image [https://i.imgur.com/POjeGp9.jpg]

With the afternoon sun sinking behind the Highwall Mountains, it left only a matter of time before Beaker began his instinctive end-of-the-day wailing. The work crew and other laborers broke for dinner at the town hall, barracks, pub, or farmstead serving food. Because he roosted on the windowsill, we enjoyed ringside seats for the broadcast, so the officers’ meeting raced the clock. Toward this end, I set the pace.

“Right. I want to thank everyone for being here on short notice and Greenie and Ida for pinch-hitting while I was away.” A few squinted in confusion at the baseball reference, but I let it pass. “Ida will remain our lieutenant governor so Greenie can focus on his workshop projects. Do I understand correctly that we have no material delays anymore?” I turned to the goblin to confirm the decision.

“Quite so, governor. Hawkhurst Rock is so spacious we won’t need to customize structures to fit everything. The great hall shares a wall with the manor, and I’ve already validated its blueprints. I can stake out the building tonight for Ally’s crew. It’ll upgrade to a throne room.”

I nodded. “Let’s hold off the great hall. I’m thinking a temple takes precedence.” I wanted less visibility, not more. A public display made me an easier target for players, assassins, and complaints.

Ally broke in. “Putting nigh a hundred onto the barbican strains the workforce. I don’t recommend pressing for another grand structure. People want houses.”

I held up a hand to deny the request. “That’s fine. We won’t be building a great hall next.”

Ally settled back until I finished my sentence.

“We’ll build a temple next—then we can worry about the great hall.”

“But Guv, a temple needs as much stone as the barbican.”

“Which means our moat around the barbican gets bigger—and we can move Forren’s idol to a more secure location.”

Ally and Greenie’s mouths opened to object, but my upraised hand stayed their tongues.

“It also means unlocking Holy Smoke, giving me a safety net in case I have to fight inside the settlement. I’m on the front lines and need all the gimmicks I can gather.” I spoke with conviction, almost daring them to disagree.

Ally looked disappointed, so I softened the blow. “Private houses are a luxury. My unsuccessful venture into goblin territory means goblin scouts. But if they come, we’ll need to be ready.”

Yula uncharacteristically spoke up. “Great smoke from Ovanka will bring emperor.”

“Ovanka? Is that the orc word for Iremont?”

The huntress nodded. “Superstition about Ovanka. Smallest among western peaks ees trickster een lore.”

Ally grinned at the name. “We call it Wee Magnus.”

My heart fell. Both goblin and orc mythology considered Iremont a sacred place. That meant the orcs would undoubtedly come. “Is there any way of knowing when they’ll be here?”

“Wars weeth elf and human een Grenwald deestract emperor—but not for too long. A season or two before scouts bring orc een numbers. Eet takes great time to muster legion.”

“And you think the orcs will cross the river—after Fort Krek?”

“Ees good target. Great prestige to sack human settlement.”

A couple of seasons meant we had, at most, half a year before the orcs arrived. That Yula hadn’t volunteered to intercept the scouts attested to the sweeping timeline and territory we needed to cover. We stood in no position to repel imperial scouts—certainly not without running into more goblins. Still, we needed to double down on security. If we pressed the work crew to forgo building homesteads, then we could press the guards.

“Yula, you know where the orc threat comes from—can you double the scouting rotations?”

“Not orc—emperor.”

“Right—sorry. Imperial threats. We know the orcs want nothing on the west bank of the Orga River, but that won’t stop the emperor from probing our territory.”

The orc nodded at my correction.

“I think it’s also best you set the rules for engagement. We can’t pass up a chance to negotiate if the opportunity presents itself.”

Yula made a throat-cutting gesture. “Keell on sight.”

“Okay—or maybe we could do it that way. Iris, if you have idle hands in your guild looking for something to do, could you coordinate with Yula?”

Iris turned to Yula and nodded. “I have an entire roster of veterans familiar with the Commander Yula’s preemptive response policy. I’ll send anyone free to the barracks for patrol duty.”

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Yula and Iris shared a nod of respect.

I turned to Greenie. “Keep going on your siege engines. If orcs use them, we’ll need them for defense.”

“If our next structure is a temple, I can devote more space in the woodshop to my endeavors.”

Ida shook her head. “I must agree with Ally. Folks will not be happy about postponing their plans for another month. The marketplace has catalyzed dreams of owning homes and trades.”

Ally pleaded her case. “The more my workers focus on big projects, the further they fall behind. Jealousy over private enterprises tatters morale. Especially after some townsfolk have already started.”

Greenie turned to me. “Freedom fosters inequality. We knew this when we changed our economy.”

I crossed my arms. “Then we’ll close it. I don’t care if it’s unpopular. If it destabilizes construction efficiency, we’ll have to shut it down.”

Ida scoffed at the idea. “The genie is out of the bottle, on that. People have money now. A black market will replace it an hour after we shut down the market.”

Iris shook her head. “Fort Krek had this issue—even among our soldiers.”

After all our risks and sacrifices, I couldn’t believe self-interest to be among the obstacles we needed to overcome. Sune Njal was right—this felt like herding cats, and I wondered if keeping the town together was worth the effort. “We’ll place a moratorium on new houses and businesses. We need to make it clear that security is our number one concern.”

Ally shook her head. “Scaring folks will nay improve morale. We’ll likely see folks bidding us a cheery bye before making off with the caravans.”

I grunted in frustration and sat down.

Greenie raised a hand. “Perhaps the subtle touch serves us better. Lieutenant Governor Ida could partition more parcels of land until we erect the temple. We can also increase wages for our construction crew, giving incentives to stay—such measures might raise morale.”

I turned to Ida, bracing myself for another disagreement. “We still have plenty of money, right?”

Ida nodded.

“I suppose that makes sense. Well, that settles the build order. And that goes for the blacksmiths, too. Needs for the barbican and temple precede private orders like pots and tools. Also, Greenie must have whatever tools he needs to finish his siege engines. I’ll give this order directly to Fin and Rory since I have another job for them.”

I revealed the nuggets of darksteel pulled from the bowels of Iremont.

Ally made a questioning face. “What’s all this, then? It looks like steel—but in a natural ore state. Did ye nick it from the gobs?”

“Iremont. It’s the cause for all the smoke, I’m afraid.” I gave Yula an apologetic look. “It’s darksteel, and I am hoping Rory can forge me a weapon with it.”

Only Ally reacted to the news. “Darksteel, do you say? Will wonders never cease? And I thought the ward worm’s core to be rare. News of this will reach Grenspur in no time. Between Forren and darksteel, you’ll attract tourists from up north.”

Reactions like Ally’s weren’t surprising, and a darksteel weapon would become another draw to enemy players searching for goodies. But it might also give me the upper hand on said visitors, possibly winning me a $10,000 headhunting bounty—a bonus I’d yet to earn.

“Let’s see if Rory can make anything of it first. This brings me to my trip north—I owe you guys a report. The goblins retrieved the relic before I could. We fought, but I couldn’t take it off their hands.”

The story didn’t satisfy Yula. “Was smoke trail from battle?”

“No, that came from something else. I found a dungeon under Iremont—or Ovanka, Kesir, Wee Magnus, or whatever we want to call the short brown mountain by the river.” I gave them a brief account of Sune Njal, described the magnetic mechanizations, the dwarven chair in the security room, the darksteel deposit, and the rubber elemental barbequing on the heat sinks. Giving as many details as possible, I hoped their combined lore from orc, dwarf, and goblin mythology might explain the mysterious place.

“Kesir is a half-made mountain, a place of peril. Goblins avoid it to give their gods time to finish creating the world. Trespassing meddles with the affairs of the gods—hence, the mountain remains sacred ground.”

Greenie’s description explained little behind the great wheels inside the place, but it could serve as our last refuge. But it took a hike to get there, and we’d find quicker safety across the river.

Ally, too, told a story about the flat-topped mountain. “Wee Magnus is the little brother of a grander mountain in the north, Magnus, or the one ye call Grenspur. The lad’s separation from his kin is a parable for staying home with the family. ‘Tis nay more than a fable.”

“You don’t know of dwarves working in the place?”

“Nay, but I like the idea of the gobbers worshiping us for building mountains.”

“Ovanka ees orc word for hammer—not tool, but pounding.” She illustrated this by slowly moving her fist onto the table. “Ees also word for fighting humans—since zey live een valley, orc pounds down to crush humans below.” She made the same fist motion.

I tried to digest the story, but her account provided little illumination. “You mentioned Ovanka was a trickster. What’s tricky about hammering?”

“To hammer burrow dogs for food, one must be quick. Must treeck or never eat. Keelling burrow dogs ees like fighting humans een valleys.”

I snorted at her images. “It still seems like a strange fable for a mountain.”

Ally stroked her chin. “Perhaps without a peak, Iremont looks like an anvil.”

All eyes looked at Yula, who shrugged off the suggestion as if the discussion were foolish.

I looked at Iris, hoping for a human story about Iremont.

Iris seemed as disinterested as her orc counterpart. “It seems like a good base camp for a campaign against the goblins—especially if they can’t dig too far underneath it.” She quickly looked at Greenie. “No offense.”

The goblin, lost in thought, bowed slightly and said to himself. “Not at all, commander.”

I couldn’t imagine what conflicts might live in his head. In all his teaching about his people, we never discussed weaknesses or ways to compromise goblins. He certainly had family issues, but I couldn’t remember him ever speaking ill of his kind—the propensity for cruelty, slavery, and discord. He made the same bonded promise to serve Hawkhurst as he had to his brother. If I ever unseated his sibling, would that mean he’d take the goblin throne?

Greenie might be politically savvy and knowledgeable in the ways of Miros, but he didn’t seem to want the goblin throne. Despite his misgivings expressed in the workshop, he had already proven himself a capable leader. I never imagined he might leave us one day to sit on a throne up north.

Sune Njal’s warnings about conflicting interests echoed in my mind. Still, I couldn’t imagine this harmless engineer, who seemed happiest among his tools, possessed the resources or willpower to supplant his brother. He’d given me back governorship only earlier today. He seemed immune to the temptation of power.

The ear-splitting klaxon of Beaker announcing the day’s end interrupted my thoughts. From the Sternway’s guild house to the riverbank and western tree line, everyone in Hawkhurst knew dinnertime began with Beaker screaming his head off. My reappearance to town would have spread, and the town hall would accommodate a standing-room-only crowd.

While my pet trumpeted, we fled outdoors to the town hall. Despite being at ground zero to the griffon’s cry, I’d be nowhere near the front of the food line. Before joining everyone in the town hall, I needed a bath.