Alberich resisted the urge to grimace as the azure solution dripped down his gullet. His mind expanded, shrank, then seemed as though it had disappeared altogether. The intrinsic connection between mortals and Gods was returned to him - that unknowable phenomenon of ‘mana’ which surged faith and shouldered nations.
The doors to his private chamber were thrown open, and for a moment, he considered reaching for his warhammer. But the man who wandered in couldn’t have settled his heart any better. “Mime!” Alberich set the empty flask down on a chest of drawers, “You’re wearing a face that tells me nothing good is about to be shared. What happened?”
“Hm.” Despite his frown, Mime sounded amused by his own words, “That Baccharum… I struck him with all my might, and yet he ended up with nothing more than a bruise. If it wasn’t for him, I might have wiped two of those necromancers from the face of our city.”
“Our first mistake was allowing a Star-Eater through the border!” Alberich thumped his chest of rugged steel, “You’re still alive. That’s all that matters. With the two of us at this nation’s helm, no amount of treachery can overcome the mountains’ fury! Come with me to the throne room.”
The plates of their armour bounced from the walls as the two men shuffled through the fort’s decorated halls. Ash-grey banners depicting silhouettes of Alberich’s face caught motes of crimson in their folds where light from the magma chamber poured in from the barred windows.
Soldiers sprinted this way and that, barking orders to their subordinates like disobedient dogs. Mime could spot the distant cliffs connected to the mountain proper, where ballistae were scouring the chamber for any sign of necromancers. The throne room was empty, which was a supreme rarity. A pair of repurposed dining tables had been shoved into the hall, cloths half-stripped and billowing, held in place by strange contraptions lingering on their surfaces.
“You remember the prototypes from years ago, don’t you?” Alberich asked.
“-Of those electrical devices?” Mime raised an eyebrow, “The ones that burned anyone who held them to a crisp? It’s difficult to forget the smell of burning flesh.”
“Yes, well - those engineers gave their lives in the pursuit of greatness. They should have been grateful for the opportunity.” He waved his hand, “That’s not the point! Our lightning sculptors were months away from perfecting the design, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”
The device on the table looked like a giant tuning fork, albeit cursed with colourful wiring and sheets of not-quite fitted rubber. Mime had a mind to stop his brother when he took one of the contraptions in both hands, but he relented knowing that there was no stopping Alberich once he had made up his mind.
“I’m loath to rely on magic of all things to see the Order destroyed…” He fiddled with a cluster of latches and switches, “For as long as there have been scholars to chronicle our exploits, fire and metal have been our only allies. In consorting with mages, we run the risk of abandoning our roots. But for the sake of the Way, any and all tactics must be levied against these deplorable corpse-fuckers.”
He pointed the forked weapon towards the table and pressed his thumb against a button on the shaft. Mime held up a hand to cover his face as a flash of lightning consumed the throne room in a righteous light. He could feel the hairs on his arm standing up, prickling with static activity. Strings of smoke wafted from the dining table’s surface, where a fractal scorch mark had stretched across the surface.
“With holy light and the heaven’s fire close at hand, we couldn’t be better-equipped to swat these troublesome fleas.” Alberich grinned, exposing his yellowed teeth, “We already have a hundred of these lightning rods in stock, with many more on their way from the workshops. They may think of us as being on the back foot, but the Order has failed to recognise the ferociousness of a cornered beast.”
Mime couldn’t argue with results, but his melancholic temperament forced him to find fault with the gadget nonetheless. “And how safe are these devices?” He wondered aloud, “If the final stages of production were rushed, then who’s to say there isn’t some critical fault with the design?”
“Silence! You have no tolerance for risk, Mime!” Alberich’s face glowed with fury, but in the presence of his dear brother, the emotion passed quickly, “...Even if your fears are well-founded, we don’t have a choice in the matter. Every second we waste here is another we could be using to push the Order back. There will be casualties either way - best to create them on our own terms than those of the necromancers.”
Mime felt the need to oppose him, but all he could manage in the end was a tired sigh, “I would rather we avoided casualties altogether.”
“I know.” Recognition flickered in Alberich’s eyes, “Only you and I can perceive the sorrow necessary to lead this chaotic nation, Mime. Indeed, if circumstances had unravelled differently, perhaps it may have been you-”
“I don’t busy myself with thoughts of a different future.” Mime interrupted, “The Gods have chosen you, Alberich, and only you, to lead this nation. I wouldn’t have deprived a commoner of that right, never mind my own brother.
In public, the Dwarven king was nothing less than a living deity to his people. Alberich’s penchant for overconfidence and ego had earned him just as many detractors as it had supporters, but the rallying effect of his presence couldn’t be understated. But then there was the man beneath, whose words could be so surprisingly tender that Mime couldn’t help but wonder how much of his image was the result of careful discipline.
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
On that day - that fateful, quickening day - he had exposed to Mime a layer of worthiness that superseded any promise of honour or sovereignty. If nothing else, Mime was certain that the divine arbiter of their confrontation with the Amber Dragon had made the correct decision.
“It cools my boiling blood to hear those words.” Alberich said, “Like the mountains themselves, our fury shall simmer in the depths until the world is consumed by fire. This day shall number among Dwarvenkind’s greatest - the day when two brothers exterminated the seekers of fate’s end!”
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New Quest Received! ‘Extermination’ - Murder at least 99.88% of the mountains’ inhabitants. Current Progress - 12.28% Reward - 12,000xp
Lieze wiped the sweat from her brow, “How does anyone live in this heat…?”
“Humans are acclimated to the overcast midlands, where summers and winters rarely dip into unbearable temperatures.” A husky voice replied, “Comparatively, Dwarves have developed additional sweat glands to aid in the regulation of their body temperature, allowing them to prosper safely within the extraordinary temperatures of-”
“I don’t recall asking for a biology lecture.” Lieze interrupted, “How do you even recall any of this? I didn’t go through the trouble of raising a corpse only to find that it still retains some of its life-cursed knowledge.”
“Overly intelligent thralls are capable of referencing memories from their past lives.” The Skeletal Necromancer replied, “Intact brains in the early stages of necrosis are especially proficient in this regard. When decay begins to set in, an intelligent thrall will eventually-”
“Remove your jawbone.”
Without a word of protest, the thrall wrapped one hand around its lower mouth and yanked its own jawbone out, causing cavity-ridden teeth to dislodge and clatter against the floor like glass snowdrops. Then, there was nothing but silence.
“According to Lüngen’s maps, there should be a series of workshops in the depths of the mountain. Most Dwarves work in smithing or brewing or some such industry, so with all of the infrastructure down there, I imagine that’s where we’ll find most of the evacuated civilians.”
A hissing crept up from the Skeletal Necromancer’s throat. Lieze grabbed the jawbone from its grip and tossed it to the ground, “I want Briarknights taking point in these tunnels. Hide our Dark Casters in the middle and pad our back line with Gravewalkers to reduce losses if we’re attacked from behind.”
With its ability to speak compromised, the Skeletal Necromancer offered a resolute nod in response. A Deathguard approached as it wandered away, hands fidgeting and nervous, “Um… Master Sokalar?”
“It’s ‘Lieze’.” She asserted, “Don’t make that mistake again. What do you want?”
“Well… with regards to the size of these tunnels, some of the other Deathguards have requested to be stationed in several choke points to await an inevitable ambush from the Dwarves. It would prevent you from having to accommodate for the possibility on your way to the workshops…”
Lieze shook her head, “This city is like a maze. It’s not practical to assume that we can outmanoeuvre any ambush, especially when we’re on the enemy’s home turf. If we split off into smaller shards, it will only present an opportunity to the Dwarves.”
“Of course, under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t question your wisdom, but we’ve been receiving reports from Drayya and Lüngen’s groups that major passageways have caved in, forcing them to take side paths. If we congested some of those smaller tunnels with thralls, then…”
“-Then the Dwarves would have no choice but to waste time and manpower forcing their way through.” Lieze closed her eyes in thought, “I understand the logic… that doesn’t sound like a bad idea. If I place you in charge of organising these blockades, will you be able to use Lüngen’s maps to their full extent? If you execute the idea poorly, we’ll be sacrificing a great deal.”
“I-I can do it!” The Deathguard’s eyes lit up, “I helped master Lüngen collect those maps during our research in Tonberg, so I remember them well! I’ll make sure none of the Dwarves in the Royal Delve are allowed to break through!”
“I’ll trust you with setting everything up, in that case.” She nodded, “Don’t betray my expectations.”
Entrusting a subordinate with such a sensitive matter would have been beyond Sokalar’s pride. Lieze wondered if her decision to allow it was affected by her desire to eclipse his presence within the Order. An abundance of fear and lack of independence had left its members starving for the chance to prove themselves. Satisfying those desires would only solidify Lieze’s position as a dependable leader.
Once the Deathguards in question had split off from the group, Lieze checked her own map and considered her next move. The yellowed illustration of the Dwarven Mountains looked more like a dungeon than a city, with plenty of dead ends, loops, and layers to lose oneself in. She scoured the papers until her own position could be deciphered, drawing a line from her finger around the subterranean passageways and tapping it against the cavernous workshops hidden in the south-eastern corner.
“Civilians, war machines, magical items, supplies… there’s a great bounty to be unearthed from those workshops.” She muttered, “We’ll butcher our way through these caverns, transforming our enemy’s losses into our own gains, before forcing our way through the Royal Delve and taking Alberich’s head… along with his God-given power.”
In the meantime, Lieze entertained herself with the progress of her newest quest, checking in
every minute or two to see the mountains’ population falling in real time.
12.28%
12.34%
12.41%