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“What about the Thorns blockade of Miletus’ Glory?”

Guur shrugged. “We didn’t have a port before. We don’t have a port now. They’ve learned to stay out of catapult range, which means they’ve never tried to land troops.”

He unfurled a map, but it had the Twelve Daggers in the wrong places relative to each other, which was an indicator of how far we should trust it. “We have mountaineers skirmishing with their mountaineers, but for the most part, it’s nothing organized. It’s more like high altitude survival training with another tribe out there also trying to survive.”

“As you can see,” he said, “They don’t have enough remaining woodlands to build the ships they need to invade us from the sea. So unless they plan on swimming in heavy armor, they literally can’t invade us without giving us a week’s warning, possibly two, by coming around the mountains.”

“Do we have trained scouts among their number?” I asked.

Guur chuckled. “Each of them is a trained Scout or Hunter, in addition to other classes.”

“Okay, then alert them that they may be looking for a mine shaft dug into their side of the Daggers, one that may have less stone coming out than would normally be expected.”

“Haha, what madness do you expect from them?”

.....

“They have acid.” I said. “Acid dissolves rock, given enough acid and enough time. I envision a highway burned through the mountain, three or four carts wide, with enough vertical clearance to allow the tallest of their troops to march through without ducking. They’ve had three years to realize this, and to make the acid, and to begin the digging operation.”

“It seems highly unlikely.” Guur said.

“I was worried that I’d arrive to find them already through the daggers.”

“What you worry about would take far too much effort, and too many of their resources. For all the wonders it works, acid is not magic.”

“As I said, it is a matter of time, and resources, both of which they have.”

Guur blew his nose into a placemat. “And such an action would be tantamount to war. We’d crush them, and take their armor for ourselves. Actually, their side of the Daggers is rich with metal. I hope they do attack us; we could use those mines.”

“Either we’re fighting the centaurs with the Thorns at our back, or we’re fighting the Thorns with the centaurs at our back.” I said. “Neither is a fight I’d want to lead troops into.”

“Heh, look who thinks he’s going to lead troops.” Guur said, and burst out laughing.

“Well, what is my position in this war?” I asked. “I had envisioned myself as Rakkal’s shield, but...”

Guur couldn’t stop laughing, and had to blow his nose again. “Please. Please stop. My brother sees something of value in you, and little sense for the value of coin. Did you not truly do your best to kill him?”

“I did.” I said. “I employed the best heroes that I could, in an attempt to put an end to him.”

“You came close, and he respects that.” Guur said, “But you came close, and I will not assist you in getting within striking range of him.”

He said this in an amused way; it’s something in minotaur culture that loosely translates “the butting of heads”. Basically, two men from different tribes meeting each other slam their foreheads together, and if neither one flinches, then they are equals. Female minotaurs compare beadwork, or sewing, or sometimes even cooking ability.

“Tell me about Hortiluk; what has he been up to in the plains?” I asked

“Be careful how you speak to your elders, boy. I may have no middle body strength, but I’ve enough remaining to ensure you don’t see your ... is it your fifth birthday?”

“My System is all manner of gunked up; I honestly think it’s only my fourth. But I was gone for three years, wasn’t I?”

“Hortiluk is Hortiluk. He dances on the razor edge between needed dissidence and traitorous rebellion, always shying away from physical conflict with my brother. He calls himself shrewd, a genius. I call him coward.”

“What do you call me?”

“I don’t. When you left, you were my brother’s pet. Would it surprise you that I had a dream about you, suggesting that you are more deadly than you have any right to be?”

I shrugged. “You’ve never struck me as the oracular type.”

“Some dreams are dreams; some dreams are instead, prophecy. It is a matter of Wisdom to tell the two apart.”

“Gyah.” I said, rubbing the ear on that side of my head.

“Oho? Wisdom.”

“Stop that. My System has me tasting colors. I can hear the capital letter in that word.”

“How have you managed to break a System?” Guur chuckled. “Although I shouldn’t be surprised that you, of all beings managed it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re going to sit there with a missing eyeball and half your scales cut, and ask me that?”

I suppose he had a point, even if he was exaggerating damage to my scales.

“Given enough food, I’ll heal just fine.”

“Have you ever been disemboweled?” he asked.

“Plains cat.” I said. “I made a full recovery.”

“Well, go get screwed by a porcupine.” he said. “It’s far too early to be as drunk as I needed to be to hear that.”

“So, the most dangerous threat facing the Empire is the war in the plains?”

“A war I counseled my brother against, and you made possible, and Hortiluk has thoroughly botched. How he plans to stay in power after Rakkal wins is anyone’s guess.”

“He still tries to move the capitol to Rakkal’s Glory?” I asked.

“I’m not certain he ever tried, not seriously. I think it is meant as a distraction, although I cannot say what he is trying to distract us from. Whatever it is, his military is not particularly strong, not in numbers nor in skill. Once, he tried to horde acid from that ... factory... that you helped to build, but he immediately stopped when asked.”

I sighed, shook my head. “I gained a class getting that thing up and working. I’ve hardly used it since then, save for the acid resistance.”

“So. Three years. Are you resistant to everything, yet?”

“I find everything to be far too inclusive. But it is amazing, the things that nature has evolved.”

“Ho? Please, do tell. And demonstrate, if it does no damage. Especially to the plates. I am told that the more fragile a plate is, the more it is worth in market. Yet the staff will not let me sell these plates and get properly durable ones.”

“I’ve not evolved anything that looks fascinating.” I said. “I could scratch my chin with my foot, for example, but that is nothing.”

“Truly? I have heard that you are swimming at a speed equal to that of the fastest of sea creatures.”

“Ha.” I said. “When we have a battle that features a river, that may come in useful.”

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure how much you’d still look like you, all things considered. You have grown, and I can see the extra muscles in your neck and arms. I hear you eat like a real man, are you as strong, yet?”

“No, although I am closer. My Might is now rating 5, with a rating 6 in raw Strength. Honestly, I’m just glad to have eighty health.”

“Wait until you reach a hundred twenty, then. High health, high armor rating. If you want assurances at a long life, I know of no better way to achieve it.” He swirled a goblet. “And the side benefits of Might are not to be ignored. Healing, for example, is tied to Might.”

“I would think Valor is a close second, for the number and severity of criticals.”

“Oho? Then you have changed, Black-Eyes. You used to claim it was Insight, and the sharper senses it provides, that were key to a long life.”

It was my turn to chuckle. “There are some things you simply cannot avoid, no matter how far out you notice them coming.”

“Yes.” he said. “Life provides us with many things we cannot avoid, death being foremost among them.”

I shifted in my chair. “Are you close to death, mighty Guur?”

He burst out in laughter. “Ah, little one. No, no, nothing like that. I mean that of your five companions, two are dead and one... has chosen a daunting if rewarding career.”

“I... have been too busy to process that. Honestly, I’m not expecting that to be bad. My life has been full of such incidents.”

Eihtfuhr, for example.

“Honestly, I’m surprised that Gamilla’s defection merits so little mention.”

Guur shrugged. “As a race, hobgoblins tend to serve themselves above others. The one who might be upset is Hortiluk, for she was his agent. Although, I am not certain that he doesn’t now have an agent in the payroll of a dragon.”

“You think that likely?” I asked.

“If mere mortals can do such things, Hortiluk has the ego to attempt it.”

This tidbit of minotaur culture was provided by Uma, who herself prefers to butt heads.