Now he knew that he was 6 years old. Knowledge from his "previous" self was still slowly entering his memory, among it understanding of the language, which seemed very complex. The subtarrenian fortress that he lived in was called Kig Kalduhr, just like the name of the kingdom, and it consisted of a series of connected underground tunnels.
"Drardir, time for breakfast!" What a loud woman, how do they know what time it is anyway? This was his mother Thovana, a thickly built knurlaf - dwarven name for dwarven-women. She was broad of shoulder, even wider of hip. Darius knew that she was stronger than every single man he'd ever met. Maybe not the titan. As he got out of his room, remembering to leave everything in perfect order lest he get a good spanking, he finally met his new mother. Humming while making a sizeable breakfast, with not a single wrinkle on her flawless apron, the short but thick knurlaf reminded him of his real mother back at home.
"You are to visit Durin Arnuru after breakfast, he is to teach you about xoth." The stern look on her face, as she brought the breakfast over, brook no argument. Unlike his real mother who was quite lenient, Thovana always demanded impeccable manners. "Yes, mother!" This feels like the army. His mother was a skilled tailor and a stall owner, a very strict and merciless knurlaf. She'd had to raise him by herself, with his father missing, and now that he thought about it, likely dead from a goblin ambush before he'd even been born. His brother was away on a campaign, he'd once overheard a conversation about a crisis one of the other dwarven kingdoms was facing. His previous self was so proud of his big brother, the mighty Balor Sarghathuld - Balor the orc-bane. Only those who slew a countless number of orcs could receive such a title. Big boots to fill, at least I finally have a sibling. Consequently, unlike his brother, who only thought about beer and war, Drardir was taught to read and write by his mother, as well as some simple tailoring skills and arithmetics – which, now that he'd inherited his university skills, sadly became obsolete. "When that kuldjargh comes back from war, he shall instruct you in igurund, your lazy bum could use some exercise. Now off you go, it wasn’t cheap hiring Arnuru’s services." Kuldjargh, meaning an axe idiot, was how she referred to his older brother, and igurund meant way of the warrior. "Yes, mother!" Finishing his breakfast, he was fast on his way.
On the way to the town square, he was greatly surprised by the dwarven architecture. The tunnel he'd been walking trough was almost 5 meters high and around 7 meters wide, the sides covered with worked stone docorated with precious metals. The air didn't even feel stale. I wonder how they do it, even modern humans had difficulties with underground ventilation. Small stone houses, very similar to his own, were neatly strewn across the lenght of the tunnel. This must be a residential area. His previous self had already experienced those things, but he was now looking at them from a different perspective. Upon exiting the tunnel, he entered a humongous cave, even more intricately decorated than the residential area, with huge support pillars arranged in 2 rows supporting it's structure. The whole cave was bustling with life, he knew from memory that this was the town square. Shops and stalls of all kinds lined up both sides of the cave with a wide road in between, among them even his mother's stall. A cute girl with neatly combed hair cheerfully greeted him as he passed by the stall, "Hello Drardir!". Thovana's assistant, Dorna, a sweet and hardworking girl, was but a few years older than him. "Hello Dorna!", he answered delightfully, his previous self had adorned Dorna. "What brings you to the town square so early in the morning?" she asked.
"I am to visit Durin Arnuru and study xoth, under mother's orders." he said, showing her his new clothes Thovana had tailored for him, he added, "Mom even made me new clothes!". "Good luck with your lessons, Drardir, those are very fine clothes. The Mistress has put in a lot of effort." Knowing that his mother would be there shortly, he didn't want to excessively bother Dorna and after exchanging a few more pleasantries, he bade her farewell.
Durin's shop was at the far end of the square, a two-storied building made of the finest stone. A strong smell of medicine assaulted his nose as he entered the shop, a middle-aged dwarf greeting him from behind the counter. Must be the assistant. He'd heard stories that Durin was the oldest dwarf in the fortress. "How can I help you, youngster?", the assistant asked in a gentle voice. "I am Drardir, son of Balgir; I am here to receive Teacher Durin's tutelage."
"Ah, I've been notified about your arrival, please follow me." The assistant turned around and led him to another room, knocking on the door before entering. Seated behind a table covered with all sorts of books, was a white haired elder with thick glasses and a grimoire in front of him. Now I see why he is called Anruru. Anruru literally meant the white sage. Lifting his glasses, he said in an aged voice, "Welcome, young Drardir, your father was a great man, his death a great loss for the dwarven race." So, "father" was indeed dead. Even in his old age, Durin's eyes held a sharpness to them, observing him for any reaction. Drardir replied calmly, "Thank you Teacher, it is a great honor to receive your tutelage." As he nodded either in approval or understanding, Durin waved his assistant away, who in turn politely bowed and quietly left the room.
As the assistant left, Drardir was prompted to take a seat. As he sat in front of the table, not being able to see Durin trough the pile of books, the aged voice was heard again, "Do you perhaps understand why your mother has sent you to me?"
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"To my knowledge, I am to be taught about xoth, Teacher." His mother had ordered to reffer to Durin as Teacher Durin, or simply Teacher.
"And what do you think xoth is?", the voice sounded neither annoyed nor hurried, like he already knew what Drardir would answer.
"Dwarven history and tradition, Teacher."
"You are only partly correct, it entails not only the drarven history, but the history of the world as a whole, what do you reckon this world we live in is called?", before waiting for Drardir to answer, he continued, "We call it Midjurd, elves call it Ambar, for humans it is Starimir, and for ocrs Kuudha. I am sure the other races have their unique names as well, but in the common tongue, all of those translate roughly to Old World."
"Our word for dwarf, knurla, literally means one made of stone, how we came to be from stone is beyond our present knowledge. Our history books date back to the time of Thorin Enthdornar, Thorin the First King, but a mere 650 years ago. Some elven books date back 2 thousand years before Thorin. Sadly, they rarely mention dwarves, with only great battles mentioned in detail, and very little of our culture. Centuries of knowledge lost, a true tragedy if anything is. Some legends still remain, legends I dedicated my life to memorize and record." his bony hand appeared behind the pile of books, pointing to a bookshelf in the corner, no more than 5 tomes on it. Could it be that there are only 5?
Guessing his thoughts, Durin continued in a heavy voice, "No easy task indeed, for we dwarves always valued booze and war over agriculture and medicine. I have recorded even those tales, trying to remain objective each time a drunk dwarf tried to embelish the numbers.” pointing to the other side of the room, where Drardir saw a bookshelf full of thick and thin books alike. “For, those who do not remember their past are condemned to repeat it. Be that as it may, I am not to teach you about war, my goal has always been to help people heal and plant, not to teach them how to harm others more efficiently. Besides, others can teach you in igurund way better than I ever could. Maybe your mother already has plans for you to be taught by your brother.” Drardir found himself pleasantly surprised. This intuition is like a cheat.
“But I digress, to continue on the thought, some legends describe a once mighty dwarven race, spread all across the vast Midjurd, now only 3 kingdoms remain, one of them just shy of collapse at that, a measly 20,000 dwarves, tell me young son of Balgir, why do we dwarves live so deep underground, hidden from the world?"
He'd thought about this fact before, "For protection and mining, Teacher."
With a slight smile on his face, Durin said, "Wise beyond your years, but you still lack insight. We could still build our fortresses on the fertile ground above, mines can still be mined without a need to live in them, with humans already employing the practice. My young student, it is aetharn that keeps us burried underground, rotting like some brainless goblins." Aetharn, the greed and lust for gold and other shiny things. It all made sense now that he thought about it.
"How can the problem be fixed, Teacher?" as he posed that question, his teacher moved the books on the table to one side and looked him straight in the eye. Then, with a slight frown, he said, "I am simply a scholar, my young student, not a leader. His Majesty Dugnir Urudornar, in all his wisdom, still lacks the manpower for such a major undertaking, partially owing to the overwhelming "prudence" of His Majesty Magrin Jarghdornar, " sensing Drardir's confusion, he kindly provided an explanation, "Don't call him that to his face, he is the Dornar of Neldohr, Magrin Jemmdornar." Urudornar meant Sage King; Jarghdornar meant idiotic king, dornar - king, Jemmdornar - the Fifth King.
"In their latest foray into goblin territory, they'd accidentally unleashed an explosion, releasing a Primordial Demon. They finally managed to slay it after cooperating with the goblins, probably one of a few rare times such an unlikely occurrence came to be. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Even then, only after 3 days of arduous warfare, with over 6,000 dwarves, among them 3 Advanced Masters, and at least 100,000 goblins including hundreds of archgoblins perishing in battle. With most of his army gone and an orcish raid on horizon, Magrin was forced to swallow his pride and request support from the other 2 kingdoms, each sending a batallion in turn."
Curious about the being, he asked, "Teacher, what is a Primordial Demon?"
The answer was somewhat disappointing, "We will leave that for another time, this should be enough for today," finishing the sentence, he picked a small book from the pile and put it on the table, "here, take this home with you." The book was titled 'Thorin Enthdornar - Founder of Kig Kalduhr '. "Thank you, Teacher!". Taking the book and imitating the assistant, he bowed and then quietly left the room.
“That would be 71 gold, Dear Customer, please…” seeing how the assistant was busy, he only waved his goodbye, the assistant returning a slight nod. On his way back home, he stopped by Thovana’s Stall, his mother and Dorna reacting cheerfully when he told them about his teacher. Not wanting to itrerrupt his studies, his mother sent him home.
“Release me you stupid NPC!! Or I shall never play this game again!” walking trough the town square, he noticed a weird scene. While being pulled by the ear by what seemed to be his mother, a kid around his age was screaming his lungs out, even going so far as to treathen his own mother with death. Guess some players didn’t get accustomed to the game just yet. Not wanting to create trouble for himself and reveal his identity as a player to other players, he just continued on his way, as if nothing had happened.
And such was his first day in this new world.