As they walked toward Zogmar’s workshop, Justin thought it a good opportunity to ask their guide some questions.
“Borgruk,” Justin asked, “You said Glamshara left before the poison was discovered. This would have been during this Feast of Fates?”
Borgruk didn’t turn but answered swiftly. “That’s right. She left six days ago, before the feast was even finished. That was days before Princess Nyrissa even showed signs of being poisoned.”
“And no one has gone after her?” Bohemond asked. “Unbelievable.”
“You heard it up there,” Borgruk said. “This poison works slowly. No one even knew it was poison until Zogmar tested her blood this morning. Besides that, no one’s eager to go into the Underdeep. It’s not just Glamshara. The constructs that guard those ruins…well, you’d be lucky to come back in one piece. It’s the perfect place to flee if you’re trying to cover your tracks.”
Kargan’s brow furrowed. “She’s strong enough to survive down there?”
Borgruk snorted. “She’s cunning. Plus, with full access to the dwarven alchemical lab, she’s like a grub in the root cellar. She has access to a lot of rare ingredients down there. A lot of things to defend herself with. Before we deal with something like that, we need to be prepared.”
“Do you think she’ll react with hostility?” Justin asked. “I would think she’s more interested in trying to prove her innocence.”
“Hard to say,” Borgruk said. “Only time will tell.”
Bohemond, who had been quiet thus far, suddenly spoke up. “She sounds guilty to me. Fleeing right after her niece was poisoned? What more proof do we need?”
Borgruk glanced at him, nodding. “Exactly. She’s had her eye on the throne for a long time. If Nyrissa dies, Glamshara’s next in line. Simple as that. She just didn’t think she’d get caught. We are lucky Zogmar detected the poison, even if he doesn’t know how to cure it.”
Bohemond grunted in agreement. If the Knight was to bond with the goblin over something, it seemed fitting that it would be a mutual suspicion.
At last, they arrived at Zogmar’s workshop. It was a cluttered space, stone shelves overflowing with vials, strange plants, and oddly shaped containers. Various alchemical instruments—glass tubes, brass measuring devices, and burners—were scattered haphazardly across a wide stone table that dominated the center of the room. The air smelled of burned herbs and something faintly acidic.
Zogmar himself was a hunched goblin with an eyepatch over his left eye. His remaining eye was bright and piercing, watching them as they entered. He took a break from his stirring of a mixture in a small flask.
“Zogmar,” Borgruk said, “this is Kargan the Blood Warden. He and his companions are here by the Queen’s order. They're helping us bring Glamshara to justice.”
Zogmar turned, his voice crackling with age but also enthusiasm. “Ah, good! About time. Everyone’s too scared to go into the Underdeep to apprehend her. But my guess is she’s already dead. All those dwarven contraptions probably got to her first!”
Justin couldn’t help but feel that Zogmar sounded gleeful at the thought of Glamshara’s potential demise. “What can you tell us about the poison?”
Zogmar grunted, reaching for a worn leather book from a cluttered shelf. “The symptoms point to Shadow’s Kiss.” He flipped through pages filled with strange symbols and diagrams. “A very rare poison. It kills slowly. It’s a thing you use when you truly hate someone and want them to suffer.”
Justin considered this. This pointed the murderer to being to someone quite close to the Queen, someone who hated her enough to want to watch her suffer. Given Glamshara’s storied history with he Queen, it seemed she fit the bill in that way.
Zogmar’s fingers traced a drawing of a twisted violet plant. “The first ingredient is Gloom Lotus. It’s common enough in the caverns of Drakendir. A strong sedative, but not lethal on its own. A bit of at night will give you deep slumber, while a smaller dose will loosen your tongue and give you a burst of confidence.”
Next, he turned the page, showing them an illustration of a dried desert flower. “The second ingredient, Sandbloom, can only be found in the deserts of Farun in the south of Serenthel. Nearly impossible to acquire here. But the dwarves had some in stock at the excavation site.”
Finally, Zogmar showed them a beautiful blue bloom, its petals in the shape of a five-pointed star, glowing faintly. “And the last ingredient, Starflower. It’s found only in the foothills of the Western Seraphims, in the north of Daeloria. Not hard to acquire, so it could have come from anyone's stocks, really.”
The name sparked something in Justin’s memory. He remembered the song Lila had sung when they left Mistwatch, a song about Elara. The tune had mentioned starflowers. It was a fleeting connection, but it tugged at him.
Justin studied the images, his mind racing. “Glamshara could have gotten the Gloom Lotus from here, along with the Starflower. But from what you're telling me, there’s no way she could have gotten the Sandbloom except from the excavation site. Correct?"
Zogmar’s good eye gleamed with satisfaction. “Exactly. She was particularly excited about the Sandbloom essence. It’s a very potent poison, you see."
“And progress on an antidote?” Kargan asked.
Zogmar’s expression darkened. “Nothing yet. Most poisons have antidotes, of course. But a rare poison like Shadow’s Kiss requires rare ingredients to counteract. It’s tricky when there are two poisonous agents that fuse in a single draught. I’m trying, of course, but my skill can only go so far. I’m more known for mixing up medicines for the tribe. Zuldir, too, in a pinch. Glamshara is the one who’s skilled with poisons.”
Kargan crossed his arms. “Anything else we should know?”
Zogmar nodded gravely. “If you’re going after Glamshara, be careful. She’s deadly with her blowgun, and one shot of her poisoned darts will send you to an early grave.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Bohemond said, breaking his silence. “Rest assured, we’ll bring the little gremlin to justice.”
Borgruk stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of his scimitar. “We should get moving.”
They left Zogmar’s workshop, Borgruk leading them toward the back of the throne room where an iron gate loomed, sealing off a dark, wide corridor. Justin assumed this led to the Underdeep itself.
Blocking their path stood a towering goblin, nearly as tall as a human, with dark green skin and broad shoulders that strained against the battered iron armor he wore. A jagged scar cut across his cheek, and yellowed tusks jutted from a mouth twisted into a smirk. He had an air of dominance. To Justin, it seemed this fellow was the goblin equivalent of the alpha male archetype, the Chad of goblins. He was practically brimming with raw testosterone and an overconfidence that made it clear he was used to getting his way.
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The goblin smiled, showing his sharp teeth. Unlike most other goblins, his voice was quite low. “Heading off so soon?”
Borgruk gave him a quick bow. “Warlord Grashuk. To what do we owe this honor?”
“Rise, Captain Borgruk,” Grashuk said, his voice deep and commanding. “I came to wish you and the investigating party well with your hunt. Maybe a neutral party is just what we need to get to the bottom of this.” His gaze lingered on Kargan, then flicked to Justin and Bohemond. “I trust Zogmar warned you about Glamshara’s poisons?”
“He did,” Justin replied. “But we’re professionals.”
Warlord Grashuk chuckled darkly. “Of course. My warriors are brave, but many quail at the thought of facing her. And the constructs that roam the Underdeep? Well, they’ll be just as eager to tear you apart.”
“You’re the Warlord here?” Kargan asked.
“Aye,” Grashuk confirmed. “I am the strongest warrior in the tribe, and I lead all the war parties.” He cast a steady gaze over the group. “May the power of Chaos guide you in the deeps. Glamshara’s guilt runs deep. Remember, if Nyrissa dies, Glamshara inherits the throne. Bring her back for judgment, and you will be handsomely rewarded.”
“Thank you,” Justin said, nodding. “We should get moving.”
“Of course,” Grashuk replied. “If you need anything, ask.”
Justin nodded again, though something about Grashuk’s demeanor unsettled him. Like Zogmar, he seemed very eager to bring this to a quick resolution. Perhaps too eager.
“Let’s go,” Borgruk urged. “It’s already late.”
Justin wondered how Borgruk could tell the time down here, but his body told him it was likely mid-afternoon. He was already tired from the day’s ordeal, but there was still work to be done. They could at least figure things out with Glamshara before returning to get some sleep.
As Borgruk opened the iron gate and they stepped into the shadowed hall beyond, Justin’s mind churned with everything they had learned. So many names, so many motives. Everyone seemed happy to point the finger at Glamshara, and at first glance, she was definitely the prime suspect.
But Zogmar with his knowledge of potions was also of interest. Maybe he was framing Glamshara.
Then there was Grashuk, who had offered a reward for Glamshara’s quick apprehension. That was a bit suspicious.
Zildur, even, was not above suspicion. She was close to the Queen, and could have easily attempted to poison her. There was no motive that Justin could see, though. Not yet.
Justin and the others had neglected to even ask how the poison was even administered. It had happened during the Feast of Fates, given the timing, but he was certain they would learn more.
----------------------------------------
The group followed Borgruk into the winding depths of the Underdeep beneath the palace. The labyrinth of ancient dwarven ruins stretched ahead of them, the narrow corridors twisting and turning in an endless maze of stone. Each footstep echoed, swallowed by the vast silence of the place.
To Justin, this place was downright creepy. From time to time, he caught strange mechanical sounds drifting through the darkness, the distant whirring and clanking of long-dead machines still going, even centuries after the dwarves’ demise. The space was lit with blue crystals, similar to the palace above. The air grew heavier with every step, laden with the musty scent of age and decay. It reminded him a lot of the Highcliff catacombs in that way, but the angles here were sharper, more grid-like, as if the dwarves hadn’t been shy about carving their will into the mountain.
“What must this place have been like back in the day?” he muttered to himself, though loud enough for Kargan and Bohemond to hear.
“A kingdom,” Kargan said, his voice low. “A proud one.”
Bohemond scoffed, glancing at their guide. “A kingdom of rats, now. Devious beings, these goblins are!”
Thankfully, the Knight has said it in Aranthian, but from the way their guide leered at him, he knew it was an insult. Unlike Bohemond, at least he had the grace to bear it. He continued to lead them ahead, his eyes flicking nervously toward the shadows. For now, all was quiet.
After a few moments, Justin risked a question he’d been wondering for a while. “What caused the fall of the dwarves, anyway?”
Borgruk’s shoulders stiffened at the question. His pace faltered slightly, but he didn’t turn to face Justin. “Best not to ask.”
Justin pressed on. “You must know something. This place didn’t just fall into ruin on its own.”
Borgruk stopped abruptly, turning to face Justin with narrowed eyes. “You ask too many questions, human. Some things are better left forgotten. Some things, once named, have a knack for showing up.”
The way Borgruk spoke sent a chill down Justin’s spine. Justin opened his mouth to press further, but before he could speak, Borgruk turned away again, quickening his pace.
The rest of the journey passed in a tense silence, the oppressive atmosphere growing heavier with each step. The deeper they went, the more ancient and crumbling the stone became. Occasionally, they passed through grand halls, their vaulted ceilings lost in shadow.
He spared a thought for the Baron. He was likely parked right outside the Vault, or trying to surround it and secure every exit. From the way the Underdeep was laid out, it seemed there were a lot of potential escape paths. Assuming they survived the trials of the Vault.
At last, after what felt like hours of walking, they reached their destination. The entrance to the excavation site was marked by a massive stone archway, half-collapsed from the weight of centuries.
Borgruk led them over the rubble, his movements nimble. Justin and the rest followed behind, more clumsily.
Once on the other side, Justin found a vast chamber, the walls lined with rows of ancient alchemical equipment. Dusty vials and broken retorts littered the ground, their glass surfaces cracked and worn. Strange machines hummed faintly in the background. Their purpose was lost to time, but they were still functioning on some long-forgotten power source.
The air was thick with the smell of chemicals, sharp and acrid, even after all these years. Justin’s breath caught in his throat as he gazed at the remnants of the lab. The machinery, the vials, the strange, faintly glowing liquids—they all gave him the sense that the dwarves had been playing with forces they couldn’t control.
“What in the Nether were they doing down here?” Kargan muttered, his amber eyes scanning the room.
Borgruk's expression was grim. “Who knows? When you mix potions with Chaos Magic, the results are…unpredictable. When we found this place, I remember Glamshara talking about how they were trying to unlock eternal life or something. How they’d ended up killing themselves in the attempt. But maybe some things are not meant to be unlocked.”
As if on cue, three ghostly sentinels materialized in the chamber before them. Their forms were barely visible, just faint outlines of dwarves wearing flowing robes and bearing ethereal weapons. There was something malevolent about them, something twisted.
“Ghosts?” Bohemond asked, his voice low and tense.
Borgruk nodded. “They were here before, too. Glamshara said their failed potions bound them to this place, even after their bodies died. They exist somewhere halfway between this world and the Nether. It would seem it’s our job to encourage the transition.”
Justin took a step forward, his cane tapping lightly against the stone floor. “And we need to get through them, don’t we?”
Borgruk’s eyes flicked to Justin, then to Kargan and Bohemond. “If you want to find Glamshara, yes.”
A heavy silence fell over the group as they processed Borgruk’s words. The air in the chamber seemed to grow colder as the ghostly figures drifting closer.
“Get ready,” Justin said quietly, his hand tightening around his cane.
Bohemond drew his sword, the blade glinting faintly in the dim light. Justin hoped the Knight’s weapon and armor would be enchanted, which would allow him to attack the ethereal enemies.
Kargan raised his Staff of Aegis, the blue glow of its magic swirling around him. “Stay inside the ward.”
Bohemond moved in front of the party, ready to be the first line of defense.
The first spirit let out a wail and darted forward, ethereal war hammer swinging. It crashed into the ward, which shattered, but not without obliterating the ghost. Bohemond met the second ghost head-on, raising his shield just in time. It flashed red with enchantment.
“For Arion!” the Knight cried.
As Bohemond engaged the first ghost, Justin slipped to the side, his cane striking out. The blow landed on the specter with a flash of yellow magic. It screeched, but still clung on.
Borgruk was already in motion, a whirlwind of iron. His scimitar flashed, cutting through the third ghost with deadly precision, flashing red at the point of impact. The specter howled and flickered before dissipating into nothing. Apparently, his blade was enchanted, too.
Justin focused on the remaining sentinel, his cane dancing fluidly in his hands. He struck again and again, weakening the ghost with each blow. Justin definitely felt the benefits of his Amulet; he was hitting harder than before, moving with steady grace.
The ghost raised its axe, but Justin was quicker, slipping out of range before the weapon could connect. With precision, he extended the hidden blade from the cane’s tip and pierced its core. The ghost flickered violently, its form unstable, before dissolving into vapor.
“Well, that was easy,” Justin said, allowing himself a moment of satisfaction.
But from the shadows, a soothing, female voice interrupted. “Oh, you think so?”
Justin spun, cane raised. At the far end of the chamber, a figure emerged—Glamshara.