Chapter 25: Morrock, Kingdom of Dwarves

Fate, destiny, a pre-ordained life upon the path of which you walk, unable to stop. Some people believe that what will be, will be, regardless of the choices you make or the paths you take. Others believe that only the past is fixed, and the future can be changed based on actions made in the present.

All I can say, is this: Whether or not you are right or wrong, the world will not change because of your beliefs. The world cares little for us, and in the end our lifetimes are but a single blink in the endless cycle.

…What do I believe? Both, obviously.

-An unknown scholar

Another city, another step closer to the dwarven kingdom. The same forest spreads in an unbroken line to the south. How large is that forest? Although, I must say that it would be hilarious if it was that long but pencil thin.

Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody go into that forest, or anyone come out, which is strange. You’d think with all these beastmen around that there’d be adventurers venturing in daily, but there’s not one.

…Scratch that, someone’s coming out now.

Oddly enough, it’s a human. Dressed in animal furs and sporting rippling muscles wherever they don’t cover, he looks almost exactly like you would imagine a caveman – minus the grunting and head scratching.

And he’s walking towards where I am, out in the open some way from the city.

As he gets closer, I can make out a few more details. He has some sort of weapon, probably a sword, tied to his waist, and what looks like a shield is slung over his shoulder. One his face is an unevenly cut beard, and – wait, isn’t that Boris? He looks like Boris. Why is Boris here, and dressed like a caveman?

Stopping a few meters away from me, he looks at the city in confusion. “Where am I?” He asks, seemingly directing the question at the air in front of him.

I raise an eyebrow. “Hammerquake city.”

Startled, Boris quickly turns to face me. After a second, he relaxes again. “Sorry. I was in there for a while,” he gestures towards the forest behind him with a thumb, “and there’s not much in the way of intelligent conversation. Hammerquake city, you said? Where is that?”

“In the south-western region of the Kingdom of Binod.” I say casually, stretching. Doesn’t look as if I’ll be getting any more exercise done today.

“Damn! And here I thought I was going south-east this whole time!” He looks back towards the forest for a moment, but he flinches away from it instantly. “I suppose I’ll have to take a detour east, through Xin. Thanks for the help.” He starts to trek eastward.

“Wait a moment!” I call out. “Don’t you know about the war?”

Boris turns back towards me. “War?” He breathes, eyes wide.

Nodding, I say, “Yes, war between Stalia and Xin. It’s hard for humans to travel through demon territory right now, so you’d be better off heading further west and looping around that way. Longer trip, but much safer, since you’ll avoid all the battlefields.”

Boris hesitates for just a second, then turns around and starts running.

East.

Sighing, I grasp my mace and ready myself for combat for the umpteenth time this week.

The bandits in Binod seem to be some sort of unique variation of the norm. In comparison to the ones you find in the other kingdoms, the ones here are much stronger and more skilled, more common… and at the same time, a group of six bandits would be classified as a large bandit group.

Probably because of some stubborn pride in their own strength, most of them seem to prefer working alone, or perhaps with a couple of buddies. In some ways, they are easier to deal with than the bandits elsewhere: you don’t have to worry so much about getting surrounded, for example.

At the same time, each one is much more difficult to defeat, with most of them being able to simply shrug off weak magic and swing around a broadsword with deceptive lightness.

This particular group has four people, conveniently the same number as us. We spread out, and our opponents do the same, effectively creating four individual battles with a bit of space between them.

I square up against a rabbit beastwoman. Another thing worth mentioning about Binod is that it has a much more even man-woman ratio in combat professions than other kingdoms, who will often have very few.

Were she to walk along any street back on Terra, she would surely attract plenty of woman and men fawning over her adorably fuzzy form. Of course, I know better than to underestimate her because of that tiny characteristic twitch of her nose that would make any girl squeal, ‘Cute!’

Indeed, I am the very model of seriousness… Especially because she’s wielding a large, two-handed warhammer. I can’t help but mentally compare our sizes…

Mine somehow feels woefully inadequate.

Stepping forward, she plants her foot heavily and pivots, swinging her hammer in a mighty horizontal swing. Even with my eyes closed, I would be able to notice it’s approach merely by the sound of the wind it’s producing.

Broken bones would be the least of my worries if I was hit by a strike of this magnitude, even through the protection of my armour. That is what hammers and similar blunt-force weapons specialise in, after all.

Nevertheless, even a planet-crushing blow is meaningless if it does not hit its target. I take a measured step back and am immediately rewarded with a refreshing breeze as the heavy weapon passes mere centimetres by me.

I’m about to take advantage of the gap that will inevitably be created while she attempts to reverse the direction of her hammer when I notice that she doesn’t seem to be doing that at all. I take a few more steps back and watch with wide eyes as the hammer passes by me again, even closer than the last time.

With a twist of her hips and a few momentous steps, the hammer makes a complete revolution around her body and again comes speeding towards me.

I’m forced into a constant retreat as she whips her warhammer around again and again, drawing ever closer to me in an assault highly reminiscent of the ‘whirlwind’ attack in gaming.

Of course, this being real life, the attack has weaknesses – rather large ones, in fact. One could simply duck under the swing, for example, and initiate a crushing counter-attack. But with my armour?

Not likely.

How about jumping over the swing, then? Perhaps not a realistic option back on Terra, but here in a world with mana reinforcement it won’t be too much of a problem. However… Jumping? Against a rabbit? That would be asking for trouble.

Utilise speed to strike her in the gap presented by the hammer spinning around her body? Perhaps I could get in and make a strike, but I don’t think I’d be able to get out in time – and even if I were able to land a disabling blow, the momentum would still result in it hitting me.

No, instead I will exploit the single greatest weakness of that technique. And so I play the waiting game, continuing to retreat.

…She doesn’t seem to be getting dizzy.

Alrighty then, plan B. What was plan B again? Well, it doesn’t exist yet, but it’ll be a whopper, I’m sure.

As I continue to retreat, I observe the rabbit beastwoman. The movement of her arms, the twisting of her muscles as she spins, the shuffling dancing of her… feet. Indeed, it is the feet that are the greatest vulnerability of this technique. A single misplaced step, or even having the feet placed at the wrong angle could cause the user to collapse under their own momentum.

Disturbing another’s footsteps is easier said than done, especially when they are experienced in keeping them steady.

I try going left, then quickly darting right as soon as she changes direction – no dice. She only wobbles slightly as she makes the change in direction.

Right now, most other people would be in a pickle. Unfortunately for her, I can use magic.

A stream of earth surreptitiously crawls its way down my body to the ground, where it spreads out, looking like any other innocuous patch of dirt. As soon as she steps on it, I will it to curl around her shoe and drag her down.

It isn’t much mana, so the pull isn’t much either – but as I said, in a situation like this, even a little is a lot. She tumbles to the ground, her warhammer tearing itself out of her grip and skidding a few meters away. Groaning, she tries to get up, but I put my mace to her neck.

“I’ve bested you.” I say plainly, but she’s having none of it.

Pushing my mace away using her arm guard, she dashes to pick up her hammer again. “Like hell you have!” She shouts, again rushing me. I shrug.

This time she doesn’t attempt to execute the whirlwind attack, and instead comes at me with straight swings. I dodge one, and then another of her heavy swings.

Lifting my foot, I kick her with my iron boots, sending her stumbling backwards. After that, I quickly subdue her. In the same tone as before I say, “I’ve bested you.”

She nods sadly, and I walk over to watch the others. Xiltroth has already defeated his opponent, Jakin looks to be just finishing up, and Boaz seems to be engaging in a fairly even back-and-forth combat. But he doesn’t seem to be in any danger, so I don’t think I’ll have to interfere there either.

In no time at all we are on the road again. Perhaps the best thing about beastmen bandits is that after you defeat them, they’ll pretty much listen to whatever you say. Of course, we’ve never tried asking them anything excessive, but usually they’re fine with handing over some of their cash, weapons or armour, etc.

As well as that, I hear that if you pass through the same area again later, they usually won’t attack you a second time.

One might argue that there’s an issue of morality in letting bandits roam free, but they’re practically part of the culture here. ‘If you can’t defeat them or can’t afford to hire people to defeat them for you, you shouldn’t be travelling in the first place’, or something.

And… I’d rather not kill people, as a general rule. If they’re trying to kill me or people around me, I can’t exactly excuse that, but they don’t pose much of a threat to us at this level. We usually just take their weapons – much harder for them to hurt other people then. Besides, if they kill people around here, I’m sure the city guards or whatnot would be clearing them out.

-But in the end, it’s mostly because we’d rather not kill people.

“So, where are we now?”

Boaz glances up from the map. “Wait just a moment, will yeh?” he looks back down. “We be about… here. Unoccupied lands, if this map is recent.”

I look around. Apart from the road looking a bit less maintained, this stretch of road looks just like any other. I point somewhere roughly north-west. “What’s up that way?” I ask.

Boaz looks up from the map. “I don’t know. Most of this area be blank.” He says simply.

I pause. “Want to explore that, someday?”

Boaz shrugs noncommittally, Jakin looks pensive and Xiltroth is nodding eagerly. “Yes!” He shouts eagerly. “We are supposed to be adventurers, but we’ve never done any real adventuring!”

Jakin nods thoughtfully at that. “Maybe. But I fer one would prefer to be a bit stronger before we brave the unknown like that.”

“I agree with my brother. Who knows what dangerous monsters be lurking in the wilderness?” says Boaz.

Nodding in agreement, I say, “Of course, we’d need to be much stronger than we are now. But you have to admit, it would be exciting to see what’s out there.”

Jakin grunts in agreement.

Travelling through uncharted territory turns out to be sort of relaxing. You rarely meet any other people and bandits are almost non-existent, so all you have to worry about is the monsters.

Still, you are also removed from any of the many comforts of civilisation – well-cooked food, music, beds and toilets, just to name a few.

While it’s not hard to find a bush or something to do your thing, I can’t help but look suspiciously at the leaves… what if they have an effect similar to that of poison ivy? Ugh.

I must admit, I know little about the plant life of this world.

Putting aside that grim thought, we have seen quite the variety of wildlife while travelling, as well as quite a few strange monsters – large, flightless bats that hopped strangely along the ground; goblins with tough grey skin… even a flying boar.

I can’t help but wonder why the road is so empty, even though it should be the main road between the dwarven and beastmen kingdoms, so I ask Boaz. According to him, trade in the past had been marred by constant attacks on the trade caravans.

Since it happened almost every single time, and the dwarves had incurred significant financial losses, there has never been any trade between the two kingdoms since.

The days wear on, and finally a dwarven city lies before our eyes.

Walls tower overhead, their height such that I can scarcely make out the figurers of dwarven soldiers atop them. Made of some light grey stone, it is smooth its entire width and height, as if hewn directly from some gargantuan formation of rock.

The city itself is not visible behind these walls, but I can see that the city merges into the mountain, rendering it completely unassailable from the rear. So treacherous are the cliffs of this mountain that I would doubt that its crest had ever been set foot upon – had it not been for the colossal statue set into its face, looming over the city.

Massive although it is, the proportions make it clear that the model of this monstrously large construction was a dwarf, and his stern eyes watch unblinkingly over the city.

“Tonvar Ironblood, thirteenth king of Morrock.” Supplies Boaz, a rare hint of solemn gravity in his voice as he beholds the statue. “They say seven craftsmen died carving him from the mountainside, and dozens more were left crippled.”

“It’s… Impressive doesn’t seem quite adequate to describe this.” I say dully. “This must have taken years!”

“Eight months, sixteen days.” Boaz grins smugly.

“But- what? How? Huh?” I stutter. My brain can’t connect the enormity of this statue with the time-frame he just stated. Even the pyramids took over a decade to build, and this is MUCH taller, and much more detailed to boot.

Shaking my head, I just give up trying to understand it. The answer was probably magic, anyway. It’s always magic.

While we are chatting away, the already miniscule line to enter the city shortens to non-existence in front of us. The guards look us over, their expressions hardening as they notice Xiltroth.

“You three may pass, but we will have to take you in for questioning.” Says a guard, motioning to his compatriot, who moves to grab Xiltroth.

Xiltroth looks like he’s getting ready to fight them off, so I tap him on the shoulder. “Calm down. You’ll only make things worse if you fight them.”

The guard eyes me warily as he grabs Xiltroth and pushes him into the guardhouse.

“Why?” Jakin asks, stone-faced.

“Because we have joined the war against the demons.” Says the guard expressionlessly. “Every demon is a potential spy. Now, get in the city or leave.”

Unable to do anything else, we enter the city. Well-constructed, grandiose buildings line the streets, but right now my eyes can’t help but gloss over them. “What can we do?” I ask.

Jakin and Boaz look at each other. “I don’t know if there’s anything we can do but hope that the people interrogating him aren’t crazy.” Jakin scratches his head helplessly. “We haven’t been to this city before, and we haven’t even been in Morrock for over two years. Maybe if we ask around, we can find something useful.” Boaz supplies, semi-hopeful.

“And what should I do?” I’ve never been to Morrock before, after all. I don’t know a thing about the place, apart from the fact that it’s inhabited mainly by dwarves.

Jakin shrugs. “Get your weapon and armour repaired, find an inn.”

Okay. “Meet back here in a few hours, then?”

They nod, and we go our separate ways. Contrary to my expectations, finding a blacksmith doesn’t take me long at all. After I take off my clunky armour and pay the soot-faced dwarf at the forge a handful of coppers, he quickly repairs it, even buffing it until the metal shines.

“Anything else?” He asks gruffly as I refit the armour.

I slip on my gauntlet, stretching my fingers to test the movement of the joints. Had he oiled it without me noticing? “I don’t suppose you have warhammers? Ones meant for two-handed use?”

He grins, tweaking his nose with a greasy thumb. “I may have a few in storage. Too heavy for normal people, see, so I don’t get many orders for them. What metal you want? Iron, steel… mithril?” His eyes gleam slightly as he mentions the last.

“How much for the mithril?” I ask, locking eyes with him.

“60 Gold.” He states.

I may have some savings from adventuring, but not that much. “I don’t suppose you can sell it for-”

“60. Gold.” He says again, eyes narrowing.

“Can I look at your steel warhammers?” I ask, giving up.

“Certainly.” He says with a tinge of disappointment, vanishing through a doorway.

Returning half a minute later with a few massive hammers held in his arms in a frightening display of strength, he places them gently on the counter. Each of the three have slightly different designs – handle length, width of the head, whether it has a spike on one side of the head or is a double-sided hammer, etc.

I inspect them carefully, hefting each and testing their balance before making my pick. It looks to be just short of a meter long, with a thick wooden handle and both a flat hammer head and a sharp spike head. I pay him the one gold and sixty-three silvers he asks for it, and then I try and figure out how the heck I’ll secure this on my body.

Eventually I figure something out, but before I leave a thought strikes me and I again turn to the dwarven smith. “Can I buy a couple of mithril daggers?”

He raises an eyebrow. “If yeh got the gold. Yeh lookin’ fer a pair of daggers, or…?”

“No, just two daggers. A long one and one of normal length, if possible.”

He moves back into the storeroom, then returns in a jiffy, placing two daggers and their sheathes on the counter. “Six gold, six gold eighty silver.” He states, jabbing a thick forefinger at each dagger as he states their prices.

I sigh as I hand him most of my earnings so far. Buckling the long one onto my belt, I put the other into my pack. My old knife, I sell to him for half a dozen silver. This’ll leave me down on cash, but it’s not like I’ll use it on anything else, anyway.

Having done that, I head out of the smoke-scented shop and roam the city, looking for an inn. By the time I find an appropriate inn that has rooms open, I figure it’s time to head back.

…Watches sure were convenient. Give it a year or two, though, and I’m sure the demons will invent them… Although their research is probably focused in another direction right now.

Glancing at the slowly sinking sun, I head back to the gate. Hopefully the twins have found some useful information.

When I find them, both are wearing grim expressions. “It isn’t looking good.” Jakin looks considerably worried. After all, us four have been fighting alongside each other for more than a year now, it’s only natural that we have all developed deep bonds of trust and friendship. “The captain of the guard be raised to his position recently, and to top it all off, he’s younger than us.” He says, gesturing to himself and Boaz.

“Which means… what?” I frown.

Jakin rubs his forehead, grimacing. “Which means that he’ll be wanting to prove to his superiors that he’s fit for the role. People already know about what happened at the gate and… well, one tavern has a betting pool on when, the execution will be… tomorrow has the most money on it.”