"Don't kick her. She'll tolerate you riding her if you don't heel her flanks."
Brahgen's eyebrows raised as the warrior patted Jenny on the backside and clicked his tongue for Horse to follow him through the gates along with the caravan.
It was interesting and even impressive that the dwarves had managed to keep a gate in and out of the city secret. The presence of a hidden portal that could lead into Verenvan could break a siege if there ever was one.
He doubted they would be involved in a war, but if this were ever discovered, the chances were good that the officials in Verenvan would start a war with the dwarves under their city to gain control of the gate, if nothing else.
For the moment, however, Skharr doubted they would encounter much trouble. The group was already on their way and used the nearby woods to cover their tracks as they worked steadily toward the roads.
"I've always loathed the western roads," he muttered. "The empire always hated this little section they took control of and never bothered to put any real thought into maintaining it."
"Have you traveled these parts a great deal?" Brahgen asked.
"While they were still fighting for it, yes. I never understood why."
The roads certainly hadn't improved and he thanked his lucky stars that they didn't need to pull a wagon like the caravan did. Moving away from most of the civilization in the region had its disadvantages as they were bounded on all sides by the Green Wilderness, with hundreds of miles of little other than trees as far as the eye could see.
Not that the eye could see much, as the road led them directly into the forest, where massive roots had begun to dig through the cobbles and made them difficult to traverse. Traveling to Verenvan from his farmstead had brought him along the same path, and it never failed to annoy him to realize how difficult it was to move through the region.
That would change the moment a few armies needed to pass through, however. In that case, the roads would be repaired all too quickly.
As the sun began to set on their third day on the road, the barbarian pointed out a small group of smoke pillars in the distance.
"Grenland ought to have a few straw beds for us to sleep in," he told his companion. Not that he expected much of a response from the dwarf, whose silence was marginally more tolerable than his complaints as they began the winding journey into the lake region. The area offered little to draw much attention from the empire that putatively ruled it, but there was enough in the way of fishing and farming to attract a few settlers. These founded a small group of villages that were too far from the empire for it to care that it ruled over them.
They approached the settlement at a steady pace. The dwarf had yet to respond to Skharr’s comment and he shifted continually on his saddle and looked away, although he showed a keen interest in not sleeping with roots digging into his back for at least one night.
The village was no hub of commerce but a level of activity in the streets showed that the locals enjoyed something of an economic boom that allowed them to sell to and buy from the nearby towns. The advantage of this was that so many strangers wandered the streets that two more didn't draw so much as a second glance despite their disparate sizes.
As no word had yet issued from the sullen dwarf, the warrior found a tavern that had rooms available. Once Horse and Jenny were situated in the stables, they sat in the common room and were served a pint each of locally brewed ale with promises from the innkeeper that food would soon be forthcoming.
The establishment was not quite filled to capacity yet, but as the sun began to set, more folk wandered in. He had a feeling it would be full before day gave way fully to night.
Brahgen sipped his ale, sighed deeply, and shook his head.
"Do you truly speak to horses?"
Skharr looked curiously at him. It was the longest string of words the dwarf had spoken to him since their journey started. He should have known that all it would take was a little ale to get the youth's words flowing.
"Aye." The barbarian nodded slowly. "They're sharper than folk give them credit for. Donkeys are even cleverer, so you'll have your hands full with Jenny if you don't pay attention."
"Most donkeys aren't so difficult."
"They've been browbeaten into submission to the point where they have been taught that showing any sign of their personality results in punishment. It breaks my heart every time I see it."
His companion narrowed his eyes, leaned back in his seat, and took another sip of his drink. "Throk encourages the use of whips on the beasts. And I don't only mean the donkeys. He might be a mighty blacksmith, but he's a godsbedammed shit-hearted uncle, I tell you. Then again, not many of the other dwarves mind him so much."
"You don't like being put to work, do you?"
"I don't mind working for my keep, but it’s become more and more obvious that I don’t have the blood of a blacksmith in me—and not the muscles of a fighter either. It narrows what a dwarf can do since my kin aren't given to farming."
"There are many dwarves who farm. How do you think the mighty cities under the mountains feed themselves?"
"I didn't mean dwarves, I meant the AnvilForged. Mining, fighting, and smithing are all that is considered an honorable endeavor for the family. Let the lesser families deal with such drudgery as farming."
"Which explains why you treat your donkeys so poorly."
Brahgen nodded.
"It doesn't take much muscle to be a fighter," Skharr told him after he’d sipped his drink.
"So says a man who is a mountain of it."
"I do not jest. I know my fair share of slim humans who can wield a sword better than I might ever dream of. Dwarves like their long spears and shield walls, granted, but with a little training, you would find some form of fighting ability."
"Perhaps you’re right, but it's not only that. I cannot say I like much about dwarves as a whole. I don't like living underground and I hate the…closeness of the clans. I don't even like good dwarven women. Not even my mother."
"And…that is why you worship Ahverna?"
"Yes. She and I have quite a bond, given that she never answered me. It’s the best kind of worship. Or at least…I think she didn't."
"All folk can hope for is to avoid the attention of the gods. At best, you find yourself burdened with gifts that allow you to serve them better. At worst, they grow angry with your lack of service and become a pain in your ass for the rest of your life."
Brahgen laughed. "I can't disagree with that."
Skharr took a long, draught from the pint mug and emptied it in a long, slow gulp before he pushed up from his seat and belched loudly.
"I need to bleed the lizard."
The dwarf raised an eyebrow.
"Take a piss. I'll be back."
The inn had no designated cesspits, but a handful of trenches had water running through them and likely led to the communal pits, far away from where folk lived and downwind as well. He undid his breeches and as he relieved himself, he sighed and shook his head.
Most other quests he'd been sent on tended to lead to him to battle a primal evil of some kind by this point, which made him believe that perhaps this would merely be another job, a simple favor he did for a friend.