The great hall of Kellen-Tir was built to make a dwarf feel small, even if he had spent his entire life fighting things much larger than himself. Bram tried not to show how the size of the chamber impressed him again after so many months away. The tall arches overhead carried the faint hum of the forges from far below the mountain, a sound that never truly left the air.

  Farrin stood beside him, arms crossed and face unreadable. She had always been better than he was at masking nerves, though he knew she felt them. Neither of them had expected to return home into the middle of something that felt like the beginning of a kingdom cracking apart.

  At the far end of the hall, King Thoman Flintmantle leaned forward in the carved stone chair that dwarves simply called the Seat. His beard was streaked with silver, and his eyes, once known for their calm judgment, were sharper than Bram remembered. General Marn stood to the king’s right, armor polished enough to catch the colored light. To the king’s left stood Balek Hearthgleam, the king’s closest advisor, his hands folded over the top of a carved walking staff. Gadrik Strongstaff waited near one of the side pillars, listening quietly.

  The king had allowed Bram and Farrin to speak for nearly an hour. They told him everything they could: the dark ruins, the arcane artifact that had pulled Azandra away from home, the sorcerer Nezzarod, the twisted visions Nethira had suffered, and the way different pieces of trouble in the north seemed to be connected by thin threads.

  The king had not interrupted once. He had listened with the focus of a craftsman testing a metal’s grain.

  Now the hall felt painfully still as the king rested his elbows on his knees and spoke in a quiet tone.

  "Relics," he said, as if testing the word. "Sorcerers. Unsettled people. A pattern of trouble moving through the land." He rubbed his thumb along the edge of his beard, thinking it through. "How much of this has already reached my doorstep without me seeing it."

  Bram shifted his weight, trying not to fidget. For all his strength, there were moments like this when he remembered he was a dwarf who had once delivered iron buckets to the castle kitchens. Facing a king still made something inside him stiffen.

  Farrin stepped forward. "Your Majesty, we need to understand the Hammer better. The one these rebels talk about. The Hammer of Tir-Terrum. How real is it? And why does everyone act like it matters so much?"

  King Thoman opened his mouth, but Balek Hearthgleam spoke first.

  "It is real," he said, and his voice carried enough certainty that Bram straightened his back. "Forged of starfall iron when dwarves still had the skill and the courage to shape such things. The Hammer was anything but myth. It was the symbol of our earliest kings. It reminded the people that the mountain belonged to no single clan, but to all."

  Bram swallowed. He had heard the old stories from the forges when he was young. Most dwarves spoke of Tir-Terrum the way humans spoke of faraway heroes from ballads. It had never felt real.

  Marn crossed his arms. "Then why has it been missing for centuries. Lost in song does not give much hope."

  Balek looked at him with a small, sharp smile. "Songs do not erase truth. They hide it, and people forget to dig."

  The general grunted, not convinced.

  Farrin studied Balek with a steady gaze. She had always been quick to sense when someone avoided the whole truth. "And you know something you are not telling us."

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  Balek’s hands tightened slightly on his staff. "I know enough to say this. If someone is trying to stir rebellion in the name of Tir-Terrum, then either they believe the Hammer still exists, or they have found something to convince others it does. That alone is dangerous."

  "Too dangerous," Marn said. "We have skirmishes in the outer passes nearly every day now. Men turning blades on fellow dwarves. If this Hammer becomes a symbol for them, we may face more than small uprisings."

  Bram stepped forward. "What about the golems. Could they help keep the peace. They guard the city better than any soldier."

  Balek responded before the king could. His tone was sharp and decisive. "No. The magic that animates the golems does not allow them to commit violence. They were shaped to protect and build, not to kill. Their creators purposely bound them so they could never be used for war."

  The thought settled heavily in Bram’s stomach. He had first seen the golems as a child. They had seemed unstoppable then. Knowing they could not lift a finger in a true fight felt suddenly wrong, as if a childhood belief had cracked.

  "If someone twisted that magic," Balek continued, lowering his voice, "if someone corrupted a golem with dark power, the kingdom would not survive the consequences. It would tear us apart more completely than any rebellion."

  Farrin nodded, taking in the words. "Then we need to understand the relics. If there are other weapons made from starfall iron, or anything like the Hammer, the rebels may already be looking for them."

  The king exhaled slowly. There was a weight in his face that Bram had seen in older warriors who had lived through too many campaigns. "There are a few such relics left in the world," he said. "Pieces scattered across old vaults and shrines. I have seen some. But none are the Hammer. The Hammer was unique."

  "Could we forge something similar," Farrin asked.

  The king shook his head. "Perhaps. But not with the forges we have now."

  Gadrik Strongstaff stepped forward for the first time. His heavy boots echoed in the great hall. "The forges that shaped starfall iron burned hotter than anything we can manage now. They were run by master smiths who were more than craftsmen. They were tradition keepers. Their line ended long ago. The forges themselves are said to have collapsed, been sealed, or been lost under rockfalls."

  "Could they still exist?" Bram asked.

  Gadrik nodded slowly. "They could. And if those forges remain, then the Hammer may not be far."

  Balek turned his head toward the king. There was no need for words; the two dwarves shared the same understanding.

  King Thoman stood from the stone chair. He seemed older than he had when Bram entered, but his stance remained firm. "Balek. You will find any record of the old forges. Old ledgers, hidden maps, stories from families who once worked with starfall iron. Whatever you can uncover."

  Balek bowed his head. "I will begin at once."

  The king turned to Gadrik. "And you. Go to the guilds. They remember more history than most priests. If there is a secret to those forges, someone will know it."

  Gadrik pressed his fist to his chest. "Yes, my king."

  Finally, the king looked at Bram and Farrin. There was something in his gaze that neither dwarf had seen before. Not suspicion. Not disappointment. Something closer to trust.

  "You two will go with General Marn," he said. "Find out which mages have enough skill to defend us if this dark sorcerer is involved. I will not lead this kingdom into war without understanding the magic building against us. And if the Hammer is truly part of this, we must act before the rebellion spreads beyond the mountain."

  Bram felt the weight of the order settle onto his shoulders. He knew what it meant. If the Hammer existed, and if someone was using its name to stir dwarves to violence, the entire mountain could become a battlefield.

  Farrin nodded first. "We will go, Your Majesty."

  Bram followed with the same promise. "You have our strength."

  The hall grew quiet again. The king returned to his seat. Balek and Gadrik exchanged a look that spoke volumes about the effort ahead. Marn’s shoulders tightened as if preparing already for a fight he hoped would never come.

  Bram felt Farrin’s presence beside him like a steady pillar. He knew the path ahead would not be easy. He had dreamed of simple battles and clear enemies when he was young. Now the enemy wore the face of a dwarf. And somewhere out there, perhaps buried in rock or hidden in shadow, a weapon from the stars might be waiting.

  The weight of that thought stayed with him long after the king dismissed them.