It took perhaps a week to get from Lordaeron to Khaz Modan. They arrived at Southshore, near which they camped. There was no place for them in the fishing village itself, as refugees from Stormwind resided there. The huge ships looked almost terrifying compared to the tiny Southshore as the moonbeams fell on them. They anchored far from the shores, as they could not get any closer to the shoals.
While Thomas remained with the messengers who built a fire and settled down on the ground, Aneth went to check on Southshore, as the silent wailing of the refugees did not allow her to take an indifferent attitude to the whole situation.
She tried to help those who couldn't sleep, but she didn't want to ask them what happened and open old wounds. After some time she found two survivors from Northshire Abbey. She chatted with them and heard what had happened in Stormwind. It was hard to believe that the rumors about orcs, huge green beings, were true. She asked them what she could help with and her only answer was to help everyone she could. They didn't have that energy after a few days and Aneth understood them completely. However, she informed them that within a few days the priests from the monastery at Stratholme would appear in Southshore to assist them. They apparently held back by packing clothes and food for the refugees. However, even this information gave energy and hope to the tired priests.
She spent the whole night healing and comforting the homeless refugees and only returned to the camp near the village in the early morning. Thomas had been up all night waiting for her. The two messengers were asleep while Thomas at least kept the fire going. He couldn't sleep himself, so he didn't even think of blaming the priestess for leaving and not coming back for a long time.
As the messengers began to wake up, Thomas and Aneth ate breakfast to strengthen themselves for the next journey and not be forced to stop many times.
At the end of the next day, they stopped in the middle of the Arathi Highlands. Perhaps the worst route for them was to cross the Thandol Span, the giant dwarven bridge that separated the Arathi Highlands from the Wetlands. They spent perhaps two days traveling through the swamps. Not only did they make great efforts to avoid crocodiles and other dangerous creatures, but the stifling air tired not only them but also the horses.
The next day was spent tunneling under the mountains and mountain passes that led to Dun Morogh. And they didn't stop the rest of the way, because the snowdrifts and terrible frost didn't allow them to set up camp. Instead, Aneth prayed to the Light to ward off the cold that plagued them and the animals they rode on.
It wasn't until the middle of the night that they reached a footpath that wound around a precipice to a mountain and a huge metal gate with an anvil symbol on it.
"That's strange," remarked the elder of the messengers, "the gates of Ironforge are rarely closed."
"Perhaps the orcs have already managed to attack here," Thomas deduced. "Khaz Modan is close to Stormwind after all."
"But no one would dare the dwarves!" protested the messenger as he stared at the giant gate that was fearing.
"But the orcs do," answered Aneth, who had heard all too well in Southshore the accounts of the survivors of Stormwind's fall.
It wasn't long before they heard footsteps. Aneth immediately ignited the Light above her palm and pointed in that direction to prepare herself for the enemy. The horses trotted impatiently.
"Hey, whoever you are, you're going to fire me!" said a voice. Aneth seemed to dim the light and everyone saw a massive dwarf figure coming in the darkness. It was one of the guards. "What are you doing outside at this hour of the night and these days?"
“On what days?” asked the older messenger.
“I guess you're from Lordaeron, huh? That's like you," the dwarf waved a massive hand, "not knowing in the southern lands. But so what. Come see me while you're here. I suppose you have some news, eh?'
"Yes, we bear an urgent message to King Magni," said the messenger as he dismounted like the others.
"Well, if I were you, I wouldn't try too hard. She's pretty tense. But what about you now…” Without explaining why, he led them further through the darkness to a hidden entrance in the rock. Wherever it was, no one noticed exactly where it was. However, the important thing was that the horses also passed through the entrance.
They were immediately greeted with warm air, a welcome change from the icy climate of Dun Morogh, and everyone relaxed.
They were in Ironforge.
“Yeah dude!” Muradin Bronzebeard exclaimed as he read the entire message in Anduin Lothar's handwriting. “Stormwind has fallen! But I really wouldn't have thought of that!”
The dwarf read the message as the others stood around him waiting for his reaction. He was dressed in armor, except for his helmet, which he did not wear inside the city. Judging by his scruffy beard and hair, he had had a busy day.
“You guys are really fast, aren't you?” Muradin lowered his hand with the message and looked at the four of them. “Tell Mister Lothar that I really thank him for the 'quick' message, but that's about all I can say. We've been fighting head-to-head with the green wolves here for almost a day, and in the meantime they've managed to burn down two smaller vosads in the south of Dun Morogh. Kharanos is the worst and who knows how many other villages are in the same situation. He really didn't expect the orcs to arrive at Ironforge faster than Lordaeron.” The dwarf took a deep breath as if he needed to cool his hot head. "I apologize for my behavior. Good guys came here today at fifteen.”
"You're supposed to be why," Aneth remarked diplomatically. "We arrived as soon as possible."
"Well, you didn't even have to drive. You can turn around and fly back home. We have secret passages to the airport. Just say, I'll agree to lead."
"I'm staying," Thomas said immediately. The dwarf immediately gave him his penetrating gaze.
"Where are you two?"
"From the monastery at Stratholme," Aneth replied.
"So Faol herself is sending you?"
Aneth and Thomas nodded.
"Well, I wouldn't want you to get hurt any more. The news at Northshire Abbey must have picked him up already.'
"Is there anything we can do to help?" she asked turning the page.
"Well, I guess we'll clear it up first." He looked at the two messengers. “Are you going to stay or rather deliver the message that you delivered the message? As I say, you can fly back tomorrow morning. The pilot will throw you back to Lordaeron.'
"Come back," Aneth encouraged them. "We'll stay here and help as much as we can." She looked at Thomas who didn't object.
The dwarf looked at them for a moment and then nodded, “Cake. So I'll arrange to lead in the morning, but first I'll write you a message so Elder Terenas knows what's going on here.” After the two messengers thanked him, he turned to Aneth and Thomas. "If you want to help, I'll direct you to the infirmary. A few days and it's already bursting at the seams. It scares me quite a bit.” He pointed in the direction where the huge street turned to the right and said, “Right behind you, you'll recognize the infirmary. And you two," he waved at the two messengers, "come to me so we can get it done quickly."
Aneth and Thomas walked in the direction the dwarf had directed them. The city was huge and imposing. Neither of them had ever gotten this close to the dwarves and that's why they were excited to spend a little more time here and at least help out in the infirmary. Thomas didn't know how he could help more than Aneth, but he decided to do whatever he was told.
Aneth and Thomas were in the infirmary all night. Not that they weren't tired after the long journey, but the idea of leaving the other healers alone among so many wounded and half-dead disgusted them. Most of the wounds they treated were lacerations, many times fractures. The thought of what could have crushed the hard dwarven bones truly terrified them and gave them an answer to the question of the brutal force their opponents wielded.
Just before dawn, all the wounded were out of danger, so they went out into the street, where they sat down on the nearest bench.
Aneth was tired after the long journey and the awake night in the infirmary. However, she did not complain and only her sunken eyes showed her fatigue.
However, she was awakened from her fatigue by the thump of chained boots, which forced Thomas to be on his feet again at that moment. Before they knew it, they saw Muradin coming with several guards and warriors supporting more wounded; among them women and children. The warriors were also battered, scraped and cut, but they handled it better than the villagers.
Thomas noticed how one of the warriors, apparently the commander of the regiment, was stumbling under his injury, so he ran towards him and caught him and the woman he was supporting.
"Eh, thanks," he thanked Thomas. "You can let me go, I just stumbled here."
"You don't look well, sir," Thomas remarked, ignoring his advice.
"Well, probably nobody now. Rachi, help the others get to the infirmary. The rest of us can handle it.”
Thomas nodded and supported the middle-aged dwarf. She was dressed in village clothes typical of dwarves, except that they were tattered and dirty with blood and ash. She briefly thanked Thomas, as her exhaustion did not allow her to say more. He led her into the infirmary to one of the free beds that had become free almost thanks to Aneth and left her there.
When he went out into the street, he saw Muradin talking to the regimental commander. Aneth was still sitting on the bench, silently listening to the conversation between the two.
"So you're serious about Kharanos, huh?" Muradin asked sharply. He seemed unusually indignant at the mere thought. "I'll show the bastards what it's like to have a midget kick their ass!"
“They didn't get to Kharanos directly. The ones we brought were mostly attacked by the roads. We should evacuate Kharanos. I can't keep flying back and forth from Ironforge, Muradin," replied the regimental commander. “Ironforge has a good defense system, not to mention Gnomeregan. No village in Dun Morogh has this.'
“Good point, Korth'azzi. If we have to defend so many villages, I'll just spit in my shoes and lose more people.
“Well, not that I'm fond of such a retreat, but we'll have a better chance of squeezing them if they're all here and safe. My two girls were not so lucky…”
"I will discuss it with my brother and we will leave within a day. He tapped him on the shoulder and gave him a sympathetic squeeze.
Korth'azz nodded and walked away down the street. Muradin shot a glance at the door of the infirmary, where he preferred not to look, and then looked at Thomas and Aneth.
"It was very nice of you to help the wounded even after such a long journey," Muradin thanked them. "Not that we don't have enough priests, but a day when the wounded keep pouring in is a day after all."
“You don't want to credit Lothar with that message to send reinforcements?” Aneth asked.
"No, it's a joke. We can do that. Old Terenas will soon have the same problems as us. Also, I doubt Lordaeron City has a gate as big as a cow, and an iron one at that. Just let him approach here; we still have enough liquid metal from the furnaces. They probably wouldn't be too thrilled if we turned it on him. Or hot volley…” Muradin waved his hand. "Telling a priest such vile things is not done. And not at all with my dictionary of "literary" words. But since you've decided to stay, you'll probably see them on your own anyway. But no one is keeping you here. You can lead at any time.”
"We're staying," Thomas said. "And if you want, I'll go get the villagers with you."
Muradin measured him carefully, and so did Aneth.
“Look, I don't mean to be gross, but you should put on some weight. You are skin and bones.'
"I'm skinny, but I've got muscles," Thomas protested.
"I won't wear your shirt."
"He'll take care of himself," Aneth spoke up, still gauging Thomas, "wouldn't he?"
Thomas nodded as he saw the urgent plea and concern for his life in the priestess's eyes. Even though he was taken aback, he decided to listen to her. She was very tired and Thomas didn't even want her to offer to go too.
"As you wish. But I'm not going to cut you out of a hot mess.” Muradin waved his hand at that. "I really don't know where you have a place to sleep right now, but as you can see, I'm very busy. But try asking the townspeople. They will certainly have a place for two priests.'
"When do you want to leave?"
"Well, when I talk to my brother. He should know about this. But it probably won't be before tomorrow. Put the child to sleep or you'll be useless in no time.” He left without any greeting.
As in Andorhal, there was someone in Ironforge who let the priestess and her entourage sleep in their house. It took them a while to find someone to guide them to the right door, but after an hour of wandering around town they did.
As it was morning, it was not a problem for the owner of the house to let both of them sleep to their heart's content. He lived alone in the house, and judging by his equipment, a rifle hanging on the wall and a green cloak with a hood, he was a mountaineer who, together with the others, guarded the area around the mountain.
The priestess was given a room on the second floor, Thomas slept downstairs so that he would be able to leave as soon as possible after waking up. They both fell asleep almost immediately due to the difficult journey and the awake night in the infirmary. Only Aneth was many times more tired and therefore slept longer than Thomas.
When night fell, Thomas only woke up for a moment when the owner of the house came back and left a pitcher of water on his table, apologizing that he had forgotten it in his haste. Thomas replied that nothing was happening, thanked him once more, drank and fell asleep again.
However, he woke up just before dawn and was no longer able to fall asleep, even though he still didn't feel like himself. He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, thoughts running through his head that gripped his heart more and more. It was that feeling of fear without a cause, which is known only to the subconscious, and there is no way to get rid of it. It was as if all the realization and weight of his decision and promise had caught up with him only now.
He got up as quietly as he could so as not to wake Aneth or their host, refilled his fluids one last time, donned a spare cassock, and made his way outside.
The warm air that circulated over the lava flow that flowed under the city and radiated through the grates placed at the bottom of the chute that divided almost the entire outer circular street in two did him good. You could almost say he was very relieved since he was in town. The frequent bouts of heat and cold stopped and he began to feel comfortable again. His body probably just needed the constant warmth that the fall time in Lordaeron couldn't provide. On the other hand, the irony was that he was better off inside the mountain and in the snowy kingdom. True, this day he had an expedition out. When he thought about it, he realized that he hadn't really thought it through.
He thought of going to the infirmary to see if they were doing well. When he arrived, he found that there were no more injuries, for which he was glad. So for a few hours he just stopped by for the healer, who was already too exhausted to change the bloody bandages of the wounded. It wasn't a hard job for Thomas, he couldn't spoil anything and was so happy to help.
He didn't even know how many hours had passed when a dwarf he didn't know appeared at the door of the infirmary, apparently looking for him. As he was the only human among the dwarves, he found him immediately.
"I don't know your name, but it's probably you. Yesterday you signed up for the expedition to Kharanos,” the dwarf told him.
"It's me," Thomas confirmed, tying a knot in the bandage and standing up. "Are we leaving yet?"
“Yeah,” the dwarf nodded, “in a moment. Then come with me.” He urged him with a jerk of his head.
When Thomas came out, the dwarf immediately began to question him:
"Did you eat anything?"
"No, sir."
“Don't call me sir. We mostly hang out here. It's friendlier,” the dwarf admonished. “Looks like it will be for a few hours. I might be there until the evening, so it would be wise to stuff yourself with something, because if you join us there, no one will drag you back.
"I'm not used to eating much," Thomas admitted.
“Well, you'll start in Ironforge. You're going to need that little bit of energy here, especially in times of war when we're probably not going to stop.” He began rummaging through the leather pouch on his belt, which was small, but big enough to hold quite a few useful things. Finally he pulled out a piece of something, wrapped in paper. "Na, that should be enough for you."
Thomas unwrapped it and discovered that it was a triangular piece cut from some kind of cake. The dwarf noticed that he was scrutinizing it as if it were somehow suspicious and so he said:
"You hollow out a loaf of bread, there's steak at the bottom, a piece of corn on top, pieces of bread dipped in tomato sauce, a slice of cheddar, and it's all pressed under pressure. It fits everywhere and will last you the whole day,” the dwarf explained. "You can eat it, don't worry. So tuck it in so I can go.'
Thomas shrugged and took a bite. As he rolled the morsel on his tongue, he realized two things: that it was really good, and that this little morsel was perfectly sufficient for his breakfast; it was so dense.
He wrapped the piece back in paper and put it in a pouch by his cassock.
"So what," the dwarf asked amused, "good?"
"By far the best I've ever eaten."
"Well, don't eat too much then," laughed the dwarf and led him further down the street to the city gates. The dwarf meant the remark as a joke, but Thomas was the only one to admit that he was right. He really hadn't tasted much in his life. Slowly it began to seem to him that he was only beginning to live now. And above all, he was beginning to realize that he felt much more relaxed among the dwarves. All the time he had been in Lordaeron his nerves were on edge, and now he seemed to finally be able to think normally. Only things that he didn't want and didn't intend to deal with right now came to the surface with relief.
The group they spotted at one of the main two gates was unmistakable. The dwarves who chose to go held the reins of tough rams with massive twisted horns. It hadn't occurred to Thomas until that moment that dwarves would have difficulty controlling horses. Even for his taste, the animal was terribly large and he was more than tall… but maybe it was because he hadn't been on a horse for more than a week.
Among the many rams, it was his grosak that stood out. Well, the horse was not directly his, but Thomas got used to him during the trip and found that the horse got used to him perfectly.
Muradin, who had apparently been instructing his men on the action the whole time, glared at them and immediately turned to face them.
"So what," he asked Thomas, who was gratefully taking over his peacoat, "you still haven't thought about it, have you?"
"I'm not," Thomas protested.
"Fine, what do you think? The dwarf quickly mounted his ram and gripped the reins. The rest of his men copied him. "But I'll tell you one thing," he pointed at him, something glinting in his eyes that startled Thomas, "if anything happens to you, it's not on me," he said, turning his mount towards the exit of the mountain.
Thomas wanted to counter the dwarf that in a much worse state he could do more than enough damage… but he just couldn't. Perhaps he will convince the dwarf that he is of some use, he thought as he mounted his horse. And perhaps he will also convince himself that if he allows himself to show his fierce nature on the battlefield, it will not result in his efforts collapsing like a house of cards.
As they exited the secret exit from the mountain, Thomas was immediately blasted by an icy gale. The frost almost smacked him in the face and sent an armful of sharp needles, if not scalpels, into his lungs. However, as he took the second and third breaths, he was getting used to it, and with each subsequent breath the shock became less and less. The dwarves, who rode in front of him on mountain rams with absolute certainty even on the snowy, icy surface, looked behind him from time to time to see if he was handling the heat shock well. It was particularly frosty that morning, as the sky was clear and cloudless. A cold wind was blowing, which did not help Thomas's condition in any way, and also began to remind him that his hair had grown quite a bit and that he should start tying it with a bow.
At first he felt a terrible cold inside, and then only on the surface, as if he didn't even perceive any stimuli. The skin became completely numb. Strange as it was, Thomas somehow enjoyed the pain the cold caused. His body was letting him know he was alive, even though he didn't have to be. That's why he didn't even want to think how terribly he hates it when it's cold outside or when the sun is too bright. Now he was happy for anything, even though his body was telling him that he no longer liked the excessive cold and was slowly approaching the state that had already almost cost him his life. But at least he was moving now. Before that, he almost died because he resigned himself to life.
It took a long time for them to descend the great escarpment on which a road had been built that ascended to the Ironforge gate. More than once Thomas was afraid that the poor buck's hoof would slip and break his legs, which would mean death for the horse, as he would never get back on his feet. But the stallion stepped very carefully, as if he himself knew what he could afford on such a surface. On the other hand, the rams almost disappeared from his sight, although many dwarves tried to make him at least see where they were turning.
When they got on a straight path, it was much more cheerful. It was only snowy, without an ice crust under the layer of snow. Thanks to this, Thomas soon caught up with the dwarves, although he still kept a large distance from them. Even now he secretly wished they would come back, as the icy air began to cut his throat whenever he took a breath. But no, he can do it. He is tough enough, otherwise he would never have survived this long and alone.
They crossed the bridge over the frozen river and the smell of smoke hit Thomas' nose. But not the smoke that comes from fireplaces and fires. This was something else. As they got much closer he found out what it was.
Smoke rose from a village in sight, and shouts and sounds of struggle could be heard. He overheard Muradin, who was riding at the very front, casting a juicy spell at the orcs. They were late, he thought. But if not, he will fight calmly even with his bare fists. He promised to help, so he will keep it.
The rams entered the village. And at that exact moment, orcs rushed at the dwarves from behind the first buildings. When Thomas saw those bodies, just mountains of muscle, his heart almost stopped. And a moment later, when one of them swung his giant mace and slammed into Muradin's ram with all his might, he understood why Stormwind didn't stand a chance.
The ram and its rider flew away and lay with dented ribs on the snow stained with gray ash. Muradin landed some distance away, lucky not to be trapped under his mount. But before Thomas knew it, he saw even in the small distance that separated him from the others, Muradin rose, drew his hammers, and with a war cry mixed with anger at the loss of his beloved animal, ran towards the orc. The orc swung at him and the mace crashed into the ground. Muradin also swung and hit the prone enemy in the back of the head with all his strength. An orc fell to the ground with a crushed skull and another took his place.
At that moment, the other dwarves started to fight. Some of the rams were able to pick them up on their horns and throw them away, but it was evident that the animals did not stand up so effectively against such creatures. So they spurred the rams to a trot, drove away from the burning buildings where they had dismounted and the orcs couldn't reach them, and ran back to the fight.
Thomas dismounted a good distance before the village. The thought of not returning without his horse terrified him. He ran over to Muradin, who still didn't realize that he was bleeding from his sleep and that he had apparently hit his head badly. Anger seemed to keep him on his feet.
When he recognized Thomas' slim figure, he gave him an unreadable glance.
“Still the same hero when you see this?” he asked, tossing his head towards the burning houses.
Thomas was about to reply when another enemy came running from around the corner with a war cry that would have forced a weaker character to put his feet on his shoulders. Thomas pushed the dwarf violently just as the orc's hand holding the giant ax followed the trajectory and would have cut off his head on the spot. Thomas dodged sharply only due to the effect of trained reflexes. The orc swung again and Thomas jumped again. As he was about to swing wide, which he apparently couldn't avoid, two hammers slammed into the orc's ribs with all their might. The opponent, as if not paying much attention to it, turned sharply on Muradin, rage burning in his small eyes.
He reached up, and at the same moment Thomas grabbed a still glowing splintered piece of wood that had fallen from the supports of a nearby house and stabbed it into the orc's neck.
The adversary continued to struggle for a while, gasping for breath and choking on his own blood. After a while, however, his huge body fell into the snow and stopped moving.
Thomas looked alternately at the dead orc and at his hands, brittle with frost and stained with soot from the beam. Muradin eyed his opponent with no less interest, but cast an almost reproachful look at Thomas, as if accusing him of his overly quick reflexes and somewhat aggressive tendencies.
Then a muffled scream echoed through the air coming from one of the buildings. Muradin seemed to wake up from his lethargy, he turned his head sharply in those places and immediately after that again at Thomas. He understood that he should go and leave the fight to Muradin.
They split up. Muradin ran to help his men, Thomas trotted towards the house that looked like it was about to collapse. He didn't know if it was the icy air that stung him, or the realization that even for that moment he wasn't acting human again.
Aneth did not wake up until later in the afternoon. With the startle that accompanies someone who has forgotten something important enough, she shot into a sitting position, pulled on the rest of her clothing over her basic cassock, and ran down the stairs. The owner of the house greeted her briefly in the hall, she greeted him, but seeing that she was in a hurry, he did not try to wonder where she was in such a hurry.
Even though she wandered around the city for a while, the guards quickly told her where to go to the infirmary and she got there early. There were no more wounded, but according to the dialogues between the priests and the nurses, she concluded that if Muradin arrived back, the wounded would increase again. She helped what she could and then made her way to the city gates. She couldn't help but notice that she hadn't arrived alone. Healers, guards were waiting at the gates, and among all the dwarves, one single one stood out with an ornate diadem on his head: Magni Bronzebeard himself. And next to him, his younger brother Brann, less formally dressed: in a linen business suit with a battered leather hat.
As she guessed correctly, they were both worried about their brother. The orc attacks were increasing in intensity, and many dwarves had no family members coming back, nor were they expected to return at all. Although she didn't do this often, she moved closer to hear the two.
Although Muradin said he would discuss everything with Magni, the king disagreed with perhaps half of the things and refused to let his brother go so soon. But Muradin raised his head and left early in the morning with others who were willing to follow him. Brann was somewhat puzzled as to how the other dwarves who had left with Muradin had also disobeyed the king's order, but Magni understood this very well. A lot of them had families left in Kharanos, and in that case all the regulations would no longer apply.
Aneth decided not to listen anymore. The wait was endless and she began to feel a growing sense of anxiety. She didn't want to admit it, but they were related to Thomas. She should have gone out with him. If he finds out he didn't arrive, he'll blame himself. What would she say to Faol then? She still didn't really know why he was trying to save him and she wanted to find out herself.
"They're on their way!" came the voice of one of the guards who ran out of a secret passage in the mountain. Aneth didn't know if a stone fell from her heart or another one fell on her heart, but with a quick step she made her way to the passage where the others were also heading.
It wasn't long before a ram passed through the passage, on whose back sat a wounded dwarf, apparently still very young. One of the warriors led him by the bridle. Behind him came others, carrying on their backs those who could not walk: the burned, maimed, wounded, and bleeding inhabitants of Kharanos. While the guards were helping the wounded from the backs of the rams, the healers were already taking over to get them out of the worst of it.
Magni watched the whole scene in silence. He didn't give orders because everyone knew what to do. The crowd began to thin, and that's when Magni sprang to attention, looking for Muradin. It was obvious that he feared the worst. Aneth understood him completely: she was looking for Thomas, who could not be missed among all the dwarves.
But then Thomas appeared, supporting Muradin directly and still leading his horse by the bridle, whose saddle was empty, as no dwarf could stand to sit on it. The dwarf was beaten, there was dried blood on his temple, and they were both dirty with soot and blood. But Muradin's communication skills seemed unharmed. As soon as he saw his brother running towards him, he immediately lit up.
"Hi bro, did you miss me?" he asked in a tone as if he had just returned from a simple walk.
Magni didn't bother to say hello and hugged his brother tightly.
"Do you know how scared I was?!" he snapped at brother Magni as soon as his joy at seeing Muradin alive faded.
"Yeah, well, what can be done. Someone had to go there.” Immediately he grabbed his injured forearm. One of the healers was about to look at his injury when Muradin turned to him and gave him an almost murderous look. "There are many others here who need help more than I do!" And with that he let him know that he should calm down and help others. He then looked at Magni. "We killed everyone. It was tough, but we cut them into pieces. But I doubt you won't come back…”
Then Aneth took advantage of the fact that the dwarves were not paying attention to her, ran after Thomas and, even covered in soot and blood, hugged him tightly.
Thomas didn't expect this at all and froze for a moment, not knowing what to do.
"Are you hurt?" she asked him immediately as she released him and inspected him with her eyes. She didn't notice the dirty robes at all.
"No," Thomas lied. He was cut, scratched, battered, and had a nasty bruise on his hand from getting his hand stuck in the beams while trying to get a villager girl out from under the rubble. In the end, however, he freed her, and he would have felt good about it if he hadn't been struggling with the question that had been weighing on him ever since he had saved Muradin. If the dwarf hadn't looked at him so reproachfully, perhaps he wouldn't have thought so much about it.
"But it is," said Muradin, who had just finished discussing with the two brothers. "Nice bullshit! Guide him somewhere he can practice. And by all means stuff something edible in it. You look really awful, man.'
"I'm Thomas," he protested, though he was in no mood to argue with the dwarf in front of the king. He felt completely timid in front of Magni.
"Fine, Thomas, now you can get dressed, change your clothes and eat yourself. Is it clear?"
If it weren't for that stern look, he might have resisted the dwarf for a while longer, but when he remembered the moment when Muradin gave him such a reproachful look, he nodded instead. Meanwhile, Aneth obediently listened to the instructions where to take him, took his arm and slowly led him away.
Thomas hissed at the sound of a bruise, but ignored the other injuries. He briefly looked back as they were taking his buck and the other rams to the stables, but he also caught sight of Muradin, fixing his gaze in his direction. He was almost certain that the dwarf would not take him to any such event again.
Once Aneth had led him to the appointed place, Thomas assured her that he would handle the rest. So the healer left with the information that she would be in the infirmary and left him in the washroom. Thanks to the residual heat from the stoves, there was plenty of hot water and it was definitely more pleasant than washing with ice water. There was no such luxury in Lordaeron unless one was of noble birth. But Thomas did not enjoy such a luxury even with a cold one; for the first time in the monastery he could wash himself in clean water. But now he found himself wishing he could stay in that wooden tub all day. Although his wounds started to hurt a little more in the heat, but on the other hand, he seemed to be relieved.
After changing into the clean cassock he had brought with him, he examined the dirty one. It was scuffed and burned in several places and he wondered if it was worth washing it. In the end he decided not to and so he took her with him to the apartment where they took refuge.
And when he sat down on his bed, all the wounds he had received that day suddenly sounded. Like someone hit him in the ribs with a hammer. He wanted to collapse on the bed and just sob quietly, but he controlled himself. He was supposed to report somewhere on orders, and he realized that he was weak and really hungry. He didn't even have time to get up when there was a knock on the door and it finally opened.
"So what about the food?" asked the dwarf, peering into the room.
"Don't worry, I'm getting up," Thomas replied, standing up with great effort, holding his ribs.
"But not. I wanted to ask if you wanted lamb or pork.'
"I've never eaten either."
"Hey… what do you ever eat?" asked the dwarf, and Thomas recognized him as the exact one who had given him a piece of the strange salty cake. He had already forgotten that he had gone with them to Kharanos and that he had returned from there.
"Probably not as much as you."
"I have to watch over you first so you start eating a little. And orders from such a lovely lady should be taken seriously.'
"Ah, well, in that case-" Thomas stopped, sizing up the dwarf seriously. "Which Miss?"
"Well Aneth. You hardly eat at all before. But don't worry. We'll fix you up here. We seriously won't let you starve to death!'
Thomas looked at him like an apparition. Except for the terrible battle in Kharanos, which he did not want to talk about with anyone and rather tried to erase it from his mind, this was starting to be the best part of his life. He still couldn't believe how warm all the dwarves were.