“You’ve come again, my disciple.” A voice came from beneath the hood.
“I’m not your disciple,” Hadjar snapped. “And I’m never going to become one.”
The Black General didn’t reply, still staring up at the sky.
“Do you know why I’m here?” Hadjar asked when the silence stretched on for far too long.
“To ask what my descendants are doing in the lands that now belong to the dwarves.”
“And?”
There was no reply again.
“Aren’t you going to answer me?” Hadjar frowned. “Well, in that case, I’m sorry to have disturbed you, I’ll-”
“You didn’t ask the question, my disciple.” The first Darkhan didn’t seem to care about all of Hadjar’s refusals, as he continued to call him his ‘disciple’ despite all his protests. “How can I answer you if you don’t ask me?”
Hadjar sighed. Sometimes, it w
