《New Magic Brothers (Side-Story): A State-Builder and The History of Aclima》


 Preface: A State-Builder and The History of Aclima

    <h2>Preface</h2>


    This started initially as interludes for the first book, but I''ve now decided to compile all the interludes about Evenin of Redratall into one smallish book of some ~50000 words total.


    The book is very different, in all sorts of ways, from what you''ve read in the main series</a>. It follows a very different character, while the purpose of the book is less about telling the story of this individual, than it is to show you the reader, through the eyes of this dwarf, Evenin of Redratall, what Aclima actually is, and how it came to be what it is today in the main story.


    If you like world-building and backstories, this is a must read.


    <h2>The (Side-)Story</h2>


    East of Ermos, beyond The Giant Forest of Melrum, lies the peaceful and prosperous Young Mountains. Home to several dwarven republics, some dwarven clans, and a few dwarven petty kingdoms, the ongoings of The Young Mountains, also known as The Dwarven States, is relatively shielded from the turmoil to their west. No dungeon lords have ever set foot here, and no wars have been fought for a long time.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Among this peace and tranquility lies the small, and slightly poor, Republic of Redratall.


    Within the mountain capital of Redratall, Evenin, the daughter of the prime minister, gets an exclusive and personal education from a young age. Her father wants her to join politics, like himself. With her life set up for success in the political sphere, Evenin does indeed follow into her father''s footstep, but not quite in the way anyone would''ve suspected.


    For this little backwater girl, will end up at the crux of a world in motion, a world torn apart, and her actions will cast a reverberent echo for the world to come.


    <h2>Remember, it''s always free</h2>


    This work is always completely free of charge, and so, if you don''t like Royal Road''s user interface, you can also download free pdfs of the books below. The links are updated frequently to keep up with the latest additions and improvements, so keep checking back if you want to have the latest versions on hand.


    <ul>


    <li> Book 1: A scholar and a tattoo artist walks into a tavern...</a></li>


    <li> Book 2: Greatest Gayest Magic</a></li>


    <li>Side-Story: A State-Builder and The History of Aclima</a></li>


    </ul>


    Happy Continued Reading! ??

 Ch. 1: On The Origins of The Celestial and The Magick

    ¡°Tardom!¡± Prime Minister Ederfar yelled, the dwarf¡¯s thick muscles pushing open the heavy double doors into The State Library. ¡°It is time! Remember your promise? I provide you with refuge, and you become the tutor of my daughter when she is of age to learn what you write. Well, the time has come! She turned ten years a month ago; it is time she learned the history of the world.¡±


    Tardom, a hunched grey-haired elderly dwarf, supported by a thick walking stick, and with glasses on his nose, turned around with difficulty from a bookshelf he¡¯d been browsing. He gazed at the determined expression of the Prime Minister. ¡°Your... daughter?¡± Tardom began, as if having difficulty remembering there was such an individual in the subterranean mountain keep of the capital of Redratall.


    ¡°Yes, my daughter. For two years I¡¯ve kept you and your books safe here in the keep ¨C safe from the lords whose honor you insulted with your unflattering accounts. You¡¯ve eaten our food, enjoyed The State Library, and slept in our soft beds. It is time to pay back with what you promised!¡±


    With visible effort, Tardom took a couple of step forwards, heavily relying on his walking stick for balance. ¡°You say I made you a promise?¡±


    Standing just inside the door, Ederfar raised an eyebrow. ¡°You are old Tardom, but I¡¯ve not heard your memory become so poor yet you cannot recall something so important. And this promise was of importance, if not for my immediate benefits, then for your honor.¡±


    Tardom looked out into the blue for a moment, gliding a thinking thumb across cracked dry lips. ¡°Hmm. Yes, I do recall saying something along these lines. I was drunk too at the time, if I recall correctly.¡± Tardom paused for brief moment, and Ederfar had slight look of dismay. ¡°But! I will not go back on that promise. It is as you say: I owe you. Though I regret I have so little time these days. This dwarf is feeling the end of life approaching, yet his work has at least two more books that needs writing, and there are not much I can produce these days with this mind of mine getting older by the days. I¡¯m not as good as I used to be.¡±


    The Prime Minister nodded, but kept a firm expression. ¡°Then use what moments you have left on my daughter. One day, she may follow in my footsteps. To become a minister, or a diplomat perhaps?¡± Prime Minister Ederfar stroked a long thick well-combed dwarven beard, while briefly looking into the blue, as if disappearing into the future. ¡°Either way she will need to know much by then. You are the only one who has thoroughly collected this history of our world, so you are the only one who can teach it ¨C as it should be taught. If my daughter becomes a great minister because of your works, then perhaps more people will read them as well. And some day, someone might even finish them, even if you don¡¯t find the time for it now.¡±


    Tardom looked down at the floor. His face was sad. He had realized that maybe there was not enough of him left to write the books, and he was afraid that nobody would continue his project once he was dead ¨C all alone here, in the refuge of the little prime minister, in his little known and small Republic of Redratall. But to be reminded of it, this made the prospect feel so much more real. After a moment Tardom gulped, suppressing his sadness. ¡°When do I start Prime Minister?¡±


    ¡°Now¡± Ederfar responded, and turned halfway, pointing his right hand out of the open library doors.


    Tardom and Ederfar walked together, the prime minister supporting the old dwarf by letting him grip his forearm. Neither of them said a word as they passed along stone corridors, up stone stairs, and into the broad corridor of The Prime Minister¡¯s Quarters, among which were bedrooms, a playroom and two study rooms; one for the prime minister, and one for his family to share. Stepping into the shared study, Tardom and Ederfar were met by the prime minister¡¯s young daughter Evenin, her nanny, and a robed young adult dwarf that Tardom had never seen before. There was a desk there and two chairs, one occupied by the daughter, and one free, likely reserved for Tardom himself. He went over to the desk, and sat in the chair, gesturing curiously at the robed dwarf. ¡°Who is he?¡±


    ¡°Your assistant.¡± The prime minister responded. ¡°We can¡¯t expect you to walk around teaching like that¡± and he gestured at the walking stick, ¡°so your assistant will fetch things for you.¡±


    Tardom nodded, and smiled weakly, glad that this challenge had been addressed. He looked over at the girl. The girl tried to meet his gaze but failed, and instead looked everywhere else at and around the old dwarf except for his eyes. ¡°Are you ready, Evenin?¡± Tardom asked, somewhat hoarsely. ¡°To learn about the history of the world?¡±


    She looked down, mumbling: ¡°Yes¡±. The prime minister¡¯s daughter wore a simple luxurious attire of shirt, pants and practical shoes. All made of the finest material of course, but nothing too fancy. Her hair was long, black and with braids. She kicked around with her legs, showing she was probably bored, and maybe a little uncomfortable at facing a new authority in her life.


    ¡°Well, you already know each other, and you¡¯ve began talking, so I think me and the nanny can leave you three to the education now.¡± Prime Minister Ederfar turned around, and walked out. The nanny quickly followed, closing the door behind them.


    Tardom looked at the robed assistant. ¡°What is your name?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Ord, Great Scholar¡± Tardom smiled, amused at the honorific.


    ¡°Ord, can you go get my first work: On The Origins of The Celestial and The Magick?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Great Scholar¡± Ord replied, and nodded, before hurrying over to the door, closing it behind himself as he disappeared.


    ¡°We¡¯ve met before, girl, but we haven¡¯t talked. Not really. What have your father told you about me?¡±


    Evenin took a few seconds to respond. She still didn¡¯t meet Tardom¡¯s eyes, but she was able to form sentences: ¡°That you ran away from great uncle Ruffaring. That you needed to stay here, else mad dwarves would come and take you.¡±


    Tardom nodded. ¡°Do you know why these mad dwarves want so much, to do me evil?¡±


    Evenin shook her head, briefly meeting his gaze.


    ¡°It¡¯s because a scholar, especially a scholar of history, must follow every trail. Seek out every source, and discover the truth of our common history. Many people do not like to be reminded it: when history tells us that someone we like might have done bad things. Unfortunately, they do not understand that history is something we need to know so that we may not repeat what we have done wrong, and so that in bad times, we may know what to try differently. To them history is just a story. And they want ¨C and they want badly ¨C that the story about them is just a flattering one. A story about heroism: goods deeds, flawless character and successes. The first lesson I have for you Prime Minister¡¯s Daughter Evenin, is that history is not merely a story. It is a special kind of story, in which we search for the lessons, made of our collective experiences, that will inspire our betterment. Better judgement and better knowledge. These two are the fruits of the special story of a well-made history.¡±


    Evenin said nothing, she just glanced shyly over at Tardom. He however was patient, and waited for his new assistant to return, making for an awkward silence of a few minutes for Evenin, and an almost sitting nap for Tardom who closed eyes. He had achieved a great tolerance over the years for everything boring, the recipe for which was tactical napping.


    When Ord eventually pushed the door open, carrying a large weighty book in his hands and nearly slamming it on the desk in front of Tardom, the old dwarf¡¯s eyes shut open and he peered over at the noise. Seeing the book, his expression changed from mild disturbance to warmth: ¡°Oh, there it is. The first book that I wrote, nearly a hundred years ago now.¡± He stroked the brown leather cover fondly. There was a golden engraving of a tall mountain on it. Beneath the engraving read the title, in large letters: On The Origins of The Celestial and The Magick.


    Tardom flipped the book open, giving the curious face of Evenin a glance, before his eyes and index finger nostalgically went down into the book, where he read out loud softly, from his own inked lines: ¡°There are few things more covered in mystery, more shrouded in legends and myths, and spoken about like mere stories, than the origins of The Celestial People and their Magick, whose wonders form The World of Aclima. The Celestial Magick judge the character of every being in our world, and tie us all together in its fantastic webbings. Scholars are still uncovering and debating what possibilities and what mysterious The Celestial People gave us, before they, as is believed; left us behind, and secluded themselves in their Celestial Domains. It is no doubt we have much yet to learn about The Magick they left us. But perhaps the question that should be asked, and which has yet to be forcefully investigated by the Scholars, is this: How did we end up here? Shall we let but legends and myths determine our past? Or should we take up the task to find out? To separate fact from fiction, that which can be known, from that which can merely be speculated? These questions, of how The Magick came about and from where it came, and who The Celestial People are, and where they came from ¨C these are questions that constitute the foundations of this book. These are the questions that BURNED in my soul as I spent 30 years investigating the origins of the world in which we live ¨C The Origins of The Celestial and The Magick.¡±


    Tardom stopped reading. For a moment he just smiled, happy to be back in the memories of his past days, when he had the energy to write everything that needed writing. To travel deserts, pass through mountains, track through forests, to find out that which needed knowing. Tardom¡¯s face blushed with the beginnings of sorrow, and he nodded emotionally at his own text, vulnerable to its powerful nostalgia.


    ¡°So¡± Evenin suddenly inserted, catching Tardom¡¯s absentmindedness by surprise. He looked up at her, expectantly. ¡°You wrote that?¡±


    The heavier feelings left Tardom, and he gave a little smile. ¡°Yes, I did. In my younger days.¡±


    Evenin looked at Tardom for a moment, while his own eyes fell upon the text again, and his mind began moving back towards the nostalgia. ¡°The book is big¡± she blurted.


    Tardom chuckled and looked up again. ¡°Yes¡± he simply responded, smiling bigger now.


    ¡°What did you find out?¡± Something had changed in her. She was able to give full eye-contact now. Is she curious? Tardom wondered, and those thoughts made his smile stay on his face. I might come to enjoy being this one¡¯s tutor.


    ¡°I found out...¡± Tardom paused. He looked down at his book again, stroking it thinkingly. After a couple of seconds he grabbed its pages and started flipping chunks of paper over, looking for a section. He mumbled as he flipped: ¡°Hmm, Problems with Myths and Legends, Method of Investigation, Investigated Clues and Theories, Foundational Findings, The Beginnings of Magick ¨C ah, yes, here.¡± He stopped flipping. ¡°Are you ready to hear what I found out?¡±


    She nodded, eagerly, even leaning over towards the desk, her chair not quite reaching it though. Seeing this, the assistant strode in and grabbed her chair, pushing it with Evenin on top closer to the desk. Tardom nodded approvingly at Ord, then gave the girl a quick look, before he fell into the text again: ¡°In a time, about 8600 years ago estimations show, in a land far to the south known as Adalwey, there lived an individual. A human or an elf freed from clanship, we do not know which. All we can know with some certainty is that this individual ¨C only known to us now as The Zer ¨C was fond of travels and lived to learn. We articulate The Zer as ze, as we do zes closest followers and those that came after. A tradition which has survived today among those who still know the story, and rever its meaning. Talking with these revering people, one is quickly wanting to know the answer to these questions: Did The Zer make the first Magick? Did The Zer invent Magick? It seems doubtful, but it does seem likely that The Zer, together with the ancient Scholars of The Zer¡¯s time, managed to unravel the key to communicating with The Ethereal. That space of Magick, which we today know so well as the hidden and mysterious world of Mana. The Ethereal, in front of our eyes, yet we cannot see it, we only know it through the workings of The Magick; a world within which none may visit, only speak they say, and receive answers of magic, manifesting in our own world. It was The Zer and zes followers who first mastered The Magick, we believe, and with it hoarded the resources to create The City of Ages, which today is only known as the well kept ruins upon the side of The Sanctuary Mountain. Evidence suggests this City of Ages was a City of The Scholars, a refuge and a haven for those who sought to know the mystical arts believed to give access to The Ethereal, to the world of Mana.¡±


    Tardom rose up from the text, and looked over at Ord: ¡°Can I ask you to get some water for me? My throat¡¯s a bit dry.¡± Ord nodded subserviently and then walked out of the room with speed. Tardom met the curious gaze of Evenin: ¡°Is there anything which might¡¯ve inspired a question from you yet?¡±


    The girl looked down at the book, and bit her lip thinkingly for a moment. ¡°Was there no magic before The Zer?¡±


    ¡°You ask an interesting question, and the answer is, I suppose: no and yes. There are at least no reliable sources to back up the existence of The Magick before The Zer, but even The Zer is thought to have met other mystics who claimed similar ability. So there might¡¯ve been, but even if there were, The Zer and his followers ¨C they were different. There are, for instance, no known spells before the advent of The Zer, and as we shall see, many other things followed from their heritage.¡± He paused for a brief moment, letting the girl digest his reply. ¡°Shall I continue reading?¡±


    Before the Evenin managed to reply the door flew open, and Ord returned with a silver jug and -cup for water. ¡°Oh, thank you Ord.¡± The assistant dwarf put the silverware on the table and filled the cup up. Tardom drank with a small smile and released a refreshed sigh when the cup was empty. He put it down on the table and gave Evenin another quick look, before turning towards the book again. He flipped a couple of pages forwards before continuing to read: ¡°The ruins of The City of Ages hold clues that tell us about the probability of the stories of today, which until recently were the only means of conducting any major reconstruction of past events. Luckily, two books were discovered that tell of life in The City of Ages, and whose age we estimate to be around 8000 years. The translation of these was perhaps the most ambitious, and certainly the most invaluable labor of my 30 years of study. Its result has been a treasure chest for history. The Zer seems, curiously, to have been alive when they were written, supporting the theory of ze being an elf. But powerful humans are also known in our days to have figured out the secrets to a magically enhanced lifetime. Irridiklara The Witch, that mysterious woman who¡¯s been causing havoc in the lands of The Three Cities, west of The Dwarven States, is rumored to be over 200 years old, twice that of the oldest ordinary humans. Either way, the written and oral stories alike, tell of 2 major wars fought between The City of Ages and the surrounding monarchies in the lands of Adalwey. In the first war, jealous of The Magick, the surrounding kings and queens banded together in an expedition to lay siege to the mountain city. Their grudges are said to relate to the unwillingness of The Zer and zes followers to teach royalty The Magick, as well as an unwillingness to establish an Academy of Learning in each of the monarchs¡¯ holdings. The First Siege of The City of Ages was the first test of the powers of The Zer and zes followers, and the first recorded use of Combat Magick. The City of Ages had no walls with which to defend themselves. Stone stairs lead the way into the city from the ground, and mechanical installations of wood and iron allowed for the fast lifting of goods up short heights, reducing time needed to move goods into the city. If the enemy army captured any of these installations, they might gain a foothold along the mountain stairs and quickly overrun the city. As stories arrived The Zer of an enemy army reaching the foot of the mountain, a desperate situation arose. The City of Ages had few weapons, and with no walls the enemy may simply walk into the city, shields raised. It was at this time that The Zer performed zes first known feat of Magick. Secluding zeself into meditation, The Zer brought forth powers capable of shaking the mountain itself, collapsing rocks both above and below. Many of these rocks fell on the enemy army, yet not enough to discourage its advance. However, as the enemy army climbed the stairs, boulders which had been loosened by the collapse, were pulled and pushed down after them, crushing groups of soldiers at a time. When a few soldiers eventually managed to reach the top unharmed, these were subsequently quickly surrounded and struck to death by a spontaneous militia of city dwellers and visitors. The Zer zeself, and some of zes most capable followers, then ignited the mountain grass which grew most of the way up, and a great firewall spread downwards, savaging the climbing army with either scorched skin or violent death. The fire did not spread to the city, as its streets and buildings were made of stone. The surviving enemy army thus had to retreat, and began instead a month long siege, disrupting any and all from reaching the mountain city, wanting to starve it into submission. But, the story goes, as the month passed, the army grew curious. Why did all its emissaries return with rejection from The Zer? Had they not suffered enough yet? When they grew much more curious, they tried sending spies to find out what was going on. If the enemy had large stockpiles of durable food, and if so, if they could be sabotaged. The spies returned with a curious story: apparently, the city had new visitors! But how did they arrive there? Sending more spies, the enemy army discovered that over the month The City of Ages had built a tunnel through the mountain on the other side, and carved out new stairs there. A new smaller network of more mechanical lifts were also already in place. Such a feat was deemed impossible by the enemy commanders on the ground, and they spent a whole 2 weeks sending scouts around the mountain to find the second way to the city. When the scouts reported to have found it, the enemy commanders are said to have lost their spirits, and their whole combined army retreated back to the holdings of the monarchs. Thus ended The First Siege of The City of Ages, and the first known accounts of Great Magick, capable of shaping lands by shattering rocks and igniting great fires. Nearly 50 years later however, the descendants of the monarchs of Adalwey surrounding The City of Ages, again banded together, for a second expedition. This time however, The City of Ages had constructed walls and an armory, and its population had expanded by half a time its previous number. This time, an assault would by devastating, this much every monarch agreed. And so, the armies split up and began a double siege, even setting up a grand trebuchet believed to be able to reach all the way up into the city. The advances made in the last 50 years of The City of Ages was not merely in stone and metal though, and The Second Siege of The City of Ages ended in less than a week, when The Zer rained molten rocks from the skies down upon the army of the first entrance, causing it to disperse and flee. The molten rocks from this spell can still be found on the outskirts of the ruins of The City of Ages to this day. Thus much our geologists are willing to admit, because at least this would explain the strange rocks which can be found there. I have personally seen to it that a specimen of these rocks were inspected in The Ethereal, and several mages have confirmed for me that they still contain The Magick in them. The fate of the other army, guarding the second entrance, fared little better. As if to prove zes versatility, The Zer and zes followers rained icicles as large and as sharp as the thickest of spears down upon the enemy.¡±


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Tardom paused, and looked concernedly up at Evenin. ¡°I do not think I need to tell you the details of what happened to those victims. I spare you this gruesomeness.¡± The girl said nothing, merely returning Tardom¡¯s words with wide eyes and a total attention. ¡°Suffice to say, this army fled easily too, and ever since there were no account of any army trying to take The City of Ages by force. Neither by assault or by siege. I will continue reading now a little further ahead.¡± The old dwarf leaned back down into the book and its already aging pages: ¡°Every army leader, it is said, would forever know The City of Ages as protected by the skies and the mountain themselves. And from here on, The City of Ages would only grow, both larger and greater. Noteworthy wielders of The Magick are only known in the preceding centuries to have successfully been educated at The City of Ages. Nearly 800 years later, or around 7200 years ago from our time, a third book we¡¯ve discovered takes place. Written as a travelling account by a visiting Scholar, the book tells a story of how The Zer was still there, but secluded. The Scholar, regrettably, failed to find an opportunity to visit and talk to The Zer, but talk enthusiastically about the wonders of the city. Enchantments had been discovered nearly 200 years earlier, and the city¡¯s people, and particularly the followers of The Zer, were all adorned with enchanted items. A female close follower of The Zer apparently wore a hat whose shade always stayed at a reasonably cold temperature, even on the warmest of days when the mountain city baked with sunlight. A young man the traveler met, son of a wealthy merchant, carried a quill that needed no ink, but created it as of thin air, whenever the quill was put to paper. The strangest things the traveler ever saw was a large hovering pillow, upon which sat a half-naked fat woman who managed the affairs of The Great Tower of The City of Ages, also known as The Tower of Ages for short, and whose thick tall structure harbored many floors, each with a large encircling terrace. The terraces, according to traveler''s claim of first-hand experience, had the most beautiful views into the forest and desert at bottom of the mountain, reaching well beyond the walls of the city. But here, unfortunately, the accounts of life in The City of Ages end. We know not what happened to it, but related accounts from nearby lands hint towards the city¡¯s most powerful people eventually abandoning it, leaving behind only the weakest of witches and wizards, who went on to spread knowledge of The Magick to the farthest away lands. Academies, universities and schools for magic spread, slowly but steadily, encompassing in the end the entirety of the known world with witches and wizards who could reach into The Ethereal, and cast spells. But before they came this far, something changed about the world itself. Or was it a change? It¡¯s difficult to tell. Spells, it seems, were not always mere truths of the world. At some point they required more than the little effort required of today in order to learn and cast spells. Once upon a time, spells were crafted by the casters, and only for that caster. But at some point it seems, the world itself became covered in The Magick, and it was first then that The Magick became a tool for the many. It was only then it could be effectively taught in institutions of learning, instead of remaining the privilege of mystics. What happened in between? Did The Zer and zes followers, in their departure from us, leave us with the means of taking part in their powers over The Magick? The evidence is unclear, but the story seems to want to suggest this, though only later, and after The Zer. Because no more is known of The Zer since. The name leaves history entirely, and mysteriously. Great mages show up in history here and there, and while The Zer never recurs, names similar to The Zer¡¯s powerful followers seem to show up again, but whether these are the same individuals or not is difficult to know, because none recognize them as such. We do know though, that around 5000 years ago from our time, the first accounts of a means of measuring the power of an individual are recorded, long before the now famous Akalios¡¯ Calculus became known merely 1500 years ago. The first accounts of something akin to power levels are around 4400 years old, and the first mention of power attributes around 4200 years old. It seems thus that if any conclusions can be drawn about our Magick of today, and the World of Aclima as we live it, it is that it was CREATED! The Magick, the powers levels, the power attributes. Do we live in the World of The Zer and zes followers? It is an open question, and speculation for now, but it does seem likely the world as we know it was created, and that the logic of our lives are mere creations. There was a world without The Magick, and there could yet become a world without The Magick. Or, at the very least, a world without The Magick of The Zer.¡±


    Tardom paused reading, he looked over at the mug of water, and as if reading his thoughts Ord The Assistant strode over to refill Tardom¡¯s cup. Tardom drank happily, and looked over at Evenin, a little tired, but content. ¡°The origins of The Magick¡± he said. ¡°Do you have any questions?¡±


    The girl looked at the book, thinkingly for a moment, and then met Tardom¡¯s eyes. She shook her head, but before Tardom could react, seemingly changed her mind, and asked: ¡°What about the gods?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes, the gods.¡± Tardom nodded approvingly. He went down into his book, and began flipping pages again. ¡°Let¡¯s see, let¡¯s see. Is it here?¡± he talked to himself, ¡°No? Here then? No. Oh, here it is! First Accounts of The Celestial People.¡± Tardom let the pages fall down, and leaned forward, studying his own text closer. He began reading: ¡°Who are The Celestial People? Those beings of immense power, whose names we call upon in our spells, summoning them to our every exercise of The Magick? We have shown that The Magick itself has a history, an origin that shows the likely impermanence of The Magick to our world. Are The Celestial People also impermanent? Was there a time before they were, and could there yet come a time when they aren¡¯t? Before the spells, what were the use of The Celestial Names? Perhaps there were no use, only the silent veneration of mere powerful individuals. The records show that the first mention of an individual evoked within a spell is 5700 years old. The individual was The Celestial Name of Urn. A name that is rarely evoked today, but whose mighty person is still known as The Master of Earth. The account mentions a town in Adalwey called Morn (sadly destroyed later in The Grand War of The South) where many of its people could call forth power bestowed upon them by a protector who they named Urn. This protector had once visited and lived in the town, and upon zes departure had gifted the town this spell. A more interesting clue to the Nature of The Celestial People however, is to be found a few hundred years later, when an incredible story tells of the total annihilation of the second largest city of Adalwey: Sorgam. Likely one of the most populous cities of the ancient world, a mere great city of ruins remain today as the main evidence that such a city likely did exist. Whether its the same city though, and whether it suffered the fate attributed to it, is not entirely clear. Though evidence speak in such favor. Regardless, the story goes that the council leading Sorgam, before its last days, struck a deal with a great being of The Magick. A being who demanded the city send large weekly caravans with tribute up a mountain on towards a grand sanctuary, whose whereabouts sadly remains a mystery. The price offered in return for this tribute was a series of spells, with which the city would lend the being¡¯s great Magick, to protect itself against any and all who would harm it. For years the City of Sorgam sent the caravans, and, the assumption went, were under the protection of this mysterious being. But as years turned into decades, members of the Council of Sorgam were slowly being replaced by a younger generation, who doubted the power of this mysterious being. In particular, they were confident that the spells were theirs, and did not require any relationship with this mysterious being, who by now they called Rivhror, likely the Celestial we today know as Rivor of The Sun. So eventually, they stopped sending the caravans. When emissaries arrived from the grand sanctuary, demanding their tribute, and were rejected, the emissaries promised terrible sanctions if new caravans did not arrive within a month. A month passed, however, and none were sent. After 2 months, witnesses describe seeing a small host of robed individuals marching upon the city, choosing to settle outside of it in a small but luxurious encampment. Here, witnesses describe, were a human-like being, perhaps an elf, but larger than any normal one, more like a giant of sorts. It was a being tall, muscled, calm, with long golden hair, and a gentle manner. The people of the encampment showed exceedingly great respect for this individual, who consumed much of their attention. Even though this person, they say, did little by stare up into the clear sky for the whole morning after they arrived, sitting upon a large pillow out in the open. When a great event transpired that morning, this individual seemed unmoved by it. The event, of course, was the annihilation. Above the city, the sky, witnesses tell, turned yellow-red. Was it with fire? If it was, it was unlike any ordinary fire. Instead it was like the sun became the sky, and the sky fell. Just before noon, the sky crashed its yellow-red brightness into the city, and in mere moments the city burned with an intensity and speed unseen by any witness. When noon came in the minutes after, what was left of the city was but the thickest and strongest of the stone structures, all else was ash, crumbled, melted even. Brick houses collapsed and for days were too hot to touch. The helpless people who tried to venture into the city all returned with burns gained from touching or stepping on the wrong spot, which was about everywhere. But why am I mentioning this? What can we learn from this story? Rivor of The Sun is of those we today refer to as The Celestial People, but is it not possible, or is it not likely, that once ze was a person? In fact, that ze was this exact person, using The Magick to vanquish the city in a great feat of terror? As a person, ze was of course great in power, and greater in size witnesses describe than any other person. But Rivor of The Sun still appears as but a mere individual of great power here. Is it possible that the long lives of the followers of The Zer have with the ages created these people we call The Celestial? From where did Rivor of The Sun gain the great power we know ze to possess? Whether by the story just told, or by the many spells in whose name Rivor of The Sun is called upon today, it seems possible that such power was not always a constant. Although perhaps this is mere speculation. But if not speculation, Rivor of The Sun didn¡¯t exist always as a being of power, but became one by knowledge and practice of The Magick. More telling of this story, if it is true, is the fact that Rivor wanted tribute at all. Because today, most of us I would reckon, expect of the Celestial People to have the kind of omnipotence to not require such plain items as cloth, spices, grains and fruit. Is not such mundane items beneath The Celestial People? So why did a Celestial Individual ask for them thousands of years ago? Perhaps this omnipotence is a misconception we have, or perhaps, and more interestingly, The Celestial People did not start off as the beings of power we consider them today. Perhaps they too, started off like you and me, and merely grew ¨C for millennia, without end.¡±


    Tardom paused his reading, looked up from his book and grabbed for the silver cup. Ord the assistant stepped over quickly to lift the jug and fill the cup. As Tardom drank slowly, he saw Evenin sit there, expectantly but patiently waiting for him to continue. However, more reading was not to be. For when Tardom was on his last sip the door flung open, and in strode a hasty prime minister and an entourage of his dwarf wife, and other dwarf men and -women whom Tardom recognized as The Prime Minister¡¯s Cabinet. The officials were almost launching themselves at Prime Minister Ederfar with concerned questions, rhetorical challenges and retorts against his defensive statements. ¡°But our taxes this year are too low to cover the expense!¡± said the Minister of The Economy, a middle-aged dwarf woman carrying an open notebook in her left hand, while gesturing vividly with her free right one.


    ¡°Then find a new tax to implement!¡± Ederfar yelled exasperated in return, ¡°The road over the mountain was my main election promise, so it stays in this year¡¯s budget!¡± The retort triggered but a second of silence, before the whole cabinet launch themselves at him again, each one trying to out-protest the others. The prime minister just looked away tiredly at Tardom while his dwarves yelled into his back. Evenin¡¯s nanny, meanwhile, snuck through the assaulting crowd and stepped up behind the girl¡¯s chair.


    ¡°Silence!¡± The Prime Minister eventually shouted, and the cabinet fell silent. ¡°This is the Prime Minister¡¯s Private Quarters. Please evacuate the floor! We will discuss this further tomorrow in our daily meeting.¡± The disgruntled crowd of politicians shuffled out of the room. Every one of them releasing a great sigh of frustration, or, in the prime minister¡¯s case, a great sigh of relief.


    ¡°I see that The Ederfar Road is facing resistance¡± Tardom smirked.


    The prime minister sighed again, and wandered over to the scholar. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s putting it mildly. The people are content for now, but the cabinet is rebelling almost every week over it.¡± Ederfar wiped away sweat from his forehead. It looked like he could benefit from a rest. ¡°Anyways, how was your first day of schooling with Tardom, my dear Evenin?¡± Ederfar stepped over to his daughter, knelt before her and held her hand gently, waiting for a reply.


    ¡°Good¡± she said quietly, shy at being the center of the attention of 4 different dwarves: her father, Tardom, the nanny and Ord.


    ¡°Good? Did you get properly started today? Have you learned much?¡± Her father quizzed calmly, but interested. To Tardom it looked almost as if all the father¡¯s stress went away as he focused his attention on his daughter.


    Evenin nodded.


    ¡°That¡¯s good! That¡¯s good, my daughter.¡± Ederfar stood up, still holding her hand. He looked over at Tardom. ¡°I think we are done for today then. But you will continue tomorrow.¡±


    Tardom nodded slowly, but agreeably.


    ¡°Alright then¡± and the Prime Minister turned around, ¡°Ord?¡± Ederfar looked at the assistant. ¡°Please escort Tardom back to The State Library. The book¨C¡± and Ederfar gestured at the desk, ¡°¨Ccan stay here I suppose, for tomorrow.¡± Ord nodded respectfully at the prime minister.


    Prime Minister Ederfar, his daughter and the nanny left the study room, and Tardom stood up, grabbing a helping arm from Ord who held him steady, and guided him out into the broad corridor. There the trip went down the stone stairs again, through the other stone corridors, and again into The State Library. The place where Tardom basically lived most of his life these days. He¡¯d even been caught sleeping there many a time by its librarian, who only managed the place part-time, at other times serving as a tutor, like Tardom, but to young adults in the more advanced subjects of mathematics, material sciences and life sciences.


    Tardom sat down in a large reading chair within the library. However, Ord did not leave. But instead just stood there, as he¡¯d done in the study room, apparently awaiting an opportunity to be useful. ¡°Are you ordered to assist me, even when I¡¯m not tutoring?¡± Tardom questioned.


    ¡°Serving you is a great honor, Great Scholar.¡± And Ord bowed in respect. ¡°I was told to assist you, there was no mention of when not to.¡±


    Tardom smiled, silently at first, but then he laughed, a little happy. ¡°Haha. With that attitude, young dwarf, perhaps it one day will be Ord The Assistant, who finishes my work. Well, a dwarf can only dream I suppose.¡±

 Ch. 2: Motharan, Day 1; The Conference

    Evenin breathed out the emotions. Am I worried? Am I anxious? Am I sad? Am I frustrated? All. If I had to pick, I¡¯d pick them all. The young dwarf woman ¨C or young by dwarven standards at least, she was over 50 years old after all ¨C stood up. Around her, on all sides, were dwarven politicians: ministers, leaders of free clans, royalty from petty kingdoms. The most important of them, which narrowly included Evenin herself, sat around a large golden circular table, within a grand ornated hall. Hundreds of other dwarves sat tightly packed on tiers of pillowed stone seats at either side, with the hall ending in one direction in a huge window protrusion overseeing the vast forested territory west of the dwarven mountains, an architectural feature intensely fitting of today¡¯s subject. At the other direction meanwhile, the hall ended in a huge open metal door escaping into the mountain, and the capital city of the Republic of Motharan. Truly, the architecture spoke volumes of the conference subject. At the grand door opening a few dwarves chatted away quietly, while other dwarves walked to and from the hall, and also, to and from the perhaps most important meeting of their whole generation.


    ¡°May I have your attention.¡± Evenin spoke up, though softly.


    ¡°Quiet!¡± Spoke Marim, a bulged shortbearded male dwarf, host of the meeting, and Prime Minister of Motharan. ¡°Let our guest ¨C Evenin, Minister of Education, of The Republic of Redratall ¨C speak.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Prime Minister, and guests¡± Evenin said, as the few low conversations around the table died down, and the table resumed an orderly meeting. All present participants reconvening after a very necessary break, the dwarven politicans having already been arguing for over 2 hours straight after a series of opening statements by Marim and other prominent members.


    As Evenin got ready to speak, she focused her voice into the center of the round table, where was a large magic orb. This orb relayed in a huge deep echo to the rest of the hall what was being said around the table. After the recent break and up until now, only a quiet murmured noise had come from it. But at this moment, it was quiet. The entire hall: hundreds of dwarves, generations of them, they all, more or less, waited for her words.


    ¡°Esteemed guests. As my beloved, deceased teacher Tardom, once told me: history does not move in cycles, it does not repeat, even if the stories we write around them may seem similar. Rather, every event in history is unique ¨C but ¨C the fundamental mechanisms that drive history, are the fundamental mechanisms that drive our world, and those we have all reasons to believe will always be the same. And if, my esteemed guests, we shall see this as a historic moment, we have to ask what mechanisms we set free by doing nothing, and what mechanisms we constrain by doing something of considerable effect. Most of the free clans here represented have argued that our interference with the conflict will only lead to pains for the dwarves of our mountains, and that we have a greater duty to isolate our own from the conflict. This line of thinking seems to be on par with that of The Kingdom of Meya, a human kingdom, who have refused to send any other aid, except for a handful of spirited volunteer warriors. I have no military experience, I must admit. Yet, I do believe these volunteers to ultimately be inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. At best¡± and Evenin¡¯s voice became low and slow, ¡°they may help on faltering morale.¡± With a sad expression, she took the time to look around and into most of the faces at the table.


    ¡°However¡± she continued, raising her voice again, ¡°next to a poor lawless human kingdom like Meya, you have The Axe Mountains ¨C our kin; 6 free clans of prospering dwarves. There, The Clan of The Thirsty Beards have decided to join war with The Clan of The White Peaks. White Peaks being the first and oldest clan ¨C if you recall ¨C to establish home in The Three Brother Mountains that surround The Three Cities. They ¨C our kin ¨C made the decision to fight, valiently, to defend in the tragic Siege of Valorum, the southern city, and the catastrophy for which reason this conference was created. Of the 2 clans, only 5 dwarves total managed to escape the city, as elementals, undead, goblins, monsters, evil mages; all overran the walls. I have read the full description myself, sent to Motharan¡¯s government by The Thirsty Beards¡¯ leaders. At the end of that scroll, The Thirsty Beards report that their own regional council of dwarven clans have agreed to invite The Clan of The White Peaks to resettle in The Axe Mountains, should they fear the imminent fall of their home at Bright Star Fortress.¡±


    Evenin paused for a few seconds, letting the information sink in to the minds of the dwarves present. ¡°Esteemed guests, fellow dwarves: a dwarven clan is being driven from its home by an enemy whose only goals seem to be the destruction of current societies, and total domination over whatever remains.¡± Another pause. ¡°Does it not seem like this war, ultimately, concern all dwarves? To end my argument, let me lay out my view: a dwarven army has been wiped out, dwarves are already part of the war in The Three Cities, and neither our resources, nor our armies, are as poor as that of The Kingdom of Meya. If we recognize that this war already concerns us, and if we recognize that we have the means to act effectively, then we should conclude that we must do something.¡±


    Evenin went quiet, and then sat down. Prime Minister Marim clapped respectfully in response, and a few other dwarves around the table and in the crowd did the same. Another dwarf woman at the table raised her hand, and Prime Minister Marim gestured for her to speak. The woman stood up.


    ¡°I am curious¡± she began, ¡°about the official position of The Republic of Redratall on this issue? Your petty republic has no foreign affairs minister, and for some reason chose to send its Minister of Education, when it is usually the Prime Minister of Redratall who handles the foreign affairs. Or that has been my understanding...¡± The woman let the implied question hang in the air for a second. ¡°It appears your own republic¡¯s diplomatic response is rather lacking, and yet, you seem to have a lot of opinions on the subject. Could you perhaps expand on the official position of The Republic of Redratall, and how it relates to your intervensionist speech?¡±


    Evenin suddenly felt sweaty. It is true, I¡¯m not really suited for foreign affairs, and this is only the second time I¡¯ve been given a foreign affairs issue to deal with. However, she held down the anxiety inside, mustering the boldness to respond. She looked at Prime Minister Marim, who gestured for her to deliver her response. The other woman, a foreign affairs minister from one of the larger free clans, sat down, just as Evenin stood up.


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    ¡°Ehem.¡± She voiced. Do I sound nervous? Yes, I must. ¡°I have been given the full authority to speak for Redratall on this matter, and as such you can consider my position equivalent to that of the republic. ¡°My ¨C Redratall¡¯s ¨C position on the issue, is not explicitly intervensionist, although we do believe intervention should be discussed here today, and when this meeting resumes tomorrow and the day after. My position is more that we should avoid passivity or isolationism as a response, and look for a scenario under which our combined strength may be of benefit to the situation. Such as to lower the chance that another city is made desolate of inhabitants, or that the conflict spreads beyond The Three Brothers Mountains, at which point it¡¯ll be increasingly difficult for anyone here to argue that this war does not concern us. Because at that point, we may ourselves be the next target for conquest. Now, this does not mean that our response has to be the same as The Kingdom of Olam. They, as most of you know, have decided to mobilize their retinue to help defend Nara, the northern-most city which they border. They claim their aim is to hinder the establishment of dungeons near the kingdom. Well, we are much further east than Nara, and the dungeon lords would have to cross the whole Giant Forest of Melrum to get to us. But it would, for instance, make sense that were dungeons starting to appear near the border to the Melrum forest: we send forces to take them out, as a measure of confinement.¡±


    This last comment by Evenin produced a low murmur among a couple of the dwarves, that soon spread to a few more around the table, and distantly in the crowd. Prime Minister Marim gestured for Evenin to take a seat. She did, glad to get out of the spotlight. Although there¡¯s more I want to say.


    As she sat there, alone in her thoughts for a moment, another male dwarf around the table began speaking: ¡°So I take it that Redratall¡¯s position is akin to a limited intervention, to be discussed and elaborated upon by the rest of us.¡± The dwarf who had spoken was another representative of a free clan. His demeanor was one of clarity, and dead cold logic. ¡°However, my clan does not feel that there is even a need to discuss limited intervention. As Minister Evenin herself has pointed out, The Giant Forest of Melrum sits between us and The Three Brothers Mountains. The forest is like an ocean of its own, we are effectively separated like 2 different continents. Trade between us can take up to a month to reach. Imagine if we sent an army: 2 more sieges could destroy both of the remaining 2 cities before we even heard that the first siege had began. We¡¯d have to send a large expedition beforehand, which would be expensive, and without proper cause, now that the first city is no more and thus no longer requires defense. Imagine if tomorrow hostilities ceased with the other cities, and our debate here ended up being meaningless, just as we decided to send such a huge expedition. No, the whole subject of intervention does not make sense. THAT is the position of The Clan of Mountaineers!¡± The dwarf sat down, a few other dwarven representatives from the free clans clapped, and in the crowd a low background noise of clapping also occurred. Prime Minister Marim added a polite short clap of his own, right before all clapping died out.


    Another dwarf, one with a richly braided beard the colors of blonde and flaming red, and being the Foreign Minister of The Republic of Brownhall, raised his hand. Brownhall was the only immediate neighbour state to Redratall, the later being otherwise squeezed in between a set of inhospitable high-rising peaks at the south-western tip of The Young Mountains. The mountains being the location of what was commonly referred to as The Dwarven States. All too aware who this was, Evenin¡¯s entire attention immediately went to the foreign minister, as Marim gestured at the dwarf, and the dwarf rose from his seat. ¡°Esteemed guests. Prime Minister Marim.¡± The dwarf bowed slightly. ¡°Members of the crowd.¡± The dwarf turned first towards the one, and then the other side, upon which sat the 2 crowds of dwarves. He bowed to each. ¡°The Brownhall Republic is not a petty republic. There, we have over 66000 dwarves living within our mountain home, and its surrounding landscapes. And yet: we have no standing army. No retinues, like Olam. No Guild of Free Heroes, like the one from which Meya got their volunteers. No city guard, conscripted citizenry, nor conscripted peasantry, like those who defended Valorum. Our prime minister does not even have his own personal guard. We have an armory, and we have officials capable of defending themselves. And we have a volunteer watch force that technically may carry weapons, but barely ever does. Esteemed guests, I repeat: we have no army, in any sense of the term, in Brownhall. Redratall, a republic of some 16000 dwarves, neither has any army. Let me remind the crowd, that war has not been seen in The Young Mountains for way over 100 years, and at that time we had disagreements with each other that luckily ended with just a single battle.¡± He took a long pause. ¡°The point I wish to make, my fellow dwarves, is that the dwarves of our mountains are a peaceful folk. We have given up the ways of war, and sought the development of our homes. Redratall, who now speaks for war, used to be an example for us all. Evenin!¡± The minister looked straight at her, and Evenin definitely felt a little uneasy and overwhelmed at the attention, though she hid that under a blank stare response. ¡°The road that connects the republics of the western side of the mountains, with the free clans of the eastern side of the mountains, that road the people named after your father! His Redratall was the example we have all aspired to since ¨C a model of a better world for our dwarves. Should we surrender The Ederfar Principles of Government, for a war far away?¡± The foreign minister shrugged in mock exasperation, and when he eventually sat down, many dwarves clapped. Some dwarves in the crowd even roared with approval, first among them dwarves from the free clans, who had first hand experience with the benefits that The Ederfar Road had provided. Not just the profits of trade, but also migration from the overpopulated west to the east, and the expansion of industries that before had been constricted by small markets. These expansions had in turn provided cheaper goods, as new investments had been made into more efficient means of production. And in the west, more variety of food stuffs from the east had been met with great enthusiasm. The benefits of a developmental focus seemed undeniable and evident, and Evenin knew this, and she also knew just how difficult it would be to navigate the provided logic.


    I just lost this argument, her thoughts concluded. The power of the counters so strong, she wasn¡¯t even sure she could believe in her own speech anymore. Yet, for the rest of that day, while Evenin sat quiet as a mouse listening to senior diplomats; she thought, and she pondered, and she sketched plans. Tomorrow would be another day.

 Ch. 3: Motharan, Day 2; The Conference

    ¡°... and thus it is with deep sorrow that we have to inform you, that the siege of Audon Castle has begun. The size of the sieging force is unknown, as the warbands of lesser dungeon lords roam the surrounding lands and have made scoutings difficult. However, given the recent destruction of Valorum, we cannot hope that Audon will last long. All the 4 dwarven clans of The Three Brothers Mountains have now joined forces to assist in the defense of The City of Mane. Together, they hope to bring the dungeon lords¡¯ hordes to a standstill. We, The Thirsty Beards, have already lost too many dwarves to send another army, but volunteers from all over The Axe Mountains have decided to form of a small warband to join the defense. We only hope, for the sake of those lands, that your kind will consider the possibility of sending an army of your own.¡± Prime Minister Marim closed the scroll and put it down on the table. Before him stood the entire tightly packed conference of dwarves, not a sound being made.


    ¡°Well?¡± Said a bulged bald dwarf, the second prince of a petty kingdom, his hand raised. Marim sat down, and gestured for the dwarf to speak. The dwarf stood up, and spoke to the crowd with a deep rough voice: ¡°If you did not believe me yesterday that we should go to war. Surely, this is proof that we should!? The only reasonable action for us here today, should be to amass a large army, a grand army, and send it towards Nara. With Olam on their side, they should have the strength to hold out long enough for us to arrive. And if we are lucky, Mane, the western city, will still be holding off. The time for action ¨C IS NOW!¡± The dwarf slammed his fist at the table, and Prime Minister Marim gave him a quick disapproving glare for the aggressive display, before forgiving it, as the hall had erupted into shouts for and -against war, free clan dwarves openly having heated and minor violent confrontations with the pro-war dwarves of the republics and assembled petty kingdoms.


    Prime Minister Marim rose up. ¡°SILENCE! ORDER! WE NEED ORDER!¡± As if by magic, and it probably was, the orb that amplified the voices around the table suddenly many-doubled its effect, producing a powerful voice that echoed omnipresently within the hall. The table itself stopped talking, and while there were remnant conversations and confrontations going on in the crowds, they turned into a minor background noise.


    Evenin put her hand up. ¡°Finally!¡± exclaimed the bald petty kingdom representative. ¡°Some more sense around this table!¡±


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    ¡°Quiet!¡± Marim retorted to bald dwarf, as Evenin rose up, readying herself to speak.


    ¡°I am afraid that I will not be on your side today, Prince Gard.¡± The bald dwarf opened his mouth in surprise, his face contorting as if betrayed. ¡°Today, I wish to say that the arguments which my colleague from The Brownhall Republic spoke yesterday, these made an impression on me, and in extension, they¡¯ve made an impression on The Redratall Republic.¡± She paused, noticing the deeply annoyed face of Prince Gard, his bald head reddening with contained anger.


    ¡°And so¡± she continued, ignoring the man, ¡°I wish to discuss what my father, Ederfar, would¡¯ve done, had he been younger, and not suffering the sickness he today does back home.¡± She swallowed. ¡°I believe my father would indeed have been against assembling and sending an army, as Prince Gard have suggested. However, the trade that has occurred between The Three Cities and The Dwarven States has been priced highly for a long time. And surely, it cannot be in our interest that The Three Cities fall, and that the trade from the west cease. If Olam were to fall as well, and the northern towns and villages, we may have no trade whatsoever coming from the west. We¡¯d have but a large forest whose busy roads in time would become impassable from overgrowth. Entirely new trade routes would have to be established to the south, with month long travelling times. Dwarves would have to resettle along the coast to the north if we are to have affordable seafood. The republics and petty kingdoms on the western side of The Young Mountains, meanwhile, would become entirely dependent on the west-east mountain passes, such as The Ederfar Road.¡± Evenin paused, and let the thoughts be properly absorbed by her audience. ¡°The Dwarven States can survive without the west, but it will be a long time before we thrive without them. It has, rightly, been pointed out that we do not all have armies that can be sent, and we are not lands of warriors. HOWEVER ¨C we are lands of great, great industry. And therefore, there are things which we are uniquely qualified to do, and which will be in the interest of our dwarven people to do. Esteemed guests, fellow dwarves in the crowd.¡± Evenin bowed 3 times: one for the table, and one for each of the 2 crowds. ¡°I wish to suggest that we make an investment into our future. The returns of which will take a long time, but, in the prospect of great losses of our own future opportunities, they will surely be the preferred option. I propose: that we gather our resources, our combined strength, and we fund the founding of a 4th city of the west.¡±

 Ch. 4: Redratall State Chamber; The Conference

    22 dwarves sat within a modestly sized stone chamber. 22 dwarves wrapped in the meeting of their lifetime. These dwarves, being most of the ministers and institutional spokespeople of Redratall, collectively also formed the government of Redratall.


    ¡°And so what did they say of your proposal?¡± Yrfar asked, second and newest Prime Minister of Redratall to follow Ederfar¡¯s retirement.


    ¡°They...¡± Evenin, Minister of Education, began. But stopped to think for a second. ¡°... They wanted to know more of course. And so I told them that if we helped build a 4th city, I suggested around that little town called Ermos, there¡¯d be a place for all the refugees to concentrate. Small amounts of refugees have already began streaming up north, many heading for that town. We know that much from our increasing trade with Ermos, as their own merchants have begun shunning The Three Cities due to the dangers of the dungeon lords. Those merchants, and many more, they all feel it: that it is only a matter of time before all of The Three Cities are lost. Our kin in The Three Brothers Mountains presumably know the real possibility of that too. In the last report we got from The Thirsty Beards, they also mentioned they¡¯ve contacted the mecha-gnome communities, including the Vroovroo Subterrainian Town, the Mainpipe Industrial Town, and The Great System, which the mecha-gnomes call their big city there. The many green-elven communities have also been contacted, though they are unlikely to participate for now, even though one green-elven community was attacked by a small dungeon lord horde recently. The attack was repulsed, with reports claiming the horde couldn¡¯t even get past their guardian tree defenses, and that the dungeon lord was taken down by arrows when trying to engage herself. Overconfidence may be running high in their community now. Suffice to say: if only The Three Brothers Mountains stood entirely united, their overwhelming numbers and wide skillset would probably stop the advance and be able to clear the many dungeons. But such a grand alliance is unlikely to arise before it¡¯s too late, the humans are destroyed, and the dwarves severely weakened. So, a 4th city, for humans and maybe even dwarves and others, would be necessary. And it would have to be built far away, to give fair warning against any army travelling towards them. And the city would have to be built on the experiences of the current war. For instance, as I argued at the conference, The Three Cities have proven to be severely weak against mages. So, the 4th city will also need a university of magic, to train mages, and research the knowledge and the powers that will protect it.¡± Evenin stopped talking to reach over and drink a glass of water. Everyone waited for her, all eyes and ears to attention. ¡°There are¡± Evenin put the glass back down, ¡°currently no magical universities so far up north. A new university of magic may benefit the entire region, including our Young Mountains. Dwarves here could travel to the 4th city to study, if they¡¯d like. The university may even attract mages from the ranks of the dungeon lords, who right now lack a serious option for magical studies. And I even propose, and I know this is controversial, but I even propose that we let Irridiklara become the university¡¯s highest ranking head.¡±


    ¡°WHAT?¡± produced 3 different dwarves, each after the other.


    ¡°How can you be serious? Evenin!¡± Prime Minister Yrfar reprimanded.


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    ¡°Please wait¡± Evenin put up a palm, ¡°hear me. I got the same response at the conference. But I managed to convince them, so please listen: Irriklara is currently on nobody¡¯s side. She hasn¡¯t joined the fighting, and probably won¡¯t. And if we got her to join the university, there are no guarantees she¡¯ll even fight to defend the city.¡±


    ¡°Not the best asset to collect, it sounds like.¡± Commented a male dwarf, and the spokesperson for Redratall¡¯s Union of Goat Herders.


    Evenin looked slightly down and did not respond to the comment. Instead, she continued: ¡°However, just having her there, in the university, would be enough to raise its credentials through the roof. It would attract so many mages to come, and make any aggressor think twice before attacking the city. It doesn¡¯t even matter how she decides to run the place, Irridiklara could turn the whole place upside down and it would still be a great opportunity for many, and an invaluable feature to the city.¡±


    ¡°But how¡± began a dwarf woman, The Minister of Commerce, ¡°would this 4th city benefit us? I understand our dwarves can attend the university, but the costs in labor and resources would be tremendous for what you ask of us. And Redratall is a poor republic. Remember how much we sacrificed for your father¡¯s road to complete?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Evenin responded, energized by debate. ¡°But the continuance of friendly western communities will be invaluable! In the trade and quality of life for our dwarves, it is a necessary expense. And of course, we will make demands of them. The demands for aiding the founding of the city, its university, the arming of their soldiers and construction of their industries, it will land the city a permanent obligation to secure the lands around what remains of The Three Cities. We will also demand that the city prepares for a future reclaiming of the land, and most important: that it guarantees full free trade between our lands, including the establishment of a permanent and secure corridor of trade, running from The Young Mountains, through The Giant Forest of Melrum, past The Kingdom of Olam, and up north to Ermos. With these tasks, Ermos will have to spend its income and taxes to fund new organizations, like The Guild of Heroes in Meya. And these organizations will have no other duty but to fight and to contain the spreading of the dungeon lords. It may take decades¡± Evenin gestured with open palms, ¡°maybe even centuries, but over time, this 4th city should be able to take back the land with new mages, and a new grand experienced army of adventurers.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡± The Minister of Commerce responded. ¡°Lofty ambitions there.¡±


    ¡°Ehem.¡± Evenin voiced weakly. ¡°Necessary ambitions.¡±


    The table went quiet for a moment, many dwarves chewing on the idea and its implications.


    ¡°And what¡± began a male dwarf, The Minister of Health, ¡°happened then?¡±


    ¡°Well, going into the 3rd day of the conference, we started talking more details. We discussed how joint financing could look like. How much each state should contribute. It was agreed that the richer states would take a considerably larger brunt of the cost. Prince Gard held his own meetings with many representatives outside of the official meeting. He managed to make most of the conference agree to send a volunteer warband as The Axe Mountains have. I told them that we will put up a notice in the street here that anyone who wishes to join the warband may be supplied with weapons, a bit of training and supply rations. However, I told them we will not contribute any coins to the initiative.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, that sounds acceptable.¡± Yrfar nodded.


    ¡°Yeah, after all, if we go through with this 4th city idea¡± The Minister of Commerce pointed out, ¡°there won¡¯t be much surplus coin for a long time. Even IF our republic is getting a participation discount.¡±

 Ch. 5: Redratall State Library; The Conference

    ¡°So... what do you think, Ord?¡± Evenin asked her former teacher, and before that, former teaching assistant. ¡°Was it a good idea? Do you think this will succeed. Or have I convinced the leaders of hundreds of thousands of dwarves to fund a doomed project?¡±


    Ord, a matured dwarf, who had become The State Librarian, walked around with a wooden wheelbarrow of books, putting them back into the shelves where they belonged.


    ¡°I think, Evenin, that it was a bold suggestion.¡±


    ¡°Bold?¡± Evenin asked in a low voice, insecurity seeping out. ¡°Like bad bold? Did I overreach?¡±


    ¡°No, Evenin. I think it was good bold. Certain times call for bold actions, because anything else will not be enough. You know that.¡± The dwarf was reordering some books in a shelf now.


    ¡°What about the bold choice I didn¡¯t make?¡± Her voice got even more quiet. ¡°What about the siege of Mane, which we¡¯re all pretty sure to come soon.¡±


    Ord sighed. ¡°The siege of Mane.¡± He echoed. ¡°Evenin.¡± He turned around. The dwarf had a beard over half a meter long, thick, well-groomed. The length was held together at the middle and bottom by rune-carved metal rings, creating a front tail of sorts. With caring eyes, the longbeard responded: ¡°Do you believe that Mane is our fight? And if so: why do you feel that way?¡±


    Evenin breathed out a few times. Calm, but confused by her own emotions. She leaned against a nearby reading table, not quite meeting Ord¡¯s eyes; thinking. ¡°I think... I don¡¯t like the idea of leaving other people to die, or lose their homes.¡±


    ¡°But people die all the time, and they lose their homes every now and then too. Fires. Storms. Collapsing mountain sides or tunnels. What¡¯s so special about Mane?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, or rather... It just feels like in this situation, we have more power to make a difference. But we choose to withhold that power. And I just can¡¯t make that square within me. Something about it makes me want to say no, we must rally together, we must go out and fight! It¡¯s something else when it is truly faraway and disconnected from us, or an accident we¡¯ll have difficulty predicting. But this feels so close. Even though I¡¯ve never been to The Three Cities, still, I¡¯ve met their merchants many times. Am I wrong to want to tell my fellow dwarves to go out and risk their lives, for a war in another land, and one with no guarantees of victory?¡±


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    Ord eyed the Minister of Education. For a little while neither of them said anything. Then: ¡°No. Its not wrong, not if they want to. But I was there in the chamber, remember? In the background there, I heard what you said. And it seems like a strategy with the 4th city will be more meaningful as an action, than whatever expeditionary force we can create. Right now the cities are losing because they lack mages, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Evenin said, and surprised herself when she whisked away a tear from one of her eyes. ¡°And they also lack enough trained soldiers, and many people have refused the conscription, or escaped to Nara and Mane. Fatalities are high even when they fight with numerical superiority. I talked with some of the merchants coming from there and who were visiting Motharan, they told me that. People are scared. Especially scared to fight.¡±


    Ord nodded, somberly. ¡°Then I think you already know the answer you need. Dwarven numbers and dwarven weapons would not win this war ¨C not without great losses. The plan you put forward, well, it is more likely to give us the time to make the difference that will not just extend the struggle by a few more years, but it could also, actually, win the war.¡±


    ¡°Many peasants have also joined dungeon lords as servants¡± Evenin added, mind just spouting the thoughts that came through her. ¡°In exchange for immunity from attacks. It¡¯s said the dungeon lords offer them tax reductions, and autonomy while working.¡°


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound so bad.¡± Ord tried to lighten the mood a bit. ¡°I believe I read in one of these books somewhere¡± he gestured at the nearby shelves, ¡°that The Three Cities have many laborers among their peasantry bound by strict contracts. Sounds like a promotion to me.¡±


    ¡°I guess¡± Evenin responded. ¡°But their freedom is being followed by the blood of their communities, destruction of their villages and towns, and the end to the societies they live in.¡± Evenin looked into Ord¡¯s eyes. ¡°Would you have taken that promotion, if you had the alternative of fleeing?¡±


    For a few seconds, Ord said nothing. Instead he glanced at the books in his wheelbarrow. Now it was his time to think. After a while, the dwarf¡¯s face came up, and with a somber expression, he spoke, quietly, a single word: ¡°No.¡±


    Another tear slid down Evenin¡¯s cheek. She bid the dwarf good night, and went to bed.

 Ch. 6: Mother of The City; The Envoy

    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of dwarves!¡± a human woman exclaimed, high up from a second floor balcony.


    Walking along a road half a dozen meters away, an old dwarf woman, her white hair braided and decorated with 2 silver hairpins, and her body shielded by a thick but loose purple robe, glanced up to see the exclaimer. The dwarf saw the human, and next to this first one, 3 others leaning against a railing. Together, a total of 4 mouths gaped in her general direction. Taking her eyes off the balcony, she glanced behind her right shoulder.


    A river of dwarves. That¡¯s what she saw. Up the southern artery of Ermos too many dwarves to count either marched on their feet, rode giant rams, or sat comfortably on wagons pulled by more rams. Some wagons were also pulled by donkeys and muels. The mighty river of dwarves stretched as far south as her eyes on the ground could see.


    ¡°Who are they?¡± Another woman of the balcony asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡± the first responded, ¡°but I¡¯ve never seen that many dwarves in one place!¡±


    The old dwarf woman, walking ahead of the many dwarves occupying the horizon, smiled briefly up at the balcony. Many dwarves indeed, young human.


    ¡°Who is she?¡± The question came from the other side of the street, a male urban elf. His eyes were fixed on her. When her eyes moved to meet his, his didn¡¯t move. Rather, he only seemed to get more curious.


    ¡°I bet she¡¯s a dwarven princess! Or queen more like it.¡± Another urban elf eagerly offered, standing next to the first.


    The comment stretched the old dwarf woman¡¯s cheeks into a smile, but she continued her walking, saying nothing.


    ¡°I¡¯m more curious what is that!?¡± The words came from a new young human, a recent arrival to scene.


    ¡°Is that from the wilds?¡± It was another young man¡¯s voice, though this one was anonymized by the now hundreds of people converging from every building and every side street around. Some people were just on their way somewhere, but stopped upon seeing the gathering crowds and the long line of dwarves. Along both sides of the highway, great crowds were forming. A grand audience for an even grander entrance.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like it¡± a human woman began, staring out from a first floor window along with another woman and a teenage girl, ¡°though I can¡¯t say I¡¯ve been much outside the city. Is that thing from our countryside?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like anything I¡¯ve ever seen¡± answered a human man from the window next over. This onlooker was joined by a totally absorbed young boy.


    ¡°See all those wagons in the distance?¡± A woman from another second floor balcony pointed, this time from the other side of the highway. ¡°What could they be bringing?¡±


    Joining the growing commentary, yet another human woman appeared. With her upper body leaning out from a window next to this latest balcony, she took on the task of answering that very question. With hands shielding her eyes from the sun, she peered seriously into the south. ¡°Looks like bars of metal. A lot of it. Many wagons of it. But there¡¯s also lots of other stuff.¡± The woman continued peering. ¡°I see chests, lots of chests. And there are racks, stacked on top of each other. I¡¯m not sure, but I think I see weapons and tools. And there, a bit closer this way, that looks like earthenware, and, there¡± she pointed, ¡°even closer, that other wagon. Mmm. If I¡¯m not totally mistaken, I think that¡¯s PORCELAIN!¡±


    ¡°Traders?¡± The woman on the balcony questioned. ¡°But they¡¯re way too many to be just traders. And look at all those dwarves¡± the woman pointed to near the front of the line, ¡°just walking with their boots, and riding those big goats.¡±


    ¡°I can only say what I see, sister¡± the window looker defended.


    With more such commentary arising from the flanks, several minutes of walking passed for the dwarf woman, with the crowd producing more questions, and more speculations. Eventually though, one moment would stand out to the dwarf, seizing her attention. It was a caned, very old, grey-haired dwarf man, who suddenly exclaimed from the crowd: ¡°IT¡¯S HER! IT¡¯S HER!¡± The dwarf man pointed with a shaking finger as enthusiastically as his age would allow.


    ¡°Really?¡± The word came from a younger dwarf next to the man. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°IT IS! I¡¯M SURE! It is her.¡± The really old dwarf man waved at the less old dwarf woman ahead of the procession. The woman waved back with a smile, and a nod, the latter of which almost seemed to stop the grey-haired dwarf¡¯s heart. ¡°Mother of The City¡± the old dwarf man muttered.


    ¡°Mother of The City¡± echoed his younger companion, his mouth coming slightly agape as he joined in staring. ¡°Evenin of Redratall.¡±


    ¡°Evenin... of Redratall¡± the old man reminisced.


    You make me feel old, old man. Evenin walked on, head a little lower. If you are the first to recognize my face... She shook her head slightly. Well, it¡¯s been over 100 years since I was truly relevant here. That¡¯s more than the lifetime of almost any human, I must remember. 2 human lifetimes even. She mused over her own age. Yet, had I been a human, I would only be at the start of my 50s. Just passed my prime. Just at that moment when thoughts start to slow, but real wisdom begins to surface.


    Passing up and over a small hill in the highway, Evenin¡¯s eyes were finally treated to the major sights of the metropolis, which¡¯d been difficult to see so far due to the crowding of shops and multifloored houses. On her right, the first of The Iron Towers revealed themselves to her. The Iron City, memories of thousands of gnomes in capes busying about pavements flooded her mind. The Iron Towers, there¡¯s more of them than last I was here. She even thought she saw one tower being half-finished in the distance. Behind and a little to the side of The Iron City was The Little Mountain, the small mountain formation hollowed out in most places for the housing of the city¡¯s great dwarven population, with additional housing and buildings spread all over the mountain from top to bottom. Other than these general features though, all of which she knew well, no details were visible from this distance. Evenin moved her eyes to in front of her. Ahead, a trail of smoke ran across the horizon straight foward, while she heard the sound of a horn blow, announcing something. Letting her gaze glide to the left, past the crowding people, she saw the tall, thick and mighty great trees of The City Forest, towers in their own right, but made of living wood, and the forest itself, surrounding these giants of nature, and shrouding the whole great part of this city in a, mostly green, mystery. Looks like The City Forest has expanded a few blocks. Or is that just my imagination? The City Forest looked larger than ever before. So much had it grown since its first years, I¡¯m wondering if it won¡¯t soon take up over half the western part of the outer metropolis. Considering the spatial demands necessary for the green-elven way of life, it looks like an erosion of the urban landscape is the only possiblity forward. She went back to look at The Iron City for comparison, and its tall Iron Towers. While the gnomes expand vertically, the elves expand horizontally.


    Evenin looked ahead again. She and her procession of dwarves occupied almost completely the left half of the paved highway as they marched toward the city center. On her right though, traffic went on as best as it could. There, humans, urban elves, dwarves, mecha-gnomes, and even the occasional green-elf rushed along the stone. The people she saw were diverse. Not just in kinship, but in their trade and their purpose. Evenin took notice of it all. There were travellers, vaguely similar to those of Evenin¡¯s group. They¡¯ve got thick capes, headwear of wrapped cloth and sunblocking hats in straw, leather and cotton, and they got luggage. What else would they be? She noticed a couple of affluent humans had also afforded themselves sunblockers in silk. Most people were not travellers though. There were also crafters, easy to spot, not many people would run around with heavy metal tools and leather aprons. Not many of those. However, one group there were a lot of, was the errand runners, at least their sacks, baskets, small backpacks, and affordable attire, speaks to me of such an occupation. And there were farmers, bringing goods into the city, or their empty wagons and carts out of it. The farmers were easiest to spot. When they didn¡¯t ride donkey- or horse-pulled wagons filled with grain, hay or potatoes, or manually pulling carts with fruits, vegetables, or piles of eggs laid on blankets and straw ¨C they were pulling and guiding cows, pigs, goats and sheep, for slaughter, or for sale, she remarked. Of the few people that didn¡¯t fit the marks of either traveller, crafter, errand-runner nor farmer, there were the small groups of armed people, wearing dissimilar outfit and gear. Guild warriors, likely. Their passing she eyed with particular interest.


    ¡°Mommy, it has a saddle! Can I ride it?¡± A human toddler girl, at the side of the pavement, pointed to the space behind Evenin. The old dwarf woman felt her face smile again, as she gave the excited little human female a glance.


    ¡°No sweetie¡± a woman next to the child responded, ¡°that¡¯s not ours to ride. Also, it doesn¡¯t look safe.¡±


    Evenin¡¯s eyes departed from the little girl, and she paid the duo no more mind, but just walked on. As she and her procession were passing further into the metropolis, she heard a woman shout from beside the road: ¡°Look! The dwarves are splitting up!¡± Evenin found the woman in the crowd. An urban elf. She followed the woman¡¯s gaze and vaguely pointing arm. Behind in the procession, a sidestreet leading away from the highway, and on towards The Little Mountain, had several wagons of dwarves leaving the caravan. She gave the scene a little look, then ignored it. A few more minutes of marching later, and another voice, reaching through the crowd with a distinctive loud surprise, informed her that another large group of wagons had begun splitting off to join another sidestreet. Glancing back again, she recognized the street that lead to The Iron City. She paid the curious people of the crowd a few glances, then minded them no more. Rather, she fixed her gaze ahead. There, far away but not too far, she saw a truly unfamiliar sight. Iron boxes? With wheels? And gnomes sitting inside them? The boxes all connected together, and were somehow moved flat along the unpaved side of the highway. As her eyes took in the sight, she likened the boxes in her mind to a chain of mine carts. But ahead of these mine carts without a mine, something truly strange was at work. It¡¯s like a smoke-spitting monster shape of iron, but inanimate. All I see are the wheels moving, and the clouds it leave behind its trail. The dead iron-beast, to the smiles of its gnome passengers, pulled its iron-carts along a pair of metallic raised tracks, resting on hard dirt beneath. The speed of it all was nothing to scoff at, and it was heading with full force towards the city center. What on Aclima am I looking at? Evenin did not say the words out loud, though now that she thought about it, this thing reminded her of something. Something she¡¯d read about, in strange reports, and equally strange diplomatic communications.


    That oddity ran away from her sight though, and did not appear again to her, before she and her dwarven caravan were nearing the city walls of Ermos. There, as her procession began closing in on the place, she noticed the iron beast resting beside a small wooden building. No gnomes were in the carts now, but as she watched, a growing crowd of gnomes were opening doors into the carts, and getting inside them. Where¡¯d the other gnomes go? As she looked ahead, through a pair of wide open and thick city gates ¨C The Southern Gates of Ermos ¨C she saw a multitude of gnomes, disappearing in the distance behind stone and wood. Interesting, Evenin wondered, and then noticed something else. A group of human soldiers, standing and waiting beneath the same gates, not looking at either iron beast nor gnome, but at her, and her dwarves.


    Behind her, the mass of dwarves slowly came to halt. Meanwhile, Evenin, as the procession¡¯s head, approached.


    ¡°Are you the envoy we were briefed on?¡± asked a man, one of the soldiers. The old dwarf woman did not immediately respond. Instead, she studied him for a second. Brown, half-long hair, young eyes, an open, expectant expression. Probably no older than his early 20s. Like most of his fellows, the man held a spear in his right hand, while a polished helmet was grasped with the elbow of his left arm. At his belt was a shortsword, sheathed, and he had armor ¨C plate ¨C for his wrists, shoulders, legs, and chest. The basics of a city guard platoon, Evenin concluded, her eyes surveying them.


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    ¡°I am¡± she confirmed, and came to a full stop right in front of the armed men and -women.


    ¡°That¡¯s one interesting animal¡± a female guard commented.


    Evenin glanced a little behind her left shoulder. She was met by the wet snout of a white bear. It sniffed at the air, before touching her cheek affectionately. ¡°He¡¯s fully tame.¡± The great polar animal¡¯s presence imposed upon the nerves of the guards, capturing the full attention of their eyes, even as it did nothing of remark. ¡°And well-behaved. Or at least, it is, if you are¡± she smiled back at the guards.


    ¡°Oh course we are¡± the first guard smiled at her, maybe a little nervous.


    ¡°What¡¯s his name?¡± the female guard inquired.


    ¡°Snowman¡± Evenin smiled. The female guard, smiling and her cheeks flushing, held in a snicker. Though some air abruptly did escape her nose and make a sound.


    ¡°Please, let us escort you to your lodgings.¡± The male guard bowed a little and gestured past his own soldiers, through the gate and on towards the city center.


    Evenin nodded. The soldiers quickly ran into a frontal escort position, and the procession resumed.


    On the other side of the gates, the dwarves were met by the grandeur of The Statues of Heroes. Evenin eyed each stone statue in rememberance of the people she¡¯d met, decades before. They all died to end up here. The were memories of great warriors, great markspeople, great mages, great warlords. Insofar as war can be great. At the corner of her eyes, Evenin saw more wagons depart from the procession. She gave them a few glances, then forgot about them.


    Passing through the grounds of the statues, hundreds of Evenin¡¯s dwarves, mostly robed, and lightly packed, flooded gradually into a large open square. Taking up positions behind Evenin ¨C their caravan leader ¨C the multitudes of dwarves formed an elongated crescent shape. On their left, this mass of dwarves, including Evenin, faced 10 waiting wizards and witches. Representatives of the university, she recognized. On their right, the viscinity of 45 other people waited. Officials and politicans. She knew several of them. The larger group mostly consisted of dwarves, though there was also a whole 9 green-elves there, 2 wild-gnomes, 5 mecha-gnomes, and at least half a dozen humans and urban elves.


    A dwarf among the 45 or so, with a fat piece of golden jewelry around his neck, stepped forth to greet her.


    ¡°Welcome, Mother of The City.¡± The dwarf bowed, then reached forward and took Evenin¡¯s hand, kissing it in respect.


    To their left, some mage stepped forward and started talking to most of the dwarves behind her. She cast an eye towards the mage, but otherwise paid that event little mind. Instead, she faced the dwarf in front of her.


    ¡°It is always amusing to visit Ermos, Chief Stonearmor¡± Evenin responded, ¡°because it always seems like I have so much more status here, than I have in my own mountains.¡±


    The dwarf raised an eyebrow, quickly disagreeing: ¡°Can you really say that, Mother, when you march into our city with over a thousand dwarves on your heels?¡±


    A human man in fine, silver-colored silken pants and -shirt, his fingers full of precious metal rings with large gems, and his back covered by a long red cape elaborately painted, stepped forward to join the conversation. ¡°Speaking of your thousand dwarves: where are they? This surely isn¡¯t a thousand dwarves. It seems more like 2, maybe 3 hundred. And there¡¯s hardly any wagons here.¡±


    ¡°Greetings, Lord Veron.¡± Evenin replied, giving the familiar man a nod. ¡°The caravan split off during the time just before and just after we arrived the gates. The traders and their people have places to be. And most of them, you must understand, have prearranged destinations in The Little Mountain and The Iron City.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡± the man responded. ¡°I did hear you brought some of your mountains¡¯ finest porcelain. I was hoping to quickly acquire some for my household, before the other nobles get their hands all over it.¡± The man gave a small courteous smile, and for a second, the 3 stood there in silence, before Lord Veron continued: ¡°I don¡¯t see any luggage around you. Did you not bring any. Beside this most terrifying beast friend of yours.¡± The man gestured at Snowman, which sniffed mightily in response, capturing the eyes of the Lord into a wary momentary stare.


    ¡°I have my luggage with someone from the homeland. Keil Goatgold, of the Redratall¡¯s Union of Goat Herders. She¡¯s a personal friend, and she¡¯s come to sell our famous goat cheeses. Perhaps¡± she smiled a little extra at Lord Veron, ¡°you should acquire some of that as well, if you go looking for our porcelain later.¡±


    ¡°Heh¡± Lord Veron laughed the faintest of laughs, then went into a smile. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll have to check it out.¡±


    At the left side of the square, the only present wizard not to have beard was concluding his speech. It was an urban elf, with long silver-white hair, green-blue eyes, a simple but fine blue robe with purple collars, a metal badge on his chest, and a huge piece of jewelry hanging from his neck ¨C one that was visibly emanating magic.


    ¡°At sunset tonight¡± the elf proclaimed, ¡°a massive outdoor welcoming dinner for you all will be hosted at the university grounds in our park. You¡¯re all free to attend, and all of us¡± the wizard gestured at the nearby wizards and witches, ¡°will be there in attendance with you. You¡¯ll have a chance to ask us questions, or get acquainted, either with us, or with many of your senior students, who will also be attending. Now, if you¡¯ll all just follow after, we¡¯ll take you to your dormitories.¡±


    Upon hearing and seeing the last word being spoken, the many dwarves in front of the mage began shuffling their feet forward. Slowly, they, along with the 9 wizards and witches, were moving to follow the urban elf as he turned to march deeper into the city. Evenin stole a moment to gaze at the wizards and witches. She saw 2 mecha-gnomes, a wild-gnome, a dwarf, 2 green-elves, and 3 humans. They were obviously mages. The aesthetic was all there. All robes, with many pieces of jewelry at their necks and fingers. Some had staffs in their hands, some had wands at their belt. Their hats were large and pointy, even their shoes were pointy, for whatever unfathomable reason, Evenin wondered, and they had the kinds of messy hair and half-done beards that spoke to a lack of priority in their looks. They were powerful, though, and Evenin knew all of them. If not by direct acquaintance, then by reading reports of the going-ons at the university. They all had power levels estimated in the few hundreds. Collectively, these wizards and witches are strong enough to defeat an army on the battlefield. So had been the conclusion of her dwarven allies back home. Powerful, very powerful, Evenin told herself. Today though, these powerful people had ¨C and reluctantly so, going by their bored expressions and slow responses ¨C been relegated to greeting a host of new dwarven students. The green-blue-eyed urban elf leading them, she knew him too.


    ¡°Erdonom, Head and Master Mage, of The Department of First Year Students.¡± Evenin said, as Chief Stonearmor, Lord Veron, and the many others that¡¯d waited for her, watched the mages leave. Behind Evenin, dozens of other diplomats and their aides from The Dwarven States were left still standing, and trying to look patient. After the traders and now the mages-to-be had split from what had, until just an hour ago, been a caravan proper, this was all that remained. Us the politicians.


    ¡°Indeed¡± Lord Veron let out, though his word was meant for the name she¡¯d just dropped. The Lord turned to face her. ¡°Shall we perhaps escort you and your dwarven friends to the houses we¡¯ve made available for you? And¡° the man gestured at Snowman, ¡°perhaps a stable for the bear?¡±


    The bear in question took a lazy step forward, and Evenin grabbed her bestial friend¡¯s head without looking, pulling his snout in for a casual neck hug. ¡°His name is Snowman. And Snowman is my bodyguard, Lord Veron, and thus: an indoor bear.¡±


    Lord Veron raised both eyebrows briefly, but then questioned the matter no further. ¡°Of course, as you wish.¡±


    What followed next was a brief period of mingling, as the dwarven diplomats were welcomed forward, and the rest of the city officials and politicans approached, and they all got together and started greeting and introducing each other. Politic-ing. Eventually though, this chatting and pleasantry came to a conclusion, and Lord Veron once again took the word: ¡°Should we perhaps escourt you all to your prepared housing? I¡¯m sure more than a few of you must be terribly tired after this very long journey.¡±


    More than a few dwarves agreed to that, and the welcoming committee of 45 or so began guiding dwarves to various places. For some time, many of the diplomats would walk along the same streets, sometimes talking over to each other, but as they began moving deeper and deeper into the city, fewer and fewer diplomats and their aides walked together. This all happened gradually, up until Evenin felt herself guided only by Lord Veron, the city guards from before, and a few of Lord Veron¡¯s personal guards. The latter had inconspicuously merged in with the crowd over time, descending from hidden guard positions along the shadows and corners of the streets. Evenin had noticed them, but not been alarmed. She knew Lord Veron, and she knew how he managed his security.


    ¡°You already know this of course from our messenger¡± the man began another topic as they walked, ¡°but I¡¯d like to tell you personally that the dinner party at my estate tomorrow is going as planned, and we have a large amount of guests attending. We¡¯ve even had to accomodate some from The Little Mountain and The Iron City, who¡¯ve insisted on getting to meet you and your associates before The Yellow Chamber meeting. You know what the gnomes want, I assume?¡± He gave her a look.


    ¡°Their desires and proposals have been made quite clear to us all.¡± Evenin confirmed.


    ¡°Well then, I assume also it¡¯ll be brought up more than once tomorrow. Your guided tour of the university in 3 days is also going as planned, the mages have been unusually excited about your visit. Apparently they¡¯ve encountered some great breakthroughs in their studies.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡± Evenin nodded with appropriate surprise, ¡°sounds exciting.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡± Lord Veron nodded. ¡°Also, as I understand your plan, The Little Mountain wants to host a grand banquet of their own in your honor, the day after tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve received many invitations to parties, but I¡¯ve had to turn most of them down. My priorities for this visit will not be to make new acquaintances ¨C however nice I am sure they all would be ¨C but to assess the state of the city and the land. Next year is the 100th year anniversary of the start of our substantial aid to Ermos, and I¡¯ve been tasked with finding out if the venture has been a full success, and whether continued support for Ermos is...¡± she took a serious sounding inward breath, ¡°necessary.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡± Lord Veron let out, suddenly and visibly a little taken aback by the burden that¡¯d just been revealed to lie on his shoulders. He was silent for a little moment as they continued walking north-east, between increasingly luxurious architecture, and cleaner streets, on towards The Marble District. ¡°I hear your mornings for the next 2 days are also taken. And now that I hear you say it, the purpose of those other tours you wish to make seem rather apparent.¡±


    ¡°Yes¡± Evenin acknowledged, ¡°I wish to see how far Ermos City has developed, since my last visit almost a decade ago.¡±


    The 2, along with Snowman and the guards, continued on and into The Marble District. Their arrival there was immediately clear. They passed among several ostentatious houses with statues and fountains and overdone hedges. Although many people though, Evenin remarked, might not think these homes as houses. I know more than a few who¡¯d probably call these minor palaces. She gazed towards one particularly grand home at her side of the street. There, her eyes followed a well-crafted spiralling wooden stairway, leading up, up a wooden tower built into one of the sides of a house. As her gaze reached the top there, her ears picked up a relaxed chat, while her eyes spied the backs of a human and an urban elf, sitting on dining chairs, drinking from tall glasses, their arms leaning against a wooden railing, with their view probably overlooking the city. The line between house and palace is certainly a little blurred here, she noted. This particular grandeur would not last forever though. Soon, these grandest of homes made way for the slightly less ostentatious ones, and arriving at some new more moderate streets, one particular house stood out there. As this house was waiting ¨C for Evenin. The envoy eyed it. She remarked to herself that it, too, was a grand house in its own way, with a large lush garden, and lots of rooms. But certainly a step down among the wealthiest of the wealthiest. She knew in advance that this house would be at her disposal for the entirety of her mission¡¯s duration. An expensive gift, a sign of respect, and an attempted purchase of goodwill, by the very rich Lord who¡¯d walked her, and which was now coming to a stop right next to her. Evenin stopped as well, and Lord Veron turned to look down, and into her face.


    ¡°Here it is. I wish for your stay here to be most comfortable¡± the Lord gave her a bow of the head. Several human and an urban elf servant waited for her at the door.


    ¡°Thanks for the walk, Lord Veron.¡± Evenin gave a slight head-bow back.


    ¡°We¡¯ll see each other tomorrow then, Mother of The City, as the dwarven elders call you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you at the dinner party¡± Evenin confirmed. The Lord gave one last bow, and then turned around, both he and his guards walking away. Away and into a low-hanging evening sun.


    ¡°Do you wish for us to stand guard at your door, envoy?¡± It was the soldier from before, that male human city guard with brown half-long hair.


    Evenin gestured with an elegant hand at her Snowman. ¡°I have all the security I need, soldier.¡±


    The soldier gave an immediate and quick military bow. ¡°Then we wish you a good evening, envoy. We¡¯ll take our leave.¡±


    Evenin watched them go for a few seconds. Then she turned back to face her new house. There, she was met by some very white human and elven faces. They looked absolutely terrified. For a moment, Evenin looked at their white faces in confusion, but then she blew air from her nose and shook her head in a smile at them. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry¡± she stepped back and patted her massive white bear, ¡°Snowman is a very good bear. With him, your safety is only increased. He doesn¡¯t eat either humans nor elves.¡± Or at least not anymore, the old dwarf mentally added. She stepped forward, and the servants created a very wide space between them, as she first, stepped up the walkway, and entered the open door. Behind her, and lumbering with his great and mighty paws, came Snowman. The bear followed her ¨C in with his companion.


    Inside, that is to say, with the Mother of The City.

 Ch. 7: Celestial Gifts; The Envoy

    ¡°I am Senior Mage Nusam, of the Lordship of Basom ¨C Evenin of Redratall.¡± The urban elf wizard, standing over 2 meters tall, bowed his head while putting a hand to his heart. The sleek pointy-eared man wore a simple blue robe with purple colors, identical to those of Master Mage Erdonom 3 days earlier. Like Erdonom, he wore a badge on the left side of his chest, one which Evenin now could see up close for first time. The thing shone under the morning sun of one of The Flipped University¡¯s upside-down tower entrances. It was an insignia. A square piece of silver metal, its surface slightly curved outwards. Upon the silver was etched an oversimplified, blocky, horizontal view sketch of the university¡¯s upside-down main building, colored in a contrasting black. Last time she was here, no mage wore this.


    ¡°I thank you for meeting me, Senior Mage Nusam. I¡¯m guessing that you all¡± Evenin eyed a series of mages standing right behind him at the end of the ramp to the tower, ¡°are all here to accompany me for the tour?¡±


    ¡°Quite so¡± Nusam nodded. ¡°Let me present to you 4 Master Mages, and some of our university¡¯s finest Scholars of Magic.¡± He turned to face them. ¡°This¡± he pointed first to the right-most individual, ¡°is Sher, she¡¯s the head mage leading the research project you might already have heard about. The project has us all so very excited, and we hope to tell you lots about it later today.¡±


    Evenin looked at a human witch, immediately notable as she was hatless. No tall pointy hat for this woman. Beyond missing a hat though, this woman was also noticeably short, with a big belly, round cheeks, double-chin, long thick brown hair, and just a single silver ring on her right hand finger. She also wore a diffuse slightly dark red robe. The eyes of the woman though, what intense gleaming, Evenin not just noticed her, but felt the presence of the woman too, on her very being. That woman, she¡¯s like one of those scholars absolutely obsessed with the pursuit of knowledge. Or at least so much Evenin felt compelled to guess, coming face-to-face with this human being. I¡¯d think, with that expression of hers, if my soul was a book: this person would not just steal me, but she¡¯d steal me right here, right now, just to hurry off somewhere, and immediately read me in a corner chair. The old dwarf woman barely contained a smile as the picture formed in her mind. Only a scholar true and through can carry such an intense amount of happiness on their face, just a short while before they¡¯ll have to talk about their research.


    Nusam moved to the next person, and Evenin¡¯s eyes followed after, though with a slight tardiness. ¡°This one is Rurf Greystone.¡± He pointed at a relaxed dwarf man standing next to the intensely excited-looking Sher. ¡°He is the archivist, librarian and professional book-hunter of this research group. His exploits in acquiring rare scrolls and tomes from the far south, and even saving looted treasures from The City of Scholars no less ¨C it has all been invaluable for the work we¡¯ve been doing.¡± You sure it¡¯s not the woman next to him that¡¯s the book-hunter? Evenin caught another glance of Sher. If there¡¯s anyone giving off book-HUNTER vibes, it¡¯s her.


    She returned her glance back to the male dwarf, and gave him a nod of respect. She got the briefest of polite nods back. Rurf had less muscle than most male dwarves, but, now that Evenin looked, that beard, what a magnificent beard, it reached all the way down to his knees. Knees wearing cotton pants, not a robe, Evenin wondered, and his chest, that¡¯s a tight linen shirt. The dwarf man was also bald, and he had decidedly thick eyebrows. Evenin kinda liked his style, he reminded her of Ord. Even if Ord always wore a robe. Her mind touching and reaching into the memory of her tutor, that dwarf girl, and that younger dwarf woman inside her, they both felt a little sad, or long-full. Her dwarf friend had died a little over 20 years ago. But the feelings, the affection, much of it remained inside, lying dormant as life went on, only to be awoken in chance instances like these.


    ¡°This one is Metosi.¡± Nusam¡¯s finger had moved to the 3rd member of the quartet, and Evenin quickly escaped out of her mind¡¯s journey to nostalgia, and shifted her gaze to pay attention. Another human witch, okay. This woman was tall. That¡¯s the first thing Evenin noticed. Second was the brown short-cut hair above a firm, but kind, facial expression. Her body was slender, and her posture disciplined. A stark contrast to Sher in almost every way. ¡°Metosi is our foremost scholar of the gods. Few people could claim to even approach her knowledge in the literature about them. A truly remarkable individual.¡±


    Nusam moved speedily over to the last individual. A third human witch. This one had long, but yet again brown, hair. She was more average looking, with an attempted disciplined posture that was betrayed by an excited smile. ¡°At last¡±, the elf man raised his finger to point, ¡°we have Sera. She is our Advanced Magic Fundamentals expert. A former student of Irridiklara, she is one of our brightest minds, and one of our most hardworking mages. Another remarkable individual.¡±


    ¡°Good meeting you all.¡± Evenin gave a another bow, her silver-white braided hair dangling a little as her head went down slightly.


    ¡°Is the bear coming with us?¡± It was Sera who asked the question, her hand vaguely gesturing to behind Evenin, and her face turned unsure.


    ¡°The bear¡± Nusam answered loudly for all to hear, ¡°is Evenin of Redratall¡¯s bodyguard. As we do not wish to deprive the envoy of her security: wherever the Mother of The City goes today, it will follow.¡±


    Sera did not follow up her question, and her subsequent neutral expression did not reveal any uneasiness either.


    A few more, mostly useless, pleasantries later, and Evenin and her bear stepped a foot and a paw over the little gap separating ramp from tower. Instantly, Evenin felt the arresting force of the upside-down tower, that colorless magic of the tower window, seizing its hold of her body, as both beings were caught in the effect of an enchantment. Once more in my life, Evenin remarked, I get to have this most strangest of all my experiences. It was the not totally unknown, but still very unfamiliar feeling, of being first lifted up into the air, then brought around in a 180 degrees slow spin, while feeling the entirety of the world¡¯s gravitational force abruptly switch direction. What a totally bizarre experience this must be for my Snowman, Evenin looked over at her similarly rotating bear. She landed gently on the tower¡¯s stone floor, not that the gentleness made it all any less strange. It took her at least a couple of seconds to reorient herself. On her right side, her white companion was also gently landed on his 4 paws. Touching the stone floor though, the furry friend glanced over at his dwarf companion, before putting a paw to his snout and head, as if experiencing a sudden onset of animal headache.


    ¡°Haha¡± Evenin laughed a little at Snowman. ¡°You okay Snowman?¡± She came over to touch his furry head. ¡°Was that a strange experience?¡± She spoke the words calmly, nurturing, before lightly wrapping her arms around his neck and head. His paw came down to the stone again.


    ¡°Is the bear alright?¡± Nusam spoke, being landed right next to the duo.


    ¡°He¡¯s fine¡± Evenin replied without concern, ¡°just his first time. I dare say it was a strange experience for me also, my first time.¡±


    ¡°Everyone has a first time!¡± Sher offered enthusiastically as she landed. ¡°Should we get going immediately?¡± As her sentence ended, the 3 others: Sera, Rurf and Metosi, all arrived in short order. Giving each other looks, the party of 5 plus a bear did not find reason to delay, and so thus, with Nusam taking the lead, the group promptly began their tour of university¡¯s iconic main building.


    ¡°You probably know most of the rooms here pretty well?¡± Nusam asked without looking back at Evenin. ¡°Since you¡¯ve been here before so many times. You were even present when the first stone was set, were you not?¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right¡± Evenin recognized a few rooms as she passed them by. They were classrooms, some of which she¡¯d been inside, some storage rooms, never had a reason to enter those, and there was a laboratory she recognized. Here, students learned anatomy, and of course, those rare powers which it lead to: The Anatomical Magics. The latter, Evenin had some acquaintance with. Not as a practioner herself of course, she had no magic herself, but as one who¡¯d visited the university several times before, and as a diplomat and politician, who¡¯d had to familiarize herself with the more sinister magics of Aclima. There were 2 gods of The Anatomical Magics which was studied here, though rarer and lesser known ones existed. The first was the goddess Morvee, whose spells cured tissue and ruptured bodies. Morvee The Organister, that¡¯s what they called her. A goddess both saviour and terror, Evenin recalled. Another god whose magic they¡¯d teach was Blouf, God of Sickness and Decay. Known as Rotten Blouf, his magics too, was one of both damage and healing. More commonly associated with sinister war-magic and the magics of assassination ¨C the way Evenin came to know of him ¨C a mastery of the magics of Rotten Blouf also allowed the wielder to attack diseases with counter-disease. Something that was surprisingly capable of saving another person¡¯s life. For instance, Rotten Blouf was also known as The Bane of Cancer. The reason for which was that mastery of his magic could keep a cancer sufferer well and alive all the way through to a normal lifespan, and there existed mages who specialized in Rotten Blouf for that precise reason.


    ¡°Envoy?¡± It was Nusam speaking. Evenin had stopped. She was staring into the lab. As usual, it had spots of blood on its wooden tables, and the remains of animals. Along 2 walls, cages kept rats, frogs and sparrows, alive and weary. The poor beasts had a direct view into the terrible fate that awaited them, any day now. A scene most macabre. Evenin did not respond to Nusam, but merely relaxed her slightly disturbed expression, turned back to the urban elven man, and continued walking, slowly. Nusam continued leading. ¡°I can see how our Student Anatomy Laboratory caught your eyes, normally we¡¯re supposed to keep that particular door closed.¡±


    Evenin did not initially reply. She wasn¡¯t horrified, nor terrified. It was an element of mental disturbance, indeed, but she was old, and had seen many worse things in her life. She tried to give the impression that she was okay.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen it all before¡± she said after a short while.


    ¡°Of course¡± Nusam replied. ¡°Now¡± with a hand-motion, he turned her attention to an upcoming room along the stone corridor they were in, ¡°this here on the left is a room dedicated to a most interesting recent artifact that we have unconvered.¡± The room¡¯s door appeared shut and locked. Nusam stopped in front of it, and reached his large elven right hand into an even larger pocket at the side of his blue robe. His hand soon resurfacing, the elf brought out a large chain of keys. Evenin¡¯s eyes fixed on them. Every key on the chain, at their blade, glowed with differing patterns of blue magic. The things fascinated Evenin¡¯s dwarven eyes. Flicking through a dozen or so keys, Nusam found a key that looked fairly inconspicuous. Staring a bit at it, as if unsure, the elf stepped over to the door, putting the key in the hole. As he turned the key, the keyhole lit up in a minor magical flash of blue. Evenin had seen it all before of course, but the fact that a door may only be opened one of 2 ways: either by a unique magical key, or by blasting it to pieces with massive magical force ¨C this level of security has always fascinated me. The door swung open at Nusam¡¯s gentle push, and the elf, without waiting or saying a word, stepped inside.


    Evenin followed, and Snowman, barely fitting the door frame, followed her. Inside, the room was dark. At its edges were a few closets, a couple of chairs, a small table, and a leftover rotten apple on a shiny silver metal plate, that Evenin could see. ¡°Lights¡± Nusam spoke, and suddenly the ceiling lit up. When she looked up, Evenin saw the signs of enchanted magical patterns visible on the sides of a ball of glass hanging from the centerpoint of the room¡¯s ceiling.


    ¡°Are ceiling lights, commanded by words, a new fashion at the university?¡± Evenin wondered out loud.


    Nusam followed Evenin¡¯s gaze up at the ball of glass shining an almost dim orange light. ¡°We¡¯ve made it for a few rooms here. But it¡¯s tedious work, and there¡¯s only one mage here who will, occassionally, take on the task of making them happen. But, the light is not what I wish to show you. Look towards the center.¡± Nusam pointed with his hand, and in so doing, guided Evenin¡¯s eyes down to look into the center of the room.


    The envoy paused, stared, raised an eyebrow, and then asked: ¡°What is it? What am I looking at?¡±


    ¡°A footstool!¡± Nusam announced, almost prideful. In the stool¡¯s presence, the elf suddenly attained a new level of energy.


    ¡°A footstool?¡± Evenin felt her face grow skeptical. Beside her, Snowman let out a sound that could¡¯ve been interpreted as a mini-growl of disappointment.


    Nusam looked at the bear, and then at Evenin. ¡°Not just any footstool! It¡¯s The Footstool of Gardamosh!¡±


    The old dwarf woman responded to his excitement with a blank look and slightly open mouth. Not following him at all.


    ¡°The Footstool of Gardamosh, Evenin of Redratall! Gardamosh is the 3rd god of dreams, sleep and leisure! Gardamosh The Relaxed! You know his name, I¡¯d be surprised if you didn¡¯t.¡±


    Evenin blinked. ¡°Yes, of course I know his name. I know he¡¯s the 3rd god of dreams, and so on. But, please explain the footstool.¡± She gestured at the piece of furniture. It was a good-looking footstool, in all respects. It was made out of 3 thick pillows, stacked on top of each other, sewn together, and carried by 4 short wooden legs, that actually looked like human feet. Disturbingly life-like, really, Evenin mentally remarked. The pillows were all orange, with yellow strips on the edges. An elaborate piece of art was painted on the topmost pillow, depicting a slumbering party of elves if Evenin¡¯s eyes were working right.


    ¡°The Footstool of Gardamosh is an artifact of god-level ability. We do not yet know the full range of its power, but written legends say that a person who lay their feet on it, can literally daydream themselves to far-away lands.¡± Nusam took on a face that seemed to promise mystical wonders. ¡°The way the texts have described it, a person will make a copy of themselves, a ghostly shape by the accounts, which will appear in whatever real place they choose to daydream about. Their consciousness then become this other ghostly body for as long as they dream away. When their dreaming ends, they return to their original body. It¡¯s a fantastic power.¡± Nusam clutched his fist in front of Evenin¡¯s face. ¡°Imagine all we could do with it.¡± He opened his palm again, and the elf closed his eyes, appearing to daydream himself away, to some ancient story or whatever. Nusam¡¯s eyes opened again. ¡°Gardamosh used it for many journeys into lands so far away even you, Evenin of Redratall, with your education, your seniority, and your profession, you will most likely never hear of them in your entire life.¡±


    Evenin looked at the furniture with a renewed respect. ¡°Sounds indeed quite powerful. Your people have used this power?¡±


    ¡°Ehm¡± Nusam responded, faltering some, ¡°sadly, for now, this is legend. Though we very much anticipate one day to figure out how.¡± His face looked a little uneasy with the question, and his earlier excitement gave way to traces of hidden stress. ¡°In the meanwhile, we have discovered 2 others powers. We know, for instance, that an exhausted mage, who has spent all his mana, may have his mana-pool refilled in almost no time, were he to place his feet on it and rest. And we know that sleeping in a chair, while resting ones feet on it, will trigger powerful vivid dreams that may in fact influence reality all around. But, we¡¯re not really sure¡± the elf put his head down in defeat and sighed, ¡°we think that a mage can learn to take control of their vivid dream to change the reality outside here, but trials so far have yielded indeterminate results. We know something happens, but not quite how to control what happens.¡± He sighed again. ¡°Once a wizard sat down in the chair, put his foot on the footstool, and, as if on cue, when his stomach accidentally rumbled, a full fried chicken manifested on a silver plate, on that very table.¡± He pointed at the table with the apple on a silver plate. ¡°We ate it, of course, for science. And we kept the plate. It seems to be nothing but an ordinary plate, and the chicken did not appear to be magical. The apple, if you wonder, is just one of my colleagues who has failed to clean up after himself.¡± Evenin thought she might¡¯ve detected a hint of irritation in Nusam¡¯s voice. ¡°But yeah¡± he gestured at the mighty Footstool of Gardamosh. ¡°It¡¯s pretty amazing, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°It is.¡± Or at least it might become amazing, Evenin told herself with more honesty, but until you make progress here, the value of this finding of yours is but a big unknown. For a moment, they all just stood there, silent, staring at the stool. However, Evenin had to eventually break the moment with her curiosity: ¡°Where did you find it?¡±


    ¡°It was uncovered in a dungeon expedition¡± Nusam responded.


    ¡°Indeed¡± Sher abruptly added from Evenin¡¯s side.


    ¡°It was uncovered by my kin¡± Rurf Greystone joined from behind. ¡°2 of my Greystone brothers found it, with their party, when they were clearing a dungeon that was trying to establish itself close to The Stronghold of Wintershield.¡±


    Wintershield Stronghold, Evenin¡¯s mind echoed, the last dwarven stronghold of The Three Brothers¡¯ Mountains. The dwarves of Ermos send their kin there, to keep holding this last position of their mountains. She stared at Rurf¡¯s face. Their last symbol of hope, for reconquest. She opened her mouth, paused for a second, then spoke: ¡°Your brothers serve at the stronghold?¡±


    ¡°Aye¡± Rurf closed his eyes in a deep nod.


    ¡°We think¡± Nusam began, and Evenin shifted her eyes to him, ¡°that it was meant as a bribe, from the senior dungeon lords. The target of the bribe was this younger upstart, whom they wanted to assume the risk involved in antagonizing the stronghold and our guilds.¡±


    ¡°A risk he must be regretting, I suppose¡± Evenin stated the obvious.


    ¡°Indeed¡± Nusam replied. ¡°But now, should we perhaps move to the next item on our tour?¡±


    Evenin nodded, and nobody else said anything, so the group got out of the room, locked the door with the magical key, and moved down the stone corridor. The moderately-sized passage lead into an intersection, at one end of which was a long, broad, stone stairway. They walked down it, getting to the next floor, which of course, since their building was upside down, was technically, at least from the outside perspective, one floor up, even if for them, it was down. We walk down, to walk up.


    That completely normal sentence in her mind, Evenin, her Snowman, and the 4 other mages, were all lead down a new corridor by Nusam. Again, Evenin had been here before, so she spotted another familiar classroom, a reading room for students, a faculty meeting room, and a small kitchen wherein stood a witch, frying an egg in a pan on a heat-enchanted black iron stove. The witch, the brief moment Evenin got to look at her, looked tired, and hungry. She didn¡¯t even notice the group moving by.


    ¡°Now, when we round this corner, you¡¯ll see¨C¡± Nusam rounded the corner, but then, his face full of surprise, immediately jumped to the left side of the new corridor. Evenin, walking closely behind the tall elf, did not see what he¡¯d jumped away from, and thus, it hit her, in full.


    THUD-THUD! The old dwarf woman got a tower books right in the face with an absolutely abnormal amount of force. Staggering backwards and falling to the ground, Evenin saw books landing everywhere before her, as a tall bearded man looked to be staggering back himself, though without falling like she¡¯d done.


    ¡°RUM WARMHUD!¡± The face of Nusam flared up instantly with anger. ¡°How DARE you knock over the dwarven envoy to Ermos!¡±


    To the right of Evenin¡¯s vision, Snowman let out a growl of his own, and the great bear¡¯s paws lumbered forward in a couple of sudden steps, interposing himself between this new man and Evenin.


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    ¡°Oufh¡± the new mage on the scene uttered. As Evenin got a view of him, she saw him wearing a fresh yellow robe. The mage had just regained his balance, and looked straight across the floor, over at her, in-between giving her lightly growling Snowman a couple of eye-casts. Evenin herself, still splayed on the floor, started collecting herself. She began by pulling her arms together, and rolling over on her belly, whereupon she began pushing herself up. She didn¡¯t have to push much though, as Sera and Sher quickly came rushing over to help pull the old dwarf up. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, everyone¡± the new mage apologized, before getting down to stack his books again.


    Nusam, standing beside the mess of books, breathed out an aggressive sigh, watching the mage pick up the books and bring them back to a newly formed stack. ¡°Rum, I expect you to take considerably more care of where you are going next time. To run over Evenin of Redratall, the Mother of The City, is next to a crime! Even if done on accident. You piece of a dropout should feel ashamed!¡± Nusam waved over at the rest of the master mages and Evenin, and the group walked around the mage dropout as he collected his books. The last one to follow was Snowman, which growled close to Rum¡¯s face as the human picked up his last book next to one of the bear¡¯s great front paws. In response to the growl, Rum just gave the bear¡¯s eyes and snout a little extra look, before calmly getting back to his now rebuilt tower of knowledge. In a single effortless motion, the man lifted the books up and stood on his feet. Not waiting for anyone or anything, the mage dropout continued on speed-walking down the corridor, as if nothing had happened. Nusam gave the back of the other mage a last look, before continuing their walk, leading the group away from the scene, and over towards their next destination.


    ¡°Senior Mage Nusam¡± Evenin began, ¡°may I ask, just for curiosity¡¯s sake, who that man was?¡±


    ¡°That man?¡± He shot her a look. ¡°He¡¯s a mage, or former mage that is, of the university. Don¡¯t worry about him. In my professional opinion, he¡¯s nothing but an insignificant, eccentric nagger, who has regained access to our university despite not being a faculty member. Some of the faculty members say they like having him around. They say he¡¯s intellectually stimulating.¡± Nusam added quotation marks with his fingers. ¡°Though I think he¡¯s nothing but trouble. In fact, there¡¯s a story circulating here about him, one you¡¯d most likely find near unbelievable. But, I can promise you, it is real.¡±


    ¡°Oh, what story?¡± Evenin felt the prospect of gossip rise her interest. Noticing her own feelings though, she tried calming that same interest some. Don¡¯t want myself acting in ways unbefitting of an envoy, after all.


    ¡°That man¡± the elf, without looking, gestured a few fingers over his shoulder, ¡°haven gotten the chance of a lifetime, to hold a presentation for our faculty members: he peed in front of them. In front, of Irridiklara.¡±


    Evenin felt her lips crack a smile. ¡°He did what?¡±


    ¡°The man peed in front of the faces of 3 faculty members, including the esteemed Irridiklara, during his presentation. THAT man, he has zero respect for authority, zero concern for rules and boundaries, and no awareness of his position. He just goes around doing whatever he wants.¡± The wizard shook his head while swirling a finger around the air for emphasis. ¡°As I said: nothing but trouble.¡±


    Evenin burst out laughing, her cheeks quickly turning ripe tomato. I¡¯m dying, she wished she could¡¯ve shouted the words, someone save me! This laugh ¨C my chest, my arms, my legs! Consumed by the mental image, Evenin rapidly lost all her composure.


    ¡°His presentation¡± Nusam continued, ignoring Evenin¡¯s collapse of professionalism, ¡°was supposed to be for some new magic he claimed to have made, a godless magic. Shuh.¡± The elf pretended to shudder. ¡°But Irridiklara uncovered that ridiculous claim for the fake promise it was.¡±


    Evenin had to lean on the sturdy back of Snowman as she felt herself nearly falling to her knees, laughing the best laugh she¡¯d had in years.


    ¡°He he he, ha ha¡± A tear slid down her cheek and into Snowman¡¯s fur. Snowman turned to her with his snout, curious at his woman¡¯s behaviour. ¡°It¡¯s nothing¡± but she laughed some more, ¡°ha ha, heh, it¡¯s nothing Snowman. Just...¡± she heaved a breath, and turned to Senior Mage Nusam, who was waiting patiently for her legs to start working again. ¡°I find the story indeed nearly unbelievable. I must admit, it¡¯s not a context I ever thought my mind would put Irridiklara in.¡±


    ¡°Indeed¡± Nusam responded dryly, not sharing in her humor, though not signalling disapproval either.


    Eventually, Evenin managed to steady herself and resume her composure, her tomato red cheeks calming down some. ¡°Haaah¡± she let out a breath, ¡°I¡¯m good, I¡¯m better.¡±


    ¡°Excellent news¡± the elf responded with more dryness, and promptly turned about. Once more, the group managed to get going. The episode was soon forgotten, and the senior mage guided Evenin and the others towards a couple of other minor artifacts, or ¡°intermediate stops¡±, as he¡¯d called them, before they¡¯d show her the main event of the day, later.


    Nusam unlocked the door to the first such room and stepped inside. Almost as soon as Evenin had gotten inside there with him, he raised his hands wide and open in a dramatized reveal: ¡°Behold!¡± He paused for effect. ¡°The Needle of Endless Snot.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Evenin heard herself asking, as they stood in front of the first minor artifact.


    ¡°This tiny thin dagger¡±, Evenin looked, and the thing lying on a pillow sat on a pedestal in the middle of the room was, indeed, no longer than her hand, and no thicker than a few blades of grass, ¡°¨Cit was also uncovered from another dungeon lord. And, it is a famous weapon. A weapon of gods, in fact. They used it to curse each other. That¡¯s how powerful it is. Enough to give a god nuisance.¡± He gave her a rare smile. ¡°According to legend, a single stab anywhere on the body, and the victim will experience the symptoms of the common cold ¨C FOREVER!¡± He paused only to give her the most intense, wide-eyed, close-up, dramatic expression. ¡°Perpetual sickness! And there is no cure ¨C no known to the peoples at least. Only the greatest wisdom and the most secret techniques of another powerful god may dispel the effect. This is what its lore tell us. And we can, at least to some extent, verify that claim. We have experimented with the curse on a minor, former dungeon lord. In Andertun. We promised him the opportunity for probation in 20 years, IF¡± Nusam raised his finger, and wobbled it, ¡°he agreed to be a test subject. And, from our tests on him, we can conclude that: there is no magic ¨C no magic known to this university or to any of its good contacts ¨C that can dispel the curse.¡±


    ¡°So, this dungeon lord¡± Evenin sought to clarify, ¡°he will now have the common cold for the remainder of his life?¡±


    ¡°Precisely, Evenin of Redratall.¡± Nusam nodded.


    She said nothing more, but eyed the thing, a mild fear creeping around at the back of her mind. What a curse.


    Moving out of the room with the others, Evenin relaxed some. That thing unnerved me. Her eyes gave it one last glance before the door shut and Nusam¡¯s magical key locked it away.


    They continued down another corridor for the next minor artifact. After a few minutes they reached its room, and Nusam guided them all inside. Inside to a grand room. Almost immediately, Evenin noted how this looked to once have been an event hall, a place for dance and party. It had, in contrast to the rest of the building, a fine wooden floor. But not just that, isn¡¯t that a whole lot of fine chairs and tables stacked against the walls and corners? Whatever it had once been though, now, this room had gotten a new purpose, though that wouldn¡¯t had been so clear unless she¡¯d known what was supposed to lay in here, vaguely speaking. At its center, there was but a small table, 2 dining chairs, a kettle, and a sealed jar of something small. To the envoy, it just looked like a very small party about to start, but she knew that wasn¡¯t so.


    ¡°The Teabag of Solitude!¡± Nusam announced, gesturing with the whole of his right arm, his legs standing for another pose. At his announcement, nobody said a thing. Evenin just raised her eyebrow, again. I have been impressed before though, so maybe I shouldn¡¯t prejudge this one? She and Nusam, followed by the others, walked slowly over to the small table. The teabag, the envoy could see, was but the size of 3 dwarven or human thumbs. It looked quite like any normal teabag. Its content was some kind of dark red, maybe even purple, grain.


    ¡°So. It¡¯s a teabag. But what does it do?¡± Evenin asked, trying to sound curious, which of course she was, though maybe for other reasons than Nusam may hope.


    ¡°The Teabag of Solitude, Evenin, is an artifact created by a great witch of the old times. 2 thousand years ago, more or less. A witch called Hekna.¡± He dropped the name with some emphasis, and then let it hang in the air for a bit. ¡°As the story goes, she was apparently very popular in a by-gone land to the east and south ¨C past your dwarven mountains.¡± He made another pause to let her mind search for a bit. ¡°Powerful as she was, she had become quite popular with the locals, who found her able to heal their wounds, multiply their crops during famine, and replant their forests when the deserts threatened to take over ¨C all with magic. However¡± and the elf almost looked sorry, as if recounting the story of his own life, ¡°with popularity, also came a kind of fame. People, from all the places near this land, would all send her invitations for tea parties. We even know a dwarven clan chief, from your Young Mountains, who sent her an invitation.¡± He nodded at her, as if she was to be impressed or moved by the statement. She was neither. ¡°In the end, and as might be expected, she became thoroughly tired of all this tea-drinking and gatherings. So, she started to decline their offers. Problem was, people knew where she lived. So when the witch stopped going to their tea parties, they started bringing the tea parties over to her place. And as you can imagine, The Teabag of Solitude was her last and most desperate solution to this problem. She didn¡¯t have the social skills ¨C that is our guess ¨C to adequately communicate her need for solitude. So, she created this item ¨C an ever-lasting teabag. However, before you mind goes anywhere: that aspect, in fact, is the least interesting thing about this artifact.¡± Nusam paused speaking and stepped half a circle round the table. ¡°When brewed, like in this kettle here¡± he patted the fine earthenware, ¡°the tea will produce a curse, kind-of. It¡¯s difficult to describe precisely. The texts call it The Face Fright. When drank, any faces looked upon during the minutes that follow will become associated with a kind of shame, or ominousness.¡± The elf tipped his head side-to-side while looking at the teabag with an uncertain face. ¡°An expectation, more likely, of shame. Or, maybe put it another way, one might say: it affects the individual with a very particular social anxiety, that only triggers in the presence of those other faces. It¡¯s a relatively mild effect, not totalizing at all. It can be resisted, and vanes completely, the texts document, within a year or 2. But its long-term effects are undeniable, and there does not appear to be much of a way to dispel the magic. Only a pure force of willpower, a kind of stubborn self-discipline, may resist it, and only for a short time. Attempts to resist it any further will induce an absolutely crippling attack of anxiety.¡±


    Evenin eyed it for a moment, everyone else staying silent. ¡°Have you tried it on anyone?¡± she lifted her eyes back to Nusam.


    ¡°Yes¡± the elf nodded. ¡°Another science recruit from Andertun. We chose a low-rank wizard this time. He¡¯d been sentenced to 15 years. We promised him probation in 5. The effects appear to be quite there. He soon wanted back to his prison cell. Well, that is somewhat normal. But when we summoned him for a follow-up check with all the researchers that were present, a couple of hours of exposure did induce something of an anxiety attack. It was at any rate clear that he was very unwell at seeing them.¡±


    ¡°And there is no remedy. But how then¡± the old dwarf woman pressed, ¡°did the witch manage to not affect herself with the curse?¡±


    ¡°We figured out that as well¡± Metosi interjected. ¡°Or rather, the texts tell us the answer. Apparently salt, the kind you¡¯d have in your food, works as a neutralizing agent during consumption. It does not, however, work when the curse has already set. The witch would use a personal salt shaker, in which she pretended to add sugar to her tea. All the other guests would have a similar shaker for actual real sugar, and she¡¯d be the only one not to get affected.¡±


    ¡°Clever¡± Evenin remarked.


    ¡°Indeed¡± Metosi agreed.


    ¡°I fail to see how Ermos could take advantage of this one artifact though. I mean, powerful as it is¡± Evenin acknowledged, with some reservation, ¡°it¡¯s kind-of hard to imagine a scenario in which this thing would find application.¡±


    ¡°We were thinking sabotage¡± Nesum answered, scratching his forehead.


    ¡°But, if you had the opportunity to serve the enemy tea, wouldn¡¯t you have poisoned them with sickness or death instead? What use is a Face Fright?¡± She looked around into the faces of all the people present, giving them some face fright with her hard question. ¡°We can hardly send enough people from Ermos to have tea with the dungeon lords that this Face Fright would be useful for anything.¡±


    ¡°But¡± Sera raised her hand, a little awkward and hesitant, ¡°we could use it to sow discord among themselves.¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Nusam loudly approved. ¡°Imagine: dozens of dungeon lords and their minions in one place, and everyone served the same tea. We¡¯d break their unity with one kettle!¡± He smiled.


    ¡°Yeees¡± Evenin said, her tone careful. ¡°But would we not prefer to eliminate them all instead, in that scenario?¡±


    ¡°They can probably detect most of our poision and curses though.¡± Rurf abruptly remarked.


    ¡°Good point¡± Nusam pointed at Rurf, as if to identify the man with the good argument. ¡°It will be an up-until-now undetectable curse. And hard to recognize or identify also. They wouldn¡¯t even know they¡¯ve been cursed.¡± He spread his arms wide open.


    Evenin opened her mouth, looked to be thinking, then closed it. She nodded slowly in acknowledgement. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s one use.¡±


    They walked out of the room. That was interesting, she told herself, but a little disappointing. Not sure it¡¯ll look good in my report.


    They continued on down another corridor, round another bend, down (thought technically up) another broad stairway, and into one last, extra wide corridor. Before them, as they walked along it, rooms filled with shelves, desks, books, scrolls, and associated items made themselves visible. ¡°Our study rooms¡± Nusam gestured without looking at the rooms to his left. Many of them had doors that were at least partially open, and Evenin could in at least a couple of instances see a dwarf and a mecha-gnome sit inside, reading texts, not giving them a glance. ¡°And here¡± he said, turning to offer Evenin a brief smile, ¡°is our presentation room. For the main event.¡± He stopped at the door, then held out an arm pointing inside, letting her know to go first.


    The inside of this last room was like a big office. It had features similar to both a regular office, and a classroom. 6 large desks were present in various parts of the room, with each one backed by an individual large free-standing double-sided bookshelf. The desks were all messy with scrolls, notebooks, paper sheets and open books. The parts that more resembled a classroom were the 2 portable blackboards standing amongst the desks, as well as an open space in the back next to a large wall-sized blackboard. Lists upon lists of was written on it. And as Evenin was guided just a little deeper inside the room, she saw the blackboard wasn¡¯t just a single blackboard, but had layers upon layers of movable blackboards behind it.


    ¡°This¡± Nusam spread his arms about to indicate the whole place, ¡°is The Research Department for Relations Between The Gods and The Peoples.¡± In one corner of the room was a sky-elven man which Evenin had yet to meet. Behind a desk, the man sat with a scroll in both hands. He¡¯d been reading, but now his eyes was taking in the group. The new elf¡¯s eyes soon locked onto hers. His pupils were a yellow-brown, indicative of his sky-elven heritage, Evenin knew. He wore a sleeveless white robe, cut short just below the knees, with parts of his hairy chest exposed. Along his robe were various golden markings, and on his left shoulder, a tattoo depicting another elven face in crude ink. ¡°Our colleagues from the other departments call us The God-People Studies. You might¡¯ve already heard, or you may someday hear, that name being spoken instead.¡± The sky-elf shifted over to Snowman, and his eyes became wide for a moment, just staring at the huge beast. ¡°Oh, you¡¯ve not met the last member of this department.¡± Nusam gestured over at the sky-elf, who detached his stare from the bear. ¡°Meet Olefey, of Sunpeak.¡±


    Evenin nodded at the elf man. ¡°Glad to meet you, Olefey, of Sunpeak. I must admit, it¡¯s rare to see sky-elves, even here in Ermos. Even for me, who do a bit of travelling in my capacity.¡±


    ¡°I am glad to meet you too¡± he rolled up his scroll. He had a kind of faint smile, which Evenin could not detect if were genuine or faked.


    ¡°Olefey is an emigrant.¡± Nusam explained.


    ¡°That is right¡± Olefey took over, ¡°we sky-elves don¡¯t move down our mountain unless for good reason. Well¡± he raised the scroll as if it were a prop, ¡°the libraries of Sunpeak do not quite hold a collection like this. In some ways, of course, our collection is even more interesting than what I¡¯ve so far found here. But, my curiosity cannot be satiated by just the sum knowledge of one land.¡± At the end of his sentence, Evenin thought his smile finally became real.


    ¡°And neither can The Research Department. The knowledge you bring with you from Sunpeak, Olefey, has been invaluable to our endeavor.¡± The sky-elf smiled more, and responded with a head-bow.


    ¡°Now. Sher, do you wish to take over?¡±


    The vertically small but horizontally large human woman nearly ran to the front. ¡°Yes!¡± She exclaimed, and smacked her hands together once, before looking around at everyone, her tongue twisting around in her open mouth like as if to announce her excitement. Finally, having given everyone an eye, she locked eyes with Evenin. ¡°Envoy! Evenin! Please, step over here.¡± The witch guided Evenin to an open spot near the wall-large blackboards. Then ran back to fetch each of the smaller, portable blackboards, placing them just a little to the side before putting herself in the midst of it all, as if readying herself for a presentation. ¡°Okay. Evenin. Power levels. What do you know about them?¡±


    Evenin raised an eyebrow. ¡°I was personally taught by Tardom in his old age. Tardom, I assume you all know, is the author of On The Origins of The Celestial and The Magick. I¡¯m not an expert, but I believe that still counts as the most reliable source of knowledge on the topic?¡±


    ¡°GREAT!¡± Sher basically yelled. ¡°Saves me so much time and explanation.¡± She started pacing a bit back and forth. ¡°Now, okay. Hmm.¡± For a moment, she appeared to think. ¡°Well then.¡± She smacked her hands again. ¡°You may know, or not know this. But the gods, they have a magical web, a web that stretches across all the corners of Aclima, across all of our world. Not literally every single place, but the influence they wield have no clear limits. Now, Akalios¡¯ Method, it taps into this web. Do you by the way know anything about Akalios?¡±


    The envoy shook her head.


    ¡°Well, the story is not really important. So, okay. The important thing is, that Akalios did not create something out of nothing, his method is but a way for the peoples to grasp the secrets of the gods. And¡± she paused, taking in a deep breath, ¡°there are more methods.¡±


    ¡°More methods?¡± Evenin raised an eyebrow. ¡°Like Akalios? More ways to measure power levels?¡±


    ¡°Yes¨CNO! Not power levels. Of course there¡¯s just one way to measure power levels. But there is more to measure! MUCH more! Such a secret of the gods, you may barely believe it!¡± The room went silent. Everyone was looking at Evenin, most with neutral expressions, their eyes gauging her reaction.


    Evenin said nothing. She did move her eyes to briefly meet all of the other eyes aimed at here, but she revealed no emotion. ¡°Okay¡± she eventually let out, ¡°a secret of the gods. I am as intrigued as anyone to hear it.¡± She smiled, and the other people of the room smiled with her. The moment was tense, so she relaxed it.


    ¡°We divide people by their levels of power, and the characteristics that follow. It¡¯s efficient, it¡¯s objective, it¡¯s divine.¡± Sher spit the words like a minor fanatic claiming facts. ¡°The weak are separated from the strong, the wise from the unwise, the intelligent from the unintelligent, the healthy from the unhealthy. We even know how to differentiate the strong from the weak even in their mere moment of weakness. It¡¯s science! But what if I tell you, we can differentiate people not just by their present ¨C but by their future!¡±


    ¡°Future?¡± Evenin narrowed her eyebrows a bit. ¡°You mean, like their destiny?¡±


    ¡°ALMOST exactly like destiny! Mind you, not a single destiny. But a path. A future ¨C or a multitude of futures to choose from. We call this new division: classes.¡±


    ¡°Classes?¡± One of the old dwarf woman¡¯s eyebrows went up. ¡°That¡¯s not a very specific term I must say. What do you mean by a class?¡±


    ¡°It would nearly be better to ask: what isn¡¯t a class? Right now, it appears to us that almost any way of life is a class, when practiced as a class.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡± Evenin said, hiding her confusion for the moment.


    ¡°Mage, is a class. So is Pyromancer, so is Master of Decay. So is a Herder, so is a Butcher.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying a class, is like a job? A profession?¡±


    ¡°Yes and no¡± Olefey interjected from the back. Evenin turned to face the sky-elf. The man was standing up straight, and now the dwarf woman was reminded of the height of a sky-elf, because this man towered over his surroundings like no other person could. He must be just under 2 and a half meters tall! He quite literally dwarfed her, had he not been standing a few meters away. ¡°A profession is an economic pursuit, first and foremost. But a Class is a distinct Path of Life, it is a choice between one of many ¨C abstract ¨C futures.¡±


    ¡°How abstract?¡± Evenin pushed.


    ¡°It¡¯s not¡± Sher resumed, ¡°a matter of a concrete future with concrete events. It¡¯s a path of personal development, with milestones of achievements. We¡¯ve discovered that power levels are in fact not just levels of power ¨C they are levels of classes. When you walk a path, when you follow a destiny for yourself, you progress within the confines of the class of that path. Some classes, like Pyromancer, is in turn dependent on the class of Mage. So first one walks the Path of The Mage, then: you can walk the Path of The Pyromancer.¡±


    Evenin looked around herself, into the expectant eyes of her audience. ¡°So, you¡¯ve discovered how to divide up people¡¯s levels of power, and give those divisions labels. Am I correct that this is your finding?¡± She neither looked nor felt impressed.


    ¡°No!¡± Sher immediately replied. ¡°What we¡¯ve discovered is not just labels, Evenin of Redratall. Excuse me, I have given the wrong impression. This is not our work of analysis. These classes, envoy, contain gifts from the gods! Its not the divisions themselves that are interesting, envoy. But what they carry with them. We¡¯ve discovered that along with every class, there are benefits, worthy of me using the word gifts. Trust me, I do not use that word lightly. Spells, Evenin! New powers, new abilities.¡± Sher was getting wildly animated with her hands and arms. ¡°Progression in a class means more than just another pile of attribute points to fix. It also means spells and abilities not available to those without the class. Walking the path of a class involves direct access to god-given powers! Imagine summoning forth a dragon made from fire, because inside of you, the machinations of A GOD has connected with you. And that is a real example! One of our finest pyromancers at the university gained access to just such a unique spell, because the gods decided that his path was not just that of pyromancer in practice or name ¨C but a pyromancer in essence. A class, Evenin, is a connection between you and the gods, and its a connection which those taught in our newly established art of Class Training, may use to unlock an extra power, hidden away, deep inside of us all.¡± Sher smiled and then paused for just a moment, to let the envoy absorb all the information. ¡°Imagine what hidden powers await you, Evenin. As politician? As diplomat? As envoy? I can¡¯t imagine how many classes you must have. And for all those classes, the potential for new powers. Evenin of Redratall, you have ¨C hidden away deep inside of you ¨C Celestial Gifts.¡±

 Ch. 8: The Council of Ermos; The Envoy

    ¡°You do realize¡± Evenin said loudly across the theater of politics, ¡°that the resources you are asking for, with the timeframe for their repayment, it would take up a third of an average dwarf¡¯s lifetime, and more than the lifetime of almost any human?¡±


    ¡°We are aware¡± Tekla Steelpower answered in a loud voice, her arms brought high in the air, and currently seeking the crowd¡¯s attention. The little mecha-gnome was standing at the center stage of The Yellow Chamber, with levels of chairs raised around her at every side, and an audience of nearly 100 politicians watching her exchange with the legendary diplomat, the latter standing by her chair within the rows of seats. ¡°But it would be an investment worthy of generations, Evenin of Redratall!¡± The gnome paused long for effect, and looked around at the council members, meeting their judging gazes with her own for the most part neutral expression, but also with the hints of a smile. An act meant to signify to the assembly a commitment to friendly, but sound reasoning. ¡°Mother of The City¡± she looked back at Evenin, ¡°let¡¯s give birth to another great link between The Dwarven States, and The Lands of Ermos.¡± The gnome let go of her neutrality for a moment, and took on the performance of a passionate appeal. ¡°This venture, The Trans-Melrum Ironhorse Project, which The Iron City seeks ¨C do not think of it as a project for the mere benefit of us mecha-gnomes. It is a project FOR ALL the peoples, from the west¨C¡° Tekla gestured directionally with her hand, ¡°¨Cto the east! We merely seek to cement, and to finalize, the strong bonds between our peoples.¡± Another smaller pause, the gnome letting her passionate words linger in the ears of the audience, before continuing. ¡°My company, The Steaming Neigh Corporation, we have the skills, we have the experience in building, in managing. I take it you, upon your entry to the city, you even experienced our skill yourself, did you not? The Iron City Express?¡±


    That iron beast I saw along the highway? Evenin considered for the briefest of a second. ¡°Yes¡± she confirmed, ¡°I believe I saw that of which you speak.¡±


    ¡°On a busy day, this single set of tracks will transport upwards of a thousand gnomes in total, envoy. A thousand or more gnomes who do not have to walk for an hour to get to the gates of the city. Our ironhorse brings them there in less than 15 minutes. That means at least 1 and half hours saved in a day, going back and forth, for every gnome. If spatial allocation in this city wasn¡¯t an obstacle, envoy, our tracks would¡¯ve reached further still, and our passenger wagons built bigger too, to service not just the gnomes, but all the peoples.¡± The gnome gestured about to all the different kins assembled. ¡°The whole city interconnected. Anyone could¡¯ve reached anywhere in matters of minutes instead of hours. And now imagine: with The Trans-Melrum Ironhorse Project, a month of travel can be reduced to but a few days. No more need of wagons pulled over dirt roads full of rocks and wet soil, by draft animals that need feeding and rest. Instead, the ironhorse can travel day and night, carrying not just passengers, but also wood, coal, minerals, and large quantities of goods. Any shortage in your Young Mountains, envoy, can be made up for in a few days, with wagons pulled by The Steaming Neigh Corporation¡¯s fast and reliable ironhorse! A food crisis? We in Ermos could solve your food shortage faster than most of your neighbors! A lumber crisis? Ermos got you covered.¡± As the gnome woman concluded her speech with a firm nod, her expression turned into a big strong smile of reassuring confidence, and she interlocked her hands together in front of her chest.


    Among the audience members, Evenin decided to sit down as it became evident the gnome was finished. The envoy eyed the little one, giving the latter a neutral and reserved look of interest.


    ¡°Thank you¡± Lord Veron rose up from a chair seated at the front, ¡°representative Tekla Steelpower, of The Steaming Neigh Corporation, jointly invited here today by the other representatives from The Iron City.¡± The lord clapped politely, leading to most of the rest of the room clapping politely with him, the mecha-gnomes present showing noticeably more enthusiasm in said clapping.


    As the clapping died down, the lord ceased too, and brought out a scroll from a pocket at his chest, reading it while the rest of the room waited. ¡°Next item on the agenda¡± he announced, ¡°is a proposal brought forward by a majority of our representatives from The Little Mountain. The proposal concerns reform of our Substitute Healthcare Alternative for the Masses.¡± The lord moved his eyes over the part of the audience where the dwarves were gathered. ¡°Chief Stoneheart, please present your case.¡± The human sat down again. From among the dwarves, a man broad and muscled, with a thick long black beard and equal hair, stepped forward. The dwarf man wore a tunic embroidered with shiny metals all over to make him look wealthy. His style was clean, like an aristocrat, but the size of his shoulders spoke of arms that¡¯d been used, and used well, whether in sports, or in manual labor.


    He stepped forth to position himself at the center of the room on the stage, and looked around. He neither smiled nor gave off much of an expression at all, except perhaps looking a bit serious. ¡°For 33 years this organization, S.H.A.M.¡± the dwarf¡¯s voice spoke deep, ¡°has taken the tax money of the citizens of our city, and handed it out ¨C for free.¡± The dwarf paused briefly at the weight of the last words. ¡°The recipients have been do-gooders in want of a hobby, and these people have in turn given it out to people in want of a job. For 33 years, the morals of this city have fallen. The poor now expect healthcare, when they¡¯ve done NOTHING¨C¡± he shouted the word for emphasis, then paused half a second to let it bore into the audience ¡°¨Cto deserve it. Meanwhile, this city needs investments. Like the project my colleagues from The Iron City has presented to us¡± the man gestured to Tekla Steelpower, sitting with the crowd of other mecha-gnomes. ¡°THAT is a fine use of taxpayer money. Without such investments, our city cannot go forward. And we need to go forward! Our war depends on it! Towards a future where Ermos and The Young Mountains are connected. A future of increased trade, increased travel ¨C more for everyone!¡± More pause. He spread his arms out, and looked around, his face now obviously serious as he met the eyes of his audience. ¡°To get there, as the envoy has pointed out, we need finances. People, representatives, there¡¯s a question of money here, which cannot be ignored. Metals in huge quantities will have to be paid for. Numerous workers will have to be hired. But the city can afford it. However, if we are to afford it, we must economize. We must make room in the city¡¯s budget for the decades to come.¡± More pause, more serious looking around into faces. ¡°Thus¡± he continued, ¡°we propose a necessary reform of S.H.A.M. We propose turning S.H.A.M. into an enterprise. The poor must also pay for their healthcare. But that is not just for the city¡¯s benefit, it is also for their benefit. When they start to pay for their services and their medicines, S.H.A.M. will be able to afford to raise the quality of both.¡± With his arms spread out, and both palms open and pointed upwards, he raised his hands in a motion, as if figuratively pushing said quality up there and then. ¡°Because today, this organization barely provides anything for the sick. In all honesty, we should face the fact that S.H.A.M. is a waste. It is wasted money in every respect. However, should that organization start to seek profit, its services need no longer be so subpar. And while the quality goes up!¡± The dwarf figuratively pointed with one of his fingers up in the air. ¡°The city saves money, and earns profit. And that, good representatives, means money for investment. Instead of the S.H.A.M., the new organization will be named the Substitute Healthcare Alternative for the Masses, Enterprise! Everyone¡± now the dwarf came out with his hands, seeking their full attention with his deep voice, ¡°let us take S.H.A.M. to its next stage! Let¡¯s go, from a money-losing venture, to a profitable one!¡± The dwarf lowered his arms, and went silent. He was finished.


    Lord Veron stood up again. ¡°Thank you, Chief Stoneheart. Any questions or comments from the audience?¡±


    Evenin raised her arm.


    ¡°Yes, please envoy. Speak.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Lord Veron¡± she responded, then turned to face the deep-voiced, broad muscled dwarf. ¡°I have one question, a more general one, really. In the last 33 years, the few times I¡¯ve visited, I¡¯ve never heard of this S.H.A.M. organization. Which is quite surprising to me. Could somebody indulge me, please, a little more about what it is, and its function within the city?¡±


    Lord Veron nodded.


    ¡°Well...¡± Chief Stoneheart began. But was abruptly cut off as one of the green-elves stood up from among the crowd.


    ¡°I can explain¡± the elf man said, ¡°because I have friends who work with the organization.¡±


    Evenin nodded lightly for the elf to go on.


    ¡°Do you remember The Choker of Masses striking Ermos 34 years ago? That plague which spread all over the city, and killed nearly 60000 people during its most active year.¡±


    ¡°Yes¡± Evenin responded, putting on a face of recollection, ¡°I remember reading about that. I wasn¡¯t here around that time, though.¡±


    ¡°The Choker of Masses¡± the elf continued, ¡°was simply called The Choker by most, particularly when it was discussed here in The Yellow Chamber, among our lords, ladies¨C¡± the man let his eyes wander for a second over the crowd, as if accusing them of something, ¡°¨C clan leaders, guild leaders, merchant representatives.¡± His eyes stopped wandering, and he looked at Evenin. ¡°When the full scale of its impact started to become clear and visible in the streets, we had the university work hard, to discover a way to beat it. Only by the numerous mages and scholars brought together to discover a way of banishing it from the city, did we eventually understand that it was a magically enhanced natural disease, released upon us by the dungeon lord of Ergadjum. The mages, I don¡¯t know their magical arts, but they discovered some sort of magic and technique for countering the plague, and they started protecting themselves, their people, and the people inside the city walls ¨C except for The Raven¡¯s Slum. Later they began selling their services to the dwarves and the mecha-gnomes. My people, who¡¯d been isolating in The City Forest, paid for a few of our kind to receive preventative measures, so we could interact with the rest of the city. But The Raven¡¯s Slum, and most people in Old Ermos Town, or Southwall, these lacked in any means of surviving the plague. They had neither the connections, the money, nor the skills to acquire either prevention or cure. And not a way of subsistence which afforded isolation either, like we elves could. We didn¡¯t starve in isolation, but the humans would. Beyond the wall, the same situation held for the peoples of Rabbit¡¯s Home, Cowtown and Tato Streets. Before long, there were minor riots happening. University healers were kidnapped, organized looters raided wealthy merchants in sometimes bloody fights with hired guards. I believe you¡¯ve heard of this too? And about The Day of War?¡±


    ¡°The Day of Waaar...¡± Evenin took a second to try and remember, but her mind only conjured a vague memory. ¡°I recall something. But please, do remind me.¡±


    The elf nodded. ¡°The Day of War was the largest riot of them all. Actually, it was more like a general uprising. Several smaller simultaneous riots lead into one great riot that spread all over the city, but it was particularly severe in the inner city. Here, smaller groups from Southwall, and Old Ermos Town, organized with a large amount of people from The Raven¡¯s Slum. We call it The Day of War because in practice¡± he looked down at the dwarf at the center of the room while preparing to weigh his words, ¡°the city was in a state of civil war.¡± He looked up at Evenin again. ¡°Even though it only lasted for a day and a half, it was brutal. Ermos had to assemble its armies to push the rebels back, and over 1000 people died in the street fighting. Now, that is originally why we made S.H.A.M., Mother of The City, it was created as a direct response to the unrest brought about by our lack of response to the plague. We promised to make healing magic and techniques publicly available. Now, today, S.H.A.M. has volunteers from all over the city. Even from the students of the valuable healing arts at the university. It¡¯s an organization we operate in 3 different locations, spread about the metropolis. At every location, we provide a collection of buildings belonging to the city. This includes facilities and furniture inside the buildings.¡± He stopped to clear his throat. ¡°One such location lies to the south in The Raven¡¯s Slum. Another, driven mostly by us green-elves of The Great Trees, lie between The City Forest and the southern highway, in The Green Streets. Lastly, there¡¯s a collection of buildings which was built only 11 years ago, and are located to the south-west, near that latest appendage to our city: The Wolf¡¯s Slum. Besides the facilities and furniture of these buildings, including operating rooms, sick beds and lecture halls, which are used for public health awareness, we also provide S.H.A.M. and their volunteers with some regular basic healthcare supplies too. Now, this last item I mention, this quite small but crucial expense, is mainly what Chief Stoneheart is referring to, when he talks about the city spending money. Everything else is volunteers using tools and furniture already paid for, and the salaries of a single human administrator and her secretary, tasked with leading the organization.¡± The elf looked around, before landing his eyes at Lord Veron. ¡°That concludes my explanation.¡± The elf man sat down.


    Lord Veron stood up. ¡°Were there any more questions from the audience?¡± The lord looked around. He fixed on Evenin for a second, but she just nodded back for him to continue. The lord looked around again, ¡°what about any comments? Before we go towards a vote on the reform? The issue of The Trans-Melrum Ironhorse will of course have to be debated back in The Young Mountains, before we can table it for a vote here.¡±


    A few commenters stood up over time from their seats. Each one rising as the commenter before them concluded their speech. Evenin noted during this period that there was great enthusiasm for The Trans-Melrum Ironhorse project. But for the reform itself, they only discuss it as a sidenote. There¡¯s hardly any interest here in the reform itself, or the S.H.A.M. organization... Interesting to know. The merchant representatives were the most enthusiastic. They hailed Chief Stoneheart and The Steaming Neigh Corporation alike as ¡°visionary heroes of Ermos!¡± A human woman reiterated some of the points that¡¯d been mentioned by the representative from The Great Trees, but fell short in rhetorical skills, and was mostly ignored. Another dwarf, breaking with the united image of The Little Mountain representatives, warned of the possibility of a return to social unrest if ¡°the poor cannot get the healthcare they require.¡± However, the dwarf soon faced a trio of commenters after him, each taking their opportunity to speak of the dwarven representative as, in the first instance: ¡°a stiffler of advancement¡±, then in the second, ¡°a man of exaggeration¡±, and lastly, as ¡°someone who does not understand that we have learned our lesson, the next time the dungeon lords strike, we will know, and we will be ready!¡± In the end, this debate is turning into little else than general praise for that ironhorse project. Very telling one must think, Evenin noted.


    When the votes eventually came, a strong majority was counted. ¡°1 absent, 17 absteining¡± Lord Veron announced, ¡°21 against, and 52 in favor. The Council of Ermos has voted in favor of reforming our S.H.A.M. organization!¡± The final announcement was met with an excited and enthusiastic roar of applause, with smiles erupting almost all around the room. However, Evenin looked around to note just who wasn¡¯t joining in the cheers. Only 2 green-elves politely clapping without smiles. No wild-gnomes. She looked around further. About 10 humans and 1 urban elf aren¡¯t joining. That dwarf from before isn¡¯t, and yes, another dwarf beside him. That other abstained earlier, didn¡¯t she? Evenin rested her gaze upon the other dwarf woman, who must¡¯ve been at least 50 years younger than herself, making her only about 100 years old, if Evenin guessed right. Which means she¡¯s only about as old as Ermos City. She would¡¯ve been just a little girl when the dwarves of The Three Brothers Mountains started to seek refuge in The Little Mountain.


    As the cheering started to reside, Lord Veron reached out to speak again: ¡°I now announce the start of our lunch break. The Council of Ermos will reconvene in 90 minutes to discuss the last 2 items on the agenda for today, which will cover recent security issues.¡± As soon as the lord had said the word ¡°lunch¡±, dozens of dwarves and humans, in particular, were already starting to move out of their seats. And by the end of the lord¡¯s announcement, there was already a general murmur of hungry politicians filing out of The Yellow Chambers.


    Evenin herself ate lunch with the lord at an isolated balcony on The Yellow Chambers building. A trio of mecha-gnomes had managed to get themselves invited to her dining. So of course she brought Snowman with her, to keep them well-mannered. While they ate some of the finest steak and potatoes Evenin had ever had, the huge Snowman took up about half of the balcony at their opposite end, where he enjoyed a large bucket of imported reindeer meat.


    ¡°Would you not agree¡± one of the mecha-gnomes offered about half-way into their lunch break, ¡°that the display you just witnessed, was a strong message of support in Ermos for our project.¡±


    Evenin chewed on a fried potato, thinking over the gnome¡¯s statement. Swallowing, she brought a napkin to her face. ¡°I think it was a moderately strong message. It was not quite unanimous, as you know, and it was not quite a direct show of support for your project, even though it certainly comes close to being one. It will, at least, be in my report.¡± She smiled diplomatically at the gnome. The gnome managed to refrain from frowning, and instead continued on with a fake smile until the meals¡¯ end.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Evenin and the others returned to The Yellow Chambers, where Lord Veron announced the beginning of their second, and last, session of the day. ¡°Our next item on the agenda for today has actually been requested by our esteemed envoy.¡± The man gestured at Evenin. ¡°She has asked for a statement on the security situation in Ermos, in light of the recent events that occured near The Iron City. This was the incident at the gnomish underground complex, known as Gnomiture, an establishment owned and operated by the witch Shoss. The one who is referred to by the commoners of The Iron City as Miss Boss. Now, given the history of Shoss as a former dungeon lord, and given the extent of the subsequent battle there, which could be felt all the way into Southwall, as I¡¯m sure many of you here witnessed, the envoy has asked for this statement to be given and commented on here in The Yellow Chambers. And, the representatives gathered here from The Iron City have been briefed of this request, so¡± the lord turned to the gnomes, ¡°have you brought someone to give a statement?¡±


    A mecha-gnome stood up. ¡°Yes we have, Lord Veron.¡±


    The mecha-gnome presented a man, slightly tall for a mecha-gnome, with that standard brown short-cut hair, and a dark grey cape. His shirt was white, and his fingers carried 2 expensive rings, probably enchanted, Evenin guessed. The gnome had a very commanding thick moustache to his face, and a short silver sabre at his belt, attached to some white-blueish thick linen pants.


    ¡°General Toyar Smokescreen¡± one of The Iron City representatives announced, ¡°I believe the Mother of The City is acquainted with him.¡± The general walked onto the stage. ¡°For those who are not, this is the highest commanding officer of our armed forces, The Mecha-Force.¡± The gnome who¡¯d spoken up sat back down in his seat.


    ¡°You may deliver your statement¡± Lord Veron told the general.


    Giving a firm nod back, the man in The Yellow Chamber¡¯s midst briefly looked around with his eyes, before locking on to Evenin. ¡°Our intelligence informs us that a mage, presumably a saboteur sent from the dungeon lords, managed to infiltrate the venue 7 days ago. The mage, a human male, is known and has been observed, by witnesses, to have planted magic in the enchanted installations there, who then started to malfunction, and soon escalated with a widespread chaos that cost the business greatly. The installations later attacked the gnomes operating the complex, using iron golems, and visiting customers were forced out. Following this attack, we came into contact with Shoss, and she asked us intervene in the events at Gnomiture. Unfortunately, our first attempt at taking back control of the venue, concluded with an embarassing defeat.¡± The gnome retained a steel mask at Evenin as he admitted this fact. ¡°Shoss then decided to act on her own, and, as she has explained in an interview with me: detonated a powerful spell inside her underground complex, which cleared the way for us to then retake the premises, and restore order.¡±


    Evenin raised her hand soon after the sentence finished. Lord Veron noticed, and he stood up. He gestured a hand at her. ¡°Please, Evenin, you have a question?¡±


    She rose too, and looked at the lord. ¡°More like an inquiring reply, Lord Veron.¡± She shifted her eyes to the general. ¡°Because as far as I can tell, you did not manage to restore order permanently, from that point. Could you elaborate on the events that followed?¡±


    The general took a visible deep breath, the faint trace of a sigh escaping before his reply. ¡°Yes, of course envoy.¡± He paused for several seconds, eyes lost in nothingness as if trying to figure out how to construct his reply. The old dwarf woman sat down, and wondered at the senior officer. What a drastic change of appearance general, to your prior attitude of military discipline and efficiency. She eyed the man, as he found his words. ¡°The intelligence we¡¯ve gathered from the events that followed are mostly from interviews with our own gnome soldiers, who were traumatized by magic. A few curious observations have also been gathered from around the city, but none that are much of a lead, unfortunately.¡± He paused again, and squeezed his lips together inwardly, as if deeply preferring he could¡¯ve stayed silent, yet knowing he had to continue. ¡°There¡± he continued, speaking carefully, ¡°was an attack on our night guards 2 days ago. Accounts paint a picture of a powerful mage. We¡¯ve speculated that it is the same mage, returned, but so far are unable to verify. This second mage has been described as covered in black, including black clothes, black skin and a black beard, and he¡¯s a shapeshifter, capable of turning into the semblance of a bear. Actually, 2 kinds of bears if the stories hold. All our witnesses except 1 were under a spell when they observed the transformation, and the 1 not under a spell, soon fell under one. We must therefore consider the possibility that their minds were tampered with.¡± He swallowed his own spit briefly. ¡°The mage managed to disable several platoons, including one of our finer mages, and he¡¯s known to have left the building stealing several installations. That is what happened after, envoy.¡±


    The Yellow Chambers grew quiet for a bit. Then Evenin raised her hand again. Lord Veron gestured for her to speak, and she stood up again.


    ¡°I¡¯m curious, in what way did the magic tamper with your soldiers minds, general?¡± She sat down.


    The general could not mask his sigh now, but looked into the ground with some visible exasperation. ¡°The nature of the magic was such that it changed the personality of my soldiers.¡± And the general stopped there.


    When several seconds passed by without any more words from the general, only his firm stare pointed directly at Evenin, she decided to press the matter: ¡°Could you elaborate?¡±


    Another sigh escaped. ¡°My soldiers report the mage yelling the words gay aura, before they started to feel an inclination towards un-gnomely behaviours, unbefitting of any member of The Iron City.¡± The general quieted again.


    Lord Veron looked over at Evenin. ¡°Do you wish for him to elaborate further, envoy?¡±


    ¡°Please.¡± Evenin didn¡¯t bother standing this time.


    The general closed his eyes for a second as if personally embarrassed, and apparently trying hard to weather his circumstances with stoicism. ¡°The mage¡¯s magic caused our gnome soldiers to undress, shame their capes with criticism, and, apparently, though it¡¯s sort-of difficult to imagine, also launch a multi-platoon-wide music jam with improvised instruments.¡±


    The lord looked at Evenin.


    ¡°Please go on.¡± Evenin responded, not needing to be asked directly. ¡°What kind of improvised instruments?¡±


    ¡°They assembled pieces of instrument from their weapons, the building, the installations, and uuhhh...¡± he paused for a moment, sighed and failed to fully contain a roll of his eyes, ¡°... their own body parts.¡±


    The lord eyed Evenin again, who managed to completely suppress an impulse to smile. She shook her head declining, her curiosity as a diplomat having been satisfied. There was a weak murmur among the audience, particularly among the mecha-gnomes, some of whom looked shocked, sitting there with gaping mouths and wide eyes. They must not have heard the story before, Evenin surmised, thanking her strength of will that she¡¯d not smiled at the mental imagery. Can¡¯t have another outburst like at Flipped, that was a moment too embarassing for my position.


    Lord Veron rose. ¡°Does that conclude all of your statement, General Smokescreen?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± The little man replied, loud and immediate, as if speaking to a higher officer.


    ¡°Then you can go.¡± The general left, relief and shame, both visible on his face, as he walked back to his seat among the mecha-gnome representatives. ¡°We are now open to questions and comments regarding this statement. Anyone, please raise your hand.¡±


    A mecha-gnome, a dwarf, and a human soon raised theirs in succession. Of these, the first person to take the stage only spoke about how ¡°horrible¡± and how ¡°awful¡± the attack of the mage had been. Of course a mecha-gnome would say that. Give me the next person. Evenin watched the gnome with the dead expression of someone merely in the same chamber as him, her mind utterly bored. The next person was the dwarf. He offered a statement of support to his ¡°friends in The Iron City.¡± And, continuing, proclaimed that: ¡°if the gnomes wish support in investigating or posting guard, just ask, and your friends in The Little Mountain will come to aid. And besides friendship, we should all recognize that this sabotage, is an attack on us all. A strike against one of the factions of Ermos, is a strike against all! Who will be next? Let¡¯s hope noone!¡± Lastly, the human, a woman this time, took to the stage. ¡°But why was Gnomiture attacked?¡± She opened with confused and almost agitated look. ¡°Is this a revenge attack on Shoss for betraying the other dungeon lords? And if so, should we consider it possible that Shoss has become a liability for the alliance? How could the dungeon lords penetrate so deeply into our city, after all. That is quite the serious situation. Could it even be that she is an accomplice? That this was a staged crime?¡±


    At that point a murmur began in the crowd, and one gnome woman stood up to reply, after getting a nod to go ahead from Lord Veron. ¡°Shoss has proven herself to the mecha-gnomes from since before The Iron City was established. She¡¯s been a loyal ally to her mecha-gnome kind ever since The Fall of The Great System. But not only that, you should all recall that her betrayal of the dungeon lords likely saved our kind from near-total genocide. Without her bravery at the last moment, there would not have been any Iron City to speak of. Only our kin, scattered and destitute. With such a debt to our survival, there can be no doubting her further loyalty.¡±


    The defence of Shoss had a lasting effect on the debate, which then progressed away from Shoss, and over to whether anything could be done to mitigate infiltrations in the city.


    ¡°We should set up a border check.¡± A minor human lord told the crowd. ¡°Any who wishes to pass into the city via the southern or nothern highways must be checked. Any who wishes to pass further into the city, within the city walls, must be checked again. The racial quarters should establish their own border checks: one for The City Forest, one for The Iron City, and one for The Little Mountain.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m against border checks!¡± A female dwarf announced upon it being her turn to speak. Evenin recognized her as the leader of The Witcavern Clan. Richest and most thrifty of the dwarves in the west. No wonder you¡¯d object. ¡°The roads will be clogged.¡± The clan leader explained, annoyance clear on her face. ¡°We can barely handle the traffic on busy days as it is. Border checks will create queues stretching kilometers, and would paralyze the industry and trade. We¡¯d hurt ourselves more than the dungeon lords could hurt us.¡±


    ¡°The people would hate it!¡± Another dwarf added just after, when it became his turn. Evenin knew this dwarf also. Representative of The Ermos Mining Union. You don¡¯t want your supply routes to The Little Mountain checked, I assume. ¡°They¡¯d riot in the streets if we made them spend hours in the day getting in and out. Like the clan leader says, it would be a mess.¡±


    After a few rounds of back and forth between those for and those against border checks, it became evident that resistence to the subject was shared widely among most people, only some humans and urban elves really supported the idea. The debate had more less ended with no satisfactory answers when Evenin decided to ask for the word. She stood up as a slightly tired Lord Veron gestured for her to go. ¡°The Young Mountains have entrusted me¡± her eyes panned the individuals of the crowd, ¡°to gather information on the state of security in Ermos.¡± At this, all eyes started paying attention to her, even though some were a little tired like Lord Veron. ¡°For the last few days, I have been doing that, among other things. Only 2 days ago, I consulted a great many people on the security situation here. It¡¯s been 9 years since the last major dungeon lord incidence within the city. But at that time, it was the conclusion of years of deep penetration attacks into this land, that only ended when The Mecha-Gnomes¡¯ Revenge, destroyed The Booran Dungeon, with their twice-annual Great Zerg. It was only chance, though, that they later discovered, that it was this dungeon which had been spearheading the majority of attacks. Should Ermos rely on such luck in the future?¡± Evenin looked about her audience following the mostly rhetorical question. ¡°Speaking of this guild, I have also gathered information that The Mecha-Gnomes¡¯ Revenge was infiltrated recently, and that one of their employees suffered an unknown mind-control spell. As representative of the interests of the dwarven states, of our enormous investments into your city and region, I ask that you will take measures to increase internal security, that such a turbulent period which I¡¯ve mentioned does not occur again. That the current situation ends here and now, as soon as possible, without further incidents. That is all I have to say.¡± As Evenin sat down, she felt the weight of nearly 100 pairs of eyes on her. Some of them, at least those with pronounced interests, variably feared her. Feared the kinds of impressions they would leave her with, to go and be reported to their country¡¯s most important benefactor. Others were not so worried, but they at least realized there was seriousness in her words, even if her speech had been passionless.


    ¡°Thank you¡± Lord Veron said dryly, standing up. ¡°Any more questions, comments?¡± Nobody responded. ¡°Very well. Last item on the agenda for today: the ongoing siege of Wintershield Stronghold, which began 7 days ago, and has been challenging the defenders there ever since, if rumors are to be believed. As The Wintershield Stronghold is very much a dependency of The Little Mountain, the dwarves have been asked to provide a statement on the state of the siege. Have you¡± the lord directed himself towards the dwarven representatives, ¡°found someone to speak on the issue?¡±


    Chief Stoneheart rose from his seat. ¡°We have.¡± The broad-shouldered man waved forward another female dwarf. As the woman stepped forward, Evenin took note of her outfit. She wore a sparse set of steel armor over wool and leather. In her hands was a slim, but sharp-looking battleaxe. ¡°Iti Stoneheart¡° the chief announced, ¡°recently returned from the front during a relief operation.¡± As the warrior stepped onto the stage and positioned herself in the middle, Evenin could see a deeply tired expression on her face. Her right forearm had a bandaged wound also, with red moisture showing through the healing cloth. Standing there, the dwarf woman leaned on her battleaxe with both hands, almost as if it was a cane.


    ¡°Your statement¡± Lord Veron spoke from his standing position at his seat. ¡°Please, tell us what¡¯s happening there.¡± The human sat down, and everyone waited for the dwarf woman to speak. That¡¯s a young dwarf, Evenin thought as the seconds passed, can¡¯t be older than 40 at most. Even with her tiredness aging her looks, this is evidently not a fully mature warrior.


    The young dwarf woman in question took her time, looking into the crowd of seated with her tired eyes, building suspense with her slow response. ¡°We¡¯re holding¡± she spoke eventually, then went silent for another 3 seconds. ¡°It¡¯s tough. Wintershield has been getting fewer volunteers lately. Or maybe it¡¯s just that we¡¯ve not been getting as many as we need. I¡¯m not sure which it is, but it feels like we¡¯re fewer than we should be. The day before I was relieved, 2 days ago, I killed, injured, way over 40 goblins, with my own weapon, holding a tower, with just 2 other dwarves to help me. Or it would¡¯ve been 3, but the 3rd died early in the morning when they attacked, so he wasn¡¯t much help that day.¡± She took a pause to look into nowhere, and swallowed her own spit. An action that, by the sound it made and the look of her doing it, made her mouth appear dry. She¡¯s dehydrated? Evenin thought, but the dwarf continued. ¡°Before yesterday, when I was relieved, I¡¯d been fighting for 6 days straight. They attack around the clock. It¡¯s not always frontal assaults. They come with rocks hurled from the sky, arrows, hundreds of arrows at a time, bolts, slingshots, magic, oh magic is the worst. They burn us alive in our armor if we don¡¯t have any protection. Luckily most of us do, because most of us are sponsored. 3 times they¡¯ve sent storms our way, with lightning strikes, blizzards of icy snow.¡± She paused for a couple of seconds, her eyes reminiscent. ¡°When they get close, there¡¯s also javelins. But when they get close, when the frontal assaults happen, they are many. They attack quickly, while most of us sleep. Somehow they know when most of us sleep. Then they scale the walls, run into the barricades, try to get inside the towers. It all happens very quickly.¡± She brought a hand to her nose and sniffed. She wasn¡¯t crying, be she did look a little sick, as if bearing the toll of all that she¡¯d been through. Her face was one of relived trauma. Eyes stared intensely into nowhere, while she continued her account. ¡°138 warriors were present when I left. Including the 50 dwarves stationed permanently, 69 sponsored dwarves, and 4 parties of 19 guild warriors. Since the siege started, we¡¯ve lost over 40 dwarves. Actually, I don¡¯t remember exactly. But it was over 40, I¡¯m sure. At this rate, anyways, we¡¯re losing warriors faster than we can replenish them. We¡¯ve only received some 30 warriors to our numbers since the siege began, and that includes those who relieved me and 5 of my fellow warriors, to come back.¡± Another pause, as she looked around for a bit, appearing unsure, or too tired to know, about what to say next. The pause lasted long enough that Lord Veron was about to stand up to intervene, when suddenly she continued. ¡°Give us a handful of descent mages, and at least 100 seasoned warriors to join the defense, and I believe we can break the siege, and almost no more people will die at Wintershield. All I can say, is that: what¡¯s happening now, won¡¯t last¡± she shook her head with the words. ¡°We won¡¯t last, if the dungeon lords have more to throw at us. And I know they do. We¡¯ve spotted forces they¡¯ve yet to commit. Dozens of human dungeon knights, much tougher than goblins, and half a dozen great fire elementals. They¡¯re also building 4 more trebuchets after we destroyed 2 of them a couple of days ago. Aid us, everyone, we need it, before Wintershield, the last dwarven stronghold in The Three Brothers Mountains, is ground down to dust.¡± Another longer silence.


    Eventually, Lord Veron realized it was not just a break between words this time, and, carefully, he started to stand up. ¡°Thank you, Iti, of the Stoneheart clan. An insightful report. Now: questions and comments from the present representatives?¡± He looked about the chamber.


    Evenin raised her hand.


    ¡°Please, envoy.¡± The lord gestured towards her, and sat down.


    ¡°An insightful report indeed, Iti.¡± Evenin nodded. ¡°May I ask, how many of the fallen warriors have been those permanently stationed?¡±


    The warrior looked to be thinking, ¡°eeeh¡± she responded quietly. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡± she produced, an answer both calm and honest.


    ¡°Can you guess?¡± Evenin pressed.


    ¡°Ehm...¡± The dwarf warrior thought with her face some more. ¡°More than half, I think. Likely a bit more than half. Maybe 25, or more¡±


    Evenin nodded. ¡°So it looks like the permanent station of warriors at Wintershield is being depleted. Which means that if the sponsored presence was to drop, as they can, the stronghold would soon be understaffed. Do I understand the situation correct?¡±


    ¡°Yeeeaaah¡± the warrior said in half-thought, half-answer. ¡°Well, they¡¯ll have to find recruits willing to commit their lives to living there, at the stronghold, and defend it, for the rest of their lives. Or until they retire. Not many dwarves want to leave the comfort of the city to resettle in The Three Brothers Mountains as it is. It¡¯s just death there, constantly. And when it¡¯s not, it¡¯s very boring, compared to the city. I¡¯ve been there for a year now, and while I cherish fulfilling my duty to my homeland ¨C I really do, I¡¯m proud of it ¨C it is not something I could live with forever. It¡¯s nothing to do there but to fight and survive. It¡¯s amazing that some dwarves can even live like that. But those folk are rare.¡±


    Evenin stared at the warrior as the latter got silent. Everyone stared really. Lord Veron shifted his eyes back and forth between Evenin and the warrior. ¡°So¡± Evenin eventually broke the silence, ¡°The Wintershield Stronghold is dying out. I see. I understand.¡± She sat down.


    Lord Veron stood up, just as the beginnings of a murmur began. ¡°Any more questions? Comments?¡±


    And then followed a discussion, which soon became like a war of words.

 Ch. 9: Witch of The City; The Envoy

    ¡°They will die. You know that.¡± It was statement, not a question. A woman, the most powerful witch known this part of the world in fact, slammed lazily her right black shoe onto The Footstool of Gardamosh. ¡°Evenin, my minister girl¡± the words were delivered with an old woman¡¯s voice, a very old woman¡¯s voice, ¡°you¡¯ve always known that it was going to happen. Wintershield Stronghold was a stupid idea, it¡¯s still a stupid idea, and tomorrow... surprise! It will be a stupid idea. The dwarves of this city just can¡¯t realize it. They¡¯re too stubborn. Too proud. Wintershield is an outpost among rocks. Burried underneath snow 11 out of 13 months of the year. It has no material value to anyone. I¡¯m sure those dungeon lords have only let it continue to exist so far, because they too realize: it has zero strategic value; it¡¯s completely pointless.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± The dwarven envoy to Ermos sighed, her eyes wandering over to look at Irridiklara¡¯s black rubber-and-cotton shoe. The two of them were sitting in Irrid¡¯s spacious office at Flipped. Behind Evenin, Snowman lay on the room¡¯s richly decorated and soft carpet, quietly snoozing under the slightly orange magical light of a chandelier above. ¡°Someone ought to tell them. And it¡¯s not my responsibility. I¡¯m an envoy of foreign states...¡± Her face was lightly exasperation. ¡°They agreed to put together another batch of reinforcements.¡±


    Irrid shook her head, then slammed the left black shoe also onto the mythical Footstool, making a pair of resting feet. ¡°There¡¯s a reason I don¡¯t bother with politics.¡±


    ¡°Because you can¡¯t handle people?¡± Evenin produced a very small smile as she met the wrinkled eyes of the unnaturally old human.


    ¡°No¡± Irrid responded, her face humorless. Then she steered her eyes away, as if wanting to escape Evenin¡¯s accusative eyes. ¡°It¡¯s because in politics, in houses of people too full of themselves, they always end up making stupid decisions like this. And I can¡¯t stand it!¡± She almost sneered the last words.


    The witch was looking at the stool with its 4 wooden humanlike feet. Evenin moved her own eyes back to look at it too. ¡°Don¡¯t the faculty mages object to you using a mythical artifact for your feet?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re currently not in need of it¡± Irrid responded, without veering her gaze. ¡°Shame to let it go to waste. And my feet are in dire need. Also, after all: what are artifacts for, if not to be used?¡±


    ¡°Do you use it to travel?¡± Evenin prodded.


    ¡°Only when conversations are boring.¡±


    Am I boring? Evenin suddenly wondered, suspicious. She looked at Irrid¡¯s face, still resting its gaze on the stool. ¡°You¡¯re not travelling somewhere right now, are you? I thought people would have to be half-way asleep to use it. But knowing your abilities and knowledge, you¡¯d probably find a way to make that restriction a mere suggestion.¡±


    Irrid closed her eyes, and for a few seconds, Evenin was unsure if the silence was meant to confirm her suspicions. ¡°The white bear¡± the witch eventually spoke, pulling the envoy out of her mind¡¯s speculations, ¡°where did you get it?¡±


    ¡°Snowman?¡± Evenin turned around to look at the 600kg pile of deadly fur, so at peace there on the carpet, he could¡¯ve been a permanent art installation. ¡°It was a gift. A merchant of The Nove Republic, one of our northern-most states, if you don¡¯t know it. The merchant gave me Snowman while he was still just a little bear cub.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s no cub anymore¡± Irridiklara stated, looking Snowman over by moving her left eye only.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had him for 6 years¡± Evenin said, smiling as she looked over at her furry friend.


    ¡°Hmpf¡± Irrid blurted. ¡°So you did eventually get yourself a man. Just not the type I expected.¡±


    Evenin looked back and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Are you, Irridklara The Witch, interested in my love life?¡±


    ¡°Not at all. Just... observing.¡± The witch spoke the last word slowly. ¡°I¡¯ve known you for a long time, now, Evenin of Redratall. When we first met, I was already an old woman. You were a young woman. Quite young indeed, for a dwarf. Now, you are just starting to become an old dwarven woman, and me, I¡¯m an even older human woman. To have known you for most of your life, for a hundred years... what can I say. It¡¯s surprising you never became a mother. I felt like you had the personality for it. You are awfully caring for a politician.¡±


    ¡°But I did become a mother!¡± Evenin smiled back. ¡°I¡¯m the Mother of The City, haven¡¯t you heard?¡±


    Evenin thought she could barely see a smile on the old witch¡¯s face, or at least a slight residing of her constant sour look. Evenin pressed the matter, ¡°and so are you, kind-of, aren¡¯t you? 2nd Mother of The City?¡±


    Irridiklara turned her full gaze towards Evenin and stared with inquiring intensity. ¡°What are you on about? What do I have to do with the making of this city?¡±


    ¡°You made this university¡± Evenin shrugged, ¡°it¡¯s basically the main attraction of the city. Your building is the main reason people flocked to live here.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t build it¡± Irrid retorted, looking sour as always.


    ¡°But if anyone owns it, it¡¯s basically you¡± Evenin insisted. ¡°And you named it.¡±


    ¡°Did not!¡±


    ¡°You did. When you took my words literally. When I said you could turn the whole thing upside down as long as you taught mages, and protected the city from the worst of the worst. Well, are we sitting upside down, or are we not?¡± Evenin¡¯s smile was broad now.


    At least one of Irridiklara¡¯s cheeks managed to stretch a muscle. Just enough to let go of that sour expression of yours, Evenin detected. For a few seconds neither of them said anything. Evenin let her gaze wander back to the Footstool while Irridiklara tried to hide a mental dive into nostalgia.


    ¡°Your left sock¡± Evenin suddenly blurted, ¡°it¡¯s different from your right sock?¡± Evenin blinked. No, I¡¯m not seeing wrong. She has one ankle-long, flashy red sock on her left foot, and one black sock on her right, reaching up near her kneecap.


    ¡°Yes, it is¡± the witch admitted, a strange look on her face, almost as if she¡¯d expected someone to notice.


    ¡°It seems an odd question to ask¡± Evenin said, her tone a little careful, ¡°but may I ask: why the fashion choice? You¡¯ve never been one for colors.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t choose it for the look.¡± The older responded matter-of-factly. ¡°I chose it for its properties.¡±


    ¡°Properties?¡± An eyebrow went up.


    ¡°That, minister girl¡± she pointed with her face at the footwear, ¡°is The Left Sock of Infinite Dryness.¡±


    ¡°Is that an artifact?¡±


    ¡°A celestial artifact. Don¡¯t tell the other mages I have it. The whole building went up in an uproar when I snatched it, secretly, from the washerman. They now think he stole it and sold it. They¡¯d harass my ears for weeks if they ever find out it was me.¡±


    Evenin shook her head in disbelief. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you let the mages study the artifacts?¡±


    ¡°They still got The Right Sock of Infinite Dryness¡± the witched retorted, ¡°for now... Besides, it¡¯s much better with me. You know this thing cannot be destroyed. It¡¯s practically indestructible for anyone but a god. Worse, its name is literal. Anyone drop this sock into a lake, and the lake¡¯ll be dry in a few weeks. Now, anyone drop it in an ocean? Expect climate change. This sock is dangerous alone. The 2 of them together? That¡¯s a weapon of mass humidification. No, they¡¯re best here with me. Also, their level of comfort is literally diiiviiine.¡± The old human gave Evenin an expression of comfort that temporarily erased every sour wrinkle on the oldie¡¯s face.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    The dwarf stared over at the sock, and then at Irrid¡¯s eyes-closed expression of serenity. She let a silence go on for about half a minute, then changed the topic. ¡°What level are you now?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± The witch opened exactly one eye fully, the other eye struggling to stay shut, clearly wanting to dose off.


    ¡°If the artifact is so safe with you, it would be reassuring to know your new level, would it not? You must¡¯ve leveled up some since your approximate level was last leaked to me, 50 years ago.¡±


    ¡°Not telling¡± Irrid closed both her eyes fully.


    ¡°But I think it would only be fair to know the power by which the magical treasures of this land is guarded. And don¡¯t you feel just a little, tiny bit urge to share your achievements with someone? With an old friend? Must be lonely to be the only one to know your true power. Irrid, would it not be nice to have peers, someone to talk to about your accomplishments?¡±


    Irrid¡¯s one eye opened again, but for at least a couple seconds, she just sat there, silent, staring with her one eye. ¡°You don¡¯t ask a woman her level!¡± The older woman opened her other eye, and intensified her stare. ¡°How much have you invested in your charisma? You almost made me want to tell you there, for a moment.¡±


    Evenin smiled. ¡°You don¡¯t ask a woman her attributes...¡±


    Irrid rolled her eyes. Then abruptly shut out an arm and glided it through the air between them, producing a fast glimmering blue light in her palm that Evenin could see. The envoy was caught a bit off guard at first, but upon quick realization, sighed deeply and shook her head.


    ¡°669 points of wisdom and luck! Oh gods, you really doubled down on your career choice.¡± Irrid had a blank look on her face, as if looking at something inside her mind. My character statistics, Evenin made another, smaller sigh. ¡°That constitution though, you¡¯re very assassinable.¡± Irrid¡¯s blank look went away, and she went back to staring Evenin right in the eyes, before giving a nod to the creature behind the dwarf. ¡°I suspect that¡¯s why you got yourself that giant beast of yours. To make up for it. His constitution must be exceedingly high. And you trust him to keep you alive? He can¡¯t do much against a spell. And your enemies wield some powerful magic.¡±


    ¡°I trust him, and, I know.¡± Evenin admitted. ¡°But these might.¡± She raised a hand to touch her own braids, searching and finding 1 of her silver pins.


    ¡°Of course. You hide your magic items in your hair. Unorthodox, but clever. Explains why I could sense enchantments about your head. Was getting worried you¡¯d gotten one of those tattoo enchantments, those¡¯ve been getting too popular as of late.¡±


    ¡°Popular?¡± Evenin raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Yes. Many sons, daughters, bodyguards, the like, of the nobility and merchants I¡¯m forced to interact with. I¡¯ve seen more and more of them wearing those body enchantments over the years. Not as removable as a ring. But those people see that as a bonus. I prefer the flexible solution. But there¡¯s supposed to be one very good tattoo enchanter in Southwall.¡± Irrid looked out into the blue. ¡°Makes some powerful enchantments.¡± She tapped a finger at the side of her chin. ¡°I¡¯ve neglected to give that man a scholarly visit. But, maybe...¡± she tapped again in thought, ¡°when he improves some more.¡±


    With the witch gazing into nowhere, Evenin decided to change the topic again, as she just remembered something she genuinely wanted to talk with the witch about. ¡°So, you too heard about the dungeon lord activity in The Iron City?¡±


    Irrid turned her face slowly back to Evenin. ¡°The dungeon lords? You think so?¡±


    ¡°Who else would it be?¡± Evenin replied, surprised at Irrid¡¯s question.


    ¡°These latest acts do not fit the mark of a clever dungeon lord.¡± Irrid went back to looking into the blue. ¡°And a dungeon lord who affords herself to waste resources on useless missions like these? She would not be a long-lived dungeon lord.¡±


    ¡°Got away though¡± the envoy pointed out, ¡°so must be good.¡±


    ¡°Or the gnomes are easily fooled.¡±


    Neither of them said anything for several seconds. Instead, they just sat there, still, each in their own thoughts. Evenin looked a little over at Irrid, while Irrid looked at the empty wall ahead of her, behind the Footstool at the side of her desk.


    ¡°But shouldn¡¯t you be interested?¡± The dwarf woman eventually broke the silence. ¡°Given our deal?¡±


    Irrid¡¯s eyes slid quickly over towards Evenin. ¡°IF there¡¯s a big attack: I will act. I still hold true to our bargain. But it was for when the people need me ¨C truly need me. These incidents do not require my attention.¡± The witch¡¯s eyes slid back to look at the wall. ¡°For now, these are trivial matters.¡±


    ¡°But they might not end up trivial matters.¡± Evenin said quietly, trying to push without being pushy.


    ¡°The Iron City has Shoss. She can take care of her own. She¡¯s more powerful than nearly any of the university mages, and vastly more experienced in matters of war. They won¡¯t need me. But if they do ¨C then I¡¯ll come.¡± The witch turned to look Evenin directly in the eye. ¡°Satisfied?¡±


    ¡°I suppose.¡± Evenin produced a face of concession.


    Irrid went back to looking at her Footstool.


    ¡°What do you think about the findings of The... eh... Research Department... for Relations... Between The Gods and The Peoples. I think that¡¯s what you call them.¡±


    Irrid looked at Evenin again. ¡°They told you about that, did they? About classes?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Irrid nodded. ¡°What do you think? Is it as exciting as they make it out to be?¡±


    And the witch went back to look at her Footstool. ¡°Classes, yeah. Heh. Well, they¡¯re not wrong, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re afraid of. Classes are real.¡±


    ¡°You know your classes?¡± Evenin shot in.


    ¡°Yes¡± Irrid sounded almost annoyed to answer.


    ¡°What classes do you have?¡± Evenin face turned all excitement.


    ¡°I have 12 classes, and I qualify for class trainer in 11 of them. But¡± she shook her head, and leaned over her desk, looking Evenin straight in the eye, ¡°I won¡¯t tell you any of them.¡± Barely, just barely, Evenin detected a smirk. A little sadistic smile, the dwarf translated for herself.


    ¡°Well, a response I should¡¯ve guessed¡± she retorted, and waited a moment, ¡°hmpf. You never have anything to say about yourself. Not unless others can already plainly see the truth themselves. Can you at least tell me if I should pay attention to classes? Is it worth finding out about?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡± Irrid folded her hands together, as if contemplating. ¡°Depends. I don¡¯t know. Because I don¡¯t know what powers you¡¯ll find. But I¡¯ll make you a promise¡± she raised a finger, ¡°if you find out 1 of your unique new abilities and tell it to me, I will offer you 1, single, fair, hint. And then maybe, you will guess¡± the human paused for effect: ¡°1, of my classes.¡± A little barely noticeable smirk.


    Evenin did not respond for a few seconds. ¡°I must say¡± she said, ¡°I almost hope somebody will come along and steal your socks, straight from your feet, because you, Irrid, are one greedy witch.¡±


    The witch¡¯s smirk became more noticeable. But, the moment passing, the witch leaned back again, into her chair, her face changing. ¡°You think so, eh? Well, is your little ability of power level 142, as valuable an information as my... ooops, nearly spoiled my power level there. You and your charisma.¡± Irrid shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re almost dangerous with that. Well, as powerful as me, I should say. Someone vastly above you. Would you say that¡¯s a fair exchange of information?¡±


    ¡°We are on the same team, Irridiklara. You don¡¯t have to treat this as a bargain. We are friends. At least I think so. And friends share.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm¡± Irrid¡¯s mouth reacted. ¡°Not that good friends. I don¡¯t think so. And call me psychologically biased, but I think magic is a little more impressive than your speechcraft and social manoeuvers. A little more worth, and useful.¡± The witch folded her hands and played with her thumbs. ¡°I need but mana and a little mental clarity, to cast my spells well. You, on the other hand, depend on your networks of people. Almost useless outside of parties, and council meetings.¡±


    ¡°My parties aren¡¯t that useless.¡± Evenin defended calmly. ¡°I¡¯d say parties and council meetings is what built this city¡± she gestured around her.


    ¡°Really? And how was your parties last week. Did you make any new cities?¡±


    Evenin held in an eyeroll at the sarcasm, but the desire to make one must¡¯ve still been apparent on her face. ¡°The gnomes certainly want to make a new city, out of Ermos.¡± She responded. ¡°They really made their presence known when I visited The Little Mountain. In that huge Great Cavern Hall there, they had no issues finding me among hundreds of dwarves.¡± She thought back at the memory. ¡°But I don¡¯t believe you don¡¯t already know what they wanted.¡±


    ¡°Their desires have come to my attention¡± Irrid confirmed.


    ¡°Well. I¡¯d say, if their arguments and case was good enough, I could bring it up before my colleagues in The Young Mountains, and the West and the East could, thus, be connected. The Trans-Melrum Ironhorse. The city would never be the same.¡±


    Irrid, curiously, rolled her eyes at that, as if the dwarf had just said something silly. ¡°We¡¯re in Ermos, Evenin! This city is never the same. It never has been the same. Not a year goes by that it hasn¡¯t changed. And all that without the need for your lavish parties, of fat pigs and lazy dogs in people¡¯s attire.¡±


    ¡°But nobody wants¡± Evenin began defending, ¡°at least nobody I know, wants the city to just change on its own. Parties and council meetings are where the course of the city is adjusted. It¡¯s where we steer the fates of the people. And something like The Trans-Melrum Ironhorse would never happen on its own.¡±


    ¡°Meh¡± Irrid let out, clearly not one for pursuing that particular discussion any further. ¡°And so that¡¯s all that happened? Annoying gnomes.¡±


    ¡°Annoying gnomes.¡± Evenin responded. ¡°And one additional interesting discussion I had, with that other, recent personality.¡± Evenin grew an interest on her face, something that mildly infected Irrid with an interest as well. ¡°That excitable gnome leader ¨C Roovalup Gigalut.¡± Evenin smiled at a memory. ¡°Head of The Mecha-Gnomes Revenge. I trust you know him?¡±


    ¡°I am sorry to say that I do.¡± Irrid deflated back to her old sour self.


    ¡°And you also know that new dungeon which appeared a few years ago? That mage Jorteg¡¯s place?¡±


    Irrid nodded.


    ¡°The Little Mountain hate it, for the same reason they want to protect Wintershield. Jorteg has moved into The Lands of Ermos. By their eyes, that mage has claimed Ermos¡¯ territory. Gigalut was there at the party to make an announcement. It was a publicity stunt, obviously. A clever and timely publicity stunt. But he said this: the next Great Zerg of The Mecha-Gnomes¡¯ Revenge ¨C it¡¯s going to be Jorteg. They¡¯re going to vanquish him. Kill him.¡±

 Ch. 10: Sausage Men; The Ambush

    Up on a cliff, sticking out of a small hill, a green man¡¯s face peeked out from a bush. Orange eyes surveyed the landscape ahead. The landscape was full of dwarves, trudging on foot, riding rams, and driving wagons, their destination tracing the rough road stretching along the north and east of the Lands of Olam. A land that, several decades ago, had been a place bustling with the life of many different kin, but today lay almost empty. The goblin up on the cliff, counting the dwarves ¨C especially the armed dwarves ¨C had travelled across a land of empty farm houses, burned villages, and regrown pastures and -fields. All to be here. In hiding, spying, his muscled left arm gripping a shortbow, it too hidden by the bush. Not drawn, but there for comfort, and his own safety.


    ¡°255, 256, 257... 258.¡± The goblin man¡¯s deep quiet voice got to a count of 259 before he gave up getting the exact number, having lost track of who he¡¯d counted so far. Instead, he used his counting so far to estimate a little under 400 dwarves, about a third of them visibly armed. The real danger though, he considered, was the 30 or so ram-mounted cavalry. These warriors sat in their saddles with thick plated armor, and held axes nearly as tall as they were. A fearsome sight.


    ¡°Who¡¯s your lord?¡± an old voice came from behind. The goblin man froze, eyes bulging, fear surging, an inner chill descending down his naked exposed back like death itself had spoken. Ever so slowly, the goblin dared to push himself up from his knees, rustling the leaves of the bush as he turned his head, finding behind him a shape. A woman, more precisely, a witch in black, wrinkled, with sour lips, and eyes shining of emerald magic. Absorbing these details into his conscious though, he noticed a slight distortion about the woman¡¯s figure. Around her outline was this black flame, and as he looked on, he was certain he could see a hint of the afternoon¡¯s daylight going into and then through her, the rays breaking like going into water, where they instead became a dark blue discoloration, spreading out below across the grass, like her shadow painted blue. An ominous sight, his instincts assured him.


    ¡°Now?¡± The old woman raised an eyebrow, impatient. ¡°Speak man!¡± Commanding she was too, and the goblin sensed this overwhelming presence of magic, like being in the presence of a great dungeon lord. Seconds passed as the goblin merely stared over his shoulder. The goblin, whose looks were characteristic of his kin: fit, short like a dwarf, his cheeks round, and his face hairless ¨C he knew hardly what to do here, taken by surprise by this witch, but as the seconds ticked by, he decided on carefully crawling backwards out the bush, turn his body around, and to listen to his instincts. Coming over in a crouch, he squatted down in front of the woman, looking up and into her emerald eyes.


    ¡°I do not know your face, lord, but, the lord that I support is Dontan, Lord of Valorum, and Lord of The Dungeon of Passage. What, may I ask, is your name?¡±


    The old woman ignored his question. ¡°Dontan? Surely, Dontan is not here alone?¡± She raised a skeptical eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯d never believe him to have the guts to come out here alone, with his army, to target this large of a dwarven caravan all by himself. Who else is in on this scheme?¡±


    The goblin quieted again, weighing his own uncertainties and suspicions at this stranger who¡¯d found him out here, alone, when he was trying to stay concealed. ¡°If you can but tell me your name, powerful lord¡± he re-iterated, ¡°I can tell you, I¡¯m sure, who else but my lord is partaking in this mission.¡±


    To the goblin¡¯s surprise, the witch took a step forward, and squatted next to him, coming face to face. ¡°Heeh¡± she sounded at him, disapproval in her tone, and her teeth showing, almost like a growl. Curiously though, the goblin found her mouth produced no air with the sound, even this close. Almost as-if, his mind told him, she had no breath. ¡°My name¡± the witch continued, ¡°is respected by all dungeon lords who value their life.¡± With a grimace of general unhappiness, the witch rose back up, straightening herself. She stepped past the goblin, over to besides the bush, where a clear view revealed the procession of dwarves a little less than a hundred meters away. She raised a finger and pointed. ¡°That dwarf over there, riding a white bear, that is Evenin of Redratall.¡± The goblin turned again and crouched over. Coming next to the elderly woman, he squatted down and followed her finger. ¡°She is under my protection. If your lord wishes to live, he will respect my wishes. Tell him that Irridiklara The Witch forbids him, and all his allies, from attacking this caravan.¡± She looked down beside her, down into the squatting goblin¡¯s eyes. Then, like a blink of an eye, the woman vanished.


    The goblin, caught by total surpise, cast his eyes all around him. Seeing nothing, he looked towards all the directions along the cliff and the hill, trying to see where she¡¯d gone. But she was nowhere. ¡°Huh¡± he told himself, and decided to eventually crawl back into his bush. Only there to see, down in the distance and walking along the caravan: a new black figure.


    Over at the caravan, Evenin of Redratall, the returning dwarven envoy to Ermos, rode on her Snowman, deep in her own thoughts. Around her was a rather open landscape. A small hill, surrounded by yellow-brown grasslands curving up and down along the horizon. A few assemblages of trees dotted this landscape along with some other, lonelier trees. Meanwhile in front of her, and in front of all the other dwarves, along the road, another abandoned farm. ¡°Hmmf¡± Evenin sighed through her nose. The dwarf woman felt a mild sadness inside, looking at it. Even though she¡¯d seen such sights many times before, still it was a depressing reminder. The building¡¯s architecture was an ornate kind of brightly colored woodcraft, so this particular one had once been a small urban elven home. Rural urban elves? What a true contradiction of terms. Yet couldn¡¯t it just had been so? She shook her head at it. The farm had 3 buildings, including a large silo, which, along with the overgrown fields on either side of the road, made it apparent that this farm had once been growing grains. Food for Olam City, she surmised. A most likely scenario. The City of Olam, after all, had only a couple of human generations ago been a great city to the south. The capital and seat of the urban elven King of Olam, before it and the land fell to the dungeon lords. Now that city, hidden beyond at least 2 horizons, was little but a ruin of burned and cracked wood. So much loss here around us. And not just the elves. The vampires. Their lords, their communities, their stonebrick castles; gone and empty. And the others. The werebeast? Their villages scatter this land no less with abandonment. And the beast societies with their wild-gnomes? Gone from here. Or in permanent hiding, too afraid to even associate with other kin, least their locations be leaked to the dungeon lords. We erected guild strongholds in this land to reclaim it, yet, there¡¯s barely anything left to defend. Every time I travel here I get these feelings: always, like stepping through somebody else¡¯s collective trauma, seeing only the remains, only what I and my people couldn¡¯t save... Not against their spies, the treachery¨C


    ¡°¨CEvenin!¡± a voice suddenly spoke. The envoy, mentally interrupted by the outside world, extricated herself out from her own thoughts, to look around. She didn¡¯t immediately see anyone in her front, where her eyes had rested. And when she turned left, then right, all she could see was just a few plate-armored dwarves mounted on rams around her. Not until, that is, she looked behind herself, where she saw ¨C Irridiklara? ¨C except surrounded by some dark flaming magic, and below, cast from the witch¡¯s robe, some kind of dark blue shadow discoloring the ground and the grass.


    ¡°Irrid, what a surprise to see you here.¡± The dwarf lifted her right hand to gesture around the witch¡¯s form. ¡°All that means that you¡¯re doing something quite magical I suppose?¡±


    Irridiklara, who had hundreds of levels of power, decided to use her excessive agility to speedwalk forward, smoothly and silently over to Evenin¡¯s side.


    ¡°Are you using The Footstool of Gardamosh?¡± Evenin whispered towards her friend.


    ¡°Something to that sort¡± Irridiklara replied without direct eye-contact. ¡°I came only to tell you that you are being watched by scouts. Dungeon lord scouts.¡± The witches eyes looked to the landscape around them, as if trying to discern more scouts hiding in the assemblages of trees and bushes. ¡°I strongly suspect there¡¯s an imminent attack coming for the caravan, and you¨C¡± she turned to look forward but raised her chin to give Evenin the side-eye, ¡°¨Cmay be the main target.¡±


    To Irrid¡¯s mild surprise, Evenin¡¯s first reaction was to smile. ¡°Oh, and you are looking out for me are you? How touching of you to decide to come and tell me directly.¡±


    The elder witch rolled her eyes. ¡°These won¡¯t be a small band of foolish attackers, Evenin. You should take this warning to heart: they will be planning something grand to stand up to your caravan¡¯s numbers, I¡¯m sure of it.¡±


    ¡°Well¡± the envoy responded, a little more serious in her tone, ¡°that is not good...¡± She looked into the ground, ponderous for a moment. ¡°Sounds like I may actually end up in a fight then.¡±


    ¡°Been in any fights before?¡± The witch looked up into the dwarf¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°None that involved armies where I was anything but an observer¡± she frankly responded.


    ¡°And with your neglected constitution...¡± In that pause their eyes met fully, and the witch¡¯s warning clearly came through to the dwarf. ¡°Avoid dying. The world would be much more of an uncertain place without you, Minister Girl. I¡¯d say¡± Irridiklara sighed inwardly, ¡°it would even be a lesser world. But that¡¯s about as much affection as you¡¯ll get out of me.¡±


    ¡°Oh how lucky I am¡± Evenin tried joking, but the news did actually weigh heavy on her, and her lips, eyes, and expression remained focused in serious thought, even as her words tried to be playful.


    ¡°Know this, before I go¡± Irridiklara added, making the dwarf exit her own thoughts again to look at the witch. ¡°There will be goblins, probably. I found a goblin checking you out. And he was one of Dontan¡¯s. But I do not believe for a moment that Dontan would come after you all by himself. He is too cautious, I know that boy all too well. So there will be more dungeon lords I¡¯m sure. I can¡¯t tell who or how many, but they¡¯ll be well prepared. And so must you be. Take no chances the next days or week, do not feel out of harms way before you get to the start of Melrum¡¯s trail. They¡¯re unlikely to attack you so far away from the mountains, but it could happen almost anytime before that. Don¡¯t let them surprise you.¡± Irridiklara stared with an intense seriousness into Evenin¡¯s eyes. The dwarven woman simply nodded three times. Irridiklara continued staring all the way into the third nod, before nodding back. Then, as the witch cast her gaze away and over to the horizon, she vanished.


    Evenin, briefly taken aback by Irrid¡¯s magical disappearance, subsequently sat back on her furry ride, for a moment thinking. ¡°Forward Snowman¡± she spoke softly, and the bear pawed his way forward a little faster, letting the diplomat catch up to a particular plate-armored dwarf which¡¯d been riding on his ram in front of her.


    ¡°Cavalry Sergeant Castiron?¡± The dwarf, who had a long, thick ginger beard lightly tied in 3 places, and large thick ginger eyebrows, as well as a round helmet with neck- and nose guards, turned to look sideways over at the approaching bear-mounted woman.


    ¡°Envoy¡± he responded with a nod, not much surprised at being spoken to.


    ¡°Castiron, did you hear my conversation?¡±


    ¡°I got the gist of it, Envoy¡± he nodded again.


    ¡°What do you think of it?¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± The cavalry sergeant turned to look forward again, down into the ground ahead of them, a brief pause for thought. ¡°I think that if what The Witch says is true¡± his eyes returned to her, ¡°then we do as she says, and prepare well.¡±


    ¡°What would you recommend?¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± He looked away again, out over at the horizon, mouth opening as if waiting to be filled by mustering words. ¡°First¨C¡± he began, and then stared into nothing for a second more, ¡°¨Cwe should tell the troops and the rest of the caravan at our next break. While I am concerned that there may be some undue stress involved at telling the whole caravan, we must acknowledge that were a sufficiently large attack to happen, as The Witch did indicate, then it would be paramount that all dwarves be ready to sound the alarm, and be ready to fight. We¡¯re not an easy prey as is, but we¡¯re not a true army either, and we would be vulnerable against an actual enemy army.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Understood, cavalry sergeant.¡± Evenin, her hands deep in Snowman¡¯s fur, looked to the ground herself for a second. ¡°I¡¯d say, you make a fine analysis, and I approve of your plan.¡± She nodded without looking at him, then met his eyes once more. ¡°Let¡¯s make it happen at our next stop!¡±


    A couple of days later, and our goblin was out again, far from his kin, hiding in a bush. This time, he was hiding in the surrounding lowlands, his particular position surrounded by an assemblage of trees. Like before, he¡¯d chosen this exact location for the good view it gave out towards the dwarven caravan passing by. Today, though, something was different about the people he was watching. There had been a drastic uptick in the number of weapon-carrying dwarves, he was sure of it. As he tried counting once more, the number of armed dwarves in his estimation went from less than 150, to closer to 300. And that, ¡°That is bad news¡± the man whispered to himself. For he had already relayed information from his last findings. Now, those findings needed an update. After all, if the enemy¡¯s forces had adapted and grown, so too must theirs. The goblin waited for the whole procession to pass along the rough dirt road surrounded by fields and grasslands, and stalked them from the morning¡¯s bright sun, through the caraven¡¯s midday and late afternoon breaks, and until nightfall, whereupon the dwarves stopped to set up a large encampment out on a flat dry field, their wooden wagons surrounding their encampment like improvised fortifications, with numerous dwarves standing guard. Here, our goblin made his last observations of the day, crawling at a distance in the tall grass. In the commotions of late supper being prepared and the vigilant guarding, he had to be very careful to avoid being seen, and to sneak past the dwarven ram cavalry, which patrolled and scouted the outer areas of the encampment with serious glances, their hands tight around broad enchanted battleaxes. A single swing of which was deadly enough to end the scout¡¯s life.


    ¡°Too strong¡± the goblin whispered to himself. ¡°Night time is not a good time. Too strong.¡± Shaking his head, the goblin shot a last look through the tall grass, before he decided to crawl back from where he¡¯d come. However, a couple of ram-mounted dwarves rams were getting close, and while the goblin¡¯s green skin did hide him well within the brownish grass under the dark clouded sky, there was a chance the dwarves would discern the trail of bent and compressed grass which followed the goblin everywhere he crawled. So while he couldn¡¯t undo the trail he¡¯d left behind him, he took the time to be extra careful turning and then retracing his path out of the range of dwarven ears, and of the sight of dwarven eyes. It was a bit of an operation itself, really, but similar to ones he¡¯d done many times before, all since this dwarven caravan first was spotted in Olam. About 10 minutes it took, and then, many dozens of meters away: he was finally out. There the goblin took a chance and stood up, and began a sprint. Around him the landscape conveniently formed a downwards slope, and his relatively small figure was thus hidden, as he shot across it into the darkness of night.


    For nearly 3 hours this goblin continued on at haste. Sprinting, jogging, or when necessary walking at quick speeds, making his way through fields of sharp crisp dry grass, then navigating forests of sparse, short, yellow-leafed trees, and finally splashing into the slow creeks marking off the land. All this repeated itself many times. Ever so often, a collection of empty countryside houses, barns, and storehouses also passed him by. But just he ran, feets hurting, stomach growling, yet the fire of a scout¡¯s role burned in his heart. Never did he stop for long. Not until, that is, he came upon the abandoned werebeast village.


    In the dark of the night, most would indeed guess this place to be abandoned, for few things would indicate otherwise. But, somebody did notice the scout¡¯s return. Somebody, which the scout would not have similarly spotted, had he not known where to look for them. But he knew. Most of the village was surrounded by earthen mounds, against whose flattened vertical surfaces, log buildings had been erected. And up there, up on the wild grass roofs of the these log buildings so perfectly melded in with the mounds, there sat his goblin lookouts. And below them, inside the buildings? Over 200 other goblins, side-by-side, tucked together in great snoring choirs of peaceful slumber. Or at least as peaceful as anyone can be, waiting for the brutalities of war.


    The scout, which came upon the village speeding out from a nearby tall grass field, and arrived in between 2 of the village¡¯s larger mounds, slowed abruptly as he spotted a pair of orange eyes staring at him from above. As he slowed down, to a careful walking pace, he soon spotted a second and third pairs of orange goblin eyes, staring at him from the low sliding grass roofs. He thought he could hear a bow string slowly being strung.


    ¡°It is me, Seish The Scout. I have important news for Promise Sausage.¡± He stopped walking altogether, and stood there, hands up in calming gesture.


    The eyes of the mostly camouflaged goblin bodies merely continued to look at him for the next few seconds, blinking and then giving each other glances. ¡°Promise Sausage just went to sleep¡± one of the eyes¡¯ owners replied. ¡°Can it wait till morning?¡±


    ¡°I...¡± Seish stopped himself to consider the question, ¡°... I think Sausage would want to know this now. It is likely to interfere with the plan.¡±


    The 3 pairs of orange eyes glanced at each other again. Soon, a shadowy arm rose up and waved for the scout to pass. ¡°You know where Sausage sleeps.¡±


    Seish The Scout nodded up at the 3 lookouts, and resumed his walk.


    Passing into the village grounds, the goblin found himself surrounded by 6 grass-roofed, mound-adjacent log houses in every main direction, though not all at the same distance. Rather, together, these mounds and buildings stretched along an elongated clearing, which had the function of a dirt street. At either end of this dirt street were wells with stacks of buckets, and Seish, knowing which log house he needed to go to, crossed this clearing, over to the other side and past one log house. There was nothing particularly remarkable about this next log house which he stopped outside of, it was quite similar to the others, but he knew: here slept Promise Sausage, leader of their goblin flock, and warband.


    The wooden door, which had no lock (no need for one in the countryside), creaked mildly as Seish tried, very gently, to open it, and not disturb his snoozing comrades. Peeking inside, it was immediately clear that this log house had been divided up into 3 roughly equal parts. The room he subsequently entered was the common room, with a small kitchen, some empty shelves, and a table with 2 benches to eat at. Equipment and supplies, from goblin-size iron shovels to wide sacks of packed food, had been left inside here, spread around in piles on the kitchen counter, on the table, under the table, and around on the floor. This to keep it close, dry, and free of insects and worms. A lone goblin snoozed on a bench also. It wasn¡¯t Promise Sausage though, only some random goblin Seish had seen before but didn¡¯t know personally. On his left and right sides, 2 closed wooden doors led into what he presumed to be bedrooms. He¡¯d not been here before, so he did not know which door to try first, but decided on going left. Again, a small involuntary creak announced his entrance. Inside, 6 goblins lay snoring, with 3 comfortable on a large bed, and 3 spread down on the floor, including 1 goblin who raised her head to look up and over at him, eyes tired and face pained from the interruption.


    ¡°Sorry¡± Seish whispered very quietly at the woman. He looked around, searching for his target. On the left side of the bed, next to 2 other goblin men, he found him ¨C Promise Sausage. Very gently, the scout stepped across the floor, over 2 sleeping goblins, and to the bed¡¯s left side. For someone not a Tumi goblin, Promise Sausage didn¡¯t looked much different from any of the other goblins present. The only marks of a Promise, which Tumi goblins would definitely notice, was the chest tattoo, which in this case was a fat, juicy, pork sausage, drawn to look stuffed with melting dripping cheese and spices, and so big it ran all the way across the green man¡¯s bare chest. The tattoo glowed ever so slightly with reddish magic too, and as Seish came to stand close, he leaned over the sleeping Promise. The scout felt his mouth water at the magical sight, and at the thought of their next upcoming sausagefest. For this brewing salivation was grounded in more than the mere imagery before him, and its simple association. Rather, this was his stomach calling out to his goblin roots. For in Tumi culture, goblins elected their leaders thusly: only the most well-respected goblin chefs became leaders of warbands. Their names? That wasn¡¯t just a name, but an actual real promise, of every 3 months, to hold a great feast of their most popular and cherished dish. For the price of this promise, fulfilled at least every 3 months without break, for this other goblins flocked to follow the Promise, even into war. That was the true power of a Tumi goblin leader: the willing stomachs of their followers. Armies may march on their stomachs, but Tumis live by their stomachs.


    But their next sausagefest was 3 weeks from now, and as a single drop fell down onto Promise Sausage¡¯s chest with a SPLAT!, Seish grasped back control from his starving, vision-fueled urges, and focused on the sleeping goblin¡¯s less distracting face instead. ¡°Promise Sausage¡± Seish whispered, and as no immediate response was forthcoming, leaned in to whisper into the goblin¡¯s ear. ¡°Promise Sausage, I come with news.¡±


    Sausage opened his eyes slightly, peering sleepily at the goblin standing over him. He softly yawned, ¡°auohhh¡±, then whispered a proper response. ¡°Why have you woken me up?¡±


    ¡°I bare important news of the enemy, Promise Sausage. Please, let¡¯s go outside, so we may discuss it without waking the others.¡±


    Sheish snuck back out the door. Yawning in series every step of the way, the goblin leader managed to get out of bed, step over and past his fellow sleeping goblins, into the common room, and then after the scout, out the house door and into the night, where clouds had recently dispersed, revealing in their stead a bright moon, with moonlight spread all across the village grounds. Together, the goblin leader shambling with sleepiness, they stepped over to one of the wells, where the leader immediately leaned in on one of the plank coverings surrounding the hole into the well, his tired face held up by his leaning arm, and staring at Sheish. ¡°What news, scout?¡±


    Sheish stepped in close, leaning on the planks like his leader, and soon relayed all of the days findings, which took a few minutes to properly convey. In the course of it, the goblin leader became mildly more awake, with his other hand findings its way into his mouth, his teeth gently chewing on his fingers in thoughtfulness.


    GRRRUUUH! Sheish¡¯s belly sounded, and the eyes of the goblin war-chef wandered over to Sheish¡¯s embarrassed eyes, and then down to the attention-seeking belly.


    GRRRUUUH!


    The leader took his hand out of his mouth. ¡°Long since you¡¯ve eaten?¡±


    Sheish The Scout, who¡¯d ran for hours out in the open air, and had only had one small, lightly packed lunch, and some plucked berries on the way, all the day long ever since the break of dawn when he¡¯d first set out, and who was also getting to the point of exhaustion there where he stood, nodded mournfully back at his favourite source of dinner.


    ¡°Wait here¡± the war-chef commanded, then went back into the log house. It didn¡¯t take long though, before the great Promise returned, in his left hand a blessed mouth-watering spiced dry sausage, with a piece of dried out bread from earlier in the day. ¡°This should help keep you going for a bit longer. And also this¡± with his right he held out a small bag of roasted nuts and dried fruit, ¡°should keep your mind sharp now as we converse, if you eat it first.¡± The scout didn¡¯t need to be asked twice, but happily devoured the offerings of his Promise in the suggested order.


    ¡°Hmm¡± the Promise threw a couple of pieces of dried fruit into his own mouth, as he thought about what¡¯d been said. ¡°Mmm¡± he sounded with some uncertainty, and Seish sighed happily next to him. The meal wasn¡¯t much to the scout, but it was a little peace of paradise compared to starvation. ¡°This is not good news.¡±


    Sheish looked to the Promise, but did not comment.


    ¡°We need to tell Lord Dontan that he must get more forces to come join us, and quick. Our attack in 3 nights from now would be a disaster with these developments. Far too many goblins would die, even with the flocks of the 2 other Promises, this would be much too costly a battle.¡± Swalling his last bit of fruit, the goblin leader stared out into the night for a moment, before leaning back in on the plank and lightly chewing on his other hand again. ¡°Mmm-hmm... Also¨C¡° he released his hand, ¡°¨Ca night attack is normally the best time to attack, but, if they are as alert as you say, and have figured out a way to repeatedly fortify their positions, it may as well be the worst. I will suggest we set up an ambush late in the afternoon instead. Let them walk themselves tired and hungry, while we wait: relaxed, fed, and ready to flank. That¡¯s how we will, and how we must win this, I think. More numbers, take away their fortifications, and give our forces a superior state of preparedness.¡± His hand went back in, and he again chewed on himself with a ponderous mood.


    Sheish licked at his fingers as he finished his last bit of bread and then spicy sausage. He looked over at his thinking war-chef. ¡°What about the warnings of the Witch? Have you told Dontan of my meeting?¡±


    ¡°M-yes...¡± the hand escaped his teeth again. ¡°But he believes the whole thing to be a bluff.¡± The leader stared into the darkness of the village grounds. ¡°I¡¯ve not met Irridiklara The Witch before myself, but the stories are all clear on one thing: if she is there to meddle, we shouldn¡¯t. So let¡¯s just hope this: that Dontan¡¯s instincts are correct.¡±


    ¡°And if they¡¯re not?¡± the scout raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Then¡± the goblin leader started, before pausing dramatically, and nodding to himself. ¡°Then: this is not our battle to fight, not even a league in which we can hope to stand a chance, nor be anything but the starter course of a long, long dinner of many meals. All of us, every goblin together, we¡¯d be a meal devoured without effort, making but the barest of difference. And that¡¯s not how I¡¯m going to die¡± Promise Sausage stared over into Sheish¡¯s eyes, ¡°and not you either.¡±


    The goblins went to sleep. And days passed, and nights passed, and more importantly for the Tumi goblins: many meals passed.


    This was one week later.


    The goblin scout was once more out in the overgrown fields, peering out over a precession of dwarves, rams, and wagons. However, this time he was not alone. This time, all around him: in the grass spots next to him, behind nearby trees, behind nearby boulders, and within small, cramped, dug out tunnels next to the dirt road, here a total of over 400 other goblins hid with him. Weapons in hand, hearts pounding, anxieties expressed in long heavy breaths... yet there was no sound loud enough to be carried by the air.


    And behind this goblin force, waiting to be summoned forth from a distance? 600 more allies.

 Ch. 11: Belly Attacks; The Ambush

    At first, Evenin did not understand what was happening.


    Riding on Snowman along the dirt road, her sight ahead was somewhat obscured. On all sides she was flanked by ram cavalry, their long broad axes and thick plate armor shining with metallic deterence. In front of them, a double platoon of dwarven soldiers marched behind a broad tall wagon.


    There was little sound coming from ahead, except some unaudible or uninformative shouts of surprise. The latter mostly containing dwarven expletives. She saw Cavalry Sergeant Castiron straighten to attention, and stare. He kicked his ram, galloping ahead, and out of sight. The soldiers around her, and the few merchants and their assistants she could see ahead or hear behind her, they all expressed or gave off the same tired and confused state as she felt. Everyone was just looking to the other. Meanwhile, a few rams stirred, like they sensed something.


    The first telling sign of what was really going on came not from the front though, but from a dwarven ram cavalrywoman, who suddenly charged in from a treeline some few dozen metres away, crossing a small tall grass field towards Evenin¡¯s general area. She was shouting ¨C no, SCREAMING ¨C at top of her lungs, trying to tell her comrades something.


    ¡°¨Cooobliiins!¡± Evenin managed to catch, and then again, a little closer, ¡°GoooBlIINS!¡±


    Finally, Evenin understood the message full and clear, as an arrow WOOOSH! just past her face, followed by a series of WOOOSH-WOOOSH-WOOOSH-WOOOSH!, a hail of a dozen or so arrows aimed not just at her, but also the caravan¡¯s guards. 2 arrows, before she even managed to make a single decision, shot right for Snowman¡¯s neck ¨C but broke off direction. My magic pins, she instinctively grabbed for them, thank the gods they also protect mounts! My Snowman! Evenin cast her eyes around, fearful and concerned, and saw arrows, bolts, and even javelins rain from the nearby bushes and trees. Watching those same bushes and trees, she saw the first goblins a dozen or so metres away from the road peak out, revealing their positions. So few, was all that Evenin could think, before a sudden WAVE of goblins stood up, all across the fields. Evenin looked across the fields to her right, then to her left. It had happened on both sides. Shocked out of her mind with fear, Evenin could do little but stare towards the dozens upon dozens of goblins, as the first of them started to prepare new arrows for bows, new bolts for crossbows, and others reached back with whole arms, new javelins in hands.


    The next wave of projectiles flew high and landed all about her and the other dwarves, but as she watched the hail, a noise came to distract her. A ram in front was jumping around, the ram¡¯s steel plate protections smacking against each other with each jump. The creature, experiencing an utter horror and desperation, was trying to escape a javelin sticking out from its neck. A metallic THUD! The ram¡¯s rider had been cast off to the dirt road. The mount, continuing its desperate dance a little while longer, forced the other cavalrists to back away. But the show was not to go on forever. Soon, the ram collapsed, sideways. There, on soil compacted by generations of being stepped on, the ram whined quietly, bleeding out. Altogether, the scene had to Evenin been shocking and disturbing. Still, a little hope concerning their own fate was refunded to her, when the ram¡¯s rider stumbled back up to his feet, and, standing tall with axe in hand and armor shining, effortlessly deflected a couple of incoming arrows and a bolt.


    As dramatic and horrible as the events all around them were though, this was merely the start. I¡¯m in a battle. A real BATTLE. Yet there¡¯s nothing for me to do... nothing, but staying alive! She turned her head to look around left, right, and behind. Snowman acted restless, and kept backing up and moving around in response to the noises and the incoming projectiles, and the projectiles seemingly came from everywhere. As Evenin tried to get a grasp of the situation, it became clear to her that the caravan was, for all intents and purposes, surrounded by an enemy who was not quite fully hiding, but whose numbers remained unclear, and more importantly, was yet to charge them. As she sought to grasp the situation, one thing became increasingly clear though: Nowhere, I can hide nowhere. Me and Snowman are trapped. If I dismount, my enchanted pins won¡¯t protect Snowman. And me on top of Snowman, I am too big a target to hide when we¡¯re being attacked from everywhere! As the envoy¡¯s mind raced inside, trying to tame her despair and at the same time find the right thing to do, a voice approach from ahead, hailing everyone in turns. ¡°MERCHANTS! MERCHANTS! ANGLE YOUR WAGONS TOGETHER! FORM A WALL, AND HIDE!¡± It was Cavalry Sergeant Castiron, riding on his ram with haste, down the caravan line, his long battleaxe in hand, and his voice belowing out loud, clear, and commanding. ¡°SOLDIERS! SOLDIERS! GROUP UP, PROTECT EVENIN AND THE WAGONS!¡± Lastly, as the man homed in on Evenin¡¯s area, he commanded his own group. ¡°CAVALRY, CAVALRY, JOIN ME, WE¡¯RE GOING OUT FOR A CHAAARGE!¡±


    The war leader, galloping along the road, curved in towards Evenin¡¯s exact position, before a great flock of ram-mounted dwarves kicked into gear and converged around his tail, the sergeant¡¯s bringing them all out, away, and into the fields on the caravan¡¯s right, whereupon another command was thrown out. ¡°SPREAD OUT AND SLAY THE ENEMY! SHATTER THEM, SHAAATTER THEM!¡±


    Seeing the force of heavily armored rams and dwarves charge at them with their long axes outstretched, most of the goblins had the smart idea of making a tactical retreat out of harms way. Other goblins, who were a little too close to the road, did not have the luxury of turning their backs to mounted dwarves however, and rather decided to make themselves as difficult targets to strike down as possible. They jumped around in the grass and sprinted circles around the rams, hoping to outpace the dwarves¡¯ ability to rotate their positions. This was in many cases quite effective, while in other cases the rams eventually either kicked the goblin to the ground or simply charged at the person with their massive curved horns, the result being the same. In a last scenario, there were a few goblins who had less than healthy concern for their own life. These instead decided to play battle hero, and duelled the charging dwarves with spears that had been concealed in the tall grass, or aimed there bows up close in the hopes of striking critical blows. Every single one of these though, one after the other, died their heroic deaths. Against stubborn battle-brave bodies, the dwarven charge was merciless and crushing. But outside of just the handful of goblins who had decided to stand their ground, and a couple more who hadn¡¯t survived trying to run away or outmaneouver the rams, the rest got away and was merely dispersed for the moment.


    Having chased his enemy away and made some initial enemy casualties, Cavalry Sergeant Castiron trotted back towards Evenin¡¯s position, waving his axe in the air. ¡°REFORM! CAVALRY REFORM WITH ME!¡±


    The caravan¡¯s cavalry converged on him again, and as he came upon Evenin¡¯s position, the man pointed down and over towards some foot soldiers, who had in the meantime been busy shielding the wagon-pulling rams from the attackers, and helping the merchants to start rolling wagons into makeshift walls around the envoy. ¡°Infantry Corporal Steelstasche!¡± yelled the mounted leader.


    A wrinkled, old, dwarven soldier, responded to the call. With grey hair, a grey full beard, and the most voluminous grey moustache Evenin had ever seen, as well as a deep battlescar next to his right eye, the corporal made something of an impression as he speed-walked over towards the trotting sergeant, who in turn slowed down to a halt. ¡°What is it, Cavalry Sergeant?¡±


    ¡°You be in command of local defence here at the mid-section now. Corporal Rollingstone leads defence at the front, and I¡¯m heading over the rear to set up Corporal Coalsniffer for the same. We¡¯re looking at the broadest possible front ahead of us, and I will have to stay mobile to protect it all. I will be back for more orders later. But for now these are my orders: stay put, and stay close to the road if possible!¡±


    Infantry Corporal Steelstasche, battle-ready with a handaxe in his right hand, and a long rectangular shield in his other, closed both eyes in a quick, but slight bow. ¡°We will hold, Cavalry Sergeant.¡±


    The mounted leader looked up and kicked his ram into a trott again. ¡°CAVALRY, WITH ME! WE CHARGE AGAIN!¡± The rams passed Evenin in a flurry of trotting hoves, and swarmed out into the leftside fields. The sergeant kicked his ram into a gallop, axe pointed in the general direction of this new large set of goblins, also armed with arrows, crossbows, and javelins. ¡°DISPERSE, CAVALRY! AND SLAY THE ENEMY!¡± He chopped with his axe through the air for visual emphasis. ¡°NO MERCY! SHATTER THEM! SHATTER THE GOBLINS WHO DARE ATTACK OUR CARAVAN!¡± The cavalry ran across the fields, a horrific sight for the goblins, who mostly decided on the same tactical retreats of their comrades. As the cavalry cleaned up the fields and nearby bushes of goblins visibly firing projectiles, the sergeant shouted out for another reform and their numbers swarmed away towards the fields of the rear, where they, as far as Evenin could tell, repeated their tactic of goblin dispersal.


    With the cavalry away, Infantry Corporal Steelstasche busied himself with directing the defences. While a dozen or so soldiers put aside their axes and shields to help with the wagons, who were serially stuck in the difficult terrain under the tall grasses, the corporal shouted at them in his deepest, loudest voice possible. ¡°PUSH, MEN! ¨C and women, you too, and our enby, you also Private Gemcut ¨C PUSH LIKE YOU HAVEN¡¯T TAKEN A SHIT IN WEEKS! THIS BE A WAR YOU¡¯RE IN NOW, AND IT IS THE BIGGEST SHIT YOU¡¯RE EVER GOING TO DEAL WITH! SO PUUUSH! YOUR HEALTH ¨C hark-hark¡± the man coughed and cleared his throat ¡°¨Cdepends on it!¡± His throat dried up momentarily, and the man grabbed a flask at his belt to moisturize it.


    It took excruciatingly long for the wagons to be set up across the road, in the manner that they also stuck out into the fields on both sides, taking on the shape of an octangular fort of crudely joined wagon-walls. With the fate of the battle still entirely unknown and no charging yet by the enemy, getting ready for that time was on the minds of all of the caravan¡¯s defenders. Or could they want to draw us out in a battle of arrows and bolts? Evenin considered the issue as she watched the first 4 wagons roll into place out in the fields.


    WOOOSH! an arrow flew over her. She looked back from whence it had come, out into the fields on the right side of the road. The goblins are reforming!


    PRRRFT! A spatter of red hand-sized but gasous flares, shot out and near instantenously vanished above Evenin¡¯s head. ¡°Someone cast magic on me!¡± she exclaimed, and ten or so nearby dwarves all immediately looked towards her. ¡°Eeeh¡± she let out, unsure of what to say next, before her accumulated instincts as a politician overtook her insecurities. ¡°I¡¯m certain somebody targeted me with a remote spell, for that was the effect of a spell block.¡±


    The dwarves looked at her, and at each other. Nobody had anything to say, but they all looked worried. It was after all their job to protect her. But magic, and least of all remotely cast magic, was not part of their skillsets.


    GRRRUUUH!


    Evenin looked down at a female infantrist. The dwarf, carrying her heavy rectangular shield in her left hand, made a pained expression while moving her right axe-holding hand to her belly.


    GRRRUUUH! The belly repeated the sound, louder this time.


    ¡°Private Understone?¡± Infantry Corporal Steelstasche came over. ¡°What is the matter with you?¡±


    GRRRUUUH-GRRRUUUH! 2 more stomachs growled, but this time it wasn¡¯t Private Understone, who just looked back at her leader with an expression simultaneously pained and embarrassed. The infantry corporal turned around to find the offending stomachs. He didn¡¯t need to look far though, because the other 2, a couple of bearded men, gently held their bellies in that same manner.


    GRRRUUUH-GRRRUUUH-GRRRUUUH! The corporal¡¯s eyebrows rose up, and his eyes bulged. ¡°It¡¯s spreading...¡± he whispered. Then, momentarily stunned, he burst out into a shout. ¡°IT¡¯S THE CURSE OF MASS HUNGER! THE CURSE OF MASS HUNGER! MEN, WOMEN, ENBY ¨C a powerful Tumi Promise is here. Do not fall prey to the goblin magic. The Curse is AN ILLUSION, a SPELL of TRICKERY! You ain¡¯t hungry soldiers, your bellies are being fooled!¡±


    GRRRUUUH-GRRRUUUH-GRRRUUUH-GRRRUUUH!


    Corporal Steelstasche¡¯s own stomach was among this next round of new and returning growlers, but like a character of steel, worthy of his stasche and name, the veteran infantrist showed no expression of it affecting him. Rather, he performed an effortless act of ignoring it, and, as one younger soldier clutched extra deeply at his belly, the corporal focused his eyes on him. With a stern expression, he speed-walked up to the man, and berated the subordinate at the top of his lungs. ¡°YOU AIN¡¯T HUNGRY SOLDIER! STAND TALL AND TAKE YOUR MIND OFF OF IT! ARE YOU NOT A GROWN MAN IN CHARGE OF YOUR OWN BODY!? ARE YOU NOT!?¡±


    GRRRUUUH! The stomach only complained louder, and the soldier looked up at his leader with a deeply pained expression. ¡°But, corporal... I¡¯ve been hungry-marching for over 2 hours. I think I¡¯m actually just very, very hungry.¡±


    ¡°Truly hungry, are you? In the middle of battle, you fancy yourself the luxury to think about DINNER!? SHUT YOUR COMPLAINTS AND FOCUS ON THE BATTLE, SOLDIER! You can bloody eat when you ain¡¯t at the risk of your OWN SLAUGHTER!¡± The corporal sheath his own handaxe and then, with his free hand, slapped hard the hungry man¡¯s face. ¡°ANYBODY ELSE WANTS TO PLAY PICKNICK UNDER A RAIN OF ARROWS!? NO!? THEN STAND GODS-BE-DAMN TALL SOLDIERS! Straighten up your backs and look NOT to your belly, BUT! TO ¨C THE ¨C DAMNED ¨C ENEMY!¡± With each word he thrust his shield in the direction of the shooting goblins.


    To the corporal¡¯s credit, the dwarves for the most part did exactly as he said. And even though it was clear on many of their faces that they were indeed pained by the effects of an illusory hunger, more or less mixed with the very real hunger coming from hours of marching on the road, the shouting at least got the soldiers to focus their attention on their tasks. Most soldiers now put considerably extra stress into protecting their comrades with their shields, while the latter exposed their backs and fronts to an ever intensifying projectile rain. They were trying to move the last wagons into place. Unfortunately, by the time this task was finishing up, this renewed discipline had not saved everyone. 1 dwarf was shot critically in the neck from a bolt. Meanwhile, 3 more dwarves had to be carried by their comrades to the safest spots behind the wagons anyone could find. The latter so covered with bolts that their bodies, dying slowly from the organ-piercing damage and non-stop bleeding, risked becoming trivial prey for that stream of deadly iron-tipped wood.


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    ¡°ALL WALLS IN PLACE, CORPORAL!¡± It was Private Gemcut who announced the completion of the objective, as their group finally lodged the last wagon in place.


    ¡°Good work, Private!¡± Steelstasch turned to look around at the awaiting crowd of dwarven soldiers, at the improvised militia of armed merchants and armed merchant assistants, at Evenin, and at those who had no weapons but were simply there to seek cover. ¡°Now everyone get inside our fort, find yourself cover, and get yourself ready for the goblins to come swarming in through the cracks. At some point these cowards will run out of bolts and arrows, and then they will have to charge us!¡±


    But it wouldn¡¯t take long after the corporal had given his orders, and ordered an equal distribution of armed people around the inside of the octagonal fort, before the arrows and bolts stopped entirely. For all intents and purposes, their particular area ceased to have any combat activity whatsoever. Meanwhile, over the eery silence of their immediate surroundings, everyone could hear shouts and screams from afar. The distant sounds of metal against metal, the cracking of wood, and the faint wooosh! of distant arrows.


    Evenin, perhaps most of all, felt that their silence was totally wrong; that it had to mean something, and something bad. What are the goblins¡¯ plans? Why aren¡¯t we being targeted for anything? Snowman pawed heavily over to Corporal Steelstasche¡¯s cover spot, where the diplomat locked eyes with the veteran. ¡°What is it, envoy?¡± animated the steel-color moustasche.


    ¡°I¡¯m just wondering¡± she replied, eyes disconnecting and looking out over the wagons, ¡°is this inaction we are facing from the enemy ¨C while our comrades are obviously experiencing real fighting ¨C is this perhaps the intent of the goblins?¡±


    Steelstasche raised an eyebrow. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just observing, that if Infantry Corporal Coalsniffer is defending the rear, like we defend the middle, and Infantry Corporal Rollingstone defends the front, have we not been dividing our forces into 3 parts, each of which is more vulnerable, than if everyone came together?¡±


    Steelstasche squeezed his lips together and nodded. ¡°Aye, it is so. But unfortunately envoy, I have my orders. And, orders aside, joining up isn¡¯t much of an option right now.¡± He leaned in on his shield, eyes and face in thought.


    ¡°Why not?¡± she gave him a raised eyebrow in turn.


    ¡°Hmm.¡± He pursed his lips this time, and looked down for a bit. Something that caused his lips to altogether disappear under the magnificent stasche. ¡°I do not think we can risk exposing ourselves to enemy fire by trying to join together our forts. The effort would take too long to achieve, and in the meantime, we¡¯d be even more vulnerable. If that was to be our plan, we at least would¡¯ve had to have done so from the start. And the alternative, that we all sprint over into their fort, I suspect then there wouldn¡¯t be much room for proper cover. We¡¯d be so packed together, envoy, the wagons would barely protect us all.¡±


    ¡°But shouldn¡¯t we try joining up? Your comrades could be overwhelmed over there. And if that happens, they¡¯ll simply overwhelm us next.¡°


    The corporal, his face being just one kind of unsure expression after the other now, bit his teeth as he glanced towards the ground. ¡°No ¨C orders are orders!" He looked up and met her eyes. "We¡¯ll tell Cavalry Sergeant Castiron this when he returns. In the meantime, trust the sergeant¡¯s reasoning, envoy.¡±


    Evenin did not retort. Instead, she just looked above the wagons with worry on her face, the distant sounds of ongoing fighting readily heard by everyone. And, quite disturbingly among these metallic and wooden sounds and the shouting and the yelling, there were also this: screams. And the uncertainty of what events were producing such primal exclamations of agony disturbed many a listener.


    For minutes the corporal managed to play down these sounds in his head. To him, they were just the normal sounds of battle. He had, after all, been in several battles throughout his long life, and screams were common there. Screams of pain after suffering a hit, screams of sorrow after losing a comrade, in battle that was natural. However, the other present element was a little more difficult not to be affected by. He was trying very hard not to notice the envoy, who was staring worryingly into the beyond of their wagons, in the direction of that front-most fort. Maybe it was her huge charisma score at play here, but he find in that worried expression of hers something that challenged his very soul. Still, he was a hard soul, and if ignoring her was what he needed to do, then he would make an effort of it! As such, the old dwarf turned around and away from the woman, at first. Then he tried talking to his nearby comrades, about particular archers and crossbowyers over in the fields and in the trees. They could spot some of them through the cracks of their wagon walls and even some more from under the wagons. He exchanged some few sentences with these soldiers, as well as some pointings with fingers and hands. These pointings were also coupled with moments of peering at a particular bush, and then a second peering at a spot of grass. After a while though, Steelstasch ran out of effective looking to do. He was the infantry corporal in charge, after all. His job wasn¡¯t to be a spotter. So he decided instead to organize the retrieval of the unit¡¯s healing and stamina potions from a few cleverly hiddensacks inside the wagons, and got dwarves to start treating those who¡¯d been initially wounded by the bolts and arrows. But, as he wasn¡¯t a healer himself, soon there wasn¡¯t much for him to do there either but deliver a little encouraging speech to the wounded, before delegating the rest. He managed to busy himself with some inspection and patrols after that, but every time he found himself done with any such little bit of battle-worthy activity ¨C which was one of the utmost few things to do really while waiting inside the octagon in passive defence ¨C he found himself turning around, surveying the fort¡¯s interior, only to once more see that woman. For there, upon her great white bear, she sat, face worried, sad maybe even, eyes looking for something in the distance, maybe the telltale signs of what was going on, or perhaps she was following something from upon her higher position. Whatever it was, her gaze, her staring, it was really starting to get to him. It took several such repeated accidental noticings of her sitting there, but in the end, Infantry Corporal Steelstasch he had to admit that, he was starting to notice something. Something inside of himself. It was his heart, more precisely. Ever so slightly, he could feel it melting. He, the man with the beard of steel, he was losing his steel.


    The man sighed. And paused some to think... It was time to act. The mood of worry was not just an eyesore to behold, it was also spreading fast amongst the soldiers and the merchants, many of whom were now also looking, with similar faces, out through the wagon cracks, out towards the other forts. He sighed again.


    ¡°Private Gemcut¡± he spoke, his body aimed at the dwarf so named, who was currently leaning against the middle of the wagon next over.


    The enby straightened to attention immediately. ¡°Corporal?¡±


    Steelstasch stepped over and stopped in front of they. ¡°I have a mission for you.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°I think that we should gather a little information about the ongoings of this battle. So, you are the most agile among us here on foot. Therefore, I want you get a couple of other fast ones together with you, and run up over to Corporal Rollingstone¡¯s fort. Ask him how things are going if he¡¯s not too occupied, and get back here quickly and safely.¡±


    ¡°Alright Corporal¡± Gemcut produced a swift nod, ¡°I¡¯ll get to it!¡±


    The corporal walked back slowly, stopping next to Evenin on the way. The dwarf woman looked down towards the approaching man. ¡°I¡¯ve sent scouts.¡± He said. ¡°We should know soon if anything of note is happening.¡± Evenin didn¡¯t respond verbally, but merely bowed graciously on her great white one. Steelstasch continued walking over to the spot behind the wagon where he¡¯d been seeking cover before. For a while he waited there, in thought and watching the arrows and bolts WOOOSH! by, mostly above him, but occassionally one also came through the cracks on the sides, or landed under the wagons.


    After a while, he was starting to grow impatient at the never-endingness of the slow projectile rain. He decided to turn over towards another dwarf man some 2 meters away, who was peeking out at the enemy from behind the cover. ¡°Private Keenstone?¡± The other dwarf, a ginger with an extra thick goatee for facial hair and some ginger sideburns, stopped peeking and turned to face his corporal.


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    ¡°Seen anything?¡± Steelstach planted his shield in the ground and sheathed his handaxe. Leaning in on the shield, the man stroked his upper lip hair, then added: ¡°Any ideas what they may be planning?¡±


    ¡°Hmm...¡± Private Keenstone cast eyes back beyond the cracks, and looked to be briefly thinking. ¡°No corporal. There is lots of movement, and I¡¯ve seen some large shapes crossing the field in the grass, but I can hardly discern what they are, or what is being planned. It might be possible¨C¡°


    ¡°CORPORAL!¡± It was the voice of Private Gemcut, and the corporal nearly swirled at the shout, surprised to see the enby back so soon. 2 jogging dwarf men followed at the first one¡¯s heels.


    ¡°WE¡¯RE HERE!¡± Gemcut exclaimed partially out of breath. The 2 others caught up within a few seconds, where they halted behind Gemcut rather abruptly. The 2 behind planted their shields into the ground, and leaned in, heaving heavily with massive breaths of air.


    ¡°Alright!¡± Steelstasch picked up his own shield and stepped up to the private. ¡°Report?¡± He cast eyes to each of the soldiers in turn.


    ¡°WE¡¯RE HERE!¡± Gemcut reiterated, less out-of-breath now, and with back straightened, as if the statement had been some complete and full explanation.


    Corporal Steelstasch looked about, confused, and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Yes... I can see that you are here, Private. Now, report!¡±


    To Steelstasch¡¯s yet more surprise, the private didn¡¯t reply immediately, but instead quickly diverted their attention away from him as their eyes bulged at something. Meanwhile, Steelstach started to hear lots of shouting and yelling around the octagon.


    ¡°What is it?¡± He cast a glance towards the direction Gemcut had looked, but saw nothing. Then he looked around, hoping for someone to tell him. Nobody did. He looked back at Gemcut. ¡°REPORT!¡± It came out like a demand. But Gemcut wasn¡¯t looking at him at all, instead, walking up to him, they grabbed his left shoulder, and forcibly turned him on the spot.


    ¡°WEREHARE!¡± they pointed. Steelstasch followed the finger up and to the cloth-covered roof of a wagon. Atop there, a human-sized creature of fur, with ears the length of an elbow, and some nasty sharp protruding front teeth, crawled around with spying purpose, the creature¡¯s crazed hare-like predatory eyes scouring the dwarves below.


    ¡°Werehare?¡± Corporal Steelstasch asked the air. Then, coming to his senses, his own heart jumped into a frenzy, and the man suddenly acutely aware of what he was now seeing, screamed out in a voice full of command. ¡°WEREHARES! TO BATTLE EVERYONE, DEFEND THE FORT!¡±


    The werebeast for its part acted almost like it it hadn¡¯t been seen at all, or rather, like it didn¡¯t care that it¡¯d been seen. Instead, it rose into a crouch, as 2 other werebeast landed atop of the same wagon, and the scene went from 2 crazy predatory eyes watching them to 6.


    ¡°SHIELDS AND AXES READY!¡± Infantry Corporal Steelstasch unsheathed his own handaxe and jogged over to the wagon occupied by the werehares. Dwarves from all over the octagon came flocking over too, ready to kill the werebeast should any one of them dare to climb down.


    But the werehares didn¡¯t. Instead, other werehares started to land upon the roofs of another wagon, placed at a very different end of the octagon, and now many of the dwarves started flocking there too, leaving a sparser quantity of dwarves to guard the remaining directions.


    As the furred kin continued to look down, and the metal-geared kin continued to look up, the former made few motions, while the latter started to grow agitated. Agitated, that is, with a nervous impatience bursting to come loose upon an enemy.


    ¡°COME DOWN AND FIGHT US YOU SCARED RABBITS!¡± one dwarf pointed challengingly with his handaxe.


    ¡°AYE-AYE!¡± another shouted, ¡°have you only come to sit and watch us!? COME DOWN HERE AND FIGHT LIKE REAL WARRIORS!¡±


    None of the werehares said anything in response. And as a dwarf with a crossbow fired a bolt in one of their¡¯s direction, the werehare in question merely ducked, the bolt missing by quite a margin.


    The mob of angry dwarf soldiers grew bigger, and louder, as the werehares, unarmed, but clad in leather armor with bits of connecting metal pieces, merely continued scouring any and all of the dwarves.


    Then, one of the werehares, the first among them to have been spotted, jumped. It was a totally unexpected and incredible jump, the werebeast shooting through the air before landing several meters away, just outside of the largest concentration of dwarves. The landing itself came effortlessly and smooth, as two furry long, bare feet cushioned the contact with the ground. However, instead of merely stopping there, those same feet used their gathered momentum to continue going. Before anyone had even managed to fully register the new situation, the werehare sped past the few close by dwarves. And there, inside the octagon, started to run, fast, at a speed none present could even hope to remotely keep up with. For a moment, the whole octagon started joining in on one bi panicked chase. However, as circumstances would have it, the werehare wasn¡¯t the one truly being chased. Because over the course of the next few seconds, it became clear to many that the creature wasn¡¯t running at random, but had its eyes fixed and focused on one dwarf in particular. A sole male, shield in one hand, small axe in the other, and standing alone a few meters away from anyone else.


    ¡°What is it doing!?¡± Steelstasch asked as he watched the werehare race at the dwarf, who, understanding where the werehare was heading, merely put up his own large rectangular shield in defence. This though, would prove to be less than useful. For as the speeding werebeast closed in, its body full with visible and bulging muscles, the creature, in an instant, put both its legs together, and jumped once more. Like a huge catapulted projectile of its own, it aimed its whole self, feet going first, towards the top of the dwarf¡¯s shield.


    BONK!


    The top of the shield connected with the soldier¡¯s own head in a violent, sudden and crashing motion. The werehare meanwhile, having used both its feet in the collision with the shield, used the connection to the dwarf¡¯s head to turn its own jump into a backwards flip. And so, as the dwarf came smashing into the ground, the werehare landed graciously and expertly in front of the soldier, whose fallen body didn¡¯t move a muscle.


    Dwarves who had already been running towards the werehare continued running, while the others tried to fully understand what had just happened. The werehare, though, lost no time standing around. Instead, with everyone¡¯s eyes at it, it quickly ran over to the unconscious body, and bent down, lifting the dwarf¡¯s seemingly unconscious body up, shield and axe slipping out of hands. The werehare, apparently very strong, seemed to have zero problem carrying the heavy body, but simply began running again, aiming for the first of the less guarded wagons in sight. Many dwarves ran as best they could to intercept the werehare now, but in its aim for an escape it curved around each and every one of them with ease, even dodging one dwarf who managed for a split second to interpose himself in the werebeast¡¯s path. Soon, the furry creature had closed in on the wagon. There, in front of a small crowd of soldiers, blocking with their shields, and axes raised to cut it down, the werehare did not stop to think. Rather, it simply pushed extra hard at one step, putting both its feet together mid-air, before landing again and pulling its legs into a low position. From down there, it once again jumped, high above the dwarves, and onto the top of the wagon it had aimed for, this one filled and stacked tightly with barrels held together by rope.


    As the creature subsequently vanished over the barrel-stack without looking back, Infantry Corporal Steelstasch came jogging over, a perplexed expression on his face.


    ¡°What just happened?¡± Private Gemcut, who was jogging next to him, asked. They both came to a halt, the corporal just looking at the vanishing spot where the werehare had just jumped away.


    ¡°I truly... don¡¯t know...¡± He stood there for a few seconds, in thought, biting his own teeth. ¡°This is new to me.¡± He turned to look at Gemstone, his face still in shock. Gemstone returned an expression only mildly less shocked. ¡°They just abducted one of our privates. I have no idea what they¡¯re planning, but we must adapt to this. There are more werehares watching us, and that one may be coming back for more of us. So, we must be ready, and not let it happen again!¡±


    Private Gemstone nodded eagerly at him. But then: GRRRUUUH!


    Infantry Corporal Steelstasch looked down at Private Gemstone¡¯s belly. Private Gemstone looked down at their own belly. The enby looked back up at him, and grimaced, as their right hand touched the source of the pained sounds. ¡°Corporal, I say this only because it is an unfortunate truth, but it might be slightly difficult to catch up to them, for all of us... on an empty belly.¡±

 Ch. 12: Mr. True Desire; The Ambush

    ¡°HEEEEElllp meeee!¡±


    Another dwarf disappeared over the fort of wagons. This werehare hadn¡¯t even bothered to knock its captive unconscious. Instead, using the sheer raw power of its kicks and punches, the dward had been cast into the ground, hard, roughened up with severe nosebleed, and then, through overpowering strength, simply been picked up under an arm, and ran off with. Within mere seconds, the werebeast had shook its pursuers off, and jumped out of sight.


    Evenin had watched it all. The panick of the soldiers, merchants, and merchant assistants. Their collective inability to effectively respond to this ominous kin who saw no need for weapons, because speed and strength was their weapons, and the armor that dwarves wore, it simply became convenient tools for the efficient knocking out of the latter, or the dodging of their every movements, as bulk of chest armor and shields slowed down reaction times. All in all, this enemy was the ultimate counter.


    Nobody had good news about the dwarven cavalry either. For sure, they were alive, occassionally one heard their galloping hoves outside, but if the cavalry was achieving anything at all, the results sure wasn¡¯t showing. Dread was the mood. Dread, anxiety, and the fear of staying even a single meter away from any other dwarves. Everyone was now trying to stick together. That was Infantry Corporal Steelstasch¡¯s only sure response to this. If everyone stuck close together, the werehares couldn¡¯t abduct them one by one, like had already happened 13 times and with nothing more retaliatory to show for than the smallest of glance cuts to one of the abductors¡¯ shoulders. A single drop of blood, for up to 13 lives. What a trade-off, Evenin reflected from upon her bear.


    ¡°The werehares are retreating!¡± Some dwarf had said it, but everyone had heard it. All eyes without exception were now looking up towards the tops of the various wagons around them. And indeed, of the 8 werehares that¡¯d been spying down on them from above, all were now crawling backwards and disappearing in downward climbing. Each and every one leaving the octagon.


    ¡°What could it mean?¡± one dwarf spoke, echoing the thought on everyone¡¯s mind.


    ¡°It means¡± Infantry Corporal Steelstasch strode into the center of the octagon, ¡°that the enemy is changing tactics.¡±


    ¡°To what?¡± yelled another.


    ¡°Obviously we¡¯ll just have to wait and see.¡± Steelstach retorted. ¡°But everyone who can, please now move your eyes to the outside, and tell us what is happening out there.¡±


    For a few seconds, many dwarves peaked through the cracks between the wagons, or the empty space under them.


    ¡°GOBLINS!¡±


    ¡°Bows? Crossbows? Javelins?¡± asked the corporal.


    ¡°No!¡± shouted the same dwarf back. ¡°They¡¯re massing! Dozens, hundreds of them!¡±


    ¡°Hundreds?¡± Steelstasch let out, then steeled himself. ¡°Hundreds doesn¡¯t matter. If they want to run against our shields let them try. They won¡¯t succeed while our fortifications hold.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not just goblins...¡± it was Private Gemcut speaking. ¡°There is something else, among them. People, humans. In black cloaks, but... no armor. And unarmed?¡±


    ¡°Unarmed humans?¡± Steelstasch raised an eyebrow in confusion. ¡°Why would humans be here...¡± he asked himself that, more than the crowds of dwarves listening. ¡°Describe them for me? Black cloakes, okay ¨C but what else?¡±


    ¡°Well, they got black hoods. And, really white skin. Like, really freakishly white. And I think that¡¯s black hair?¡±


    ¡°White skin...¡± Steelstasch pondered for a second. ¡°VAMPIRES!¡± His eyes suddenly bulged large. ¡°But it¡¯s daylight? How can they fight in the day? Their hoods won¡¯t protect them!¡±


    And just as the dwarf said that, something happened in the sky. Or rather, happened to the sky. In the distance, the sun, still hours from setting, faded away into a dark blood-red cloud, and the world around them came under a great shadow. Nothing cast the shadow, but the sky itself turned from a bright blue, to a dark shade of blue. Clouds formed by creeping into being from everywhere and nowhere. And behind those, stars faded into existence like the early arrival of an army of tiny candlelights. Meanwhile, the moon cast aside whatever had hidden it, because in revealing itself it acted like it¡¯d always been there, hovering over the land like the giant it was. All in all, it wasn¡¯t a full night ¨C it was bright night ¨C lit up by the red cloud of the former sun, and the moon, and the stars. But it was night, nonetheless. An artificial, magical night, but unmistakably night.


    Over from the other side of the wall of wagons, they all heard the roars, the war cries, the shouts of spirited goblins and other creatures; a great enthusiasm of a people who believed their own victory imminent.


    ¡°What kind of an army is this, that can summon the night at a moment¡¯s notice?¡± Who said it few knew, yet nobody cared who¡¯d said it, for it was a damn good question. Thinking of it, a chill went down the backs of more than a few dwarves. And this new worry of theirs was apparent on their faces. In this hour of terror, not even the largest beards could hide the dread.


    ¡°They¡¯re casting aside their hoods¡± Gemcut reported in a shout from a crack between 2 wagons. ¡°And there is one among them. He¡¯s handsome. Like, reeeally, deeply handsome. I think he¡¯s someone special.¡±


    ¡°A vampire lord...¡± Steelstasch mumbled in a voice barely audible to the dwarven crowds, whose ears now had the attention of a continuing and intensifying roar of optimistic goblin cheers and warcries.


    ¡°They¡¯re forming up!¡± Gemcut reported. ¡°They¡¯re making a line! I think we¡¯re about to be attacked!¡±


    Steelstache grimaced with confusion. ¡°How are they planning to get past our wall? They can¡¯t be so stupid as to try and squeeze through it? Or climb over it?¡± Dumbfounded for a second, Steelstasche shook his head. ¡°THEIR FUNERAL!¡± He shouted. ¡°READY EVERYONE! GET YOUR SHIELDS UP AND BE READY TO CUT THE GOBLINS DOWN, and the vampires.¡±


    The sound of dozens of handaxes being unsheated followed, while shields were being picked up and readied. Many had been leaning on their bulky blockers until now, while others had left them against the wagon sides to rest their arms from the heavy weight, but that was no more. Now the dwarves stood as prepared as ever to fight.


    ¡°THEY¡¯RE CHARGING US!¡±


    Steelstache grit his teeth. Behind him, Snowman growled menacingly with Evenin on top, and turned to face the direction where the wave of green and white folk was expected.


    ¡°The vampire and the werehares are leading the charge!¡± Gemcut notified.


    ¡°IF YOU HAVE A SILVER DAGGER, NOW IS THE TIME TO DRAW IT!¡± Steelstasche bellowed the words out for everyone, although he knew only a handful of his soldiers would likely have such a thing. He himself sheathed his handaxe, and drew a steel and silver mixed dagger from his leg. Being a veteran soldier, he probably had the levels to get at least one good stab into a cornered monster like them. Still, the thought of fighting a vampire even made him nervous, as he had actually fought one before, long ago, at the beginnings of this very war.


    ¡°RAAAWR!¡± sounded the other side of the octagon, and Steelstasche could hear the dozens of bare feet and boots getting close, some of them even visible from under the cloth-roofed wagon he¡¯d chosen to face.


    But, as those same feet and boots began to halt in front of said wagon, the most surprising thing happened. The wagon, it started to move. To be precise, it was starting to move up on the one side, tipping the whole thing towards the crowd of waiting dwarves. As the first dwarves began to try and back away, understanding that this was a dangerous thing to be happening, the dwarves clashed into the other dwarves behind them.


    ¡°No!¡± Steelstasche spoke under his stasche. He understood very well what was happening. His soldiers at the front were unwittingly trapped by the ones behind. But as he got ready to bellow out the order for the ones in the back to step away, the tipping wagon was jerked upwards with a sudden extra forceful push from the other side, and the whole thing tipped over, down and onto the horrified dwarves. ¡°No!¡± was all the Infantry Corporal let out instead. Several of his men and women were caught in the crashing wagon and he saw all them forced into the ground, as each one was burried under a weight to heavy to stop individually. Luckily, as the tipped wagon settled against the bodies of the dwarves, most of them fortunately had their arms, heads and torsos sticking out, while many legs and feet were trapped.


    As their dwarven comrades rushed to drop their axes and shields and to pull the unfortunate victims out, a new terrifying sound abruptly came into existence. It was the sound of metal against wood. The sounds of splinting; of chopping. The werehares came into view, now armed with great axes and maces. At the tipped wagon¡¯s 2 long ends, they appeared as their arms cut their way forward in a furry of blows. But the cutting motions were not the most terrifying thing upon going from first just hearing these creatures, to now quickly seeing them, because somehow, those magnificent muscles of theirs had managed to become even greater this time. From the size of brawny tall humans, these hare-like werefolk had grown at least a head taller, and much more than that in the sheer visible mass of their bulged arms. Their axes, great in size even by dwarven standards, weren¡¯t just cutting either, but outright smashed the wagon¡¯s ends to pieces with the simplest effort, clearing the way for their own comrades.


    The first unlucky dwarf to try and impede the raging werehare chopping on the left, got kicked back so powerfully she flew over a meter through the air and into another dwarf, whereupon they both fell towards the ground, one on top of the other, both momentarily incapacitated. The one who¡¯d been kicked, in particular, heaving for air as her lungs had apparently taken a severe blow.


    Before the eyes of the helplessly onlooking dwarves, this first wagon¡¯s endings ceased to exist altogether in just a few dozen seconds. In its place, what became of it was little but the splintered and smashed remains of a wooden construction, with the rubble left behind hurriedly cleared away by a stream of fast-working unarmed goblins.


    Now that the first wagon had 2 openings, a left clearcut path and as well as one to the right, Steelstasche could see through the openings into the outside. And what he saw there, were 2 werehares and 3 vampires move over to the next adjacent wagon. While behind those, crowds upon crowds of standing, waiting and cheering goblins were revealed.


    ¡°They¡¯re bringing down the fort...¡± Steelstasche was at a loss for further words, as he gaped at what was happening.


    On the next wagon the werehares and vampires surprised everyone again as they now, instead of tipping the wagon against the dwarves, began to lift the wagon and drag it away, with the octagon-facing wheels scraping the dirt ground beneath them.


    ¡°GRAB THAT WAGON!¡± Steelstasche shouted in order. ¡°PULL IT BACK!¡± Several dwarves were quick enough to react. Dropping their shields and handaxes, they ran to the wagon on their side, and began grabbing it and pulling it towards them, initating a pulling contest with monstrously strong werehares and vampires on the one side, and 8 dwarven privates on the other, with the privates leveraging the friction of the scraping heavy wheels to their advantage.


    At first this counter-measure seemed to be working, as the wagon, which¡¯d been pulled away just 10 or 15 centimeters, ground to a halt. But then came a growely voice. ¡°Haaa ha, they think they can hold us back? Let¡¯s show them what they¡¯re up against!¡± And the wagon moved, 8 dwarves in tow. 8 more dwarves dropped and sheathed their gear and ran over, pulling either at the wagon whereever they could find grip, or pulling at their friends holding the wagon. ¡°Huh? Did this thing become even heavier? WHAT A CHALLENGE!¡± The wagon ground to a halt once more, but only for a few seconds. Then a ¡°huueeegh!¡± noise from the other side, along with a snarling ¡°wraaaeeeh!¡± set the wagon in motion again, and not even 4 more dwarves coming to pull could keep the wagon in place.


    ¡°ABANDON THE WAGON!¡± Steelstasche ordered. ¡°GET YOUR GEAR INSTEAD, AND PREPARE FOR ONSLAUGHT!¡± That¡¯d been a losing effort, and the infantry corporal had recognized it. Putting 20 dwarves to delaying a losing game while they all went unarmed was foolish. They couldn¡¯t stop the octagon from disassembly, they could only prepare for holding whatever remained of it, that was the hard truth of it.


    Now that they were unhindered, the werehares and vampires decided not to relocate the whole wagon anymore, but adapted and rather focused on lifting one end of it and rotating the whole thing with the other end as the anchor, until there was a wide gap into the octagon. A gap that was lined up with line upon line of bulky shields, carried by dwarves with handaxes.


    Against these dwarves, though, 10 werehares stood, 2 of them monstrous in both size and muscle, while the others were merely big and terrifying for the overpowering strength their kin had shown during the series of dwarf abductions. Beside the werehares were not 3, but 5 vampires altogether, and behind those, a hundred goblins at the least, with what looked to be more vampires and more werehares in their mix.


    ¡°GET READY TO BE BEAT THE VILLAINS DOWN!¡± The Infantry Corporal shouted for the sake of everyone¡¯s shaking hearts. ¡°THIS IS OUR VICTORY, AND WE WILL PROVE IT TO THEM! WITH AXES, WITH SHIELDS, WITH UNBEATABLE DWARVEN STEEL!¡±


    In the midst of the assembled vampires, one of the handsomest beings Evenin had ever seen, smiled at them. Besides a white deadish face, which could¡¯ve been disturbing in any other setting but here really wasn¡¯t, this man wore a dashing set of red leather armor, in places revealing a white shirt underneath, whose neck and hands were laced with the most wonderful patterns. His lips were red too, with his fangs showing, and those eyes of his, ¡°such amazing hypnotizing yellow¡±. Not even noticing she¡¯d mumbled it until she heard the end of her own sentence, Evenin caught herself by surprise. Damn, what charisma does this vampire have to affect even me? Half-long raven-black hair fell down on either side of the vampire¡¯s face, and overall, he gave off this mix of simultaneous cuteness, like as if he was utterly harmless to the core, while also exuding that unbearable handsomeness, making one think, or wish, or at least wanting to imagine, that this man right here, was the most dependable and strong individual alive. The only one worthy of true desire.


    Mr. True Desire took 3 small steps forward. Smiling, and with such a mesmerizing smile, he looked at the lines of assembled dwarves, and spoke but 4 words. ¡°Loves.¡± Oh, what a sweet voice! Evenin internally melted, as the vampire referenced everyone before him, though each heart felt it like an individual, personal message. ¡°Drop your gear.¡±


    Without as much as a word of protest, over half the dwarves lined up, and all of the ones in first row, dropped their shields, handaxes, and daggers.


    Mr. True Desire, or whatever was his real name, turned his back on his entranced audience and stepped next to one of the monstrously huge werehares, whereupon he turned to the werebeast, looking up. ¡°It is done, Knitter. You can break them now.¡± Never before, Evenin thought, had such a cruel sentence been spoken in such a dreamy voice, and most of the dwarves didn¡¯t even comprehend a bit of what¡¯d been said before Knitter, the werehare, displayed his front teeth in a most gruesome smile, and then, to almost everyone¡¯s surprise: charged.


    ¡°PICK UP YOUR WEAPONS YOU BLOODY FOOLS!¡± Infantry Corporal Steelstasche had not gone unaffected by the hypnotic performance, but it¡¯d taken him less than 2 seconds to snap out of it, and now he was simultaneously trying desperately to salvage the situation, while internally brimming with the fury of someone who¡¯d been tricked. His last vampire nearly 90 years ago had never been so convincing, this one must¡¯ve been many levels above what he¡¯d faced before. But he¡¯d survived once, when he was much lower level. And now that he was much higher level, he would survive a much higher level¡¯d opponent as well.


    The commanding voice snapped most of the dwarves out of their bewitchment, but scrambling to pick up their own gear didn¡¯t help everyone as several of them were simply too slow to react, and the monstrous werehares, as well as the other werehares, and the 4 other vampires, charged into the front line with a smashing and overwhelming strength. The brutal assault sent a wave of shock through the spines of more than a few present dwarves, and in every heart present, a deep traumatizing insecurity planted itself.


    ¡°CUT THAT MONSTER DOWN!¡± The Infantry Corporal shouted at the top of his lungs. ¡°SLAY THE WEREBEAST!¡±


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    And axes swung, and daggers lunged, but the might of the monster werehares was truly overpowering, to say the very least. For they flung dwarves around with the strength and speed of their arms, and kicked so hard they instantly broke their victims bodies, sending those behind into the ground as well as said bodies smashed into them.


    In less than a minute, the dwarves had been pushed nearly 2 metres back. Several lay dead, and the frontline had widened significantly. The smashing and thrashing of the werebeasts, all 10 of them, was utterly effective. And beside them, the vampires, none as handsome nor endearing as Mr. True Desire, still managed to entrance individual dwarves into lowering their weapons and dropping their shields, before throwing themselves at the dwarves¡¯ throats, ripping up huge bloodstreams, and colouring their own faces with the spewing forth of red.


    Of all these vampires though, 1 did was not like the rest. It instead went for showing the dwarves that vampires weren¡¯t just good for their charms. From its belt, it had pulled forth a rapier, and was currently cutting and stabbing into every single exposed surface it could find among the dwarves¡¯ thick and generous armor. Thrusting, side-stepping, retreating, and thrusting anew, the sword-flinging motions of this undead man were too fast for the metal-suited kin to keep up with. In one instance, a white-bearded dwarf tried heroically to counter-attack him ¨C the vampire ¨C and for a second said dwarf achieved making the undead take a single step back. But then, as the dwarf continued its swinging, the incoming axeblade was deflected in such an effortless, graceful flick of the rapier, that the spectators were stunned for half a second. Yet the stun quickly turned into a terror-inspiring awe, as the vampire closed the distance in the same motion and there, reaching out with its hands, slashed the soldier¡¯s lower neck open ¨C showing that it too was not dependent on its rapier, but merely use it as an extending tool.


    The injured dwarf dropped his handaxe to grab at his own wounds, and the vampire resumed its momentum with a flurry of blows that in 4 shield-blocked strikes had the 5th pierce the same dwarf¡¯s shoulder. ¡°AAAAAAAH!¡± came the pained screamed, however, the voice that produced this scream was neither uncontrollable nor born of despair. No, the sound that came out was a deep one, a defiant one, an angry one. An angry scream of pain, that did not care that his own beard had just gone a white to a crimson, soiled by the vaning of his life, nor did it much care about the fact that his other arm could barely hold onto the heavy shield as blood spurted from his neck. This dwarf was defiant to stand his ground, defiant to defend on even as it had lost.


    From the sides, a nearby dwarf woman charged in with her shield and dagger to save her comrade, and the vampire stroke once against her blocking shield, before stabbing her unprotected eye in the 2nd. A severe difference in levels had made her no match at all. The rapier-wielding vampire, turning back to the injured dwarf, thrust forward again, letting the injured dwarf block his strikes twice, before finding another unprotected eye in the heroic white-bearded dwarf. And thus this brief hero fell, for no amount of defiance could overcome a stab so deep it penetrated the very brain.


    ¡°FEAR ME, KIN OF THE MOUNTAINS!¡± The vampire¡¯s challenged his audience with a perverse bloodthirsty edge to his shout. ¡°FEAR ME, AND DIE NEXT!¡±


    But then, as this terror-inspiring speech had finished, something came from above. As the vampire stood there, menacing, triumphant at the dead and dying dwarves around him, a small dwarven shape fell towards him, a glinting silvery dagger stretched out in both hands. The vampire, fast as he was, did not immediately notice Gemcut, who had climbed upon the nearby wagon, and sprinted over into a jump and a plunge towards him, this creature of the night. As the new figure came into view in the vampire¡¯s side-vision though, the undead man tried immediately to back away. However, he managed but a single step before Gemcut¡¯s blade slashed through his attire, ripping open a set of leather armor, and releasing a stream of blood sparkling under the effects of silver. For silver ignited and boiled the blood of vampires, and so here, before every nearby dwarf¡¯s eyes, this vampire was burnt open along his very vertical mid.


    Gemcut did not land gracefully, but hard on their feet, stumbling forwards into the vampire, and knocking the latter back into the ground, with Gemcut prone at his legs. ¡°YAAAH!¡± screamed the night-creature, as the enby pushed themselves up with effort. The scream of their ally briefly attracted many of the eyes of werehares and vampires present, but one of them in particular ceased its engagement with the line of dwarves elsewhere, and faced towards the rising enby. Rather lucky for Gemcut, 3 other dwarven soldiers saw the danger that this werehare posed, and rushed over with their shields. As suuch, when the werehare took its first 2 steps forward to strike in retaliation at the vulnerable dwarf who¡¯d just hurt its ally, it found the path blocked by 3 bulky pieces of hard metal. With a dagger and 2 handaxes also, ready to cut at it.


    ¡°Yes!¡± breathed Steelstasche at the back of it all, a moment of smiling triumphantness overcoming his normally disciplined facial expression. ¡°1 VAMPIRE DOWN!¡± he shouted. ¡°3 MORE TO GO! NOW WE KNOW THEIR TRICKS, SOLDIERS! NOW WE WON¡¯T BE FOOLED AGAIN! HOLD THE LINE! SLAY THEM IN THEIR USELESS ADVANCE!¡±


    As one dwarf was flung over the first lines of dwarves, and into the lines at the back, a growled response came from one of the monstrous werehares. ¡°IT¡¯S NOT USELESS!¡± The same werehare proceeded to kick another dwarf¡¯s shield, breaking the face of another dwarf in another bloody mess. ¡°I¡¯LL PROVE IT TO YOU, PUNY DWARF!¡± The werehare turned back to face the small green army assembled at its rear. ¡°PREPARE TO CHARGE WHEN I SAY SO!¡± Long ears flung around as it snapped back to the lines of dwarven defenders, and it itself charged forward, grabbing the first dwarf in sight and knocking it senseless by banging its shield against its own helmet. Taking the shield from the heavily concussed dwarf, it proceeded to use the shield like a weapon in itself, holding it by the sides at one end, and swinging it and banging it against the dwarves in front of it. Heavy as the shield was, the enormous strength of the werehare turned the shield¡¯s momentum into a crushing motion. Every dwarven head that got hit by it, was whacked instantly bloody in the crashing collision, and every dwarf that tried to protect their heads against this shield with their own shields, were instead faced with a massive werehare foot kicking the top of their shields into their faces. It seemed then, that a dwarf carrying a shield could choose either not to protect themselves, and thus be bludgeoned into the ground by the werehare¡¯s stolen shield, or choose another option, to raise their shields in protection, only for something similarly bloody to occur to them via their own shields. In either case, here and at this moment, every shield had gone from a protective measure to an immediate hazard in the hands of a dwarven soldier.


    The werehare banged and kicked dwarves left and right in such a fury and immense show of the strength and speed there was soon a wedge forming at the very center of the line. Meanwhile, behind these champions of the enemy, Evenin The Envoy, and Infantry Corporal Steelstasche, both saw a range of goblins step forward to the front. Each goblin bore oversized pieces of metal and leather, from a steel helmet to steel breastplates, and something of an oversized sword carried horizontally with both hands, as if it ws too heavy to properly wield. It was indeed an odd sight, as the goblins formed something of a line of their own. They were 4 men and 3 women it seemed, every one of them beautiful, and young but definitely adults, and they were fitter, stronger-looking than most goblins Evenin had ever seen. Their faces though, each of them had this stoic expression, as if neither enthusiastic about their role, nor the least bothered by it. An unarmed 8th goblin was walking towards them from the side carrying a basket. On his chest, Evenin from her higher position on Snowman, and with her keen eyesight, could see the markings of a great sausage, covering him from one side of the torso to the other, and tattooed as if dripping with something. It was faint, really faint, but she was sure she could also tell it was glowing. Definitely magical, she thought, is this a Tumi goblin Promise, then? When the suspected Promise got to the first goblin of the 7, and reached into the basket to fetch out a strange greenish-looking sausage, handing it to the goblin warrior, she did not understand what was going on at all at first, but as the goblin chewed and chewed, and then swallowed, and suddenly started to grow, then apparently, Corporal Steelstasche beside her recognized exactly what was happening.


    ¡°BY THE GODS! That must be The Promise of Sausage! And THAT is POWER FOOD!¡± Steelstache near twirled around on his position to look about in the octagon, eyes searching for something. ¡°You! And you! And all 3 of you! Aim your crossbows at the goblin with the basket! Kill him before the enemy grows any stronger! AT ALL COSTS, DO NOT let him feed them sausages!¡± The dwarves in question rushed to find new good vantage points for firing their weapons. Turning back to look at the strained front line, the commanding corporal commented in a voice quiet enough for only Evenin and a few nearby to hear. ¡°It all makes so much sense now, those big werehares aren¡¯t normal. They have mostly likely been eating those sausages. Power food turns a regular soldier to a minor champion, and a minor champion to a great champion, and the effects lasts long enough for a whole battle to finish. We must limit their access to sausages, each sausage might as well double the effective levels in terms of strength, agility, and constitution. But power food is supposed to be really difficult to make though, and to the Tumis this is a treasured boost, so how many sausages have they dared to deploy here?¡±


    By the time the first crossbow bolt fired at The Promise of Sausage, the latter was handing out the sausage for the 7th and final goblin of this line of armored goblins. And it was become clear now why their armor had been so oversized. The goblins, Evenin thought, oh my, they came well prepared. What terrifying resourcefulness. And as that thought ended, so did the flight of the bolt speeding for Promise Sausage, as the goblin man turned around just in time to see the little steel-tipped piece of wood coming for his neck. With incredible speed and precision of his own, the war chef grabbed the bolt in mid air, stopping it a mere centimeter from his skin. Looking down at it with dismay, the Promise threw the thing away, and grabbed into his basket, holding up 3 sausages. He shouted something at the gathered hoard of goblins and werehares. They all cheered back at him, and started jumping up and down displaying wild enthusiasm. Next then, and to every dwarf¡¯s surprise, the war chef threw the power sausages into the crowd. To some it may had looked to be something of an indescriminate throw, that¡¯s what it looked like to Evenin at least, while Steelstasche didn¡¯t really see much at all of the details of what was happening so far away. But to others that would¡¯ve seen that far, they may¡¯ve noticed that the war chef had thrown the sausages towards those couple of goblins as well as a werehare who¡¯d been among the ones to jump the highest, for these were the ones who also snatched the food from the air with their mere mouths, proving in the act their own incredible agility ¨C an agility that was just about to become radically buffed.


    Behind the frontlines, a few dwarves there gaped with their mouths open at the growing and bulging werehares and at Promise Sausage, who was now shouting to the crowds again. In return, the war chef was receiving another cheers of enthusiasm from the goblins, with the werehares producing the most horrifying squeaking sounds as if trying to howl but forgetting that they weren¡¯t werewolves but in fact werehares. The vampires appeared to speak with approval as well and raised their fists, though overall their enthusiasm was much restrained. And then with crowd cheering, once again, the war chef threw sausage after sausage into the crowd. This time not stopping with 3, but continuing towards 4, no 6, no 10, no 11 sausages, before seemingly running out.


    Meanwhile, the Promise danced out of the way of bolts coming after him, or sometimes picked them out from the air as before. Impervious, he seemed to mock the attacks aimed at him with insults only heard by the closest dwarves on the frontline, who had bigger things to think about than an insult-spouting goblin. The stray bolts passing by the war chef¡¯s dodging form, meanwhile, were blocked by goblins with shields in the hoard. With the exception at one point, when one bolt managed to land at the shoulder of an ordinary unarmored goblin soldier. However seeing this injurity, the Promise grabbed for his basket again, throwing out a red sausage this time. It was promptly caught by the grimacing and hurting goblin, who started chewing it immediately. And like magic, or rather with the exact effect of a strange and mystical magic, this sausage managed to squeeze the bolt out of the arm, and close the wound. The goblins around, watching the miracle of food magic occur, cheered triple at what they were seeing. The few dwarves who had the opportunity to watch the affair from afar though, were stunned to see the healing powers of the war chef¡¯s red sausage, at the very least Evenin recognized the potency of such a magic item, which was comparable to some of the highest grade healing potions she knew of. When the wound had properly closed, the subsequent noisy actions by the goblins didn¡¯t require a genius to interpret, for they were obviously mocking the ineffectiveness of the dwarves¡¯ projectiles.


    ¡°NOW!¡± shouted one of the monstrous werehares. And suddenly every goblin, werehare, and vampire remembered what this same werehare had just recently told them. A deep wedge had been carved into the dwarven frontline, and so battered and broken were the dwarves that remained, that a full breakthrough of the lines was imminent, even as a number of dwarves ran in to reinforce.


    A warcry so loud and so terrifying ¨C especially that raging squeaky voice of the werehares ¨C rang out towards the battlefield, and the hoard of goblins, werehares, and vampires, with the 7 armored goblin champions at the front, charged towards the dwarven frontline.


    ¡°HOLD THE LINE! DO NOT WAIVER, NOT FOR A SECOND!¡± shouted Steelstasche with strong commanding firmness. ¡°THERE IS NOWHERE TO RUN, YOU EITHER STAND AND PROTECT YOUR FELLOW DWARVES, OR YOU DIE IN SHAME ¨C SHOW THE ENEMY DWARVEN STEEL! SHOW THE ENEMY DWARVEN RESOLVE! SHOW THEM AN UNBREAKABLE WALL OF SHIELDS!¡±


    For a moment, the dwarven lines, bolstered by Steelstasche¡¯s words, managed to defy all expectations and push back at the enemy. The commanding werehare experienced a silver dagger slash to its left shoulder, and a handaxe plunged into its right hindleg. Unlike the vampire, a werebeast¡¯s blood didn¡¯t boil or flare up at silver, but reacted catalytically to produce a toxic substance that slowly poisoned the werebeast¡¯s body while delivering increasing levels of pain. This particular werehare¡¯s wound were not big enough to be deadly on its own though. However, the rapid metabolism of the monster¡¯s body worked against it to speed up the spread of what little toxicity had been inflicted, setting this werehare on a path of rapidly descending strength, dexterity, and constitution from then on. Although the effects would not be visible for a while at least, that much Steelstasche knew even as he shouted a ¡°YES!¡± and fist-bumped the air, seeing his soldiers strike successfully at the beast.


    Overall the dwarves consolidated rapidly, and managed to recapture from between half a meter to a meter across the whole line even before the first armored goblin, with its monstrously boosted stats, dove headon into the line of dwarves with its sword. For certain, the first seconds of the wave of enemies clashing against the dwarven shields was ineffective in breaking this renewed dwarven resolve to stand their ground. As the first 3 minutes passed though, the dwarves lost about half a meter of ground again, but as reinforcements arrived and the wounded were extricated safely to a corner of the octagon where healing potions brought soldiers back to combat-readiness, this rush of the greenfolk, with their werehare and vampire allies, was ultimately stopped for the time being. At least when it came to any advancements.


    However, as dwarven self-esteem returned, and the first goblins causalties began to form at the front, raising the morale of the battered and tired dwarves, the worst of nightmares would come to pass.


    The battle between the center octagon of Evenin and Infantry Corporal Steelstasche¡¯s soldiers, was happening against the goblins situated at right side of the road. Keeping this mighty force at bay was a stressing and straining matter, which¡¯d drawn many eyes away from the rest of the octagon, with many dwarves leaving their previous positions to come and help. Now however, 8 werehares climbed atop the wagons pointing in the direction of the left side of the road, and they all went completely unnoticed in doing so, until a single dwarf screamed in surprised fright sending heads turning in rapid succession. Only then did the dwarves of the middle octagonal fort notice, that in fact were being attacked from behind. The 8 werehares were the exact same ones that¡¯d been abducting dwarves before, and this did not go unnoticed by any of those who now had the chance to get a good look at them. As much of the octagon had up until this point become increasingly sparsely covered with dwarves, these 8 who had previously so expertly captured dwarves, now had akin to a completely free reign to grab new victims ¨C and the first that they went for, were the 9 total dwarves present with crossbows. In a rush they jumped down, sped quickly forward, amd knocked into the ground over a dozen dwarves as they ran for their targets. Reaching the crossbow-wielding dwarves they found their easiest prey yet, too, as they easily beat up each and every one of them and picked them up as they fell, faces bloodied. And yes, each of the 9, for the bulkiest of these werehares took the liberty to knock 2 crossbowyers unconscious, before picking up one under each arm, and running off with both.


    ¡°Nooo...¡± Infantry Corporal Steelstasche let out in a quiet voice, unable to help himself, as the shock over this new and catastrophic turn of events became too great to initially process. Losing every single one of their crossbowyers could hardly have been more devastating in his mind, for this meant they had absolutely nothing to strike the enemy with at range. Of course, they could throw their handaxes at the enemy, but that would also mean disarming themselves, and little was riskier than to hope to land a critical enough blow with a thrown weapon, and to also think one could at the same time afford to stay unarmed until a new weapon could be acquired. Stunned for a handful of seconds, the Infantry Corporal realized that he had to act on this development, and to act fast, before the abduction crew returned. ¡°EVERYONE NOT AT THE FRONTLINE, HUDDLE TOGETHER IN DEFENSIVE FORMATIONS! DO NOT STAY MORE THAN 1 METER AWAY FROM ANY OTHER DWARF, AND KEEP WITHIN GROUPS OF AT LEAST 20 DWARVES! YES ¨C 20! ANYTHING LESS AND YOU¡¯LL BE BEATEN AND GRABBED FOR SURE!¡±


    The dwarves, soldiers, merchants and merchant assistants alike, rushed to form the suggested groups. The Infantry Corporal waved over a few dwarves to his own side, and him and Evenin formed a large tight group of their own. But this was not the only development to occur within this time.


    ¡°INFANTRY CORPORAL!¡± Evenin shouted at Steelstasche, and she pointed to the right-most little open space that¡¯d been created when the 2 werehares had first chopped and smashed together the sides of the tipped over wagon. This space was disconnected from the ongoing battle, but a few dwarves had been stationed there to guard it. However, as the man with the steel-moustache looked over at the few stationed dwarves, he quickly realized they had all dropped their shields and axes, and that the powerful vampire from before, that Mr. True Desire ¨C although Steelstasche didn¡¯t think of him as such ¨C that vampire was standing there in their midst, blood-covered and with 3 dwarves at his feet. The others, meanwhile, had just escaped their trance and were each scrambling to pick up their gear as the Corporal lay his eyes upon this horrific scene of his utterly broken flank. Eyes bulging at the event, the veteran soldier inside Steelstasche didn¡¯t think, neither did he wait to consider the scene with any degree of rational or calculating thought. Instead; instead of waiting to delegate out some order to reinforce, yes instead of that, something else entirely happened to Steelstache deep, deep within. Something primal, or instinctive perhaps, a rare moment of impulsivity. Because over the course of the next 2 seconds, the man with the steel moustasche broke out in a cry of utter fury. Swiftly picking up his shield and with the silver dagger in hand, he charged towards this powerful being of the night. At first, his cry was one of pure screaming anger, then next, perhaps remembering himself, the dwarf corporal shouted an order. ¡°SLAY THE VAMPIRE! SLAY HIM, SLAAAY HIIIM!¡± Then another warcry followed, a loud deeper angrier scream, and the greybearded elderly warrior rapidly closed in on this mighty white creature, who had just slain his comrades.


    However, Mr. True Desire did not waiver at the foot soldier charging at him. Neither was he much bothered by the crowd of dwarves who hurried to follow suit. He did not smile, nor did he grimace, nor did he show any emotion whatsoever. The powerful vampire simply lifted a finger at the charging dwarf, and spoke 3 simple words, a brief elegant pause between each. ¡°Drop... your... weapons.¡±

 Ch. 13: The Great Curse; The Ambush

    Steelstache stumbled and fell to a knee, but to the credit of his name, did not lose his weapons. Rather, pausing to grit his teeth for a second, the veteran warrior leapt right up, screamed a red-faced ¡°AAAAAARH!¡±, and charged head-on at the vampire, who for the first time in this battle grimaced, a mild annoyance appearing on his handsome, his lips and cheeks twisted in displeasure.


    ¡°You¡¯ve faced my kin before, haven¡¯t you dwarf?¡± As Steelstasch closed in, the cloaked, red armored vampire smooth-stepped right out of the way; a dodge of the dwarf¡¯s barbaric furry so elegant in its footwork as to amount to a moment of dance. At least that was what any passive onlookers would¡¯ve experienced it as. To Steelstasche though, his own moment of confused air-slashing just made him angrier, as he turned around to glare. Internally, this injustice in failing to hurt perceived evil only made him more spiteful, more determined to slay. Not waiting to ponder his mistake, the dwarf leapt into a sprint towards the vampire who¡¯d only moved about 2 metres. Surprisingly, the vampire did not see it necessary to flee the raging warrior. Mr. True Desire had this utter calm expression of superiority on his face. Again, he side-stepped the dwarf without issue, the new slashing motion only managing to cut the air. However, the dwarf saw the dodge coming, and if this master vampire was quick on his feet, so too could Steelstasche be quick with reactions. As a veteran warrior, reaction-time is the number 1 skill for surving to an old age. And so, as the silver-coated blade struck nothing, it was simultaneously withdrawn again and turned into another cutting motion at the vampire¡¯s new location. But the vampire noticed this next motion also, and side-stepped once again. However, like a game of intelligence at work, the noticing vampire was both noticed and predicted by the corporal, who followed up with yet another 3rd swing of his dagger. When this too was dodged though, both the vampire and the dwarf drew each other into this continuous sequence of alternating motions. Of of the vampire twisting and turning and side-stepping, and the dwarf cutting and stabbing and cutting again. Soon, the 2 had entered a discordant dance of sorts, where the will of the persistent warrior¡¯s rage, battled the smooth withholden attitude of the undead in his prime. It was the dead seriousness of a veteran dwarf, matched against the modesty and playfulness of a master vampire.


    ¡°DIE!¡± Steelstasche yelled, after the first tired breath escaped his mouth, and he for the first time paused to briefly rest his tiring right arm. At this point around the vampire, some 20 dwarves had started to arrive, and were also actively trying to surround that undying man of darkness.


    Glancing over at the dwarf¡¯s heavy breathing, the vampire replied with but a singular word: ¡°No.¡± The reply was calm, clear, succint. Like an overwhelmingly powerful individual, taking pity on the futility of the weak. But it might¡¯ve all been for show, for a breathing dwarf was not a defeated dwarf, and if the vampire hadn¡¯t fled, neither had it dared to actually commit to an attack against its opponent ¨C yet.


    FWOOOH! the swift motion of the vampire¡¯s arm created a wind flapping sound from his shirt, as his fingers sliced open the throat of a dwarf soldier who¡¯d stepped just a little too close. Stumbling backwards, the victim of the attack took several seconds to realize his beard was being soaked by the running blood of his own neck.


    ¡°AAAAARH!¡± Steelstasche screamed, and again charged at the vampire. Dwarf and vampire danced once more, however this time, their dance was not alone. Angry dwarven comrades joined the battle, but the vampire slashed their exposed hands, arms, and faces, tripped over their feet, and in 1 instance grabbed a dwarf¡¯s outstretched arm only to apply a massive blow to it from behind, breaking the bone in an instant and then kicking the crying man into the forward advancing corporal.


    Finally, having maneuvered out of the attempted encirclement, the vampire turned around to face all the dwarves chasing him. Reaching out with an arm towards them, he opened his hands to a flat opposed surface, gesture to stop. ¡°Drop... your... weapons.¡± Again, everyone but Steelstasche and a couple of other higher level dwarves fell to the magic. Yet the corporal was not completely unaffected, as his own vergent new charge was cancelled with the flow of magic shattering against his cliff of a willpower. He quickly brought himself back together though. Although it took a moment, as his own feelings and his own thoughts forcibly resurfaced to block out the mental suggestion. In that momentary pause of the battle the vampire spoke again, and what he said then, unsettled each and every one not caught in the mass hypnosis. ¡°Kill these nuisances.¡± The chilling part wasn¡¯t the words, but who they were addressed to. For the red armored being hadn¡¯t looked at them, not at the dwarves, but rather behind them. Steelstasche turned to look himself, and it was then that he realized the octagon had more than just experienced a broken flanken. Goblins, as well as a few werehares and vampires, filled at least half the octagon, a constant but slow flood of them pressing themselves inside to fill the remainder of the fort, and to turn the battle to a crushing tipping point. In short, their fortifications had been fully penetrated. Some of the goblins were those big champions currently swinging their heavy weapons down upon dwarves who struggled against the mighty blows with their shields raised. Each one of these dwarves caught in a near hopeless perpetually defensive formation. Elsewhere, smaller goblins were duelling 2 on 1 against dwarves, armored soldier dwarves and unarmored but armed civilians alike. A large group of them in particular though, maybe 30 or more, stood just behind Infantry Corporal Steelstasche¡¯s group, seemingly waiting for this exact order. As the vampire¡¯s order came, these goblins started to approach the 21 mostly hypnotized and unarmed dwarves, who now experienced a complete turn of tables, as the goblins half-surrounded them with the powerful vampire blocking the opposing side.


    ¡°SOOOLDIERS! PICK UP YOUR DARN WEAPONS!¡± Hearing the command and seeing a few of the dwarves react, the goblins picked up speed and charged at the vulnerable dwarves. But Steelstasche ran in front and quickly slew the most eager goblins, and smashing a werehare with his shield into the ground. Seeing thisdeadly dwarf at the front made several of the assembled goblins cease their sprint and hesitate. And hesitance was all Steelstasche needed, just long enough for a few more of the dwarves to come to their senses, and to start forming a defensive line. Meanwhile, the goblin-led charge slowed down entirely, down to a creeping, careful approach. With a last few kicks of their fellow comrades to get them out of their stupor, this was enough that the dwarves all managed to collect their weapons again before a butchering of dwarves would¡¯ve unfolded. Breathing with adrenaline, Steelstasche took the moment of the 2 large groups confronting each other to deliver a final order. ¡°Engage the goblins soldiers. I will handle the vampire lord ¨C by myself.¡± He turned, and parted through the line to face the original enemy.


    ¡°You finally recognized my lordship?¡± The vampire raised an eyebrow, as if Steelstasche had been some kind of fool all this time.


    ¡°Obviously you¡¯re a lord. No ordinary vampire possess such agility.¡± With an aggressive bite of his own teeth, Steelstasche took another series of steps to stand fully alone against this being of the night, with all his own warriors¡¯ backs several steps behind him, their eyes and feet aimed in the opposite direction, facing goblins with their own brewings of dwarven anger. ¡°But tell me, blood-sucker, I¡¯m not so familiar as to identify each of you by person. So which one of these 3 treasonous vampire lords of Olam, are you?¡±


    ¡°Treasonous? I¡¯ve never betrayed anyone.¡± The red armored being shook his head, still quite calm. ¡°You cannot betray those you¡¯ve never held allegiance to, dwarf. Also, my name is Lord Smooch.¡± He bowed slightly, his politeness as sincere as could be expected of an enemy. ¡°Since you¡¯ve survived so far, I might courtesy you equally and ask you your name.¡±


    ¡°Steelstasche. Infantry Corporal. Although a murderer like you doesn¡¯t truly deserve to know it.¡±


    Again, Lord Smooch raised an eyebrow. ¡°You are soldiers in occupied lands. You can¡¯t be murdered ¨C only defeated, only driven out. Ermos¡¯ Finest Adventurers has turned my castle into their base of operations in Olam. You cry over dead dwarves, yet your allies steals the homes of me and my people? And the one you escort, is the most responsible of all in this.¡±


    ¡°ENOUGH!¡± Stealstasche barked, and then once more, filled with anger, defiance, vengeance, all of it, the leader of all the dwarves present, screamed. ¡°AAAARGH!¡± He charged at Lord Smooch.


    Meanwhile over at the middle of the octagon, at what was rapidly developing to become the center of the battlefield, Evenin of Redratall sat anxiously on Snowman, the bear¡¯s white and black snout having become soaked in red blood. Around the great bear lay 4 fallen goblins, as well as 1 of the furry and crazy-eyed werehares. After utterly demolishing these opponents, and flinging several others meters away with torn off pieces of flesh and hard landings, the duo of dwarf woman and bear had recently been left alone there at the center of the octagon. Occassionally, a scared or wounded dwarf would run up to duo with goblins chasing them at their heels. However, when the enemy followed the dwarves to the growling red-sprayed face of Snowman, the same goblins seemed to always lose the momentum of their feet, and divert themselves to new targets. The deterrent presence of Snowman developed into something a safe space for many of the dwarves as the battle progressed, with many running to them for a short moment of protection, except for the most wounded of the dwarves, who sometimes collapsed there altogether, caught in some slow recovery, or even a very slow dying. Of course there was something shameful over it all ¨C they were there to protect her after all, but Evenin forgave them all implicity. She knew the strength of Snowman after years of having him by her side, and she embraced her role as the protector of her weakened friends, a protecting island at midst of this unfolding sea of bloodshed.


    A dwarf with a heavily bleeding left side of the head stumbled over to Evenin¡¯s safe zone. He was holding himself where his left ear should¡¯ve been with a shieldless left arm. He had apparently been able to hold onto his handaxe though, for his weapon of attack was firmly in his right. As he arrived at Snowman, the dwarf nearly collapsed forward. However, his axe-holding hand landed on the bear¡¯s furry butt, and as such he leaned the rest of himself against the soft safe creature. Unfortunately for Evenin and the bear though, the axe blade¡¯s blood and dirt became smeared against the fur. Also, the dwarf was sweaty, panting, shuddering, and spitting blood. His own eyes didn¡¯t meet hers as Evenin looked down at him, but rather stared into the ground, waves of shudderings rippling throughout his body. To the envoy, the dwarf didn¡¯t appear directly frightened, not even as his body shook, instead the man growled out his pain, and the shuddering was clearly some kind of uncontrollable physical reaction from the physical trauma. Poor man, she thought, and mourned the lack of any healing potions to give him. Emphatizing over this pained man however, her own ears notified her that something was going on in the crowds about them ¨C in the spread out crowds of goblins to be precise.


    ¡°For sausage!¡± The shout was distant and faint, yet obviously came from near the octagon, or even from inside it. As Evenin came to attention at the sound, it repeated itself, but this time louder, and closer. ¡°FOR SAUSAGE!¡± cried an unknown goblin, and suddenly a wave of other goblins cried out with the first. ¡°FOR SAUSAGE-FOR SAUSAGE-FOR SAUSAGE!¡± She looked about herself, struck by the enthusiasm of her enemy.


    Below her the dwarf with the head-trauma spit out a bit of blood, before daring to bend up a little, and glance around. Then another cry rang out. A cry of a different, yet similar sentence. ¡°FOR PIIIE!¡± Soon this was followed by another ¡°FOR PIIIE!¡± And suddenly nearly all of the remaining goblins cried out, like the rapidly spreading epicenter of a soundwave. ¡°FOOOR PIIIIE! FOR PIE! PIE-PIE-PIE! FOOOOOR PIIIIIE!¡±¡±


    The dwarf missing a left ear, raised his head up most of the way, but tilted just little to side, with right ear up. He looked around himself, casting eyes to the many different cheering goblins of the battlefield, his face a mix between pain and confusion. ¡°Did they just shout ¡®For Pie!¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes they did¡± Evenin confirmed, and nodded.


    The soldier glanced up at her. ¡°When did goblins become so enthusiastic about math?¡±


    Evenin met his glance with a raised eyebrow. ¡°I think they¡¯re referring rather to the doughy kind.¡±


    The dwarf gaped up at her. ¡°Huh, the doughy kind? Why?¡±


    He took a little step closer to where Evenin sat, he aimed in to listen with his functioning ear. A sign she interpreted as a desire for elaboration. ¡°It¡¯s the way of the Tumis. Their culture fetishize food, and create factions or kitchens as they call it, over favourite dishes. Each faction is lead by a goblin who is both mage and chef. Since they¡¯ve chanted 2 dishes, this means there are at least 2 factions ¨C 2 chefs of war present among us.¡±


    ¡°FOR PIIIIEEEE!¡± the cry came again, however, this time it wasn¡¯t the cry of everyone, but the cry of a few especially enthusiastic goblins. As Evenin looked around to find them, she spotted them all near the breached open gap into the octagon, where that one wagon of theirs recently had stood, before being lifted off to the side. Here there were dwarves still struggling to slow down the flow of enemies into the fort, although most of them had given up on actually stopping the overpowering the werehares and vampires. Rather, most had resorted to occupying the overpowered foes in effective defensive tactics, as this was the best they could do now, while they and practically everyone was waiting for some saving moment of grace. However, just beyond the struggling dwarves and the werehares hammering at them, Evenin noticed who exactly had been making these loud latest cries of ¡°FOR PIIIEEEE!¡± For there just outside the fort, stood some dozen goblins waving in their hands something that looked like long pieces of bread. ¡°Baguettes?¡± Evenin frowned in confusion at the sight. Then she noticed how every piece, almost uniformely, had dark greenish endings. At a distance it was rather difficult to discern the details, yet to Evenin, it sort-of looked like the baguettes had mold at their ends. Wait! Why would they all wave moldy baguettes at us? Before Evenin could answer her own question, 14 goblins in total all lowered their moldy baguettes, each now pointing their long breads ¨C mold-first ¨C at the frontline defenders.


    ¡°What?¡± the envoy frowned at the scene. She understood this had to mean something, but what bizarre thing could it mean? Then another goblin stepped into view before Evenin could fully process it all, and the dwarf focused her eyes to analyze the new person. A standout firey orange half-long hair initially caught the dwarf¡¯s eyes, while 2 major naked tits quickly resolved for gender. However, as Evenin continued analyzing, she noticed a much bigger reason for her to stare. Below the goblin woman¡¯s chest was the big drawing of something with a circular outline, but tipped to an angle like a 3-dimensional shape, with squiggly lines rising from said shape over and across the goblins big tits. In quick logic, Evenin realized it was a pie ¨C a tattoo of a PIE.


    The envoy studied the situation. The goblin woman in question nodded to her baguette wielding friends, and she stepped forward a bit, shouting something over to the frontline. Some of the werehares and vampires there turned their heads. The goblin woman continued shouting more words, and several of them stepped aside, giving the moldy baguette goblins clear sight towards the lines of resisting dwarves.


    ¡°Ilgmun Bluu!¡± It was far away, and interrupted by the sounds of the fighting and suffering around her, yet Evenin heard the distinct pronounciations well as it came out in a choir.


    The moldy endings glowed yellow for only a second, then a volley of yellow-greenish projectiles of near-liquid gas shot towards the dwarves. The dwarves of course responded by raising to block with their shields ¨C all the dwarves, that is, except 1, who received a kick to her shield from a werehare just before and was subsequently caught off balance and stumbling, in the middle of the volley¡¯s area of landing. A yellow-greenish projectile struck her right in the face, where it immediately turned to smoke of the same color, and she, already stumbling backwards, fell hard on her butt. 2 other dwarves rushed in to shield her. Luckily, this was before any more werehares or goblins could exploit her moment of vulnerability. But as the seconds passed, as the dwarf found herself back on her feet again, and as Evenin watched her, the question on everyone¡¯s minds became this: what happened to you? What did, or what will, the magic spell DO?


    For a long moment, Evenin stared in order to be illuminated on that exact question. Intermittently, she would glance around herself, trying not to be caught in some sneak attack. Fortunately Snowman could keep watch for attacks against her. However, leaving a bear to think tactics all alone wasn¡¯t a terribly good idea. So while she continued staring, she also cast glances to her surroundings. Finally, after several dozen seconds, Evenin realized that the dwarf had been standing in what looked like a really awkward position for a while now, and with another really awkward expression plastered on her face. The woman was in fact shaking? It¡¯s difficult to tell but it looks like she¡¯s shaking. Oh poor you, what did the pie goblins do to you? But it wasn¡¯t just shaking, it was this total standstill pose and weird expression combined, it all looked sort-of familiar. Eventually Evenin realized what she was looking at. She was looking at someone who was experiencing something inside their body. This was the look of someone with deeply awkward internal sensations.


    PFFFUUURPHT! And the face of the woman just turned weirder, as her butt let out that most natural, yet circumstantially awkward, of sounds. Now Evenin finally, and fully realized, what was happening. The woman was standing in that weird pose because she was in fact trying to hold it together ¨C she was clenching her butt cheeks. But it was futile though, for another PFFFUUURPHT! occured and although Evenin could not see it for herself, she saw the disgusted looks of the dwarves around the woman, all of whom jerked back with great frowns on their faces, each one looking over at the woman¡¯s butt like as if it had just spoken to them. PFFFUUUURPHT! That one though, it hadn¡¯t come from the unlucky dwarf woman. This time, Evenin suddenly realized there were 2 more dwarves standing there on the frontline, both in that same butt-clenching pose, both trying desperately to hold it together. Alas for 1 of them, the continued holding-it-all-in simply wasn¡¯t to be. For this dwarf had been spotted. A werehare saw the shaking awkward standing dwarf man, and the mighty enemy came in for the kill. Thus the man, whose full black beard reached all the way down to his belly button, had to choose between on the one hand, letting go of his butt cheeks, or on the other, letting go of his life. For a scarce second the man appeared to be internally debating that exact issue, however in the end, life had to prevail. In the knick of time, the soldier let go of his pose and stepped to the side deflecting the werehare¡¯s frontal attack with his shield. A huge PFFFFUUUURRRRRRRRPHT! rang out across the frontline after that. So ruthless was the release that even from her own, quite far away position, Evenin could see the brown goo running down that unfortunate dwarf¡¯s legs.


    ¡°DIARREAH BOLT!¡± It was Steelstasche shouting. The envoy cast her eyes to the side to see him standing there, with 2 other dwarves behind him duelling the master vampire as the Infantry Corporal had apparently taken a moment to become commander again. ¡°DIARREAH BOLT! WATCH OUT FOR THE GOBLIN BREAD, THEY¡¯RE MAGIC WANDS! DON¡¯T GET HIT BY DIARREAH BOLTS!¡± The corporal took a moment to catch his breath, and his face looked properly exhausted. Taking a major inhale though, he made the most of his lungs, and shouted again. ¡°SOLDIERS! For the life of you, dodge that magic! IF you ARE HIT, you WILL spend the next half hour dying more from the bottom of your underwear, than any goblin sword or arrow!¡±


    Steelstasche continued shouting such warnings for few more rounds like that, with many breaths taken between. He was like a town crier there he stood, with the octagon of wagons as his town. After the 5th series of shouts though, with his message having been relayed to about every dwarf in the octagon whose ears were still functioning, the corporal appeared to be finally content, and he turned around to join back in with his soldiers, in what went from a 2-on-1 duel, to a 3-on-1, against Lord Smooch.


    The fighting continued for many long minutes, carnage unfolding everywhere. Dwarves died. Goblins died. Werehares died. Even another vampire died, Gemcut The Vampire-Slayer managing a stab at one unlucky vampire woman¡¯s throat. However, overall the tide of the battle was turning against the dwarves. From 3, there suddenly rose to be over a dozen dwarves walking around with their butts leaking and blasting shit. The first dwarf to have been struck had already had to retreat back to Evenin, where the woman lay on the ground at Snowman¡¯s paws, a constant weird expression on her face, and with her body curled up like a baby. A great fatigue showed through an erratic breathing. Evenin tried not to look at her. It was terrible, but also it was completely unnecessary to watch her of all people, and totally disgusting.


    Around Evenin though, with the minutes passing, she started to notice a gradual surrounding of her position. Not so close of a surrounding as to catch goblins within the deadly reaches of Snowman¡¯s bite. But close and complete enough that it was unmistakable. Then something of a breaking point occured. In rapid succession, a werehare banged a soldier¡¯s head bloody and unconconscious, a vampire man bit another soldier¡¯s neck open before throwing his victim to the side, 3 goblins managed to stab a soldier helpless and dying, and a powered up goblin champion cut the right hand off a 4th soldier, leaving the latter to bleed out in pain on the ground. And thus, suddenly, there was this completely uncontested gap towards Evenin, a gap directly connected to a steady slow flow of enemies entering the fort.


    ¡°We ATTACK her!¡± The vampire, his mouth running with the blood after his kill, pointed his hand at the envoy with wide, hungry eyes.


    ¡°Too strong¡± spoke the werehare. ¡°Leave her for Lord Smooch your master, as planned. Or to the Promises, they¡¯ll know how to deal with her.¡±


    ¡°If we attack her¡± one of the unbuffed goblins spoke, ¡°every dwarf in here would rush to defend her.¡±


    ¡°Yes¡± replied the blood-eater among them. Clothed in a black leather armor with a white shirt, and a hooded cape, rather reminiscent of his lord though a tad less handsome, the vampire turned to his comrades. ¡°Precisely, if we attack her, and if she struggled, every dwarf in viscinity would come to rescue. It would be a major distraction. We might even collapse their overall defence. And if we succeeded in taking her out, the battle for morale would most surely be won.¡± He looked to each one of their eyes, the intensity of his stare forcing each one to look at him, and so be affected by his passively working hypnotic gaze. ¡°Who wants victory? Who joins me?¡±


    The werehare squeaked a sound loud and terrorizing. Nobody knew what that meant, but the vampire interpreted it as the affirmitive yet unconvential warcry of an intelligent werekin.


    The goblin champion simply made a ¡°hmm¡± noise for a couple of seconds, then he looked over at Evenin, who¡¯d been following their discussion. Her face had been fearful, waiting, but now that the goblin champion stared at her, she forced herself to look at him with disdain; with a facade of bravery. Snowman, noticing the intense atmosphere, turned around to face the 6 new enemies. His bloodied face was much more of a concern for dungeon lords forces. Yet the goblin champion in his heavy armor, and with his greatsword in hand, only looked back at the bloody snout with brewing aggression. ¡°I¡¯m with you. Several of our friends have died at that bear¡¯s hands. If I can hurt it; if I can slay it, then I¡¯ll spare my other comrades the suffering, and death, of confronting it themselves.¡± He raised his blade and pointed it towards the bear¡¯s face a handful metres away. ¡°I challenge you bear, to survive this blade. For it¡¯s coming for you.¡±


    The vampire looked over at the 3 unpowered goblins. They looked between them. They were anxious, but as they glanced at the bear, and discussed with each other, their faces turned gradually from hesitance into determination. ¡°We will support you¡± one of them finally said. And then the same goblin turned around and shouted at some of the goblins entering the fort to come join them. While they waited for those shouted for to arrive, another werehare came up next to the one currently there, presumably having been summoned by the terrifying squeak.


    All in all, 8 goblin regulars, 2 werehares, 1 goblin champion, and 1 vampire stood against Evenin and Snowman. 3 wounded dwarves, including the dwarf who¡¯d lost his ear, moved to stand next to the bear facing the 12 enemies. However, these dwarves were only capable of standing and lifting their handaxes, it didn¡¯t mean they were fit for fighting. Besides the near-deaf one who¡¯d lost significant amounts of blood and was shivering with pain, there was a dwarf with a bleeding stab wound to the side, and a dwarf with an arrow sticking out of her leg. All in all, only the last soldier had any shield at all, and every single one of them was in pain and suffering the debilitating effects of bloodloss.


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    ¡°Oh no you won¡¯t!¡± Rushing in to join the line-up of dwarves next to Snowman came Private Understone, and next to her 2 dwarven male soldiers. ¡°Harm her and you¡¯ll lose your head, dungeon lord scum!¡±


    ¡°Is that so, miss dwarf?¡± The vampire straightened his back and took on a polite tone. ¡°Rish.¡± The goblin champion turned his head to face the vampire. ¡°Please occupy the 2 men there, while I entertain this lady soldier? The rest of you: if you can avoid the bear for now, that would be swell. Let¡¯s focus on clearing away the dwarves first, then we can all outmaneuver the bear after.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll go and keep this area clear of other dwarves¡± one of the 2 werehares said, and the furry ones ran to intercept another couple of dwarves who¡¯d clearly come to assist, but where stopped before they could get any close.


    Rish The Goblin Champion turned to the 2 unwounded dwarven men, and started moving sideways to flank them. ¡°You come with me, dwarves, or I¡¯ll come for you.¡± Klink klink klink, Rish¡¯s heavy armor produced metallic walking sounds as he approached, his greatsword pointed straight at them with a single outstretched hand. When the dwarves passively refused to step aside for a 2-on-1 duel, Rish¡¯s face grew angry, and the goblin man put both hands on his sword¡¯s hilt, before stepping up to the dwarf whose sides were bleeding. ¡°I suppose since your healthy friends are such cowards, I¡¯ll have to kill you to get their attention.¡± He lifted his mighty blade and swung it downwards in a powerful arc. When the arrow-pierced dwarf next stepped in to block, the force of the blade sent the latter stumbling backwards and yelping with the pain of putting weight on an arrow-protruding leg. The goblin quickly brought the greatsword around though, and went in for another big swing. When the large blade again landed, it struck another shield. The first of the 2 newly arrived dwarf men had stepped in, and the goblin smiled faintly, before stepping away, taking one hand off the hilt and using it to wave the other person over. Begrudgingly, the dwarf followed to an adjacent open area where they could hold their duel.


    ¡°Aaarh!¡± the other healthy man produced in annoyance, jogging over to join the duel with a sour face of being forced into it.


    The vampire watched the duel commence, then turned his eyes and smiled over at Private Understone. He made a single step forward. ¡°What a lovely evening, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Private Understone narrowed her eyes. ¡°No?¡±


    The vampire man raised his eyebrows, as if confused. ¡°You sure? Why don¡¯t you look up at the sky then, at The Vibrant Moon.¡± His own eyes and face went upwards, and he took in the apparently pleasant view of the great celestial object. ¡°Up there, somewhere, they have their palaces of white, clear marble. Naghmat, God of Werekin, and Trivili, Goddess of Bloodkin, of vampires. Is not the magic of this moonlight, like the most beautiful sight? Does not the shine of the gods make you feel powerful, and so good all over? So magnificent.¡± The white man took his eyes off the moon, and noticed the dwarf only staring at him, and glowering, not having as much as glanced in the same direction. He smiled at that, at her determination. ¡°You¡¯re missing out.¡± He returned her glowering with his own a faint smile, and the hypnotic gaze of his own eyes. Gradually, over the course of several seconds, the woman¡¯s frown lessened, until it vanished altogether. Her fervor and apparent determination to hate him all gone. Finally her eyes turned upwards while her face remained fixed. Soon her head followed too, and she fully gazed up, up towards The Vibrant Moon, and she gasped at it, and lowered her axe.


    ¡°Private Understone?¡± Evenin tried to speak to the soldier, but the woman had become mute, distant, unresponsive.


    The vampire took another step towards the mesmerized dwarf. ¡°Come over here, lady of the stonekin, and join me. Let us view this radiant, magical sight ¨C together.¡±


    ¡°UNDERSTONE!¡± As the other woman began sauntering over, Evenin yelled for her. Still she only continued staring up towards the sky, eyes mesmerized, mouth awing, feet sauntering. ¡°Get her!¡± Evenin pointed to the wounded dwarves, and the side-bleeding dwarf began moving with a wounded gait. ¡°GET HER!¡± Evenin pointed directly at the ear-missing dwarf, and then pointed at the mesmerized Understone. The dwarf understood and began walking over too, shambling a little at the vertigo of his own damaged ear-canal. However, as soon as the first dwarf caught the arm of Understone and began pulling for her to get back, the latter resisted her comrade.


    ¡°Get off me!¡± Looking back at side-bleeding dwarf, Understone pushed her shield into the dwarf¡¯s face and then, with her axe-holding hand, shoved the same dwarf into the other following. Both rescue-sent dwarves stumbled backwards, confused. Their confusion was soon replaced by dread though, as this was the time when the 8 regular goblins decided that their opportunity had come, and like a shock squad, they ran at the 2 with all their weapons. Seeing this all unfold, the 3rd and last dwarf to defend Evenin felt utterly compelled to limp forward and over to defend her comrades, each one looking ready to be slaughtered.


    ¡°Come, let¡¯s watch together¡± the vampire spoke with a soothing tone, and words so beautiful. ¡°Let not the others bother us.¡± And Private Understone walked up and into the embrace of his left arm, and as promised of him, they both looked up, together.


    With life-and-death fighting happenings all around them, both the dwarf and the vampire stood together and enjoyed that magical view of The Vibrant Moon, each taking pleasure in that divine white light shining down upon them. Finally, after nearly half a minute, the man pulled Understone in closer, forming a fuller embrace. That was when she felt it: her heart suddenly beating a little faster, and her own cheeks flushing red a little. For a moment, she felt like they were the only 2 people in the whole world, and all she could think about was him, about that dreamy gentleman, in whose arms her head was now resting, looking up at that magnificent, beautiful moon. All those other sounds around them, they mattered naught, it was all them, only them, they were the only ones there. She felt his hands on her cheeks, and then one hand sliding down to her chin, lifting her up to meet his eyes. Those deep, beautiful, enchanting eyes. She grew warmer, she could feel her own breath. He looked down at her, smiling. He leaned in, and he kissed her. It was long, it was passionate, their mouths exchanging tongues, a dance in wetness. And then, as he eventually let go of her mouth, she deeply wished he hadn¡¯t, in fact she raised herself to stand on her tip toes, wanting to be in contact with his lips for as long as possible as his face dared to retreat from her. When they finally were departed, he smiled at her some more, and oh, what a beautiful, handsome smile that was. A wonderful smile, a dreamy smile, a smile she craved to see.


    IUnderstone could only focus that smile of his, focus on those lips she was already missing; already longing to reconnect with. Then his face came closer once more, and she thought she might have that same experience again. However, his face moved to the side this time, and going for her neck. That sensation of his lips contacting with her neck though, it was no less of a powerful moment. His lips spread out across her skin, and dug into her flesh, and she felt this light playful biting, and noticed herself moaning. It was so wonderful, so nice, such a magical moment. She wanted more, and he gave her more ¨C he bit harder. ¡°MMM... more, moRE, MORE-heh!¡± Finally, he bit past her skin, and she felt her neck open, she felt her blood run. Somehow though, she liked this. Somehow, she wanted this. Somehow, it made her glad that he got to taste her, that he wanted to taste her, that he wanted her, her body, her blood. ¡°Ah¡± she let out quietly, and smiled, ¡°this is so nice. So, so nice...¡± She felt lightheaded, and it was a little painful, his sharp teeth. Yet, this pleasure. Oh the pleasure of it all.


    ¡°GUTA!¡± She thought she heard somebody shout something.


    ¡°GUTA! PRIVATE GUTA UNDERSTONE!¡± She heard it again. It was a man¡¯s voice, a familiar voice. And wasn¡¯t that her name? Wasn¡¯t she called Guta, as her first name? Yes. But why this voice now, while she was having such a pleasurable time?


    ¡°GUUUTAAAA!¡± The voice was so close. Her eyes opened up a little, and she turned her head just a little to see a dwarf man, a fully-armored and armed soldier, fighting a goblin with a greatsword, and next to him, another similarly dressed dwarf, also fighting the goblin. The first dwarf was shouting at her, in-between dodges, shield blocks, and his own weapon swinging for a cut. ¡°GUUUTAAA! GET AWAY FROM HIM!¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± What an odd request.


    ¡°Guta! RESIST HIM! He''s seducing you! The VAMPIRE is seducing you!"


    ¡°But he¡¯s so handsome¡± her voice was dreamy. ¡°Of course he is seducing me, how could he not?¡±


    ¡°GUTA! HE''S EATING YOU! HE''S SUCKING YOUR BLOOD!"


    Guta frowned at the words. ¡°And what is so bad about that? What if I WANT to be eaten, uh?¡±


    ¡°What!?¡±


    ¡°This just feels sooo goood, aaaaah¡± Private Guta Understone felt herself moan out loud on the battlefield, for everyone around to hear, and she knew at the same time that she didn¡¯t care. She wanted to moan, she wanted more, more pleasure, more being in this man¡¯s arms and just experiencing this slow vanishing of her consciousness into nothingness.


    ¡°I-I-IN THE MIDDLE OF A LIFE-AND-DEATH BATTLE!? Have you lost every bit of sanity!? GUTA, RESIST HIM!¡±


    ¡°Nooo...¡± the words coming out of her mouth were faint. A protest that was no protest at all, only the affirmation of her total surrender. Her surrender to having her neck eaten by the world¡¯s handsomest man; to this most wonderful prince of blood. To that noblest of beings, who¡¯d chosen her, and only her, for consumption.


    ¡°GET OFF GUTA YOU BLOOD-SUCKING FIEND! You won¡¯t have my friend!¡± Guta suddenly felt the simultanous detaching from her of teeth, lips, hands, and everything. That nice feeling, suddenly it had all left her, all departed her. He, that dreamy gentleman, had left their embrace. She collapsed, weak, an instant sorrow spilling over her. The greatest love she had ever had, he had left her. Where was he? Oh there he was, being chased by a man with an axe. She really hoped her lover would be back soon, that he wasn¡¯t forgetting his woman ¨C that he wasn¡¯t forgetting them. Maybe she was being jealous, but she didn¡¯t want her lover playing with others. She was all the toy he needed, and all the meals he ever wanted. She still had blood left to give, she wasn¡¯t all used up yet. Oh, couldn¡¯t she please be allowed to feel his teeth in her neck again. Please?


    Evenin watched the vampire run away from the mad dwarf, and she watched Private Understone sit on the ground, looking sad and lost, slowly bleeding out from her neck.


    ¡°Aeeeh!¡± her head snapped at the sound over to the dwarf duelling with the goblin champion. The dwarf was the one who¡¯d made the shrill yelp of a sound, and as she took in the picture, what her eyes saw was a dwarf bleeding profusely, with only half an arm, and no axe. The dwarf stared at his missing limb in utter, terrorized shock. Rish the goblin kicked the shield of the stunned dwarf and the latter fell to the ground, eyes bulged, still looking at his own dismemberment.


    The champion looked over at her now, and then down at Snowman, raising his greatsword to point at the bear. ¡°Time for us soon, great bear.¡±


    Evenin¡¯s head snapped over again to another event. This time to experience the dying moment of that ear-missing dwarf, as the front of his neck got a shortsword piercing into and then through it. Shortly thereafter, as the same shortsword was dislodged, and the goblins surrounded the remaining 2 dwarves in a circle of 8. The next press of attacks near instantly felled the dwarf with a bleeding side, who had no protections and no mobility to keep up with 4 goblins in semi-synchronous stabbing motions. Then it was the shield-wielding dwarf. Also having reduced mobility from the arrow in her leg, she desperately tried to point her shield in every single direction, ignoring the pain of her leg. But as 2 goblins attacked her shield head-on, there was no chance for her to also block the stabs directed to her back, and so she fell too. And just like that, they were all down on the ground, dying from critically mortal wounds.


    The vampire fled into the reaches of the goblin champion, and the 8 goblins came over to help. In no time at all, the remaining healthy dwarven soldier, panting from his chase, found himself surrounded by 10 enemies.


    ¡°RAAAWR!¡± Snowman charged into the encirclement, ripping up the torso of one of the goblins with his teeth, and sending 2 other goblins falling to the sides with powerful, skin-ripping paw strikes.


    ¡°Soldier!¡± Evenin commanded. ¡°Protect Snowman from sneak-attacks. He¡¯ll do the main fighting from here on.¡±


    The thanks on the face of the soldier was total for that split second it took him to process the order and then run over to Snowman¡¯s rear, his shield up and his axe ready, a new vigor surging into his muscles. It was now a bear and a single dwarven soldier, against 9 enemies ¨C 7 regular goblins, 1 goblin champion, and 1 vampire.


    ¡°By the gods! What a shit show this has become!¡± The voice shouted from far away, but, unmistably, even faint, Evenin recognized it. That was the voice of Cavalry Sergeant Castiron. As her ears picked up the voice, her curiosity overcame her, and she glanced up and over for a brief second. In the intensity of the waiting combat even that little time was precious spending, but she had to know ¨C she had to know if hope had arrived.


    Over at the other side of the fort, at the rear of the hoard of goblins trying to squeeze themselves in through the vanishing frontline of the dwarves, dwarven riders on rams could be seen. A few seconds later, in-between which she rapidly looked from goblin to goblin and to vampire, trying to gauge their next move and seeing none, Evenin dared to make a second briefest of glances, and what she caught there would both fill her with joy, and with worry. Only somewhere around 2 dozen ram cavalry, and likely less than that, could be seen from her position on the back of Snowman. That was fewer, much fewer in fact, than originally. But they were here nonetheless. And the Castiron was already rapidly developing the habit of galloping past the goblin flanks, and chopping the goblin forces from the sides, with the powerful killing blows of greataxes; his and the other cavalryists¡¯ alike.


    In their tight groupings trying to get into the fort, the goblins had become something of an easy target by now. Gone was the spread out goblins who dodged and ran around the rams. This, in a new contrast, was a cluster ready for slaughter.


    The goblin champion lunged with his greatsword, and Snowman backed off a step, swiping at the weapon and striking the blade with hammering strength. Rish was caught utterly by surprise as his weapon fell hard towards the ground. He stumbled forward in his attempted plunge and pierced the soil instead. Seeing the great white one¡¯s face coming for his throat next, the champion dropped his soil-stabbing weapon and rapidly backed away to the point of fleeing. But Snowman stopped, and instead went for the regular goblin to the left, in-so-doing shattering the encirclement also, as the smaller goblin, wearing nothing but a leather vest for armor and a shortsword for weapon, decided that trying to stand his ground at that moment was suicide, and fled too. Neither of the goblins went very far, though still far enough that Snowman simply lumbered out of the encirclement, roaring at the remaining forces, neither of which immediately sprang forth to make another daringly close surround of his shape.


    The battle for the central fort continued for the next minutes with grinding bloodshed from both sides. Castiron cut down the outside forces so efficiently that the advance of the goblins, vampires, and werehares into the fort slowed down to a crawl, and the goblins on the outside formed up to a defensive line to properly protect their rear. The war chefs of the Tumis also appeared. Promise Sausage and Promise Pie stepped up with new, odd weapons in hand. The first revealed a string of linked sausages for a weapon, a sausage-whip, while the latter firey orange-haired woman brought forth a duel set of elongated moldy stale bread. Conveniently, these long pieces of bread were thinner at the one edge, thus giving hilts to 2 clearly poisonous clubs. Clubs which the goblin chef used to awe-striking effect as she spotted an incoming ram-mounted dwarf galloping towards her position. Letting the dwarf think his greataxe was going to land, she surprised the man at the last moment by jumping over his large blade and slamming both baguette-shapes into his body. The impact of the stale bread clubs sent the latter falling backwards, off and into the ground, where he was quickly swarmed by raging, vengeful goblin regulars. Not to be outdone by the stunt, Promise Sausage wrapped his sausage-whip around the arms of another dwarf trying to gallop past and make an axe strike. Yanking at the limb, the Promise forced the dwarf woman off her ram and into the ground, where she too was quickly swarmed and stabbed to death.


    From the frontlines a couple of buffed werehares joined the ruckus at the back, and their speed, strength, and agility quickly became a headache for the otherwise powerful cavalry. What had a started for them like a slaughterfest, quickly became just as much defence, and soon all these factors conspired to bring the number of riders down to a mere dozen. Of course, Castiron was not idle in all this, but showed his own leadership by managing to slice the head off one of the buffed werehares, before greaviously wounding the arm of the other, sending it squeaking painfully back into the crowd of goblins.


    Inside the fort, blood was everywhere. Snowman had killed or severely wounded all the goblin regulars, including 3 more who¡¯d come to join the fight while it had all happened. The werehares had returned though, and it was now 1 vampire, 1 goblin champion, and 2 werehares, against 1 great white bear with only minor injuries, and 1 dwarf soldier who¡¯d only managed to stay alive by being repeatedly saved by said bear, as well as by being extremely attentive not to fall prey to the utter speed and strength of the werehares, who tried to abduct him away from the scene on more than one occasion, but luckily failed each time with a last-minute hack of an axe, shield bash, or bear paw.


    ¡°HAH!¡± came the loud triumphant voice of Infantry Corporal Steelstasche, whose long-lasting duel with Lord Smooch, had moved like a slow storm throughout the fort all this time. The storm had cut down several goblins, as well as a few dwarves by the vampire¡¯s doing, as the veteran soldier sought to slay the vampire and any other enemy coming between them. The vampire meanwhile was trying actively to stay alive, and in his dance-like dodges sought to dominate the indomitable, but failing. ¡°You BLEED! How does it feel to be mortal, master vampire?¡± With his silver-coated dagger, Steelstache had managed to slice a thin wound across the vampire¡¯s upper chest, and the dwarf was relishing in the minor success.


    The vampire produced some room between them as the silver-striken wound flared up for a few seconds. He grimaced unhappily, clearly in pain, as he looked down at his chest. ¡°It stings, but that¡¯s it. You feel awfully confident for making me sting, Infantry Corporal.¡±


    ¡°Yet I could go on and on¡± Steelstache smiled, ¡°and you¡¯ve yet to make me sting. I think I know who¡¯s winning this duel.¡±


    Lord Smooch gave the corporal a sour expression, then produced something of a smile as another soldier came to join Steelstasche. The vampire looked at the newcomer, and then right in the newcomer¡¯s eyes. ¡°What a wonderful thing that you could join us, my friend, my lover.¡±


    The newcomer, a lightly bearded young man by the looks of it, raised his eyebrows and leaned over to speak to Steelestasche. ¡°Is that guy all right in his head?¡±


    ¡°Resist him private, he might be trying to mess with your mind.¡± He gave the private a serious set of eyes.


    ¡°Mess with my friend, how could I ever? We are bonded for life, 2 souls woven together. 2 lovers who could not be parted by anything, nor anyone.¡± Then the vampire leaned over and blew a kiss. From the lips and hands of his hands, a pink butterfly of light came into being, its wings spreading out instantly, as it flew over and subsequently threw itself at the newcomer¡¯s forehead. The dwarf tried to step back and dodge it, but the spell homed in on him, and as it struck, a moment of confusion occured, before his whole body slumped, and the younger dwarf looked over at Lord Smooch, a smiling, dreamy expression on his face.


    ¡°Love¡± the newcomer raised his handaxe to his chest and beat the flat side of his weapon against it. A tear soon falling down his cheek. ¡°Love, how I have longed to see you.¡±


    ¡°And how I have longed for you¡± replied the master seducer.


    ¡°ENOUGH!¡± Infantry Corporal Steelstasche yelled. He turned and shook his comrade. ¡°SNAP OUT OF IT!¡± He went as far as to briefly sheath his dagger and slap the face of the other. ¡°He is messing with your MIND, you must resist the effects! Use your willpower! OVERCOME his magic!¡±


    ¡°There is no magic¡± spoke the master vampire, soothingly, before glancing over at Steelstasche. ¡°There is only love, the only magic to require no mana, only one¡¯s heart.¡± His eyes turned back to look into the younger one¡¯s. ¡°I have your heart, don¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡± smiled a red-cheeked dwarf back.


    ¡°This man wants to kill me¡± Lord Smooch put up a sad, almost crying face, eyes momentarily glancing at Steelstasche, before returning to his supposed romance. ¡°Will you help me, will you help your love?¡±


    This time the other dwarf didn¡¯t respond. Instead, he turned to his corporal; to Steelstasche, utter and total rage on his face.


    Outside the fort of wagons, the battle of attrition had seen Cavalry Sergeant Castiron become the last, the very last, of his cavalry. All the other ram riders were either dead, or lay bleeding on the ground. He however, had not given up. The sausage-whip he had cut apart in mid air with his axeblade, while Promise Pie had been rammed unconscious by his ram in a failed attempt to slam him out of his saddle. He was not beaten.


    But strong as Castiron was, he did not have infinite stamina, nor did his ram. And the amount of enemies were simply too many. Yes, he and his soldiers had managed to halve the number of goblins available for the assault on the wagon fort, even momentarily stopped the flow into the fort as the goblins tried to secure their rear, but he was literally running out of anything to fight with. He was drained, exhausted, vulnerable, and alone. His remaining dwarven allies were inside the fort, and the 2 other forts were dealing with assaults of their own. Smaller assaults, for sure, nothing as devastating as this, but still assaults. There were no reinforcements to be had. Nowhere to retreat to. It was to fight, or surrender, and if they¡¯d surrender, they¡¯d become slaves, and the envoy, Evenin of Redratall, she¡¯d be lost to the enemy. Perhaps they¡¯d kill her. So there was no real alternative then, none but to fight, and likely to die a death. A death glorious, but bloody, painful, and alone.


    Castiron would go on, go on for as long as possible. He would slay the enemy, he would keep himself alive. Even if it took a full day, he would fight his way to Evenin¡¯s rescue, and extract her out of there. She, most of all, had to survive this. Castiron rode past again, he cut down 2 goblins who tried to jump at him with spears. Fully passing the crowd of goblins, his ram turned around, and he rode in again, and he cut down a goblin who tried to stand right in front him. His ram battered the goblin to ground, and he swung his axe at the downed warrior. He turned and repeated, then turned and repeated, then yet more turned and repeated. He killed 10 goblins this way. No 20. More death, more killing, more swinging his axe, more inspiring terror and despair in the ranks of the goblins, all until WOOOSH-SPLAT!


    Cavalry Sergeant Castiron noticed his right eye blacken out. His left eye, meanwhile, noticed the long protruding stick of an arrow sticking out from his face. Well, he¡¯d been hit ¨C but he wasn¡¯t dead. Even as his left eye watered and he felt the closeness of death from his ruined right eye, he knew he could go on. So he cut again, killing another goblin. ¡°WHAAAH!¡± screamed his ram, and suddenly he noticed his ram had been pierced at neck as well, an arrow protruding like from his eye. He kicked the ram, forcing it to continue on. At the start, this worked, and his ram galloped forward, but soon the ram came to a trott, and no amounts of kicking would make it gallop anymore. Then another arrow struck it, and it started to walk. It was struggling under him. No stamina left, and it was bleeding, and its breathing, it was obviously difficult for it to breath. He swung himself out of the saddle, and saw somewhere in the viscinity of 20 goblins come rushing for him. Well he still had his armor, he still had an eye, and his arms and his weapons were working perfectly, if only a little tired. ¡°AAAAARRRH!¡± he screamed, and charged back at the goblins. A few of the goblins got scared and stopped, but most of them just screamed back, ¡°AAAAARH!¡±, and they clashed. He cut left, right, down, up, heart racing to keep up with all of his enemies. If he could move fast enough, their spears wouldn¡¯t find where to stick him, and their shortswords wouldn¡¯t reach him. With his armored fist, he smashed in the face of a goblin who tried to get him from behind. Meanwhile, his axe never stopped swining. 1 goblin down, 2, 3, 4, 5, then an odd feeling in his shoulder. He looked, and a spear had found a weak point, a place to strike at his muscles, a place to make him bleed. He was tired, so tired it took him precious time to step out of the blood-soaking spear-tip.


    He realized that part of his body was slowing down, that parts of it wanted to give up, to give in to death, to just make it all end. 6 goblins down, and a broad swing of the axe cut the head clean off a 7th. Then a goblin champion came into view, a greatsword in hand, and when that goblin struck, he knew he had to block. The weight of the enemy¡¯s blade was heavy, its muscles strong, and for another precious second, they both just stood there, blade meeting blade. Castiron felt something pierce his neck. Was he dead yet? He tried to wriggle out of the sword stuck in him, but moving only made it difficult to breath, and he started forcibly coughing large amounts of blood. Suddenly his right leg gave in, and he came down to a knee. The goblin champion raised his greatsword, and through looking up with his single working eye, Cavalry Sergeant Castiron knew, with certainty, what came next. Death, glorious death. A life in service of his people, coming to its very end ¨C its very, final, last brief moment.


    Evenin didn¡¯t see it happen, but she¡¯d seen how the cavalry had slowly dwindled into nothing, and now that she no longer saw Castiron, only a cluster of idle goblins surrounding a spot in the distance, she knew it had happened, in her heart.


    PFFFT!-BAM!


    Evenin saw the red gasous magical lights erupt in violent combustion around her, and the air-vibrating shockwave spewing forth from her, and she saw the glitter of silvery pieces falling from her hair. But more than that, she felt a strange painful feeling in her own body, followed by another similar, but somehow reverse sensation.


    ¡°You¡¯re doomed, envoy¡± a voice spoke next to her ear, and when she turned, there stood the master vampire on top of Snowman¡¯s broad back, a tiny, bloody, large needle in his right hand. Evenin thought for a moment that she recognized the needle, but then she realized something more importantly, that blood of the needle, it must be mine. I must¡¯ve been stabbed. For a second she just sat there, shocked to her core, but then Snowman launched himself upright on 2 paws, shaking off the vampire who landed gracefully on his feet, as the upright bear came around, raging at the smiling face of the world¡¯s handsomest assassin.


    ¡°AH!¡± Evenin heard Steelestache¡¯s voice break out, ¡°AH!¡±, a voice of despair, a sorrowful shaking voice that was lost for words. ¡°AaaaaaH!¡± it was the sound of a man breaking, not an angry voice, but a shattered voice. Yet the corporal launched himself at the master vampire from behind, and the 2 resumed their duel. ¡°YOU ¨C WILL ¨C DIE!¡± was all the veteran was able to speak. The ferocity of the leader¡¯s strikes were increasing, his speed was increasing, his silver-coated dagger more savagely flung around. It didn¡¯t take long before the vampire had not 1, but 2 new open minor wounds, each flaring intensely from their silver-caused reactions.


    But savage as his attacks were, the wild attacks left the corporal without situational awareness, and he soon found himself surrounded by other vampires, werehares, and a goblin champion, who decided to intercede and go for him, all jointly. Not noticing it happening, the infantry corporal was centimeters away from dying ¨C when the sky lit up, and a giant swarm of lightning strikes came all over the fort ¨C no, not just the fort, but the entirety of the battlefield.


    The blinding lights flashing before Infantry Corporal Steelstasche left him unable to act. Instead he fell down to his knees, weeping as he cursed the flashes and how they blinded him from his revenge. The power of the skies lasted for 10 seconds, then 30 seconds, then a minute, then several. For a long time the flashing, the thundering, the sparks, and the frying of the air, none of it would stop. But then, as suddenly as it had arrived, it ceased. Steelstasche, his face wet with tears, once more dared to open his eyes, to face up, and to see. And what he saw there was her. With a black flaming outline for sure, a faintly translucent body sure, but it was her ¨C the witch of all witches ¨C Irridiklara. And she spoke, not to him, but to the still alive but lightly bleeding woman on her bear. ¡°Evenin, what did they do to you?¡±


    ¡°Achoo!¡±

 Epilogue: Waking Up

    ¡°Achoo!¡±


    Evenin felt hot, and weak, and slimy. Her dwarven nose snotty and moist.


    ¡°Blessing of the gods be upon you, Minister Girl.¡± The voice of Irridiklara, it was close.


    Evenin opened her eyes. She was lying in a soft bed in some ornate bedroom of stone brick walls. She looked to her left, there sat Irridiklara, reading a book with The Footstool of Gardamosh under her feet, and a comfy reading chair under her old hag of a butt. Irridiklara flipped a page.


    ¡°Achoo!¡± Evenin couldn¡¯t help it, she just felt so, so, sooo very sick.


    ¡°I have a feeling that¡¯s not going to stop anytime soon, so I¡¯m just going to repeat myself once: blessing of the gods be upon you, and then let¡¯s say that counts for all of your future and inevitable sneezes.¡±


    ¡°Uuuuh¡± Evenin tried to speak, but produce only some generic sick-person noises. ¡°¡¯hank ¡®u¡±, she managed, then gave up further speaking.


    She just lay there for a while, experiencing her own sickness in all its immediate flavors.


    ¡°Mmm¡± Irridiklara sounded, still not a single eye off her book. ¡°Mmm, indeed, hmm... mmm...¡± out of the corner of Evenin¡¯s eye, she could see the witch nod to herself. ¡°Mmh? Mmm... ah.¡± The old witch was thinking noisely, and Evenin wanted to tell her to please don¡¯t make so many pointless noises! But she couldn¡¯t muster the will to say so. So instead, for a time, the dwarf just lay there, in sweat-soaked bedsheets, feeling too warm, too cold, both at the same time, and so, so, so very slimy. Her breathing turned into slurping noises ever so often, that¡¯s how slimy she was. Every part of her face felt wet too. Her eyes were wet, her nose was wet, her mouth was certainly wet ¨C more than usual ¨C and she was everywhere sweating. Her vision was hazy, and she had practically no strength to lift her head or to sit up. And she had no Snowman. Where is my Snowman?


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Iddiklara?¡± she half-mumbled to the older woman.


    ¡°Mmyes?¡± The witch didn¡¯t look up.


    ¡°Snoomanh? Eh is Snoomanh?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s alive.¡± For a second Irrid glanced up to meet Evenin¡¯s eyes, then she looked down again. ¡°He¡¯s being taken care of. He was damaged in the battle, but he¡¯ll make it, mostly unscathed. Just a few, little, minor scars.¡±


    Evenin swallowed. ¡°Good.¡±


    For the next few minutes, Evenin faded in and out of being awake. First her weakness drained her into the darkness of consciousness. However, only moments therein, she¡¯d slowly wake up again, feeling the intense bright white magical ceiling light on her eyes, and hearing the mumbles of Irridklara, and of course, she¡¯d already slept abundantly. All of this stirred her back. And then, bored and weak in her bed, she¡¯d start to fade again.


    SNAP! Irrid¡¯s book closed together in an instant, loud soud, and Evenin woke up again. She turned her head to look, and saw the witch stand up. ¡°An interesting work, unfortunately, it brings me no closer to helping you. However¨C¡± she took a step over, getting a little closer to Evenin¡¯s bed. ¡°¨CI¡¯ve recently gotten acquainted with a man, a very curious and young fellow, who might be able to break this mystery that I am, at least for the time being, completely unable to.¡±


    ¡°¡¯Ad myshery?¡±


    ¡°Your sickness.¡± Irrid replied. ¡°It¡¯s magical, and it won¡¯t go away, and nobody appears to know how to get rid of it. But let me go and get him, I promised him I¡¯d show you to him, as soon as you woke up.¡±


    Evenin just stared back, and the witch didn¡¯t bother to ask for the dwarf¡¯s opinion. Instead, the old woman walked up to the room¡¯s door, stepped out, and then, for a long time disappeared. By the time she was back, Evenin had fallen asleep again, but was woken up when the door flung open.


    ¡°Come inside¡± Irrid spoke to someone, and a figure appeared through the doorway. As Evenin looked the man over with her eyes, she thought he looked familiar, if just a little.


    Irrid strode over to the bed with the man following lazily at her heels. Pointing a hand at the fella, the witch introduced them.


    ¡°This is Rum, a mage of Ermos, of sorts. Rum¡± Irrid switched hands and gestured at the dwarf in her bed, ¡°this is Evenin of Redratall, The Envoy to Ermos of The Dwarven States.¡±


    Evenin stared up at the mage called Rum, and he stared back down at her, smiling, and, is that fascination?


    ¡°Hello¡± the mage spoke, ¡°it is interesting to meet such a thoroughly intriguing specimen. Things have truly changed, haven¡¯t they, Irridiklara? The day you ask a godless mage, to break a curse of the gods.¡±