her hamstrings, "And what would you think if I did?" It got the intended effect as she laughed at his aged face, reddened at the thought. 

Now on the receiving end of an eyeroll, she continued. "Besides, we are supposed to figure out how to negotiate some sort of settlement between these parties. To be honest, Master, I couldn't care less about the politics involved here this time. I am far more interested in what Azorez has to tell us, and I'm more than eager to speak with this, seemingly, powerful woman."

   They settled into a comfortable silence as they crossed the small wooden bridges that dotted dry creek beds. Occasionally waving at a farmer working away in his fields, preparing for the spring planting. The colossal steam engines rumbled effortlessly across the neatly plowed fields. The only thing giving the two Sages pause was the sight of the Ancient forest. 

   Even in the sparse winter foliage, even with the wide path cut through the forest where the road called home, the trees were monstrous monoliths of bark and wood. "Fitting for a place where the goblins can hide for centuries," Emily said. 

   "I'm not so sure. Clearly, Galus knew exactly where they were and even pointed the guns of a battleship at their home. I'm more curious as to why they were allowed to survive for so long before something like this happened.”

   Emily only shrugged, stepping into the shadow of those boughs. Followed by Atrimir, the forest seemed to drink in the sound they made, like it just dared them to give away their position. Years of marching with their own armies, their training resurfacing like a beast in the sea, long forgotten. Spotting perfect ambush positions nearly everywhere, every bend in the road, every massive trunk, every rock offered glorious points to control an encounter. 

   Atrimir spotted an old cart in the underbrush, even older blood trails on the cobblestones poking through the dirt and grit. No arrows, no bodies, no bullet holes. Just a completely hidden cart that could have only been spotted by someone who had spent years hunting for oddities like them. "Well, I think we have our reminder as to the history the goblins have with Galus." 

   "What kind of people would a place like this develop?" Emily asked, not expecting an answer at all. Picking her way through the thick pricker bushes, she spotted what the old man had missed. There were bodies here, just hidden under the cart. No defensive injuries on them at all, only deep slashes into the vertebrae of their necks. "An efficient kind."

Rising back to her feet, she started noticing all the game trails through the thick grass where the sun peeked through the canopy. The winter heather was taking advantage of the early spring sun before the forest awoke with fervor. Noting that the trails followed far more circuitous routes than an animal would. "Clever little things, throw off any hunter trying to track anything." She thought to herself. 

   Atrimir's voice called out from the roadside. "Well, with Lucas's failure at the summit, who would have thought that the Lion's fangs of Galus would fail to start any meaningful recruitment for the war effort?" The sarcasm practically dripped from his voice. 

   "Well, what did you expect? He is a man more fit to lead from a throne, or a horse on the frontline. He may be charming, but I've never believed that front he puts up, philanthropist," She threw her hands up in dismissal. 

   The two had picked their way along the road, letting their eyes drift down every game trail, every hidden footpath. Trying to gain some insight into the goblins before they had the opportunity to speak with them. Boots on the ground, seeing where the object of interest resided, was Emily's ideology for investigation. 

   Yet, the land seemed tailor made for a people to be able to hide in plain sight. Their eyes were playing tricks on them as they followed down a path marked by a new signpost. Dwarven metal, an arcane light sitting atop the pole, though stranger runes were seemingly carved into the metal in elegantly curving arrays. Not a language they recognized, though they noted the similarities in the runes carved into Atrimir's chair. They shared a look, an understanding, something to follow up on. 

   While the trees steadily grew thinner the closer they made their way toward the coast, the path grew wider with hard-packed earth. While it certainly wasn't the modern city road they were used to, treks out into the wilds for the enfeebled old man were no real barrier. Though a bit more bumpy than he would have liked, the allure of a new lead to follow always sparked some new life into his bones. 

   The trees suddenly opened up as the underbrush cleared, a vast field of cleared trees, their stumps in the process of being dug out by Dwarven crews. The two Sages were given their first look at the people of interest. Green-skinned, small frames, though well muscled. Purple or blue eyes, every last one of them wearing a long braid down their back. Ears far bigger than they would have expected, not unlike a rabbit's, though quite a bit pointier as they hung from the sides of their heads. 

   The Dwarves stopped working in a wake behind the Sages as they recognized the stars on their shoulders. The Goblins asked their compatriots what was going on, though both Sages had to resist that power in their voice. The exact same power that Atrimir had acquired for his own voice. "Remember how I told you all those years ago, how that woman in the stones reminded me of a Goblin?" The old Sage asked Emily.

   "I think I am beginning to see more connections, that is for sure." She answered him while they were stopped at the gate. 

   A burly brute of a goblin was standing as the sole guard in front of the gate, a scar running down his face. The old wound, having damaged his eye, his iris bleeding out in the same line. While he only stood up to Emily's shoulders, he was eye level with Atrimir. He said nothing, he made no move, no motion of greeting, just as stoic as a stone refusing to bend the knee for the raging sea. 

   "Hello, we were hoping to see Governor Ilgor." Emily tried, moving to shake his hand. 

   He took it, a shockingly strong grip, his voice sounding like falling gravel. A deep rumble that reminded her of a war drum on an open field, "I am Knoll, General of Governor Ilgor's army. You are not welcome here, humans. Please turn around and go home."

   "We only wish to speak with her." Atrimir tried to use his voice on the goblin, though they were both surprised to learn that such a high-ranking officer was standing guard outside the gates. 

   Knoll spoke again, his voice far more potent than before, completely overriding the Sage's attempt. "I have watched you for the last few hours. The moment you stepped into the forest, you were watched. Poking around that wagon, seeing the crime that was committed there. Staring down our paths and trails, eyeing our script written on the pole."

That came as a shock to know they were followed and observed themselves, without ever realizing it. These goblins, well, they certainly earned their somewhat sinister reputation. He continued. "Mother Ilgor has made it known to you humans that we are not accepting visitors at this time. Please respect our decisions here."

   The gate began to open, steam engines humming inside the thick stone gatehouse. The heavy door slowly lifted, and a Dwarf standing in the way. A Dwarf that both these Sages recognized. "General Khazet! It has been some time!"

   They didn't dare move from their spot in front of the General; he made it more than known he would stop them, even if he didn't say it. The goblin turned to look back at the figure behind him, an honor guard around him, mixed with both Goblins and Dwarves. "General Knoll, you'll have to forgive them. They are not aware that the Family does not recognize who the Sages are. They may enter."

   Knoll turned fully to the General, ignoring the two behind him. "Ilgor needs to authorize that; you do not have any power to make that decision. Majestet Halgier and Gjorn may authorize that, you do not." There was a threat there, and both the Sages noted where these loyalties lay. This General was more than willing to challenge another General for his Governor. 

   The Sages noted that the looks on all the Family's faces seemed to share this opinion. "Yes, and I am sure she is also unaware of who and what the Sages are. They have traditionally been given the freedom to roam as they please. Wherever they travel, they bring good, General Knoll." 

   There was a very long pause, the wind blowing in cold, humid air from the sea. Knoll's braid waved in the breeze as the Sages watched many of the Goblins already having their hands on their weapons. Pistols not leaving holsters, rifles having their bolts cocked, but nothing in the chamber, yet. Knoll shook his head, waving a hand at all of them. Emily breathed a sigh of relief as Knoll walked back into the city, letting his voice be heard to General Khazet, "We will speak of this later." 

   The old Dwarf, ever the corrigible man, bowed to his peer. "I suspect we will." He answered, walking up to the two Sages of Huron. They watched as Knoll sent off a runner somewhere, one of his soldiers. They would soon meet more resistance here, it seemed. "You will have to excuse them, they are, how to say, a little gun shy of humanity at the moment." 

   "Is Azorez actually somewhere in the Vhedinstal?" Emily asked, hoping to at least be inside of the gate by now.

   "Ah," His brows jumped at that, "I didn't realize you knew she was here; she only made herself recently known to be here to Galus's court. She will be down in the Chapel."

   "And where is that?" Atrimir asked in his usual dour mood.

   "It would be better if we escorted you down to the beach. The Family lives in the caves lining the cliffs, while we Dwarves are building a home for ourselves, as well as our Goblin bloodkin, for later." General Khazet answered. 

   "They are bloodkin? Which clan do they belong to now?" Emily asked.

   "To both the Rhojic, and the Krijic." He answered. "Governor Ilgor is not currently here; she is attending the War Council in Glaion. Though I suspect that you will very quickly meet Ghet, Ilgor's advisor. He is, how to say, a loyal man. Smarter than a whip, far more civilized than those pomps in the city. You'd best not underestimate the man." 

   General Khazet led them through the gatehouse, a marvel of Dwarven engineering, both the Sages assuming there had been next to nothing in these woods save for the caves he mentioned. Having been built so quickly, it was surprising how efficient the Dwarves could be when they felt like it. The sunlight poured over them as the fledgling city bared itself to the group. "Oh my," Emily spoke softly, as her eyes scanned the scene before them. 

   "Welcome to the goblin village," The general told them. The frames of innumerable buildings have been put together, massive piles of the old-growth wood being cut into beams and timber by Dwarven crews, more goblins working in key positions. Crews were working on putting roofs and floors into the construction, while more crews worked on paving the roads with cobblestones. "We were asked to train all of Mother Ilgor's people in trades that were far more relevant beyond these walls. They are quite the apprentices, what I would have done to have this level of eagerness back in Mhuzchet."

   "Is that a title?" Atrimir asked, letting his eyes wander as they walked down a footpath toward the cliff edge. 

   "Oh, Mother? Yes, it is a title they give to their High Priestess; however, under Ilgor's leadership, she is also their Father. You see, she is also the Chief of the goblins; Father was supposed to be their title." Khazet answered as he eyed Atrimir's wheelchair with a ponderous look. 

   "How did she become both?" Emily asked, whipping a notebook out. She quickly jotted down a series of runes carved into the beams of the buildings. 

   "By killing her Father." He said it as if the Sages were supposed to feel some kind of weight to those words. "I'm sorry," He said as he watched their vacant expressions. "The rise to Ilgor's power was also an issue of popular sovereignty, as well as a massive shift in culture; it is not a happy story." 

   "You called them Family, what is that?" Atrimir asked, now knowing why Khazet was pondering his chair. The thin staircase snaking its way down toward the beach stopped the small group in their tracks. "Emily, would you mind?"

   Emily squatted down in front of the old man, hooking her arms to carry him on her back. The old man's bones creaked with as much fervor as a rusty gate latch. General Khazet picked up his chair and began walking down to the beach. "They have a unique political system that Majestet Gjorn and Halgier have opted to honor. Everyone in the Clan is Famille, the Family; they all have equal rights and say in the operation of the Clan, free to voice concerns to their leaders and have their words be taken as seriously as a high-ranking politician. The Mother, and the Father." 

They had made it halfway down before the Sages noticed the Goblin sentinels refusing to salute the General as they eyed the humans. "The Mother has the penultimate power over the vast majority of issues while inside the Village. While the Father had the penultimate power outside the Village, the Father loses much of his power when returning home, while the Mother was vice versa. The Father oversaw their Raiders, while the Mother turned the Raiders into hunters and gatherers when she needed them." 

   "So Ilgor is now a new kind of banner to her people. Having both the power of Mother and Father. I wonder what led to that happening?" Emily asked, not bothered by Atrimir's weight. He was thin and light for his age, though she had no doubt that he was also attempting to make himself that way with a bit of magic.

   "It is a long story, one that I assume you will learn in time. The chapel is this way." The general said as his boots hit the sand. "Please do not disturb any of the caves as of right now; those are the goblins' homes. Seeing as by the looks on her soldiers' faces, word of you being here has already spread quickly. I anticipate you will be visited soon." 

   "You sound worried, General. Should we be worried about our safety here?" Atrimir asked from Emily's back. "Could you bring that chair back to the gatehouse? It won't be able to move very well in this sand."

   The hesitation before the General answered spoke far louder than his words. "No, Ilgor has a strict border policy is all. I have broken it without her consent, so I imagine my Kings will have words for me. As well as a discussion to have with the Governor herself later." 

   Atrimir made a motion to carry on, and the group made their way across the beach. While the Sages watched as massive facades were being reinforced over the cave mouths, the goblins were painting them with decorations. Flowers mostly, backdropped by one of the most convincing night skies they had seen. More and more of the goblins were exiting from the doors to watch the humans walk toward their chapel. 

   By the time they reached the massive cave mouth, the only one that seemed to be untouched by the recent construction work, the Sages could only stand and stare. A vast and complex structure of columns and vaulted ceilings, with small benches having been hewn from sweet-smelling wood. Candles burning in small alcoves, all accented by that runic script that they recognized far too well. In the center of this cave sat a dolmen, draped in vivid red cloth, the symbol of Bhal carved into its surface. An altar. 

   The entire chapel, though now to the Sages, seemed to be a lesser term for what should have been called a cathedral, shaped to amplify sound. A place of spirituality, magnificent, despite the god that was worshipped here. The General laughed, spotting their reactions, "We had much the same response; we were not expecting the goblins to have such a divine eye for architecture either. You'll have to whisper inside; conversations carry far more distance than you would expect." He said as he bid them farewell, telling them that the Grave Bell was somewhere inside. 

   Nearly every face was turned toward them as they walked inside the chapel. Struck by an odd sense of reverence, like the feeling of the first time waking up in the morning, they noticed how the sound of the beach died the further they walked inside. Though this was quickly replaced by the quiet voices of the Family praying from various places inside. As they neared the altar, they heard the voice of a small child, a little girl they knew. "Mama! Look! This one says Kari too!" 

   The next moment, Talia ran out from behind one of the columns, skidding to a stop when she spotted the two Sages. "Big sis!" She squealed as she ran up to Emily and wrapped her in a tight hug. 

   The little bug-eyed girl didn't have Azorez’s hat this time; her pale skin and thin hair seemed to glow in this place. Before Emily could even find a bench to set Atrimir down, Azorez cast a hushing spell over the child. "Child, not so loud, we are not the only ones here." Her voice seemed to echo from many places at once, before sounding like it came from behind the column that Talia had just run out from. "Over here," 

   Walking over to the source of the sound, Emily set the old man down on the bench next to the Necromancer. "Ah, finally some dignity." He groaned, taking his hat off to put on the little girl's head, who giggled at the attention. 

   Azorez had some of her tomes with her, clearly teaching the little witch more magic. Her notebook and writing materials were scattered about, the remains of a half eaten meal sitting at her feet. A circle of candles marked the range of the array they were working on. "So you received my letter, it would seem!" Azorez turned to them with a beaming smile that only made the dark circles under her eyes disappear.

   "Well, how could I ignore such an invitation from such a good friend?" Emily returned her smile with her own. Atrimir slid his pipe out from his sleeve, lighting it with a quick word. 

   "Well, there is much to speak about. Do I need to fill you in on the context of what happened here? Or have you already found that out?" The Necromancer asked, waving the smoke away from her face.

   "Galus suffered a defeat at the hands of the goblins, Ilgor transcended quite a few cultural barriers, and is now the only political power inside the Vhedinstal. The goblins were responsible for starting this war with the Caliphate, their former Chief, Yorm. Oh." Emily stopped mid-thought before continuing, "So that is what General Khazet meant when he told us that she killed her Father."

   Emily shifted her position uncomfortably, as a darker mood slipped onto her face. "Yes, I know the entire story now, but it is not a happy one. That poor girl, having to bear the weight of her people like so." 

   "You say girl," Atrimir interjected, "Is Ilgor young?"

   "She is in her mid-twenties, but not one of the Family has much experience with the outside world. Save for a few precious individuals, one of whom I hear that you have already met." She said in her usual flat, emotionless way. 

   "General Knoll, I presume?" Atrimir asked. 

   "That's the one, there is also Ghet. Cori and Hob are also names you should be aware of. Those four are her inner circle. Ilgor is really a wonderful person. She is sweet, kind, curious, smart as a whip; she is quite something when you get to meet her." Azorez said as she tapped the tome in front of her again for Talia to continue reading. 

   "You are now the third person to talk about her like that. It makes me wonder if we have the wrong idea about the goblins. We've found a few of their paths, an old cart they attacked years ago by the looks of it. The cold shoulder we are getting is a bit odd, at least from what we are used to." Atrimir complained, stretching his legs with his arms. 

   "You have to understand that they are, for all intents and purposes, well, they were, extremely isolationist, despite their proximity to humanity. They saw us as prey, and not much else. That mentality changed as time went on, starting to lay its roots in the veteran raiders of the Family. Which only spread throughout the rest of the clan naturally." Azorez explained while she drew another circle construct for Talia to figure out. 

"But," She began as the Sages had their attention on her, "I have learned their history, I have learned quite a bit of the culture by living in it since the skirmish. While it may have only been a short time, they have opened my eyes to a much greater worldview. They will tell you about their religion, that Bhal is a Great Father to them, that he wishes them to earn glory in his name, and to be the greatest example they can possibly be. That book, though." Azorez drifted off as her eyes watched something in the distance, deeper in the cave. 

   "Azorez?" The small group had gone silent while the Necromancer watched seemingly nothing in the dark corners of the chapel. "Azorez? Are you still here?" Emily poked the woman in the side. 

   "Can you see her?" Azorez raised a hand, pointing at nothing.

   "If it is a spirit, then no," Atrimir answered, stroking his beard while trying to see what she was pointing at. Only to the Sages, the only thing to see was an empty bench, outlined by those stones with the runic script carved into them. 

   "Ghost, will you show yourself to them?" Azorez asked the open air, putting on a friendly face for seemingly no one. Tilting her voice up to actually have some emotion in it. "Ah, and she is gone. She looks healthier than the last time I saw her."

   "Is this the spirit you mentioned in your letter?" Emily asked, pulling it out of a leatherbound notebook, pulling a pen and ink well out as she began writing a few things down. 

   "Yes, she looks very much like the goblins, only a few things are different about her. They are not small differences either. I suspect that she is actually a god, maybe the actual creator of the goblins." She said it so absently, despite the shocked look on the Sages’ faces. "She has told me she is not a ghost, not a spirit, she is alive, she is something divine."