Tharvan
The throne room of the King's Keep was huge. It was so big, that when someone spoke, it was like a hundred other voices repeated everything, as if to mock. It didn't use to matter before. The room would always be full of people from every class, and for every reason. Some came to offer gifts, some to ask help in a time of hardship, some to get assistance against a certain group of bandits, and some some for more professional matters. Now, however the throne room was empty, dark and cold. No one came anymore to speak to the King, for there was no King, there was an Emperor.

Tharvan sat in his carved stone throne, his massive Dragon lying silently on the floor, not even moving a muscle. The great doors to the throne room opened, two guards pushed it just enough so a third soldier could fit in, after that, the doors were immediately shut again.
The soldier lowered to one knee, bowing as low as he could. Then he stood up and straightened himself.
"Emperor Tharvan, I come to you with many news. We have finally finished the manufacturing of the new fire dust weapons you asked for. We have two-hundred fully functional units with trained people to use them"
Tharvan suddenly interrupted:
"I want five hundred! Two hundred will be sent to the Ivory Gates, a hundred and fifty to HighHold and the rest will stay here, to be deployed later."
"Yes Emperor Tharvan. Understood. … We are also making good progress with the building of the new warships. We currently have twenty Leviathans and forty Gliders, with crew and weapons, ready to be deployed."
"What about the traitors?"
"Emperor Tharvan, the Northerners seem to have prepared their army. We have definitely seen elves amongst them as well. We still haven't seen any major groups marching out of Du Weldenvarden however, they are still cowering in fear, just like the Dwarves. None have been seen coming out of the Beors, we don't need to fear any attacks any time soon. However, we have gotten suspicious at the Narven in the Desert, they seem to be wanting to help the rebels. We are keeping an eye on them."
"Good… I want an army ready to march to Hrafn within the next three moons."
"Yes Emperor Tharvan!" The man bowed and turned to leave but stopped and turned as the Emperor spoke again.

"What about the new Allies….?"
The man paled and paused before talking again, swallowing hard before doing so.
"They are coming, emperor Tharvan. They will fight on our side"
The man bowed again and left, the door opened and shut again, leaving the throne room quiet and cold once again.

Gward Haeth, the capital of the Empire. A lively place to be sure, but that doesn't mean one can't sense a bit of fear among the people here. Then again, one can sense a bit of fear everywhere in the Empire, so it really wasn't that special. Fear of what? Fear of the Emperor. Fear of the power of a dragonrider. The kind of fear that warrants respect for the emperor, although not everyone felt the same. While many feared and respected the emperor, there were some just outright hated him. So much so that they even started a rebellion against him.

Actually, they might be interesting to work with. thought a man whose more noticeable clothes were a vest and a cap.

This man is Alvin Callaghan, or gentleman Jack in this case. This man is an assassin who lives a double-life to keep himself safe in the trade. When he's wanted for a job or is already on one, he dons a red cape and mask, and uses the name "Alvin Callaghan" to hide his appearance. But at the moment, he's not Alvin. Right now, he's "gentleman Jack", an amnesiac who travels the land, trying to regain his memory.

Firstly, I should locate an inn somewhere. Then I can figure out what to do later.

Farthen Dur, Belgol's home, was a spectacular city. The twisting passages, the deep mines, the great halls, and the majestic carvings all summed up to a veritable dwarven paradise. The only thing missing was the Isidar Mithrim, the Star Rose, unfortunately that particular piece of dwarven genius was located in Trojenheim. Belgol had heard tales of the Star Rose, but he had never gone for himself.

No, much better that he stay in Farthen Dur, where he knew what to do, and where to do it. If he were to go to Farthen Dur, he wouldn't know what to do. But then again, Belgol felt as if though it might be exciting to not know what to do. That thought was quickly banished, however. It had no right to be in a logical creatures mind; and Belgol was nothing if not logical.

All this went through the brown-haired dwarf's head as he shuffled through the halls of Farthen Dur, on the way back to his room. Upon arrival, Belgol sat down in his favorite armchair and opened his book, Ten Way to a Braver You. While self-help books were not very prevalent in Farthen Dur, Belgol had acquired one. He fully accepted that he wasn't the bravest dwarf, no he most certainly wasn't. However, Belgol was peculiar in the fact that he acknowledged his lack of courage, and had the resources to attempt to change that, but did nothing.

Interestingly enough, Belgol had read that book three times in the past, and he could recite every line of it. However, Belgol did nothing about his little problem, and so he was an outlier in the great set of courageous dwarves. He was complacent, and it would take a lot more then just Belgol, to make a courageous Belgol.