“So... what do you think, Ord?” Evenin asked her former teacher, and before that, former teaching assistant. “Was it a good idea? Do you think this will succeed. Or have I convinced the leaders of hundreds of thousands of dwarves to fund a doomed project?”

Ord, a matured dwarf, who had become The State Librarian, walked around with a wooden wheelbarrow of books, putting them back into the shelves where they belonged.

“I think, Evenin, that it was a bold suggestion.”

“Bold?” Evenin asked in a low voice, insecurity seeping out. “Like bad bold? Did I overreach?”

“No, Evenin. I think it was good bold. Certain times call for bold actions, because anything else will not be enough. You know that.” The dwarf was reordering some books in a shelf now.

“What about the bold choice I didn’t make?” Her voice got even more quiet. “What about the siege of Mane, which we’re all pretty sure to come soon.”

Ord sighed. “The siege of Mane.” He echoed. “Evenin.” He turned around. The dwarf had a beard over half a meter long, thick, well-groomed. The length was held together at the middle and bottom by rune-carved metal rings, creating a front tail of sorts. With caring eyes, the longbeard responded: “Do you believe that Mane is our fight? And if so: why do you feel that way?”

Evenin breathed out a few times. Calm, but confused by her own emotions. She leaned against a nearby reading table, not quite meeting Ord’s eyes; thinking. “I think... I don’t like the idea of leaving other people to die, or lose their homes.”

“But people die all the time, and they lose their homes every now and then too. Fires. Storms. Collapsing mountain sides or tunnels. What’s so special about Mane?”

“I’m not sure, or rather... It just feels like in this situation, we have more power to make a difference. But we choose to withhold that power. And I just can’t make that square within me. Something about it makes me want to say no, we must rally together, we must go out and fight! It’s something else when it is truly faraway and disconnected from us, or an accident we’ll have difficulty predicting. But this feels so close. Even though I’ve never been to The Three Cities, still, I’ve met their merchants many times. Am I wrong to want to tell my fellow dwarves to go out and risk their lives, for a war in another land, and one with no guarantees of victory?”

Ord eyed the Minister of Education. For a little while neither of them said anything. Then: “No. Its not wrong, not if they want to. But I was there in the chamber, remember? In the background there, I heard what you said. And it seems like a strategy with the 4th city will be more meaningful as an action, than whatever expeditionary force we can create. Right now the cities are losing because they lack mages, right?”

“Yeah.” Evenin said, and surprised herself when she whisked away a tear from one of her eyes. “And they also lack enough trained soldiers, and many people have refused the conscription, or escaped to Nara and Mane. Fatalities are high even when they fight with numerical superiority. I talked with some of the merchants coming from there and who were visiting Motharan, they told me that. People are scared. Especially scared to fight.”

Ord nodded, somberly. “Then I think you already know the answer you need. Dwarven numbers and dwarven weapons would not win this war – not without great losses. The plan you put forward, well, it is more likely to give us the time to make the difference that will not just extend the struggle by a few more years, but it could also, actually, win the war.”

“Many peasants have also joined dungeon lords as servants” Evenin added, mind just spouting the thoughts that came through her. “In exchange for immunity from attacks. It’s said the dungeon lords offer them tax reductions, and autonomy while working.“

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Ord tried to lighten the mood a bit. “I believe I read in one of these books somewhere” he gestured at the nearby shelves, “that The Three Cities have many laborers among their peasantry bound by strict contracts. Sounds like a promotion to me.”

“I guess” Evenin responded. “But their freedom is being followed by the blood of their communities, destruction of their villages and towns, and the end to the societies they live in.” Evenin looked into Ord’s eyes. “Would you have taken that promotion, if you had the alternative of fleeing?”

For a few seconds, Ord said nothing. Instead he glanced at the books in his wheelbarrow. Now it was his time to think. After a while, the dwarf’s face came up, and with a somber expression, he spoke, quietly, a single word: “No.”

Another tear slid down Evenin’s cheek. She bid the dwarf good night, and went to bed.