Notes: On we go! Let's have some tea and backstory, shall we?

Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards: Ch. 10 Pt. 1 

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Chapter Ten, Part One

A 360º View

They rode for long enough that Hiram wasn’t even really surethey were still in “town” when they finally stopped. The horse had confidentlymade its way through the heart of Lollop and out a smaller street, past severaltanneries from the smell of it, then a few farms—one rabbit, one pig—andfinally up a trail that climbed a sweet, round little hill to a cottage at thetop of it. The hill really wasn’t that high, but Hiram found he could see formiles in every direction up there. “What a lovely spot,” he said as Averyfinally reined his mare in.

Avery smiled. “Thank you. I find I like the solitude of it.”He dismounted and patted his horse on the nose, then gestured toward the smallbuilding at the back of the cottage that must be his barn. “I’m going to puther away, but you’re welcome to go in—”

“No, no.” Hiram held up his hands, smiling to take the stingout of his refusal of hospitality. He did want to go in, but he wasn’t going totake that step without his host’s presence. It just seemed rude to dootherwise, and he knew he’d made the right choice when Avery’s shoulders relaxed.“I prefer to take in the view.”

“I’ll be back in a moment.” Avery left with the mare, andHiram looked back down the way they’d come. The trail led westward, back towardLollop and his own home on the far side of it. A day’s ride beyond that was theimperial highway, where his doom would come from if it ever caught up to him.

He grimaced and looked south, where he could see the cut inthe fields that indicated the main road into and out of Lollop. That roadstretched across the entirety of Oribel, connecting it from north to south andrunning right through Orivode, the capital, some hundred miles hence. The nextclosest towns were around the size of Lollop, though, small country villages.East was more farmland, forest, and the sluggishly winding Plunkett River thatfed most of the streams and fields nearby, and north…

Hmm. Hiram squinted into the distance at the stick-like speckon the horizon. It was too slender to be a mountain, too dark to be a temple—atleast a temple of Melemor—and too straight to be anything but purposeful.

“That’s Gemmel’s Tower.”

Hiram didn’t jump, but it was a near thing. He turned toface Avery, who walked up beside him with a pensive expression. “Who was Gemmelthat they built such a tower?”

Avery raised one eyebrow. “You’ve never heard of himbefore?”

Should I have? Hiram had come across a lot of towersin his day, most of them built either by overly arrogant wizards, dark lordslooking for trouble, or the occasional dwarven magnate who decided to built upinstead of down. “I’m afraid I haven’t.” He glanced out at it again. “It mustbe immense, though.”

“It is,” Avery confirmed. “It’s almost three hundred feethigh.”

Damn. That was tall even for a wizard. “What’s it made of?”

“Blackstone.”

Holy hell. Blackstone was the hardest rock in theworld, one that could only be worked by dwarves or trolls. Actually, there wasa higher proportion of dwarves in Lollop than Hiram had expected, given thatOribel’s population largely consisted of humans and gnomes. “Who in the hellscould afford to bring in that much blackstone?”

Avery nodded toward the house. “I’ll tell you about it overa cup of tea.”

Hiram wasn’t about to refuse hospitality a second time.“Thank you.” He followed his host to the front door of the cottage, which borea rather thick lock, and then inside. It was a small building, a single storytall, and with three rooms to it—a good place for a bachelor. The front roomwas large enough for a table and two chairs, a rather roomy fireplace, and afood cabinet. Two windows were enough to let a good amount of light in, and itwas surprisingly warm.

Avery stoked the embers in the fireplace until he had flamesgoing, added a few logs, then hung a kettle on the hob. “My tea selection israther poor compared to yours,” he said in apology as he got down a teapot, twosmall ceramic cups, and a jar of honey. “All I can offer is raspberry or lemonmint.”

“Lemonmint would be welcome.” Something to soothe the sensesafter the morning he’d had. “Thank you.”

“The kettle should be boiling soon,” Avery assured him, thensat down and gestured to the other chair. “Please, sit.”

Hiram joined him at the table, the floor creaking rathernoticeable with every step. The chair was comfortable, though, and when Averyuncovered a bowl of roasted nuts and offered them to him, he accepted. “It waskind of you to help me back there,” he said before popping a hazelnut into hismouth.

“It was the least I could do, after giving you such pooradvice,” Avery replied.

Hiram frowned. “What do you mean? Your advice was perfectlysound.”

“But it clearly didn’t work for you, since you had to relivesuch a tragic moment in your life in order to satisfy Melemor.”

Ah.  “Don’tworry,” Hiram said. “That was far from the worst thing I’ve been through. I dohope the High Priest recovers soon, though.”

Avery’s eyes were wide. “Are you being—are you serious?”

“Yeeees,” Hiram said cautiously. “Why is that a problem?”

“Because that was—Hiram, cleansings, even for people who’vesuffered the loss of a loved one or who’ve been badly hurt, never feellike that. Not in Lollop, at least. Nor in Orivash, from what I remember ofservices there, or in—other places.”

There was little Hiram could say to that except shrug. “I’velived an eventful life,” he said.

“You say that like you’re an old man.”

“I am an old man.”

“Please.” Avery scoffed. “You can’t be more than fifty.”

Hiram smiled. “Forty-eight.”

“Barely into your middle years, then. You’ve got a lot oflife left ahead of you.”

“And I hope it will be much less eventful than the life Ileft behind,” he said in a tone of finality.

Avery, thankfully, took the hint. “I think the water isbeginning to boil, give me a moment.” He got up and fussed with the kettle andthe teapot for a bit, then set down their mugs, two small plates, and tiny, delicatespoons for the tea. They were slightly tarnished, but…

“Silver?” Hiram asked.

Avery smiled tightly. “A gift from a friend.”

Either his friend was very wealthy, compared to the area, orthey had a fear of being poisoned. Spelled silver spoons were commonplace amongthe powerful, one more way to evade assassins, but Hiram would never haveexpected to see something like that here. He spooned a little honey into hiscup, then poured the tea. The smell of lemonmint rose up in a cloud, wreathinghis face in comforting warmth, and Hiram closed his eyes and sighed withsatisfaction at the scent of it. When he opened his eyes, he saw Avery lookingat him like he was trying to decipher a forgotten language.

“The tower,” he said after a moment. “It belonged to adwarven wizard named Gemmel. He fought in the Deyrian heights during their warwith the serpentkin for decades, apparently, but eventually he was driven outof their homelands. He, and many other dwarves, settled into these lands abouta century ago. Oribel was a new member of the Vordurian Empire at the time, andthat made resettling easier than it might have been otherwise.”

Because so many people were lost to the ambitions ofAndurion’s great-grandfather. “I see.”

“Gemmel’s magic was unique,” Avery went on, “in that it wasalmost entirely limited to transubstantiation.”

Hiram blinked. “That’s an unusual specialty—from what Iunderstand,” he tacked on to the end.

“I wouldn’t know,” Avery said with a shrug. “But I do knowthat’s how he got the blackstone. It was originally built out of wood, I think,and he changed it layer after layer after layer.”

Oh hells. Wood to blackstone? Hiram wasn’t an expert intransubstantiation, but even he knew that wood to blackstone was a bad idea.The two substances were different in every way—most successful transformationshappened between two things that had similar origins, like granite to marble,or carrots to turnips. Wood to blackstone…what was that tower truly made of?

“Gemmel began a magic academy, but it only lasted a fewyears. Written sources reference him as a dwarf who seemed to be slowly goingmad—perfectly sane one day, confused the next, frothing with rage a third.”Avery swirled the tea in his cup. “He drove everyone who ever tried to help himaway, but several of them reported that his tower was full of treasures he’dcreated—mostly gold, but also magical items, gems, and some heritage piecesfrom his clan as well.”

Hiram saw where this was going. “He was targeted for hiswealth, I suppose?”

Avery nodded. “Imperial troops, led by their own powerfulwizard, laid siege to the tower. They weren’t able to make a dent in theblackstone, but the wizard managed to do something to get them a wayinside. They attacked during the night, but none of them ever emerged from thetower again, and neither did Gemmel. He laid some sort of spell on it to keepanyone from being able to get inside, whether they’re trying to go through adoor, a window, or even all the way to the top and going through the roof. Aftera few decades, people stopped trying.”

“Fascinating,” Hiram said. “And tragic for everyoneinvolved.”

“It is.” They sat in silence for a moment, then Avery nudgedHiram’s foot under the table. “Drink your tea.”

Hiram drank. It tasted like sunshine.