The silence in the grand hall was suffocating, the weight of the king's accusation settling over the room like a heavy shroud. The dwarves seated in their ornate chairs flanking the throne shifted slightly, their eyes gleaming with expectation. The faint scrape of metal against stone as some adjusted their weapons made Raelyn's pulse quicken. Thomrik stood frozen, his broad shoulders rigid, his face an impassive mask that betrayed none of the turmoil she knew must be churning within.

King Gorin Stonefist leaned forward in his magnificent throne, his piercing eyes narrowing as they locked onto Thomrik. The trinkets in his braided beard jingled faintly with the movement, their sound incongruously light against the weight of his words. "Thomrik Shieldthane," he said, his voice carrying the strength of the mountain itself. "The traitor who stole the Warhammer of Aegis dares to set foot in Khazrundar once more."

The room erupted in agreement, the sound reverberating like thunder. The clan leaders brought their weapons down onto the stone floor in unison—hammers, maces, and axes clanging in a synchronized display of disapproval. The resounding noise echoed off the carved walls, magnifying their outrage. The tension in the room thickened, and Raelyn's hands curled into fists at her sides.

Thomrik didn't flinch. He stood rooted to the spot, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the king. Yet Raelyn could see it—the faint tremor in his clenched fists, the way his chest rose and fell just a little too quickly. The pain of the accusations and the weight of his exile were etched into his silence, even if his face refused to show it.

King Gorin's voice rose above the din, silencing the clang of weapons. "You stole from your king. You stole from your people. You carried our most prized creation—the Warhammer of Aegis—into exile, shaming your name and the honor of your clan." He gestured broadly to the clan leaders seated on either side of him. "And now you return, not alone, but with an entourage of humans—and a dragon." His sharp gaze fell to Rakz, who let out a low, guttural growl in response, his tail lashing against the polished floor.

Raelyn's breath caught. She couldn't stay silent. She took a step forward, her voice trembling slightly but filled with resolve. "Your Majesty, Thomrik would have honored his exile but was forced to come in order to save me and my friends from the infernal hounds. His actions were not without cause—"

"Silence!" the king bellowed, his command echoing through the hall. Raelyn's words died on her lips, her heart pounding as his gaze bore into her. "You will speak when spoken to, long-legs. You stand before the throne of Khazrundar, and you will remember your place."

Raelyn's face burned with humiliation, and her fists clenched at her sides. She caught a warning glance from Thomrik, his eyes briefly meeting hers, silently urging her to stand down. The message was clear: don't make this worse.

King Gorin turned his attention back to Thomrik, his tone colder than before. "You will face a trial to determine your punishment. The laws of Khazrundar demand justice for your betrayal." He paused, his next words deliberate and heavy. "If you will not make amends for your actions, Azazel's Gates will remain closed to you."

The room fell deathly silent. Raelyn didn't know what Azazel's Gates were, but the way Thomrik's face paled at the king's words made it clear: this was no ordinary punishment. The stoic mask Thomrik wore cracked for the briefest moment, his lips pressing into a thin line as his head dipped slightly. The anguish in his posture was unmistakable.

"Take him away," the king commanded, his voice final.

Two armored dwarves stepped forward from the rows of guards, their heavy boots echoing against the stone as they approached Thomrik. Raelyn's heart clenched, and she took a half-step forward, only to be stopped by Hovan's firm grip on her arm.

"Wait," he murmured, his voice low but steady. "This isn't our fight."

Danio, however, was less restrained. "This is madness!" he shouted, his voice carrying a mix of outrage and fear."Thomrik's more honorable than anyone in this room! He's not just some traitor—he's my friend!"

Hovan grabbed Danio's shoulder, forcing him to step back. "Let it go," he growled. "You're not helping."

The dwarves reached Thomrik, gripping his arms firmly. The older dwarf didn't resist, his head held high despite the humiliation of the moment. As they began to pull him away, he turned his head, his voice hurried but resolute. "Raelyn," he called, his words cutting through the tense air. "Don't worry about me. Focus on your goal. You must see it through."

Raelyn's throat tightened, her vision blurring as she nodded.

Thomrik managed the faintest of smiles before the guards dragged him out of the chamber. His heavy footsteps and the clinking of their armor faded into the distance, leaving the group standing in stunned silence.

Raelyn's fists clenched at her sides, her heart aching with the weight of what had just transpired. Rakz shifted uneasily beside her, his growl tapering off into a low whine as he looked up at her, his sharp eyes filled with concern. She placed a trembling hand on his head, drawing strength from his steady presence.

King Gorin's piercing gaze returned to the group, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Now," he said, his tone laced with suspicion, "let us address the rest of you. Why did you demand an audience with me, and why should I not throw you into the same cell as the traitor?"

Benji shifted slightly, his gaze flickering to Raelyn as she stood motionless under the king's piercing scrutiny. Without hesitation, he stepped closer, his hand resting lightly against her lower back—a gesture so subtle it was almost imperceptible, but it carried the steadying warmth of reassurance. Raelyn inhaled sharply at the contact, her resolve hardening. She couldn't let Thomrik's struggle distract her now.

Her voice, though calm, carried a weight that belied her inner turmoil. "Your Majesty," she began, her words measured and deliberate, "we've come to Khazrundar not as foes but as seekers of aid. Our journey has taken us from Kaiswen through trials and dangers unimaginable. Darkness spreads across Unevia, infecting every realm it touches. Baragor's influence grows stronger, and the realms are affected one by one."

She reached under her cloak, her fingers wrapping around the cool metal of the white locket. Lifting it into the light, she held it out for all to see. The soft glow of its surface caught the chamber's golden light, and the faintly pulsing runes etched into its face seemed to hum in response to the room's ambient magic. "This locket is not just a relic. It holds the key to Unevia's salvation. But to unlock its secrets, we need your help. Specifically, we need knowledge about the stone inside it—Selenite."

The room erupted into murmurs as the name of the stone passed from one dwarven leader to another. Raelyn glanced at the rows of dwarves seated on either side of the throne. Some leaned forward, their expressions alight with curiosity, while others scowled, suspicion etched deeply into their features.

The murmurs were silenced by the sharp crack of the king's axe pounding against the stone floor. The reverberation rolled through the chamber like a thunderclap, commanding instant silence. King Gorin leaned forward in his throne, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on Raelyn. "You speak boldly, human," he said, his tone carrying a mixture of amusement and skepticism. "But why should I entrust the secrets of my people to you? Why should I care about your quest? The gates of Khazrundar have stood unbroken for centuries. What threat could Baragor's demons possibly pose to us?"

Raelyn's jaw tightened at the king's dismissive tone, but she forced herself to remain composed. "Your Majesty," she said, her voice steady but firm, "the demons have already breached Kaiswen's magical barrier and set the elven forests ablaze. They will not stop. If Baragor sets his sights on Khazrundar, even your unbroken gates may not hold forever."

The king let out a deep, rumbling laugh that echoed off the chamber's stone walls. His trinkets jingled faintly as he shook his head. "You underestimate the dwarves," he said, his voice rich with pride. "Our gates will stand firm, whether for years or centuries. The knife-ears and long-legs may cower in fear, but we are not so easily conquered."

Raelyn clenched her fists, forcing herself to keep her temper in check. The king's arrogance mirrored that of the elven king and the High Council of Kaiswen—a shortsighted confidence that left no room for cooperation. She straightened her shoulders, her grip tightening on the locket. "We're not asking for soldiers or weapons, Your Majesty. All we ask is knowledge about Selenite—its properties, its connection to the gods. That information is crucial to finding the weapon of the gods and defeating Baragor."

At the mention of the weapon of the gods, another wave of murmurs rippled through the hall, though this time they carried an edge of intrigue. The king's brow furrowed, and he leaned forward, his interest clearly piqued. "A weapon of the gods, you say?" His sharp eyes studied her, as if trying to discern whether she spoke the truth. "And what would you do with such a weapon, human? Place it in your frail hands and hope for a miracle?"

Raelyn met his gaze unflinchingly. "We would use it as the gods intended—to vanquish the darkness and restore balance to Unevia."

The king's expression darkened, his fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm against the armrest of his throne. The sound echoed faintly in the vast hall, each tap resonating like the toll of a distant bell. His sharp eyes remained locked on the locket, though his focus seemed to shift inward, as if contemplating the weight of her words.

"Such a weapon..." he began, his voice low and measured, "would be of great interest to my people." The room fell deathly silent, every dwarf present leaning subtly forward, their collective attention riveted on the king's next words. "A weapon crafted by the gods themselves—its secrets would hold unimaginable value."

Raelyn felt the tension in the air tighten like an invisible noose. She kept her expression calm, but her fingers gripped the locket tightly, its cool surface grounding her as the king's words unfurled.

He leaned forward slightly, the light catching the gold bands woven through his braided beard. His gaze sharpened, his tone growing more deliberate. "We could study it," he continued, the hint of a smile ghosting his lips. "Learn its craftsmanship. Uncover the divine techniques used in its forging. Imagine what such knowledge could mean for Khazrundar—for our smiths, our masons, and our legacy."

The faint murmur of the seated dwarves rose again, hushed and speculative, like the rustling of leaves before a storm. Raelyn swallowed hard, her chest tightening as she waited for the king to reveal his intentions.

"Yes," he said at last, his tone shifting to something almost predatory. "I could give you the knowledge you seek. But..." He let the word hang in the air, the pause stretching unbearably long. His lips curled into a calculated smile. "It will come with a price."

Raelyn hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. "What price?"

The king's lips curled into a faint smirk. "When you find this weapon, you will bring it to Khazrundar. My smiths will study it thoroughly. In return, I will provide you with the knowledge you need to find it."

Her stomach twisted at the thought of handing over something so powerful, even temporarily. "And once your people have studied it?" she asked cautiously. "Will it be returned to us?"

The king tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "You have my word, human. The weapon will be returned to you once my craftsmen have learned its secrets."

Raelyn's mind raced. The king's word was binding, and yet the idea of leaving such a weapon in anyone's hands, even for a moment, was a risk. But what choice did they have? They needed the information. She glanced at her companions. Benji gave her a small nod, his expression filled with quiet encouragement. Hovan's face showed hesitance. Rakz growled softly at her side, as if sensing her struggle.

Finally, Raelyn squared her shoulders and met the king's gaze. "I agree to your terms," she said, her voice resolute. "But I will hold you to your word, Your Majesty."

The king's smirk widened, and he leaned back in his throne, his expression one of satisfaction. "Very well," he said. "You will be escorted to your lodgings. When the time comes, you will be summoned to our masons to receive the knowledge you seek."

Raelyn forced herself to bow her head slightly in thanks, though the act left a bitter taste in her mouth. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

The king waved a dismissive hand, and the dwarves who had escorted them stepped forward once more. "Take them out," he ordered. "We're done here."

As the group was led from the auditorium through a side door, Raelyn's mind churned with conflicting emotions. Relief at their progress warred with worry for Thomrik and unease about the king's motives. She glanced at her companions, each of them lost in their own thoughts. The weight of their mission loomed heavier than ever, but for now, at least, they had taken a step forward.