Iriala rose from her seat, casting her gaze around at all those assembled and willing them to get their godsforsaken heads out of their asses, just this once. Word had gotten around quickly among all those who mattered last night, of course, but she could tell that most of the people here hadn’t come looking to make themselves useful. That it had taken nearly a full day to organize this meeting was testament to the fact that no one here was planning to do anything to handle the situation.
General Arice was eyeing the door as if he couldn’t wait to get out of here and make all this someone else’s problem. Now that he could take credit for saving Halfbridge from a major assault, he was ready to retire back to life at court in Teres. In his mind, losing an entire city to a similar assault only made his own supposed achievement shine brighter.
Count Narald and Gerold, the magistrate, were focused on Halfbridge’s coffers – trying to work out how to get through the winter and feed the thousands of refugees that would be coming down the road in the next week or two. They were already stretched thin in the aftermath of the siege.
The guilds were still reeling from the battle. They’d suffered losses, and none were eager to put more of their members at risk. It really only left her with one option – the one she’d spent her entire career avoiding.
“Loamfurth has fallen,” she began, sticking to the facts, first. “My scryers have spent hours examining the aftermath, and agree that the forces involved are at least equal in number to those seen here in Halfbridge. Duergar and demons were seen sweeping through the streets in large groups as recently as an hour ago, rooting out any survivors who didn’t manage to escape. They made no attempt to block our scrying attempts.”
“How many Duergar, exactly?” Arice said in a carefully polite tone that still managed to suggest that she was exaggerating. Several of the nobles began to whisper amongst themselves, but Iriala ignored both them and Arice and forged ahead.
“Judging by the number of refugees sighted on the roads, we estimate that Nuros, the demon lord we believe to be responsible for this aggression, could have captured and consumed as many as thirty thousand souls. The exact numbers would depend on the type and placement of the soulstone used, and how quickly they managed to set it up.”
The blunt pronouncement was met with dead silence.
“Thirty thousand?!” Arice spluttered. “That’s ridiculous! Impossible!”
He was right, technically. Even if the soulstone had been at the very center of the city, and they managed to put it up immediately after starting the assault, she doubted that they would have captured even ten thousand. All magic had limits, and that included the capacity of the soulstones themselves – never mind their range and the speed at which people would run away from a horde of demons pouring into their streets. Ten thousand was bad enough, in her estimation, but Iriala needed to maximize the shock factor for this meeting. She needed to provoke a response from the temples.
“Chief Solicitor Radast warned us a month ago in this very room that the Duergar are attempting to create and instrumentalize a greater demon,” she continued, not bothering to reply to the general. “While they mostly failed here, we must assume that they have now succeeded at Loamfurth.”
Nervous chatter erupted all over the room. Several of the attendees tried to call out questions, including Arice, but Iriala couldn’t make them out. Narald, for his part, was silent. He sat back in his chair, gray-faced and looking as though he’d aged a decade in the space of a few seconds.
Iriala, focused her gaze to the right side of the room, where the clergy were assembled. There were six of them, three priests and three paladins. She’d expected them to say something at this point, but they remained silent. With a bit of effort and a discreet hand-motion, she cast a cantrip to amplify her voice.
“There are some better news as well! As I’m sure General Arice’s own interrogators will corroborate, we are not the only ones who may take issue with our enemy’s actions. In fact, these Duergar, and the demons they are working to empower, likely only see us as a resource to help them fuel a larger conflict – a civil war against greater powers within their own empire.”
At that, Narald held up his hand, silencing the room. He’d been shaken by the news, but he was watching her now with sharp eyes.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “Where are you getting this?”
“I interrogated one of the Duergar mages,” she explained. “King Grundrik—whose people and demons we’ve been fighting—is just one of many rulers within the larger Duergar Empire. Considering what he’s doing, I would guess that he’s targeting us in hopes of raising a greater demon where the rest of the empire won’t notice.”
Arice scoffed loudly. “Come on! You can’t believe everything you hear, archmage. If the Empire were so large, the Duergar would have conquered the world by now!”
“Right, of course!” Iriala said with false sincerity. “Because they want our land. I’m sure they want to take up wheat farming and go sunbathing. Perhaps they’ll become sailors!”
There were a few titters. The idiot grew red in the face and spluttered, but then subsided with a thunderous expression. He’d really set himself up for that one. Most dwarves avoided living on the surface if they could manage it – especially those who weren’t born there. They avoided spending time outdoors when possible. Their eyes were sensitive to bright sunlight and they suffered terrible sunburns if they didn’t take proper precautions. Dwarven nations barely treated the surface as real territory, to the point that the Confederacy of Dwarven City States didn’t truly enforce their borders as their neighbors recognized them. Gnolls, orcs and trolls roamed freely through their mountains and forests, so long as they didn’t try to intrude into their halls.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Before the general could attempt to defend his wounded pride, though, one of the priests finally stepped forward. Iriala tried to keep the relief off her face. It had taken them long enough.
“Friends, hear me and listen!" he said in a sonorous voice. "The archmage speaks wisely, though I would caution greater prudence. In the worst case scenario, we are playing the role of Illuria in a Duergar reenactment of the Madurian collapse. Until proven otherwise, this is what we must assume to be the truth.”
He was an older man in white and red robes – a high priest of Noruk. Iriala thought his name might be Jannis, or something like that. She usually went out of her way to avoid anyone from the Temple District. That was a policy that would now have to change, unfortunately. Priests were usually considered observers in court, but this wasn’t just a purely political issue anymore. Nobody interrupted him when he spoke.
“Once the fighting starts, the other factions in their empire will likely attempt to counter using the same methods. If the empire is truly as large as these captives imply, there’s no telling where they might spring up then. They might appear under Teres, in Madzhur or even in Illuria across the Sea. The Duergar wish to spit in the eyes of the gods themselves. And the gods will not remain silent.”
The count squinted at him skeptically. “What did you have in mind, exactly?”
“This is a spiritual matter as much as it is political, my lord,” the priest pronounced, taking his time with the words to lend them additional weight. In Iriala’s opinion, he was laying it on a bit too thick.
“It was only through the gods themselves that we survived the fall of the empire and it will be through them that we defeat the present evil as well. Noruk calls for war. We must build a holy coalition to root out this evil from beneath the earth.” The high priest turned to fully face the count and offered him a slight bow. “My lord, we are not just one city, or one kingdom, set against this foe. My brethren in Madzhur, Illuria and Kallrix will support us and bring aid from all across the land. Even the heads of kings must bow before the will of the gods.”
Iriala managed to suppress an eyeroll at the priest’s overblown words. Barely. The high priest wanted to… what? Mobilize the entire former empire – except Miria, for some reason – and march their armies down into the Depths to destroy the Duergar Empire directly? She supposed it was the sort of initiative she should have expected from the Madurian god of war.
Narald was looking at the high priest with clear exasperation, obviously trying to think of a way to deny him without also disparaging his famously hot-tempered god. Iriala looked back toward the other representatives from the Temple District, hoping one of them would step up to fix this.
None of them moved to speak. She ground her teeth. Surely, the other temples, never mind the gods themselves, wouldn’t just let Noruk try to drag half the continent to war? Then one of them, an elderly paladin, looked up to meet her eyes for a moment and raised his eyebrows just a fraction.
And there it was. Those assholes. They were waiting for her to make a move, to drag her into their stupid games. As if she didn’t have enough problems.
But she’d known this was going to happen sooner or later. Suppressing her irritation and keeping her face calm, Iriala cleared her throat.
“If I may, it seems… premature to attempt to drag the entire continent into a war in unknown territory against a mostly unknown enemy. We are not at war with the entire Duergar Empire – not yet. Moreover, if I remember my history, four of the gods worked together to safeguard humanity the last time we faced such a crisis. Would it not be appropriate for the temples of Balarian, Ruzinia and Eyeli to involve themselves in this matter as well? Should they not, at the least, be consulted, lest we raise their ire?”
“Ah… yes, this is true!” Count Narald looked at her like a drowning man who’d just been thrown a rope. In a more formal tone, he addressed the priest. “High Priest Hannis, honored representatives of the temples, I hereby request the counsel of the gods. Please summon the appropriate representatives to court tomorrow, so that we may find the best way forward.”
Hannis looked only a little annoyed as he sketched a bow and stepped back. This was probably what they’d all been expecting. Except now Iriala had taken some sort of side in temple politics, and she didn’t even know what all the current fault lines were.
***
Bernt boiled water in Kustov’s stone kettle as he sorted through Lin’s selection of herbal teas. The old goblin witch had become a fixture in the Underkeepers’ complex, fielding complaints from the public – especially from the Goblin Quarter – and keeping the break room well stocked. In exchange, Fiora didn’t send her out on patrol.
It had been a long day and night had already fallen up on the surface, but he wasn’t ready to go home yet. All that waited for him there was an empty house and more spellcasting practice. It felt wrong to waste time, but he couldn’t keep going like this forever. He needed to relax, even if it was just for a few minutes. Otherwise, he was going to burn himself out.
At least that was what he tried to tell himself.
Selecting one that smelled nice, Bernt dumped a pinch into the steaming pot, grabbed three cups and carried it back to the table where Torvald and Nirlig were already sitting. As he approached, though, he noticed someone new had joined them. A white-robed woman was speaking with Torvald and throwing uncomfortable glances at Nirlig and the other goblins in the room. She wore a laurel wreath on her head, and a belt made of rough woven fibers that had been dyed green. He recognized the getup – she was a priestess of Eyeli, the goddess of agriculture.
“Come on, Theona, isn’t this the sort of thing priests usually handle?” Torvald asked, looking flustered. “I mean, I’m a paladin, and I just barely got my calling!”
“Right! But Ruzinian pilgrims are notoriously difficult to pin down,” the priestess explained. “There isn't anyone else! It’s a matter of principle. Ruzinia has to be represented at the meeting, if only out of precedent. Not inviting you would be disrespectful to the goddess, since she’s one of the four.”
Bernt put the tea down and pulled another chair over, wordlessly inviting her to sit as he settled down himself. She declined with a little shake of her head and an embarrassed cough.
“Wait, wait. The last time?” Nirlig threw in. “You mean three hundred years ago?”
Theona didn’t look at the goblin, keeping her gaze on Torvald. “Nobody is expecting you to figure it all out yourself. Mostly, we just need you to help us keep the Temple of Noruk in check. Just show up, alright?”
With that, she backed away a step before turning and leaving the room.
Bernt watched her leave, trying to make sense of what he’d heard. Shaking his head, he looked from Torvald to Nirlig and back again.
“So… what in the hells was that about?”