Expansion - Chapter 23

 

Brikel – The Mining Guild

Brikel takes in the energy and excitement of Durnbim Hold as they exit the tunnel from Root‑Stone Hearth. The cavern is alive with movement — miners, Legionnaires, Guild workers, and traders all flowing through the wide stone avenues.

 “There it is!” Thavrin calls, pointing to the polished stone emblem of the Mining Guild above a broad archway. A group of miners spill out from the entrance, laughing and talking.

 “Brikel!” a voice calls.

He turns. It’s Helvar — the acolyte — pushing Elder Bromvek’s cart.

“Wait a moment.”

Brikel watches as Helvar rummages through one of the cart’s drawers and pulls out two carefully wrapped slates.

He hands them over. “This is Mardek’s smidasaga and sagnasteinn. I hadn’t had time to send them.”

Brikel nods, feeling the weight of both slates settle into his hands. “The Guild will ensure they reach his clan.”

Helvar nods once, then pushes the cart toward the large Chapel marked with Durn’s symbol carved deep into the stone.

 

Thavrin steps up to the clerk at the Guild doorway, who begins reading off the names of the engineering team. When Mardek’s name is read, Brikel steps forward.

“This is the Sagnasteinn and Smidasaga for Mardek Slate‑Runner,” he says. “His tasks were completed.”

The clerk’s expression tightens — nervously he accepts the wrapped slates. “Are there any members of his clan among you?”

They all shake their heads slowly.

Brikel speaks again, voice steady. “As one of the participants in his smidasaga, I formally request the Mining Guild present these to his clan, as is his right.”

Thavrin and Yivra step beside him and repeat, in unison, “As is his right.”

The clerk swallows, holding the slates as though they might shatter. “Please stay here.” He disappears through the doorway.

Voices carry faintly from inside:

“Yes, this is the engineer team that lost a man. These need to go to his clan.”

A pause.

“I don’t care. Get me a runner. These are your responsibility now.”

 

A moment later, the clerk returns, composed again, and resumes handing out badges, reciting the standard reminders about Guild privileges and lodging.

Thavrin turns to the group. “Let’s get inside. Find a bed or a cubby, secure your gear, then explore the Hold.”

The engineers nod, the weight of the day settling over them as they step into the Guild Hall.

 

Walking through Durnbim Hold, Brikel is struck by how many people crowd the stone avenues and how much activity churns around him. Lamps and glow‑stones hang from carved brackets, casting shifting layers of light and shadow across the bustling cavern.

 

Near the Grand Chapel, rows of stalls have been set up, each one selling religiously themed items. Painted copies of Durn’s Laws hang beside carved scenes of Durn forging iron, smelting ore, or digging the First Tunnel — each stall emphasizing a different teaching.

Voices call out as he passes.

“You look like one of the faithful.”

“See the quality of the carving!”

“Gain Durn’s blessing by owning—”

“Made from the finest of Durn’s gifts!”

Brikel shakes his head and moves on.

He searches for a market district, but instead finds stalls clustered outside the Clan Halls, each selling the wares of that clan. The Smithing Guild has claimed an entire building, its front lined with polished tools and weapons stamped with the Guild’s certification rune.

It all feels… wrong.

He remembers the few times he visited when this was still a Bimkor community — the old trader’s market, the smell of roasting roots, the sound of haggling. He walks to where the market used to be.

But everything has changed.

The cluster of stalls and booths is gone, replaced by a carved stone block building bearing the emblem of the Traders' Guild. A few booths line the walls, but the space feels colder, more controlled, busy but less vibrant.

He also notices how many dwarves wear Guild emblems denoting their trade.

Pairs of Legion of Stone patrol the avenues, walking with the same steady rhythm the Peacekeepers once had. The biggest difference is the brown leather instead of the old blue wool — and the iron‑headed hammers hanging beside their clubs.

Brikel exhales and turns back toward the Mining Guild Hall, where he can clean up before Hearth-Meal.

 

The dining hall is a much larger, more polished version of the one at Root‑Stone Hearth. One entire wall is lined with cooks and servers; the long tables and benches run in straight, disciplined rows. At the far end, a stone basin waits for dirty plates and utensils. Brikel nods at the orderly structure — very Guild, very efficient.

He joins the line and waits for the Hearth‑Meal bell. He doesn’t recognize most of the dwarves around him; he spends more time with engineers than miners, after all.

The bell rings. The line surges forward. Plates clatter, ladles dip, and food is placed on plates.

Brikel grabs the center of an empty table. He glances around, wondering if the Guild will have someone give a blessing. No one steps forward. So he dips his bread into the gravy and takes a bite.

“I see you’re sitting with all of your friends,” Helka says as she sits diagonal from him, followed by Brenna, Yivra, and Olmra.

“Just saving seats for lovely ladies like you,” he replies with a grin.

“Oh, now that we aren’t in a remote border site, now he compliments us,” Yivra teases.

Brenna sips her root‑tea. “You look better now that you’ve had a good shower and clean clothes too.” She glances past Brikel and brightens. “Brammir! Come sit with us.”

Brikel nods as the miner approaches and settles onto the bench.

“I’m glad to see you made it back safely, Brenna,” Brammir says.

“You too. Did your whole team get recalled?”

“Yes. We all made it back safely.” He takes a bite of gravy‑soaked meat. “It was strange. Bimadizi‑Kor was cleared out. We were the only ones there until the Iron Legion moved in and escorted us out. Everyone was gone except for the gobbler bodies we saw.”

Brikel pauses mid‑bite. “Bodies? What bodies?”

“About half a dozen. Looked like they’d been hung.” Brammir shrugs. “We didn’t check ’em. Just saw ’em before the Legion arrived.”

“I wonder if they’re related to the ones Korrin saw,” Yivra muses.