The Half Dwarf Prince: 02 - The Dwarf War by J. M. Fosberg

were running away. He stopped. “What is this?”
    Rupert stopped and turned around. He walked over next to Bergmann and looked up at the banner. “I believe this is supposed to represent a scene from a battle that took place some hundred and fifty years ago, King Bergmann.”
    Bergmann looked over at Rupert. “This appears to show that the men won this battle.”
    “That is what our history tells us. I do not know a great deal of the story, but the general idea is that sometime about one hundred and fifty years ago, one of the dwarf clans attacked Portwein, and King Arnold Merwein, our current king’s great-great-grandfather, lead an army to run the dwarf army off. I apologize if this is offensive, King Bergmann.”
    Bergmann looked over at Rupert. “The only thing I find offensive about it is that it is a lie.”
    “History is often misinterpreted over time , King Bergmann,” Rupert said.
    Bergmann turned and looked up into the man’s eyes. To his credit he did not fold like his king. “It was one hundred and thirty -three years ago. Your King Arnold Merwein asked the dwarves of Tiefes Loch to trade him steel to make weapons. The desert tribes were coming out of the Einode and attacking all of the trade caravans. He was planning on consolidating the caravans into much larger groups and sending units of soldiers to protect them. When we showed up to the meeting place, his soldiers ambushed us and attempted to take the steel. His soldiers all died that day, and only the men on horseback escaped with your king.”
    “You were there , King Bergmann?” Rupert asked with honest interest.
    Bergmann turned his head to the side , revealing the scar that ran along the base of his neck on the left side. “The ambush was initiated by a bowman firing at me. King Arnold was a fool. Had I fallen, Tiefes Loch would have marched on Portwein and burned the city to the ground.”
    Rupert nodded his head. “I believe what you say , King Bergmann. It is not a secret that men who write their own history most often write it to reflect themselves as the heroes. King Arnold Merwein could not have told the story as you did or he would have tainted his own legacy.”
    “I am not interested in convincing you of the nobility of my kin, nor the dishonor of yours. We are who we are. What matters is what we are doing now, and right now what I am trying to do is eat something,” Bergmann said.
    “As you wish, King Bergmann,” Rupert said, and turned down the hall that would lead them out of the palace.
    When they were outside the palace and the courtyard, walking down the dirt streets of the city , Rupert looked over at Bergmann. “I don’t mean to pry, King Bergmann, but after the story you told me, I am curious why you would travel through the city without security.”
    Bergmann stopped. “Maybe you’re not as observant as I thought.”
    The man looked at him, and then began scanning the city around them. On rooftops on both sides of the block were dwarf crossbowmen. On both of the streets that paralleled the one they were walking on were a dozen dwarves shadowing their movement. The man nodded his understanding. Rupert didn’t lose his composure, but Bergmann knew that he was upset with himself for not realizing it sooner. He had likely been distracted thinking about their earlier conversation. He began walking again.
    “The place is just around the next corner , King Bergmann.”
    Rupert led him to a corner building. It was one of the few buildings they had passed that was made of stone. A steady stream of smoke poured from a chimney , and they could smell meat cooking a block before they reached the place. The storefront was just a big window in one wall, with no door in sight. Rupert walked up to the big window.
    “Good morning , Miss Patricia. How are you today?”
    Bergmann was not attracted to human women, but he could tell the difference between women they considered attractive and unattractive. The woman in the window