unofficial leader and voice of Mirabar's two thousand.
"Have you spoken with Master Hammerstriker?"
"What would ye have me say?" Agrathan asked.
While he was the accepted voice for the dwarves among the human leaders, that wasn't always the case among the Mirabarran dwarves themselves.
"I would have you remind Master Hammerstriker where his loyalties lie," the marchion replied. "Or where they should lie."
Agrathan worked hard to keep his expression placid, to hide the sudden storm welling inside of him. The loyalty of Torgar Delzoun Hammerstriker could not be questioned. The crusty old warrior had served the marchion, and the marchion before him, and before him, and before him, and before him, and before him, for longer than any human in the city could remember, longer than the long dead parents of the dead parents of any human in the city could have remembered. Torgar had been among the leading soldiers charging along the tunnels of the upper Underdark against monsters more foul than anything any of the marchion's Hammers-those elite advisors selected supposedly because of their glorious veteran warrior status-had ever known. When the orc hordes attacked Mirabar, a hundred and seventeen years past, Torgar and a very few other dwarves had held the eastern wall strong against the assault, fending off the hordes while the bulk of Mirabar's warriors had been engaged on the western wall, against what had proven to be no more than a feint by the enemy. In scars, wounds, and cunning victories, Torgar Delzoun Hammerstriker had earned his position as a leader among the Axe.
But even to Agrathan the marchion's words rang with a bit of truth. It wasn't a question of loyalty, as far as Agrathan was concerned, but rather one of judgment. Torgar and his fellows had not understood the implications of trading with their rivals from Mithral Hall or from subsequently socializing with them.
With that, Agrathan and Shoudra left the agitated marchion, walking side by side along the outer corridors of the palace and out into the pale sunlight of the late afternoon. A chill breeze was blowing, a reminder to the pair that in Mirabar, winter was never far away.
"You will approach Torgar with a bit more gentleness than Marchion Elastul showed?" Shoudra asked the dwarf, her smile one of genuine amusement.
As sceptrana, Shoudra was involved in signing trade agreements. With the rise of Mithral Hall, she too had suffered, or at least her work had. Shoudra Stargleam had taken it more in stride than many others in the city, though, including many of the dwarves. To her, the way to beat Mithral Hall was to increase production and find better ore for better product. To her, the rise of a trading rival should be the catalyst to make Mirabar stronger.
"I'll tell Torgar and his boys what I can, but ye know that one, and know that not many can be telling Torgar anything."
"He is loyal to Mirabar," Shoudra stated, and though Agrathan nodded, the expression on his face showed that he wasn't so certain of that anymore.
Shoudra Stargleam caught that look and stopped, and put her hand on Agrathan's shoulder to stop him as well.
"Is he loyal to city or to race?" she asked. "Does he consider the marchion his true leader or King Bruenor of Mithral Hall?"
'Torgar's fought well for every marchion since before yer parents were born, girl," Agrathan reminded her.
Shoudra nodded, but like Torgar a moment earlier, she didn't seem overly convinced.
"They should not have gone to trade and drink with the visiting dwarves," Shoudra remarked.
She bustled her cloak in front of her and started on her way.
"Mighty temptations there. Good trade, good drink, and better stories. Are ye thinking that my folk aren't wanting to hear the Battle of Keeper's Dale? Are ye thinking that your own world would be a better place if the damn drow invaders had won at Mithral Hall?"
"Well, perhaps if" the dark elves had inflicted a bit more damage before they had been chased off.. .." Shoudra replied.
Agrathan snapped a scowl over her, but it was quickly defeated, for the woman was grinning mischievously even as she spoke the words.
"Bah!" Agrathan snorted.
"So by your reasoning, Mirabar owes a debt to Mithral Hall for their victory against the dark elves?" Shoudra asked.
Agrathan paused for a moment and thought long and hard on that one. In the end, he shrugged, not willing to make a commitment.
Shoudra grinned again and nodded, for it was obvious that the dwarf's heart was giving one answer and his pragmatic head,