“If the guy who helped us with the Iron Giants and Dario are one in the same… well, I don’t feel as embarrassed as I was for looking for traps in the senate.” Melanie shook her head. “He was a master trapper.”
“That embarrassed you? I thought it was admirable. Sorry if I suggested otherwise.” Argrave shrugged.
Melanie looked back at him, hardly acknowledging his words as she continued. “Ogres occupied the place. These weren’t ordinary ogres, either—they’d been eating the cores of the Iron Giants. Though slower and sluggish than normal, their hides took monstrous strength to pierce, they felt no pain, and in death, they exploded powerfully enough to vaporize a knight in enchanted armor.” She held her gauntleted hand up, then clenched it. “In effect, Dario killed them all with traps. We were just bait to lure them. He snuck through that entire ruin, laying traps as he drafted a comprehensive plan to kill every ogre. Stealth and strategy—it was a peer to any plan I’ve seen.”This content is © .
Argrave stood and thought, his mind searching for answers as to who this might be. Nothing surfaced. This man, it seemed, was another Titus. But then, he’d known Titus somewhat—the man was a dye merchant. This Dario was a complete unknown. “Enough about his ability. What can you remember of him? Of his character? Hell, what did he want? He shouldn’t have helped you without reason.”
Melanie spread her hands out. “He wanted the same thing we did—destroying the Iron Giants. He did most of the work personally, disassembling them so utterly as to be unusable.” She ran her hand through her hair, thinking. “I thought he had a grudge against ogres. He seemed to enjoy seeing them suffer, like they’d wronged him somehow. Still, I wouldn’t call him sadistic.”
“Does anything else catch your mind?”
Melanie fixed her green eyes on his. “It was a one-day encounter. He was reclusive enough that none of us even learned his name. I think that should tell you everything. Still, from the description and talents… it’s feasible they might be the same person. And your sister knows her stuff.” She looked at him. “She belongs at your side, but me? If I miss something like that, well, I’m hardly… never mind.” Melanie rubbed her eyes. “Just tired. Rambling. We done?”
“Yeah. Lay your weary head to rest, don’t cry no more.” He looked at her. She had dismissed it, but Argrave could tell something was bothering her. He spoke firmly as he said, “Listen. I haven’t known you as long as some of the others. Still, don’t think for a second that you’re not like family. Standing up to Sataistador like you did… refusing the literal godhood he promised… you’d have to brutally murder someone I care about for me to revise that opinion. And depending on who it was, I might let it pass. Maybe Elias,” he joked. “So rest easy. Tomorrow, another senate meeting awaits, and undoubtedly Dario’s intrigues will make themselves known.”
“Gee, dad, that’s just swell. Thanks for vanquishing my insecurities.” Melanie looked away from him. She spoke sarcastically, but Argrave thought he’d said the right things. He wished he could call upon Anneliese in moments like these. Melanie continued, unaware of his thoughts. “The king shouldn’t say those words so casually to his sworn vassal. An ambitious upstart like me might get ideas. Goodnight. Or whatever time it actually is.”
As Melanie moved back to her bed, he decided to let the matter rest and reached for the Ravenstone. He spoke into it, saying, “It’s rather cramped in here, but I need you to watch over us in case of anything untoward occurring. Meanwhile, you can get ready for the search for Sandelabara. I think I’ll spend tomorrow roaming the city before the senate meeting.”
“Very well. It’s taken longer than I’ve liked, but it seems to have gone well. The dwarves may help in the coming war.”
Argrave released the Alchemist. The monstrous figure compacted himself to fit inside their room, clinging to the ceiling like a bat. With a wary glance, Argrave settled down into the sheets on the floor, and made to greet tomorrow. On his mind, looming larger than the Alchemist, was the sinking unpleasantness of a new, foreign name—Dario.
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Argrave walked through the streets of the dwarven city of Mundi. He thought that being in a foreign place, largely bolstered by democracy, might spare him from the constant shadowing of guards. Instead, they were guards seeking to protect from him, rather than just protect him. The soldiers of the senate watched Argrave’s every move rather carefully, doubly so because of the Alchemist standing at his side. Their weapons of magma were more than enough to hurt him badly.
The Alchemist had his staff of obsidian in his hand. The vial of Gerechtigkeit’s essence condensed from King Felipe’s corpse shone atop it. He was using some sort of magic to make it resonate and reach out to its kind. Now, they wandered, playing one large game of hot and cold.
“What do you think finding Sandelabara will actually tell us about Gerechtigkeit?” Argrave asked as they walked.
“Maybe it’s his home,” Melanie answered, her cheer returned after her dour spell last night. Perhaps she had been merely tired, just as she claimed.
A mouth emerged on the Alchemist’s shoulder as he walked. “The scarred woman is not so far from the truth. The knowledge I obtained from Erlebnis implies that such a place might be greatly important to tethering Gerechtigkeit to this realm, enabling his continual return. The places such a tether might be—if it even existed—were too many. But if Sandelabara is real, I can think of no other place it might be. And even if the tether is not there, we may find further leads to follow within.”
Though the dwarven citizenry gawked at them as they walked, none of their words reached the ears of the public. The Alchemist employed illusion magic to talk peaceably. It did not fool Argrave, being A-rank, nor Melanie, wrapped in divine artifacts, but it did all others. The dwarves were not a magically blessed people, even though spellcasters could exist among their number. Argrave knew for a fact their most powerful spellcaster was at A-rank.
The Alchemist stopped walking and talking at the same time, and Argrave proceeded past him briefly before looking back. “What? Caught a scent, boy?”
“Sometimes I wonder how long you want to live,” said the Alchemist idly. “Follow.”
The Alchemist took off again—faster, with direction, and Argrave followed with long strides. “Slow down, or I might need to call you back. Don’t alarm the guard.”
He paused on the street, looking up. Argrave followed his gaze to a huge facility that he recognized well. It was one of the great stations that kept the city’s gates working, pumping magma in and out. Not only did it allow bridges to the rest of the world, but it also kept the city’s outer dome from melting beneath the intense heat of the molten rock.
“I must enter that. Distract your shadows, or I will dispense of them,” the Alchemist said. With no further courtesy, he left an illusory version of himself standing there, then departed wreathed in invisibility.
“Oh. I see.” Argrave looked back, where the dwarven guards looked at him suspiciously. He walked up, head thinking quickly. “Say, tell me—how many people does it take to maintain that facility?” he questioned, trying to sound as curious as possible.
Argrave engaged the dwarven guards in idle banter as the Alchemist did whatever it was he was doing. He was certain that they suspected he was doing something malicious, but he was also very good at saying a lot without saying anything at all—in a word, he was political. When he feared he was running out of ways to act interested about a glorified pumping station, the Alchemist returned, and his illusory form dissipated. Argrave broke away from the conversation.
“I have unpleasant news.” The Alchemist walked up beside Argrave once they’d resumed walking. “You did the right thing, talking with these dwarves.”
“Of course I did. Glad you noticed. Have you finally recovered basic morality?”
“No. But I followed the trace of Gerechtigkeit’s energy.” The Alchemist was silent for a few moments, and Argrave waited patiently. “The remnant energy is strong. As strong as if Gerechtigkeit himself were here on this realm. I have no doubt that something invaluable lurks in the spot I noticed. Whether it is Sandelabara… I cannot say. But it matches with what I extracted from Felipe.”
“You’ve found it, then? And it’s this close to us, to Berendar? We don’t have to wander the damned tunnels looking for it?” Argrave grew excited.
“You must make the dwarves love you, Argrave. Woo them harder than you wooed your wife. Or enslave all of them so completely that they would surrender everything to you.” He looked at Argrave. “This is not negotiable. We need the dwarves, and their mastery of the pressure and temperature of the deep earth, more than any other.”
Argrave held his hands out, alarmed. “Where is this coming from?”
“From my reasoning. I am many things. I have mastered many magics, and consorted with many gods. But never once have I found any that can persist in a sea of magma. Even gods of fire do not blaze as hot as liquid metal deep within the earth, and they would perish within it. And Sandelabara, or whatever this remnant of Gerechtigkeit is… it lies in a vast ocean of molten rock. Specifically, it lies far below the place known as Vysenn. To reach it, we must travel through miles and miles of molten rock.”