When the E’sh - the myriad house and clans of the mountains - ruled supreme, Alberich and Mime were born into the bottom-feeding Lan-Noa. They knew not of their father and mother as children ought to have known them. No - they were assets, and commodities, before they were people. By the ages of seven and five, both boys had been pinwheeled about the clan with such frequency that the concept of a ‘family’ was alien to them.
It was only in one-another that they discovered a reason to persevere through the Lan-Noa’s generational poverty. Every gold piece they earned was tucked away, hidden from sight; pooled in the darkness which would one day contribute to their ascension through the lamplit caverns. When the scourge of Dragons befell their home, the E’sh would conjoin to form a singular body of government, and it was from the smouldering flames of the decades-long conflict that an age of peace was restored - and within which the ambitions of Alberich and Mime would be tempered.
When the time came to decide upon the nation’s ruler, there was no greater opportunity to prove their worth. A combination of youthful foolishness and poignant death-seeking soon saw them as the only two Dwarves willing to pit themselves against one of the war’s surviving Greatwyrms - the Amber Drake. So it went, the man who landed the killing blow against that beast would be named king unconditionally and irrefutably. The two of them plunged into the depths the very next day, their hearts aflame with the miracle of opportunity.
Alberich could replay the scene in his head perfectly. On many nights, he wasn’t given a choice in the matter. He recalled the heat most of all - the Amber Dragon’s ember-thick breath radiating down on the two of them like a burning forge. It was only then, as a far younger, far more foolish man, that he learned the definition of fear.
The wyrm’s pride saved them from early graves. They hopped along the precarious ledges while the Dragon teased their deaths and revelled at the sight of their innocent determination like a cat toying with helpless mice. It was when they found solid ground that the battle began in earnest.
For two hours they struggled, diving behind boulders to avoid the Dragon’s devouring fire and dropping to their bellies as its talons swept across the battlefield. Alberich was a mere crossbowman, and thought himself rather intelligent for bringing along more bolts than he would ever need, only to discover that no amount of projectiles would be useful against a creature whose luminous scales deflected every attack.
And yet, compensating for his own cowardice, Mime stood firm against the Dragon’s assault. Through broken bones, he suffered blows that could have turned forests into meadows, preferring death to the idea of returning to he and his brother’s meagre beginnings. His resilience in the face of oblivion allowed Alberich - in a gambit equal parts desperate and fearful - to land a critical blow against the beast’s exposed heart.
From there, the hours passed like seconds. By the next day, he had been crowned king - selected to be the sole individual who would preserve the alliance wrought by the Amber Dragon’s wrath. Over the years that ensued, his reserved nature metamorphosed into arrogance, sculpted by the expectations and responsibilities of his position. But even when Mime joined his side, the guilt of that day - the true unworthiness of his claim - never faded.
Today was to be the day when he would make amends for that cruel twist of fate. In one manner or another, the Order would be his end, and Mime would finally take his rightful place as king of the Dwarves.
“But… it seems that dream is also fated to end in tragedy.” He muttered, “Mime… you cannot leave me with this responsibility. You are the tether that connects me to this cruel world. The burden of my soul is only lifted when the two of us are fighting together!”
Mime stood, struggling under the weight of his own armour. Under the wounded grill of his faceplate, a coagulated veneer of blood - composed of both his own and that of his enemies - made it difficult to ascertain the depth of his expression.
“I’m not dead yet, brother…” He paused, “My flame flickers, but yours continues to burn in the face of defeat. You dread yourself more than anyone else, Alberich. In you, I see a man who has taken on the burden of uniting this country - a man who its people were willing to die for even when their chances of victory disappeared over the horizon.”
“But it was all for naught!” Alberich took him by the shoulders, “I failed them! I named myself their king, and yet I failed them! You are all I have left to remind me that there is still something worth fighting for!”
“Hah… is that what you believe?” Mime closed his eyes, “Am I the only one who makes this world worth bearing? Or is it that you cling to me for fear of facing it all on your own? To fight for someone’s sake - that is a simple goal, but one which sows the seeds of tragedy. A leader must learn to fight for something intangible, but immortal. Not family, not ideals, not nations, but for the mere beauty of the world and its preservation.”
“Do you see?” Alberich took a step back, “Only you could say something like that, Mime.”
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“Is that so…?” He wondered, “Am I really so infallible? You always did rely on me when we were children, didn’t you? That remnant of your youth… it’s the only thing holding you back, Alberich. You’ve already surpassed me. Why else would I feel so content with my lot in life?”
“Mime…”
“Alright, you two.”
A voice dissolved their realm of solitude, and the roaring heat of the magma chamber was suddenly unbearable again. No amount of brotherly love could distract from the horde of moaning undead surrounding them, or from the snow-haired arbiter of their end perched atop her vicious mount.
“Lieze Sokalar…” Alberich muttered, “Do you intend to kill us with anticipation?”
“Those who live are one day claimed by the earth. Those who struggle shall find themselves weeping and bawling as the void cages their spirit, whereas those prepared and acceptant of their end shall die at peace, painlessly, and without regrets.” She recounted, “You may call me evil. You would be correct for doing so. But the Order’s intention has never been to break the spirits of those who oppose us - only those who violently deny our way.”
“What other choice is there than to eradicate your kind?” Mime asked, “The beauty of life is too great a gift to sacrifice, no matter how legitimate your spiritual utopia may be. You are the spawn of hateful dogma, whose ambitions begin and end with suffering. No matter your ideals, those of us blessed with life shall oppose your way to the bitter end.”
“Yes…” Lieze paused, “All of that and more. Your every word is true. Perhaps a reality subsumed by darkness and left to fester within an eternity of quiet can only be entertained by our cursed fold. But the future is not so fickle as to change by measure of hope alone. Forces greater than us, and yet dependent on us, rely on the faith of life-cursed fools to shape the world as they please. The Blackbriar, the Gildwyrm, the God of Many Faces, the Spring of Immortality - these are my enemies, not the everlasting spirits of man.”
Alberich scoffed, “Madness of the purest sort. In this world where the power of Gods is as plentiful as running water, you seek to oppose a force of nature rather than the injustices of those around you? A warrior may be strong, but he will never fell a mountain. An archer may be precise, but he will never loose an arrow ferocious enough to blot out the sun. And yet, despite this, you speak of facing down the very Gods as if they would even acknowledge your challenge.”
“The paradise of spirituality once sought by my Order, like the enduring legacy of your nation, was nothing but a dream.” Lieze replied, “I no longer seek paradise. I seek oblivion. And the power of the Scions will carve a path towards that distant future no matter how impossible it seems. Deride me, insult me, question me - nothing can change the truth I have discovered or lead me astray from this destiny.”
She brought herself towards the Manticore’s head, which lowered obediently to support her.
“Against every expectation, you’ve proven to be a more respectable leader than the slithering monarchs of the Sovereign Cities, Alberich.” She continued, “-But to realise my own dream, which eclipses the scope of any other, you and your brother must die. I allowed you a moment of peace to rekindle the flame of human experience, but my patience can bear no more of this.”
Alberich swept his gaze across the glazed horde of undead surrounding him. He had no reason to fear them, invulnerable as he was, but the reality of his brother’s imminent death filled him with dread. In order to fulfil the responsibility of a king, he would need to step beyond that dread. Mime had said so himself - if he could not let go of a decades-long tragedy, it would drag him unwillingly into the void of death.
“...Mime.” He said, “I’m sorry. For not realising sooner.”
“Hah…” A puckered smirk, full of exhaustion, formed on his brother’s face, “I don’t need an apology. I only need your word. However hopeless or desperate, seeing you uninhibited by grief for the first time is all I require to die a worthwhile death.”
The encirclement of thralls tightened around them. Alberich had seconds to make his final decision. For the first time in his life, he chose himself over the wellbeing of his dear brother, charging towards the nearest Gravewalker without a single thought dedicated to his wellbeing.
In an instant, Mime was overrun, covered in a sphere of thrashing limbs. Lieze witnessed the final moments of his life hidden behind a curtain of flesh, neither particularly hopeful nor pitiful.
Alberich, on the other hand, was brimmed with zeal thanks to his brother’s final gift, launching blows packed with enough force to shatter skulls with a glance while even the fiercest swings and chomps from Lieze’s thralls failed to penetrate the splendour of his enchanted armour.
Quest ‘The Brother’ Complete! Reward - 12,000xp
She dismissed the notification with a nod. Despite Alberich’s newfound strength, his battle cries were tainted with an air of impenetrable sorrow. He understood well that no amount of stamina, strength, or durability was capable of hewing an army of well over 5,000 thralls. Had he fallen into madness, she wondered? Or, as Mime said, had he learned to fight not for an individual or abstraction, but for the sake of life’s beauty?
She couldn’t know for certain. All she did know was that her victory was only a matter of time. She didn’t mourn the loss of her minions, no matter how brutally they were dispatched, knowing that in time, her forces would surge tenfold. Every living participant of the battle - Drayya, Lüngen, Marché, Roland, Baccharum; even Lieze herself, refused to peel their eyes away from the Dwarves’ final and most spectacular act of rebellion.