The Cat and the Dwarf

With a nod of grim determination, Dwalin stood up and made his way to the door. It was best to get this done immediately, before he lost his nerve. He descended the stairs into the inn's main hall, which was quieter now as the evening wore on. A few shadowy figures nursed their drinks in corner booths, their faces obscured, but the room was dominated by a heavy, watchful silence. At the bar, just as he always was, sat Ash.

The one-eyed cat appeared to be napping, a perfect picture of tranquility amidst the inn's tense atmosphere. Dwalin cleared his throat as he approached. "Hey, Ash," he said, keeping his voice low. "A question for you. Can The Gilded Thorn help me convert some forging materials into gold coin?"

Ash's single, golden eye slit open. The cat let out a massive yawn, stretching its lithe body with a lazy grace that rippled from nose to tail. "Dwalin," it finally purred, its voice a dry rasp. "As long as the materials have value, we can appraise them and make you an offer in coin." It began to groom a paw, then paused, its eye fixing on him with unnerving intelligence. "But you've never cared for coin. You're one of the few who still prefers the honesty of barter. Why the sudden change of heart?"

A bead of sweat trickled down Dwalin's temple. The cat's casual question was laced with steel. 'Blast it all,' he thought, his mind racing for a convincing lie. 'Never trust a cat, especially not one that runs an establishment like this.' He forced a weary sigh, hoping it sounded authentic.

"Right," he began, rubbing the back of his neck. "I offered a trade, as usual. But my client is a stubborn one, insists on gold and nothing else." He shook his head in feigned disappointment. "Unfortunately for me, the materials he has are… exceptional. A once-in-a-lifetime find for my forge. So, I have to let go of some of my own stock to raise the coin."

"Alright, alright," Ash interjected, flicking an ear in clear boredom. "Spare me the long-winded tale of a dwarf's business woes. I was merely curious. You know how we cats are."

Dwalin's internal sigh of relief was so profound he felt his shoulders physically relax. "Heh, sorry about that. Just a bit antsy to close this deal, is all."

"Fine. Bring the materials down. I'll have our appraiser look them over and give you our offer," Ash said, already looking ready for another nap.

"Great! Let me go get them," Dwalin said, turning to leave. He took two steps toward the stairs before freezing. He'd almost forgotten the entire point of this exercise. He slowly walked back to the bar, feeling foolish.

"Ash," he said, his voice even lower this time. "I almost forgot. There is… one other piece of business."

Ash's eye opened again, a silent, impatient question.

"I trust the materials I'm exchanging will fetch a handsome price," Dwalin said carefully. "I'd like to use some of those funds to purchase information. Specifically, on the Vareth Dominion."

The cat's gaze sharpened, its boredom vanishing instantly. It stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment, and Dwalin felt the urge to start explaining, to babble on with another lie. But he held his tongue, remembering Ash's earlier reaction. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.

Finally, Ash spoke. "That can be arranged. However, a kingdom is a broad topic. You'll need to be specific, lest you empty your coin purse on useless trivia."

"Yes, of course," Dwalin said quickly, feeling a surge of relief. "I only need information vital to deciding if one might… relocate there. I've been thinking of opening a second shop, somewhere closer to Khaz'Zorak than this remote outpost."

Ash seemed to consider this, its tail giving a slow, thoughtful flick. "A weapons and armor smith in the Vareth Dominion," it mused. "Given their current turmoil, the demand for quality steel would be… significant. A plausible venture."

The cat had bought it. "Very well, dwarf. I will compile a relevant dossier while our appraiser is valuing your materials. Now go, get them, so we can begin."

"Right away," Dwalin said, turning and quickly making his way back to the room, not wanting to give the cat any more time to think.

Creak...

As Silak heard the door open, he knew Dwalin had returned. He stood up from his meditative posture, his expression anxious. "How did it go, Mister Dwalin?"

Dwalin closed the door behind him, a wide, triumphant grin splitting his beard. "We did it, lad! They're on board with both requests."

"Let me get the materials downstairs so their appraiser can get started," he said, moving to an open space on the floor. He unfastened his spatial satchel and began pulling out various ores, beast cores, and rare woods. Most of it was inventory he'd traded from other clients, items he deemed less valuable than the pristine materials Silak had provided. He'd prefer to keep Silak's gifts for his own forge, but if the value wasn't enough, he knew he'd have to part with some of them.

While Dwalin sorted through the growing pile, Silak watched with intense curiosity. He noted that the dwarf's spatial satchel seemed worn, and by the look of it, was a lower-tier model compared to the ones the tribe's Elders possessed. A thought sparked in his mind, a realization of a critical need.

'I must get one for myself,' Silak decided with sudden clarity. The sheer volume of resources in Senior Gahumdagat's cave was staggering. Transporting it all with common sacks would take months, if not years, of back-and-forth trips. A spatial satchel would turn an impossible logistical nightmare into a simple task. It was a tool that could directly accelerate his path to power.

"Mister Dwalin," Silak asked, his voice pulling the dwarf from his work. "I am curious. Are you capable of forging spatial satchels yourself?"