733. Clearly Priced

The Dwarven Mountains.

In the study of Bretta Zafa, clan chief of the Zafa Clan, the fire in the hearth was burning bright.

Bretta Zafa leaned back in her chair, holding a theoretical proposal on the precise removal of mycelium with runes.

Suddenly, the door was knocked open, and a tiny figure rushed in wrapped in a gust of cold wind, his boots thudding across the floor.

"Grandma! Grandma!"

Bretta's brows had only just furrowed when they immediately relaxed again. She set the report on her lap and opened her arms toward the little dwarf who was throwing himself at her. Her grandson's reddish-brown hair stuck up in a wild mess, the tip of his nose was red from the cold, and his face was smeared with ash from who knew where. "Running that fast again. What if you fall?" Bretta gathered him into her arms, her rough fingers smoothing his tousled hair.

"I won't fall! I'm really strong now!" Her grandson struggled out of her arms and stood up straight. With a lift of his little hand, a ball of firelight lit up in his palm and floated unsteadily upward. "Look! I learned this today! Teacher said I'm improving the fastest!"

Bretta smiled. She reached out and stroked the top of her grandson's head. "Mm, Grandma saw. You learned very quickly. Better than Grandma was back then." Her grandson narrowed his eyes under her touch and went quiet for a moment, then suddenly looked up again.

"Grandma, Grandma," he said, his voice lowering a little, tinged with curiosity. "Do the clansmen parasitized by mycelium really all have their thoughts controlled?"

Bretta's smile froze on her face.

She opened her eyes, her hand still resting on her grandson's head.

"Tell Grandma," she said, deliberately keeping her voice steady, "who told