Boarface Bristlebrush, gravely wounded in the latest adventure beneath the Chateau, reclines amidst the ruins of the old watchtower. The bird in his beard is singing to avian cousins somewhere in the trees outside. It is chilly and wet, but Boarface is inured to such things. He sips some herbal tea given him by his compatriots and looks out through the gaps in the walls into the gray evening.
The strange dwarves from beneath the Chateau, Gathring and Odd, approach him. They sit on a nearby chunk of rubble. Their expressions show signs of unhappiness and worry. "Boarface," says Gathring. "I know you're not at your best right now, and I'm sorry. But we need to talk." He clenches his jaw. "I guess this is what's been going on these last few weeks, with all those private conversations we've been shut out of, and all that strange behavior. You were plotting against Evangelista — someone who treated us decently, who you came to some sort of agreement with. And now we —"
"Gathring and I," adds Odd helpfully.
"Yes. Now Odd and I are stuck in the middle." He shakes his head. "We introduced you people to her. We vouched for you. It's our necks under the wedge here. We would have gone to Rusty —"
"Oh, Rusty!" Odd tugs unhappily at his hair and beard.
"— but he's gone now. So we're turning to you, as a brother dwarf. Please, tell us what's going on. What happens now? What are we to do?"