"I'm still worried," the dwarven prince -- now king? -- says. "Reports are that the ghouls who took Mrid numbered in the thousands, and had many more siege engines. I'd like to know where they went if they didn't come here." He pulls out a map, and points to a series of tunnels. "They may have gone up this way. There are orcs up here, and giants as well. We've never been able to invade them. Hopefully, these ghouls won't, either."

Nolin nods. "It's quite possible that they considered you just a minor roadblock, a distraction. They probably didn't think you could withstand the force they sent."

The prince nods. "And we almost didn't, either. We owe you a great debt. If you are going to take back Mrid, we'll come with you." The group exchanges glances.

"I don't think that's necessary, your Majesty," says Mara. Velendo agrees.

"Best to stay fortified here. We can cast a sending to try and gather more reinforcements for you. The best thing you can do is provide us with information and maps."

"Indeed." The dwarf nods, and then a crafty look passes over his tired and smudged face. "I have just the person to send with you. Our most knowledgeable Loremaster." He looks over at an unhappy and pathetic-looking dwarf wearing jester's motley, jingling by himself over in the corner.

"Not him?"

"Glibstone!" the prince roars.

The jester jingles over and half-heartedly bows, bells tinkling. "Prithee, m'lord, wish ye a riddle? What is the difference between a dwarf in the forest and one who has been hit by an acid arrow?" The Defenders all look at Nolin, who slowly shakes his head. Glibstone gives a grimace that might, possibly, be mistaken for a smile in very dim light. "One meets the elfs, and the other one eats the Melf's!" He looks at the prince hopefully. The prince catches and holds the Loremaster's eye.

"Glibstone, these heroes are traveling back to Mrid. You're going with them."

"Mrid, your Majesty?" Glibstone gulps, bells a-jingle, and looks momentarily hopeful. "The ghouls are gone, then?" The prince shakes his head, and the jester's face falls.

"No. But they will need to know and travel the secret ways, and no one knows the ancient runes and old lore better than yourself."

"I could write it down, my lo-"

"Don't be foolish, Glibstone." The prince turns back to the Defenders as Glibstone jingles slightly. "There is a vault and an armory inside the palace, a vault that contains our greatest treasures." Prince Stern leans forward, face clouded with worry and sorrow. "My father would have fallen before he revealed the secret to the ghouls, and I doubt that the ghouls will have pierced the secrets of the vault themselves. If they haven't, I give you leave to borrow what weapons and armor you need, for as long as you oppose these thrice damned ghouls!" He's standing now, shouting, and with an effort he regains control of himself. He gestures with his clenched fist. "Glibstone can get you into the vault, and will return with whatever treasures you don't need. With those, we'll equip our own troops, and hopefully be ready for the next assault."

"Are you sure, my lord?" asks Mara. "We don't need a reward."

"Indeed. That's why I trust you to do this." The prince stands, nods to the jester, and strides across the hall to speak with one of his soldiers.

The table falls silent.

The Loremaster clears his throat awkwardly and harrumphs. "So . . . " he says. "Hey nonny nonny? Er. You know how to tell how old an elf is?"

Nolin lean back and crosses his arms. "Cut him in half and count the rings?"

"No, m'lord, that would be for a half-elf." He looks around as if looking for an escape, and Velendo laughs as he stands up.

"Glad to have you with us, Glibstone. We'll value your knowledge."

<> - <> - <> - <> - <>

It's a tired group of heroes who fall asleep in the safety of their Calphas' Comfortable Castle that night. When the Defenders retire, the outer cavern is being thoroughly searched for valuables and items, and any ghoulish bodies are being stacked for incineration as any lone ghouls are hunted down and destroyed. The well-fed dwarves of Mridsgate have proper security precautions in place, and the adventurers feel secure enough to bid them a good evening as they close the door to the castle and queue up to bathe before bed. The hot water feels delightful.

"What are we going to do about Kellharin?" asks Velendo as they sit in the library afterwards, warm robes wrapped around them and a blazing fire warming their skin.

"Tomorrow," the group agrees, "we'll decide tomorrow."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------