Stone and Blood: Act 3, Chapter 6

Stone and Blood: Act 3, Chapter 6

Chapter 6

“Moving out in two minutes!”

Florine looked over her shoulder at the sound of Falagrim’s voice. She immediately regretted wasting the precious seconds spent doing so. Her eyes returned to the mural covering the wall before her, examining its details under the light of a Torch held aloft by the Death Knight behind her.

I don’t have enough time to study all of this.

The illuminated portion was merely one part of the mural and she wasn’t sure how large the whole thing was. A lifelike scene was rendered into stone, portraying a battle between the Hill Dwarves and an army of Giants, Giantkin, and Goblins. She couldn’t estimate how long it had taken to create the mural, but even an uneducated common labourer could probably tell it was a priceless piece of art. More than that, it was a priceless piece of history, and that history had happened completely underground.

She walked a dozen metres to the side, where the scene transitioned to a side tunnel where Dwarven skirmishers were ambushing their enemies using a combination of traps, Magical Beasts, and crossbows.

“Moving out!”

Argh...

“Isoroku,” she said. “Have we received a response from the Royal Army?”

“Message spells appear to be ineffective for communication with the surface,” the Elder Lich replied. “A summon has been dispatched with a physical copy of your request.”

“I see. Thank you.”VIssịT n0(v)eL/b(i)(n).com for the best novel reading experience

The relative silence of the surroundings was abruptly broken by the sound of an Undead army on the march. Thousands of Undead moved in lockstep – those that had feet, at any rate – the dominated remnants of the tens of thousands of Undead infesting Dur-orogh. Falagrim had conducted the battle with a calculated ruthlessness that put to rest any doubts that he was capable of commanding his newly-acquired Undead forces. Now, Florine was left to ponder the various implications revolving around the terms of his lease.

Falagrim had taken the standard contract that was publicly offered by the Sorcerous Kingdom, though he was the first person that had actually signed up for one. Like the deals that the Sorcerous Kingdom had with the Baharuth Empire, the Azerlisian Mountain Dwarves, and the Draconic Kingdom, several clauses supposedly ensured that the leased Undead couldn’t be used as a tool of conquest. They were for defensive purposes only and Falagrim assured the administration that he only intended to use them to secure his holdings.

Now that they were on their way, however, Florine could only wonder how the Dwarf Lord might use the terms of the agreement in a way that went against their intent.

I wonder if this Sorcerous Kingdom of yours is just trying to split the world in half.

What did he mean by that? At first, Florine assumed it was the obvious notion that anyone who leased the Undead could be seen as siding with the Sorcerous Kingdom or collaborating with what most of the world considered the enemies of all life. Unfortunately, she was beginning to sense that there was much more to his words.

“Kill that light!”

Florine nodded. The Death Knight deactivated the magic item. At the end of the long colonnade was a wall identical to the one that they had entered from. Velgath floated up into the air and out of sight. A minute later, the masterfully-crafted door revealed its existence and slid silently to the side. A wave of humidity rolled over them, carrying with it a cocktail of unfamiliar scents.

The army advanced. To Florine’s surprise, they did not emerge into a cavernous passage like the one that connected the Dwarf city to the surface, but instead stepped onto a stretch of Dwarven pavement. It was not dissimilar to the roads being laid around the Duchy of E-Rantel.

“A highway?”

“An underway,” Velgath corrected her.

It had the same, ageless feeling to it as the architecture in the Hill Dwarf capital. The underway’s smooth walls and ceilings, despite having no visible vaults or bracings, remained in perfect condition without anyone to maintain the structure. Indeed, the underway itself appeared to be enchanted and even the sound of the Undead army’s passage was being absorbed into its walls.

“Hey, Loar,” Falagrim said. “Any sign of where the trains went?”

“The monitor in the station office was destroyed,” the Dark Dwarf Ranger replied. “They could be anywhere, but I bet they were destroyed by whoever attacked this place.”

“Find any clues about that?”

“No,” Loar shook his head. “Whoever did it cleaned up after themselves real good.”

“Hmm...”

Florine didn’t share the same frame of reference, but the demise of the Hill Dwarves presented a mystery all the same. The presence of the Undead suggested that the people of Dur-orogh met with a violent end – one that hadn’t allowed a single Hill Dwarf to escape into the Abelion Hills to spread the word of their fate.

Going by the scale and quality of their stonecraft, the Hill Dwarf kingdom here was no less advanced than the Mountain Dwarf Kingdom in the Azerlisia Mountains at the height of its prosperity and thus should have been at least as powerful. But, while the Mountain Dwarves had the Demon Gods to thank for destroying Feoh Berkana and initiating their slow decline, the Demon Gods had supposedly been defeated before they could reach Dur-orogh. The very idea was a bitter one: to survive the greatest calamity to befall the region in centuries, only to be destroyed shortly after beneath everyone’s notice.

Her head turned as they crossed an intersection, trying to make out what lay in the darkness to either side.

“Where do those lead?” Florine asked.

“To other cities, obviously?” Velgath answered, “Where do you think we’re going?”

“I thought we were going to your home.”

The Dwarf woman snorted.

“You’re one of those types that thinks every race is just one blob of the same people, aren’t you?” She said, “If the Hill Dwarves were so nicely connected to us, don’t you think whatever got them would’ve gotten us, too?”

“Do you know who did this?”

“Nope.”

Whenever she spoke with Velgath, Florine felt that she would have been better off not interacting with her in the first place. The worst part was that Velgath went out of her way to speak to her once in a while, unlike Falagrim and the others.

What drove the Dark Dwarves to behave that way? Lady Shalltear said that it was what they were supposed to be like, but Florine simply couldn’t accept that. The idea that someone could just decide that an entire race was a certain way and have it be true was utterly ludicrous.

Falagrim held up a fist and the army came to a stop. A pair of his Rangers appeared out of the gloom.

“We got squatters,” one of them said. “Ten kilometres ahead. Goblins at one of the mine junctions.”

“Great,” Falagrim said. “Everyone, get ready for a jolly little chase.”

“Wait,” Florine said. “What are you doing?”

“I just said what we’re doing. You’re not going to make some stupid claim about these Goblins being your citizens, are you? We’re a kilometre underground and no one that lives here has even heard about Jaldabaoth or the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

The Sorcerous Kingdom’s administration had no record of anything so far beneath the surface, so at least that much was probably true. In many ways, it felt as if the Royal Court’s side of the government shared the same blindness as its Human subjects. Florine’s experience working with the other races in the Sorcerous Kingdom only served to underscore the oddity. Despite mostly being composed of Heteromorphs, they tended to see things in what could only be described in a Human way. They placed value on what Humans valued and acted as Humans would in a wide range of situations.

This, in turn, led many to interact with them as they would with Humans, right up until the point where they would be pointedly reminded that they were not. Except, aside from those moments, Florine couldn’t honestly say that they weren’t for all practical purposes. Some might suggest that it was an act for the benefit of E-Rantel’s citizens, but it was very difficult to act so consistently.

All that aside, she had no legal authority to intervene in Falagrim’s actions. The lease was his to do with and they were effectively in an unclaimed frontier. It was a similar problem to what Ludmila had to deal with in the Empire, except that there wasn’t a faction in the Empire holding them back.

“May I at least ask why you’re doing this?”

“Because this kingdom was sealed from the surface,” Falagrim said. “That means the only way these Goblins can get in is from underground. Fleeing down these underways will only lead them to cities filled with the Undead, so they’ll flee into the mines and lead us right to the spot where they got in from outside.”

“Have you considered just asking how to get out?”

All people need is a chance.

It was strange that even the idea that such chances could exist fell outside of most people’s common sense. As Falagrim had so snidely pointed out, no one would chance a chance. The world had long drawn the thresholds of unacceptable risk and those who questioned them were considered fools. Those fools tended to not survive their folly and they served to reinforce what was already established.

Florine’s cot swayed slightly as the Vampire Bride moved up her legs. Her eyes popped open and she sat upright when something wet traced up her thigh.

“Wh-wh-wh-wh-what are you doing?!”

The Vampire Bride looked up at her. She had peeled off the top of her postal officer’s uniform, which now hung loosely about her waist. Her pale, heavy breasts dragged over Florine’s legs as her tongue left a slick trail up her leg. Several moments passed before the Vampire Bride seemed to realise what she was doing.

“Oh, pardon me,” she wiped her lips. “Force of habit.”

And just what habit might that be?!

Florine pulled down her skirts, swinging her legs off of the cot and putting her boots back on. She exchanged the perils of her tent for the relative safety of the Realms Below. Not far away, Falagrim was gathered for a meal with Agni and Velgath.

“Master Falagrim,” Florine said as she walked up to join them. “How long will we be camping here for?”

“Six hours, at least,” the Dwarf Lord replied. “Longer if the Deepwardens can’t find a way north.”

She pulled out her pocket watch. It had been thirty-six hours since they departed Dur-orogh. Between the lack of daylight and her Ring of Sustenance, she hadn’t realised how much time had passed.

“If they can’t find a way north,” she said, “does that mean we have to go back to Dur-orogh?”

“No,” Falagrim replied, “it means we’ll have to keep going forward until we do.”

“Which way have we been going?”

“Northwest.”

Falagrim turned away and entered his tent. The exchange had been so straightforward that Florine couldn’t imagine how much weighed on the Dark Dwarf’s mind. Agni finished her food and left, leaving Florine and Velgath to stare across the space at one another. Florine steeled herself for yet another unpleasant conversation.

So, how were you able to reach your father?

She grew queasy at the memory of Velgath’s gory entrance. Even Isoroku was at a loss as to what had happened. It wasn’t any form of magic that the Elder Lich could recognise so they couldn’t even say what she had done. Velgath asserted that it was a ‘translocation mishap’ that she had no control over. With no precedent and little evidence as to what had happened, the judiciary couldn’t decide what to do with her.

Is there anything safe that I can ask?

“I don’t think I ever got how old you were...”

“Huh? Sixty-eight. What’s it to you?”

How old is that in Human years?

According to the Azerlisian Mountain Dwarves, they could live for over four hundred years. Florine wasn’t sure whether that was true or not since no one over two hundred had survived to the present day. When the Demon Gods attacked their kingdom and in the decades after that, every able-bodied Dwarf was called to defend their people while the old and infirm were sent away to take care of the young. As a result, there was a gaping hole in their demographics that made them seem like a very young population – at least by Dwarf standards.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Florine said, “but that means you’re about as old as I am, relatively speaking.”

“I got no idea about that.”

“When are Dark Dwarves considered adults?”

“When they’re recognised as masters at their craft,” Velgath replied. “Shouldn’t that be the same everywhere?”

“The other Dwarf kingdom that I’m familiar with is like that, yes,” Florine nodded. “With Humans, it depends. At least one culture has its age of adulthood set close to when the average person has grown enough to be recognised as a master. With most of the Human cultures in the region, however, the age of adulthood is around when one becomes a journeyman.”

Velgath’s lip curled as her look turned incredulous.

“That’s crazy,” she said. “No wonder Human civilisations always collapse. Does your home fall apart every other week?”

“It’s not that bad,” Florine said. “Our countries don’t usually get destroyed unless something stupid powerful comes along and kicks everything over, like the Demon Gods or the Eight Greed Kings.”

“Can’t imagine that. Does that mean you’re just a kid, as well?”

“I’m an adult.”

“A master adult, or a journeyman adult?”

“...the journeyman kind.”

The Dwarf woman shook her head with a condemning look.

“So this Sorcerous Kingdom sent a kid to run their operation in the Abelion Hills,” she said.

“This isn’t my first time working with tribal societies,” Florine said. “One of my first big assignments was laying the foundations for a trade network in another part of the Sorcerous Kingdom. I helped thousands of Demihumans adapt to an urban environment, as well.”

“You don’t say.”

“What about you?” Florine asked, “Your father’s a Dwarf Lord, isn’t he? I’m curious about how scions from other places are raised.”

“What’s there to be curious about?” Velgath answered, “Parents raise their kids the best way they know and can afford. The people on top teach their children how to stay on top, and they do it in a place where their enemies can’t get to them.”

Technically, it did describe how things went, as far as Florine knew. A Human Noble’s upbringing was almost entirely at home or in the home of a trusted ally. Quality of education varied, with the vast majority of houses only being able to afford what was immediately important. From what she saw of the Dark Dwarves so far, however, Florine could only imagine that Velgath’s upbringing had an outsized portion dedicated to surviving the malice of her own people.

“So where are you in all of that?” Florine asked, “I’m still uncertain whether you’re considered an adult or not.”

“Somewhere in between, I guess,” Velgath said. “Our traditions state that every scion has to be in the military for at least a century.”

“...that’s a long time.”

Velgath shrugged.

“One learns how to fight and how to fight alongside one’s clan, or one dies.”

With that, the Dwarf woman turned and left. Following her lead, the remaining Dwarves withdrew into their tents, leaving Florine standing alone.

Did that count as progress?

Florine’s initial feeling that Velgath might be more receptive to conversation may have actually been correct. She just had to account for the fact that what would be considered hostile by Human standards was probably normal for Dark Dwarves. Not being subjected to one unpleasant thing or another every second sentence was probably as good as it got.

With the Undead securing the cavern and the camp settling down for their first rest in nearly two days, Florine decided to head back to her tent. With the ever-increasing sense of grim focus falling over the Dark Dwarves, she suspected that it might be the last stop before Falagrim returned home to challenge his clan’s fate.