"I merely stepped out to welcome a guest, and suddenly I'm branded a liar," remarked a voice as the guards swung open the side door. King Royce Paul Sain of Brigar strode into the banquet hall with nimble steps. Though short in stature, he still towered over the goblin trailing behind him. Richard Grace and Einington followed in his wake. "I take it the palace ale doesn't agree with your delicate palate?"

  "If I brought my stash of beer, it'd fill your whole little palace," Porchet Malen Owen retorted, raising his goblet with exaggerated dignity. "To our King of Duviliel, Richard Grace." He drained his dark beer in a single, dramatic gulp. "It seems we're missing just one more royal backside."

  "Do cease your endless complaints, dear Porchet," Queen Shirley Farland of Megonian chided, languidly swirling the crimson wine in her glass. "Lloyd's even older than Moore, and I hear he's not doing so well. Not sure if he'll even make it. Can't expect an old guy to move too fast."

  No sooner had the King of Popodovis settled back into his seat than the guards opened the side door once more. "Ah, the moment we've all been awaiting has arrived! How positively thrilling," Porchet declared, turning toward Royce, who sat comfortably upon his ivory-adorned chair. "You promised me it's time to eat. I'm looking forward to those 'special treats' you were talking about." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "The ones that supposedly exemplify Brigar's legendary hospitality."

  A modestly attired young woman entered the banquet hall. "What the hell? Is Richard pulling a Moore with the serving girls now?" Porchet Malen Owen grumbled, eyeing the newcomer with undisguised disappointment. "How much longer must Lloyd keep us waiting?"

  The young woman gradually commanded the attention of everyone present—except Royce—as she proceeded directly to the seat reserved for the King of Ellytra.

  "What's the meaning of this?" Porchet asked, bewilderment creeping into his voice. "Young lady, King Richard's seat is over there."

  The girl met his gaze unflinchingly with eyes the color of deep forest moss, creating a moment of palpable discomfort.

  "...What peculiar business is this?" King Noland Lister Russbinder of Arisindra ventured shakily. "I was unaware Ellytra had suddenly sprouted a queen."

  "Perhaps recent developments have changed the monarchy's complexion," Queen Shirley Farland remarked, delicately twirling her silver goblet between elegant fingers. "Let us raise our glasses to the Queen of Ellytra."

  "I'm afraid I cannot yet claim such a lofty title," the girl replied, offering Shirley a measured smile. "My father's health has faltered, so I attend in his stead." She pulled out her chair before the servant could reach it and seated herself with practiced grace.

  "I am Angela Disterin Lloyd, Princess of Ellytra." Her penetrating green eyes swept methodically across the assembled monarchs. "Shall we begin?"

  "Well... how should I approach this..." The captain whispered conspiratorially to the knight beside him. "I've little experience negotiating with dwarves. Perhaps you should take the lead?"

  "They've already seen us, Captain," the Black Rider replied, indicating with a subtle glance. "Anyone can see you hold the highest rank here, Benjamin. Showing hesitation now would be strategically unwise."

  "...Very well. I stand ready to cut them down should diplomacy fail." He barked orders to the three cloaked knights: "Encircle them completely."

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The four dwarves and their human companion approached the knights with what appeared to be deliberate nonchalance. "Greetings, good sirs!" Walin Barklo Vaslov exclaimed as he sprang nimbly from his mount and executed an exaggerated bow. "Most honorable knights, Walin stands ready to serve!"

  "Jim eagerly awaits your command!" Jim Harad announced, dismounting with a flourish.

  "Fendi offers his humble service!" Fendi Firshield declared as he jumped down.

  "Holar presents himself for duty." Holar Peter Wilton alighted more soberly.

  "..." Caroline Tobias maintained her stony silence.

  "Excellent," Captain Benjamin cleared his throat imperiously. "Gentlemen dwarves, kindly identify yourselves and state your business."

  "We are—"

  "Perhaps you might first extend the courtesy of introducing yourselves?" Caroline interrupted Walin coolly.

  "Well, well, we have a lady among them," Benjamin observed, his gaze lingering inappropriately on her form. "You show remarkable composure for someone facing fully armed knights, miss." He gestured broadly to himself and his comrades.

  "If your impressive equipment wasn't acquired through theft or plunder, then surely you can identify yourselves without reservation," she replied flatly, her expression remaining utterly impassive.

  "We represent a patrol detachment from the Cynthia Ranger Regiment, commonly known as the Shadowgreen Knights," one of the knights announced stiffly. "Now it's your turn. No deceptions."

  "Please, gentlemen, there's no cause for tension," Walin interjected smoothly. "The truth is quite simple—we are refugees."

  "Poor refugees," Jim Harad added with theatrical melancholy.

  "Truly tragic refugees," Holar Peter Wilton contributed solemnly.

  "Absolutely desolate refugees," Fendi Firshield sighed dramatically.

  "..." Caroline Tobias examined her fingernails with studied indifference.

  "Refugees, you say?" Captain Benjamin contemplated the word thoughtfully. "War refugees, then. From where do you flee?"

  "From Crividsylvan, naturally, my lord," Walin replied with an affable smile. "Surely you wouldn't expect us to be refugees from Cynthia itself?"

  The knights remained stoically unamused. "You think you're funny, dwarf?" challenged a knight positioned on the western flank of their formation. "Cynthia produces no refugees. Do you genuinely believe those southern barbarians could penetrate our invincible fortifications?"

  "Absolutely not, brother! I couldn't agree more wholeheartedly," Jim Harad declared, drawing himself up to his full—albeit limited—height and planting his hands authoritatively on his hips. "Though I've only just laid eyes on your magnificent walls, I can confidently assert that Godmans attempting to breach Cynthia would be as ludicrous as ants trying to devour a walnut cake."

  "Walnut cake? What peculiar confection is that?" the captain inquired, his brow furrowing. "As a northerner born and bred, I've never encountered such a creation."

  "It's a special dessert invented by his wife," Fendi Firshield explained helpfully, illustrating with animated hand gestures. "Round in shape, two distinct layers, with its surface entirely encrusted with impenetrable walnuts."

  "I see! A most apt comparison," Captain Benjamin nodded approvingly. "Behold in that direction—can you glimpse our formidable walls?" He pointed eastward, then realized the view consisted entirely of dense foliage. "Ah, I momentarily forgot our sylvan surroundings. Nevertheless, that gentleman has witnessed their grandeur," he acknowledged, nodding toward Jim. "Remind me of your name again?"

  "Jim. Jim Harad," the dwarf replied with thinly veiled irritation.

  "Yes, of course, Mr. Harad," the captain continued. "In your estimation, what manner of weapon might successfully breach Cynthia's defenses?"

  "Excluding magical means, I presume?"

  "Naturally, Mr. Harad. The Godmans would hardly be foolish enough to rely on such unpredictable forces."

  "Siege catapults—the most massive variety ever constructed. That's the only possibility I can envision. Although..." Jim paused, a mysterious smile playing across his features, "even with a hundred such engines, they might, at best, chip away a thumb-sized fragment."

  Uproarious laughter erupted from the assembly, with Jim's booming guffaw leading the chorus. "I like these dwarves!" Captain Benjamin exclaimed, slapping his comrade's armored shoulder enthusiastically. "Verbose they may be, but refreshingly forthright."

  (You'd better genuinely appreciate us,) Fendi thought darkly. (Otherwise, this encounter won't end favorably for either party.)