Chapter 6

Ilyshn’ish glanced back at the Adventurers one last time before the dragonflight crested over the mountain ridge. The pleasant summer storm had worked its way past the area, leaving her to mull over various worries in the relative calm. She hoped that she wouldn’t get in trouble for what they just did. Her mother insisted that their instructions to help people along the Dwarven highway applied to everything, and so they had ended up interfering with the Adventurer Guild expedition.

The last time she had done so, Lord Mare came to speak to her about it upon her return to the city. He hadn’t seemed angry when he addressed her ‘participation’, but he did tell her that it wasn’t something that was supposed to happen. The Adventurers were to have as authentic an experience as possible, and she had essentially robbed them of that experience. Caught between the wishes of Lord Mare and the instructions of Lady Shalltear, Ilyshn’ish could only hope that she would be excused for her actions.

Things had a way of going awry whenever her life appeared to be stabilizing, and she agonized over what sorts of horrible punishments might be in store for her. Maybe new restrictions would be piled upon her, or they would take away her new mountain and stick her back in a broom closet. She continued to fret as they made their way over the peaks, then an unsettling sight below drew her away from trying to imagine anything else.

In the vast icefield that filled the high mountain valleys of the central Azerlisia Mountains, a great gathering of Frost Giants darkened the pristine landscape. From the camps stretching out over the ice below one of their massive citadels, she estimated that anywhere between four to six hundred had come together.

“What’s going on down there?” Ilyshn’ish asked, “Their sacred events aren’t anywhere near this large.”

“They’ve been collecting for a few weeks now,” Kilistran said. “Starting around the time our work with the Dwarven migration started slowing down. All of the activity in the Dwarf Kingdom might have stirred them up.”

“They must realize that things aren’t the same as before,” Ilyshn’ish said. “The Sorcerous Kingdom had Death Knights posted in plain view all along the highway for weeks. They may be preparing for war.”

“Perhaps,” her mother replied noncommittally. “If that happens, I suppose it means more Nuks for us.”

Kilistran’s thoughts probably matched those of the entire enclave, Ilyshn’ish’s own included. Their one-time rivals amounted to little more than pests to the Sorcerous Kingdom. If war was their intent, the Frost Giant tribes of the Azerlisia Mountains were not long for the world.

The reason why Ilyshn’ish was flying to Feoh Berkana was not as part of a delivery flight, but as an ‘attaché’ dispatched by Lady Shalltear. She was to aid a certain Lord Cocytus, who was directing the Sorcerous Kingdom’s army from the capital of the Dwarf Kingdom. The Frost Giants had been deemed an unacceptable risk to the new trade route being established directly between Feoh Raizo and E-Rantel, so it was decided that they were to be pacified by the army of the Sorcerous Kingdom.

Whether this ‘pacification’ was to result in subjugation or extermination was unknown, but, given her knowledge of the Frost Giants and their belligerent ways, it would probably end up being the latter.

The flight of Dragons initiated their descent after entering over the divide that split the middle of the Azerlisia Mountains along a meandering route that went from east to west. It was here that the Dwarf Kingdom was situated. Its main cities straddled the old trade artery that linked the lands to either side of the mountains. Stretching southwest from Feoh Berkana, the road to Feoh Teiwaz lay unused, though the road itself remained intact and in good condition despite two centuries of neglect. Such was the quality of Dwarven construction.

On their final approach to the Dwarf capital, that construction could be seen underway. The ancient fortress that had collapsed and fallen into the valley deep below was being replaced by a new one. The colossal stone buttresses that served to support the entire structure were nearly completed, but Ilyshn’ish didn’t see any place for them to land.

“Are we still entering the city through that ventilation shaft, mother?”

“Yes, dear,” Kilistran replied. “They’ve moved us to a new place in the city, however.”

The dragonflight settled on the sheer mountain face around the opening of the ventilation shaft and, one by one, they slipped inside. Ilyshn’ish took one last look at her surroundings. Though the weather was still calm after the recent storm, another could be seen rolling in from the seas to the north.

She followed after the other Dragons, making her way through the makeshift entrance and resuming her flight on the other side. Gazing down upon the city below, she saw that Feoh Berkana had greatly changed since the last time she made a delivery to the city.

The ruined and eaten-away buildings of the common quarters had been cleared away, and a colossal pile of rubble now lay in the industrial quarter. There, the Dwarves looked to be working to salvage construction materials. A single foundry had been raised, with a second well on its way. The Merchant’s Quarter – or the Foreign Quarter, as the Dwarves commonly called it – was still mostly flattened. Near the entry ramp to the city, several new buildings that had the look of merchant inns and various services for visitors had been raised. In addition, an old market plaza was refurbished to provide a place of trade for the slowly-growing trickle of merchants from beyond.

Most of the Dwarf Nation’s efforts appeared to have gone towards restoring the Residential Quarter, which looked about half-rebuilt. The new homes, while certainly a far cry better than the holed ruins that the Quagoa left behind, fell short of their predecessors, whose appearance and design was firmly lodged into Ilyshn’ish’s memory. She supposed that it was simply one of the many unreliable things about mortals: it took them many generations to build up their civilizations and, with the passing of generations, they could similarly decline.

The Dragons’ flight path led them in several descending circuits around the city until they closed on the central supporting pillar of the cavern. Along one side of the massive stone column, which was over three hundred metres in diameter, a set of temporary-looking hoardings had been constructed. It was there that they landed: above a simple, but large building raised in the Merchant’s Quarter with the sign of the postal service over its entrance.

A pair of Vampire Brides appeared to retrieve the newly arrived cargo. Ilyshn’ish, not having any cargo to speak of, entered an empty pen to assume her Snow Elf appearance in private.

“That’s a new one,” Kilistran said as Ilyshn’ish stepped back out into the open.

“A different ‘image’ for each function,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “At least I think that’s the idea. I’ll admit that it does have its merits.”

“Is that so? Then what is this one for?”

“Official duties,” Ilyshn’ish said. “Apparently this appearance looks more…official? That’s what they say, anyway.”

Her mother’s head went from one side of Ilyshn’ish to another, scrutinizing her appearance.

“I don’t really get it,” she said. “A new acquaintance of mine has been training for official duties as well, and he came in one day to show me his uniform. Human sensibilities are unfathomable – what’s wrong with just going around in what you have? Wearing all of those extra things is unnatural.”

Ilyshn’ish thought to point out that they had been provided with several accessories to wear as well, but decided to leave things as they were. Her mother’s attitude reflected that of the majority of the enclave. It was probably the reason why they never deigned to wear any equipment at all before it was forced upon them.

With little more to say, Ilyshn’ish went on her way. She could have taken a shortcut to the Palace Quarter by making her way around the central column and over the walls, but she was uncertain how watchful the city’s security was or what they would do if they caught her doing so. Instead, she made her way through the Merchant Quarter, observing the changes from street level.

Once in a while, a Dwarf would glance briefly in her direction, but the vast majority were too focused on their tasks to pay any attention to a strange Elf wandering through the streets. There was a strange energy to the entire place – a feeling that she could nearly pluck out of the air. The atmosphere was so tangible that her inner muse urged her to compose something in commemoration.

Creating a true spellsong took time, however, so it would have to wait until she was free to do so. It was something a mortal Bard would never be able to accomplish: they could only chase the fragments of their memories as they struggled to put their inspirations to song. Ilyshn’ish, on the other hand, could relive her experiences with perfect fidelity and pull the very soul of the past into the present through her art.

Ilyshn’ish wove her way through the Industrial Quarter, taking in the bustling surroundings as she went. When she reached the gate to the Palace Quarter, the soldiers stationed there moved to bar the way as she approached.

“State your business,” the officer manning the gatehouse called out in a clear, albeit dwarfishly gruff, voice.

It wasn’t the same group she had encountered before. Their armour was identical, but the air about them was more relaxed. Ilyshn’ish reached into her bag, withdrawing a clean white envelope. The officer’s eyes widened slightly upon receiving her documents, probably because it carried the stamp of the Sorcerous Kingdom. Ilyshn’ish wasn’t sure if he should be surprised or not – did the Dwarves have diplomatic relations with anyone else?

“You’re free to enter,” he said after scanning the parchments contained within. “Do you require an escort to the Royal Palace, Dame Verilyn?”

The shift in the officer’s tone was rather pleasing. Instead of openly enjoying the change in her treatment, however, she maintained a solemn air.

“Thank you for your kind offer,” she said as she returned the envelope to her bag, “but the way is familiar to me. You may carry on with your duties.”

The officer straightened and stood aside. The entire gate detail saluted sharply as she passed, and they stayed that way until she went out of their sight. It was as if their conduct was being held up by invisible threads issued through the presence that she radiated. Was that ‘official’ enough?

Lady Zahradnik always kept going on about how officials of the Sorcerous Kingdom represented the Sorcerer King in their own capacity. As such, they should reflect the dignity of the sovereign as they went about their duties. Ilyshn’ish’s observations of the people in E-Rantel however, demonstrated clear differences in how various officials behaved in different situations.

The city’s Human militia, who performed the vast majority of the interactions with the populace, carried a far more casual attitude most of the time. The nobles of the city tended to travel beyond the central district in their carriages, so it was easy to see how the behaviour of the militia shifted – much like how these Dwarf soldiers had just shifted their attitudes towards her – to the passage of a noble. As soon as they felt it safe enough, they would return to the more relaxed state that the common folk saw.

Even amongst the nobility, attitudes differed greatly. While Lady Zahradnik ranged between strict and formal in public to a degree or two more casual in private, Lady Wagner was even more relaxed in public than Lady Zahradnik was in private. Ilyshn’ish couldn’t imagine what Lady Wagner would be like in private.

This wide range of behaviours was displayed amongst who people saw as the direct servants of the Sorcerer King, too. One could be as rigid and upright as Master Tian or the various maids as they carried out their duties, or be as casual as Lady Aura. Lady Shalltear altered her behaviour as well, depending on who she was with.

It all made Ilyshn’ish’s attempts to understand what was demanded of her increasingly difficult. For the time being, she simply imitated various behaviours to see what would yield the best results. As long as nothing changed, she would eventually have the right answer for every scenario.

Upon reaching the palace gate, another set of soldiers stopped her. Ilyshn’ish went through the same process as before. This time, she was assigned an escort to lead her to the ‘war room’ instead of being allowed to roam around on her own. She silently mused over which room this ‘war room’ might be as she followed the soldier through the quiet stone halls. It was not an official name for any of the palace chambers, and she knew the place better than any of the recently returned Dwarves.

They eventually came to one of the palace’s banquet halls, and her escort stopped just outside the entrance. The interior of the room had been cleared away of all its old furnishings. In their place was a large square table carved out of granite and polished to a reflective sheen. Three Dwarves seated at the table looked up at her entrance, as did several powerful insectoid beings that were probably from the Sorcerous Kingdom. At the head of the table stood another insectoid being that towered over the rest.

In size and stature, it was comparable to an Ogre, but it radiated a sense of strength that she had only ever felt from the Sorcerer King’s most powerful servants. As she made her way in to stand before the assembly, she ran her gaze over its imposing form and thought to herself that it may have been the only time that she, a Frost Dragon, had ever felt cold.

Ilyshn’ish reviewed the carefully rehearsed greeting that Lady Zahradnik had drilled into her a day before.

“Lord Cocytus; honoured members of the council. At the behest of Lady Shalltear and by your most gracious invitation, I have arrived to lend my assistance in what small capacity that I can.”

She lowered her head as she swept out her skirts into an elegant curtsey.

“Dame Ilyshn’ish=Verilyn, at your service.”