Chapter 188 - Political Ends

The morning after New Year's, the festive energy of the dwarven mines had given way to a hushed tension.

The people were tense, expectant. The votes had been cast, and now everyone waited to hear the results.

Sonder sat at a long, sturdy table in Lunt Senior's home.

The warmth of the fire filled the room, crackling softly in the hearth. Tools lined the walls in neat rows, and Lunt Junior was hammering away at a piece of metal, alone, as his grandfather had been too busy to join him.

Vell lounged in an armchair, feet propped up on a footstool, his robe draped loosely around him. His expression was neutral, though Sonder noticed the slight furrow in his brow. Lunt Senior sat at the head of a nearby table, his posture calm—though it was clearly a mask he forced upon himself.

"They're taking their time," Lunt Junior muttered, pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Should've had the results by now."

Lunt Senior shot him a look, and the boy fell silent. "Patience, lad. These things aren't rushed."

Sonder watched the elder dwarf closely. There was a tightness in his jaw.

He's nervous, she thought.

He was a man who had fought for something he believed in, and now he waited to see how it would end.

The silence stretched until, finally, there was a knock at the door. A dwarven courier entered, their face solemn but respectful, holding a folded parchment. They handed it to Lunt Senior without a word and stepped back, waiting.

Lunt Senior unfolded the paper, his eyes scanning the text. His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he said nothing.

"Well?" Junior asked, unable to contain himself. "What does it say?"

Lunt Senior let out a long exhale, setting the paper on the table. "I lost."

The room fell silent again, the words hanging heavy in the air.

"Thirteen percent of the vote," Lunt Senior continued, his voice steady. "Third place. Not even close to the top two."

"That's still a strong showing," Vell said after a moment. "Thirteen percent for a third party is no small feat."

Lunt Senior nodded slowly. "Aye, you're right. It's the best a third party's done in living memory. But it was always a pipe dream to think I could pull off an upset."

"You ran because it mattered," Vell said, rising from his chair. "Because the system needed challenging. And you've done that. Thirteen percent isn't just a number—it's a message."

The elder dwarf chuckled softly, a dry, humorless sound. "You always were better with words than I was."

"It's true," Sonder said, her voice tentative but earnest. "A lot of people believed in you, and you did your best."

Lunt Senior's gaze softened as he looked at her. "It means more than I can say, lass." He turned his attention back to Vell. "And you—I owe you thanks. I know you didn't have to stay and help me. This whole campaign... it was always a long shot."

Vell inclined his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, we're friends, aren't we?"

Junior, still fidgeting, finally spoke up. "So what happens now?"

"Now," Lunt Senior said, rising to his feet, "we get back to work. The mountain doesn't stop turning just because of politics."

The words carried a finality that settled over the room.

As the courier left and the forge began to hum to life once more, Sonder looked to Vell. He caught her gaze and offered a faint smile, one that carried its own kind of reassurance.