“That’s a lot of dwarves!” a human woman exclaimed, high up from a second floor balcony.

Walking along a road half a dozen meters away, an old dwarf woman, her white hair braided and decorated with 2 silver hairpins, and her body shielded by a thick but loose purple robe, glanced up to see the exclaimer. The dwarf saw the human, and next to this first one, 3 others leaning against a railing. Together, a total of 4 mouths gaped in her general direction. Taking her eyes off the balcony, she glanced behind her right shoulder.

A river of dwarves. That’s what she saw. Up the southern artery of Ermos too many dwarves to count either marched on their feet, rode giant rams, or sat comfortably on wagons pulled by more rams. Some wagons were also pulled by donkeys and muels. The mighty river of dwarves stretched as far south as her eyes on the ground could see.

“Who are they?” Another woman of the balcony asked.

“I don’t know” the first responded, “but I’ve never seen that many dwarves in one place!”

The old dwarf woman, walking ahead of the many dwarves occupying the horizon, smiled briefly up at the balcony. Many dwarves indeed, young human.

“Who is she?” The question came from the other side of the street, a male urban elf. His eyes were fixed on her. When her eyes moved to meet his, his didn’t move. Rather, he only seemed to get more curious.

“I bet she’s a dwarven princess! Or queen more like it.” Another urban elf eagerly offered, standing next to the first.

The comment stretched the old dwarf woman’s cheeks into a smile, but she continued her walking, saying nothing.

“I’m more curious what is that!?” The words came from a new young human, a recent arrival to scene.

“Is that from the wilds?” It was another young man’s voice, though this one was anonymized by the now hundreds of people converging from every building and every side street around. Some people were just on their way somewhere, but stopped upon seeing the gathering crowds and the long line of dwarves. Along both sides of the highway, great crowds were forming. A grand audience for an even grander entrance.

“I’ve never seen anything like it” a human woman began, staring out from a first floor window along with another woman and a teenage girl, “though I can’t say I’ve been much outside the city. Is that thing from our countryside?”

“It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen” answered a human man from the window next over. This onlooker was joined by a totally absorbed young boy.

“See all those wagons in the distance?” A woman from another second floor balcony pointed, this time from the other side of the highway. “What could they be bringing?”

Joining the growing commentary, yet another human woman appeared. With her upper body leaning out from a window next to this latest balcony, she took on the task of answering that very question. With hands shielding her eyes from the sun, she peered seriously into the south. “Looks like bars of metal. A lot of it. Many wagons of it. But there’s also lots of other stuff.” The woman continued peering. “I see chests, lots of chests. And there are racks, stacked on top of each other. I’m not sure, but I think I see weapons and tools. And there, a bit closer this way, that looks like earthenware, and, there” she pointed, “even closer, that other wagon. Mmm. If I’m not totally mistaken, I think that’s PORCELAIN!”

“Traders?” The woman on the balcony questioned. “But they’re way too many to be just traders. And look at all those dwarves” the woman pointed to near the front of the line, “just walking with their boots, and riding those big goats.”

“I can only say what I see, sister” the window looker defended.

With more such commentary arising from the flanks, several minutes of walking passed for the dwarf woman, with the crowd producing more questions, and more speculations. Eventually though, one moment would stand out to the dwarf, seizing her attention. It was a caned, very old, grey-haired dwarf man, who suddenly exclaimed from the crowd: “IT’S HER! IT’S HER!” The dwarf man pointed with a shaking finger as enthusiastically as his age would allow.

“Really?” The word came from a younger dwarf next to the man. “Are you sure?”

“IT IS! I’M SURE! It is her.” The really old dwarf man waved at the less old dwarf woman ahead of the procession. The woman waved back with a smile, and a nod, the latter of which almost seemed to stop the grey-haired dwarf’s heart. “Mother of The City” the old dwarf man muttered.

“Mother of The City” echoed his younger companion, his mouth coming slightly agape as he joined in staring. “Evenin of Redratall.”

“Evenin... of Redratall” the old man reminisced.

You make me feel old, old man. Evenin walked on, head a little lower. If you are the first to recognize my face... She shook her head slightly. Well, it’s been over 100 years since I was truly relevant here. That’s more than the lifetime of almost any human, I must remember. 2 human lifetimes even. She mused over her own age. Yet, had I been a human, I would only be at the start of my 50s. Just passed my prime. Just at that moment when thoughts start to slow, but real wisdom begins to surface.

Passing up and over a small hill in the highway, Evenin’s eyes were finally treated to the major sights of the metropolis, which’d been difficult to see so far due to the crowding of shops and multifloored houses. On her right, the first of The Iron Towers revealed themselves to her. The Iron City, memories of thousands of gnomes in capes busying about pavements flooded her mind. The Iron Towers, there’s more of them than last I was here. She even thought she saw one tower being half-finished in the distance. Behind and a little to the side of The Iron City was The Little Mountain, the small mountain formation hollowed out in most places for the housing of the city’s great dwarven population, with additional housing and buildings spread all over the mountain from top to bottom. Other than these general features though, all of which she knew well, no details were visible from this distance. Evenin moved her eyes to in front of her. Ahead, a trail of smoke ran across the horizon straight foward, while she heard the sound of a horn blow, announcing something. Letting her gaze glide to the left, past the crowding people, she saw the tall, thick and mighty great trees of The City Forest, towers in their own right, but made of living wood, and the forest itself, surrounding these giants of nature, and shrouding the whole great part of this city in a, mostly green, mystery. Looks like The City Forest has expanded a few blocks. Or is that just my imagination? The City Forest looked larger than ever before. So much had it grown since its first years, I’m wondering if it won’t soon take up over half the western part of the outer metropolis. Considering the spatial demands necessary for the green-elven way of life, it looks like an erosion of the urban landscape is the only possiblity forward. She went back to look at The Iron City for comparison, and its tall Iron Towers. While the gnomes expand vertically, the elves expand horizontally.

Evenin looked ahead again. She and her procession of dwarves occupied almost completely the left half of the paved highway as they marched toward the city center. On her right though, traffic went on as best as it could. There, humans, urban elves, dwarves, mecha-gnomes, and even the occasional green-elf rushed along the stone. The people she saw were diverse. Not just in kinship, but in their trade and their purpose. Evenin took notice of it all. There were travellers, vaguely similar to those of Evenin’s group. They’ve got thick capes, headwear of wrapped cloth and sunblocking hats in straw, leather and cotton, and they got luggage. What else would they be? She noticed a couple of affluent humans had also afforded themselves sunblockers in silk. Most people were not travellers though. There were also crafters, easy to spot, not many people would run around with heavy metal tools and leather aprons. Not many of those. However, one group there were a lot of, was the errand runners, at least their sacks, baskets, small backpacks, and affordable attire, speaks to me of such an occupation. And there were farmers, bringing goods into the city, or their empty wagons and carts out of it. The farmers were easiest to spot. When they didn’t ride donkey- or horse-pulled wagons filled with grain, hay or potatoes, or manually pulling carts with fruits, vegetables, or piles of eggs laid on blankets and straw – they were pulling and guiding cows, pigs, goats and sheep, for slaughter, or for sale, she remarked. Of the few people that didn’t fit the marks of either traveller, crafter, errand-runner nor farmer, there were the small groups of armed people, wearing dissimilar outfit and gear. Guild warriors, likely. Their passing she eyed with particular interest.

“Mommy, it has a saddle! Can I ride it?” A human toddler girl, at the side of the pavement, pointed to the space behind Evenin. The old dwarf woman felt her face smile again, as she gave the excited little human female a glance.

“No sweetie” a woman next to the child responded, “that’s not ours to ride. Also, it doesn’t look safe.”

Evenin’s eyes departed from the little girl, and she paid the duo no more mind, but just walked on. As she and her procession were passing further into the metropolis, she heard a woman shout from beside the road: “Look! The dwarves are splitting up!” Evenin found the woman in the crowd. An urban elf. She followed the woman’s gaze and vaguely pointing arm. Behind in the procession, a sidestreet leading away from the highway, and on towards The Little Mountain, had several wagons of dwarves leaving the caravan. She gave the scene a little look, then ignored it. A few more minutes of marching later, and another voice, reaching through the crowd with a distinctive loud surprise, informed her that another large group of wagons had begun splitting off to join another sidestreet. Glancing back again, she recognized the street that lead to The Iron City. She paid the curious people of the crowd a few glances, then minded them no more. Rather, she fixed her gaze ahead. There, far away but not too far, she saw a truly unfamiliar sight. Iron boxes? With wheels? And gnomes sitting inside them? The boxes all connected together, and were somehow moved flat along the unpaved side of the highway. As her eyes took in the sight, she likened the boxes in her mind to a chain of mine carts. But ahead of these mine carts without a mine, something truly strange was at work. It’s like a smoke-spitting monster shape of iron, but inanimate. All I see are the wheels moving, and the clouds it leave behind its trail. The dead iron-beast, to the smiles of its gnome passengers, pulled its iron-carts along a pair of metallic raised tracks, resting on hard dirt beneath. The speed of it all was nothing to scoff at, and it was heading with full force towards the city center. What on Aclima am I looking at? Evenin did not say the words out loud, though now that she thought about it, this thing reminded her of something. Something she’d read about, in strange reports, and equally strange diplomatic communications.

That oddity ran away from her sight though, and did not appear again to her, before she and her dwarven caravan were nearing the city walls of Ermos. There, as her procession began closing in on the place, she noticed the iron beast resting beside a small wooden building. No gnomes were in the carts now, but as she watched, a growing crowd of gnomes were opening doors into the carts, and getting inside them. Where’d the other gnomes go? As she looked ahead, through a pair of wide open and thick city gates – The Southern Gates of Ermos – she saw a multitude of gnomes, disappearing in the distance behind stone and wood. Interesting, Evenin wondered, and then noticed something else. A group of human soldiers, standing and waiting beneath the same gates, not looking at either iron beast nor gnome, but at her, and her dwarves.

Behind her, the mass of dwarves slowly came to halt. Meanwhile, Evenin, as the procession’s head, approached.

“Are you the envoy we were briefed on?” asked a man, one of the soldiers. The old dwarf woman did not immediately respond. Instead, she studied him for a second. Brown, half-long hair, young eyes, an open, expectant expression. Probably no older than his early 20s. Like most of his fellows, the man held a spear in his right hand, while a polished helmet was grasped with the elbow of his left arm. At his belt was a shortsword, sheathed, and he had armor – plate – for his wrists, shoulders, legs, and chest. The basics of a city guard platoon, Evenin concluded, her eyes surveying them.

“I am” she confirmed, and came to a full stop right in front of the armed men and -women.

“That’s one interesting animal” a female guard commented.

Evenin glanced a little behind her left shoulder. She was met by the wet snout of a white bear. It sniffed at the air, before touching her cheek affectionately. “He’s fully tame.” The great polar animal’s presence imposed upon the nerves of the guards, capturing the full attention of their eyes, even as it did nothing of remark. “And well-behaved. Or at least, it is, if you are” she smiled back at the guards.

“Oh course we are” the first guard smiled at her, maybe a little nervous.

“What’s his name?” the female guard inquired.

“Snowman” Evenin smiled. The female guard, smiling and her cheeks flushing, held in a snicker. Though some air abruptly did escape her nose and make a sound.

“Please, let us escort you to your lodgings.” The male guard bowed a little and gestured past his own soldiers, through the gate and on towards the city center.

Evenin nodded. The soldiers quickly ran into a frontal escort position, and the procession resumed.

On the other side of the gates, the dwarves were met by the grandeur of The Statues of Heroes. Evenin eyed each stone statue in rememberance of the people she’d met, decades before. They all died to end up here. The were memories of great warriors, great markspeople, great mages, great warlords. Insofar as war can be great. At the corner of her eyes, Evenin saw more wagons depart from the procession. She gave them a few glances, then forgot about them.

Passing through the grounds of the statues, hundreds of Evenin’s dwarves, mostly robed, and lightly packed, flooded gradually into a large open square. Taking up positions behind Evenin – their caravan leader – the multitudes of dwarves formed an elongated crescent shape. On their left, this mass of dwarves, including Evenin, faced 10 waiting wizards and witches. Representatives of the university, she recognized. On their right, the viscinity of 45 other people waited. Officials and politicans. She knew several of them. The larger group mostly consisted of dwarves, though there was also a whole 9 green-elves there, 2 wild-gnomes, 5 mecha-gnomes, and at least half a dozen humans and urban elves.

A dwarf among the 45 or so, with a fat piece of golden jewelry around his neck, stepped forth to greet her.

“Welcome, Mother of The City.” The dwarf bowed, then reached forward and took Evenin’s hand, kissing it in respect.

To their left, some mage stepped forward and started talking to most of the dwarves behind her. She cast an eye towards the mage, but otherwise paid that event little mind. Instead, she faced the dwarf in front of her.

“It is always amusing to visit Ermos, Chief Stonearmor” Evenin responded, “because it always seems like I have so much more status here, than I have in my own mountains.”

The dwarf raised an eyebrow, quickly disagreeing: “Can you really say that, Mother, when you march into our city with over a thousand dwarves on your heels?”

A human man in fine, silver-colored silken pants and -shirt, his fingers full of precious metal rings with large gems, and his back covered by a long red cape elaborately painted, stepped forward to join the conversation. “Speaking of your thousand dwarves: where are they? This surely isn’t a thousand dwarves. It seems more like 2, maybe 3 hundred. And there’s hardly any wagons here.”

“Greetings, Lord Veron.” Evenin replied, giving the familiar man a nod. “The caravan split off during the time just before and just after we arrived the gates. The traders and their people have places to be. And most of them, you must understand, have prearranged destinations in The Little Mountain and The Iron City.”

“Oh” the man responded. “I did hear you brought some of your mountains’ finest porcelain. I was hoping to quickly acquire some for my household, before the other nobles get their hands all over it.” The man gave a small courteous smile, and for a second, the 3 stood there in silence, before Lord Veron continued: “I don’t see any luggage around you. Did you not bring any. Beside this most terrifying beast friend of yours.” The man gestured at Snowman, which sniffed mightily in response, capturing the eyes of the Lord into a wary momentary stare.

“I have my luggage with someone from the homeland. Keil Goatgold, of the Redratall’s Union of Goat Herders. She’s a personal friend, and she’s come to sell our famous goat cheeses. Perhaps” she smiled a little extra at Lord Veron, “you should acquire some of that as well, if you go looking for our porcelain later.”

“Heh” Lord Veron laughed the faintest of laughs, then went into a smile. “I suppose I’ll have to check it out.”

At the left side of the square, the only present wizard not to have beard was concluding his speech. It was an urban elf, with long silver-white hair, green-blue eyes, a simple but fine blue robe with purple collars, a metal badge on his chest, and a huge piece of jewelry hanging from his neck – one that was visibly emanating magic.

“At sunset tonight” the elf proclaimed, “a massive outdoor welcoming dinner for you all will be hosted at the university grounds in our park. You’re all free to attend, and all of us” the wizard gestured at the nearby wizards and witches, “will be there in attendance with you. You’ll have a chance to ask us questions, or get acquainted, either with us, or with many of your senior students, who will also be attending. Now, if you’ll all just follow after, we’ll take you to your dormitories.”

Upon hearing and seeing the last word being spoken, the many dwarves in front of the mage began shuffling their feet forward. Slowly, they, along with the 9 wizards and witches, were moving to follow the urban elf as he turned to march deeper into the city. Evenin stole a moment to gaze at the wizards and witches. She saw 2 mecha-gnomes, a wild-gnome, a dwarf, 2 green-elves, and 3 humans. They were obviously mages. The aesthetic was all there. All robes, with many pieces of jewelry at their necks and fingers. Some had staffs in their hands, some had wands at their belt. Their hats were large and pointy, even their shoes were pointy, for whatever unfathomable reason, Evenin wondered, and they had the kinds of messy hair and half-done beards that spoke to a lack of priority in their looks. They were powerful, though, and Evenin knew all of them. If not by direct acquaintance, then by reading reports of the going-ons at the university. They all had power levels estimated in the few hundreds. Collectively, these wizards and witches are strong enough to defeat an army on the battlefield. So had been the conclusion of her dwarven allies back home. Powerful, very powerful, Evenin told herself. Today though, these powerful people had – and reluctantly so, going by their bored expressions and slow responses – been relegated to greeting a host of new dwarven students. The green-blue-eyed urban elf leading them, she knew him too.

“Erdonom, Head and Master Mage, of The Department of First Year Students.” Evenin said, as Chief Stonearmor, Lord Veron, and the many others that’d waited for her, watched the mages leave. Behind Evenin, dozens of other diplomats and their aides from The Dwarven States were left still standing, and trying to look patient. After the traders and now the mages-to-be had split from what had, until just an hour ago, been a caravan proper, this was all that remained. Us the politicians.

“Indeed” Lord Veron let out, though his word was meant for the name she’d just dropped. The Lord turned to face her. “Shall we perhaps escort you and your dwarven friends to the houses we’ve made available for you? And“ the man gestured at Snowman, “perhaps a stable for the bear?”

The bear in question took a lazy step forward, and Evenin grabbed her bestial friend’s head without looking, pulling his snout in for a casual neck hug. “His name is Snowman. And Snowman is my bodyguard, Lord Veron, and thus: an indoor bear.”

Lord Veron raised both eyebrows briefly, but then questioned the matter no further. “Of course, as you wish.”

What followed next was a brief period of mingling, as the dwarven diplomats were welcomed forward, and the rest of the city officials and politicans approached, and they all got together and started greeting and introducing each other. Politic-ing. Eventually though, this chatting and pleasantry came to a conclusion, and Lord Veron once again took the word: “Should we perhaps escourt you all to your prepared housing? I’m sure more than a few of you must be terribly tired after this very long journey.”

More than a few dwarves agreed to that, and the welcoming committee of 45 or so began guiding dwarves to various places. For some time, many of the diplomats would walk along the same streets, sometimes talking over to each other, but as they began moving deeper and deeper into the city, fewer and fewer diplomats and their aides walked together. This all happened gradually, up until Evenin felt herself guided only by Lord Veron, the city guards from before, and a few of Lord Veron’s personal guards. The latter had inconspicuously merged in with the crowd over time, descending from hidden guard positions along the shadows and corners of the streets. Evenin had noticed them, but not been alarmed. She knew Lord Veron, and she knew how he managed his security.

“You already know this of course from our messenger” the man began another topic as they walked, “but I’d like to tell you personally that the dinner party at my estate tomorrow is going as planned, and we have a large amount of guests attending. We’ve even had to accomodate some from The Little Mountain and The Iron City, who’ve insisted on getting to meet you and your associates before The Yellow Chamber meeting. You know what the gnomes want, I assume?” He gave her a look.

“Their desires and proposals have been made quite clear to us all.” Evenin confirmed.

“Well then, I assume also it’ll be brought up more than once tomorrow. Your guided tour of the university in 3 days is also going as planned, the mages have been unusually excited about your visit. Apparently they’ve encountered some great breakthroughs in their studies.”

“Oh” Evenin nodded with appropriate surprise, “sounds exciting.”

“Indeed.” Lord Veron nodded. “Also, as I understand your plan, The Little Mountain wants to host a grand banquet of their own in your honor, the day after tomorrow?”

“Yes, I’ve received many invitations to parties, but I’ve had to turn most of them down. My priorities for this visit will not be to make new acquaintances – however nice I am sure they all would be – but to assess the state of the city and the land. Next year is the 100th year anniversary of the start of our substantial aid to Ermos, and I’ve been tasked with finding out if the venture has been a full success, and whether continued support for Ermos is...” she took a serious sounding inward breath, “necessary.”

“Oh” Lord Veron let out, suddenly and visibly a little taken aback by the burden that’d just been revealed to lie on his shoulders. He was silent for a little moment as they continued walking north-east, between increasingly luxurious architecture, and cleaner streets, on towards The Marble District. “I hear your mornings for the next 2 days are also taken. And now that I hear you say it, the purpose of those other tours you wish to make seem rather apparent.”

“Yes” Evenin acknowledged, “I wish to see how far Ermos City has developed, since my last visit almost a decade ago.”

The 2, along with Snowman and the guards, continued on and into The Marble District. Their arrival there was immediately clear. They passed among several ostentatious houses with statues and fountains and overdone hedges. Although many people though, Evenin remarked, might not think these homes as houses. I know more than a few who’d probably call these minor palaces. She gazed towards one particularly grand home at her side of the street. There, her eyes followed a well-crafted spiralling wooden stairway, leading up, up a wooden tower built into one of the sides of a house. As her gaze reached the top there, her ears picked up a relaxed chat, while her eyes spied the backs of a human and an urban elf, sitting on dining chairs, drinking from tall glasses, their arms leaning against a wooden railing, with their view probably overlooking the city. The line between house and palace is certainly a little blurred here, she noted. This particular grandeur would not last forever though. Soon, these grandest of homes made way for the slightly less ostentatious ones, and arriving at some new more moderate streets, one particular house stood out there. As this house was waiting – for Evenin. The envoy eyed it. She remarked to herself that it, too, was a grand house in its own way, with a large lush garden, and lots of rooms. But certainly a step down among the wealthiest of the wealthiest. She knew in advance that this house would be at her disposal for the entirety of her mission’s duration. An expensive gift, a sign of respect, and an attempted purchase of goodwill, by the very rich Lord who’d walked her, and which was now coming to a stop right next to her. Evenin stopped as well, and Lord Veron turned to look down, and into her face.

“Here it is. I wish for your stay here to be most comfortable” the Lord gave her a bow of the head. Several human and an urban elf servant waited for her at the door.

“Thanks for the walk, Lord Veron.” Evenin gave a slight head-bow back.

“We’ll see each other tomorrow then, Mother of The City, as the dwarven elders call you.”

“I’ll see you at the dinner party” Evenin confirmed. The Lord gave one last bow, and then turned around, both he and his guards walking away. Away and into a low-hanging evening sun.

“Do you wish for us to stand guard at your door, envoy?” It was the soldier from before, that male human city guard with brown half-long hair.

Evenin gestured with an elegant hand at her Snowman. “I have all the security I need, soldier.”

The soldier gave an immediate and quick military bow. “Then we wish you a good evening, envoy. We’ll take our leave.”

Evenin watched them go for a few seconds. Then she turned back to face her new house. There, she was met by some very white human and elven faces. They looked absolutely terrified. For a moment, Evenin looked at their white faces in confusion, but then she blew air from her nose and shook her head in a smile at them. “Don’t you worry” she stepped back and patted her massive white bear, “Snowman is a very good bear. With him, your safety is only increased. He doesn’t eat either humans nor elves.” Or at least not anymore, the old dwarf mentally added. She stepped forward, and the servants created a very wide space between them, as she first, stepped up the walkway, and entered the open door. Behind her, and lumbering with his great and mighty paws, came Snowman. The bear followed her – in with his companion.

Inside, that is to say, with the Mother of The City.