There was a moment of hesitation before Gwynlyn placed the bowl she had carried with her on the table. I was able to get a good look and was intrigued. What had looked like a normal, earthenware bowl from the outside was inlaid with golden runes, all around the rim, forming a circle. When I looked closer, I realised that I knew most of the runes, some well, some not so much. They were very similar, almost identical, to the runes I had used quite a long time ago when I had taken the Water-Mirror spell in the Grimoire I had been given by the Grandmother and used it as a base from which I had developed my own shadow-scrying spell.

“We dwarves pride us in our ability to work with stone, metal and magic.” Gwynlyn boasted, sounding quite satisfied at my intense concentration when looking at her magic bowl. I simply ignored her, pushing Lenore’s sight to the forefront of my mind, only to realise that the bowl, while still containing lingering traces of magic, was otherwise inactive.

“It is an interesting piece of work.” I admitted when I was unable to unravel its mysteries with just my eyes. Part of me considered, for just a moment, to simply murder the dwarves before they could report back but there were just a few problems with that, mainly Dargira who would respawn, no matter what. In addition, there was no guarantee that I’d be able to wrestle the bowls secrets from it by myself. But maybe I’d be able to trade some of the dwarven enchanting-techniques for our work.

The still smirking Gwynlyn took out a waterskin, filling the bowl with clear water barely wetting the runes, before sitting back and placing her hands on the outside. I could feel the magic being channelled, even without Lenroe’s sight, but looking through her eyes allowed me to follow the flow of magic through the runes. I realised that the differences I had noticed earlier weren’t due to the runes being different but due to imperfect craftsmanship. At the small imperfections, a small amount of Astral Power was leaking out, making the spell require more power than normally necessary. I also noticed that the Cleric seemed to simply pump Astral Power into the bowl, without actually doing anything with it, a battery, or blood harvested with Blood Magic, would be able to do the same.

Watching the spell take form was not that much different from my own spells, making me assume that the bowl was similar to the rune-stones I had received in the beginning, only a lot more complex. On the water-surface, an image formed, showing an empty room before the image of a dwarf came into view.

Thanks to Lenore, I was able to follow the conversation in their language. Gwynlyn told the dwarf, apparently a mix between phone-operator and guard, that she had a report for the Thane. There were a few minutes of shaking, a little disorienting as it looked like the water-surface was disturbed but it was really the surface on the other side, reflected back to us, before the image resolved again, with two bearded, regal looking dwarves being visible.

The three dwarves with me instantly stood, giving a short bow with their right hand over their hand, greeting their Thane in unison. I simply looked on, partially to demonstrate that I wasn’t his subject but also because I had decided to hide the fact that I was understanding what they were saying. It might be a useful surprise, later down the line, and there was really no reason to give it away.

It was interesting to listen to Helmaic give his report, describing how his people had ventured to one of the streams flowing out of the swamp and followed it upstream. They didn’t get far into the swamp itself before they had been ambushed from below, an attack that left two dwarves crippled and a few others wounded. From then on, they had fought a slow retreat, unable to break contact with the shambling crawlers, only their shield-wall and Gwynlyn’s divine magic keeping them from getting overrun and routed. They could have run, but it would have doomed over a third of his troop, something he hadn’t been desperate enough to do when a group of four travelling Adventurers had intervened on their behalf. It was quite satisfying to hear me described as a powerful spellcaster, even if I had used some resources to form that massive cone of cold.

Once that report was finished, Gwynlyn took over, reporting that the swamp was a problem that needed to be solved, soon. Otherwise, it might spread far and wide, poisoning the land the dwarves used for their hunting and to gather wild plants. It gave me the distinct impression that they had some farm-land elsewhere, maybe further up the hills or in some secluded dale, but needed the forest to round out their diet. Gwynlyn suggested that some sort of monster had made its lair in the swamp, or maybe something had awoken there, causing the trouble they were seeing.

Her recommendation to deal with it was to use the group of adventurers as a first measure, giving them time to gather a powerful group of their own, just in case the adventurers, namely my group, failed. From what I could tell, they were mostly pragmatic in their planning, if we managed to deal with their problem, they’d pay us but if not, they’d have won valuable time without effort on their own. It was a win-win situation for them, with us taking the lion’s share of the risk.

Finally, Gwynlyn turned to me, gesturing for me to come forward as she introduced me in the Trade-tongue, the language I had slowly learned from Sigmir and Lenore. I could speak it fluently, thanks to Lenore, but we had planned ahead, knowing that the bond between Lenore and me had been intended to be for just a single year and a day. I had a feeling that we wouldn’t just split at the end of that year, but I had asked them to help me learn the language anyway, just in case.

In this case, I gave a polite, if not particularly servile, greeting, treating him as I would have treated an important client.

“Greetings, Thane Ashenforge. My name is Morgana, a Traveller from a distant realm.” I introduced myself, considering for a moment whether or not I should reveal the connection to the Grandmother, or maybe to the winterwolves. In the end, I decided against it, knowing that Dargira was watching.

“Greetings, Morgana. We have been told that you knew about the trouble in the Deadmire, before even coming near it. How?” he asked, his deep eyes quite penetrating.

“It was noticed, far downstream. I am bound by my word not to reveal by whom, but it hardly matters. It was noticed and I was told about it. That has to suffice.” I explained, knowing that he might take that badly. He just stared at me for a moment, before nodding and mumbling something into his beard.

“I want to hire you and your group to find out what is causing the current surge of trouble in the Deadmire and, if possible, to take care of it. What do you want in return for that service?” he asked, straight out, without beating around the bush. Now, I’d have to name a price, without any indication of the value our service would have. I contemplated for a moment, before answering and decided on my opening gambit.

“I would ask to be given access to read in the library of your hold, to study how your enchanters craft such magical marvels, like the bowl I am looking at. That, of course, assumes that your enchanters wrote down their methods and don’t pass it on, from master to apprentice. In addition, I would ask for a bounty on the undead in the swamp, depending on their individual strength. We simply don’t know how many we will have to fight, how many are in there and how strong they are. I could name a price for that service and both of us wouldn’t know if it is appropriate. I believe in a fair price for a labour, but how to assess that price beforehand, I don’t know.” I laid out, causing the Thane to frown for a moment.

The conditions were quite good and fair, me, reading their tomes wouldn’t cost them anything, unless I was some sort of super-genius who was able to remember everything in a single reading-session. I would obviously cheat, using the recording-function of the capsule to replicate their tomes but the Thane didn’t need to know that. Hopefully, he didn’t know about that. The bounty was similarly fair, if there were only few, weak undead, it would be cheap, if there were many, strong undead, we’d most likely die.

“I see.” the Thane paused for another moment. “Yes, that sounds like a fair deal. You can study our tomes for three days, how much you learn depends on your abilities. If you destroy the cause of the disruption, we’ll give each member of your party a single item, crafted by one of our mastercraftsmen. As for the bounty, do five silver-coins for every shambling crawler sound fair? We can use that as a base-unit and let the system assess how the stronger undead would stack up against the crawlers.” he suggested and a Quest-Window popped open in front of me.

Quest Alert! Investigate the Deadmire Quest Difficulty Hard Thane Ashenforge asks you to investigate the Deadmire, destroy as many undead as you can and maybe even the cause of the corruption. Quest Reward Five silver per Shambling Crawler, proportionally more for stronger Undead Quest Reward Three days unlimited access to the library of Clan Ashenforge Quest Bonus-Reward Bonus, for destroying the cause of the corruption, one item, crafted by the Mastercraftsmen of Clan Ashenforge.

I studied it for a moment, intrigued just how responsive the system seemed to be, before accepting the quest with a nod.