by Sam Ferguson
When he spied a group of dwarves seated at the long, wooden table in the center of the hall, he sighed. He had hoped that he would have at least a few hours of privacy before the others would come to him. He hated council meetings almost as much as he disliked the funeral rites. Of course, he didn’t mean to compare the two events, as one was so obviously worse than the other, but he couldn’t help it. Every time he saw the council waiting for him, it was almost as if he was preparing to give his own funeral rites.
It wasn’t purely the weight and responsibility of being king that pulled his soul down, though that was certainly part of it. It was the lack of belonging he felt since returning home. Home. He wasn’t even sure he felt that it was his home. He had left Roegudok Hall seventy years ago, before his father had passed away. Though he had been the first born, Al had always rejected his father’s intent to crown him king one day. The smithing hammer that hung from Al’s belt even now had been the cause of a great rift between him and his father. A prince who would prefer a forge to a throne. Al had been the cause of much of his father’s worry, but Threnton had been there to step into Al’s position. In all the years since Al had left Roegudok Hall, he had only returned for his father’s funeral.
Al looked to the table, seeing the new wood that held it together now and sighed. There had been one other time when Al had returned. He had come to ask his brother for the golden scale given to the first king by the Ancients. Threnton had not only refused, but had Al thrown into a pit and left him to die. The rebuilt table was a reminder of the battle that had occurred in this very room. Al had escaped from the pit, challenged his brother for the throne, and he had won.
Had he known the extent to which Threnton would have depleted Roegudok Hall, he might never have left in the first place, or at least, that is what he would like to think would have happened.
“Sire, we have given you the first week to recuperate, as you asked, but now we must convene. There is much to discuss,” Alferug said.
Al forced a smile and moved to sit on the bench next to Alferug, his advisor in the ways of the Ancients, and a trusted steward who had also served Al’s father. Al’s choice of seat was met by four disapproving frowns. Al sighed and looked to the high-backed chair at the head of the table.
Dvek, a silver-haired dwarf with bushy brows and narrow-set, dark eyes, was the first to break the uneasy silence. “Perhaps, you should take your seat at the head of the table,” Dvek suggested with a slight deferential nod.
Al grunted and slapped the table as he rose back to his feet. He shuffled away from the bench and moved around to sit in the high-backed chair, scooting it clumsily across the stone floor toward the table. “Thank you for meeting me here,” Al said. “I know that protocol dictates we should hold council in the council chamber, but inasmuch as we are effectively reorganizing the court, I thought it fitting that we meet in the throne room.”
Al looked up and saw that the painting of his father was hung over the entrance, next to a portrait of Sylus. From both the table, and the throne, Al would be in clear view of the two kings he revered most. He had hoped that the paintings would give him inspiration. However, as he sat at the roughly repaired table in the middle of the throne room now, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of their gaze in more of a scrutinizing light.
“Yes, I believe the symbolic nature of the choice is fitting,” Alferug said quickly. “I also appreciate that the repaired table we find ourselves at is the same one destroyed by the fight with your brother, Threnton. It gives a sense of duty, but also shows the hope of renewal.”
If Dvek or the other two dwarves present agreed with Alferug, they didn’t show it. Dvek merely grunted, and the other two were silent.
Alferug cleared his throat and turned to matters at hand. “My king, we have much to discuss, but we propose to settle the matter of who will fill the vacancy left by Faengoril the Bull first.”
Al nodded. He glanced at Dvek, who was quietly looking down at the table, and then looked to the other two dwarves. Captain Benbo was a stout dwarf, fiery red hair worked neatly into a single plait fastened with a silver band at the bottom. His arms were large, even by dwarf standards. However, unlike most dwarves, he was rumored to be unable to grow a full beard. At least, that was what others said when discussing the single braid coming down from Benbo’s chin that was almost identical to his plaited hair. Facial hair notwithstanding, Benbo was very much a dwarf in all the right ways. Al had heard Faengoril praise Benbo on several occasions as well, which carried significant weight.
Opposite Benbo sat a stoic dwarf with jet black hair that frizzed out in all directions, somewhat resembling a lion’s mane. A heavy purple scar ran from left eyebrow to the tip of this dwarf’s nose, and was the cause for the dead, white eye. Captain Kijik had more than made up for his lost eye, though. He was as tough as they came, and, unlike Benbo, he sported a full, thick beard that nearly passed his belly button.
These were the only two dwarves recommended for the position of Minister of Defense.
Al cleared his throat and all eyes fell upon him. “Captain Kijik, I have heard great things about your service in the north with the Lievonian Order. From what I have been told, you slew a great number of Tarthuns and fought in a way that would make any dwarf proud to call you brother. Truly, a hero of such renown and ability is a rarity.”
Dvek and Alferug rapped their knuckles on the table, signifying their agreement with Al’s assessment. Captain Kijik nodded his appreciation, but remained silent.
Al then turned to Captain Benbo. “You were with Faengoril for his last battle.” Al paused and took in a breath. Since he had heard of Faengoril’s heroic sacrifice, he had a hard time putting the image of the warrior being buried alive out of his mind. “What Faengoril did brought about the destruction of many Tarthuns who would have otherwise attacked the Lievonian Order from behind. I have the utmost respect for Faengoril the Bull. He knew not only strategy, but also how to make the tough command decisions. Not only that, but he never shied away from danger. I personally fought beside him at Valtuu Temple when we found Tu’luh the Red there. He was a magnificent warrior, and he was an excellent advisor.” Al shook his head and studied Benbo’s eyes.
“I bring this to your attention, because Faengoril praised you, Captain Benbo. He told me how he felt about you. That was why he assigned you to his army when we set out from Roegudok Hall after the last council I held here. Truth be told, the decision is an easy one in that Faengoril already made a recommendation for his replacement.”
“He did?” Alferug cut in. “I was not aware of that.”
Al nodded. “It was something between me and him,” Al explained. “I have his note here.” Al pulled a folded letter from his pocket and set it on the table. Captains Kijik and Benbo both turned to stare at the folded letter. Al slid his fingers under the fold and opened it to reveal a short letter. “He asked me to make Benbo the next Minister of Defense in the event of his death,” Al said.
Captain Kijik did his best to hide it, but the disappointment flashed across his face and his shoulders dropped just a hair for half a second before he rose to his feet and saluted Benbo.
“A wise choice,” Kijik said. He then turned to Al. “If that is all, sire, I shall return to my station.”
Al nodded. “That would be well,” he said. Kijik turned to leave, but Al held up a hand. “Do you know the way?” Al asked.
Kijik frowned. “Of course, sire.”
Al waved his hand and shook his head. “No, I mean, do you know your way to the Home Guard offices?”
“Sire?” Captain Kijik asked.
Al pointed to Benbo. “This is my new minister of defense. He will work on rebuilding our army. However, I have been thinking that the Home Guard needs a revitalization as well. I am appointing you as the General and Commanding Officer of the Home Guard. I want you to take the Home Guard, and make each one of its members as fierce and fearsome as you were on that battlefield in the north.”
Kijik smiled and nodded. “Yes, my king.”
“What of General Grubo?” Alferug asked.
Al nodded knowingly. “Grubo is retiring from the Home Guard,” Al said.
“I didn’t hear of this either,” Alferug said with a frown.
“Both of his sons died at Fort Drake,” Al explained. “He approached me after the funeral rites and asked to be released.”
Alferug nodded understandingly.
“General Kijik, you may go. If you have any questions as to your duties, you will find Grubo’s lieutenants eager to help acquaint you with your new responsibilities.”
Kijik bowed low and left the throne room.
Al then turned to Benbo. “Your first order of business will be to report on the status of the cavedog breeding program. After you have ensured that we can replenish our stock of cavedogs, then you can begin recruiting new soldiers.”
“If I may,” Benbo started somewhat timidly.
Al arched a brow and nodded.
“I thought in addition to soldiers, I could expand our ranks of healers and surgeons.”
Al furrowed his brow and reached up to stroke his gray and red beard. “Expecting more trouble that soon?” Al asked.
Benbo shook his head. “No, my king. But, I thought that perhaps if we could expand in those areas, as well as commandeering some engineers, we could venture out into the Middle Kingdom and offer assistance rebuilding from the war.”
Al nodded and smiled. “That is an excellent idea. It will not only help take the burden off of King Mathias, but it will also show a continued solidarity with him. I see now why Faengoril chose you. Do what you need to, and coopt as many engineers as you need.”
Dvek interjected, “With respect, I will need most of the engineers here.”
“Our buildings have sustained no damage,” Al said quickly.
Dvek nodded and continued. “True, however, since you have been gone, our mines have dried up entirely. We have not been able to produce enough ore for the smelting facilities for months.”
“You have full command of the miners,” Al said. “You can dig new tunnels as you need.”
Dvek nodded again. “I appreciate that, sire, but there is more to it than that. The shafts we are digging now go through a strange mixture of rock and soil. I have needed to assign engineers to the mines to help stabilize them. Normally the miners could do it themselves, except I split the miners into many smaller groups in an effort to cut the time needed locating a productive mine. Usually we run only two shafts at a time, but I have them drilling and cutting six shafts.”
“Six?” Al repeated. “I have never heard of that many being mined at once.”
Dvek sighed. “The mines all dried without warning,” he said. “They also ran dry within days of each other. Seeing as we have little food reserves, I thought it best to maximize the search for gems and precious metals to enable us to purchase food from outside sources.”
“What about the valley near the top of the mountain?” Al asked. “Isn’t it producing yet? It has been well over a year since I left. I told you to focus on farming.”
Alferug cut in. “Sire, it is not his fault. The fields of Two Peak Valley that sit near the top of Roegudok Hall were abandoned by your brother, and turned to pasture for sheep.”
“We always raised sheep there too,” Al said. “How did that become a problem?”
Alferug sighed and pointed back to Dvek.
Dvek nodded and tapped his right hand nervously. “Your brother commanded me to abandon our crops in the valley in favor of raising more sheep. By his reasoning, if we raised enough sheep, we wouldn’t need to hunt outside the mountain. So, in obeying his orders, we multiplied the sheep until they overran the valley. They ate everything, and became so numerous that they polluted the lake there as well, and the fish have suffered. We have culled the sheep back to manageable numbers, but the valley has not yet produced crops. I do believe it will produce this year, but I am afraid it will not produce enough to supply for the winter.”
“What about the cave-rice and the fish growing in the reservoirs?” Al asked. “There are three separate reservoirs managed in Twin Peak. Do you mean to tell me that none of them are producing cave-rice anymore? We have grown cave-rice there for as long as I can remember, and there was never a shortage. It may be that it’s hard to boil and tougher to chew, but it is food.”
Dvek sighed again. “The spring that provides culinary water throughout Roegudok Hall has also run dry. I have assigned dwarves to find a new source of water, but until one can be located, the reservoirs are now used for culinary purposes.”
“It seems my brother has left me many problems,” Al said.
“Actually, sire, there is more,” Dvek said slowly. He worked his thumb on the table in front of him, digging into the wood with his nail as he took in a deep breath, obviously hesitant.
“Spit it out, Dvek,” Al commanded. “I may as well hear all of the bad news.”
“Have you heard of the Greenband?” Dvek asked.
Al frowned and glanced to Alferug. With a shrug he replied, “Sure, they are one of the most powerful merchant guilds in the Middle Kingdom. They are also fairly hostile to anyone who borrows money from them. What do they have to do with us?”
“As you said, sire, they are hostile to individuals, or groups, that have borrowed money from them.”
Al thumped his hand down on the table and narrowed his eyes on Dvek. “You didn’t?”
Dvek shook his head quickly. “No, no, I didn’t, but your brother did. The mines were producing less and less over the last decade, to be honest. Your brother went into deep debt with the Greenband.”
“And now they are calling their debt due?” Al guessed.
Dvek nodded. “So you see, we need to expand the mines below for more than just the ability to buy food. If we don’t pay the Greenband back for every bit we owe them, they will levy sanctions against us. If they do that, there won’t be a merchant in all of the Middle Kingdom that will be able to do business with us until the sanctions are taken off.”
“What do we owe them?” Al asked.
Dvek shook his head and sighed. “I have tried to gather everything we have on hand. We have twenty tons of marble, another three tons of iron, as well of stores of zinc, and a few other minerals. In addition to this, I have separated a couple hundred head of sheep, several crates of wool, porcelain, and pewter crafts. Still, when I totaled everything we have, it doesn’t cover a fifth of what your brother owes them.”
Al leaned forward and let his forehead thunk on the table. “Stonebubbles and beetle spit,” he swore. “We are that far in debt?”
Dvek nodded. “I didn’t know the extent of it until I received the list from a Greenband collector just a couple of weeks before you returned.”
Al shook his head. “Save the iron. We can perhaps fashion it into arms and armor. That will sell for more than raw ore. Keep the sheep back as well. We need the food. Send the rest of it as a good faith payment and let them know that I will do what I can to repay my brother’s debt.”
“Of course, sire.”
The king shook his head. “Alright, do what you can. Take what engineers you truly need for the mines, Dvek, but do try to spare any engineers for Benbo that you can. Perhaps we can barter services for food, if it comes to that.”
“As you command.” Dvek said.
“Actually,” Alferug said as he turned his body to Al. “Do you remember when we first came into Roegudok Hall together, we found that library?”
Al nodded. “I remember.”
“Your father often referred to it as the wealth of kings. Perhaps we can find answers there.”
“Why haven’t you looked in there already?” Al asked, his tone taking on a sharp edge.
Alferug patted the air with his left hand. “I tried,” he said. “If you recall, the entrance through that mirror sealed upon our exit. I have not been able to find the way to open it.”
“My father never told you?” Al asked.
Alferug shook his head. “As I told you before, he never told me about it. I was unaware of its existence until we walked through it together.”
“I do remember seeing a chest inside,” Al said as he recalled his brief moments in the library. “If it has gems or coins, then it could help us buy what we need until we find productive mines.”
“I have gathered a few clues for you, sire, and placed them in your study,” Alferug said.
“Then I will continue mining while you work on that puzzle,” Dvek offered.
Al nodded. “I wanted to ask one more thing,” he said as the others started to leave. They stopped and turned back to him. “My grandfather reinstituted our traditions and relationship with the Ancients. My father kept that tradition. My brother did not. Alferug, now that you are again fulfilling your role as Advisor on Tradition and the Ancients, what has been the people’s reaction to resuming our traditions and religion?”
Alferug frowned and shook his head. “I am afraid that it has not gone as well as hoped. Another reason for our lack of productivity, which pains us to talk about, is the fact that many of the previous officers and dwarves who held authority under your brother’s rule have left the mountain.”
“They left?” Al asked incredulously.
“You seem surprised,” Dvek said. “Yet, you yourself left the mountain.”
Al shook his head and leaned into the back of his chair. “It is true that I left, but before that, very few dwarves had ever left the mountain permanently who weren’t exiled. In fact, I think that if we count from the time of the first king, we are only talking about a handful of dwarves. However, what you are saying is that a group of dwarves have left together, am I correct?”
