The dwarf warriors unleashed a thunderous roar in perfect unison, their polearms striking the ground with rhythmic precision. "Come here, lass," Gamlin beckoned to the girl. "Tell me about those tall structures—what manner of buildings are they?" He gestured toward the imposing stone edifices rising above the city skyline.

  "Those are apartments, sir," the girl replied with slight embarrassment. "Dwellings for those of considerable means."

  "Hmph. Apartments?" He glanced toward Blake seeking confirmation. "Like those wretched Ptolemaick tenements of old, are they not? Let me tell you, lass, even if my pockets were bursting with gold, I'd not live in such a place. Twenty people crammed into one building? A man can't even take a piss without splashing his neighbors." When his crude humor failed to elicit laughter, he offered two uncomfortable chuckles. "GONDOLIN! FRONT AND CENTER!"

  A remarkably tall dwarf pivoted from formation and marched forward with impeccable military bearing. Blake Barinder's gaze settled casually upon him—then his jaw nearly struck the ground. The dwarf's face was entirely devoid of facial hair.

  "He transgressed against our code," Gamlin explained, stepping closer to Blake and lowering his voice. "He took trinkets from a dead woman. The company rule is clear: you loot from the men, you leave the women be. He broke the rule."

  "And for this offense you... completely denuded his beard?" Blake stole another incredulous glance. "Every last hair? I was led to believe beards held sacred significance for dwarfkind."

  "Indeed they do," Gamlin affirmed with a solemn nod. "I myself violated the same statute. The prescribed punishment for pilfering from a woman's remains typically involves partial shearing—approximately this much." He delicately lifted one intricately braided whisker between his fingers. "I ordered complete removal—specifically because he is my nephew."

  Blake stared transfixed at Gondolin's smooth jawline. "How long before he regrows a beard comparable to yours?"

  "Five years at minimum. Ten would not be considered extraordinary."

  "That seems... exceptionally severe."

  "That is the price of transgression."

  Gondolin halted before them and inclined his head respectfully toward Blake. The diplomat found himself startled by the dwarf's striking handsomeness—a proudly aquiline nose, deeply-set penetrating eyes, and lips suggesting aristocratic hauteur—features that momentarily deceived him into mistaking the dwarf for an elf. (Or... are all dwarves this handsome, their features simply hidden away under all that hair?) He touched his own smooth, pale cheek. And in that moment, whatever confidence he had, whatever sense of human superiority he'd felt among the dwarves, vanished completely.

  "Enlighten me regarding your strategic assessment, Gamlin." Even Gondolin's voice resonated with commanding richness.

  "I have the beginnings of a plan," Gamlin said, gesturing to the tall buildings. "There should be more of these in the city center. I want you to take a company, spread them out among the tallest buildings you can find. Prepare whatever you can to drop on their heads—boiling water, hot oil, chamber pots, anything."

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  "I comprehend—essentially a vertical defensive perimeter."

  "Precisely. Select buildings of maximum height whenever possible. Prioritize structures situated behind Triumphant Fort. I shall personally lead forces to rendezvous with the Duke of Pafaheim and engage the Godmans in close-quarters combat near the fortress."

  "Instructions received with clarity."

  "What numerical strength do you require?"

  "The determination remains yours, Gamlin. What force will you retain under your direct command?"

  "Three hundred warriors shall remain at your disposal. Will that suffice?"

  "Entirely adequate. Should it prove insufficient, we shall persevere regardless—each dwarf performing the equivalent labor of two men."

  "Well said, lad." Gamlin delivered a powerful, affectionate blow to his nephew's chest. Blake felt his masculine confidence diminish further; he had surrendered any sense of human superiority among these formidable warriors.

  "Tell me, lass," the captain inquired, his tone acquiring a slightly mischievous quality, "has the Duke of Pafaheim established evacuation protocols?"

  "The Duke's man came at sunrise," the girl said, chewing on a fingernail. "He told us to stay inside. He promised that if things got worse, they would send men to lead us out of the city."

  "I would wager substantial gold that they'll find no opportunity to honor such assurances." The dwarf crossed his arms decisively, mind working rapidly. "LORRAINE! YOU WILL ALSO PRESENT YOURSELF!"

  A notably shorter dwarf responded to the summons—Blake registered surprise at her auburn hair and the sparse, delicate whiskers adorning her cheeks. "Has this one transgressed as well?" he inquired sotto voce.

  "She most certainly has not," Gamlin replied, displaying an amused grin. "First time seeing a dwarf-woman, is it?"

  "Indeed it does." Lorraine approached and offered Blake a brisk, businesslike nod, which he hastened to reciprocate.

  "Our women also cultivate facial hair—though less abundantly than males of our kind. EXCELLENT!" He clapped his hands with decisive finality. "Lorraine—you shall devise measures to safeguard these civilian non-combatants. Tell me, lass," he addressed the girl again, "exists there a structure of significant capacity nearby—capable of accommodating you and your neighboring households?"

  "In this vicinity..." She resumed her anxious nail-biting. "Pray do not suggest Triumphant Fort," Gamlin interjected preemptively.

  "The temple," the boy suggested in his soft, measured voice. "The Goria Temple."

  "The temple might indeed prove suitable," the girl concurred.

  "EXCELLENT!" Gamlin declared with evident satisfaction. "Is it situated at considerable distance?"

  "Well—how might I explain—if one proceeds initially from this location toward—" She had barely raised her hand to indicate direction when the dwarf interrupted, "So—conveniently proximate." She lowered her arm in embarrassment.

  "LORRAINE! YOUR JOB IS TO GATHER EVERY CIVILIAN YOU CAN FIND AROUND HERE AND GET THEM TO THE GORIA TEMPLE! I'M GIVING YOU FIFTY WARRIORS FOR IT. IS THAT ENOUGH?!"

  "THIRTY WILL BE PLENTY, GAMLIN!"

  Blake Barinder observed that their exchange perfectly mirrored human altercations in both volume and intensity.

  "EXCELLENT! THAT'S MY NIECE!" At that, Blake became suddenly and completely convinced that every single member of the Gambril Oathsworn was one of Gamlin's relatives. "You shall maintain protective custody within the temple and await further instruction. Should you receive neither my direct orders nor communication from Gondolin—exercise independent tactical judgment. Understand this clearly: these civilians possess no combat capability—their survival rests entirely in your hands. IS THIS COMPREHENSIBLE, LORRAINE?"

  "ABSOLUTELY UNDERSTOOD!" Blake discreetly massaged his ear, which had begun emitting a distinct ringing sensation.