Stone and Blood: Act 4, Chapter 1

Stone and Blood: Act 4, Chapter 1

Chapter 1

19th Day, Upper Fire Month, 1 CE

Florine stopped to frown at the walls of bones framing the main gate of Felhammer Citadel. Blood dripped from the machicolations from which the arms and legs of dead Dark Dwarves occasionally stuck out. Heavy footfalls rang in grim cadence as pairs of Death Knights patrolled the walls, turning the scene as a whole into one of what most people would probably recognise as somewhere between pure evil and absolute evil.

She held in a sigh as the two Death Knights at the gate offered her a crisp salute. It wasn’t the sort of place where a glowing welcome reflected well on its recipient.

“You missed all of the fun,” Velgath’s voice came from the shadows of the gate.

“I’m glad to see that you’re well, Lady Velgath,” Florine said.

“Lady Velgath, huh...”

“Was that not the proper form of address?”

“Technically, it isn’t wrong,” Velgath said, “but we’re not sticklers about that sort of thing. If anything, it indicates who the valuable targets are to anyone within earshot.”

Florine looked past Velgath to the corpse-strewn entry hall.

“Do you even have any enemies left?”

At some point in the battle, she couldn’t stand watching Falagrim systematically butcher people any longer, so she retreated to rest in the underway base. When she got up again, he was still at it and it didn’t seem that his bloodthirst wouldn’t be sated until every single invader in the principality had been slain.

“I’m sure there are at least a few somewhere,” Velgath replied. “My father’s in the great hall if that’s who you’re looking for.”

The Dwarf woman straightened from the wall and led Florine further in. Florine stared up at the lifelike granite statues lining the way.

“Who are these people?” She asked.

“Ancestors,” Velgath answered. “They go all the way back to when we settled Khazanar.”

“Do your people venerate their ancestors in some way?”

Perhaps the only redeeming trait of the Dark Dwarves was that they had strong familial bonds...at least until one realised that it was something grounded in practicality rather than any emotional sense. The clan was the mostly-stable foundation upon which every Dark Dwarf built their life in a world where pretty much everyone else was considered an enemy.

“Not really,” Velgath said. “They’re just there. I have no idea who started it.”

Velgath led Florine deeper into the citadel, through a series of bloodspattered grand corridors lined with Dark Dwarves in various states of dismemberment. At the end of them was a huge set of open double doors. Florine’s already-churning stomach took a turn for the worse upon hearing the grunts and moans of pain that accompanied her entrance to the great hall of Clan Felhammer.

To either side of the long carpet leading to the far end, Dark Dwarves were being tortured in a variety of ways, many of which she couldn’t understand but horrified her nonetheless. She did her best to keep her gaze away from them as she made her way to the foot of the throne of dark granite at the head of the hall.

“Prince Felhammer,” she lowered her head in a curtsey. “Congratulations on your successful reconquest of Felhammer Citadel.”

“I’m sure you already knew that it was simply a matter of time,” the prince replied. “A state room has been prepared for you. I hope you don’t mind the smell.”

She wasn’t sure if there was any point in asking about it. Her eyes left the throne, going over to the bodies of two brutally tortured Dark Dwarves beside it. Were they trophies that he simply wanted to look down at now and then? Since Dark Dwarves considered slavery a ‘craft’, maybe they considered torture one, as well.

“My wife, Baerwynn,” he answered her unspoken question. “And my son, Uldun. They were already dead when I arrived – the head of the council forces had them on display as trophies.”

Despite Falagrim being such a horrible person, a pang of sympathy twisted Florine’s insides. She looked away from the bodies with teary eyes.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Prince Felhammer.”

“Huh? What are you talking about? This saves me the trouble of going looking for them.”

Florine blinked, turning a blank expression up at the prince.

“We have this convenient thing called resurrection magic,” he told her. “You may have heard of it.”

“Oh.”

Stupid me worrying about stupid him.

A particularly loud scream to the side sent her stomach back to its previously queasy state.

“Might I know what your plans for the near future are, Your Highness?” She swallowed, “I’d like to take this opportunity to remind you that the leased Undead cannot be used for expansionary objectives.”

“I’m well aware,” the Dwarf Lord replied. “Grimmantle can burn for as long as they like. I don’t intend on lifting a finger to help them.”Visitt novelbin(.)co/m for the latest updates

“...burn?”

Prince Felhammer cast a dubious look at her.

“Did you somehow not notice the entire northern horizon on fire?”

“No, Your Highness.”

The range of her Darkvision item was only twenty metres, so she had to be continuously alert for things that came into sight so she could react to them in time. She had lost count of the number of times she had nearly been run over by something in Khazanar.

“Well, now you do,” the prince said. “I was going to say that it wasn’t us sending the Undead against them.”

“Then who is responsible?”

“Could be a few things. Those armies the council sent over came from somewhere. Starting trouble while they’re away from home is common sense for anyone that’s aiming to weaken their rivals’ positions.”

“I assumed that the council would have measures in place to ensure that something like this wouldn’t happen to the participants.”

“Technically, they do,” Prince Felhammer shrugged. “But a law is only as effective as the ability to enforce it.”

And the ability of the council to enforce its laws was contingent on the martial power and political will of its members.

It was much like Re-Estize, in certain key aspects. The power of the crown rested in the contributions of its vassals, and the power of those vassals rested in the contributions of their vassals. This led to a system of checks and balances where the crown and the aristocratic elite were held accountable by the will of the establishment, but the concept of fostering mutually beneficial relationships between principalities or just playing nice didn’t seem to exist in Dark Dwarf society. The Council of Khazanar was merely a tool that every clan sought to gain influence over to further their own ends.

“So now that Clan Felhammer has definitively proven that the council cannot enforce its will upon it, what happens?”

“Good question,” Prince Felhammer said. “They’ll be sour about getting thrashed for a few centuries, at least, so I figure that Clan Felhammer will exist independently from the rest of Khazanar...and that’s a good thing, as far as your goals are concerned.”

“How so?”

“First of all, since the council is no longer capable of suppressing Clan Felhammer’s activities, it means that we don’t have to trade in slaves anymore. I believe that’s something you were pushing for.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Florine nodded. “But isn’t your economy dependent on slaves?”

“What gave you that idea?” The prince frowned, “Well, that’s beside the point anyway. Since the council’s interference is no longer a thing, we can go back to raiding the surrounding region for slaves. The restoration of our sphere of influence will also mean increased demand for your Undead security forces, so I’m sure your superiors will be pleased with the developments.”

“...I see.”

Florine had no doubt that he was correct. Prince Felhammer was undoubtedly a ‘Lord’ with his demonstrated degree of acumen as a ruler. All he did was occasionally interact with Florine and read over the Sorcerous Kingdom’s laws to develop a good enough sense of the Sorcerous Kingdom that he could predict how they would react to his activities.

The Sorcerous Kingdom’s Royal Court would consider their new relationship with Clan Felhammer a success both in the sense that they were a new outlet for Undead security forces and the promising new economic ties that they represented. It didn’t matter that the goods being traded were in part or in whole the product of slave labour. The low-maintenance relationship was one where the Sorcerous Kingdom stood to gain on every front, as far as they knew.

A collection of steps sounded from behind them, and Florine looked over her shoulder to find Agni accompanied by what appeared to be a pair of religious attendants. They were garbed in dark vestments with unfamiliar iconography and one of them carried a black metal casket between his hands.

“My prince,” Agni said, “we’ve made our preparations.”

“Get on with it,” Prince Felhammer said.

Agni turned and lifted the lid of the casket, which was filled with glittering diamonds. She grabbed a fistful of them and dumped them on Baerwynn’s corpse.

“「Raise Dead」.”

Most of the diamonds dematerialised. While the horrific wounds left by Baerwynn’s torture mended themselves, Agni leaned forward to pick up the few diamonds that hadn’t disappeared, tossing them back into the casket.

Eh?

Surely that wasn’t it.

Baerwynn’s eyes popped open.

“You’re late,” she said.

“I don’t recall saying that I’d come around at all,” Prince Felhammer replied.

The Dwarf woman sat up, peering around the great hall.

“Does the council have so many armies at its disposal that it can attack both Felhammer and Grimmantle?”

“They had way more than we expected, that’s for sure. But with a good portion of Grimmantle’s forces here, the council would need fewer people to attack Grimmantle than Felhammer. They may have just sent a bunch of heroes to mess the place up, considering it sounded like they just found out. Moving an army would take far longer.”

“But what would they betray Khazanar for?” Florine frowned. “Clan Felhammer claims self-defence, but I don’t know enough about the other clans to figure out why Grimmantle would do something like that.”

“They think that Grimmantle sold Khazanar out to the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

Florine turned her gaze from the arrow slit to stare incredulously at Velgath. The Dwarf woman’s eyes gleamed as a sadistic smile crept onto her expression.

“They thought that the Undead were let into Khazanar by Grimmantle,” Velgath told her. “They also believe that Grimmantle sent scouts and commanders to coordinate them. Everything that we did, they pinned on Grimmantle. To be fair, it was a rational conclusion given the information that they had to work with.”

“...are your people familiar with the concept of confirming information before acting upon it?”

“And how would they do that?” Velgath asked, “Wait two weeks while a runner is sent to your office in the Abelion Hills to confirm that your Death Knights are butchering everyone in Khazanar at the behest of Grimmantle? Not that the runner would have anyone to report to by the time they got back.”

Ugh, why does the world have to be like this?

In addition to how readily misapprehensions, misinformation, and malicious rumours could spread, it was shockingly easy to forget just how slow communications and logistics were outside of the Sorcerous Kingdom.

A country could go through a short war before refugees from said country brought word of its plight to the country right next to it. News wasn’t guaranteed to travel anywhere at all, and, even if it did, it wasn’t guaranteed to be accurate. More often than not, it was the Merchant Guild that was the first to carry what was considered trustworthy information from one country to another, as it tended to operate on purely commercial motives.

Once her ‘office’ was set up, they left the state room to begin their tour of the city below. On the way out of the entry hall, however, they crossed paths with Loar, who was on his way in.

“What did you find out?” Velgath asked.

The Dark Dwarf Ranger answered with a jerk of his head, gesturing to the hall ahead of him with his beard. Florine and Velgath fell into step behind him as he made his way to the great hall.

“Your people don’t seem to be much for social decorum,” Florine said. “Replying to a sovereign’s daughter like that would be unthinkable in Human society.”

“Huh? Why’s that?”

“Because they’re the sovereign’s daughter? Never mind a sovereign, even the children of a minor aristocrat wouldn’t experience that sort of treatment.”

“I still don’t get it,” Velgath said.

Florine glanced at Velgath out of the corner of her eye.

“Because pointlessly antagonising those who wield power isn’t prudent,” Florine said.

“I get that much,” Velgath said. “But why would it matter any more for the child of an aristocrat than it would anyone else?”

“Because, for instance, if one angers the son of an aristocrat, that anger may be turned against them when the son becomes the head of the house, if not sooner. It doesn’t even have to be an aristocrat, to be honest. A workshop employee won’t risk angering the children of the workshop owner out of fear of being dismissed, nor would an artisan cross the children of their guildmaster.”

“So you’re saying that Humans don’t cross the kids of Humans in charge because their kids eventually become the boss...are you implying that kids inherit the clan or business or whatever just because they’re the kid of the last person in charge?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Florine replied.

Velgath shook her head in disgust.

“...is that not how it works here?” Florine asked.

“It’s not how it works in any place that has the slightest bit of good sense,” Velgath answered. “So, if some Human kid is an utter fool, they still get to be in charge if they’re the kid of the person in charge?”

“Well, any fief or organisation isn’t run by just one person, but that’s the general idea.”

The Dwarf woman scoffed.

“Hey Loar, can you imagine getting stuck under some idiot for four hundred years?”

“I’d move to Hardar if that happened,” Loar replied.

“Then how does the matter of succession handled in Khazanar?” Florine asked.

“The clan votes on the next leader,” Velgath said. “And the next leader is voted in because they’re deemed the most qualified to lead the clan in its present circumstances.”

“But didn’t your mother rule in your father’s stead?”

“My mother ruled because she was voted in after my father was exiled. My father married my mother because she was the most qualified woman to help him rule.”

“Is it like that for everything here?”

“Of course it is,” Velgath told her. “Look, I figure that you Humans do it the way you do because you think that breeding matters. You’re not wrong, but breeding isn’t consistent. That’s why any society that has any idea what they’re doing has a large pool of candidates to select the best possible person in any given generation. It drastically mitigates the likelihood of one idiot burning the entire civilisation to the ground.”

“Humanoid leadership is so complicated,” Boobeebee sighed.

“Don’t you suffer attrition from competition between candidates? If Humans used a system like that, it wouldn’t be uncommon for factions to throw their resources into undermining one another to secure coveted positions instead of focusing on managing their holdings well. At worst, one would see assassinations and destructive interference would spill over into broader society.”

“Picking off competent people is something you do to your enemies. Only short-sighted idiots do it to themselves. Hmm...since Humans only live for three years or something, I suppose it can’t be helped that you think that way.”

The aroma of burnt hair and roasted meat wafted out to greet them before they entered the great hall of Felhammer Citadel. Roughly a third of the Dwarves being tortured were being replaced with fresh ones. Those who had died lay in plain view of the instruments that they had succumbed to.

“My prince,” Loar saluted at the foot of the dark throne. “The first set of scouts have returned from Grimmantle with their reports.”

“Let’s hear it,” Prince Felhammer said.

“It’s not just Grimmantle,” the Dark Dwarf Ranger said. “Axehold, Shadowforge, Darksteel, and Gloomgranite are burning, as well. We flew scouts further out to see what’s going on in the rest of Khazanar.”

Prince Felhammer leaned back on his throne, crossing his arms with a hmph.

“Did everyone just conveniently decide to turn on one another at the same time?”

“No,” Loar shook his head. “As far as we can tell, it’s an invasion. Going by some of the races that we spotted, the invaders are from the Middle Realms.”

Low, pained laughter rose from one of the tortured Dark Dwarves nearby.

“Enjoy your victory while you can, Felhammer. You’ll be dead along with the rest of us, soon.”

“Seems my first guess about why that council army was so damn huge was right on the mark,” Prince Felhammer said. “Tell us what you know, Dirgehall.”

“Up yours, traitor!”

“Your lack of communication was what caused Felhammer to turn on you in the first place,” Florine said. “Shouldn’t you have shared what you knew about this invasion?”

“Why, so they could stab us in the back at the opportune time? You picked the wrong clan to side with, overlander!”

“Falaboi!”

Daergor burst into the great hall, stopping after two steps.

“Oh, looks like Loar beat me to it,” he said.

“That depends on what you have to say,” Prince Felhammer said.

The red-bearded Dwarf Lord strolled up to the dais.

“Khazanar’s under attack by a Gazer hive.”

“Then Loar didn’t beat you to it,” Prince Felhammer replied. “How many principalities are under attack?”

“Every single damn one,” Daergor said. “They’re getting their asses handed to them.”

Prince Felhammer raised a gauntleted hand to stroke his beard thoughtfully.

“I suppose I should fill out another order form,” he said after a moment. “Can the Sorcerous Kingdom deliver more Undead just as quickly as before?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Florine replied.

“Good,” Prince Felhammer said, then turned to the officers attending him to the side. “Put Felhammer on high alert. Incorporate the Undead into our defence scheme and prioritise readying our anti-air defences. Update the forces cleaning up Hardar, as well. I don’t want those damn things popping out of the tunnels there.”

“Will you be deploying forces to aid Khazanar?” Florine asked.

While she couldn’t rejoice at the turn of events, it did at least provide an opportunity for the Dark Dwarves to band together in common cause and reconcile their past grievances.

“Of course not,” Prince Felhammer snorted. “They deserve everything that’s happening to them. Please do enjoy your tour of the capital while we await their eradication.”