After traversing a number of strangely tall corridors and stairwells, I was standing at the lip of the throne room to the King of Khazud-Tharik, his court gaping. The throne room was bathed in incredibly bright light cast by spheres that hung from the ceiling, illuminating the grandeur of the court. Around me, magnificent columns, carved from the very heart of the mountain, rose up to support the massive stone ceiling, each one etched with the sagas of dwarven history. Intricate tapestries, depicting battles and legendary moments of the kingdom, adorned the walls, their colors vibrant against the stone.
Within stood a diverse array of dwarves, each reflecting the prosperity and prestige of the kingdom's heart. Unlike those I had seen in the outer tunnels and chambers, the dwarves here were adorned in finery that spoke of their status and roles within the kingdom.
Noble dwarves stood out with their richly embroidered garments, boasting deep hues of crimson and emerald, interwoven with threads of gold and silver. Their clothes were accented with precious stones and intricate metalwork, symbols of their wealth and lineage. The nobility carried themselves with a dignified air, their beards and hair meticulously groomed and braided, often decorated with small jewels or golden rings.
Warriors of the royal guard were in ceremonial armor, polished to a brilliant shine. The armor was masterfully crafted, etched with intricate designs that told stories of valor and bravery. They stood tall and proud, their axes and hammers sheathed but ever-present.
Among them were scholars and advisors, easily identifiable by their less ostentatious but equally elegant robes. They bore the marks of wisdom, with scrolls or tomes in hand or tucked into their belts. Their beards were often long and unkempt, signifying a life devoted more to study and counsel than to physical pursuits.
Artisans and master craftsmen, responsible for the kingdom's renowned works, were also present. They wore simpler garments, but each bore some element – whether a brooch, a belt, or a cap – that showcased their skill. A jeweler might have a magnificently crafted gemstone pendant, while a blacksmith could have an exceptionally wrought metal belt.
The air in the throne room was thick with the scent of fine oils and polished metal, mixed with the subtle fragrance of the luxurious fabrics worn by the courtiers. The overall atmosphere was one of regal opulence, a stark contrast to the hardships of the people without. I could see a lot of the world I came from within these people. There was so much outside that they undoubtedly had the power to fix and chose not to.
It made me wary.
Jeldorain frowned. Might is right to all the infernals and their true believers. These people understand the power of merit.
Was it meritorious, what you did to Jon? I asked. After all, he fell to your power.
A sense of shame exuded from the infernal, and he quieted as Theor and his compatriots ushered me in.
I stepped through the massive entry way, the tall ceiling and apertures now understandable in light of these peoples’ history. The eyes of the Infernulgar were upon me. I could feel their silent scrutiny as I stepped to a place halfway between the entrance and the king. My compatriot knelt, and I almost did the same, but declined after a sharp mental rebuke from Jeldorain.
“Welcome to the chamber of King Thorano, Ruler of the Khazud-Tharik,
King Thorano watched from his throne. In the light of this place I could see that all of them sported a naturally skin, much like the soil of the cavern from which I’d come. Their eyes were many colors, but in the strong light of this place I realized that these colors were somehow more. Some blazed with a flicker of ancestral elemental power, waves crashing in the eyes of one, gales blowing in the eyes of another. Others eyes were the color of precious stones, and they glittered complete with facets as they stared at the entirety of my being.
My heart pounded in my chest, surely echoing the rhythmic pistons that I’d been told functioned below. The court stared and judged, a myriad of thoughts and emotions swirling around them,
King Thorano stood from his throne, taking a step forward. He looked impressive, black beard under eyes of diamond within which blazed tiny fires. His body was obviously fit, large muscles bulging underneath a tunic of fine soft leather, his shoulders cloaked over with a cloak of midnight blue.
“Be it true? Can it be? Ha’ the deed of my crown brought back the infernals?” he asked. The air broke into whispers and muttering. Jeldorain giggled in my mind, sounding so much like a fan girl at a K-Pop concert.
What’s up with you? I asked him.
These guys are absolute suckers, he said between giggles. We are in a position that is best described by your world’s history. We are Spanish conquistadors, landing as gods in the land of the Aztecs!
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
My eyes widened and I took them all in, corner to corner, the strange dwarves of this place who had no counterpart in my games of old. I didn’t need a successful Perception check to see what he was talking about. It was all in their facial expression and body statures. They were just begging to worship me.
I wondered in that moment what they would do if I stepped forward and knocked the King’s head from his body. Jeldorain roared with laughter, his emotions pushing me to do this very thing.
No, I told him. We will try diplomacy first. This is the way of non-infernals. You agreed that I would be in charge of it.
I felt him back off, but could sense his desire still swarming through me. I’d have one shot at this, I figured, before it got too much for him.
“Your Majesty,” I said, my voice echoing booming through the chamber, “I have traveled from far away to come to you in this time and tell you that the time of the Goblins has ended.”
That Majesty stuff is a bit much, Jeldorain snarled. Be easier to smash him and be done with it.
Keeping my face plain and unreactive, I told Jeldorain off while waiting for the King’s reply. He remained silent, his expression unreadable, yet his eyes never left my face. The courtiers continued to whisper among themselves, their voices the only thing filling the stretching lack of response.
“Uh. I have seen the greatness of your people,” I added, my gaze sweeping across the assembly to hopefully add to my gravitas. “The present craftsmanship, the honor, the resilience of the surviving Infernulgar are such that we of the other planes—”
Hells, Jeldorain rasped.
“— hells,” I corrected, “we desire to see you rise beyond your status as goblin thralls and reestablish your place in the surface world as well as below, becoming again a true kingdom in your own right. To this end, I and my thralls have come here to convince you to raise your banner, to ally with the enemies of the goblins, and to break their empire and attain your independence.”
Jelodorain nodded. Perhaps your golden tongue can save this day, great champion.
The king leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued. “I understand that you are called Ryan. That is not a name of the infernals. Yet, clearly you are an infernal, and one that has not turned to monstrosity. How is it that you were named such?”
I felt the presence of Jeldorain within me stir. “I am both infernal and human. Within me resides the spirit of Jeldorain, ice infernal and lord of the Frozen Hells. He is a guide, a guardian, and a friend.”
Jeldorain blew a raspberry at the last word and I grinned.
King Thorano nodded slowly, his gaze contemplative. The court fell silent, hanging on the king’s every gesture, every expression. Finally he spoke, his voice breaking the silence, deep and resonant.
“A human,” he began, his tone measured. “A human?!” he asked again, his voice rising. “An enemy of the kingdom of Khazud-Tharik, one of the beings who sealed off our infernal lords from the hells eternal and drove them mad with their magics?!! YOUR UNION IS BLASPHEMY!”
I stuttered, taken by surprise at the vehemence of his words. “I —”
Around me, angry murmurs rippled through the court. I felt pressure on my soul, the abrupt seizure of my essence, and suddenly I was buckled away into Jeldorain’s body as he took over and bottled me into the back side of our consciousness.
“DO YOU WISH TO SEE BLASPHEMY, INFERNULGAR? LOOK AT YOUR PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A PEOPLE! YOU SNIVEL AND WHINE TO THE RACES OF THE GODS, FORGETTING THE WARS OF THE INFERNAL AND THE DIVINE, SCRAPING YOUR BEARDS IN THE DIRT AT THEIR PRESENCE. YOU DARE QUESTION A UNION OF INFERNAL AND HUMAN. THE INFERNAL WILL OF YOUR BETTERS?”
I watched as Jeldorain stepped us forward, and the king apparating a massive claymore to his hands. It sparked and whizzed, full of a variety of elemental magics.
“The infernal speaks. But is he a lord? Or is he just the slave of a human?”
Jeldorain bared his icy maw, mist spraying out in a cloud.
“The human brings to you words of peace. But I would sooner smash you to paste, dwarf, and take your kingdom for my own. Shall I have my own way?”
King Thorano stared. “Jeldorain, you may kill me. But the others would slay you. It might take a thousand of my men, but you would die. I propose something different. A means by which to test your worth. Fight in our arena against the greatest of our monsters, and if you win victory, you may have our allegiance.”
I could feel Jeldorain’s murderous attention upon King Thorano switch to elation, visions of him feasting upon the living flesh of powerful foes, cheered on by the ashen-skinned dwarves of the deep, and I sighed. This meeting really was his realm to shine. He’d been right to take control.
“I will rend your monsters asunder, then lead you out from under the foot of the goblins. This is my vow.”
Excited chatter erupted from every corner of the court. The King turned, disapparating his weapon and raising his arms to all.
“A diplomacy by arms! To the arena, all. The battle of our century awaits.”
The dwarves cheered, moving out of the room as quickly as they could. I realized it would take hours, certainly, before the fight happened. The word would go out that an infernal was returned to fight for a place in the leadership, and all who could fit into their arena would surely come to see it. I hoped that such arena battles were common, and from what I’d seen it seemed likely.
These dwarves were absolutely not good beings, so murderous warfare for entertainment was almost certainly a semi-weekly event.
Another thing bothered me immensely about this all, though. It didn’t at all seem like these dwarves were actually in the thrall of the goblins other than in a treaty sense. There wasn’t the grumbling and hatred for the goblins that we’d seen from the orcs.
I wondered how that fact might affect the outcome of this trial by combat, however the fight actually turned out.
As Jeldorain pumped a fist, following the directions of a courtier to the kingdom’s battle arena, I lay back in reserve and began to plan. Whatever happened with the king and the monsters at the arena, we would get their support.