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Over the course of his long life, Daro had naturally found plenty of opportunities to break from his norms. The recent news of human trafficking near Ridgemark, for example, had not come as much of a surprise. He’d seen it happening too many times over the last few decades.

It just never ended. Linus or Kristof or even Daro himself would ride over to the rumored region--sometimes quite far away from Ridgemark--and deal with the problem, only for it crop up again a year or two later.

Even the dysfunctional Vantalayan government had occasionally been their ally in such endeavors. There’d been times when, through such noble work, it had felt like the tension between the VMP and RPMP could potentially come to an end. That they could negotiate some sort of contract, perhaps, to preserve the peace of the nation.

And then, every time, something horrible would happen in that government. A public humiliation. A loss of confidence. An assassination. An entire regime change, even. And then all those prospects would dry up. Tension would return, greater than before.

Where was the land of his childhood? What had become of it? Even now, he did not understand why it had changed so much.

If anyone would understand, he knew these Rainlords would. Time and again throughout history, their land had been disputed. And now, again. At least Daro still had Ridgemark to call home.

So the temptation was certainly present to aid this poor man in front of him. To help Zeff Elroy in any way that he could think of.

But there were wrinkles. Big ones.

Axiolis had been right, of course. This workspace was but one of many. A lesser domain for less sensitive projects. And a serviceable decoy, besides.

Daro absolutely could not allow anyone to find his main project. Even his benefactor didn’t know what he was truly working on. All the things that he was providing for the RPMP, the weapons and armor and supplies--mere toys, in truth. Quick and dirty projects meant to appease. To keep eyes off of him while he continued his real work.

Not that it was near completion, of course. He didn’t know how many more years he might need in order to see it bear fruit. Gods, maybe it never would. That was always a possibility, now wasn’t it? Always the struggle when attempting to breach through the Veil into the unknown.