This is entirely long overdue.
Urist was sleeping, dreaming a happy dream for the first time in a long time. Everything was peaceful, and there was no war and death and destruction. Urist was pouring milk into goatskin, hanging it from a peg on a wooden wall in the dream home. He sighed contentedly, when suddenly a voice intruded, a familiar voice...
It was Hans. But how was Hans here? Hans was in... In Spearbreakers? What was going on?
"Urist. Wake up. We need to go see Splint."
Urist groaned, waving his hand at the unwanted voice, rolling to cover his face. This effort was wasted, the dream was already fleeing, receding into the blackness of his memory. Urist cracked open his bloodshot eyes, to see Hans standing beside his bed in the dim light of a candle. Hans had a haunted look on his face, and he was pale. Scared.
Urist struggled to sit up, trying to form a question, but Hans interrupted before Urist could say anything, "Right now, Urist. Hurry."
Urist's time in the war leant speed and clarity to him. His muscle memory forced him into immediate wakefulness at the note of urgency in Hans' voice. He stood, and pulled on a steel chain shirt as Hans was gathering a couple backpacks from the cabinet in the tiny room. Urist didn't try to question Hans anymore, instead concentrating on putting on some armor and gathering whatever he might need.
Finally, they had two backpacks readied, and Urist wore his armor once more. They jogged through the halls of Spearbreakers, passing early risers and late nighters alike. They reached the rooms of Count Splint, as he had recently been dubbed, to see three armed guards before his door.
They all had heavy pitcheblende hammers, and wore minimal armor at the moment. They chatted idly, then spotted Urist and Hans, and stood at stiff attention. A fiery looking redhead said, "Who goes there?" Her shadow flickered oddly in the torchlight, like there was someone standing behind her trying to imitate her movements but they weren't quite fast enough.
Urist spoke up, "I am the military liason Urist Okablokum, sent here by Baron L-"
The redhead nodded when he said military liason and roughly said, "Go in. No trouble, or we'll thump ya. Hurry it up."
Hans shrugged, and they strode through the big double doors. Splint was, once more, seated at his desk. Its usual assortment of papers and forms was somewhat neatly ordered this time, and there were no broken mug shards at the base of any of the walls. It must be a good day for the Count, Urist thought to himself.
Splint flicked his eyes up at them briefly, then said, "Right. I've got things to do today, so I'm going to be quick with you lot. You," He pointed a finger idly at Urist, "Are overdue to report back to your master. You," His finger changed targets to Hans, "Are going with him, or we risk angering our... New allies."
Urist and Hans shared a glance, and Hans said, "Allies? The humans?"
Splint nodded, still studying his forms, "Of a sort, yes. You've... Met them before, so I'm informed by Mr Frog. And if they were to find you, or your little elven friend, then there would be some significant censure in order."
Hans gave Splint a blank look, and repeated, "Censure?"
Splint sighed, "They would shoot you. With these... Guns I've heard so much about. It's all slightly out of my depth, but I need their help, and you can complete your mission. Two crundles with one ballista bolt. Get out, go home, take the slow one with you. And," Splint looked up, a sudden, ferocious light in his eyes, "Do not come back for at least a year. I'm warning you."
Fischer stepped out from behind a zinc pillar, her pike in hand, a feral grin on her face, "And I'm warning you too, boys. We've still got some issues to settle, remember?"
Urist shuddered as he remember the vicious beating she'd given him, and nodded at Splint reluctantly, "But we can come back when the year has elapsed? Right?"
Splint shrugged, "If Reudh agrees to it, and the humans are gone, then I don't see why not. But I really need you to go. Right now. Their representative will be here in minutes. Fischer will escort you to the border."
The two dwarves turned wordlessly, and strode from the room, their gait tense and angry. They walked in silence with the Champion to the edge of what was considered Spearbreakers territory, and Fischer saw them off silently, grimly.
Urist and Hans were now in exile from their own home, cast out by the very authorities they had dedicated themselves to serving.