Above the windswept hills of the Ashvale, a billowy black cloud crept along—pressing its sinewy form against the tops of the sugar pines and tanoaks before drifting over the nearby peaks and out-of-view.

Deep below, in his underground homestead, Cassius Redrock counted a stack of gold coins for the fourth time that night. A mild wet-season had left him hard pressed to find buyers for his lightning rods and everybody who could afford one of his ornate cuckoo clocks already owned two. If not for an order of coach hardware (courtesy of the Rattlers Guild) his humble forge would be all but bankrupt.

His weary gaze moved across the small stack of coinage. He wrestled with a realization: the day had come to find a buyer for his newest invention. He reached for the paging stone at the far end of his work table. With a monosyllabic incantation he called his daughter down from the quaint storefront and showroom that existed on the surface. After sensing that Kate had gathered his call, he turned back to the coins and began counting the meager stack for the fifth time that night.

A loud whoosh came from the Crafter-Gnome entry portal—a glowing rift in time-and-space which separated the Redrock’s subterranean homestead from the village above. Into the warm light of their foyer entered Kate and her perennial friend-in-arms, Toby Wilton Fairchild. The pair of Crafter-Gnome twenty-somethings spent their days watching over the showroom side of the business—carefree, enough to develop a penchant for inside jokes and relentless laughter but still responsible in the duty entrusted to them by Cassius.

“Go home, Toby,” barked Cassius. “Kate and I have to discuss something very important, and I can’t have her distracted right now.”

“Sorry, sir,” said Toby.

But as the gnome youth turned to the entry portal something occurred to Cassius that caused a change in his tone.

“No,” Cassius sighed, “It’s all right. Actually, perhaps this involves you as well. Sit down and listen carefully to what I’m about to tell you.

“I’ve seen omens in the rock. Ill-omens. The granite speaks to me. ‘Beware,’ it whispers, ‘the time has come…behold a war of gnomes.’ I do not question the stone and, so, gods be damned for the part which we must play in the woeful cycle.”

Kate and Toby became deadly still, listening with a concentrated intent. Cassius was not one to wax poetic nor was he known to beget any manner of fanciful tirade. He was as earnest and composed as any Crafter-Gnome, who unlike their cousins—the Digger-Gnomes of Wildnook—were known for their pragmatic world-view. If he was troubled by something communicated to him through the stone, then there were doubtlessly dark days to come.

From under a worktable Cassius produced a largish chest and began making his way out of the workshop, towards the perimeter of their homestead, and onward into the mile-long cavern adjacent to their modest dwelling.

“Come. Follow along,” said Cassius. “And grab the powder horn.”

An ethereal glow of yellowy mushrooms illuminated the subterranean passage. It was a faint light that Crafters were accustomed to using as their sole source of illumination in such places. Stopping by a small underground stream, Cassius gingerly set the chest down.

“If business at the forge doesn’t pick up, we’ll run out of money for food and supplies by the end of the year,” Cassius took a moment to carefully consider his next words. “We need to change course if we’re going to survive out here. Kate, know that I love you—and your mother—very much.”

While the other two were still somewhat shook from Cassius outburst in the workshop, they were entirely aware of the dire financial situation of the Redrock business.

Even in the “boom” times there was only so much demand for lightning rods and cuckoo clocks in the Ashvale. If Cassius was lucky he might get the odd job for shipment to Wildnook.

The order for coach hardware came as a stroke of luck as the Rattler’s had had a full-time smithy for their rolling stock, but his untimely death left the guild with a dozen half-finished sleeper cars. Cassius caught wind of the predicament from a friend in town and was able to get a bid of samples out before any other blacksmiths had a chance to undercut him.

Cassius turned his attention to the young master Fairchild, nominally his apprentice, slightly awkward, but also a positively clever individual.

“Toby, you used to ride to Faria Junction with your mother to pick up ingredients for the bakery?” asked Cassius.

“That is indeed true. The Junction is the closest place to buy almond flour. We’d go there once a month. The orchards to grow the almonds only thrive in the warm dry climate southwest of Old Marianna, but did you know that in order to pollinate the groves, farmers will bring bees from all over…”

“All right, Toby. Thank you. Thank you. Didn’t ask for you life’s story,” Cassius had no problem interrupting his apprentice mid-sentence. “In all your time on the rails, did you ever witness a skirmish between the Rattler’s and the natives?”

Toby felt a pang come from a place deep behind his left breast. He looked Cassius straight in the eyes.

“On a single occasion, yes. A Centaur war party derailed the locomotive and in the ensuing firefight I saw many elves and gnomes die. By time the Centaurs scattered, we were left three days by-foot from home. On the second day a party of elven scouts found us and escorted us back to Ashvale. Why do you inquire after such terrible things?” asked Toby.

“Because, Toby, I know that you’ve seen such a battle and that changes what I’m about to show you both. Kate has never had the misfortune of seeing pistols in action, but you have. How long would you say it took those men to fire, reload, and fire again?” asked Cassius.

“Thirty seconds? Maybe longer.” said Toby.

Cassius opened the lid of the chest and pulled out a pistol of peculiar design.

It had all the aspects of an instrument born in the age of interchangeable parts—strong angular lines, an air of mechanization, entirely metal. One lever attached to the side of a cylindrical roll, while another lever was attached directly behind the cylinder.

“Kate, hand me the powder horn,” said Cassius. She handed him the heavy skin of black powder and from the trunk Cassius produced a special type of ramrod, pre-loaded with many bullets. “Toby, when I give you the signal, I want you to start counting aloud and don’t stop until I give you the signal again.”

With a short nod he had made his signal to Toby.

“One… Two… Three..”

In quick, efficient twitches of the forward lever Cassius Redrock filled each of the pistol’s eight chambers with black powder, then going over the same chambers again with the ramrod he inserted the semi-round bullets.

“Sixteen… Seventeen… Eighteen… Nineteen…”

He came to his feet, faced down cavern, and took aim at a row of the glowing mushrooms. He pulled the rear lever and a trigger popped into place. Cassius alternated between pulling the trigger and the hammer of the revolver—each blast seemingly louder than the last. The mushrooms burst, splattering their glow on the walls of the cavern, oozing its way into the tiny stream. After firing all eight shots Cassius once again made his signal to Toby.

“Twenty-six seconds,” said Toby. “Incredible.”

Kate Redrock stood there shaking. In silence a thin line of tears began to roll down her cheeks. How had her father, who refused to shoo the varmin which terrorized their vegetable garden, given himself to such violent pursuits? Where and when did he even begin to gain such imagination?

Cassius ignored Kate’s disheartened reaction for a second and addressed Toby directly. “That’s eight shots where once there was one. Arm a soldier with two of these and that’s sixteen shots before the need to reload. Imagine it. Settlers wouldn’t have to cower on rail cars to get across Valenaria. It would fundamentally change the composition of the landscape. This could be the thing that wins us the frontier, and Redrock is going to be the name on every unit.”

“More like Deadrock,” interjected Kate.

“Heh, it’s not exactly the way of the Crafters, is it Kate?” asked Cassius.

“You must admit that small arms are a far cry from cuckoo clocks!”

Cassius sighed.

“Your mother’s condition is getting worse,” said Cassius. “This isn’t really about the business. Never for money, right? Well if we’re in it for love, there’s only one way to save your mother. We need to reach the mighty fountain.”

“You think we can save Mom by dosing her with some rich man’s elixir? Haven’t people died from that… stuff?” Kate implored.

“The last person to die was the human, Spenser Bek. It was wickedness and hate that killed him. The fountain offers men only that which already exists in their hearts.” said Cassius, “Besides, Bek died from drowning in the fountain. I’m not suggesting we need enough to drown your mother. A mere vial of the alchemic water should suffice.

“In this chest you’ll find a dozen more of these pistols, along with schematics, holsters, and the accompanying loading apparatuses,” continued Cassius without skipping a beat. “Kate, I want you to bring all of this to the Sanctum Celes to secure us an acquisitions contract through the Sanctum Guard. The Crafter envoy should be willing to meet with you, and subsequently be able to arrange a meeting with the Guard. Use the advance on the acquisitions contract to buy the dealer’s license. You should then have enough left over to buy the water and return home.

“Toby, I’ve already fabricated molds and casts for all of the gun parts, but I want you to help develop a process for mass production. I have a feeling these will be as popular with pioneers as they are with the Guard. Besides with Kate gone, I’ll need to spend most of my day taking care of June, leaving most of the responsibilities of the shop in your care.”

“Understood,” said Toby excited at the prospect of crafting something besides lightning rods or cuckoo clocks.

Kate scanned her eyes around the tunnel as if looking for an exit where there was none. She had mostly composed herself, but the pounding beat of her heart betrayed such composure. While something about this plan didn’t sit well with her, she knew that she must be brave… for her mother.

Cassius once again loaded the revolver and then removed a holster from the chest, affixing it to his daughter’s belt. She acquiesced with only a hint of protest in her facial expressions.

“It’s a dangerous world out there, Kate. The threat of Centaur war parties, Goblin outlaws, scorned erudites, and Elven dissidents are all equally real. Never let this gun leave your side. Back at the house I’ve set aside enough coin to buy passage by rail back and forth to the Sanctum five times over—overlanding on horse or foot would be extremely dangerous, but if like Toby, you meet with a derailment, know that there’s not a race of peoples or beasts on this continent that can survive a blast to the head from the Redrock Special,” said Cassius.

“You’ve named it?” said Kate.

“It’s a working title. What, you don’t like it?”

“No, it’s just that’s it’s weird. Naming a gun like that…”

“Everything needs a name, sweetie. Now let’s see if you’re strong enough to carry this chest the fifteen-hundred miles it takes to get to the Sanctum, just in case you do end up walking!”

Kate picked up the chest without exerting more than a modicum of effort. She had the robust build typical of the Crafter-Gnomes whose predilection for fine work masked their superior physical strength. The three of them moved away from the tiny stream, up the rocky bank, and back towards the wall of the cavern that served as the facade of the Redrock home.

June Redrock sat up in bed. She had heard the three of them come through the stained-glass entryway of their home and could piece together the nature of the demonstration from the sound of the shots.

“Cassius,” she called to her husband.

Cassius took his leave of the others to attend to his wife.

Kate and Toby stood in the front hall. Both were in a state of shock. Kate placed the chest down on a stone bench.

“Well, Tobs, things are about to get a lot stranger in our lives,” said Kate.

“It would appear so,” he replied.

“I’m not so much worried about the trip to the Sanctum or meeting with the Guard as I am with what comes next. I saw the black cloud again today, a colossal form like a billowing mass of soot against the blue sky,” said Kate.

“What do you suppose it means?” asked Toby.

“I guess it’s an omen like the one my dad saw in the stones. He calls it ‘a war of gnomes.’ I wonder what he means. You don’t think that we’d ever go to war with the Diggers?” said Kate.

“No, Kate, I don’t think that’s what he meant. The Diggers are our closest allies, and besides, there’s no longer a reason for war. The humans are gone. It was their greed that caused the last one.

“The way I see it we’ve traded a violent anarchy for a peaceful—if not secretive—regime of law and order. The Consortium works because it creates a fair allocation of resources. Gnomes, Elves, Kobolds, Trolls, Goblins, and Frognaris each get a share of the alchemic waters. I’m not as superstitious as you or Cassius. If there’s a war, it’s going to be a war of suppression against the Centaurs. This land cannot remain wild forever, and as more and more settlers pour out of Old Marianna a new order will be established,” said Toby.

“A new order? The ‘brightest minds’ at Erudite’s Tower barely know what exists two hundred miles east of Fort Siger. And what about the wastes north of Wildnook? There’s still secrets to this continent. For heaven’s sake it’s been hundreds of years and we barely understand the language of the Frognari,” said Kate.

“And the Frognari live less than fifty miles from the coast. I see your point, but I can’t believe that a conflict as devastating as the Calamity of Man is looming around the corner. There’s no need for it; history has finally arrived at an age of plenty. Think about it: the wolf has been at the door since the dawn of time. Famine, disease, drought. With the discovery of Valenaria—of the fountain—all of that has changed. What sane person would choose war over prosperity?” asked Toby.

Just then Cassius entered the hallway.

“Toby, I’d like it if you could live on with us, at least as long as Kate is away.”

“Whatever you need, boss. I can head home right now to pack,” said Toby.

“Please, stay for dinner first, then go home and return in the morning. It’s not that you can’t go home whenever, but it’d be very helpful to have you close at hand. We’re going to have our work cut out for us in the coming months.”

Toby nodded in agreement.

“I wish I could say I cook as well as Mrs. Redrock but truth be told I’m a lousy hand at the oven. Kate can attest to that. She, on the other hand, has been a spectacular help in that department, but us fellers will just have to make due.”

“That’s all right, Cassius. I actually know my way around a kitchen pretty good and might even be able to teach you a thing or two,” said Toby.

“A dubious proposition, but I appreciate your enthusiasm,” said the elder gnome.

The three of them moved to the kitchen where Toby and Kate prepared a meal of corned beef, cabbage, carrots, turnips, and potatoes. Cassius propped himself up at a stool near the hearth and quaffed a welcomed flagon of small beer. Kate’s mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts. Apart from a single visit to Wildnook, she had lived her entire life in the familiar comforts of the Ashevale. If Valenaria was truly a dangerous and wild place, it had, as of yet, revealed none of its true nature to her.

For all intents and purposes she was a stranger to the greater landscape of her homeland. If Valenaria could really be called such a thing…

Whose home was it really?

The Centaurs and Frognari were here before all of the other races.

There was the moment where it looked as though it would be the Humans who would pacify and control the terrain, but their time had come and gone. The humans, in their greed, dug their own graves.

The Elves certainly wouldn’t consider Valenaria their home, as their presence here was merely a colonial venture for the enrichment of Ilfindis—their true homeland.

The diaspora of the Goblins from their archipelago gave rise to their greatest numbers in the Valenarian cities of Fishtown and Port Dag, but their deep connection to the sea implies that the ocean is their home more than any place of terra firma.

The Trolls are nomadic. Apart from Basher’s Market there is no telling where or when they might show up.

While the Digger-Gnomes have a veritable stronghold at Wildnook, like the Elves they too cling to an overseas metropole as the bona fide center of Digger culture.

The Kobolds—deeply introspective since the Calamity—find home in the congregation of their pack. While packs exists throughout the known world, the tribe of Maru, would certainly make the place at her sylvan Hermitage. Was Valenaria their homeland? No, the pack is everything to to the Kobolds, and so wherever goes the pack goes their home.

Lastly, Kate thought of her own people: the Crafter-Gnomes. A volcanic eruption buried their homeland beneath a heap of smoldering ash and magma, tearing the earth asunder: topside and below. So, for the families of the Ashvale this place, this land, was truly all they had.

Few of them (perhaps less than ten thousand) survived the cataclysm that destroyed their country. Now, all of their memories, dreams, love, and fears lived somewhere deep beneath the empty cottages and storefronts of their little town. The Crafters lived in a world of layers and somehow they were beneath it all, only feeling safe in the deepest bowels of the earth while a hollow facsimile of their world telegraphing their enduring spirit to the world.

Kate portioned out four bowls, and the three of them left the kitchen to sit with June in the bedroom.

Mrs. Redrock possessed a rare beauty of character which, in some circles, might even be regarded as grace. For Cassius the melodic quality of her laughter was a balm to soothe life’s tiresome setbacks. At this moment it was a laugh that Cassius dearly missed.

But although the disease had stripped June of her vitality, no tumor could steal away the efficacy of her love. That was a thing entangled into the very fabric of her existence, a potent magic that would outlive this mortal coil, everlasting as the great cosmic river of time flows into the eternal ocean.

For a few somber moments the four of them ate in silence. The warm light of a Crafter home lent itself to restful moods.

“Kate,” said June turning to her only daughter. “Please don’t go. I don’t want you traveling alone in this crazy world.”

Kate shot Cassius a scrutinizing glare, realizing that he hadn’t planned on telling June about their plan until after she had already left for the Sanctum.

“That’s what this is all about isn’t it? Gunshots in the cavern, Toby eating here when he should be at home with his family. You’re sending Kate away on some fool’s errand to turn a profit. I refuse to have my…” June’s words were cut off by the painful sound of coughing.

The shame Cassius felt in this moment could be felt by everyone in the room. In his desperation he concocted a plan to save his business, to save his wife, but at what cost? What if something happened to Kate? His daughter, stubborn as a mule, didn’t let her father torment with the thought for more than a moment.

“It was my idea.”

“Kate,” pleaded June.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be back in a jif. We’ve finished a special order and one of us needs to make the delivery. I volunteered to go, so Toby and Dad work out a way to retool the shop.”

“You’re going to the Sanctum. I know it. Be careful, Kate. Of all the dangers on this continent, that fountain is doubtlessly the most sinister. It acts as a sort of magnet, drawing death to its waters as much as any life it gives.”

“I won’t be allowed in the Crystal Citadel. My business will be conducted entirely in the outer Sanctum and Tunnel District.”

“Irregardless, you will be exposed to the fatal… magnetism of that place.

“The fountain is no boon. It’s an abomination that has broken our world—no thing to be trifled with. Respect it, Kate, but do not be taken in by its charms. Too many have already sold their souls for a glimpse of its effect.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“You will do more than try. You will promise me. The humans lost their entire race to it. Whatever your business is at the Sanctum, promise me you will steer clear of the alchemist’s waters.”

“I promise.” Kate lied and June knew, but there was nothing she could do but recognize her daughter’s headstrong ways. She had been the same way at her age.

“And you there, Toby Wilton Fairchild. I don’t suppose you’re worried about your best friend traveling half-way across the world, alone, carrying a chest of prototype of handguns, which she intends to sell off to a secretive, territorial security force, one—mind you—tasked with guarding a literal frekin’ fountain of youth?” June had saved her ringer for Toby, who, in truth, she cared deeply for and thought of as a member of family.

Now all three of them felt the bite of shame at being “found out” with such precision.

“Come on guys, I’m dying, not dumb. You three think that you run things, but ‘round these parts I’m the boss. And besides, I’ve got ears and eyes in the back of my head. I forgive you all, but please, no more lies.”

The trio were relieved at being absolved of their duplicity and vowed to June never to leave her out of the loop again. Kate cleared their bowls and with Toby returned to the kitchen to clean up after the meal.

Cassius dragged his chair closer to the side of his beloved wife.

“There was a time when I thought your courage and compassion could never be matched. But it seems Kate has more of you in her each passing day.”

June gave her husband a wry sort-of smile that hides a depth of affection which takes a lifetime to cultivate. “Seems she’s acquired no small bit of your cunning either.”

“Heh, perhaps.”

“Cash? You think she’ll be safe out there?” asked June.

“Safe? In all honesty, there may very well moments of danger, but I think she’ll make out alright. She got more than my cunning. She got my deep-set survival instincts.”

June’s smile took on an incredulous snark. “Deep-set survival instincts?”

“Think of it! How many houses would have burned down without my lightning rods? I’m a hero, June-bug!”

“Crafters don’t even live in those houses.”

“And what if they portal into a burning inferno? Ahh… and what about the rods I sent to Fishtown last Fall. Think of all the sweet Goblins whose lives have been saved by my ingenuity and gallantry. I wonder if someday they’ll put up a statue of me in the square.”

There it was. He really had to fish for it, but thence came that which kept his foolish heart beating. It was little more than a warm chuckle, cut short by the sound of rough coughs, but for Cassius it was a fulfillment.

“Rest up, dear. I’ll brew some nettles, then we should both be getting to sleep.”

In the kitchen Toby and Kate were putting the bowls back inside the cupboard when Cassius came into the room.

“Well, I should be on my way,” said Toby. “Kate, if you leave before I get here tomorrow… be safe.”

“Will do, Tobs. You take care of yourself too.”

“Get home safe, Toby. Be seeing you in the morning. Lot of work ahead of us, so be prepared to get yer hands dirty,” said Cassius.

“Give my goodnight to Mrs. Redrock. I’d give it myself but I don’t want to disturb her.”

“Goodnight, Toby,” came a faint call from down the hallway.

“Goodnight, Mrs. R,” yelled Toby in reply.

Then, the young apprentice took his coat from a rack in the hall, and with a whoosh of the entry portal, he took his leave of the Redrock family.

“I’m just putting on some nettles for Mom. Come sit for a bit before heading to bed. I’ll get you set up with everything in the morning. It’s going to be an early start, but for tonight just spend some time with Mom and I.”

For an hour or so the three of them sat together, sharing the simple pleasure of each other’s company. June would take delicate sips of stinging nettles, letting the warmth soothe her aching throat. Cassius sat next to the bed, one hand resting gently on June’s hip.

Kate didn’t know this at the time (or perhaps she never would have never left the warms light of that room) but this moment—it would be the last in her life that the three would spend together, simply existing in that cozy place below the earth. It was a moment she would often return to in memory, when life’s situation became untenable, but tonight she just sat there, sinking into the plush of the parlor chair, humming the lullabies June would sing to her when she was a little girl.

Cassius had been right. There would be a war of gnomes and gods' be damned for the part they would all play.