The walls of the bastion went all the way to the ceiling of the chamber, tons of rocks and stone carved with the history of Khazur, depictions of their forefathers and their battles with the creatures of the depth filling half of it. They had an extensive history that I just now realised I barely knew.

Although simple, the design was anything but easy, showcasing the history with intricate carvings and inlays that I would struggle to replicate even if I had years to train.

The huge gates swung open, revealing a red carpeted hallway, mosaic landscapes decorating the walls.

A dozen guards lined the hallway, guarding doors into more hallways or rooms. The intricate architecture made the closed rooms feel open and inviting.

We got led past the guards but the gate guard stopped us before he opened the doors to the throne room.

“You better get off of your mount when meeting royalty,” he said. “You aren't supposed to be higher up than the reigning king.”

“Right, right.”

We dismounted, Rachel checking us over once before nodding to the guard.

The doors swung open to reveal a lavishing throne room, the red carpet leading up to a throne made out of solid gold, decorated with thousands of gems. A trick of the light lighting the entire room from behind the throne and drawing your attention to it and the tapestry woven with threads of precious metals.

Along the sides of the throne room, massive pillars rose, each carved with symbols of prosperity and strength. The ceiling, high above, was a canvas of enchanted murals depicting the forging of the first enchanted weapons and the great victories of the forefathers.

Seated atop the golden throne was the current ruler of Khazur, their presence commanding the room.

Clad in regal attire adorned with enchanted gems, the ruler’s gaze held both the weight of responsibility and tradition, literally looking down on us. His long black beard had beads and gems woven throughout it, a fortune sitting in his hair that reeked of wealth. His sunken cheeks and pale eyes showed a tale of altruism, only furthered by the four advisors hurrying around him with paperwork.

“What’s this now?” asked the intermediary king, barely glancing towards us. “A Dragonknight, great. What brings you to my door?”

My entire crew bowed, Dosor imitating us.

“We have a mission to rescue the princess,” I declared, holding the bow at a respectable degree. “We thought it only proper to meet with you and see how the situation has developed since the mission statement has reached us.”

I quickly introduced ourselves but he interrupted me after I got through just the names.

“Ahh,” exclaimed Boldrin Flamesmith, dismissing two of the advisors. “I appreciate the help but I doubt that… someone of your experience can help us in this delicate political situation.”

“Please, we only seek to help. We might be new Knights but I personally have been taught by a Dwarven smith from your ranks and know how important your royal line of succession is,” I explained, motioning to Eva. “We have also brought some gifts, fruits from faraway lands only fit for a king.”

She caught my trail of thought quickly and went to the saddle, getting a package of dragonfruits and presenting it to him, unbinding the bow.

He looked at the fruits with disdain. “Great, but it will not change my decision. You may stay in Khazur to restock and enjoy the sights of our city but stay out of the royal business.”

One of his attendants took the package and brought it away to the kitchen.

I recognised us as dismissed and turned away with a bow, leaving the throne room without having made any progress.

As the grand doors of the throne room closed behind us, we found ourselves stepping out of the bastion and into the rhythmic clang of hammers on anvils. The transition from the regal atmosphere of the throne room to the industrial heartbeat of the forges left us feeling unmoored, our thoughts echoing the uncertainty that awaited us in the heart of Khazur.

“I don’t like this,” said Rachel, looking around at the architecture.

Eva quickly agreed, her gaze lingering on the bastion, “He was very dismissive towards us.”

“Almost like he was hiding something,” whispered Ethan, looking suspiciously at the guards, “he didn’t listen to us at all. I bet he has something to do with the princess missing.”

I looked around at the bustling masses beneath us. “We should do some investigating, see what actually happened.”

“We should check the libraries,” proposed Eva, looking around for one. “There are a lot of people who will talk your ear off if you give them a chance. We just have to find someone interested in the princess situation.”

I walked over to one of the posted guards. “Hey, sorry, but do you know where the local libraries are?”

“That is your first inquiry when in the capital of enchantment and forging?” she asked, but scoffed and continued before I could answer, “You go to the outskirts, head right and you can’t miss it. Don’t get discouraged by the nerds.”

“Thank you.”

The library was, in fact, very easy to miss, but our wandering around revealed far more than the straight walk would have.

Just through walking past merchants and overhearing their conversations revealed a lot about Boldrin.

He had been consistently raising taxes up to the point where the merchants struggled to pay for food our their rent. No one knew where the money was going but the majority thought it was a flight of lunacy or preparations for war.

Once at the library, we sifted through ancient tomes and manuscripts, each page revealing fragments of Khazur's intricate history. Eva, always perceptive, disappeared into the stacks, returning with a grizzled dwarven scholar who regarded us with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. Little did we know that the dusty scrolls and fading ink held clues to a rebellion that had long been brewing beneath the surface of the enchanted city.

Eva split off pretty early and came back with a grizzled dwarven scholar, that was eyeing us with suspicion.

“This is Lordric, he knows Bruel and can help us,” she explained, sitting down next to Rachel.

“‘Sup?”

I shoved the book away I had been reading, Rachel picking it up and reading. “Do you know anything about the missing princess?” I asked.

He scoffed, explaining, “Everyone knows. She supposedly has been kidnapped by some rebels that are using the mines to their advantage. A few soldiers chose to search for her but haven’t reappeared. Bruel was one of them.”

Caleb leaned in, a spark of determination in his eyes. "Do you have any idea where exactly they went?"

Another scoff escaped Lordric. "I would've gone after them if I knew. There are way too many tunnels to just go searching for him."

Eva interjected, "But surely there's a lead, a starting point. We can't wander aimlessly through the tunnels hoping to stumble upon something."

Lordric scratched his beard, contemplating the crew's words. "There might be a guard post near one of the entrances to the deeper tunnels. If they were searching for the princess, that's where they'd start."

"Can you point us to this guard post?" Rachel inquired, her eyes keen.

Lordric nodded, "Aye, it's not too far from here. I can guide you, but you'll need to be discreet. We don't want to alert the guards if they're involved in something nefarious."

With a determined nod- and some prodding of Rachel- we left the library, leaving through the city with caution. The sounds of hammers on anvils and echoes of conversations filled the air as we approached the outskirts of Khazur.

The guard post, a stout structure built into the stone, loomed ahead. A sturdy building of stone blocking the tunnel with a steel gate, two guards on either side of it.

Lordric spoke in hushed tones, "This is it. You'll need to figure out what happened without drawing attention to yourselves."

I eyed the guard post, considering our options. "We can't just walk in. We need a distraction or a way to get inside without being noticed."

Eva, always quick on her feet, scanned the area. "There's a ventilation shaft up there," she pointed to a grate high on the wall. "I could sneak in, see what's happening, and let you know."

Caleb nodded in agreement. "That's a start. We'll create a diversion to keep the guards occupied."

Eva walked over to the post without any care in the world, appearing as though she belonged there.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

She leaned against the wall and pulled out one of her scrolls of parchment, pretending to read something while we planned.

Rachel looked around and spotted a cart loaded with barrels nearby. "We could knock that over. It'll create noise, and the guards will check it out."

Ethan, ever the agile one, volunteered. "I'll handle the cart. Just be ready to move when I give the signal, sell the distraction."

With a nod, Ethan sneaked over to the cart, careful not to attract attention. He positioned himself, ready to tip it over. Meanwhile, Rachel, Dosor, and I waited in the shadows, prepared for the diversion.

Dosor tried to be stealthy, laying low to the ground and hiding us behind her scales.

As Ethan gave a subtle signal, the cart toppled over with a loud crash. Barrels rolled, echoing through the stone corridors of the city. We ran over and after him, making sure the guards seeing us walking over.

Guards from the post quickly rushed to the source of the noise and turned to us. “What happened?”

“The wheel broke, quick!” I yelled out, motioning for Dosor and the guards to help with the cleanup.

The guards rushed over and stopped a few barrels while Dosor dove in front of them and stopped the rest, letting them crash into her side.

We painstakingly got them back up to the cart, stacking them next to it.

I crouched down next to the cart and looked at the broken axle, it was ripped off. Ethan really did a number on it.

“Ugh, can you work with wood?” asked the guard, looking at me.

I looked at the axle, rotated it around to look at it from every single angle, and pretended to think about it. I couldn’t fix it. I didn’t think it was fixable.

I could make it function, but it won’t be as strong as before or hold as long as before.

Rachel motioned to the axle. “Gimme.”

“Can you repair it?” I asked, handing it over, “I can’t think of a spell or enchantment that would make sense to repair it with.”

“That’s because you only think about those two,” she answered, grabbing the axle with an eyeroll. “This Boreweasel acid, although technically not an acid, can liquify the wood when modified with some reagents. We just need a mold to get the shape right, it’ll take a few minutes to mix it. Ethan, can you shape one out of stone?”

The guards shared an eyeroll. One muttered “Alchemists…”

Ethan nodded and grabbed a few loose rocks, casting spells to smooth them out and turn it into a cast. It was slow work, but most spells involving stone worked slower than usual.

“We should find out who the owner is,” said the other guard without moving away, basically just stating what we had to do.

Rachel raised an eyebrow at the guard, still focused on her task. “I can fix your cart, but finding the owner is not in my skill set or my job, but it is in yours, isn’t it?”

Her words, laced with a subtle challenge, prompted the guards to acknowledge their responsibility in the situation.

The guards exchanged glances, realising she had a point.

One of them reluctantly nodded. “Fine, just get it fixed quickly. We’ve got a schedule to keep. Phil, stay with them.”

He left under the watchful eye of Dosor. She appeared to be studying them, her draconic gaze sharp and analytical. It always surprised me how smart she was forher age but dragons did mature quickly.

As Rachel deftly applied the Boreweasel acid, she accepted the makeshift mold Ethan created.

Dosor subtly nudged me as if saying “Keep an eye on them.”

I shared her unease but didn’t act on it. The people here were just different.

Phil tried to lighten to mood. “Why did the dwarf miner refuse to trade pickaxes with the human?”

“I don’t know,” I honestly said.

He chuckled. “Because he heard the elves were always making "shaft" deals in the past, and he wasn't about to get "shafted" in his mining business again!”

I made a polite noise as I kept looking around, unease continuing to creep up on me.

The narrow alleys and towering buildings cast long shadows, providing us with cover as we worked.

With a final adjustment, Rachel broke away the mold and revealed the mended axle. “There you go. Good as new, or maybe even better,” she said with a confident smile.

The guard inspected the axle, seemingly satisfied. “Well, thanks for the help. Now, my partner is looking for the owners but you feel free to explore the market. I don’t think we’ll have trouble finding you.”

It felt like he expected us to laugh.

Rachel chuckled but stopped when she noticed the rest of us staying silent.

“Thanks for the help, we’ll check out the market,” I dismissed him, leaving with my crew.

“Let’s stick to the plan,” I whispered to the rest of my crew, catching a glimpse of Eva sitting on a nearby crate, observing the guard post. She nodded.

We continued towards the market, Eva quickly joining us from an alley. “I overheard them talking about a recent increase in rebel activities. Seems like they’ve been causing trouble for a while and we were one of their last resorts.”

“That fits everything we’ve been told,” I said, recalling the reports and rumours we had heard. “The rebels probably use her as leverage or something to get more supporters. The royal family had already been getting a bad reputation.”

Rachel chimed in, “We should split up.”

“No,” said Ethan, shaking his head. “We aren’t splitting up in foreign territory when the local government can be assumed to be hostile.”

I turned back to Eva. “Any pattern you recognised?”

“They should be somewhere between Mineshaft 42 and 45,” answered Eva, nodding towards the general direction of the mineshafts.

"Good. Let's stick together and head towards those mineshafts," I suggested. "We need to find Bruel and the princess before the situation escalates further."

The architecture of the market was a stark contrast to the grandeur of the throne room. It was a maze of stalls, each selling a variety of goods, from enchanted trinkets to rare gems mined from the depths.

Eva led the way, navigating the narrow pathways with ease. The scent of exotic spices and the hum of conversations filled the air. The vibrant colors of fabrics and potions lined the stalls, creating a lively atmosphere.

Dragging Rachel away from every potion stall became tiring quickly so I held her hand quite tightly, keeping her from wandering off at all.

As we approached the entrance to Mineshaft 42, a burly guard stopped us. "Hold on there. Where do you think you're going?"

I took the lead, trying to appear nonchalant. "We're here to inspect the mineshafts. The axle on our cart broke, and we suspect it might have been caused by the recent vibrations from the mining operations."

The guard eyed us suspiciously but eventually nodded. "Alright, make it quick. We've had reports of rebel activities in the area, so be cautious."

We thanked the guard and proceeded into the mineshaft. The air inside was damp and filled with the scent of earth. Dimly lit lanterns lined the tunnel, casting long shadows. The sound of pickaxes against rock echoed in the distance, the tunnels making them appear just around the corner.

Eva whispered, "We need to find someone who might know where Bruel and the missing soldiers went."

I spotted a foreman overseeing a group of miners and approached him. "Excuse me, sir. We're here to investigate the recent rebel activities. Have you seen any soldiers or heard of any disturbances?"

The foreman looked at us with a mix of annoyance and suspicion. "We don't need any outsiders poking around. We've got everything under control."

Ethan stepped forward, way more used to talking to people than I was. “We’re not here to hinder your operations. We’re Dragonknights, sent to assist in getting rid of the rebels. If there’s any information that can help us, it would be in both of our best interest to share it unless you want us to go back to King Flamesmith and tell him why our mission is getting stalled.”

The foreman hesitated, glancing around to ensure no one was eavesdropping. "Fine. A group of soldiers did head deeper into the mines a few days ago. Said they were following a lead on rebel activities. But they haven't reported back, and we've lost contact with them."

"Do you know which direction they took?" I inquired.

He pointed further down the tunnel. "They went towards Mineshaft 45. But be careful. It's a labyrinth down there, and the rebels have been using the tunnels to their advantage."

"Thank you," I said, and we headed in the direction he indicated.

Once out of earshot, I looked to Ethan. “Can you do your illusory map so we won’t get lost?” I asked.

He nodded and started casting the spell, conjuring a slowly expanding map of the tunnels to help us navigate. A sparkle in his eye as he sifted through the feedback of his spell.

Time was difficult to gauge underground but the ordered nature of the mines made it relatively easy to keep track of distances. Magical lanterns hanging at the cross beams bathed the tunnel in a dim light and allowed us to see any veins that had been excavated or could be used to hide.

As we ventured deeper into Mineshaft 45, the atmosphere became more oppressive. The air seemed to thicken, and the distant echoes of pickaxes were replaced by an eerie silence that hung heavily around us. The irregularity of the tunnels started to play tricks on our senses, making it crucial to rely on Ethan's illusory map to navigate the maze-like passages.

Every now and then, we stumbled upon signs of the missing soldiers—abandoned tools, a discarded piece of torn cloth, and faint traces of hurried footsteps in the dust-covered ground. The tension in the air heightened as we pressed on, acutely aware that we were treading into unknown territory with the elusive rebels possibly lurking in the shadows.

Eva, ever watchful, suddenly halted us with a raised hand. She pointed to a faint glow emanating from a side tunnel. “There’s something in front of us.”

We approached the source of the glow cautiously, weapons at the ready. As we turned the corner, the flickering light revealed a small chamber. In the centre of the room, an enchanting crystal glowed softly, casting an otherworldly light on the walls.

Against the far wall, we spotted a group of soldiers huddled together. Relief washed over their faces as they saw us, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and gratitude.

Bruel, the leader of the group, stepped forward. "Dragonknights! We thought we were done for. The rebels ambushed us, and we've been trapped here ever since."

I quickly surveyed the soldiers. "Where's the princess? Is she with you?"

Bruel's face darkened. "No, they took her deeper into the mines. We tried to follow, but they set traps, and we got separated. We couldn't risk going any further without reinforcements."

Eva, always resourceful, asked, "How many rebels are there, and do you know their leader?"

One of the soldiers spoke up, "There's a considerable number, and their leader wears a hood, so we couldn't see their face. They're well-organized and seem to know these tunnels better than we do. We need to stop them now."

I exchanged a worried glance with my crew. The situation was more dire than we had initially thought. We needed to rescue the princess and put an end to the rebel threat.

Bruel pointed in the direction they had come from. "They took her that way. Be careful, Dragonknights. They won't hesitate to use her as a bargaining chip or worse."

With a determined nod, we set off towards the indicated direction, the echoes of Bruel and his soldiers catching their breath fading behind us. The urgency in Bruel's eyes mirrored the gravity of our mission, a mission that now led us deeper into the cold, twisting tunnels of the mines, where shadows held secrets and the missing princess awaited our rescue.

The tunnels twisted and turned, the illusory map guiding us through the labyrinthine passages. The air grew colder as we ventured deeper into the heart of the mines. We approached a cavernous chamber, where the sound of echoing footsteps and hushed voices reached our ears.

Peeking around a corner, we saw a group of rebels gathered in a makeshift camp.

They were eight two person tents, turned into makeshift homes for at least twenty people and huddled around the fireplace in the center of the chamber, allowing the two dwarves surrounding it to cook for the rest.

“Drop your weapons,” came the command from behind us in an all too familiar voice, Bruel’s voice.