Orei stalked the ranks of her small force and smiled. She had hand-picked these men from the best warriors and rangers in Doflhiem. Durie and Luther walked beside her, ready for battle. Durie had his old set of armour forged from dragon scale to protect him from magic fire, and the blue scales glittered in the orange light of the southern gate. One of Huldain's white and gold swords also sat strapped on his back.

Luther wore his Dwarven jacket and boots, opting for the same poleaxe he had wrestled from a guard in the throne room. A revolver sat at his side, and after a few shots on the practice range, he was ready.

The rest of Orei's honour guard stood at attention, a rag-tag group of the best standing at twenty Dwarves strong. Ponies stood beside each guard. Orei and Durie sat at the head, with Luther bringing up the rear on the same horse he had had when fleeing from the bear. The southern gates opened, and Orei gave the command to mount up. Citizens of Doflhiem stood around the courtyard, and watched their Queen and her men ride out into battle. It was something that had not been seen since the Eldar Wars, and it brought pride to every spectator. Once the southern gate stood fully open, Orei stood in her saddle, and waved her honour guard on, signalling the start to her conquest of peace.

Twenty-two Dwarves and one man, Orei reflected as they filed out of Fanir's ancient ruins, were a large force to be seen. Orei wasn't sure how the local inhabitants of Alturine would act; Luther had blatantly disbelieved their existence even in the heart of Doflhiem. Orei frowned at the thought, and Durie came up next to her. Durie had been in a cheerful mood ever since they left Doflhiem, and Orei got the impression that her uncle enjoyed adventure more than anything.

Durie's blue dragon scale armour glittered, and the other guards looked at it in amazement and envy. Durie saw Orei's troubled look, and slapped her lightly on the back.

"What is the matter, my Queen?"

Orei felt a pang of embarrassment, although she had to admit that she did indeed look majestic. Her old armour had not been deemed Queenly enough, and the master blacksmiths of Doflhiem had worked tirelessly to produce a new suit. It was gold, which was to be expected, but everything was doubled up with white steel, founded by Nurlin and perfected by Huldain. It was light and very mobile, and it had ornate depictions of him smiting the Betrayer with Mjolik. These scenes took her breath away when she first saw them, but now she felt self-conscious. It also pinched at her left breast and she winced as she tried to loosen the straps. Dwarven smiths made magnificent armour, indeed, yet fitted it poorly to their women folk. Mjolik, the hammer of the monarch, sat at her side, and she touched its handle reassuringly.

Orei looked over at Durie, and frowned. "I thought I told you not to call me that."

Durie laughed at this, and then shrugged. "Well?" he said. "What is it?"

Orei looked back at her men. They chatted amongst themselves, and Luther looked about aimlessly, taking in his surroundings. The forest had begun to envelope them now, and the sun was still rising towards midday. A sweet smell of pine and maple littered the air, and Orei tracked the forest path before he answered.

"I have been thinking," she said. "What are the locals going to think when we rock up fully armed and ready for battle?"

Durie smiled at the thought, and shrugged. "Who cares? Anyone with a problem won't have one for long. We find Olaf and the others, help them out, become heroes, and then we go back home and drink away the next century."

Orei smiled, and continued to track his way through the forest. Light began to dim out as the forest thickened, and then the sun rose high in the sky, peeling away hours as the group tracked through the forest. After a while, beams of light began to spear through the trees, and Orei found herself on the same road she had stood four days before – when she was not Queen, when her father was alive, and when life was simpler.

She sighed, and looked up and down the track before setting out with her men towards Cornerstone. Ever since she had killed Saurin, Orei felt that her life was a series of disjointed moments. She had no idea how she had travelled to Cornerstone so fast; one moment she was plodding down a road, and now she was in the centre of a town. The townspeople stared in open amazement at the group, and Orei looked around for signs of Olaf. None presented themselves until Orei entered a high class inn.

The inn keeper took one look at Luther, Orei, and Durie and sighed with a depressive acceptance.

Luther plucked himself up, and went over to the man, saying in his most professional voice, "Hello there, my good man. I was wondering if you have seen a large fellow with blue tattoos."

The barkeep's hand instantly pointed out of the window in the direction of the train station. They got the hint, and Luther led the Dwarves towards the train station, and saw to his relief a black locomotive sitting on the platform billowing smoke. Luther made his way over to the ticket box, and leant against the counter. The elderly ticket keeper looked from the Dwarves to Luther and then back again.

Luther leant closer in and gave a large smile. "Twenty-three tickets for The Capitol."

The elderly man paused for a moment before opening his hand for payment. Luther placed his horse’s reigns in the hand, and offered another, smaller smile. "There are twenty-two more where that came from."

The ticket keeper gave a resigned sigh and shook his head. He pulled out twenty-three tickets, and then pointed over to a holding yard behind the station.

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"Put the horses in there," he said. "The train will be leaving in five minutes."

After grabbing their packs, the Dwarves piled into the carriages with glee. They had not seen machines like this before, and such a thing rivalled even their engineers.

The train pulsed into motion, and a few of the honour guards hung their heads from the window like dogs, allowing their beards to stream out in the wind. Orei smiled at this, and sat down in her own cabin with Luther and Durie.

Taking in the strange surroundings, Durie watched the passing scenery in amazement and pointed out at it to Orei. "Look," he said. "They have conquered nature more than us. We simply carve, whereas they grow and sculpt from the root."

Luther looked out at the orchards Durie pointed at, and smiled to himself, feeling pride bloom up for his people. Vineyards streamed past, and Luther educated his friends in the crops’ purpose. Time went on, and night fell, showing the traveling companions the stars. Some sang, whilst others played drinking games. By the time the Dwarves reached the Capitol, the whole train, including the Alturine locals staggered off, intoxicated by the strong Dwarven brew.

Orei stepped off the train. thoroughly pleased by the experience, and looked about at the capital city of the southern empire. She was firstly shocked by the devastation the platform held: a large melted blob of metal still popped and cracked from a locomotive, and Orei turned to hear Luther shout out in exclamation.

Were they too late? As Orei looked about the city, she did not doubt it. A large portion of the capital was wiped out by, from what Durie said, Myrian's bow. After close inspection of the melted train, Orei knew that no ordinary fire had caused the train to melt, and to make things worse, the citizens talked about a vast battle which ended in all participants taking sail out to sea.

The locals were leaving, and Orei did not know what to do next. Her friends were alone, and potentially outmatched. She did the only thing she could, and sat down and waited. Sooner or later something would happen; Olaf may turn up with Myrian, or Myrian may turn up with Olaf.

Orei didn't know, but as they sat there, she realized when two streaking black clouds zoomed overhead that she didn't have to wait long.

...

"It’s the Inquisition." Olaf looked at Myrian with a frown. After the battle, they had retired in the guard's quarters where Myrian explained himself. Marius, Alun, and Huldain stood behind Olaf as he questioned Myrian.

"What do you mean, the ‘Inquisition’?" Asked Olaf wearily. He may have helped them but Myrian could be a devil to pin down.

Myrian rolled his eyes. "The Inquisition of Alturine: The Church of Elduin, the only god the people of Alturine are allowed to worship – the only god that the Eldar worship!"

Olaf got the point, but lacked the proof. "So what? Maybe Elduin helped out a priest, and the priest started a church – you know what religion can be like."

Myrian shook his head violently. "No," he said. "I can feel it, just as I felt the Eldar today; I told you we are linked."

Olaf frowned. Myrian was so convicted with what he was saying, the truth radiated from him.

Olaf nodded. "Very well," he said. "I will check your mind to see if you speak the truth. If you do, we will go and destroy the Eldar once and for all. If not, then I will lock you up and never let you see the light of day – understand?"

Myrian nodded and bowed his head. Olaf was surprised by this; his brother had always been so resistant. He took Myrian's head, and felt within his mind. He asked once more about the Inquisition, and the thoughts surfaced.

The golden walls inside, centuries before, when the church was still new. Myrian was wearing a cloak of a priest, and descended a set of steps that led down to a sub-basement, and a vast cavern lay beneath. Something stirred, and Myrian stayed just long enough to see a stone throne and a huge white wing. Myrian fled to his brothers who pushed him away, and so much anger fizzled within him as he travelled to Lornea alone.

The memories faded, and Olaf looked into his brother's eyes. "I am so sorry," he said, regret bubbling up inside him. He turned to the others. "Get ready. We are heading back to the Capitol!"

Myrian shook his head. "No," he said. "It will be too late. By the time we reach the city, Eldrikch will have already told his master about us. They will take hostages and we will be unable to stop them."

Eldrikch. The name fizzled around Marius's mind. He went to grip his long sword’s handle, and finding it missing, he spoke up.

"So, what do we do then?"

Myrian looked up at him and then to his brothers. "We teleport."

Huldain was the most affected by this statement; he clearly was not a fan of teleportation. Olaf simply sighed, and nodded, recognising that it was the only course of action.

He stood up and clapped. "Right. Let’s get going, then."

This forward approach took Myrian by surprise. Olaf stood in the centre of the room and looked about at his companions expectantly. Huldain sighed, and wrapped his cloak around him. Alun looked about for the moment, and then let his concerns be heard.

"I thought you said it was extremely dangerous."

Olaf looked at him and smiled. "Only if it’s done wrong. Now, hold each other’s hand, and I will be the anchor."

Marius looked at his teacher as he held both Alun and Huldain's hands. "What do you mean, the anchor?"

Myrian explained, allowing Olaf to start the chanting. "The anchor is the portal into which we enter; wherever Olaf thinks, we go. He is the medium upon which we travel."

Marius nodded; he now understood the principle, it was just the practice that worried him.

Olaf's tattoos began to shine brightly. His booming voice filled the room, and a blue light began to circle the companions. The shining light began to pulse and vibrate, causing Marius to close his eyes. A sudden giddy feeling tore him off his feet, and he felt as if was falling. he opened one eye for a moment, and saw blinding light swirl about them, forcing his eyes closed again. The spinning sensation stopped just as Marius felt something hard beneath his feet. He opened his eyes again, expecting the light, but found himself on the sculptor's roof in the Capitol, looking out at the deep trench made from Myrian's weapon.

Huldain bent over and vomited over the side of the roof, shortly followed by Alun. Olaf staggered slightly, and Marius jumped over to support him. His mentor was drained; Myrian stood on the other side of Olaf, and unsheathed his knife. Alarm flared up within Marius, and his hand instantly jumped to his black blade.

Myrian put his hands up as a sign of peace and pointed to his knife. "I was just going to do a little spell to revitalize him; that is all."

Marius looked from his exhausted teacher to the man he had been chasing. Olaf had looked inside Myrian's mind and trusted him enough to teleport. Marius took his hand off from his blade and nodded.

Myrian cut a small line across his own flesh, and then did the same thing to Olaf. Alun, Huldain, and Marius all watched as Myrian's tattoos shimmered. He placed his arm against Olaf's and immediately the old man began to flush in his cheeks. Myrian, however, seemed to lose a little colour, and Marius realized he had given his own power to his brother.

It was at this point that two streaking trails of smoke flew through the air above them, and entered the palatial estates of the Church.