"You would share this knowledge then? Is it truly so important?" Alric cuts in, voice betraying nothing of what he thinks about your decision.
"Aye, as soon as I return to my workshop I open my doors to any Master who would wish to learn," you reply.
Whispers and grumbling grow louder and louder until one of the sitting Runelords addresses you openly.
"You overstep boy! Arrogance! Arrogance so blatant that it is like coal dust upon a bleached woollen shirt! It is an insult to put those Runes such as those alongside works far better made, they are the words of a fool! An up jumped Rune of Flame and a butchered Master Rune of Conduction are all I see!" a particularly aged Runelord, Thorek Stonefoot your mind helpfully supplies, shouts. Simultaneously rising from his chair and pointing a finger at the Master Rune of Forgeflame especially.
The shouting and grumbling reach new heights at his declaration, the floodgates opening as others pitch in their support and criticism in equal measure. For a while you stand there and stare at him, features revealing nothing outwardly while you fume in the confines of your own mind.
How
dare he? When have you ever shown yourself as the kind of glory-hungry fool he claims you to be? It is an insult of the highest order, one that strikes a nerve every dwarf possesses.
"I am
no fool Thorek Stonefoot! Nor am I some glory hungry half beard like you claim! The Runes you so deride exist whether we wish them to or not, and
I have found a use for them that has benefitted the Karaz Ankor while you twiddle about and settle for what you have been given like a beardling who knows no better! So close-minded are you that you see this Rune and can only compare it to that which you know instead of opening your eyes and mind to the possibilities and opportunities! The type of thinking you display is a disservice to this Guild, to this
Craft, and I will not stand idly by as you insult my honour and dismiss my work because you refuse to use that piece of mouldy chuf between your ears that you call a brain like any Runesmith
ought to!" You roar at him, voice carrying over the din.
A small part of you boggles at bringing up what is
proper for the Guild and art of Runesmithing when Thungni is literally meters away from you but is shouted down by the indignance of a Dwarf who has been wronged.
"You
dare claim such a thing against me?
" Thorek thunders back, fists curling and foot taking an aggressive step forwards.
"I speak no falsehood Stonefoot! Come down here and prove yourself right or take back your insult, I will not be cowed by your blustering!" you counter back heatedly.
"
Enough," a voice speaks, tone calm yet with an authority that is undeniable.
Thungni has not altered His position on His throne since this entire debacle began, but where before His presence was more akin to a clear summit it is now akin to a storm-ravaged peak. An aura of controlled power, held back by a will so titanic that it dwarfs the mountains themselves, that can nevertheless be felt and seen from kilometres around.
Many settle down, those standing returning to their seats while tempers are cooled by a sudden, ice-cold, deluge of shame and embarrassment.
"Enough," Thungni repeats, and those few stragglers rush to join their compatriots.
The Ancestor waits for a solid minute, eyes roving through the House and cowing any possible dissent. The loudest and most aggressive supporters and detractors, some who were Dwarfs over a millennium old, bow their heads like chastised beardlings when Thungni stares at them; their eyes unable to meet the Ancestor's for longer than a moment or two.
Then Thungni turns His imposing gaze down onto you.
Eyes, bluer than the richest sapphires and that occasionally twinkle with scintillating multihued light, bear down on you with only a fraction of the force a
Will older than many of the oldest Holds can bring to bear. A part of you quails in fear and terror, the rest are frozen in a state of shock and awe. It's as if you are a geode cracked open upon an anvil, inner thoughts laid bare beneath
that gaze.
You do not look away, and that is acknowledged.
After what feels like an eternity, they eventually look away and the rumbling voice begins again.
"Knowledge has been given freely and without insult intended. Take it or dismiss it at your own discretion, as has ever been your right. Snorri Klausson, Runelord of Kraka Drakk, have you any final remarks?" He says, looking at you expectantly.
"No Lord Ancestor."
"Have any within the House a question to ask Snorri, son of Klaus, Runelord of Kraka Drakk?"
A half-minute of silence meets the Ancestor. Meanwhile, you quietly pick up your papers, hand them to the aides and Reckoners who have scuttled in to bring the rest of your things away, then march back to your seat. Thungni turns away from you and addresses the entire room.
