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When Leaf and Walter pushed through the intertwined limbs of two close-set trees, any surprise they might have felt at finding a military field camp still in different stages of assembly was masked by their fatigue and the various organic substances coating their faces as well as most of the rest of their bodies and clothes.

Despite their training and not inconsequential expedition and combat experience, the two sentinels standing near a small fire that had not yet fully caught exhibited more visible astonishment than the pair that emerged from the trees near them. That astonishment registered in stages, as the soldiers first felt surprise and a jolt of adrenaline in unexpectedly facing anyone at all in their remote and only recently occupied location and then in recognizing Silver Leaf—the confidant, companion, and protector of Thhia's leader Dusk and her sister Dawn—with hairless scalp and covered from head to boot in every manner of filth. Behind her trailed a beleaguered halfling who was equally filthy, save for his head, which was slightly less soiled beneath the protection of a bee veil. In his right hand, he gripped a spatula tightly.

"The Commander?" Leaf said to them, her voice as tired as she and the halfling appeared.

One of the soldiers saluted while the other pointed down an aisle between tents toward the distant center of the camp. Leaf nodded and started in the direction indicated. The guards' eyes followed her and the halfling until they were lost from sight between the tents and the trees that were interspersed throughout. They then looked at each other, found nothing to say that would have an answer, and turned back to their post, only to find a black and green hummingbird darting toward them. The tiny bird drew up just short of where they stood, shifted quickly to the right, and then shot between them into the camp. The guards did not even exchange a questioning glance this time and continued facing the trees with a renewed purpose, if also increased discomfort.

A radius of reduced productivity accompanied Leaf and Walter's progression through the camp, with occasional salutes added by those better able to overcome their surprise and curiosity. As they approached a particularly large tent, Walter heard Leaf say under her breath, "Predictably unfortunate," before coming to a halt.

"Këyvf," Leaf said to a towering soldier who stood in front of the tent's closed flaps. Walter shifted his weight to better see the soldier and found that her appearance reminded her of Reeve's character, but with fewer recognizably human features and more scars. She wore complicated, multi-part black armor that brought to mind for Walter both a cast iron stove and the chain curtain that hung inside the glass doors of the Williams' fireplace back IRL. Angled across her back and rising above one shoulder hung a weapon that might have been twice Walter's height. The bottom handle-dy part was straight, but the upper part reminded Walter of an elongated question mark in a way distinct from the curving piece of wood that had been held by one of their recent woodland assailants. The metal of the weapon gleamed bluish-silver.

"Like how you look," Këyvf said to Leaf.

Walter had a sense that Këyvf was amused, but he wasn't sure he could read her features reliably.

"I am most certain you do," Leaf said.

"You cut off ugly hair," Këyvf said. "Was always too much of it."

"No, someone took matters into their own hands, as it were."

"A shame," Këyvf said. "They beat me to it." Këyvf leaned forward, her look of amusement shifting to appear more questioning. She reached towards Leaf's ear, and the elf did not move, despite Këyvf's face being within inches. Këyvf's hand dipped down, and from the hood of Leaf's cloak pulled what looked to Walter like a large, half-crushed, rotten tomato. "Food from your march?" Këyvf said. "We just finished long march ourselves. Food was short, but we never ate garbage."

"A gift from some less-than-welcoming locals," Leaf said. "They should not be bothering us or other travelers again, I do hope." She looked down at Walter, who raised his spatula to the brim of his bee veil and gave a rough salute. Leaf looked back at Këyvf. "Now, as much as I would enjoy plumbing the very real depths of my current appearance, I must speak with Thoman. Immediately."

"I ask if he wants to see you." Këyvf tossed the rotten fruit nearly vertically, and then she and Leaf exchanged icy stares until the object landed back in Leaf's hood with a squishing sound. "Wait." Këyvf turned, pushed aside one flap, and ducked into the tent.

Leaf turned to find Walter looking at her and shook her head in response to the unspoken question. "We have history, you might say. Though, in truth, it is my kin and her kin that have history of any import. But, since we first crossed paths, Këyvf has been all too willing to bear the standard for her people, however much I tire of it."

The flap was pushed open and Këyvf stepped back out. "Don't waste his time."

Leaf started to duck in through the opening, but Walter caught her hand. He tugged at the edge of his bee veil and tilted his head in the direction they'd been walking before finding Thomanji'yheri's tent, which he hoped was also the direction in which Deilmarkt lay.

Leaf nodded. "Këyvf should be able to tell you where to go. Better you ask her than me, if you want a useful response." She ducked through the retracted flap, which fell closed behind her.

Walter looked up at the towering guard and cleared his throat. "I was hoping to find a blacksmith, if there is one in town. The town is near here, y—"

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Këyvf dropped to a deep squat, her eyes only slightly higher than Walter's. She squinted at him with an intensity that caused Walter to clear his throat again.

"I not notice before, but you not too bad. For halfling." She grasped the front of the veil's brim and tilted it up slightly to look at Walter more closely.

"Um…well, thank you, Keev, is it?"

Këyvf nodded once and released the brim of the veil. "What need you with blacksmith?"

"Well, you see," Walter straightened his bee veil, "I happen to be an Apiculturist by training, and I recently was parted from my bee smoker. I'd very much like to procure a new one, if—" Këyvf frowned at him, and even the mild expression of displeasure silenced Walter and caused him to squirm uncomfortably while also thinking that he was very grateful they were on the same side. At least, he thought they were on the same side.

"This weapon, or something else, like tool?" Këyvf said.

"Well, due to some innovation on my part, a bit of both."

Këyvf nodded once, lay her huge hand on Walter's shoulder, grasped the storm cape of his duster that lay there, and stood, lifting Walter to hang from his shoulder by her side. Këyvf whistled one sharp note through her front teeth, and two guards, each of whom had been standing at opposing adjacent corners of the command tent, strode toward her. Both appeared to Walter to be vaguely human, but with differences in features he had trouble identifying, and he guessed that one was female and the other male. They wore armor similar to Këyvf's, but that struck Walter as less impressive in appearance, though he did not know if that was due to the armor itself or the stature of the ones wearing it.

As Këyvf gave the guards a few short commands laced with military jargon Walter couldn't quite follow, he stared at the front of the tent from where he hung suspended next to Këyvf. After her directive, one guard asked a question of clarification, to which Këyvf began to respond, and as she did Walter thought for a moment that he'd accidentally activated his UI, because something flitted at the edge of his vision, but instead of a panels of text, a black and green hummingbird moved into view and then darted through the tent flap where it lay not quite flush. Këyvf turned, and Walter's amusement at the curious sight was replaced by the immediacy of odd, hip-side suspended transport through the camp. Këyvf strode quickly, and Walter found himself being swung back and forth at her side in a way that reminded him of a prop briefcase in the hand of an actor in a musical with a light step on the verge of dancing. Walter chuckled, imagining Këyvf in a black and white musical.

Soldiers crossing their path gave them a wide berth, which Walter assumed at first was due to intimidation or fear, but after having the opportunity to see enough of the expressions on passing faces and the accompanying salutes, he started thinking it more likely to be from respect. As they turned a corner, Walter mustered enough nerve to ask, "We are going to a blacksmith, yes?"

"Camp smith. Better than town smith for weapons."

Walter liked the sound of being escorted to the area's best blacksmith but felt some concern that Këyvf might not have fully understood the nature of his needs and hoped that the camp smith was familiar with the finer points of apicultural tools.

Këyvf took a sudden turn into an open-faced tent, and Walter was swung forward and deposited on a workbench. As Këyvf released him, he found himself with unsure footing and looked down at a row of aligned blades across the flats of which his feet were resting. Walter decided that, tough halfling soles or not, he best remain still and not risk a cut.

"Heyo, Këyvf," a ruddy voice called from their left. "You 'aven't knicked your khopesh on another skull already, 'ave ya?"

Walter pulled his gaze from his precarious perch and took in the camp's mobile smithery. A sweating giant of a creature—possibly a giant, Walter still hadn't gotten to know all of the names of the various inhabitants of this world—was working a huge bellows, and next to him, wielding tongs and a hammer, was a short dwarf who reminded Walter of the first character Wanda had inhabited during their original forray. The dwarf handed the tongs off to her assistant, laid the hammer on an anvil near the furnace, and walked to meet them.

"Khopesh fine," Këyvf said and shrugged one shoulder, causing the weapon across her back to rise and fall behind her. "No skulls to split lately." She jerked her jaw toward Walter. "Grubby halfing has job for you."

The dwarf's gaze slid to Walter. After taking in his veiled face, it moved over his filth-strewn duster. She looked back to Këyvf. "Are we now equipping anyone who walks in off the street? Send him to Deilmarkt. Roskin does a passable job. I've given him some tips when next we're furloughed." She looked back at Walter. "But this…" She reached for his spatula.

With barely a thought, Walter twisted his wrist and parried her hand gently but firmly to the side. Walter met the dwarf's eyes, and they stood there for a moment, almost holding hands save for the spatula between them.

"I was going to say," the dwarf continued, "that this looks almost like the Commander's work. I think I was right."

Being unsure as to the correct etiquette for extricating himself from their awkward position, Walter continued to hold the dwarf's hand aside with the spatula. "I," he said, "have indeed had the pleasure of Tom's company during both pleasant and more trying circumstances. And he is in fact the artisan who crafted this fine…" It had taken him a few seconds longer than it might have Reeve, but Walter's words trailed off as he finally registered the change in the dwarf's expression. "Ah," he said.

Eyes wide, face alive with emotion barely in check, the dwarf stepped back and did a half bow. "My apologies. I should have known. Certainly, you are the Wurmslayer, Walter, father of Reeve, who helped deliver us from the perils wrought by Helia before disappearing for the better part of this dying decade."

"Well," Walter said, removing his veil and stowing it in his Inventory before making an attempt at straightening his sticky, matted hair, "that's very kind and, I have to admit, flatters me." Feeling slightly embarrased under the dwarf's continued attention, he swung his spatula back into his Inventory, attempted to wipe his hand on the side of his duster—which might only have transferred unsavory material back and forth between the two equally soiled surfaces—and offered his hand to the dwarf. "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."

The dwarf grasped the forearm of Walter's duster firmly, which produced a sucking, squishing sound as she squeezed. "It is of little import, Wurmslayer, but I am Thoolia'fuori, daughter of Ingalia'fuori, at your service."

Walter stared at Thoolia'fuori with clear concern.

"You may call me Thoolia."

"Toolya?"

"That will do."

"Thank you, Toolya. It's a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine, Wurmslayer. Këyvf, why didn't you tell me of our esteemed guest from the outset?"

Këyvf shrugged. "Didn't know. Just liked looks."

Thoolia nodded understandingly. "Now, Wurmslayer. Tell me of the job you bring me."