Walin Barklo Vaslov's breathing grew increasingly sonorous, nearly stirring the rings woven into his lengthy beard. "You think it's just an ordinary stone?" He attempted to continue but surrendered to drowsiness with an expansive yawn. "Let me enlighten you—that esteemed gentleman is no common rock."

  Fendi Firshield chimed in. "Isn't it though?" he raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Or perhaps it's an exquisite specimen of Dragonglass?" He couldn't resist the jibe. "That's precisely the nonsense I fed Cynthia's patrol when questioned."

  "Very well." Walin's indignation subsided slightly, though he maintained his dignified bearing. "Let me explain. That gentleman is not Dragonglass. Dragonglass is crystallized dragon fire—this much we all agree upon, yes?" He surveyed the assembled dwarves. "Certain dragons produce flames that leave crystalline remnants—that's Dragonglass. Such ancient artifacts, if they survive at all, would likely grace the display cases in Illuviλofer's museum. However, dragon fire yields another byproduct—stones scorched by draconic flames that, before liquefying into glass, transform into an intermediate state."

  Toyef Bilinski grasped the concept. "Our gentleman bears this transformation?"

  Lord Walin nodded with unmistakable pride. "I, Walin Barklo Vaslov, would never misidentify such material. Having encountered this stone previously, I recognized our extraordinary fortune the moment I beheld that gentleman. Attempting to breach the Wall of Cynthia with conventional projectiles would be delusional folly. But with this—this rock, hardened and imbued with exceptional resilience after its dragon fire baptism—we might just knock a proper hole in Cynthia's old matron's teeth. Our endeavor isn't as futile as it might appear, companions."

  Fendi did recall the stone's distinctive coloration and unusual patterning. "If Dragonglass is so scarce, how did we happen upon this byproduct so easily?" Toyef stroked his beard thoughtfully. "With luck this abundant, I'd prefer to save it for Duke Duke choking on his morning porridge."

  "Have you forgotten whose territory this once was?" Walin yawned again.

  "Oh!" Fendi Firshield exclaimed with sudden comprehension. "You speak of Red Dragon Anlenκordir!"

  "Precisely." Walin nodded, resembling a scholar drifting toward slumber during a lecture. "That gentleman likely originated in these very woodlands. His possession of what I'll term Secondary Dragonglass—forgive my neologism—is entirely plausible. I stand by my identification. After all, we have the red dragon's relics here for comparison. If concerns must be harbored, direct them toward our fresh Dragon Sinew." Walin chuckled. "I suspect that with proper boiling, these fresh sinews might prove delightfully chewy!"

  The four lapsed into relative silence thereafter, with Thorin Durin—the most reserved among them—proving most efficient. Shortly thereafter, Toyef transported the assembled arm to where Blue and Green were establishing the foundation.

  What ensued was essentially a masterclass performance by Toyef's crew. Though now fully alert, Walin Barklo Vaslov found no opportunity to contribute. Instead, he circulated, attempting to initiate conversations. No one paid him any attention. Every eye focused on Toyef's team as they integrated the massive arm into the base, employed a compact crane to navigate the sixty-foot trebuchet's heights while assembling various components, and meticulously inspected for structural flaws. The siege engine's complexity inspired awe among observers, yet presented no apparent challenge to the Bilinski lineage. They secured iron nails at the base's corners, fastened ropes and cordage, positioned the arm at optimal elevation, and installed the counterweight with practiced precision. As preparations concluded, dawn's first light began illuminating the eastern horizon.

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  Toyef Bilinski stood appraising his creation with hands planted firmly on his hips, exhaling a breath of satisfaction. "Relaxing already?" Jim Harad nudged him with a pointed elbow. "Best verify everything thoroughly, lest it fail at the critical moment. I'm being entirely earnest."

  The red-haired dwarf glanced at Jim before directing Blue and Green to conduct a comprehensive final inspection. "I'm not relaxing. In fact, the most crucial phase begins now. First, we must ensure the arm can support the weight once loaded. Our friend is exceptionally heavy."

  Holar Peter Wilton and Fendi Firshield arrived guiding a cart bearing the pale yellow boulder with its intricate veining. "He doesn't appear particularly conversational."

  "Indeed, he maintains his silence, sir," Fendi remarked, dismounting from the cart. "They're not known for talking much... He's mentioned it's to conserve energy and contain his wrath."

  "More likely recovering from his drinking bout." Jim laughed heartily. "Thirty barrels of black ale, completely drained."

  The boulder ascended into its waiting net with such fluid grace and alacrity that even the dwarf twins failed to observe the movement. "How remarkably convenient." Toyef appeared mildly amused. "Impressive that you didn't fracture the arm in the process. It's all up to you now, sir."

  The boulder shifted perceptibly.

  "Thorin!" Toyef Bilinski commanded the young dwarf perched atop the trebuchet's arm. "Adjust the targeting!"

  Thorin employed his monocular lens to examine the wall, seeking the optimal impact point. "Target a lower position! Preferably where the wall meets the ground!" he called down. "Creating chaos is beneficial, but if we can breach the wall sufficiently for Godma's forces to penetrate, all the better!" Toyef's voice descended to a near-whisper. "Then Godma will have no pretext to trouble us further."

  Thorin Durin studied the wall's foundation with meticulous attention. "Left, twelve turns." Blue rotated the horizontal wheel accordingly. "Up, seven turns." Green manipulated the vertical wheel with matching precision. Simultaneously, the winch began rotating, creating a distinctive, piercing sound as Dragon Sinew rubbed against wooden components. "Expedite your adjustments! This contraption stands over sixty feet tall—Cynthia's sentries aren't blind!"

  "Elevate slightly," Thorin signaled to Green. "Don't issue such ambiguous instructions!" Toyef displaced Green, personally manning the wheel. "Always specify the exact rotation required!"

  "Half turn!"

  "Direction?"

  "Direct vertical!"

  "Splendid lad! I personally attend to this, and you requisition merely half a turn!" The red-haired dwarf rotated the wheel while wiping perspiration from his brow. "Assessment now?!"

  "Positioning appears optimal, Mr. Bilinski!" Thorin responded emphatically.

  "Excellent. I'll verify." After the young dwarf descended, Toyef boarded the crane. "Should I deem your targeting satisfactory, I'll escort you to the casino upon our return."

  "Then scrutinize carefully, Thorin," Jim Harad advised. "Each time he enters a gambling establishment, he arrives adorned with gold and departs without a stitch of clothing."

  Toyef Bilinski planted one foot upon the arm, momentarily losing balance as the panorama captivated him. Sparse clouds dotted the firmament, with brilliant stars still visible against the lightening sky. Directly before him lay the source of all illumination, gradually diffusing its warmth outward. Beneath the ascending sun, even Cynthia's imposing fortifications appeared somehow diminished. He seated himself but neglected the monocular, content to absorb the vista in contemplative silence. "Does he suffer from acrophobia?" Walin Barklo Vaslov finally received a response that morning: "Mr. Bilinski harbors no fear of heights," Thorin Durin explained. "He has simply been deprived of an elevated perspective for considerable time."