Solari, wake up. We''ve got a job to do."
I jolted awake to find Torglel shaking me by the shoulder, his grin as wide as ever.
I should''ve known something was coming that day.
But at the time, it was just another mission.
Torglel was the kind of dwarf you didn''t forget.
Dark-haired, his long beard woven with bronze clasps, and enough scars to tell a dozen war stories—though he always preferred the funny ones.
His bright blue eyes were sharp, full of mischief, and they always gleamed like he
was daring you to keep up.
He wasn''t just the only dwarf in the Shadow Hand.
He was the best pickpocket we had.
Not that he''d ever admit to being that good.
Torglel liked to play the fool, but anyone who thought he was stupid didn''t live long enough to regret it.
He was also the seventh son of King Tolgarn of Thoringard.
With six heirs ahead of him, he had the freedom the others didn''t.
Freedom to fight. To drink. To live as he pleased.
And when I left Thoringard, he came with me.
Without question.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
That''s the kind of friend he was.
"Telegarani''s waiting," he said, clapping me on the back. "Mission brief."
I groaned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
Telegarani.
Second in command of the Shadow Hand.
A no-nonsense, middle-aged human with steely gray eyes and hair gone mostly silver.
He had patience for almost anything.
Except Torglel.
I dressed quickly and followed him out into the tunnels.
We navigated the labyrinthine hideout in silence.
Even now, I could walk those halls in my sleep.
Every twist and turn is carved into memory.
The meeting room was quiet when we arrived.
Telegarani stood by the map table, arms crossed, as cold and rigid as ever.
"What''s cooking, good looking?" Torglel quipped.
The glare Telegarani gave him could have shattered stone.
"You boys have an assassination to stop," he said, ignoring the dwarf entirely.
"There''s a confirmed attempt on King Tolgarn''s life," Telegarani continued, rolling out a map. "Our intel says it''s happening soon."
I wasn''t surprised.
Such attempts might sound shocking to most, but in Thoringard?
It was practically tradition.
This wasn''t even the first time someone tried to kill Tolgarn.
And it wouldn''t be the last.
"Do we know who hired the assassin?" I asked.
Telegarani shook his head.
"Doesn''t matter. Priority is the king''s life. Stop the assassin. If you can take him alive, that''s a bonus. If not..."
He let the word hang.
I knew what it meant.
Torglel shrugged. "So, when do we leave?"
"As soon as this meeting ends," Telegarani replied. "Gather what you need. Time''s against us."
And just like that, we were dismissed.
Typical Telegarani. Efficient. Cold.
And back then?
I respected him.
We made our way to the armory.
I grabbed my swords—Celerius and Mors.
One black. One white.
Life and death.
A parting gift from Tolgarn before I joined the Shadow Hand.
They weren''t just weapons. They were reminders of where I came from.
My black leather armor fit snugly as I buckled it on.
Throwing knives in hidden slots.
Teleportation runes in a pouch at my hip.
Routine. Efficient.
Torglel strapped on his bronze breastplate, the phoenix engraved across his chest catching the lamplight.
He hefted his onyx hammer over one shoulder and gave me a look.
"Hey, Torglel," I asked as I tightened my gauntlet. "Any idea who wants Dad dead this time?"
He chuckled, shaking his head.
"No idea, honestly."
Then he flashed that grin.
"Hell, for all I know, Mom got tired of his shite and hired the assassin herself."
I snorted, shaking my head.
"That''d be one way to end a marriage."
"Wouldn''t put it past her," Torglel said, fastening his gauntlets with a grin.