Chapter Text
Klagain sat in the tub, letting his tired muscles relax. Now that Boson’s influence had left them, the aches of mortality had found him again. It was a good ache though, the kind that came after a rigorous work out. He liked it, it was satisfying in a way. Klagain stretched, the acolytes tending to him backing off to give him a wide berth. Klagain smirked, sinking back into the water. He would definitely need to find a decent exercise regimen. He liked the deference he got from being so big. Besides, he'd be a poor defender if he let himself slide.
The two acolytes attending him resumed their work gathering blue locks and twisting them into many thick braids. Finally bringing order to his unruly mane. Klagain looked to where his husband sat. Now that the ritual had concluded the spa had reopened and was running at full capacity. That meant his husband was drawing a lot of attention. Bromli sat in a chair carved in the shape of a beaver. He had three men fussing over him, including Butcher. It was at the scarred man's insistence. The sub should be pampered in the afterglow. Klagain fully agreed and he would be there with him if he wasn't so sore himself.
Butcher had cut and shaved Bromli's thinning hair into a horseshoe flattop. The style suited him, utilising the hair he still had while accentuating his bald spot. Butcher's acolytes busied themselves with combing out his luxurious moustache. They were dedicated to making the gold beard look his best and it showed. Many of the spa's patrons slowed down as they passed just to admire Bromli. Klagain smiled to himself, feeling a little proud. He knew it was Bromli's day, he was meant to be the centre of attention. But it was difficult not to feel a thrill knowing just how many of the men in this room would kill to be in his position.
Klagain’s attendants were just finishing the last few plaits when two smartly dressed men broke from the crowd of bathing dwarves. A dwarven ’woman’ trailing behind them. A guildmaster and his wife, though the reality of dwarven wives was clear to him now. It was more a precaution, on the off chance their mark’s spouse slipped through the temple’s fingers. Every fibre of their clothing sourced from some distant land and hand embroidered, they were the definition of opulence… but his apparent bodyguard was the one that drew Klagain’s eye. He didn't recognize him at first, dressed in his suit jacket and matching kilt. His beard combed for the first time in the years that the blue beard had known him. When their eyes met and the newcomer grinned, flashing a bug horsey grin. It clicked. “Halgraev!?” He barked, bolting upright. “What's all this then?”
Halgraev sauntered over to the blue beard's tub, unapologetically drinking in Klagain's nudity. “Well well… which one were ye, master?” He asked with a sardonic lilt.
“You!… You were in on this, weren't you?” Klagain snorted, his nostrils flaring. “Gah I knew you couldn’t be trusted!”
“Ha! ‘lady’ Katrina, I take it.” Halgraev sneered, bowing with text-book precision. That dispelled any doubt, this lout had a knight’s background. He rose, slipping his hands behind his back. “Looks like ye were right ey? I was up ta somethin’ after all. ” Halgraev chuckled. Klagain felt his temper flare, he blew the flames out through his nose. He wouldn’t let Halgraev get the better of him. Not in front of who was probably his husband’s superior. But there was something about being referred to by his old name that just irritated him on a visceral level.
“Yer fuckin’ spy then?” Klagain said curtly, glancing at the wealthy couple as he finally caught up to his escort. It made sense, someone to keep an eye on their target to make sure he never figured out too much. This bugger worked them both like a fiddle, playing the dimwitted driver. He always knew where they were and what they were up to. It was the perfect set up.
“Last now ye have a reason not to like me, ey?” Halgraev winked. Klagain winced, once again reminded of the wretch he once was. The bastard was right about that, Katrina didn’t have a good reason to hate him. She just thought he was an ugly little dwarf, thus untrustworthy. Klagain could taste the bile at the back of his throat, he never wanted to be that creature ever again.
“What are ye doin’, Halgraev?” Asked the guildmaster, he was a short dwarf. He looked much like Bromli with a sunburst of a red-orange beard. Klagain looked to the ‘woman’ sulking behind him, scrutinising the disguise. It was seamless, he never really saw anything overtly suspicious about the guildmaster’s ‘wives’. ‘She’ was as pretty as a porcelain doll, with an enormous beehive updo. Klagain had to pity the poor man that had to march around in that disguise “Is this the latest member o’ our alumni?”
“Nah.” Halgrave said with a shrug, he looked over his shoulder to grin at the ‘women’ sulking miserably behind the guild master. “He was his wife.”
“Really? No shit?” The ‘woman’ asked, in a low gravelly voice.
Klagain climbed out from the pool, pushing away his attendance. The acolytes shrank away, shaken by the presence of so many important men in one place. “Yeh, sorry you all had to hide yerselves. We’re all men here.” Klagain stopped before the pair, his head held high.
“Fuckin’ finally.” The guildmaster’s ‘wife’ grabbed his face, tearing off the mask. The sound of tearing paper rang out as the man behind the spell fell apart. His snowy beard unfurling over his austere sleeveless robes. He was a titan, easily as tall as Butcher and covered in ink. The part of Klagain that was still that girl from the country estate shivered at the sight of the man’s tattoos. A wizard. “We need to ditch this act, boyo. I’m so bored of playin’ dainty maiden.”
“Now now, Guldaron. Tis important we keep up the ruse. Ye know how humans are, the further ye are from their idea of normal, the more hostile they get.” The guild master stroked his beard, nodding sagely to himself. Klagain winced, folding his arms over his chest defensively.
“I guess you’re right, love.” Guldaron sighed, shaking his bald head.
The guild master smiled, giving his own husband a pat on the shoulder. The wizard smiled, his irritation easing. He stepped to the front of the pack, nodding to the blue beard “Anyroad, where’s yer guidman? I have a tailor waitin’ fer us. Tis best we don’t delay.”
Klagain looked to Bromli, he was already climbing off his chair. Butcher took the twin plumes of Bromli’s moustache and gently laid them over the gold beard’s shoulders so their excessive length hung down Bromli’s back like a pair of epaulettes. Bromli bowed in thanks, Butcher planted a kiss on the top of the gold beard’s head. “O aye, that's our boy?” cut in the guildmaster, following the blue beard's sight line.
“Master Quicksilver! I must thank you!” Bromli crowed, waddling to the increasingly affluent collection of mountainfolk as fast as his stumpy legs could carry him. Klagain saw the three newcomers’ eyes light up as saw him. He scooped up Bromli, bringing him closer. The gold beard giggled, running his fingers through the blue beard's braids. “I had no Idea my promotion would come with such wonderful benefits.” Bromli chuffed, draping himself over Klagain’s arm. Klagain smiled, giving his husband's belly a pat.
“We're glad yer adjustin’.” Guildmaster Quicksilver nodded approving, the desire was naked on the dwarf’s face. Klagain felt a protective urge surface. He knew his husband was more than just some tender pig. He had worked with these men for years, but the blue beard couldn't help but feel defensive around this experienced money man and his minions. “Let's get down to brass tacks lad, grab yer old man and let's go. We have much to do.”
“ Ah, yes, I had a few questions about that, so I'm not exactly dressed for the ceremony this evening.” Bromli spread his hands, gesturing to his nude figure.
“Bah, don't worry about it, lad. This was your ceremony. “ Master Quicksilver said, gesturing to the burly pair with open arms. “The party ‘n speeches? They can wait til yer properly dressed.”
“And give you a week or two to get your estates transferred over.” Guldaron added, drumming on his tattooed biceps with his fingers. “And don't worry, we'll take care of your families.”
The cold disaffection in the wizard’s voice cut through the joy of the moment. It felt wrong, Klagain didn’t care what happened to him. He wasn’t going to let some ink demon mess with his mother. The blue beard let Bromli go, stepping up to the wizard. “ Do what to my family?” He growled glaring into the tattooed man in his blue eyes.
Guldaron remained unphased. He flexed two cyan runes on his toned arms flashing. A wall of force pushed Klagain back, but he stayed on his feet. “Make them forget. What do you think we can leave a bunch of land barons left wondering where their fuckin’ precious girl went?” The wizard scoffed. “You touched in the bleedin’ dome?”
Klagain bristled, that wasn't a sacrifice prepared for. It made sense, the wealthy tended to be insular. If one family started talking about their girl going missing in dwarven territory. Soon the whole south would know. Still, he was not ready to throw away those golden fields, even if the mountain sang to him now. Klagain balled his fists, squaring shoulders. “Make an exception.”
Guldaron rolled his eyes. “This isn't a fuckin’ fight you wanna pick, boy.” He pointed at Klagain, the runes up his arm burning with light.
Klagain felt a hand on his shoulder. He flinched to see Bromli at his side. “Would it be so difficult to bring another three dwarves into the fold? Klagain’s father that's been out of the picture for quite a long time. So it would only be his mother and two siblings.”
“And the altered memories o’ all o’ their servants.” The guildmaster chimed in, watching the stand off.
“This ain't religious buggery.” Guldaron snorted. “You can't just change anyone anywhere. The spell used on you only worked because you were in a place where they channel our god. Clerics are worthless out there without circles and rituals. I would have to do it myself.”
Butcher snorted derisively from the sidelines, watching the conflict play out. His apprentices gathered around him like frightened sheep. The wizard ignored the interjection. “Or we would have to find a way to poison the estate with our magic. Either way, that's a lot of planning and set up for just one sap's family.”
“What me guidman is tryin’ to say is yer askin’ fer quite a sizable favour.” The guildmaster added a twinkle in his hooded eyes. Guldaron was losing his patience, that was clear. Klagain didn't know a lot about magic, but he imagined this wizard could do a lot worse to him than just alter his mind. Still Quicksilver was the one that Klagain felt unnerved by. It's something about his gaze. “Tis quite a lot o’ ground ye'd be givin’ up. It'd weaken yer position fer years.”
“I am aware.” Bromli nodded, stepping between Klagain and the wizard. That didn't feel right to the blue beard. It was his job to protect his husband, not for his husband to be buried in debt for his sake. He opened his mouth to object, but Bromli only raised one hand, silencing him. As if he knew what Klagain was going to say. The gold beard looked over her shoulder, giving his husband a wink. “I have no qualms with my former family forgetting me. But my husband's family are good people, fine additions to our brotherhood. There's no need to force them out of his life.”
Halgraev whistled, that was enough for Klagain to understand just how much money it wasn't the line.
“You can't seriously be considering this.” Guldaron huffed indignantly, reading the expression on Quicksilver’s face.
“We were goin’ to give ye the new branch office on the Emerald sea. In ol’ Glazfox.” Quicksilver leered, stroking his beard. “What if yer willin’ to give me a slice o’ yer shares. I'm willin’ to sanction the wine needed fer this little adventure o’ yers…and a master of spellwork fer Insurance.”
“Hmph.” Guldaron grunted, turning away.
“Certainly, but I must insist we both attend. To ensure you will follow through, of course.” Bromli nodded, steepling his fingers.
The guildmaster tugged at his brightly coloured whiskers, considering the proposal. He looked to his husband’s broad back. “It won't be a problem, will it?”
The wizard only grunted, a sound one could interpret as ‘no.’
Halgraev stifled a laugh with a snort, seeming to relish the wizard's helpless situation. The old beast must have a weak spot for his husband, Klagain noted. Perhaps Bromli had picked up on that too.
“Most gracious, it will be good to see the south again. I'll send back bread baskets~” Bromli responded warmly, offering a hand to shake. Klagain blinked, bread baskets why would he mention– Then it clicked. ‘Her’ family held a substantial portion of their former home kingdom's heartland. The breadbasket of the south. If Bromli could strike a deal with them. Which they certainly would consider the wondrous gift he was giving them. It would bring a substantial amount of resources to his side. Considering the demand for barley in the old dwarven kingdoms, it would be more than enough to counterbalance what he was giving over to Quicksilver.
Guildmaster Quicksilver shook Guildmaster Goldriver’s hand. “Consider it a deal.”
“A pleasure.” Bromli beamed, giving his senior a small bow. “Now, you mentioned something about a tailor? Well needed travelling clothes.” the gold beard looked back at his husband, giving him a small nod. Klagain raced, his family were going to get to feel as good as he had. He wasn’t merely getting to revisit his childhood. It was going to become a part of him, the new him. He couldn’t wait to show his ‘father’ and ‘brothers’ the estate. They could learn the finer points of dwarven culture together and it was all thanks to his wonderful husband. He rushed the portly dwarf, pulling him into a tight embrace.
“Thank you, honey bun…” Klagain sniffled, tears well in his eyes.
“It's my pleasure, my beautiful bear…” Bromli hummed, nuzzling into Klagain’s chest.
“I guess we got a lot to do now, huh?” The blue beard sniffed, wiping his eyes.
Bromli took his husband’s hand into his, leading him out of the bath house and into the temple. “And this time, we shall do it together."