The mass of refugees moved through the gap, heading towards the Outpost by the lake. Delire stood with Jeria and watched the weary trudge of the tired, worn out, ragged refugees. Many of the wealthier citizens struggled with bruised, bloodied feet, fancy boots and shoes falling apart under constant use, the sturdier work boots of the working classes lasting, and protecting them, better. For once the workers benefitting from their poverty. Delire gestured to Jeria and they moved forward, and once again they left the column of people and wagons behind.

Delire noted happily, that the path down to the lake was an easy one, the refugees would appreciate the water smoothed rock, worn enough that it was no longer slippery but containing no major obstacles. The trip took the two of them two days, the massive caverns walls fading from sight. When they reached the Outpost, they were amazed at the activity. Scores of masons and builders were building an outer wall and lines of carts bearing food were coming in; large tents were blooming near the lake, creating a city of their own.

They wandered nearer and sharp-eyed sentries spotted them as they neared and sent horse mounted troops out to meet them. The troops arrived quickly with two spare horses in tow.

"Word of your expected arrival was sent. Welcome." They were helped onto the horses, the seasoned horsemen around them steadying them and helping them to remain mounted as they cantered towards the city. After but a short distance, Delire was quickly dismounted and placed in front of another rider to share a horse. Her short stature left her unable to gain a decent grip on the massive beast. At the city, a man stood, his armour of a finer quality than his men's, a sword with a jewelled pommel at his waist.

"Welcome, Delire and Jeria. Our advance units reported your journey and we have prepared as best we could. Come, there is much to talk about and you will need water and food after your long trip." The man led them through the outpost, into the main keep and a large office. One of the Dark Paeons sat behind a large desk, rising as Delire and Jeria entered. He was tall for his kind, wearing long, flowing, grey robes with a badge in the shape of a harp over his left breast.

"Greetings unto you; May the music of the Gods flower in your ears. You are welcomed to Lake Harmony. I am Master Darid, the commander of the keep and of those that dwell within. Let us retire to my private dining area so you may refresh yourselves and rest weary legs. I will tell you what is proposed and the message I would like you to convey to your people."

Darid bowed, stepped forward and opened a door set into the far wall, leading them into a smaller room, containing little but a table carved from some dark wood, its surface filigreed with lines of an unusual purple rock. He took a seat at the head of the table and gestured for Delire to take the place of honour to his left. Everyone seated himself, or herself, and servants dressed in the grey livery matching that of Darid’s colours quickly brought in food. No conversation began, Darid remained silent until all had food and had started to eat.

"The destruction of your city is known to us. We mourn its loss, deeply. The actions of Weald Hall created a symphony that was enjoyed by all. You and your fellow travellers are welcome to rest in our care, but in these unfortunate events I see an opportunity." He hesitated, trying to mask the excitement he obviously felt might manifest, and would be inappropriate in front of those that had been dispossessed and suffered a grievous loss.

"This cavern is large; there is space here to build a city larger and better protected than Weald Hall. In time, we could grow to be one of the most powerful and prosperous cities within the network that is the reality of our life underground. The lake supplies fish and ample drinking water for a multitude. The area is a crossroads, though only three paths lead into the cavern, multiple areas joins into those three paths and trade will automatically arrive and help to build up the city." He looked at the two Outwalkers, trying to gauge their reaction. Both sat there, evidently interested but neither looked like they were completely enamoured with his idea.

"Here is what we propose. We will take all your people in as citizens. Help to build them homes, make sure they receive food, provide them with clothes and integrate them into our community. In return we will receive the expertise and wealth of experience for which Weald Hall was renowned; a corps of Outwalkers that was famous, fiend hunters that guarded your gates and kept the immediate area secure and alchemists who knew the secret of cold iron and produced enough of it that no gate guard was armed without it." Darid leaned back, hoping he had sold the two on his idea.

Delire looked at Jeria and then pulled herself forward, a smile on her face. "Who is going to rule? You, Master Harpist? Forgive me for being blunt, but your race is not known for its love of others, and its rulers are noted more for their cruelty than their love of sharing power. You have been most gracious, and your offer is more than fair, but the reputation of your kind makes me reluctant to place our future within your hands. Indeed, this is not my decision to make, you should have made it to those who have authority."

If Delire had expected anything, it was not laughter. The Master Harpist's laughter was clear, musical and accompanied by a smile.

"I appreciate your candour, Delire. Indeed, my race is, as you said, noted more for its cruelty than its altruism. Truly, our reputation often does us justice, too many of our kind are adept at cruelty and vain enough to believe that all others are beneath them. That is not so for those within this outpost. We are outcasts amongst our own, worshippers of the wind, the whistle and music of its passage. We share much with our brethren, but not their worship of the dark Gods and their love of cruelty, nor their disdain for others. In the past, our brethren would have destroyed us without compunction, used us as sacrifices upon their altars, and as commodities to be traded with those that rule above. Time and necessity have changed them. They no longer hunt and destroy outcasts like ourselves but use us to expand their territory. Small outposts like this are given the bare necessities to survive. If we make it, they will use us as a conduit to other races, a means of facilitating trade and dialogue, knowing that few will trade with them and none will enter their cities."

He sipped at the goblet of white wine before him. "As for presenting this to those that have authority, you evidently have not taken in the state of your refugees. How many of your previous councillors and ministers retain any power? Without their wealth and their holdings, how many of them will be able to muster any respect? No, Delire. It is you, the heads of the guards that protect the refugees, the who controls the food when people hunger is the one that wield the power. If you speak, they will listen."

The three continued their meal, conversation drifting from the serious to the mundane. At the end, Delire and Jeria left, happy with what was to come and bearing an invitation to a new future and the chance to be part of something new; not just refugees assigned to the slums of Gunder's Hall.