The ride back had given Henry enough time to organize the debrief in his head, which was good, because Hedrin had the meeting called before they’d even finished unloading.
Everyone was already present when Henry walked in – Hedrin, Drunn, Tormund, Elara, and Jurgon, plus Lucan’s group spreading out along the far side.
Henry walked them through it from the top. The convoy ambush came first – composition, escort strength, cargo manifest, how it went down. He kept it factual and sequential, the way he would’ve written an after-action report. Then came Korth Varren and the site exploitation they’d done.
“There’s still a good amount of cargo at the ambush site and at Korth Varren,” Henry wrapped up. “We just didn’t have the room to take it all. I’ve got the location marked if you want to send people out for the rest.”
Hedrin gestured to an aide near the door. “See a salvage party assembled, an’ have ’em on the road at first light. I’ll want their report before the day’s done.”
He turned back to Henry. “As for what’s owed ye – the bounty’s ready an’ can be claimed straightaway. The salvage share’ll take longer, once our folk have weighed the haul. Ye can collect the two parts as they come, or take the lot together when the reckonin’s finished. See the front desk as ye please.”
Henry nodded.
Drunn leaned forward. “Aye, an’ I’ll see the Council puts its own mark beside it. A goblin hold brought to rubble wi’out so much as a scratch on our side; there’s few livin’ that can speak o’ such a thing.”
He hesitated, the admiration tugging at him in spite of himself. “Tell me, then – how long did it take ye to pull the whole business off?”
Henry wasn’t sure whether Drunn meant the fighting or the whole operation, so he answered both. “The actual combat was over in minutes – the convoy ambush and the bombing were pretty much done before anyone on the ground knew what was happening. Most of the time was spent afterward, searching through the rubble and cataloguing what we found. That part took the better part of a day.”
Drunn’s eyes lit up. “Minutes? Ye brought a whole fortress down in mere minutes?” He reined himself in, sitting straight. “Ahem – right, then. A grim loss o’ a stout keep, no doubt. Yet considerin’ how the greenskins had befouled it, I can scarce call its breakin’ aught but a mercy to the stone.”
“Aye… well spoken, Drunn. The stone’s loss is noted.” Hedrin turned back to the matter at hand. “Now then, let us speak to what the fortress yielded. Captain, ye mentioned materials o’ consequence?”
“Rune system documentation and fabrication components,” Henry said. “Lady Maren can show you.”
Maren stepped forward and laid out the samples they’d gathered – orichalcum wire, mana crystals, and a few pages of the technical documentation. The quality of the materials earned a few raised eyebrows around the table, which was fair; this wasn’t the kind of equipment goblins sourced on their own.
“There’s more in our Holding Carts. We collected everything we could find, but there’s almost certainly more buried under the rubble,” Henry said. “What we recovered is enough to build a Tier Eight rune system, and that’s just what was accessible. If we assume there’s more in the collapsed sections, and that Velkrath has its own stockpile, the actual volume should be significantly higher.”
Hedrin studied the orichalcum wire for a moment, turning it over in his hands. “Aye, this is no goblin work. An’ the documentation – no trace o’ Nobian craft?”
“Nothing, unfortunately.”
Tormund sighed. “In that case, we have no avenue of negotiation left to us; and truthfully, the Nobians have given no sign they would receive an envoy even were we inclined to send one.”
Hedrin set the wire down. “What else did ye find?”
Henry brought out the map.
“We pulled this from what was left of the main compound,” he said, spreading it across the table. “Detailed rendering of the Ovinne Mountains. Multiple positions marked, with approach routes converging here – Vendrukt Peak. We believe that’s the Elemental Dragon’s lair.”
The room went quiet for a few seconds while everyone took it in. Henry gave them the time.
Hedrin studied it for a moment, then laughed. “Were the circumstances different, I’d almost offer the Nobians my thanks. They’ve spared us a fair bit o’ scoutin’, for all their ill intent.”
“I don’t think scouting is all they had in mind,” Henry said. “My team’s assessment is that the Nobians are building toward subjugating the Dragon. The goblins, the supply lines, the rune materials – it’s all infrastructure for that.”
Lucan let out a slow, irritable breath. “I had thought we put this nonsense to rest upon the mountain, Captain. Yet since you insist on exhuming it, allow me to speak more plainly than courtesy allowed before.”
He surveyed the room with the impatience of a petty tyrant, confirming that he held everyone’s attention. “Hear me well: the Nobians might heap together every rune, every relic, every scrap of lore their tottering empire can muster, and they would sooner bid the sea stand still than bring an Elemental Dragon to heel. That such driveling fancy should be granted voice in a council of sane folk – that is the part I find astonishing!”
Henry wasn’t going to sit there and argue magical theory with a Tier Nine adventurer in front of a room full of people who’d side with the expert. That was a losing play no matter how right he was, and the fastest way to make sure nobody in Kharvûk took the Nobian threat seriously was to let himself get cast as the foolish outsider.
But he wasn’t going to let Lucan’s little performance stand unanswered, either. Part of it was practical – if the room walked away thinking the Dragon had nothing to do with the Nobian problem, that was a bad outcome. Mostly, though, was he just gonna sit there and take it? Fuck no.
“Whether they can actually pull it off is beside the point,” Henry said. “So what if their subjugation runes don’t work? If they piss that thing off and point it in our direction, that’s just as good for them as controlling it. We’d have to deal with the fallout either way.”
Drunn’s fist came down on the table – not hard enough to be dramatic, but hard enough that nobody missed it. “Just so, and ‘tis the very reason we ought to be drivin’ on Velkrath without delay. Every day we give ’em is another chance for the Nobians to spring some fresh devilry, an’ I’ve no mind to sit waitin’ for whatever trick they’ve kept in reserve.”
Hedrin gave him a tired look. “Commander, we trod this ground already. A straight blow at Velkrath would cost us more blood than we dare spare – and that was afore we learned the full measure o’ the army sittin’ in its walls.”
Drunn’s reply came sharp as a struck anvil. “Aye, an’ tell me this: how many more d’ye reckon we’ll forfeit if we sit on our hands while the Nobians finish whatever devilry they’re hammerin’ together? Shall we wait till it’s turned against us?”
Henry could’ve offered a much simpler course of action. His resolution? Air strikes. Bomb them, keep bombing them, bomb them again and again. But it wasn’t as though the Council would ever agree to that, especially not with the mining and forging infrastructure at stake.
Starving them out through a siege was the next best option, but that took time – and time was exactly what the Nobians were using.
Well, whatever the case, this wasn’t the moment to hash out a full campaign plan. They hadn’t even finished processing the intelligence from this mission, not to mention everything else that needed to be done before an assault.
Hedrin apparently reached the same conclusion. “Commander, none here bids ye stand idle. But we’ve a convoy’s worth o’ goods yet to reclaim, a fortress still half-lost beneath its own stone, an’ a body o’ intelligence that needs a sober readin’ afore we spend lives on guesswork. So this I’ll put to the table: let us contain Velkrath for the present an’ grant the Captain’s findings the time they warrant.”
Drunn opened his mouth to speak, but Hedrin continued before he could even get a word out.
“In the meantime, ye’ve ground enough now to lay a request before Enstadt for further strength. The hint o’ Nobian meddlin’ should by itself stir their council, an’ if their own examiners come to the conclusions we’ve drawn here, I reckon ye’ll find ’em readier to part wi’ men than they were a week past.”
Drunn wasn’t happy about it, but he wasn’t stupid either. He accepted Hedrin’s reasoning with a stiff nod.
“Then we’re agreed.” Hedrin turned to Henry. “Captain Donnager – yer chartin’ alone justifies the whole venture, an’ the Guild’ll mark it well. And tell me, would ye be able to furnish us a second copy for the archives? If yer craft allows it, we’d be glad to have one.”
Henry nodded. “Yeah, we can do that.”
“Right, then – that’s the lot. We’ll gather again once there’s more to weigh. Off wi’ ye, and take yer rest.”
Henry gathered his materials and headed downstairs with his team.
The front desk was manned by a lanky dwarf with glasses – yeah, apparently that existed – who went by Odrell, according to the nameplate. He looked up as they approached, setting aside whatever he’d been working on.
“Good evenin’. What can I do for ye?”
“Captain Donnager, Alpha Team,” Henry said. “We’re here to collect on the goblin convoy quest.”
Odrell pulled a ledger from beneath the counter and ran a finger down the page. “Korth Varren… aye, here we are. Bounty an’ field assessment combined – one million lumens, split even between yer party an’ Lucan’s Chosen.” He looked up. “That’s five hundred thousand to yer side. The salvage share’s still pendin’, so ye’ll need to come back for that bit. How would ye like the five hundred?”
Henry glanced at Sera. “Do you need anything? Like, potions, or something?”
She thought about it for a moment, then looked over at Ron. “I can think of nothing pressing. Perhaps provisions?”
Ron shook his head. “Nah, we chillin’. Still got a full pantry.”
In that case, half a million lumens they weren’t going to spend was half a million lumens better off in storage. Henry turned back to the clerk. “I think we’ll have it deposited, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” Odrell made the entry, stamped the ledger, and slid a receipt across the counter. “All settled. Anything else I can help ye with?”
“That’s everything. Thanks.”
Henry pocketed the receipt and headed for the inn.
Once they were settled, he hit up Chippy at Armstrong TOC. From there it was the usual waiting game – getting bounced up the chain until he finally got patched through to General Harding.
“Captain Donnager.”
“Evening, sir.”
“So what’ve you got for me?”
Henry gave the General a slightly more detailed report than the one he’d given the Guild – same events, but with all the nitty-gritty that Harding loved. When he got to the Nobian assessment, he didn’t sugarcoat it.
“We’re pretty sure the Nobians are building toward an attempt on the Elemental Dragon. They’ve been working their way up the chain ever since Hardale, and now they’ve got a Goblin King under their thumb. Tier Nine outta Ten. Problem is, we’ve got a Tier Nine adventurer on the team who called the whole idea ridiculous in front of the Guild leadership, and after that, nobody wanted to touch it.”
“Yeah, every briefing’s got one of those. How bad?”
“Bad enough that I had to reframe the whole thing around risk just to keep it alive. And even then, the Guild can’t really do anything about it. Best case, they kick it up to Ovinnegard’s government.”
“So it gets there sometime around never.” He let out a breath. “I’ve been doing the interagency dance longer than you’ve been alive, Captain. At least your people over there have an excuse – they’re medieval.”
Harding’s chair creaked through the audio. “Alright. I’m sending Sinclair and her team your way. She’ll sit down with the Guild, go through the rune documentation, the maps, all of it. Your Tier Nine fella wants to play expert, let him try it with somebody who can push back.”
“That’d help. The technical side is way beyond what we can do in the field.”
“That’s what specialists are for, Captain.” Something shuffled on Harding’s end. “Now, while Sinclair’s picking through your goblin arts-and-crafts project, I’ve got something a little more fun for you. Lab coats finally cracked the enchantment problem on the M7s with the help of your Forgemaster, and they’ve got the propellant chemistry sorted. Multiple compositions – different ratios of the nitric acid and the treant cellulose. Low end turns your 6.8 into something that hits more like a .300 Winchester. Nothing dramatic, but you’ll notice.”
“What about the upper range?”
“Mid-tier puts something close to a Browning through an M7 frame. Fairly ridiculous. Like one of those Warhammer bolters, if that means anything to you.”
Henry liked Harding even more now. “It does, sir.”
“Thought it might. High end goes further – anti-materiel energy. Past Barrett range. And that one’ll break your shoulder if you’re not wearing an envirosuit. Your elf lady could probably manage it fine, but the rest of you are mortal and I’d like to keep you that way.”
“Good to know, sir.”
“Oh, and it gets better. I had to cut off healing potions from the R&D boys because they kept juicing themselves up and heading right back to the range. Only way to get them to stop was to make them sit in the infirmary and heal up the old-fashioned way, like God intended. Couple weeks in a sling did what common sense couldn’t.”
Henry laughed at that.
“So if the high-end rounds pan out, we’ll look at putting together some proper exosuits to handle the recoil, and consider messing around with munitions for vehicles. But that’s down the road. For now, start at the bottom and work your way up. And I don’t want anyone touching the hot stuff without a suit on.”
“Got it. When’s Sinclair getting here?”
“Couple days. She’ll bring the goods with her. Until then, you’re on rest and refit. Try not to get too excited for the test run. Harding out.”