I struggle to steady the breathing in my aching chest as the train slowly slows to a stop. As I do that I replay the last few moments of the struggle that took place here.

Lleig had appeared suddenly, no doubt tailing us from the city and sneaking about one of the rear cars as the train departed. He'd cast his domain, then Isao did something, causing Lleig to instantly give up and flee. The agents of Those Who Follow The Heavens also departed immediately afterward.

Annora looks no worse for wear after grappling with the woman who singlehandedly took the rest of us out. The dwarf's toughness is truly something to behold.

Isao looks off into the distance, gaze aimed towards where our foes had fled, but his eyes appear listless and unfocussed as though he's lost in thought. Then without even so much as a glance at our group he turns and starts stalking away, towards the front of the train.

We take a few minutes to gather ourselves, with me rousing Bodelee and Orelio while Annora checks on Albatos. Just as I finish getting Orelio back to his feet the train lurches, sending him down to his knees in a fit of trauma induced motion sickness. Annora walks back to us, motioning that Albatos is going to be out for a while.

Finally, the train comes rolling to a stop and Isao rejoins the group, seeming more like his usual self. I can't help but give him a worried look but he brushes off my concern with a casual smile. "There's something interesting we passed a little ways back that I think would be worth checking out before we head back," he says.

"Are we really okay just leaving Bodelin to walk back? What if he fell down a mine shaft and needs help?" I ask with genuine concern.

"Nah, he'll be fine," Annora says, "Wouldn't be worth a damn as a husband if he couldn't manage getting tossed off some measly train. I'm sure he'll catch up soon enough." I can't help but think to myself that the dwarf brothers must be masochists to love a woman who treats them so poorly, but I decide not to say anything.

"So what's this 'something interesting' then, Isao?" I ask.

"I think it'll be better if I show you, come on."

The four of us leave Albatos behind on the train and follow along the dusty rock floor of the dimly lit cavern. Annora and Bodelee talk together quietly while Orelio stumbles along with a hand to his head, looking like he's nursing a bad hangover.

I match my stride to Isao's a few paces ahead of the group. "Are you okay?" I ask. He's been acting far more reserved since the fight, and the change in attitude is a little concerning.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm alright. I suppose this serves as a cautionary lesson in getting my hope up too high, is all."

"How so?"

"Eh, I've been somewhat chasing the tail of that organization for a while, but they're harder to catch than smoke, let me tell you. I guess you could say that finally meeting them only for our encounter to end up as that little pissing contest is a little disappointing. I suppose I expected more tact out of them, more of that mysterious essence that's frustrated me for years now."

"You've been chasing them for years?"

"I suppose chase is a little too zealous of a word. I only really bothered looking when I ran into situations that seemed to have divine intervention."

"Couldn't that just be attributed to Bymos? He likes to stick his nose into a lot of stuff too."

"Oh sure, and sometimes it was. But Bymos typically doesn't involve himself in events of a more grand or political nature. He'll help a little boy lost in a swamp full of dangerous beasts but refuse to intercede in a coup or monster hunt gone wrong. So when things seem a little too inexplicable to believe as the product of random chance I investigate. Granted, most of them had more understandable causes and most of the others were the product of this or that shadow organization, but there have been a few, very few, instances where it seemed as though Those Who Follow The Heavens actually intervened."

"I hope you realize we've gotta do something about that name."

Isao takes a moment and thinks to himself, "I suppose that's fair. They usually just call themselves 'envoys.' They don't have enough of a presence for anyone to give them a proper name, so I suppose the long and self-explanatory moniker stuck."

"If we're going to keep talking about them they need a new one."

"Well, let's keep it simple still. What about the Heavensent?"

"Much better. I have to ask though, what do you think The Heavens themselves really are? If they need envoys could The Heavens be referencing a kind of elite shadow organization with the envoys simply being the tip of the iceberg?"

He takes a moment to consider the thought, "While I can't rule out the possibility, something tells me that's wrong."

"How come?"

"For starters, they've been around for too long. I don't believe any organization with the kind of power and fidelity they have could remain completely secret over the course of several hundred years, even if we assume they must have weathered through the worst of The Summoning War with the rest of us."

"Yeah, it would be hard to retain both secrecy and structure when you're forced to band together with the rest of civilization to withstand the onslaught of the mechanical hordes."

"Not only that, but after the passing of centuries you would assume there would be some change in policy or operation, however minor. No matter how solid a foundation such an organization would have, history tells us it's a matter of natural course that as leaders come and go over the passage of time that empires and organizations change. However, The Heavens seem the same as they always were, enigmatic and evasive.

"Also worth considering," He continues, "Is the rather unique technology they possess. Did you see the tattoos adorning their bodies?"

"Yeah, the black ones that ran up and down that woman's arms, right? I was wondering about that, they seemed to emit particles of light when she exerted herself."

"I found mention of those exact marks in a thousand year old piece of scripture. The author was a renowned and revered mage who directly served the king of that lost kingdom. He had a chance encounter with one of the Heavensent and called those tattoos leylines. He theorized that they're made from a kind of mana-imbued ink, which gives the user access to more mana than they can usually channel by themselves, giving them their inhuman strength through vastly enhanced reinforcement.

"That same mage tried to create a version of this 'mana ink' himself. When he used it to give a soldier a tattoo similar to those he had seen on the Heavensent the experiment ended disastrously. The soldier's malformed body never again saw the light of day, buried in an iron box twenty feet under the bedrock beneath the castle."

"That's... horrible."

"Indeed. It should go without saying that the experiment was aborted and never attempted again. I wonder if the leylines the Heavensent use are the same in principle, but they simply have the knowledge and techniques to control such things."

"So what then do you think The Heavens really are?"

"I think... I think maybe we don't have a proper understanding of what they could be. For instance, in that story I told do you believe a group of people, however powerful, could have shattered a star? I can't even imagine what could be capable of doing such a thing, so I'm left with only speculation. To perform such a feat would take an unimaginable amount of power, and that combined with the longevity of The Heavens brings to mind the primals."

"Those are... creatures of mana, right? I think I remember hearing they're like concepts given shape and life."

"That's right. For the most part, primals represent core elements of nature like fire, ice, wind, earth, and water. There are some odd ones too, though. The winged monarch, the Harpy Queen. The lord of lightning, the Kirin. The god of the southern seas, Leviathan. For ages when people have sought salvation they have gazed skyward, when they sought guidance they looked to the stars. I wonder if possibly these hopes and desires could have coalesced into something more tangible, a force that seeks to guide the people of this world to a future they desire."

I can't say anything in response. I don't even know how to formulate a response to such a notion. A part of me fundamentally wants to believe that what Isao is saying is wrong, a misguided falsehood.

After all, if hopes and dreams could be made manifest then it's impossible to ignore the opposite possibility, that torment and cruelty and despair could take shape. Maybe that's what Reverie is.

"Hm. Perhaps I rambled on a bit too long," Isao says at my lack of a response.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Startled out of my thoughts I quickly respond, "No, it's just... you make it sound as though a primal could have some form of intelligence."

"Well, they can. Have you not heard of the Ice Queen Shiva, the Bolisian Empire's patron saint?"

"What? You mean Bolisia has a primal as a central religious figure?"

"Sort of a cross between religious and political, but yes. Back in the wake of The Summoning, the first emperor made a pact with the Primal of ice, Shiva, that all the land he ruled would be under her dominion so long as she offered them her protection from forces beyond human control. And so humanity and a primal bound their fates together, a truly momentous accord that has held to this day. If you ever travel there and wonder why the climate is so frigid from border to border, now you know."

I'm about to respond when he holds up a hand and interrupts me, "We can talk more on the way back. We've arrived."

Looking ahead I spot a crowd of people huddled around a seemingly innocuous section of rock wall. The light of torches and floating orbs of illumination show the group to be about a dozen in size. One of the people on the outer ring notices our approach and calls out, "Hey! Who goes there?!"

Isao steps closer to the light as the group all look our way, "We were just passing by and saw you folks over here. We're mercenaries by trade, but the festival didn't quite set us right so we decided to go poking around a bit."

"Is that so?" The man still seems suspicious, but he at least lets go of the grip of the sword at his waist, "That you lot on the train that went by then?"

"You called it, we stopped the train and hopped off 'cause it looks like you guys have got something interesting over there. if I'm not mistaken it's the sealed entrance to a dwarven crypt."

I look at the wall again but still see nothing out of the ordinary.

"Pretty good guess for a guy who could only have gotten a glimpse while passing by on a speeding locomotive."

"It's hardly the first of its kind I've seen."

The man does a little nod but still doesn't seem to relax his guard, "Well, whatever the case, we found it and the spoils are ours. If it's all the same to you, I think it'd be a bad idea to try to butt in on the tail end of our month-long search."

"Oh, we don't have any interest in claiming the spoils, as you say. As I said before, we were just passing by. If it's alright with you, we'd like to stay and watch. Hell, having more witnesses to corroborate the story of your find would be helpful, wouldn't it? It'd stop people from thinking you robbed a bank and tried to pass it off as a discovery."

The man gives Isao a quizzical look, not quite seeming to follow the analogy, but doesn't object further, "Just stay over there if you would." At a nod from Isao, he goes back to what he was doing.

"Kind of an odd analogy," I say to Isao.

"Mmm. Happened to me once, so I figured it'd make more sense."

"What? A bank got robbed at the same time as you found a treasure vault and suspicion fell on you?"

"It was a bad year for luck, okay? Anyway, it won't matter in this situation."

"Why not?"

"You'll see."

"Will we?" Annora asks from behind us, arms crossed, "I've half a mind to knock these fools into next week. Thinking they can just defile our history, the relics and monuments of our ancestors."

"You sure that's really a good idea?" Isao asks.

With a snarl Annora responds, "And why should I listen to you? You're just a glorified tomb robber yourself."

"Well, I suppose I do have to concede the point to you there, but that's hardly important. Do you think your sister's forces are stretched so thin that they wouldn't even have had the manpower to temporarily close the mines off for the festival?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying your sister probably wanted this to happen."

"Why do you think my sister, who values our history, our heritage, as much as I and the rest of my race do, would allow such vile men into one of our most sacred places?"

"Because it'd be the quickest and easiest way to relieve some of the tension that's been building in this city for more than a month now."

"What?"

"You don't even have to take my word for it, some of those shadow enforcers are already lurking around, yet they haven't taken any action. If you want, I could point them out to you."

Annora glowers at Isao, but doesn't say anything.

"No? You know as well as I do they could stop these treasure hunters any time they wanted, yet they don't. The excess of adventurers in the city is starting to cause tensions to rise and the economy to collapse. The infrastructure of this settlement isn't built to house such a force for such an extended amount of time, and cracks are starting to show in the foundation. If pressure isn't relieved, and soon, then a disaster beyond anyone's control could occur. The vast majority of them are treasure hunters, lured in by that enticing rumor of a long-forgotten vault of treasure hidden within the city. Like it or not, the simplest and fastest way to disperse them would be to disillusion them. That means this has to happen."

"What do you mean, disillusion them?" I ask, almost afraid to interject in the debate. But it's clear Annora already knows what he means, as she doesn't make any attempt to respond to either of us, instead stubbornly looking away into the gloom of the mine.

"Look," Is all Isao says, motioning to the group of tomb raiders. I hear a loud crack of stone and a small cheer rise from the group as they pull open what seems to be an ancient door. Dust billows out of the new opening, but that doesn't deter the adventurers as they make their way into the passage.

Our group follows silently behind, looking into the crypt from the entrance. Inside is a medium size room, with architecture that I never would have expected to find buried away from the world.

In the center of the room is a pond, with a bridge connecting four sides of the room hovering over the center of it. In the center a large crystalline stalactite hangs from the ceiling, aimed toward a hole in the center where the bridges intersect. As we look into the room a drop of water drips from the tip of the stalactite and falls into the pond, sending small ripples over the calm water.

Around the outer perimeter of the room are pedestals that hold up seemingly random objects, worn down almost to nothing by time. Unlike the expected gold and riches there's a wood bound book, a lump of frayed cloth that may once have been beautiful, a decayed feather pen propped up on a rusted metal stand. Other equally mundane items ring the room.

At the far end is what looks like a miniaturized eastern temple, with a stone plate adorned with an ancient script I don't recognize.

Wait, no. I do recognize it.

It's the same as the writing from the journal I read, ancient dwarvish I can only assume.

"It's like... a shrine," I say, in awe of the history.

"That's because it is," Isao says from next to me.

"Wait, this is a crypt, isn't it? I mean, where's the tomb at least?"

"There isn't one. Dwarves don't bury their dead, under any circumstances."

Right, Andora mentioned that.

"Rarely, very rarely, there is a dwarven leader revered enough that the people create a shrine like this for. Almost all of the queens have one of their own, somewhere or other, but having one created for someone who isn't a queen is a sign of respect so great it borders on zealousness. If I'm not mistaken a part of the spirituality behind it is leaving their will in the earth, so as to help guide future generations." He phrases the last bit as a question while looking over at Annora, who remains stoically silent.

"Anyway, even within these shrines they don't leave anything valuable. Dwarven ideology is based on the prosperity of the people, so burying treasures would serve no purpose. All the artifacts that adorn this room were likely personal effects of the deceased. Based on the age of this shrine, the history of the city, and the ancient dwarvish on that slate I'd say this was likely dedicated to Elsaria, founder and first viscount of this lovely city."

One of the tomb robbers picked up what looked like a wooden toy before it crumbled to dust in his hand.

"HEY! SHITFACE!" The adventurer looked up and jumped in surprise as Annora rushed over to him, fuming, "You touch anything else, I'll break both your arms. You break anything else, I'll fucking murder you. Just because you found the place doesn't give you the right to piss all over the legacy of our ancestors!"

"And there she goes," Isao says with a small chuckle, "I figured she couldn't stay bottled up like that forever."

"I wonder if the last king ever got a shrine like this," I say more to myself than anyone, but Isao's ears perk up at my soft words.

"Oh you know about Eldarian, do you? That's a fascinating piece of history."

"You know about him too?"

"Oh yes, I once conducted a large amount of research on him. Quite the interesting figure, he is. Though it's a little difficult to find others who know of his deeds. It was an incredibly frustrating venture, seeing as how the only historical texts I could reference were ones that have managed to survive outside the borders of Wald."

"What do you mean?"

"Well for some reason I could never figure out, Wald has a rather extreme policy of erasure when it comes to matters of Eldarian. What's also extremely strange is the reaction of the dwarven people when pressed for knowledge on the subject."

"That's cause Wald ain't ever had a king, you buffoons," Bodelee interjects, annoyed, "We can't have kings, and the idea that we have is a load of shite. Now excuse me, I'm going to help my wife," He finishes before storming off.

"Consistent with all of my other attempts," Isao mutters. "Every single time I bring the subject up with a dwarf the mere notion is staunchly refused and they leave without giving any leeway for elaboration. Strangest of all is that if you ask them about it later it'll be as though they've forgotten about the topic completely. They forget that you ever brought up the king, and even that they got mad at you about it."

"That's... weird."

"Indeed."

I shake my head, "Wait, let's go back to an earlier topic. You said every crypt of dwarven construction is like this, a shrine dedicated to history and filled with useless baubles?"

"Yep. Even that pretty crystal in the center isn't worth much. You can find fist-sized chunks of the stuff in the markets for the price of a loaf of bread."

"Then where'd the rumor that there's some great dwarven treasure vault come from?"

Isao's gaze sharpens, "Indeed, that is the question. It's a rather important question because for such a rumor to spread so far and with such fervency it must be assumed that it was intentionally spread by someone. And given that nobody would expend the effort to spread such a falsified rumor carelessly, it must be assumed also that the one who spread it has some ulterior motive. In fact, it's odd that nothing noteworthy has happened besides your run-in with that zealot."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean the situation this city is facing currently is likely the design of somebody seeking something, something they couldn't hope to achieve during a state of peace. So the question must be asked, with the city so ripe for action, why has nothing happened? Or maybe something has, and we just don't know it."

Listening to Isao's speculation I can't help but hear a faint voice in my head, a line recently spoken that I had somewhat forgotten about.

"I know where the legend of treasure that filled this city to the brim with troublemakers came from."