Hreidmar of Svartalfheim grimaced at the updates streaming into his throne room. The ages are shifting; Demons roam the world, war rages across land and sea, and the dead rise once again.
“Chaos,” he murmurs as his aged eyes skim the reports. In the centuries he ruled Svartalfheim, he’s seen wars and violent upheavals come and go. Some were fought for resources, others for vanity, but the worst were, are, always the wars led by the gods.
Still, even when the gods cause problems, it has never gotten so chaotic. They had restraint and goals. Not even the gods dared to flip the table without planning where the chips would fall.
When Hreidmar finally finishes the report, he sets it down on the table and assays the expressions of his nobility for their thoughts. Most specifically, he measures how much mead is in their crystal goblets.
All dwarves have a love for alcohol, and that love is expressed in their culture. When they are happy, they drink a lot- usually several large gulps if not the entire mug. When they aren't happy, then it is more nuanced. A single gulp or even a small sip is taken. But, when they are distressed, then a middling effect is seen. Several large gulps, but never the entirety of the mug.
And just from that, he notes the differences of wisdom brought on with age. His oldest nobles are distressed while the younger ones are curious, and some of the youngest are happy over the events happening. They wish for change, ignorant of how costly change can truly be.
“The gods and their games.” he murmurs again, though this time loud enough for the others to hear.
“Aye, and a dangerous game they play.” his friend, [Smith Lord] Forad, adds with a grimace. The other elder [Nobles] closest to his throne nod in agreement. As for those most lacking in the wisdom of a long life and gray beard, they sit idle and listen.
“Then,” Hreidmar begins, his voice rumbling with power and age, “Let us prepare the blackguard- silently, might I add. The populace need not know of what is transpiring in the wider world just yet. Right now, it is best to prepare and listen. I do not want my city to be in some kind of uproar.”
The stone doors to the throne room squeak open as two [Royal Guards] clad in full black armor push. Once halfway open, a portly dwarf with goggles and a long braided beard rushes inside. The man doesn’t bow or apologize as he rushes to the king. Sweat gleams off his brow by the time he reaches the throne.
“Your eminence, there is an uproar at the docks.”
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Svartalfheim’s docks are, to Quasi’s surprise, very very well defended. They are located within the mountain that the dwarves call their home. A massive water cave built into the side of Svartalfheim opens tall and wide enough to fit half a dozen dreadnought class ships through the opening.
At the top of the cave's mouth are black steel towers holding hundreds of cannons all armed and ready to fire at any ship that attempts to come near. As the ShadeHaven, Dwarven Anvil, and the Navis near the entrance, all of the cannons swerve to the three ships. But they don't fire as the Dwarven Anvil, flying the kingdom's colors, takes the lead.
As they enter through the caves mouth, the inner area expands into a port housing a good hundred ships at the very least. Most of the ships are dwarven made and owned, but a few also carry the colors of other nations as well. Atop the cave are reinforced stalactites with bridges built between them. From those bridges are thousands of enchanted crystals that give the port an eerie glow.
Near the center of the cavern, hanging from the top is a pillar of metal where dwarves swing glowing light sticks. It takes a moment for me to realize that they are directing ships, and another moment to figure out the process. With a red light pointed at the ShadeHaven and the Navis, a dwarf with two green sticks points one at the Dwarven Anvil and another towards an open space for the dreadnought. The open space lights up green at the same time to signal docking clearance.
Once the Dwarven Anvil reaches a berth made of metal, the next ship to be directed is the Navis. The castle of a ship is directed to an area absent of ships. The Navis, or more specifically the turtle, climbs atop a spacious piece of rock. It yawns and then falls asleep.
When it is the ShadeHaven’s turn, the dwarves are left dumbfounded as my own ship exceeds the size of the Dwarven Anvil, which makes parking a chore. It also doesn't help that the experienced and higher level [Dockworkers] are staring at my ship like an ex-lover that was presumed dead.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Eventually, after a good five minutes of waiting, ships are moved around until an entire section of a port is left vacant. A green light from above and the opened section tells me to park the ShadeHaven. With the ship parked, I lower the plank and prepare to head down. But I stop as I’m met not by a crowd, but a literal army of short bearded men.
Short bearded men that are in the midst of emotional turmoil. Many are crying with tears streaming down their soggy beards. Others are staring with their mouths agape. And some, weirdly enough, are intensely touching ShadeHavens hull with a reverence bordering on rapture… or orgasm.
Why are they licking the hull? Wait, why do some of them have a bulge betwe-ewww.
“Make way! Make way! I SAID MAKE WAY YOU DAMN COCK FOR BRAIN HORNY SHITS!”
A woman's voice, a very deep one, forces the crowd to part, allowing a clearly aged female dwarf to hobble past them with a cane. At her heels is Molucca with a shit eating grin on his face.
Velika Waterarm
Level 331 [Sovereign Cavern Harbormistress]
One of the oldest dwarves in Svartalfheim, Velika is in charge of the entire kingdom's naval production, organization, and trade.
Shit. She’s dangerous.
Velika raises an eyebrow at me, knowing full well that I’d just analyzed her. She attempts to do the same, but as always, it fails, as I glean from her frown.
When she finally arrives, the old woman takes a long look at the ship. She takes it all in, a short moment of genuine interest. The look is reminiscent of meeting a long lost friend and noting all the changes.
Then she looks up at me.
“Thor's bulging sacks, from what semen filled cooch did you resurrect the Haven?”
I can't help but grin at the woman's choice of words, “It's the ShadeHaven now, and I found it derelict way to the south. The former crew left it in disrepair.”
Still grinning, the woman tilts her head towards the frontal skull of the ship, “So to fix it, you boned it and steeped it in your necrotizing goop.”
“Inside and out. I’m a good man, and thorough.”
The woman laughs loudly, “I like you. You have spunk!” She taps her cane on the stone ground, “[Morph Cavern: Custom Construction].”
To my surprise and utter amazement, ambient mana flows from all directions towards the elder woman. As the mana coalesces, the earth trembles and morphs. A wave of stone pushes dwarves back while the foundation shifts. My ship rises, pushed up as supports morph into existence and surround my ship. Stairs, platforms, rapports, lights, and various other objects surround my ship. In a mere minute, the port transitioned to a wharf fully capable of housing and modifying the Shadehaven.
With the ship now raised, a bout of silence passes over all those present. They have a full view of the ship and all of the external changes that have been made.
“Stop googling and get your cream filled asses back to work,” She yells at the peanut gallery. They look at her with pleading, puppy-dog eyes.
“Oh?” she grins maliciously at the dwarves, “Are you disobeying me? Do I have to publicly castrate another of you shits again?”
Her question brings forth a memory in all of the dwarves present. A combined shudder from every dwarf shakes the foundation for a moment. They all glance wantonly at my ship before grumbling back to work.
Velika shakes her head at the disgruntled workforce before shifting her focus to me. “Are you going to stand up there stroking your dick or are you going to introduce yourself properly?”
Taking the point, I walk down the stairs with Jessica silently at my side. Ever since she’d realized that she is a bit of a sadist, she’d become far less sociable. Though, that could be because she’d yet to forgive me for sleeping with Teuta. In my defense, I was drunk and have no memory of what happened that night.
When we reach the bottom, I step in front of the aged dwarf and bow. “A pleasure to meet you, [Harbormistress]. My name is Bone, captain of the ShadeHaven.”
“Don't lie to me, cumstain. Your name is Quasi Eludo.”
Surprised, I glance at Molucca who replies with a shake of his head.
“Really now, and how did you find out my name? I was under the impression that my Alias is still secret.”
Velika grins, “You don't know, do you?”
“Ummm, no?”
The old woman grins wider, “Well, that's fine. You’ll figure it out. In the meantime, let's talk about updating the Haven's capabilities and name change, shall we?”
“I’d rather not. I’d like to keep the ship's capabilities a secret.”
Velika shrugs, “That's fine, just know you’ll never be able to undock your ship ever again.”
“I don't think you could stop me.”
Velika laughs. “I’ll be in my office when you change your mind.” She looks at Molucca with a huge shit-eating grin on his face, “as for you, Hreidmar wants an immediate report. He’s not good with change.”
With her peace done, the older lady hobbles away on a cane.
As she leaves, Molucca looks to me, “I did warn you ’bout the [Harbormistress]. I suggest getting that documentation started before you enter the city proper.”
“Ehh, she’s cocky and interesting, but not that impressive.”
Molucca shakes his head. He points at my ship, “You said you control the ship with your mind. Can you do it now?”
Surprised at the question, I searched for the connection between myself and my ship… and found nothing. Nada. It's as though the connection doesn't even exist anymore.
“How?”
“This cavern and all the ships inside it belong to her when they dock. All skills, enchantments, and capabilities of the ships are placed into permanent stasis until she decides to release them.”
“Fuck me. So I have to actually do document stuff?”
“Everyone not part of Svartalfheim’s military does. Testudo is probably already in her office with his [Lawyers].” Molucca straightens his scruffy beard, “Anyhow, I need to report to the [King]. It shouldn't take more than a day. When I’m done, I can take you to the Hermes statue you want to go to.”
Molucca runs off and leaves me and Jessica standing alone.
I attempt to connect to my ship again, but no dice. The connection isn't there, even though I feel like it should be. It's actually quite a blow to my pride.
“Fine,” I reach into my shadow and retrieve a small bag of crystals. I hand them to Jessica, “No need for you to suffer bureaucracy. Mind going into the city and getting us some lodging at the best Inn in the city?”
Jessica takes the bag and nods. She starts walking away in the same direction that Molucca went. As she leaves, I start making my way towards the slender, vertical, oval building in the center of the port. A building directly between two shorter circular ones.