I looked around to realize that I was wandering: I had found myself in the magical underground garden I had seen on my first day. I hadn't come in here until now. I guessed I had forgotten, what with all the monsters and conspiracies.
It was pretty beautiful. Magical sunlight, indistinguishable from the real thing, in both light and warmth; grass, flower beds, a small pond lined with stones. Wooden benches were scattered throughout. I picked one near the pond.
The water was crystal clear and I could see numerous colorful fish darting this way and that. It was serene.
I bet Tessa spent a lot of time here.
Tessa.
She came to mind quicker and more readily than I expected. I'd been thinking about her a lot over the last few months.
She was so happy and positive, even when it was difficult. She was excitable and easily distracted, but wickedly clever and a consummate professional when it came to her job. I had a deep admiration for her.
I had gotten plenty of chances to talk to her one-on-one. We would go for lunch, take long walks, she'd occasionally join me at the library. And all of that time was spent talking.
I learned a lot about her.
She got her halfling lineage from her mother. Her father was a dwarf from Askar, just like Hask. I remembered Tessa mentioning that the foreman was her uncle on her father's side.
She joked that since she was only halfling on her mom's side, that made her a "quarterling." She was also incredibly funny. And she had a laugh that made me want to hear it over and over again.
Apparently halflings didn't have grand cities or one kingdom at all. They had plenty of towns all over the continent and always had big families; she herself was one of seventeen children. I didn't know much about family dynamics, but that seemed like a lot.
She explained to me that her people didn't really experience home-sickness the way others do. Home was wherever you were happy. If you weren't happy somewhere, it wasn't your home. I had heard the adage "home is where the heart is" before, but it seemed to me that halflings had that idea woven into their very being.
She said that she wanted to see her siblings and family again soon, but she didn't really "miss" them, like myself or Kael might miss people. She felt right at home in Moorhaven. And with us.
Halflings also had a tradition of gift giving that wasn't tied to occasions. If you thought of someone and wanted to get them a gift, you got it for them. That seemed nice to me. She had explained this after she had gotten me a silver ring from a vendor and I asked her what the occasion was. She responded that it just "suited me."
I liked it. It was a plain silver band, unadorned.
She had given it to me a month ago and I hadn't taken it off since. I was only realizing that now. When did that become normal?
I found myself always listening raptly to her stories, and I felt bad that I had none to share in return. Whenever I mentioned this, she'd say that one day I'd remember an event from my life as an assassin that was super cool and I could tell her.
And the one thought that pushed its way to the forefront of my mind constantly, no matter what else was happening: The way her eyes looked in the sunlight dappling into the back room at Boil and Bubble. The way the light had made her bright red hair glow like fire.
As I stared into the pond, I turned the ring on my finger and realized that I hadn't paid this much attention to anyone else.
I knew things about Kael, but we never talked that deeply. I assumed that would come in time, but he was definitely more awkward about his personal life.
And Alara…
Alara had never given me much, but I always noticed her. She was constantly angry, frustrated, and found the rest of us irritating. But I had seen her cry. I had seen the way she protected us in the Ebon Maw, even when she was sobbing over Hask.
There was a person there. I had already seen it a little, and even more so recently. But Hask had confirmed it.
I wanted to see the Alara that he had.
I wanted to know what made her smile. I wanted to know if she had a favorite spell. I wanted to learn about her people, the elves.
And most of all, I just wanted her to talk to me. Really talk to me.
But I remembered the foreman's words about letting people feel safe. So I had decided to wait for her. Let her know she was safe with me.
But was she?
I didn't even really know who I was. My memory stretched less than half a year back. And although I didn't think I was an assassin or a spy or anything cool, I didn't know either way.
Who was I before I woke up in that bed all those months ago? Was I a good person? A bad person? What led to me getting a head wound and ending up washed onto a riverbank?
I had no answers for it. For any of it. For who Hask really was; for what was happening with the dungeons; for why I thought about Tessa so much; for why I wanted to reach out to Alara so badly, despite her never once actually being nice to me…
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
For who Lorne Callister really was.
But what I did know was that it was time to stop observing and filing those observations away. It was time for answers. It was time to figure out exactly what all of this was and what it all meant.
It was time to go talk to Hask.
On my walk to the foreman's office, I rehearsed everything I wanted to say to him. Then I promptly scrapped all of it and started over.
I hadn't decided on any of it by the time I arrived.
Hask's office door was open, which meant he was willing to be interrupted.
I didn't knock immediately. I just stopped to watch.
His desk was buried. Papers, files, ledgers — the organized chaos of someone working a problem from multiple angles simultaneously. Hask sat in the middle of it with a mug of something and the expression of a man who had been thinking for a very long time and wasn't finished.
In one hand he held his mug, in the other he was fidgeting with something. I looked closer and saw that it was a ring. He rolled it in between his fingers, not looking at it. It was very clearly a practiced motion. He probably wasn't even fully aware he was doing it.
He looked stressed. His beard was unbraided, somewhat messy. His tunic was stained from something being spilled on it. His eyes were bloodshot - lack of sleep, most likely.
I guess I had stood there too long. "Callister. Almost didn't see you there. Come in. Close the door."
He hadn't even looked up from his work. Unsurprised, I stepped into the room and shut the door.
He looked up at me and held my gaze for a long moment before speaking again. "I don't think I've had you in my office yet. Have a seat."
Once again, I obeyed, lowering myself into the armchair across from his desk. I had come here on my own to talk to him, but now it felt like I was here because he sent for me.
He continued to look at me. I didn't sense any strong emotion from him, which meant he wasn't angry with me. I was glad.
He stood from his chair and walked over to a cabinet where a small wooden cask sat, tapped and clearly being used. He refilled his mug and gestured to an empty one. "Want a drink?"
I nodded. Why not?
He poured me my own drink and handed it to me without a word. I took a sip. Ale. The best ale I'd tasted in my memory of my life. It was the kind of ale that made everything else taste like it was trying. Dark, cold, slightly bitter on the first sip and then something richer underneath — roasted grain, a faint sweetness, something that tasted genuinely like it was made by someone who really cared about making ale.
I didn't have a lot of memories but I was fairly confident nothing had ever tasted like that.
Hask grunted. "Good, huh?"
I tried to put it into words. "Y-yeah."
"Stoneguard. Best ale the dwarves ever made. Took some leave to go home and get some last year. Spent way too much gold too. Came home with ten casks. Only one more after this one."
"I can see why."
"Mhm."
We sat in silence, which I wasn't sure was awkward or not. "What can I do for you, Callister?"
As he locked eyes with me once again, I felt my resolve break slightly. He wasn't glaring or leaning in. Just watching. I wasn't afraid of him by any means, but everything I had rehearsed on the way here went out the window. "I…uh…"
I looked at the desk. "Just wanted to see how the report stuff is going."
Hask sat back in his chair, still playing with the ring. I noticed that the metal was impossibly smooth.
He said nothing for a very long moment. He seemed like he was trying to decide what, if anything, to tell me. "This stays right here in this room and doesn't leave. Clear?"
I gulped. "Crystal, sir."
Hask picked up a file and set it back down, not to show me the contents but to make clear he'd been working. "The report cover-ups aren't local. I used some contacts to confirm it. Across the empire. Maybe further. Not sure yet."
I felt that pit in my stomach again. "I have no idea who's doing it or why. But that's what I've got."
He gestured with a different folder. "Also got some info about the core. It's not our Guild's magic. It's not the adventurers. Or the scholars."
He took a long swig of his ale and I followed suit, both out of respect and a suddenly parched throat. "The magic is old. And we don't know what it is. Whoever sabotaged the cores has access to something no one else does."
Given what I believed to be true about Hask, that was a genuinely alarming statement. "What does that mean, Sir?"
He rested his face in his palm, and for a moment, I didn't see the Hask I knew. I saw a man who was deeply, truly, in-his-bones tired. "I have no idea."
I really hadn't wanted to hear that. "I find a rock, turn it over, and there's only a map to another rock. A bad map, too."
He put the ring in his pocket. "But I have a guess: The elginarium was a justification. not the reason. Someone wanted the Ebon Maw opened again. For something. And I think the boss's respawn hindered that."
I felt my breath catch. Hask really was digging.
I searched for something helpful to say and came up with nothing.
Hask saved me the trouble. "That's about where I'm at. Don't tell the others about it. I don't want to scare them."
That statement felt heavy to me in a way I couldn't define. "Yes, sir."
We sat in silence and finished our drinks. I set the mug down. "Foreman, I have a question."
"Hm."
I steeled my nerve. "How long have you been a Foreman?"
I watched him closely as I asked. He didn't tense, didn't even give a sign that he had heard me. But his eyes were once again trained on me. Observing.
Another pregnant pause.
Then. "Long enough."
Those two words, had I not known who I was talking to, would have infuriated me. Instead, I let it go. "I should get some sleep. Good luck. Let me know if I can help."
"I will."
I stood to leave. As I pulled the door open, Hask called from behind me. "Callister."
I froze. "Yes, sir?"
"You've been going to the library a lot lately."
Grateful to have my back to him, I exhaled slowly. "Yes, sir. I want to learn more about dungeons and the empire."
A beat. "That's good. Education's important."
My throat was bone dry again.
"Get some rest, Callister. We have a job in a couple of days. Make sure you're ready."
"Yes sir. Good night."
As I shut the door behind me, I leaned against it and let my heart stop racing. I had not expected any of that.
But I had a foot in the door on getting information. That was good enough for now.
As I walked back to my dormitory, I stopped dead in my tracks as I had a realization.
Hask had mentioned Stoneguard Ale before.
I stood in the corridor for a long moment.
Then I went to bed.
My console still hadn't changed.