“That was certainly a strange sensation,” Zullie said as she appeared within the halls of Fortress Al-Mir.

After Arkk explained the ‘hiring’ process to her over the week it took to return, she readily agreed. More in the interest of experiencing new magic than working for him, but as long as she was teaching him, Arkk wasn’t going to complain.

As soon as the cart had come within range of Fortress Al-Mir, Arkk had been able to move all the equipment, the cart and horse, and finally all four people. Arkk wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do with a horse underground, but he wanted off the roads as soon as possible. There had been no sign of the inquisitors following them. Arkk didn’t want to take the chance. If they were following, hopefully vanishing would throw them off.

Of course, they would just go to Langleey Village if they couldn’t find him, but he didn’t intend to go there anytime soon either.

Arkk sent Ilya and Dakka to their respective quarters, where they could clean up from the hasty journey they had just been on. As soon as he finished, he found Vezta, somewhere in the lower levels of the fortress, and pulled her in front of him and Zullie.

“Master,” Vezta said, bowing immediately without any sign of discomfort at her sudden relocation. “Welcome back. Several matters require your attention.”

“Emergencies?”

“No. The [HEART] chamber is overflowing with gold. Constructing a dedicated treasury will be required before we resume mining. In the interim, I have assigned your servants to expanding your territory toward both Langleey Village and the nearby burg.”

“Expansions?” Arkk said, quickly checking through the dungeon with his second sight.

“At the moment, they are little more than deep and narrow tunnels, easily defensible with the liberal application of traps. I presumed you would still wish to visit the village after the destruction of the teleportation circles and took the initiative. If that is not your desire, I apologize. We can collapse them easily.”

“No, that’s good,” Arkk said, pulling back. What he saw was exactly as Vezta described. “Don’t connect the passages with the surface yet. We might have trouble coming.”

“Trouble, Master?”

“Those inquisitors. They’re…” Arkk shook his head. “I’ll explain later. I want input from Olatt’an and Rekk’ar. First, this is Zullie.” Pausing to motion to his side, he found Zullie standing utterly still, wide-eyed with her mouth agape. “Zullie?”

Vezta’s eyes, both the glowing suns on her face as well as the smaller eyes dotted around her shoulders, wrists, and elsewhere shifted, focusing entirely on the woman she had been ignoring since appearing. After a moment, she cocked her head to the side. “Your latest minion appears to be faulty, Master.”

Arkk waved his hand in front of Zullie’s face, breaking the stupor. She blinked several times in a rapid fluttering before slowly turning her head toward Arkk. Although her head turned, her eyes were still locked on Vezta.

“This… isn’t a demihuman,” she whispered.

“I am the [SERVANT].”

“Zullie is a magical researcher from Cliff,” Arkk said. “I’ll be constructing quarters similar to my own and Ilya’s, but closer to the orc section of the fortress. I want you to teach her the lightning bolt spell after she gets settled.”

“Might I suggest placing her quarters near the library? That is the traditional location for magical research.”

Arkk paused, then nodded. “That’s doable.” Glancing to his side, he frowned at the woman who was once again staring. “Zullie,” he said, making her jump. “This is Vezta. She keeps the place tidy and running. And yes, she isn’t a demihuman. She’s pre-Calamity.”

“I… I…” Zullie’s jaw clamped shut. “If I were a magixenologist…”

“Try to get over the shock quickly,” Arkk said with a sigh. Ilya hadn’t acted like this. Neither had the orcs. Shaking his head, he glanced over to Vezta. “Gather everyone important for a meeting in… two hours. That includes Zullie and Dakka.”

“Understood. Shall I offer the malfunctioning human a tour while you construct sleeping quarters?”

Arkk nodded. “Best make sure the orcs know she is one of ours while you’re at it. I don’t want any accidents. Speaking of, has there been any trouble with them while I was gone?”

“There were some disgruntled murmurs that evolved into a small fight between a few of the orcs. Rekk’ar beat down the two most responsible, but several were involved. The two most injured are both recovering in the medical lair.”

“Permanent injuries?”

“Nothing particularly alarming. I tended to the worst wounds. I am no expert on orc physiology, but I would guess they will be back on their feet in another day or two.”

“I’ll speak with Rekk’ar then.”

Arkk didn’t bother to walk away. He instantly appeared in an empty room just down the hall from the library. A small pile of gold followed him. It was a rather small room and took a mere second to convert into the magical room that allowed inhabitants to construct their own private domiciles. The lair. If he hired more magical researchers in the future, he might have to figure out alternative living quarters, but for now, this should suffice for Zullie.

Quickly peeking into the [HEART] chamber, Arkk confirmed what Vezta had said. It was nearly impossible to stand anywhere without stepping on a pile of gold coins. Just how much gold was under the fortress anyway? A month ago, he might have fainted at the sight of all this wealth. Even now, knowing it all belonged to him had Arkk unsteady on his feet.

He wasn’t quite sure what building a proper treasury meant. As far as Arkk could tell, there wouldn’t be a problem just dumping it all into one of the many spare rooms the fortress had. He would have to ask Vezta later.

Before that, however, Arkk relocated out into the long tunnel that stretched between the fortress and Langleey Village. When Vezta had ordered the construction of the tunnel, she had done so with security in mind. Even though the [HEART] chamber was between the village and the orc section of the fortress, the tunnel stretched well past both before looping around. Any invading force that made it through the tunnel would have to face the orcs almost immediately after.

If Arkk had anything to say about it, an invading force wouldn’t make it through at all. Hearing about the abilities purifiers were said to possess did have him a little worried, but there wasn’t much he could do about that at the moment.

Whatever magic powered Fortress Al-Mir and the rooms it contained was a bit finicky in Arkk’s eyes. With a small pile of gold at his disposal, he could fashion a foundry that would make a king jealous. The fortress smithy could make expertly crafted tools, weapons, and even smaller things like doors and hinges. If he had a proper tailor, they could make the finest clothes in the land with all the expensive cloth and precision equipment that the fortress could provide.

However, the fortress seemed incapable of making an end product. He could expend gold to fill the tailor’s spools with bolts of the finest cloth, but he couldn’t make a cloak. Ingots of fine metal filled the smithy storage, but he couldn’t magically make a sword. He could make a room that would transform itself based on its occupants’ comfort needs, but he couldn’t make a room that came with a bed and desk if he so desired. At least not without heading to the drawing board to sketch that out. Even then, the desk and bed would be of far lower quality.

Vezta had said it back before he made the contract. The fortress wanted artisans for some reason. It needed intelligent beings to run the place.

Traps, as it turned out, counted as an end product. Something he couldn’t conjure up with a liberal application of gold. Yet, in a strange way, they were similar to rooms. He designated a location and determined the type of trap that he wanted, whereupon he would receive proper schematics to hand off to the blacksmith or whoever was required to build the thing.

Unfortunately, Arkk didn’t know much about trap building. Vezta didn’t have ready-made plans for traps. Not to mention, they seemed like it would be best to design bespoke traps for the location he was trying to defend.

Here, a long and narrow tunnel, Arkk had only two good ideas.

Dragging a lesser servant from elsewhere in the fortress, Arkk pointed along the tunnel. “Dig periodic pitfalls,” he said. It had worked on the orc chieftain. Large crevasses alone would work well to stymie intruders, but he was hoping to cover them with trapdoors that he could open at will.

Beyond pitfalls… there were probably a lot of things he could do. But having been to Cliff recently, Arkk took inspiration from the massive ballistae they had watching their front gate. Those things had been intended to throw log-sized arrows that would destroy catapults, trebuchets, or other large war machines. Presumably. He hadn’t asked anyone to confirm that suspicion.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

In a narrow yet straight tunnel, a log-sized arrow would plow through an entire army if they tried to invade. Arkk doubted any army was going to come marching on the fortress but those inquisitors might. Although they hadn’t attacked him so far, after everything he had heard in Cliff from Zullie and Priest Heller, and what Vrox himself had said on their few encounters, Arkk doubted they would be all that happy to find Vezta or the fortress.

Maybe it was his contract with the [HEART], maybe it was the wealth, maybe it was a debt of gratitude toward Vezta, but he felt it was his responsibility to ensure that Fortress Al-Mir remained safe and secure.

Designating a location for a door at the far end of the tunnel—when doors were damaged, the fortress alerted Arkk, allowing him to get people ready to man the ballista or otherwise defend the place—Arkk felt he had at least a good start. He moved to the other tunnel, the one headed to Smilesville Burg, and repeated the same defenses over there. Once done, he moved to the smithy.

Detailed designs for the defensive parts needed were already up on the board. Or, at least, the metal parts were. Arkk presumed the wooden parts would have to come from elsewhere. He did not currently have a lumber processing room, so perhaps he would commission pieces from John. Or just invite the carpenter down into the fortress, not that Arkk thought he would want to live inside permanently.

They had sealed up all the fissures in the ceilings, but there was a certain temptation to open a few intentional areas for allowing a little sunlight to reach the living areas of the fortress and make it a little more palatable to live within. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be much of a fortress if it were full of holes.

Satisfied that things would proceed for the time being, Arkk focused on Rekk’ar. The burly orc was in the middle of a meal, seated in the large feasting hall not far from the kitchens. Arkk didn’t appear directly in front of the orc; Vezta didn’t mind sudden appearances, but popping out of nowhere tended to disturb most everyone else unless they were expecting it. Instead, Arkk appeared outside the door, which promptly swung open to admit his passage.

A few others were eating as well, all of whom looked up as Arkk walked by. Two looked like they weren’t sure if they should stand. Arkk gave them a brief nod of his head as a greeting but didn’t stop until he reached the head of a long table. Rekk’ar, notably, did not get up. He barely looked up from his roast chicken dinner.

“You’re back.”

“Only just,” Arkk said, taking the seat next to the orc. “I heard there was trouble while I was gone. Two people are in the medical lair?”

“Nothing that couldn’t be handled,” Rekk’ar grunted, tearing off a strip of chicken with his teeth.

“They’re getting restless,” Olatt’an said, walking alongside the table. He took a seat across from Arkk, setting a plate of chicken down as he did so. “I’ve seen it before among prisoners and ship crew. They become agitated, distraught, and occasionally violent from prolonged confinement. It isn’t so bad right now—those two have been at each other’s throats since I was in charge—but you can just feel the unease in the air. It won’t be the last time a fight breaks out like that.”

Arkk wasn’t at all surprised to hear that the old orc had been imprisoned before. He simply nodded. “I learned a bit about how mercenaries work while I was gone. I’m not sure what might be offered locally, but in the city, there were a variety of jobs that I think we could do. Maybe even enjoy.” Arkk glanced between the two orcs. “How do you feel about gorgons?”

That got Rekk’ar to stop eating. The green-skinned orc stared, eyes narrowing. Olatt’an, on the other hand, just started shaking his head with a few low chuckles.

“Gorgons?” Rekk’ar said after a long moment. “More than one?”

“The posting I saw didn’t say how many, exactly, but it said the mine was overrun. I presume that means at least a few.”

“I’m not here to throw my life away for you,” Rekk’ar snarled.

Arkk held up his hands, leaning back in the chair. “That was pretty much the advice I got when I was looking at the job. Just thought I’d ask.”

Rekk’ar bared his tusks before turning back to his food.

“In that case, there were several other things. I presume you don’t care what it is, within reason, as long as we get people some exercise and fresh air?”

“If gorgons are your upper limit, I would be fascinated to discover what ‘within reason’ means,” Olatt’an said, still chuckling.

“Don’t accept any job without running it by me first,” Rekk’ar said. With that, he dove back into his meal.

“Slightly too late for that,” Arkk said with a wince that he tried to keep off his face. At Rekk’ar’s glower, he quickly added, “Nothing on the level of gorgons, just a missing girl. I plan to have Vezta try to scry for her.”

The orc glowered but nodded his head. “Doesn’t sound like good exercise.”

“I’ll see about stopping by Smilesville Burg tomorrow.” The tunnel wasn’t finished yet, but the servants would continue their work overnight. If they dug a small shaft to the surface, he should be able to get out to the burg early on. “Sorry for disturbing your meal. I’d like to have a proper meeting in about an hour. Vezta will be by around then to collect you.”

Rekk’ar just grunted while Olatt’an waved him away as Arkk stood. Rekk’ar felt a little testy during that brief conversation, making Arkk wonder if he had actually been injured in the fight and was hiding it, if he was getting a little stir-crazy himself, or if he just didn’t like having his meal interrupted.

Whatever the case, Arkk walked away a few steps before teleporting once again.

“—shouldn’t be possible,” Zullie shouted, waving her arms around her new quarters.

Before, it had just been a carpeted chamber. A fairly small one at that. Zullie now stood in front of a thick bed, large enough for several people to share with comfort. A translucent sheer curtain hung from a single point on the wall, stretching to all four corners of the bed. Next to the bed, glowing crystals adorned a large desk. On top sat an alchemical station for concocting small potions and a small stack of books.

Zullie had a book in her hand, open to a page toward the end. She had her hand on the page, glaring at it.

Vezta simply stood to the side, faint smile looking a little more strained than usual.

“Is there a problem?” Arkk asked, stepping inside.

“You!” Zullie shouted, stomping over to him. She thrust the book out toward him, almost striking him in the face as she held it open for him to see. “What is the meaning of this?”

The page was filled with text in tight, neat scrawl. Handwritten, not made using a printing press. There was far too much to read at the moment, so Arkk gently pushed the book down to meet Zullie’s violet eyes. “Was your book damaged when we transported it?”

“It isn’t my book. I’ve never seen it before in my life. But it’s my spell,” she said. “I invented it. Why is it in a book that just appeared in the room? How did the room just appear? Why is it in my handwriting?”

Arkk had exactly zero answers for the woman. Looking over her shoulder, he met Vezta’s eyes.

The servant just shrugged. As she had said several times, she was just a servant. She knew a little magic, apparently from when her former master had possessed her then used that magic, and she knew about the [HEART]. The details of how it functioned were never made available to her.

“Magic,” Arkk said with a smile.

That was the wrong answer. He could see it in Zullie’s face.

Before she could start yelling again, he held up his hands. “I don’t know for sure, but I imagine whatever runs this place is pre-Calamity. Who knows how it really works? But that’s why I hired you, right? Unlock the mysteries of all this old magic… and maybe craft some spells with this old magic that are short enough to be worth using in active combat.”

“Pre-Calamity,” Zullie whispered to herself as she looked at the book with wide eyes, awed by whatever nonsense Arkk had just tried to placate her with.

He had no idea if it was even possible to figure out how anything here worked. But then, he wasn’t a spell researcher. Zullie was.

“Anyway, was just checking in. I’ll leave you to your tour,” Arkk said.

Before she could interrupt, he appeared outside a wooden door elsewhere in the fortress. Gently, Arkk tapped his knuckles against the door.

“Come in!”

Arkk stepped into the castle-like room that Ilya called her own. She sat at a large desk with several rolls of vellum set out before her. The outfit that the tailor servant had made was propped up on her bed, currently on the receiving end of intense scrutiny. As Arkk stepped closer to Ilya, she frowned as he looked over the papers. Each had a little sketch of clothing. Some dresses, some suits, others chemise with long gowns, surcoats, and more besides.

“What’s all this?” Arkk asked, motioning to the array of papers. “Getting into fashion?”

Ilya looked over them, then to the nice gown spread out on the bed. “It isn’t enough,” she said with a sigh. “You didn’t see them, but the clothing that the people at the Duke’s manor had would make this look like a peasant’s work clothes.”

“I thought it was a nice dress.”

“Compared to anything in Langleey, maybe. I just feel like we’ll be laughed out of any party we manage to get into. Assuming we can get into one in the first place.”

“We will,” Arkk said. “I have been stirring a bit of a plan for that.”

“Oh?”

“Not quite fully realized. It’ll take a bit to get running and has to do with the viscount we ran into. I’ll tell you about it with the others in an hour. We’re having a little meeting regarding what we learned in Cliff, so be ready.” Arkk looked over at the dress. “Though perhaps it would be a good thing if we could hire a proper tailor if you say it isn’t good enough.”

“It isn’t.”

“I wonder where we would find someone.”

Ilya frowned for a long moment, staring at the dress. She reached out and rubbed its long sleeve, then her eyebrows popped up. “I… might have an idea.”

“Oh?” Arkk said, returning her earlier question.

“Not quite realized… but why don’t you leave finding a tailor to me.”

“You know a tailor?” Arkk asked, not believing her for a moment. Having grown up with her, he knew what she knew and she did not know a tailor aside from Higgens in Langleey. They had already dismissed him as a possibility.

“I don’t know anyone specifically… Can I take a few orcs on a little road trip to the north? I remember my mother talking about her ancestral home. There have to be elves there both capable of making good clothes and willing to help her out.”

“You… want to go visit other elves?” Arkk said, suddenly feeling a tightening sensation in his chest. He tried to push it down, to ignore it.

Ilya noticed and promptly rolled her eyes. “Arkk. Please. This is for my mother, nothing else. Even if it was for something else,” she started, but stopped with a shake of her head. “I could try to go on my own, but I thought a few bodyguards would make the trip safer.”

“No. No. Don’t go alone,” Arkk said with a slow nod of his head. “If they agree to go, take the orcs with you.”

Ilya glared. “Are you paying them or not? Tell them to go, boss.”

“Point. I guess,” Arkk said with a sigh. “And it would get some of them out of here for a while.” It would be something to bring up with Olatt’an and Rekk’ar at the meeting. “When are you thinking you’re going to leave? And how soon?”

“We’ll set off in the morning. Then…” she shrugged. “A week after that to reach Marrowlands Fen, plus a few days there? And the same to return. Maybe more. I’ve never been there. I don’t know how long it will take to reach.”

“Give me something a little more defined at the meeting, but I’ll probably say yes.”

“Good. Then get out of here. I need to plan,” she said, then started pulling open drawers on her desk, mumbling to herself, “I need a map…”

Arkk smiled despite the unease in his chest, watching her work for a few moments before he turned. With how listless she had been after their arrival at Cliff, seeing her moving and working was a relief. Hopefully, she would keep it up.

Heading to the adjacent room, Arkk kicked off his boots and sat down on the bed, finally ready to rest for a while before the meeting started.