Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave stared at two gargantuan metal slabs, craning his neck to see the totality of them. Something that was made to contain magma certainly couldn’t be humble. Cold air emanated from the two of them, and despite the general heat of their surroundings, these metal parts created a neat atmosphere in their vicinity.

To his left, there was Melanie. She looked quite apprehensive about being here, and she toyed with the pommel of her divine weapon—a black, two-handed blade of chitin that had no point. And to his right was Trifon, looking considerably dejected. He had good reason to be—the dwarf knew that Argrave had unearthed some corruption in their Dwarven Senate. That was a source of great shame for any self-respecting dwarf, and if there was even the vaguest possibility it got back to their governing body… both twins would be ruined, forever. A capital punishment would be a light punishment, most simply.

“What will you tell the senate?” Trifon asked quietly, all of his previous boisterous manner lost.

Argrave turned. He tapped the Resonant Pillar on the ground—a staff that looked to be made of jade, two rings on its points. Though he used it as nothing more than walking stick now, this weapon had helped him beat Mozzahr. “What would you like me to tell them?”

Trifon looked at Argrave as though any of his words might be a test from a god. “Well… we were sent to retrieve two who might convey this method of forging dwarven metal, and bring them back. And seeing as that’s what’s done… maybe we can let bygones be bygones?” The dwarf asked hopefully. “I would never forget the pity shown by His Majesty. I would be your humble slave.”

An idea came to mind, and Argrave looked at his companion. “Melanie, he wants us to let bygones be bygones. What do you think about that?” He talked as though the dwarf wasn’t there, just as the twins had done to him some hours ago.

Melanie caught on, and barely kept her smile at bay as she returned her part of the act. “Bygones? They want us to make both of their illustrious careers in the senate bygones? Was that our plan? I can’t remember, Your Majesty. What did we intend to do with them?”

Argrave smiled at her. It hadn’t been easy to break these two dwarves once the truth was out. They resisted their little psychological game for a long time. But once it became clear the Dwarven Senate expected these two to return with two others at tow, it was as easy enough game to rig. To ensure compliance, Kostis, the most annoying of the two, had been detained. That was not an unusual happening for envoys, and was perhaps why two had been sent in the first place.

“Please,” Trifon pleaded, stepping up before them and kneeling down. “It was a stupid thing we did—unforgivable. But I can be of great help to you! I can make sure that everything goes perfectly. I brought you both, but even still, you are strangers in our strange land.”

“You did bring us. What does that count for, I wonder?” Argrave grabbed the necklace at his neck. But the dwarf was wrong on one account—he didn’t bring both of them. This necklace contained the Alchemist, so he brought all three of them—seven, if one counted his Brumesingers. And of course, he still had his connection with Elenore, making the tally eight.

The moment his finger brushed the pendant, he heard the Alchemist’s voice pervade his mind. “You waste time with this chatter.”

Argrave projected his own voice back into the Ravenstone. “We’re waiting for the magma to clear. You can’t even see anything—why so judgmental?”

Argrave heard no response back from the Alchemist. He was certain the man was still pouting—their plan wasn’t entirely to his satisfaction. Things weren’t to Argrave’s satisfaction, either, but change forced this circumstance. According to the twins, shortly after their victory with the Ebon Cult, someone new had come to the dwarven people, carrying with him the vaguest hint of how to forge dwarven metal, and the promise to complete the rest. The only reason that the dwarves had even considered Argrave’s proposal was because this person had not yet completed his work. They hoped to give Argrave and his kingdom a chance, as the desperate circumstances demanded it. Argrave dreaded this mysterious helper might be Traugott—from description, it was no one he knew, just a man named Dario.

But after learning of the urgency, Argrave brought the Alchemist and Melanie down. He had deliberated between Anneliese and Melanie as his partner, but ultimately the mercenary’s blessing would prove more useful to them in these caverns, and Anneliese had more than proven herself as regent. Argrave had never doubted her to begin with, but he was happy to see her get recognition.

Their purpose was largely to scout for Sandelabara, but Argrave did wish to foster positive relationships with the Dwarven Senate. Their vast tunnels might be instrumental in securing victory against the Chu. Through them, Argrave had some hope of genuinely reaching the continent the Chu resided on. To earn passage for a whole army, though, he’d need one hell of a silver tongue. Maybe more than silver—fragile metals tended to burn in the senate.

A haunting hiss from above disturbed Argrave’s review of his plans, and upon looking up, he saw steam jetting outward. Trifon walked up to the metal slab. “It’s… done, then, Your Majesty. The magma moat will not remain open for any longer than five minutes. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble spanning the distance.”

Argrave smiled at Trifon’s complete turnaround in demeanor. The dwarf almost seemed sweet in these new interactions. “Then open it, please.”

Trifon drew a needle from his pouch and pricked his finger. He splayed blood across the metal slabs, and the hissing intensified. Argrave felt seismic shifts as the colossal thing whirred and whistled, then the metal gate dropped down quickly while gaining momentum. When it hit the bottom, it rang mightily, bouncing up before settling down. They stepped through a metal hallway. At once, Argrave could feel the discomfort of the spirits trapped within him. They detested dwarven metal, perhaps fittingly so—it was partially made of their kin.

But after a time the metal hall ended, and Argrave entered a long road of the purest marble. Triumphal arches lined the elevated bridge ahead, depicting dwarves in all of their exaggerated glory. On either side, two unstoppable masses of magma slowly crawled toward them. It was not merely a flowing stream—it was a titanic wall slowly closing in. It must’ve been a thousand feet tall. Even from here, Argrave could feel its heat. The marble could, too—it hissed, the ice on its surface melting and rising to the air as though adding dramatic effect for the pathway. On the vast, uneven caverns that marked the path of the magma, Argrave could barely eye machinery concealed in dark recesses. They were still dripping with magma as evidence of their recent purge.

“Pretty little road. Could we get one at home, you think?” Melanie asked Argrave as they walked along.

Argrave chuckled in good nature. “I’ll have to ask my sister about that. Might be a little beyond our budget.”

Trifon snuck glances at them as they entered. The wall of magma closing in was an immeasurably intimidating sight. When they finally made it to the other side of the pathway, Argrave heard and felt rumbling. From behind, he watched as the bridge retracted back in. He was baffled that they could so completely hide it away, even having seen it before in the game. It would be kept chilled in preparation for the next passengers. If it weren’t, it would grow so hot so quickly that the marble itself might morph—not to mention their feet.

Argrave passed through another wide metal hallway. At the end, there was another triumphal arch. This one was small, though—too small. Trifon passed underneath without issue, and then Melanie ducked low and passed beyond. Argrave had to crouch very low. He was almost certain he would’ve fallen in the attempt without the strength of the divine artifacts coursing through his veins. Yet passing beyond that archway proved a prudent decision, and at once Argrave’s eyes thanked him for it.

There was a term for Rome. Caput mundi—capital of the world. At one time, perhaps it might’ve been the center of the world. But this city before them truly was the center of this world, built amidst the planet’s core. And Argrave could not deny that it truly fit the title. The orderly beauty to the marble, the impeccable cleanliness, the towering constructions, all illuminated by the magma piping through the city like blood. And in vague recognition of the city it was inspired from, this city was called Mundi. All roads did indeed lead to it.

Argrave knew this city well. For warriors, there was no better place to go seeking weapons and armor save those you might receive from a god. And from a lore perspective, there were few other places like it. Argrave held nothing but reverence for the great dwarven migration, where they reclaimed the land of the planet’s core—their feat was much grander than the typical land reclamation project. This entire city followed the grand design of one genius architect and leader, whose statue stood at the back with both of his sculpted hands planted against the marble dome above. His ingenuity allowed his people to live where no people ought to live—and live their best lives doing so.

“Gods… maybe being short isn’t so bad after all,” Melanie said coyly. “What a view…”

Argrave agreed silently, but his gaze slowly settled on the people gathered far ahead of them. It was a veritable procession of gawkers come to watch, and at their head stood some very important people.

“Please. I was told you to escort you right to the Dwarven Senate, Your Majesty,” Trifon dipped his head to Argrave.

“Let’s go,” Argrave nodded, touching the Ravenstone to tell his trapped compatriot of their arrival.

“We’re here, it seems,” the Alchemist’s voice rung in his head before Argrave could say a word. “We need to hasten. Either ruin things quickly, or do everything perfectly. We have no time to dally. I must search for Sandelabara.”

Argrave took his hand free of the Ravenstone, almost upset he’d touched it. Right, he thought. Just do everything perfectly. Great advice.

Argrave and Melanie followed Trifon into the waiting crowd of dwarven people, where a rather intimidating mission awaited them. And their competition… Argrave didn’t know who this ‘Dario’ might be, but they’d had a long time to weave their web over the dwarves. He only hoped he wasn’t too late.