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Emma pauses and looks around at everyone, feeling very much out of her element. Trained in the proper dining etiquette for Rinder's nobility, this seems downright scary to her. And, seeing the Dwarves dig their grimy hands into the greasy, charred meat does nothing at all for her appetite. Politely, she pulls back from the table and avoids the Dwarven spirits as well. It wouldn't do to sample the drink and have it cause an even worse problem. Her susceptibility to alcohol has finally become evident to her.

But then the name Paros is spoken and suddenly etiquette seemed the least important issue at stake.

Naeron smirks, but maintains his decor. "It is as I thought," he says to Emma, but loud enough to be overheard. "There is no sense of honor here, only profit. I do not believe I heard the word loyalty anywhere in that nice little speech. Too bad."

Emma looks to Duke Bryant's diplomat, with a stunned expression on her face. The knowledge that the Dwarves had been dealing with Paros, the Duke's advisor, explains a lot. After all, Crayne himself had voiced some misgivings about the man's loyalty and possible connections to the Red Dragon School. 'But then, Naeron doesn't realize that,' she thinks to herself. She exchanges a knowing look with the mage.

Naeron then turns to Storm, "Storm, let the General know that I am a member of the na-Regent's court and a personal advisor. While I detest the method of negotiating they have chosen, that is to wait until our backs are against the wall then threaten to turn traitor... Yes, I said traitor. I do believe that word has been bandied about lately. While I detest such a tactic, certainly adamantite is worth an additional sum. But I would suggest they wait until the war is over, when the coffers will not be dedicated to a full scale war. Do they really think their "other bidder's" price will still be good once the war is over? Caerloon will take not only their metal, but their lives." He shakes his head. He has never been able to deal well with dwarven culture, Storm being such a breath of fresh air.

"Naeron," Emma says, interjecting before Storm can relay the diplomat's harsh words, and hopefully cutting off the Captain's translation as well, "There's more to this than meets the eye.

"Dwarven loyalty is not at question here. That much should be made abundantly clear," she says, looking to Storm so that he will definitely insert that into his translation, "I'm not familiar with such a Pact, but it makes sense to me that something like that would exist. And by law, the mountains, and therefore the adamantine mines within them, belong to the Dwarven clans. They are fully within their right to negotiate a higher price due to the discovery of such a valuable ore. King Bryant's men should understand and honor that, just as you seem willing to do. Why then, I ask...why haven't they done so?

"I think the answer may lie with Paros," she explains, "You've only joined Rinder's Six recently, Naeron, but Crayne and I have already discussed our own misgivings about the King's trusted advisor. We have no proof, but we both fear he might be involved with the Red Dragon School. If such is the case, then he could certainly be among the renegades that support the Caerloon cause."

"na'Regent? What in the blazes be that?" Storm thinks to himself. After Naeron and Emma speak, Storm looks over to Delk. ["Eh...ye be gettin' that, right? The elf be from Raimead an' he know the King an' that Paros feller."] He looks around the table, then leans over close to Delk and Korg together. ["I's seen this Paros meself, and let me tell ye, on me blades and honor he ain't no friend o' ours. Rinder's or our nation. He be a funny type. I's not be surprised if he does be a traitor."]

No sooner does he finish than Naeron responds to Emma's comments: "With all due respect, Priestess, I did not crawl from under a stone yesterday, and I am familiar with the Six's experience with Paros. I am of the same mind of you. But I ask you, what is the greater need right now? More dwarven riches, or freedom from invasion by Caerloon? I will not back down from my words that the dwarves, in this case, act with uncharacteristic underhandedness. Would Anhur settle for kicking someone when he is down? Is that just? I think not. The dwarves should smell a rat like Paros with such timing. They should walk in our shoes now. It is clear that Paros has played one against the other. I am disappointed in their tactics and priorities. I thought better of them..."

Before Emma can even reply, Storm turns a cold glare to Naeron. "Aye, Elf, watch your tongue! While I be with the Six I still be a dwarf. If ye be tellin' them off ye be tellin' me off, an' I's just as quick to forgive as they be! If the Dwarven Nation be doin' somethin', they's got a reason. An' last I be checkin', that reason ain't got nothin' to do with you, Raimead or anybody but us Dwarves. Now ye be more polite, *elf*." He accents the last word to give Naeron a reminder that he isn't among the taller folk right now, and he should act accordingly. Under his breath he adds, staring straight at Naeron's violet eyes. "Don't be sayin' traitor."

Emma's lips tighten into a hard line as she begins to suspect King Bryant's diplomat of being a little hot-headed where Dwarves are concerned. (Storm's hot-headedness, on the other hand, seemed perfectly normal given the dwarf's familiar disposition!) His approach to dealing with the Dwarven patrol leader back at the mountain pass had been a lot more confrontational than when they had faced the Knights of Rinder and Lady Hannah in Seden. And now, his words before Captain Delk and General Korg would do very little to sway the Dwarven attitude to favor his liege. 'Does he want these negotiations to fail?' she wonders to herself.

"Naeron," she finally answers, whispering in a low voice so that the Dwarves won't have an easy time of hearing her words, "The greater need right now is that we maintain some civility before our hosts. You don't come into an armed encampment and try to sway them to your point of view by calling them underhanded for demanding what is rightfully their's, regardless of the timing. And you don't call them flat out stupid for falling to the deceptions of someone like Paros...not if you want them to listen to your words rather than draw steel. Would you ruin all chances of a peaceful settlement in this issue just because you resent the timing of their request?"

Her eyes flash with a hint of anger at her next words because they concern her religion, which the diplomat has uncharacteristically challenged in her mind. But, despite that, she keeps her voice tightly controlled so the Dwarves won't be alarmed. Nonetheless, it is quite evident to Naeron, and the rest of Rinder's Six sitting nearby, that she is quite angry with how the diplomat is presenting himself and representing their cause.

"Anhur does not settle for kicking someone when they are down...," she says, "But he also teaches understanding and forgiveness, Naeron. He isn't about a relentless pursuit for justice at any cost. He would prefer to save lives rather than jeopardize them. The Dwarves have been fooled into taking this action. We should present ourselves so that we open their eyes to the truth, rather than shut them more tightly to our plight because of our foolish pride. It's also quite hypocritical for us to treat them so harshly when our people have been duped not once but twice by the deceptions of Caerloon and her allies. Shouldn't we have smelled the rats as well, diplomat?

"Now come to your senses," she finishes, "The law supports their claim, and although we would like to depend upon their goodwill to support Rinder, they are not obligated to do so. We could very easily lose them completely unless you make some efforts to represent the best interests of your King and country with a clear head. Help us convince them that they've been deceived and that Rinder doesn't hold a grudge against them for that. Only then can we start to discuss a new treaty that includes the adamantine. Griping about underhanded tactics and priorities isn't going to achieve any of that...and in fact, will harden their hearts against us."

Naeron's eyes flash in anger. He whispers in return through clenched teeth. "I have my senses about me. You are apparently missing the point. If the dwarves press their issue at this time, regardless of the source of the misunderstanding, there will be no more Rinder, and there will be no more free Dwarves. You cannot always pussyfoot around. You seem to be of the opinion that there is only one way to do things, only one method of negotiation. I hold respect for your point of view and understand your opinion. I also believe that you are not seeing the whole picture. Do not presume to always have the highest hand. You will one day lose everything you have if you do so."

Emma wants desperately to respond, but can feel this argument sinking deeper and deeper into absurdity...or, to say the least, ill-timing. She bites her lower lip hard, then winces with the pain. So frustrating!

Finally, the priestess turns away obviously in some kind of inner turmoil, but she picks up her cup of Dwarven spirits and takes a sip to try and cover that up. The fiery liquid burns her throat so thoroughly that she coughs and nearly chokes, setting it back down almost immediately. 'Anhur's Scales!' she thinks to herself, 'Why did I do that?!?'

Nareon looks around at the dwarves and at Rinder's Six. He felt the anxiety of their desperate need rushing in through his chest and up the back of his neck. They were running out of time.

He muttered to himself. "The dwarves have never suited me well for company."

Emma looks to Captain Delk and General Korg and says, "I believe you and your people have been tricked. The man that dealt with your emissaries has not done so on behalf of Rinder or Raimead. He denies your attempts to renegotiate because he wants you to sell the ore to a different bidder...the one that he truly serves. My guess is that the men you're now providing the ore to are in service to Caerloon. As a result, not only have the Dwarven clans hindered the army of Rinder in arming itself by withholding the adamantine, but you are now arming our enemies with it instead.

"I assure you, General Korg," she pleads, "The nation of Rinder and the Duchy of Raimead has always been willing to honor the pact between our peoples. A fair price for the adamantine ore makes sense, and King Bryant would surely be willing to pay it, if he only knew of your request. But this Paros has surely been withholding the information from him. Rinder's Six was sent here by another of the King's servants, Sir Nigel, and I can tell you that the King is mystified as to the reasons why you and your clansmen hold these passes against his men. That's why he sent us here. To learn the truth. And now that we know it, Paros' deceit is exposed. And he has deceived not only us, but you as well. Please believe us...the safety of both our peoples depends upon it."

Crayne nods in approvement of Emma's words. He smiles wryly as he hears the name Paros muttered once again. That feeling in his stomach returns. 'He must be Red Dragon,' Crayne thinks to himself. The question which brimmed in Crayne's mind was how many more of these Red Dragon mages were placed high up in the ranks within the kingdom of Rinder. Perhaps this Paros could lead Rinder's Six to others. It was far fetched, Crayne knew, for the Red Dragon mages were skilled in their trades. Nevertheless, Crayne believed that the Rinder's Six were growing too and that anything was possible.

It is then that Crayne speaks up addressing Korgs interpreter, "Emma speaks correctly. It is more than likely that the information has been withheld from the true decision makers. You have every right to renegotiate your price demands when a new precious metal such as adamantine has been found. If you please will permit me to read a copy of the treaty then I will confirm what you say is true. Then if you will provide us with your new terms then we as Rinder's Six will make haste to King Bryant and make sure that these terms reach his hands directly and that Paros is dealt with accordingly."

Emma chats with Naeron for a second after Storm, and Crayne talks to Delk about Paros and the Pact. Storm gives one last glare to Naeron and then listens to what Crayne tells the dwarven emissary. He nods as the mage finishes, adding that the mage is very smart and speaks true. After all is said and done, Storm adds one last thing in dwarven. ["Aye...I be Storm, there ain't be no reason to think otherwise. Now, I's don't know about ye, but I's be thinkin' this action be a little...er...quick. We be talkin' to anyone asides that Paros man in Parton? Why's our king goin' bein' so quick like that? It seems confusin' to this here Strongblade.]

["Speakin's o' that...I's want to find me clan. What the Strongblades be doin'? They's still be where they's always been, or they out blockin' some other road? Can ye tell me somethin'?"] Storm looks gently at the general, a look of sheer worry on his face. He takes another bite of meat, but shows no sign of trickery or insincerity. He calmly awaits the reply of the general.

The general just sits there for a moment, not eating or drinking. His elbows are propped up on the table and his hands are stroking his long beard. He looks askance to Delk, who returns the gaze and appears to shrug. Then the general begins to speak again, with Delk continuing to translate.

"[I will have a copy of the ancient pact made available to you, Crayne, and you will see the Dwarven people are justified in their actions. But...]" his voice trails off as he appears to be choosing his next words.

"[You seem to underestimate us, Emma, priestess of Anhur. We would not deal directly with Caerloon, knowing the precarious position that would put us in. I assure you, our 'other bidder' is a representative of a private enterprise...]"

"...And the good dwarves, being the fine businessmen that they are, know not to ask questions about what my enterprise chooses to do with that ore." The new voice, thin and reedy, yet mature at the same time, rings from behind the bench where the prisoners are sitting. But that voice is also familiar from somewhere.

Canter is first to turn around and he is downright confused when he does. "What?" he whispers in disbelief.

"Who is that?" Karelth asks, sipping from his goblet.

"That," Delk replies, "is our other bidder. His name is Alec."

Crayne's eyes narrow again as he lays his eyes on Alec. No wonder this man's voice seemed so familiar. He adds a few more words of his own to the tense silence. "Also known as...Bernigan."

"Bernigan?!" Emma asks, turning her own head around to meet with the diplomat's stare. "But what does the Duke of Marlond want here? Is he the 'enterprise'?"

"Now, now, priestess," Bernigan/Alec chides, "you would not accuse the dwarves of sewing the seeds of rivalry between two Great Houses of Rinder, would you?" He chuckles, grabbing a goblet from the table. He raises it to his lips, but then pauses, lowering it for a moment. "I would describe my interest in the adamantine ore as a...private venture."

"But where would you get the money to purchase the ore?" Naeron asks, barely controlling his already frustrated temper.

"My friend and comrade," Bernigan/Alec responds calmly, "that is not your concern." His eyes then wander over those at the table. "Are you not missing two? I so dearly wanted to see Hannibal Smith again..."

"Curses!" Cy says, snapping Hannibal out of his trance. "Of all the times..." He grips his sword more tightly and pulls the straps on his armor tight. "I loathe goblins."

"Oh, and I just love em," Hannibal mocks, drawing his own sword in the process. "One, two, three, four...not great odds but better than we've seen of late. Bad thing is, Goblins almost never travel in such small numbers." Hannibal waits impatiently, giving his sword a few twirls in his hand to gain comfort after the long hours of inactivity. "Combat or by our own voice, the Dwarves will know we are here soon enough!"

Then the lead goblin speaks. It is a mess of grunts and gestures with some gurguling thrown in for good measure. Hannibal looks to Cy, who shrugs. "You got that?"

"Nope," Hannibal replies. "This just gets better and better!"

The lead goblin says it again, thrusting his short sword's point at the dusty groudn.

"If he thinks I'm throwing down any weapons, he's got another thing coming," Hannibal say, setting his jaw tightly.

"I hear you there..." Cy responds, tightening his grip on his sword. His eyes following his comrade. Hannibal is slowly sidestepping, moving toward a slightly higher position. But his movements are slow, so as not to upset the goblins...as if they aren't looking for a fight already.

The goblin repeats his demand once more. "I don't think he gets it," Cy says.

Suddenly the lead goblin leaps forward at Cy. Cy whips his sword up in front of his face, meeting with the smelly creature's blade. "But the message is clear now!" Cy says, pushing the goblin away just in time to block an attack by a second monster.

Meanwhile, Hannibal is also suddenly under attack, with his back up against a boulder. One goblin's blade manages to reach his arm, slicing into it with a rusty blade. (3 hp damage) But Hannibal does manage to evade a second goblin's attack.

It is then that Hannibal notices two more, emerging from behind the large boulder the first four came from. "Two more!" he yells to Cy, trying to keep his partner aware of the situation.

"And any second now, we'll have eight dwarves here too..." Cy says, punctuating it with a grunt and a thrust. "...the question is, what will they think of this mess?!"

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