Dwarven legend holds that they have been on this plane since the beginning. When the plane’s crafters came together to forge the world, they left behind the dwarves to give their work meaning. Through their love of exploring, mining, crafting, and fighting… they were inextricably tied to this material realm.

  It was a universally accepted belief that dwarves lived for the challenges the world constantly put in front of them. Whether it was a previously unknown ore that needed to be rigorously experimented on to unlock its secrets or one of the inevitable disasters that appeared from the dark below, they faced what came with unrivaled enthusiasm. In fact, they did everything with enthusiasm.

  To other races, the dwarves seemed impulsive, even brash. But that was just because they were very much like the ground that they lived in. They were stubborn and set in their ways. It took a great deal of effort to get them to change their minds, or do something they didn’t want to. Wherever they chose to point themselves, they went headlong into that direction as if it were their only choice.

  When they drank… they drank. When they held a grudge, even their grandchildren would remember who’d wronged them. And when they pledged their support… it was eternal. So, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone that after Mavros Milthrilspike declared his support of House Walker’s vendetta against the kobalds under the mountain, he fully intended to follow through with it.

  With his arms crossed over his chest, he glared up at the surrounding nobles, barely listening to what they were saying. He could tell that they were nervous about something or another, but humans were always making a big deal out of nothing.

  Cutting off the conversation harshly, Mavos declared, “None of that matters now. You say the lad owns the mountain you intended to give us. That’s fine. It will be him that I’ll be speaking to, not any of you! I can tell just by listening to him that he won’t be trying to sell me a cracked hammer. You lot need to get your heads out of your asses and learn how to speak plainly if you want to have relations with my clan in the future. We Mithrilspikes don’t do politics. We’re honest dwarves and when we offer someone something, you can bet your pale shaven asses that it's ours to offer!”

  Stomping away, Mavros ignored the insulted sputterings of the nobles behind him. ‘Useless human wastes of essence,’ he thought to himself.

  Behind him, he could feel the boots of his fellow dwarves following him. From just over his shoulder on his right, he heard Ironwick ask gruffly, “So, you intend to end our agreement with the human king and speak directly with this Walker? I’m not sure that he has the authority to even sell you his mountain. After all, it is within the human king’s kingdom.”

  Waving his hand as if Ironwick’s concerns were irrelevant, Mavros replied, “It doesn’t matter. The king’s lackeys tried to offer us a mountain they didn’t own. I’m not going to wait for them to bargain with the lad. It’s a waste of time we don’t have. We need to get my clan working as soon as possible. Otherwise, we might end up relying on the humans to clear out the kobalds. I’m not willing to start off our new relationship with us in their debt. I’d much rather have them owing us. Besides, you heard the young human’s speech. He’s not the type to waste time speaking nonsense.”

  From the other side of Mavros, his advisor, Noxie Crusher spoke up, “The council of kings made the deal with the human king, not us. I don’t think anyone here has even read the damn thing. Who knows what kind of bureaucratic nightmare they’ll be dealing with after this cock-up.”

  Practically growling, Mavros muttered loudly, “Titan-shit bastards had the gall to sell us a mountain they didn’t even own! They expect us to just wait for them to get their tools in order?!? I’ve half a mind to take my axe to the lot of them and return to their capital for an explanation!”

  The dwarves behind him, having overheard the conversation started muttering their agreement while offering their own inventive suggestions on how best to end the scheming humans.

  Speaking awkwardly, as though he wasn’t used to being the one to calm anyone down, Ironwick replied, “I don’t know about all that. We should probably just send word to the council of kings and see what they want us to do. By the way… do you even know where you’re going?”

  The entire group stumbled into each other behind Mavros Mithrilstirke as he came to an abrupt halt. Looking around, he saw that he’d led them into a large hallway filled with closed doors. The artwork on the walls was all very human and ‘pretty’. Turning his head back and forth awkwardly as he glanced up and down the hallway, Mavros muttered, “There’s supposed to be a reception room or something where we’ll be able to meet with the lad after he’s done accepting people into his clan… or his house… or whatever they call it.”

  Ironwick replied sarcastically, “Yeah, I remember. I was there when that lass told you. But do you know where it is? Or were you just storming off to make a statement?”

  Rounding on Ironwick, Mavros raised his voice loud enough to shake one of the ornate vases along the walls off its stand, “Don’t you be sassing me, you thin-bearded bastard! I just got turned around is all. I know where I’m going!”

  Chuckling, Crusher replied, “Sure you do, but on the off chance that you don’t, maybe we can just ask one of the humans hiding behind the fancy wall rugs.”

  As a group, the dwarves turned in unison to look at where Crusher was pointing. They could see several human servants trying and failing to hide behind a tapestry while the dwarves took up a majority of the hallway.

  Mavros raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise as he couldn’t understand what the tall, bony unarmored humans were so afraid of.

  Before he had a chance to ask them, he heard a strong voice from behind his group say, “King Mithrilstrike, I believe I can show you to the reception hall if that’s where you were headed.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Mavros glared at the head of the human guards who’d been trailing his little group. “Yes. That’ll be fine I suppose,” he agreed, his tone indicating that he was somewhat unhappy having to accept the guard’s help.

  Shoving his way back through the dwarves he’d just been leading, he glared up at the human and asked, “How long is this oath-giving ceremony supposed to last? When can I expect to meet with Lord Walker?”

  Leading the group back the way they came, the guard replied, “Several hours, King Mithrilstrike. After which Lord Walker is expected to receive his guests in the grand ballroom. At that time, I’m sure you’ll be able to find a moment to speak with him, or at least schedule an appointment with his house’s manager.”

  Grumbling loudly about stupid, pointless human rituals, Mavros stomped down the hallway back the way he came. Behind him, the other dwarves followed in a loose formation, looking more like a war party than guests at a fancy function.

  —--

  While at first, Nero was happy to find that according to the schedule, his main responsibility was to look as ‘lordly’ as possible, sit on the fancy-ass throne, and ‘oversee’ the ceremony, but after the first 20 minutes, he felt like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. Seeing groups of people declaring their undying loyalty to him one after another was way more exhausting than he’d thought it would be.

  As his house’s manager and battle leader, Cathleen Averett was basically running the show. She was the one calling out names while doling out subtle gestures to keep everything moving. With her professional demeanor and formal robes, she currently looked nothing like the warrior woman he was used to seeing her as.

  While she acted as the master of ceremonies, Vera Salvatore-Verena was handling everything in the background. She along with her husband, the newly titled Lord Nicholas Salvatore-Verena, had been the first up to declare their loyalty to his house, the newly formed House Walker. As his first friends, it was an extremely uncomfortable moment for him to see them bowing and declaring their subservience.

  Yet, he understood the need. As a ‘unique’, his house was basically above the local houses. Or more accurately, by law, he wasn’t allowed to have a local presence. To get around that annoying fact, Vera had arranged for his local assets to be brought under the umbrella of Nick’s house, House Verena. So, in a way, he’d flat-out bought their loyalty. As his newly dubbed under-house, they were beholden to him. Even if it was only on paper, this arrangement would allow him to continue to receive his profits from the assets he had in Dorchester. From here on in, he’d be getting his cut while not having to do anything… not that he’d been doing all that much with the businesses to begin with.

  Vera had been the one with the business sense, and she was the one who’d been practically running his life up to this point. Even now, she was the one who’d arranged for the ceremony they were holding. She was also the one who’d hired the servants, recruited his followers, invited the nobles, and arranged for the caterers. Hell, the only reason he knew where he was supposed to be sitting was because Vera had taken the time to write out a detailed event schedule from his perspective.

  ‘I’m really going to miss having her around when I eventually leave Dorchester,’ he noted to himself before shaking off the troubling thought.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Mentally returning to the moment at hand, Nero tried to keep his expression as dignified as possible while he listened to the most recent group’s life oath.

  Cathleen’s voice filled the hall well, her tone as serious as he’d ever heard her, “Do you agree to give up your citizenship, savings, and responsibilities to serve House Walker, faithfully following its lord wherever he shall lead?”

  In unison, the kneeling group of men and women replied, “We do!”

  “Do you agree to forever join your path with his, letting him lead while you follow?” she asked.

  “We do!” they replied fervently.

  Nero stifled the grimace he felt at their devotion, not remotely understanding how they could give up their families, their money… their LIVES just to serve him. Conceptually, he understood the concept of fealty and whatnot. However, he’d never thought he’d actually be witnessing someone agreeing to it, let alone with the intention of following a guy like him!

  Cathleen continued on like a doctor informing a patient of the danger they were agreeing to. She asked them if they were sure about all kinds of ridiculous things, like putting his life before theirs, and even the needs of House Walker before their own. Their future earnings would be his to claim, and their livelihoods would be his to decide. It sounded like the absolutely dumbest bargain he’d ever heard, and he could barely contain his moral outrage at hearing them wholeheartedly agreeing to it.

  Yet, he said nothing, because what was there to say? He’d already made it clear who he was and what he intended to do. They knew what they were signing up for. It was their society that was screwed up. In the end, it had very little to do with him. ‘Other than me being the guy sitting in the big-ass chair and accepting their eternal servitude,’ he noted to himself sarcastically.

  The only good thing about how long it was taking was that he still had access to his link. Using it to connect to the Dorchester Thought Hub, he was able to peruse the city’s version of the internet. Now that he’d gotten used to how it worked, he was able to find a lot of the answers to the questions that he currently had.

  For one, he hadn’t understood why there were so many different versions of the oaths he was hearing. When he’d first heard about the ceremony, he’d had Nick try to explain to him how the different levels of followers worked, but it had gone through one ear and out the other like most of the nonsense the man usually prattled on and on about. But now, with the Thought Hub, he was able to look it up himself.

  The Thought Hub was surprisingly easy to navigate once he’d allowed his mind to sink deeper into it. All it took was for him to send out his intention, and the system filtered the relevant information for him. The only difficult part about it was that he had to maintain the calm and lordly look on his face while his brain was busy surfing the Thought Hub.

  Luckily, he had plenty of time as the ceremony was being done in small groups of ten people at most. Literally, everyone who would be associated with House Walker had their turn.

  Although they would all technically be associated with House Walker, there were many categories.

  The household staff who would be maintaining the Walker Estate were labeled as ‘servants’. Their oaths were limited to keeping House Walker’s secrets and loyally doing their duties as long as they worked for him. Only a few of the higher ranks needed oaths of any greater significance. And none of them were going to be going with him after he left the city. Basically, the servants were just like hired staff who were responsible for maintaining his estate.

  Above them came the ‘adherents’ who were required to take seriously restrictive oaths of service. They tied their futures to House Walker under the penalty of losing everything they gained while working for him. While they still had their private lives and previous savings, as long as they were under House Walker’s banner, everything they did would be pooled in a fund for his benefit. As such, they would have their expenses covered by House Walker, and their private assets frozen. While not necessarily a lifetime commitment, it was still pretty harsh as far as Nero could tell. In many ways, he thought it sounded like signing up for military service… but without a paycheck.

  Then came the ‘followers’ who would be associated with House Walker but not directly under him. Nick and Vera were in this category. Their house, House Verena, would be in charge of them. They were people who, while still part of House Walker, would only be representatives of his interests. Their oaths were both to House Walker and to a lesser extent House Verena. They would be the backbone of his Dorchester faction. According to the files he looked up, they were mostly accountants, lawyers, business leaders, and middle managers. While still citizens of Dorchester, they were required to serve his under-house, House Verena. Vera would be using them to run his businesses for him and manage his estate.

  Last but not least were his wackos. Formally they were defined as ‘oathsworn’, but nominally still called followers. They gave up their livelihoods and turned over their assets for the right to follow him across the greater kingdom, Oglivarch, as his personal forces. They would have no city to call home, nor any family ties to anyone outside House Walker. For those with criminal records, their societal debt would be transferred wholly over to him, to use as he saw fit. Yet, surprisingly, there were quite a few people who chose this level of service despite not being criminals.

  These were the people who were giving up everything to follow him. Cathleen and the few people who had been running his house while in the field were the first to take their oaths. After which, the wackos one by one lined up and gave theirs. These oaths were permanent and legally binding. According to what he read, once given, it was practically impossible to break them.

  When he’d first coined the term ‘wackos’, he’d meant it as a comedic interpretation of what kind of mindset it took to be an adventurer. Having stated that he intended his House to be ‘The Walker Adventuring Company’, it had just been too good of a joke not to use it.

  The wackos of the W.A.C. It had been perfect.

  But now, he found it ironic how he couldn’t stop thinking about how crazy someone would have to be to agree to the oaths he was hearing. They were giving up everything just so they could serve him. He’d even gone out of his way to explain to them in detail why he wasn’t fit to lead them, and still they had stubbornly taken a knee and signed their lives away. Wackos… every one of them.

  While the ceremony continued on around him, he sat like a lump on his oversized throne and tried not to look at anyone too judgmentally. After reading all about what an ‘honor’ it was to serve a unique, and about all the ‘benefits’ that went along with the position, he realized he would simply never understand what they were thinking.

  This society was all about ‘paths’ and what they thought it took to ‘walk’ them. Somehow they’d gotten it into their head that following someone who was leveling quickly, was special, or had a promising future would somehow help them with their own path by association. While he didn’t necessarily disagree, he remained pretty skeptical about that spiritually optimistic conclusion.

  Regardless, as the hours passed and the ceremony went on, he took comfort in the fact that this farce would soon be over and he’d be able to get back to doing something more productive. Like killing kobalds and playing with his magic… maybe finally finding out what magical beer tasted like.

  When the ceremony finally started wrapping up, the schedule informed him that he was unfortunately going to have to start participating.

  Standing up from his throne, he awkwardly took a moment to shake out his sleeping legs to get the blood moving again. Seeing the people running the show quickly arranging everything, he stepped up to take his assigned place at the front of the dais.

  Reading off of the script, he used his essence to once again project his voice throughout the hall, “Your oaths have been heard, and accepted. Henceforth, know that you are part of House Walker, and together we shall rise. Now, as members of my house, come forth to receive your cloaks of service and our crest. Wear them both with pride, knowing that you are now sworn to a unique house of Oglivarch, representing its will with your every action.”

  Waiting patiently, Nero watched as Cathleen gestured harshly at several people immediately causing them to scurry around like stagehands. Rolling tables filled with cloaks were wheeled out, along with large ornate metal tubs filled with what looked like patches in the shape of his house’s crest.

  Then, surprisingly quickly, one by one the people that had sworn oaths to him lined up in front of him. Following the schedule, he began handing them a crest while servants draped one of the cloaks over their shoulders.

  “Hold to your oaths and don this with pride and honor,” he repeated over and over again, the words slowly losing their meaning with the repetition.

  He felt like a principal handing out diplomas to the overly happy graduates he’d had nothing to do with teaching. Each and every person he handed a crest to received them with cupped hands and disgustingly reverent looks on their faces. Considering that there were well over three hundred people involved, it took him quite a long time to get through everyone.

  When it was finally over, he looked out over a sea of teal cloaks and shouted, “For House Walker! For Oglivarch!”

  He had to stifle a chuckle as he read on the schedule, ‘Wait for applause to die down’.

  After a good thirty seconds of cheering, the crowd simmered down and he added, “Now, for all those who've joined House Walker, you may return to your duties. For those guests who are in attendance, please join me in the receiving hall for refreshments and entertainment. Thank you one and all for coming to see the birth of House Walker. May the legend of its rise be remembered.”

  Having successfully gotten to the end of his scheduled duties, he rushed off the dais. Like a performer having finished his set, Nero hid behind one of the pillars and gave a full-bodied shiver to mentally break himself away from the noble persona he’d just been forced to channel.

  After a few minutes where he spent some time actively disassociating from reality, he noticed Vera and Cathleen walking up to him. With a tremble in his voice, he asked, “That’s it, right? I’m done? The schedule doesn’t have anything else on it, so that means it’s over. Please tell me I don’t have to go back out there!”

  Both women exchanged a look before Vera replied, “Yes, the ceremony is finished. And aside from the… inventive speech you gave at the beginning, you did well enough. Now, you’ll just have to spend some time in the reception hall, thanking those nobles who’d taken time out of their day to witness this event. After that, I believe you have a meeting scheduled with your house’s leadership.”

  Groaning like a child being told that he couldn’t take off the annoying tie his mother had made him wear just yet, he asked, “Do I have to?”

  Cathleen’s harsh voice replied, “Of course not. You’re a unique lord of Oglivarch. You don’t have to do anything you don’t wish to do.”

  Narrowing his eyes at her, he said, “Sure. But there would be consequences, wouldn’t there? I’d look like an asshole bucking tradition or something, and I can’t see it being a good idea to blow off my house’s first official meeting.”

  Vera smirked and replied, “Very true, my lord. All actions have consequences, even inactions. Whether you like it or not, you are the face of House Walker, and you need to present yourself as such.”

  Glaring at her, he replied, “Fine. But there at least better be something worth eating at this so-called reception.”

  Gesturing at them to indicate that they should lead the way, he added in a mutter, “At least if this were a wedding there’d be wedding cake. I’ll probably end up having to eat a ‘ceremony sausage’ or something equally ridiculous.”