Cronica Acadia

by C. J. Deering

  They had never seen the Silent Woman this crowded in all the nights they had spent there. And they had arrived just in time. A few minutes after they got their table, it was standing room only. “So where is the Odeon?” asked Ashlyn.

  “Right there,” said Angus pointing to a raised wooden stage against the wall.

  “That’s it?” asked Ashlyn.

  “It might not look like much, but we’ve had some world-class acts perform here,” said Angus. What a shock it must have been for a world-class act to finally see the celebrated Odeon, thought Dangalf. “Clan Wintergreen Dancers,” continued Angus. “Alfred Hawthorn Hill’s Poetry Festival,” he said with a nod to the humans. “Six-Fingered Mungan. Back when he still had eight fingers. Clan Millstone Precision Goat Riders.”

  “Precision goat riders!” said Dangalf.

  “Well,” said Angus. “After seeing the Odeon, they decided it would be best to have the performance outside.”

  The Cronica programmers must not have known of, or intentionally ignored, the modest nature of the real Odeon at Hammersmith as they had created a massive and architecturally grand Odeon in the virtual Hammersmith. As the game had gained in popularity and become more culturally significant, top-name music and comedy acts performed digitally in the Odeon before an audience of player avatars. It didn’t matter how anachronistic the particular act was to the Cronica world as long as they were well known. Celebrity was the corrupting force of everything in the old world.

  Ashlyn rolled her eyes at Dangalf. The Odeon might not be as pleasant a diversion as she had hoped. Dangalf could only smile sympathetically. A man took to the stage and began playing a hurdy gurdy. They smoked and drank, and soon the underwhelming Odeon was something else to laugh about even as they enjoyed the dwarven musicians who rotated through it.

  Angus patted Nerdraaage on the back affectionately. “Good news, lad,” he said loudly over the hurdy gurdy. “Your blood tested as pure as the driven snow. As I knew it would.” Nerdraaage had stained some of his blood on a scroll for Angus while they were still in Hempshire when Angus had promised to send it to lorekeepers, the dwarven sages, for cataloguing. “But unsullied blood is just one facet of the gem. Another is your clan. I don’t have to tell you that you won’t get far in this world without a clan. It’s unnatural. I mean, look at how you’re dressed and who you associate with. No offense intended,” he offered to the other Keepers.

  Doppelganger giggled at this and Ashlyn touched his hand. “A baked warrior,” she said. “I like you better this way.”

  “God you’re so fucking hot,” said Doppelganger, leaning into Ashlyn. She took her hand from his, but it was not for displeasure that she recoiled.

  “Yeah, she is,” agreed Dangalf, who was too stoned to be jealous.

  “And,” continued Angus. “If you don’t belong to a good clan…” and he finished that sentence in Old Dwarvish.

  “That makes sense,” said Nerdraaage when actually he was still trying to make sense of what Angus had said as he was not used to this strong dwarven beer and was baked on top of that and not fluent in Old Dwarvish and not especially clever to begin with.

  “Well,” continued Angus, now turning to his other tablemates. “I don’t have to tell any of you the long, storied history of Clan Stonefist.”

  “No, you don’t!” said Ashlyn as more plea than agreement. Her friends giggled.

  “Of course not,” agreed Angus. “Our reputation is as good as adamantine. So what I’m getting around to is this: how would you like to join Clan Stonefist?”

  “Yeah, okay,” said a totally inebriated Nerdraaage, and they pounded each other’s chest three times to seal the deal.

  Angus stepped onto the table and, with a voice that was actually able to quiet the noisy inn, announced: “Listen up, dwarves. Many of you know that Clan Stonefist is expanding along with my wife’s belly. And we look forward to that blessed day in another eighty-four months.” The crowd cheered loudly except for those that were not inclined to Clan Stonefist, but they dared protest only silently with folded arms. “But before that time, I am pleased to announce that there is to be a joining ceremony in which we welcome this lad who is to be orphaned no more. Cheers for my new brother, Nerdraaage!” The crowed cheered, and his friends congratulated and patted Nerdraaage. He looked up at them bleary eyed. “The newest member of a clan that goes back thirty thousand years!” added Angus.

  Dangalf had noticed this about dates in the Cronica Acadia. Many major events were recorded as happening “ten thousand years ago.” And he had come to the conclusion that “ten thousand years ago” was shorthand for “a really, really long time ago and too far back to say with any accuracy.” And “twenty thousand years ago” was twice that long. But “thirty thousand years ago” was a particularly dwarven claim and should be taken with a grain of salt.

  “What?” said Nerdraaage of the hoopla.

  “You’re joining Clan Stonefist,” said Dangalf. “That’s one of the best clans in the game.” Then he turned to Angus to try to explain his remark. “I mean in this world. I mean, in any world.”

  “The best!” said Angus leaning into Dangalf. “The royal clans take turns on the throne, but the Praetorian Guard is never unemployed!”

  And the five of them clashed cups together. “Clan Stonefist!” they toasted. Nerdraaage smiled proudly. “Well that sucks,” whispered Ashlyn.

  “What do you mean it sucks?” slurred Nerdraaage.

  “You can never be king of the dwarves.”

  But the Keepers’ excitement over the joining ceremony may have been tempered, or quashed altogether, if they knew that there were only two ways to join a clan. And one of those ways, being born into it, was no longer an option for Nerdraaage.

  XXXI

  Hammersmith had gone to sleep. The only noise outside was the sound of drunken dwarves tumbling into and out of second-story shitehouses before heading off to bed. The Keepers got one large room in the inn and shared it. Nerdraaage was passed out when they brought him up, so he got to sleep on the floor. Dangalf also got onto the floor, perhaps out of habit, and fell asleep. Doppelganger took a bed. It was dwarven, which means it was plenty sturdy for him but only accommodated his frame down to his knees. Nonetheless he passed out quickly. Ashlyn knew she would pass out soon, but first she allowed herself a liberty she had never allowed before. She looked over at Doppelganger’s broad, bare chest and unshaven face and thought about what he had said to her earlier that night. In the few seconds before she passed out, she acknowledged to her shame and dismay that Doppelganger too was “so fucking hot.”

  XXXII

  Doppelganger awoke to his friends chatting softly and Nerdraaage dressing. “Do you have enough money?” asked Dangalf.

  “I think so. I was trying to think about what kind of supplies I’ll need to buy,” answered Nerdraaage. “Burglary tools. Poisons. Some poisons are supposed to be really expensive.”

  “Well, you won’t need everything your first day,” said Dangalf.

  “I hope I don’t have to buy a lot of books,” said Nerdraaage.

  “I’m sure you’ll get some books,” said Dangalf.

  “I hope not as much as you,” said Nerdraaage.

  “No class needs as many books as the wizard class.”

  “Is Ashlyn awake?” Doppelganger asked.

  “No,” said Dangalf.

  “Yes,” said Ashlyn as she rolled over in the direction of her friends. She even looked beautiful just waking up after a night of drinking and smoking. Dangalf wanted to tell her how he felt, but he knew that those words would not win her heart. And Doppelganger and Nerdraaage would make fun of him. Or they would be so scandalized that they would be unable to mock him, and that would be even worse.

  “First day of school?” she asked Nerdraaage.

  “Yes,” he smiled.

  “Our little dwarf is growing up,” she said.

  “Metaphorically speaking,” added Dangalf.

  Angus kn
ocked and entered when called. “Angus,” said Nerdraaage. “Thanks again for inviting me to the clan.”

  “My pleasure, lad,” answered Angus. “Course we won’t have the ceremony until after you’re done school.” Nerdraaage’s friends wished him luck as Angus took him away for the start of his blackguard training. Unlike the other classes, blackguards did not have an official apprentice status. Blackguards engaged in a lot of illegal activity, but they would not have any protection of the law until they were commissioned. A blackguard trainer would disavow any aspirant who was caught stealing or spying, and the flogging or other penalty would be the aspirant’s to bear. And apprehension meant that the aspirant’s training that officially didn’t exist would be officially ended.

  Angus led Nerdraaage through Hammersmith proper. “There aren’t a lot of dwarf blackguards,” said Angus. “It’s considered somewhat unseemly. Most dwarves have the opinion that sneaking around and poisoning people is better left to the humans. Have you thought about the other Red School professions?”

  “Like what?”

  “You could be a warrior. Or a ranger. Both have proud dwarven histories.”

  “Well, we already have a warrior in our group. And as for a ranger, well, the she-elf plans to be a druid, so we don’t need another naturalist.”

  “Yes, your friends,” sighed Angus. “A motley group it is. How did you come to associate so closely with two humans and a, the other one.”

  “Well, we sort of came into this world together.”

  “But still, that was in the past. You’re among your people now. There are other young lads in Stonefist seeking adventure.” Angus continued in Dwarvish with another ancient saying, “There are no weak links in a dwarven chain.”

  “I couldn’t leave my friends.”

  “Loyalty is a master trait. But should your friends not share it, just remember your own kind will always have a place for you.”

  “I will,” said Nerdraaage. They exited the front gate. “Isn’t the trainer in town?”

  “Lad,” said Angus stopping for emphasis. “The blackguard trainer is a human.”

  Angus led Nerdraaage about a mile down the road and pointed off into the woods.

  “He’s supposed to be down that way in a wooden house,” said Angus. “I will let you find it on your own. Sometimes the battlepigs make it up into these woods. You have a weapon?” Nerdraaage displayed his daggers. “You have coin for lessons?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll see you later at the inn.” Angus turned back toward Hammersmith. Nerdraaage looked into the snowy, deep woods.

  “Is there a path to his place?” he yelled after Angus.

  “Not if he’s a good blackguard, there won’t be.”

  XXXIII

  Doppelganger introduced himself to the captain of the guard and offered his services in the defense of Hammersmith. This offer of service to ally towns was a necessary and documented part of his progression to the next level of training. It was also one of the ways that the per diem rank could earn some coin. The captain introduced himself as Donald of Clan Bluebeard. Doppelganger recognized Bluebeard as one of the royal clans—in fact, the royal clan of the present king of the dwarves.

  “You may call me Captain,” said Donald. “Do not concern yourself that I am the royal so and so.” Donald examined Doppelganger’s commission and added him to the rolls.

  The guards had forgiven Doppelganger’s excesses at the front gate when he first arrived. The dwarves admired other members of the Red School, especially big ones. They told him of the dwarven Red School tradition, second only in favor to the dwarves’ beloved Blue School. But the Red School had gained even more prestige since the subjugation of the Blue School during the Schism, which we will discuss in more detail later.

  The guards all wanted to duel the big human, but he could no longer sucker his opponents into monetary wagers. His reputation as a duelist had reached Hammersmith ahead of him.

  Donald took an immediate liking to Doppelganger, having spent many years in Vinland as a military attaché, where he developed an undwarven fondness for wine and humans, in that order. He was never considered kingly material, but his clan affiliation meant he could otherwise pick the assignments that pleased him. But during the Great War, when dwarven numbers were made a third and then a third again, most attaché positions became luxuries the dwarves could no longer afford, and Donald took the unglamorous role of Captain of the Guard at Hammersmith.

  Back at his cottage, Donald offered Doppelganger Aged Vinlandian and drank with him. He gave Doppelganger a belt with an oversized crest of Hammersmith as a buckle. It offered solid protection for his belly. But Doppelganger liked it mostly because he felt as though his appearance was taking on that of a seasoned fighter (even if he had not yet earned this trophy).

  XXXIV

  Dangalf and Ashlyn found a small and isolated magic library. The selection was modest even by the standards of the Great Library at Hempshire, but it had comfortable chairs and was well lit. Sunshine poured through stained-glass windows projecting the constellations of their new world onto the floor. Those blue dwarves would not shoddily build even a white library.

  They had the library all to themselves, and Dangalf began his rapid capture of the books, careful not to miss a page. There were no druid texts for Ashlyn to study, but she was fascinated to read about counterspells to druidic magic. She thought it would be helpful to know what sorcerers and witches could and could not do against what would be her own magic set. She enjoyed reading, but Dangalf pressed her to capture the books instead. He insisted the book would be there in its entirety in her virtual library when she learned to slumber, and now it was important to record as many books into her mind as possible as opposed to reading them for comprehension. But elf slumber differed from human slumber, and he had only limited success in teaching her his method. He told her how he had perfect recollection of his trip to the tar pits museum with its sights and sounds and smells, and she understood what he meant. But she countered that he was pure ectomorph and she was not. She could not hope to have the eidetic recall that he had, and he finally gave up his argument when it looked like she was getting angry.

  XXXV

  After an hour of wandering hopelessly in the woods, and worrying about battlepigs, Nerdraaage decided it would be best to see if he could find his way back to the road. Only after giving up did he find a structure that he must have passed a dozen times, camouflaged by color, trees, and an unwillingness to be seen that was downright inexplicable for a house. He made his way to the front door. He knocked several times without response, so he began to knock louder and call out, “Hello” repeatedly. The door finally opened, and when no one appeared, he walked in still knocking and crying, “Hello!”

  A ghostly voice that alternately came from behind him, from another room, and whispering into his left ear said, “You stomp around these grounds like an elephant. I’ve been smelling your pipe since you first came into my woods.”

  “I haven’t smoked all day,” said Nerdraaage.

  “You carry a pipe, and that is what I smell! And now that you have entered my home, I can smell your sweat, your breath; I can smell your arse!”

  “Is there anyone else I can talk to? Someone who trains blackguards?”

  The ghostly laughter sounded from several points around Nerdraaage, and he spun in a circle trying to face it.

  “Blackguards are quick and precise and smart. Few dwarves possess all these traits. You have none! Do not come back!” And an unappeared hand spun Nerdraaage around and an unappeared foot pushed him out the door.

  XXXVI

  Nerdraaage and Angus were drinking in the inn when Dangalf and Ashlyn entered. Taking note of the earliness of the hour, Dangalf gently asked, “How’d training go?”

  “Terrible. He said he wouldn’t train me.”

  His friends were dismayed. This certainly wasn’t a game dynamic, a trainer refusing to train. What would this mean for the fut
ure of the Keepers? “Why not?” asked Dangalf.

  “He said dwarves don’t make good blackguards.”

  “Human bastard,” said Angus. “No offense intended.”

  “None taken,” said Ashlyn.

  “But they have some great dwarven trainers here. I could be a warrior…”

  “What would Doppelganger say to that?” said Dangalf.

  “Or a ranger…”

  “No,” said Ashlyn.

  “You being a blackguard,” said Dangalf. “I mean, that just makes the group complete. Without any redundancy.”

  Angus said in Old Dwarvish, “There is no weak link in a dwarven chain.” Even though they didn’t understand Old Dwarvish, Dangalf and Ashlyn suspected that Angus was undermining the Keepers.

  Doppelganger and Donald entered the inn and made their way toward the others. Donald was intercepted at another table, but Doppelganger joined his friends. “I see you’re making mighty friends, human,” said Angus. “You see the captain of the guard there?” asked Angus of the others. “Royalty he is. Donald of Clan Bluebeard.”

  “But his beard is black!” said Nerdraaage, and Angus nearly fell off his chair. The others had never seen Angus so spooked, even when he was first released from the cocoon of spider silk. He pulled Nerdraaage close to him.

  “Never tell a Bluebeard his beard is black!” Angus whispered urgently. “We don’t have a warg in that fight.”

  They all nodded understanding. It was a mistake any of them could have made because in the game where they got their knowledge of this world, Clan Bluebeard dwarves all had bright blue beards.

  XXXVII

  And when the first five dwarven clans agreed to form a society and put an end to war between dwarves, it first became imperative for each of the clans to take a name, which was not before needed. (They had only names for the others, their rival clans—pejoratives, really—prior to this agreement.) The obvious choice for most was to be named after their beard color, and Clans Brownbeard, Redbeard, and Yellowbeard were easily decided. But two clans were black of beard and insisted that they alone should be Clan Blackbeard for having the blackest beards. Such was the controversy that one of the two black-haired clans met at midnight fully armed and prepared to murder the other clan, this being the ancient times after all, to claim the title of Clan Blackbeard. And that clan was lead by Bran, the greatest of all dwarves, who gives name to their home and highest peak and is also their first king. And just outside the enemy’s camp, one of Bran’s brothers whispered to him, “To think those other dwarves would lay claim to having the blackest beards of all. Why your beard is so black that here in the moonlight it looks blue!” And then Bran’s clan snuck into their enemies’ camp, each taking position over an adult male dwarf and raised their weapons to strike when Bran announced, “Ye are all caught unawares in very undwarven repose! And ye should all be hacked and pummeled to death should it have been of our choosing! Know this then, that your petty lives and flimsy beards have been spared by the mercy of Clan Bluebeard!” And as terrible a story as this might appear to sapiens of a modern disposition, it is celebrated by all dwarves as the greatest-ever act of dwarven compromise.