A Tent Beneath the Stars

[Riot 743]

Dorin Starbreaker had been on a simple mining run, his pockets heavy with stone dust and the quiet satisfaction of honest work, when he came upon a small tent pitched beside the road. It was unassuming—canvas worn thin, a little crooked from too many ***hts in the open—but beside it sat a pair of children gazing up at the sky as though it held every answer they’d ever need.

 

They greeted Dorin with easy smiles and laughter, speaking excitedly about the stars overhead. To them, each point of light was a story, a question, a promise. They spoke of Yemekar, not as a god of one people or place, but as a name given to the wonder that lived in the heavens themselves. They told Dorin that if he watched long enough, with patience and care, he might glimpse something of Yemekar’s form reflected among the stars.

 

Dorin listened, amused at first, then quietly moved. Stone and steel were things he understood, yet there was something honest in the way they spoke—no pride, no claim, only awe. In the name of Yemekar, they said, the stars could inspire anyone willing to look up. Dorin found himself wanting to see it too, not to claim it, but to give it a name worthy of respect—something he could one day share with his brothers as a story told over ale and firelight.

 

The children shyly asked if he might spare a few golden nuggets. Dorin dug into his pockets, sorting past ore and gravel, and offered what little gold he had on hand without hesitation. In return, they handed him a spyglass and several small glass bottles fitted with simple lenses. They showed him how to use them—how to focus, how to watch, how to capture light not as power, but as memory.

 

When Dorin continued down the road, the tent grew small behind him. Yet that night, when he stopped to rest and looked up, the stars felt closer than they ever had before—shining not for kings or gods alone, but for anyone willing to pause and wonder.

𝓐𝔃𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓷 𝓐𝓻𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓾𝓶

 

Spoiler

Unbeknownst to Dorin, from across the quiet riverbank, another pair of eyes had taken notice.

 

Ser Honeywine’s adopted daughter lingered at the water’s edge, half-hidden by reeds and moonlit grass. She did not interrupt, nor call out. Instead, she watched in silence as the dwarf knelt by the roadside tent, speaking softly with the children beneath the stars. She saw him reach into his pockets—still heavy from the day’s labor—and offer gold without ceremony, without expectation.

 

The river carried the sound of their laughter away before it could reach her, but the meaning was clear enough. When Dorin finally moved on and the tent grew small in the distance, she remained a moment longer, committing the scene to memory before turning back toward her own path, the starlight reflected quietly in the water between them.