After I return to the guildhall, I order that the whole guild gather to hear me speak. All are to attend, no matter what jobs they are on.

A few short-hours later, they have come. I look over them—arrayed by degree, they are in their best armor, and have their best weapons bared, as ordered.

Those wielding weapons of light I am pleased with: two dozen who are skilled enough to work almergris. Their armor reflects their skill too. It shines with strength. But most of those of sixth degree and below are lacking. Their armor has imperfections that I can see even from up here on the dais. They're hoping to pass the upcoming examinations only by the power of their rune-work—by the power of my runes, not their own strength.

They must improve their mastery of metal. First, however, to tell them the good news:

"I have just returned from the Runethane's castle. He has agreed to reward us for our finding of the orb. And we are to suffer no punishment for what happened to Rostok. It was his own fault."

A cheer goes up.

"I don't know how much the reward will be, but it is likely to be great. I will take from it only what I need for my next craft, then the rest I will give to you."

An even greater cheer goes up. My dwarves' eyes glint at the promise of gold.

"But it will not be distributed evenly! The dragon's share will go only to those who can use it best. This hour I will examine each of your crafts in turn. Those who have forged better in comparison to others of their degree will gain more. Those whose metalwork is comparatively poor, less. A lot less."

There is some muttering at this. I glare at them, and silence falls.

"Some of you have only joined the Runic League because you think my runes will give you an easy path to power. Don't deny it—it's more obvious than you think you let on. But you are mistaken! There are no easy paths to power. My own path, though quicker than most, has still been one of pain and work. I've undergone agony and toil most of you cannot imagine. Thus, in this guild, work will be rewarded, with both gold and runes. The lazy and impatient will get nothing. Do you understand?"

"Answer!" snaps Ithis.

"Yes, guildmaster!" they shout. "Yes!"

"Excellent. You will be called up one at a time and I will examine your crafts personally, just as Guildmaster Wharoth once examined mine. More than just to determine how much gold you'll be given, I must determine who will come down to face the darkness. I won't have anyone weak fighting at my side. Now, Hayhek—organize them."

Hayhek, who I've briefed already on how I want this done, has them march to the rear of the hall out of earshot, then line up in order. One by one, he sends them forth.

Most look nervous as they march toward the high dais from which I stare down with discerning and judgmental eyes. I look over every piece of armor of every dwarf, and every weapon they've brought with them too—amulets of unaging are the only things I leave private. I use a lens to examine the finer runework and details, and I listen closely to hear the tune each piece makes when I tap it. The melodies reveal weaknesses and strengths that cannot be discerned from the sight of surfaces alone.

All in all, my suspicions that my dwarves have been cutting corners are confirmed. Most of the crafts have amateurish defects in them—amateurish as judged against a regular runeknight of their degree, of course. Almost all could easily have been avoided with a little more patience, a little more care. Each imperfection I catch irritates me a little further, and I do not hold back with my criticism—just as Wharoth never held back with his.

"Do you call this a weld? This is a wound!"

"If you can't tell the angles by eye, measure them! No wonder your runic flow has failed."

"Reagent is precious, but wasted if you don't use the proper amount. Don't spread it so thin."

Stolen story; please report.

"You've made your plates so flimsy it's as if you want your head bashed in. Runes won't compensate for poor metalwork. Save up longer for more metal next time."

"You're bold, mangling my runes so badly!"

"I didn't know it was possible to quench something like this—it's like glass it's so brittle! Next time you err like this, start again!"

But there are a few bright spots amidst the gloom of failures, and I give praise where it's due as well, just as Wharoth praised me on the few occasions I managed to impress him.

"Ah, Lekudr—you succeeded with the hytrigite, I see." I run a finger along the runes of his gauntlet. "This is good work. Very good. And you are still tenth degree?"

"Yes, guildmaster. And even so, I am the only one who passed your challenge."

I am impressed. He's a genius with metal, this one, and his poems are well-composed also.

"I think you can aim higher than ninth with this. But it's your decision. If you aim too high, and suffer for it, don't blame me. A runeknight chooses his own path."

"Yes, guildmaster. Runeforger."

Lekudr leaves, then it's on to the initiates. I'm slightly kinder towards them: unlike those who've hopped from other guilds, most of these young ones seem to be striving their hardest to impress me.

Once the inspections are finished, I go to the circular guild office and look over the long roll of names I've written. Besides each is a rune—for strong, gray, or fragile. Those in the first category will be given the greater portion of the gold: three quarters of what remains after I've had my share will be divided between them. Then, three quarters of the remaining will be distributed to those in the second category. What little is left will be given to those in the third.

But gold is not the only reward I'll give the best. Those in the first category who do not yet have weapons of light will be taught how to forge with almergris, if they are willing to take on the risk. This will be regardless of degree—I believe that junior dwarves like Lekudr can handle it if they can maintain care and confidence.

I calculate: out of two and a half hundred dwarves, twenty-four already have weapons of light. If all those I've categorized as strong take on and survive the almergris unscathed, that'll be another thirty-one. Then, there are ten who I categorized as gray who are already working on weapons of light.

Sixty-five runeknights, and then me. A force of sixty-six. How many of the Red Anvil guild have weapons of light? A hundred? Less? How many will join from other guilds? That is a complete unknown. The fifteen of the Guardians Against Darkness will all come, I'm sure, led by Nthazes. They'll be the most powerful part of the force, besides me and Runethane Halmak and his elders.

It will be a greater army than that which Runethane Yurok led. And I mustn't forget Alae and her spell—though I don't really have much confidence in it, if I'm honest with myself. How much power can rain really have? Enough of it might drown the darkness, I suppose, like the water from the orb killed Rostok, but she doesn't have the stamina to maintain her storm for long.

As for the Runeking's emissary, he or she is another complete unknown. Will they even have a weapon of light?

Will these forces be enough? We will see. All I can do, in any case, is wait for my gold, and then return to the forge for what will be the final time before the battle.

The gold comes in three great chests, each requiring four dwarves of the Red Anvil guild to carry it. Shaking from the strain, they lay them down with reluctant reverence before my dais. Their leader, a first-degree elder, gives me a nod—he can't quite bring himself to bow.

"Runethane Halmak thanks you for your services in the exploration of the city," he says. "He wishes me to tell you that the remains have been recovered safely. They are currently being investigated for any clues they might provide pertaining to the sorcerer below's power."

"That is good to know. How much gold is in the chests?"

"Five thousand golden wheels in each."

My eyes go wide. "Fifteen thousand?"

"Yes."

"Relay my greatest thanks to our Runethane, then. I hadn't dare hoped for so great a reward."

"Your guild is to be one of our greatest assets in the battle to come. Regardless of any grudges we hold, this must be recognized if we are to succeed. Especially with the Runeking himself taking an interest in recent affairs."

"I am beyond grateful that the Runethane values us so highly. Truly. Tell him this too."

The first-degree frowns. He does not like being told what to say by a dwarf a degree below him.

"Of course," he says sharply, then he and his dwarves leave.

I walk down to the three chests. The guild members in the hall crowd around. Their eyes are nearly popping from their heads. They've never seen such a quantity before, and neither have I.

I have the chests moved into the circular guild office, then I call on three runeknights I trust most to help me count it out. I am pleased to see that there are no discrepancies: Runethane Halmak has rewarded us with exactly fifteen-thousand golden wheels. They weren't minted here, either—each bears the mark of an Allabrastian metalworks.

Two thousand. That'll be my share, I decide. I have it counted out and divided into sacks. The rest I order that Ithis should distribute according to my earlier calculations—three quarters to the best, and so on, with allowances given for degree. The exact financial mathematics I leave to him.

One tour of the forging district later, trailed by twenty of my dwarves to transport the great quantities of titanium I purchase, and I'm back down in the forge.

To finish my armor first, and then—

My glaive of light.

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