“You do realize” Evenin said loudly across the theater of politics, “that the resources you are asking for, with the timeframe for their repayment, it would take up a third of an average dwarf’s lifetime, and more than the lifetime of almost any human?”

“We are aware” Tekla Steelpower answered in a loud voice, her arms brought high in the air, and currently seeking the crowd’s attention. The little mecha-gnome was standing at the center stage of The Yellow Chamber, with levels of chairs raised around her at every side, and an audience of nearly 100 politicians watching her exchange with the legendary diplomat, the latter standing by her chair within the rows of seats. “But it would be an investment worthy of generations, Evenin of Redratall!” The gnome paused long for effect, and looked around at the council members, meeting their judging gazes with her own for the most part neutral expression, but also with the hints of a smile. An act meant to signify to the assembly a commitment to friendly, but sound reasoning. “Mother of The City” she looked back at Evenin, “let’s give birth to another great link between The Dwarven States, and The Lands of Ermos.” The gnome let go of her neutrality for a moment, and took on the performance of a passionate appeal. “This venture, The Trans-Melrum Ironhorse Project, which The Iron City seeks – do not think of it as a project for the mere benefit of us mecha-gnomes. It is a project FOR ALL the peoples, from the west–“ Tekla gestured directionally with her hand, “–to the east! We merely seek to cement, and to finalize, the strong bonds between our peoples.” Another smaller pause, the gnome letting her passionate words linger in the ears of the audience, before continuing. “My company, The Steaming Neigh Corporation, we have the skills, we have the experience in building, in managing. I take it you, upon your entry to the city, you even experienced our skill yourself, did you not? The Iron City Express?”

That iron beast I saw along the highway? Evenin considered for the briefest of a second. “Yes” she confirmed, “I believe I saw that of which you speak.”

“On a busy day, this single set of tracks will transport upwards of a thousand gnomes in total, envoy. A thousand or more gnomes who do not have to walk for an hour to get to the gates of the city. Our ironhorse brings them there in less than 15 minutes. That means at least 1 and half hours saved in a day, going back and forth, for every gnome. If spatial allocation in this city wasn’t an obstacle, envoy, our tracks would’ve reached further still, and our passenger wagons built bigger too, to service not just the gnomes, but all the peoples.” The gnome gestured about to all the different kins assembled. “The whole city interconnected. Anyone could’ve reached anywhere in matters of minutes instead of hours. And now imagine: with The Trans-Melrum Ironhorse Project, a month of travel can be reduced to but a few days. No more need of wagons pulled over dirt roads full of rocks and wet soil, by draft animals that need feeding and rest. Instead, the ironhorse can travel day and night, carrying not just passengers, but also wood, coal, minerals, and large quantities of goods. Any shortage in your Young Mountains, envoy, can be made up for in a few days, with wagons pulled by The Steaming Neigh Corporation’s fast and reliable ironhorse! A food crisis? We in Ermos could solve your food shortage faster than most of your neighbors! A lumber crisis? Ermos got you covered.” As the gnome woman concluded her speech with a firm nod, her expression turned into a big strong smile of reassuring confidence, and she interlocked her hands together in front of her chest.

Among the audience members, Evenin decided to sit down as it became evident the gnome was finished. The envoy eyed the little one, giving the latter a neutral and reserved look of interest.

“Thank you” Lord Veron rose up from a chair seated at the front, “representative Tekla Steelpower, of The Steaming Neigh Corporation, jointly invited here today by the other representatives from The Iron City.” The lord clapped politely, leading to most of the rest of the room clapping politely with him, the mecha-gnomes present showing noticeably more enthusiasm in said clapping.

As the clapping died down, the lord ceased too, and brought out a scroll from a pocket at his chest, reading it while the rest of the room waited. “Next item on the agenda” he announced, “is a proposal brought forward by a majority of our representatives from The Little Mountain. The proposal concerns reform of our Substitute Healthcare Alternative for the Masses.” The lord moved his eyes over the part of the audience where the dwarves were gathered. “Chief Stoneheart, please present your case.” The human sat down again. From among the dwarves, a man broad and muscled, with a thick long black beard and equal hair, stepped forward. The dwarf man wore a tunic embroidered with shiny metals all over to make him look wealthy. His style was clean, like an aristocrat, but the size of his shoulders spoke of arms that’d been used, and used well, whether in sports, or in manual labor.

He stepped forth to position himself at the center of the room on the stage, and looked around. He neither smiled nor gave off much of an expression at all, except perhaps looking a bit serious. “For 33 years this organization, S.H.A.M.” the dwarf’s voice spoke deep, “has taken the tax money of the citizens of our city, and handed it out – for free.” The dwarf paused briefly at the weight of the last words. “The recipients have been do-gooders in want of a hobby, and these people have in turn given it out to people in want of a job. For 33 years, the morals of this city have fallen. The poor now expect healthcare, when they’ve done NOTHING–” he shouted the word for emphasis, then paused half a second to let it bore into the audience “–to deserve it. Meanwhile, this city needs investments. Like the project my colleagues from The Iron City has presented to us” the man gestured to Tekla Steelpower, sitting with the crowd of other mecha-gnomes. “THAT is a fine use of taxpayer money. Without such investments, our city cannot go forward. And we need to go forward! Our war depends on it! Towards a future where Ermos and The Young Mountains are connected. A future of increased trade, increased travel – more for everyone!” More pause. He spread his arms out, and looked around, his face now obviously serious as he met the eyes of his audience. “To get there, as the envoy has pointed out, we need finances. People, representatives, there’s a question of money here, which cannot be ignored. Metals in huge quantities will have to be paid for. Numerous workers will have to be hired. But the city can afford it. However, if we are to afford it, we must economize. We must make room in the city’s budget for the decades to come.” More pause, more serious looking around into faces. “Thus” he continued, “we propose a necessary reform of S.H.A.M. We propose turning S.H.A.M. into an enterprise. The poor must also pay for their healthcare. But that is not just for the city’s benefit, it is also for their benefit. When they start to pay for their services and their medicines, S.H.A.M. will be able to afford to raise the quality of both.” With his arms spread out, and both palms open and pointed upwards, he raised his hands in a motion, as if figuratively pushing said quality up there and then. “Because today, this organization barely provides anything for the sick. In all honesty, we should face the fact that S.H.A.M. is a waste. It is wasted money in every respect. However, should that organization start to seek profit, its services need no longer be so subpar. And while the quality goes up!” The dwarf figuratively pointed with one of his fingers up in the air. “The city saves money, and earns profit. And that, good representatives, means money for investment. Instead of the S.H.A.M., the new organization will be named the Substitute Healthcare Alternative for the Masses, Enterprise! Everyone” now the dwarf came out with his hands, seeking their full attention with his deep voice, “let us take S.H.A.M. to its next stage! Let’s go, from a money-losing venture, to a profitable one!” The dwarf lowered his arms, and went silent. He was finished.

Lord Veron stood up again. “Thank you, Chief Stoneheart. Any questions or comments from the audience?”

Evenin raised her arm.

“Yes, please envoy. Speak.”

“Thanks, Lord Veron” she responded, then turned to face the deep-voiced, broad muscled dwarf. “I have one question, a more general one, really. In the last 33 years, the few times I’ve visited, I’ve never heard of this S.H.A.M. organization. Which is quite surprising to me. Could somebody indulge me, please, a little more about what it is, and its function within the city?”

Lord Veron nodded.

“Well...” Chief Stoneheart began. But was abruptly cut off as one of the green-elves stood up from among the crowd.

“I can explain” the elf man said, “because I have friends who work with the organization.”

Evenin nodded lightly for the elf to go on.

“Do you remember The Choker of Masses striking Ermos 34 years ago? That plague which spread all over the city, and killed nearly 60000 people during its most active year.”

“Yes” Evenin responded, putting on a face of recollection, “I remember reading about that. I wasn’t here around that time, though.”

“The Choker of Masses” the elf continued, “was simply called The Choker by most, particularly when it was discussed here in The Yellow Chamber, among our lords, ladies–” the man let his eyes wander for a second over the crowd, as if accusing them of something, “– clan leaders, guild leaders, merchant representatives.” His eyes stopped wandering, and he looked at Evenin. “When the full scale of its impact started to become clear and visible in the streets, we had the university work hard, to discover a way to beat it. Only by the numerous mages and scholars brought together to discover a way of banishing it from the city, did we eventually understand that it was a magically enhanced natural disease, released upon us by the dungeon lord of Ergadjum. The mages, I don’t know their magical arts, but they discovered some sort of magic and technique for countering the plague, and they started protecting themselves, their people, and the people inside the city walls – except for The Raven’s Slum. Later they began selling their services to the dwarves and the mecha-gnomes. My people, who’d been isolating in The City Forest, paid for a few of our kind to receive preventative measures, so we could interact with the rest of the city. But The Raven’s Slum, and most people in Old Ermos Town, or Southwall, these lacked in any means of surviving the plague. They had neither the connections, the money, nor the skills to acquire either prevention or cure. And not a way of subsistence which afforded isolation either, like we elves could. We didn’t starve in isolation, but the humans would. Beyond the wall, the same situation held for the peoples of Rabbit’s Home, Cowtown and Tato Streets. Before long, there were minor riots happening. University healers were kidnapped, organized looters raided wealthy merchants in sometimes bloody fights with hired guards. I believe you’ve heard of this too? And about The Day of War?”

“The Day of Waaar...” Evenin took a second to try and remember, but her mind only conjured a vague memory. “I recall something. But please, do remind me.”

The elf nodded. “The Day of War was the largest riot of them all. Actually, it was more like a general uprising. Several smaller simultaneous riots lead into one great riot that spread all over the city, but it was particularly severe in the inner city. Here, smaller groups from Southwall, and Old Ermos Town, organized with a large amount of people from The Raven’s Slum. We call it The Day of War because in practice” he looked down at the dwarf at the center of the room while preparing to weigh his words, “the city was in a state of civil war.” He looked up at Evenin again. “Even though it only lasted for a day and a half, it was brutal. Ermos had to assemble its armies to push the rebels back, and over 1000 people died in the street fighting. Now, that is originally why we made S.H.A.M., Mother of The City, it was created as a direct response to the unrest brought about by our lack of response to the plague. We promised to make healing magic and techniques publicly available. Now, today, S.H.A.M. has volunteers from all over the city. Even from the students of the valuable healing arts at the university. It’s an organization we operate in 3 different locations, spread about the metropolis. At every location, we provide a collection of buildings belonging to the city. This includes facilities and furniture inside the buildings.” He stopped to clear his throat. “One such location lies to the south in The Raven’s Slum. Another, driven mostly by us green-elves of The Great Trees, lie between The City Forest and the southern highway, in The Green Streets. Lastly, there’s a collection of buildings which was built only 11 years ago, and are located to the south-west, near that latest appendage to our city: The Wolf’s Slum. Besides the facilities and furniture of these buildings, including operating rooms, sick beds and lecture halls, which are used for public health awareness, we also provide S.H.A.M. and their volunteers with some regular basic healthcare supplies too. Now, this last item I mention, this quite small but crucial expense, is mainly what Chief Stoneheart is referring to, when he talks about the city spending money. Everything else is volunteers using tools and furniture already paid for, and the salaries of a single human administrator and her secretary, tasked with leading the organization.” The elf looked around, before landing his eyes at Lord Veron. “That concludes my explanation.” The elf man sat down.

Lord Veron stood up. “Were there any more questions from the audience?” The lord looked around. He fixed on Evenin for a second, but she just nodded back for him to continue. The lord looked around again, “what about any comments? Before we go towards a vote on the reform? The issue of The Trans-Melrum Ironhorse will of course have to be debated back in The Young Mountains, before we can table it for a vote here.”

A few commenters stood up over time from their seats. Each one rising as the commenter before them concluded their speech. Evenin noted during this period that there was great enthusiasm for The Trans-Melrum Ironhorse project. But for the reform itself, they only discuss it as a sidenote. There’s hardly any interest here in the reform itself, or the S.H.A.M. organization... Interesting to know. The merchant representatives were the most enthusiastic. They hailed Chief Stoneheart and The Steaming Neigh Corporation alike as “visionary heroes of Ermos!” A human woman reiterated some of the points that’d been mentioned by the representative from The Great Trees, but fell short in rhetorical skills, and was mostly ignored. Another dwarf, breaking with the united image of The Little Mountain representatives, warned of the possibility of a return to social unrest if “the poor cannot get the healthcare they require.” However, the dwarf soon faced a trio of commenters after him, each taking their opportunity to speak of the dwarven representative as, in the first instance: “a stiffler of advancement”, then in the second, “a man of exaggeration”, and lastly, as “someone who does not understand that we have learned our lesson, the next time the dungeon lords strike, we will know, and we will be ready!” In the end, this debate is turning into little else than general praise for that ironhorse project. Very telling one must think, Evenin noted.

When the votes eventually came, a strong majority was counted. “1 absent, 17 absteining” Lord Veron announced, “21 against, and 52 in favor. The Council of Ermos has voted in favor of reforming our S.H.A.M. organization!” The final announcement was met with an excited and enthusiastic roar of applause, with smiles erupting almost all around the room. However, Evenin looked around to note just who wasn’t joining in the cheers. Only 2 green-elves politely clapping without smiles. No wild-gnomes. She looked around further. About 10 humans and 1 urban elf aren’t joining. That dwarf from before isn’t, and yes, another dwarf beside him. That other abstained earlier, didn’t she? Evenin rested her gaze upon the other dwarf woman, who must’ve been at least 50 years younger than herself, making her only about 100 years old, if Evenin guessed right. Which means she’s only about as old as Ermos City. She would’ve been just a little girl when the dwarves of The Three Brothers Mountains started to seek refuge in The Little Mountain.

As the cheering started to reside, Lord Veron reached out to speak again: “I now announce the start of our lunch break. The Council of Ermos will reconvene in 90 minutes to discuss the last 2 items on the agenda for today, which will cover recent security issues.” As soon as the lord had said the word “lunch”, dozens of dwarves and humans, in particular, were already starting to move out of their seats. And by the end of the lord’s announcement, there was already a general murmur of hungry politicians filing out of The Yellow Chambers.

Evenin herself ate lunch with the lord at an isolated balcony on The Yellow Chambers building. A trio of mecha-gnomes had managed to get themselves invited to her dining. So of course she brought Snowman with her, to keep them well-mannered. While they ate some of the finest steak and potatoes Evenin had ever had, the huge Snowman took up about half of the balcony at their opposite end, where he enjoyed a large bucket of imported reindeer meat.

“Would you not agree” one of the mecha-gnomes offered about half-way into their lunch break, “that the display you just witnessed, was a strong message of support in Ermos for our project.”

Evenin chewed on a fried potato, thinking over the gnome’s statement. Swallowing, she brought a napkin to her face. “I think it was a moderately strong message. It was not quite unanimous, as you know, and it was not quite a direct show of support for your project, even though it certainly comes close to being one. It will, at least, be in my report.” She smiled diplomatically at the gnome. The gnome managed to refrain from frowning, and instead continued on with a fake smile until the meals’ end.

Evenin and the others returned to The Yellow Chambers, where Lord Veron announced the beginning of their second, and last, session of the day. “Our next item on the agenda for today has actually been requested by our esteemed envoy.” The man gestured at Evenin. “She has asked for a statement on the security situation in Ermos, in light of the recent events that occured near The Iron City. This was the incident at the gnomish underground complex, known as Gnomiture, an establishment owned and operated by the witch Shoss. The one who is referred to by the commoners of The Iron City as Miss Boss. Now, given the history of Shoss as a former dungeon lord, and given the extent of the subsequent battle there, which could be felt all the way into Southwall, as I’m sure many of you here witnessed, the envoy has asked for this statement to be given and commented on here in The Yellow Chambers. And, the representatives gathered here from The Iron City have been briefed of this request, so” the lord turned to the gnomes, “have you brought someone to give a statement?”

A mecha-gnome stood up. “Yes we have, Lord Veron.”

The mecha-gnome presented a man, slightly tall for a mecha-gnome, with that standard brown short-cut hair, and a dark grey cape. His shirt was white, and his fingers carried 2 expensive rings, probably enchanted, Evenin guessed. The gnome had a very commanding thick moustache to his face, and a short silver sabre at his belt, attached to some white-blueish thick linen pants.

“General Toyar Smokescreen” one of The Iron City representatives announced, “I believe the Mother of The City is acquainted with him.” The general walked onto the stage. “For those who are not, this is the highest commanding officer of our armed forces, The Mecha-Force.” The gnome who’d spoken up sat back down in his seat.

“You may deliver your statement” Lord Veron told the general.

Giving a firm nod back, the man in The Yellow Chamber’s midst briefly looked around with his eyes, before locking on to Evenin. “Our intelligence informs us that a mage, presumably a saboteur sent from the dungeon lords, managed to infiltrate the venue 7 days ago. The mage, a human male, is known and has been observed, by witnesses, to have planted magic in the enchanted installations there, who then started to malfunction, and soon escalated with a widespread chaos that cost the business greatly. The installations later attacked the gnomes operating the complex, using iron golems, and visiting customers were forced out. Following this attack, we came into contact with Shoss, and she asked us intervene in the events at Gnomiture. Unfortunately, our first attempt at taking back control of the venue, concluded with an embarassing defeat.” The gnome retained a steel mask at Evenin as he admitted this fact. “Shoss then decided to act on her own, and, as she has explained in an interview with me: detonated a powerful spell inside her underground complex, which cleared the way for us to then retake the premises, and restore order.”

Evenin raised her hand soon after the sentence finished. Lord Veron noticed, and he stood up. He gestured a hand at her. “Please, Evenin, you have a question?”

She rose too, and looked at the lord. “More like an inquiring reply, Lord Veron.” She shifted her eyes to the general. “Because as far as I can tell, you did not manage to restore order permanently, from that point. Could you elaborate on the events that followed?”

The general took a visible deep breath, the faint trace of a sigh escaping before his reply. “Yes, of course envoy.” He paused for several seconds, eyes lost in nothingness as if trying to figure out how to construct his reply. The old dwarf woman sat down, and wondered at the senior officer. What a drastic change of appearance general, to your prior attitude of military discipline and efficiency. She eyed the man, as he found his words. “The intelligence we’ve gathered from the events that followed are mostly from interviews with our own gnome soldiers, who were traumatized by magic. A few curious observations have also been gathered from around the city, but none that are much of a lead, unfortunately.” He paused again, and squeezed his lips together inwardly, as if deeply preferring he could’ve stayed silent, yet knowing he had to continue. “There” he continued, speaking carefully, “was an attack on our night guards 2 days ago. Accounts paint a picture of a powerful mage. We’ve speculated that it is the same mage, returned, but so far are unable to verify. This second mage has been described as covered in black, including black clothes, black skin and a black beard, and he’s a shapeshifter, capable of turning into the semblance of a bear. Actually, 2 kinds of bears if the stories hold. All our witnesses except 1 were under a spell when they observed the transformation, and the 1 not under a spell, soon fell under one. We must therefore consider the possibility that their minds were tampered with.” He swallowed his own spit briefly. “The mage managed to disable several platoons, including one of our finer mages, and he’s known to have left the building stealing several installations. That is what happened after, envoy.”

The Yellow Chambers grew quiet for a bit. Then Evenin raised her hand again. Lord Veron gestured for her to speak, and she stood up again.

“I’m curious, in what way did the magic tamper with your soldiers minds, general?” She sat down.

The general could not mask his sigh now, but looked into the ground with some visible exasperation. “The nature of the magic was such that it changed the personality of my soldiers.” And the general stopped there.

When several seconds passed by without any more words from the general, only his firm stare pointed directly at Evenin, she decided to press the matter: “Could you elaborate?”

Another sigh escaped. “My soldiers report the mage yelling the words gay aura, before they started to feel an inclination towards un-gnomely behaviours, unbefitting of any member of The Iron City.” The general quieted again.

Lord Veron looked over at Evenin. “Do you wish for him to elaborate further, envoy?”

“Please.” Evenin didn’t bother standing this time.

The general closed his eyes for a second as if personally embarrassed, and apparently trying hard to weather his circumstances with stoicism. “The mage’s magic caused our gnome soldiers to undress, shame their capes with criticism, and, apparently, though it’s sort-of difficult to imagine, also launch a multi-platoon-wide music jam with improvised instruments.”

The lord looked at Evenin.

“Please go on.” Evenin responded, not needing to be asked directly. “What kind of improvised instruments?”

“They assembled pieces of instrument from their weapons, the building, the installations, and uuhhh...” he paused for a moment, sighed and failed to fully contain a roll of his eyes, “... their own body parts.”

The lord eyed Evenin again, who managed to completely suppress an impulse to smile. She shook her head declining, her curiosity as a diplomat having been satisfied. There was a weak murmur among the audience, particularly among the mecha-gnomes, some of whom looked shocked, sitting there with gaping mouths and wide eyes. They must not have heard the story before, Evenin surmised, thanking her strength of will that she’d not smiled at the mental imagery. Can’t have another outburst like at Flip, that was a moment too embarassing for my position.

Lord Veron rose. “Does that conclude all of your statement, General Smokescreen?”

“Yes!” The little man replied, loud and immediate, as if speaking to a higher officer.

“Then you can go.” The general left, relief and shame, both visible on his face, as he walked back to his seat among the mecha-gnome representatives. “We are now open to questions and comments regarding this statement. Anyone, please raise your hand.”

A mecha-gnome, a dwarf, and a human soon raised theirs in succession. Of these, the first person to take the stage only spoke about how “horrible” and how “awful” the attack of the mage had been. Of course a mecha-gnome would say that. Give me the next person. Evenin watched the gnome with the dead expression of someone merely in the same chamber as him, her mind utterly bored. The next person was the dwarf. He offered a statement of support to his “friends in The Iron City.” And, continuing, proclaimed that: “if the gnomes wish support in investigating or posting guard, just ask, and your friends in The Little Mountain will come to aid. And besides friendship, we should all recognize that this sabotage, is an attack on us all. A strike against one of the factions of Ermos, is a strike against all! Who will be next? Let’s hope noone!” Lastly, the human, a woman this time, took to the stage. “But why was Gnomiture attacked?” She opened with confused and almost agitated look. “Is this a revenge attack on Shoss for betraying the other dungeon lords? And if so, should we consider it possible that Shoss has become a liability for the alliance? How could the dungeon lords penetrate so deeply into our city, after all. That is quite the serious situation. Could it even be that she is an accomplice? That this was a staged crime?”

At that point a murmur began in the crowd, and one gnome woman stood up to reply, after getting a nod to go ahead from Lord Veron. “Shoss has proven herself to the mecha-gnomes from since before The Iron City was established. She’s been a loyal ally to her mecha-gnome kind ever since The Fall of The Great System. But not only that, you should all recall that her betrayal of the dungeon lords likely saved our kind from near-total genocide. Without her bravery at the last moment, there would not have been any Iron City to speak of. Only our kin, scattered and destitute. With such a debt to our survival, there can be no doubting her further loyalty.”

The defence of Shoss had a lasting effect on the debate, which then progressed away from Shoss, and over to whether anything could be done to mitigate infiltrations in the city.

“We should set up a border check.” A minor human lord told the crowd. “Any who wishes to pass into the city via the southern or nothern highways must be checked. Any who wishes to pass further into the city, within the city walls, must be checked again. The racial quarters should establish their own border checks: one for The City Forest, one for The Iron City, and one for The Little Mountain.”

“I’m against border checks!” A female dwarf announced upon it being her turn to speak. Evenin recognized her as the leader of The Witcavern Clan. Richest and most thrifty of the dwarves in the west. No wonder you’d object. “The roads will be clogged.” The clan leader explained, annoyance clear on her face. “We can barely handle the traffic on busy days as it is. Border checks will create queues stretching kilometers, and would paralyze the industry and trade. We’d hurt ourselves more than the dungeon lords could hurt us.”

“The people would hate it!” Another dwarf added just after, when it became his turn. Evenin knew this dwarf also. Representative of The Ermos Mining Union. You don’t want your supply routes to The Little Mountain checked, I assume. “They’d riot in the streets if we made them spend hours in the day getting in and out. Like the clan leader says, it would be a mess.”

After a few rounds of back and forth between those for and those against border checks, it became evident that resistence to the subject was shared widely among most people, only some humans and urban elves really supported the idea. The debate had more less ended with no satisfactory answers when Evenin decided to ask for the word. She stood up as a slightly tired Lord Veron gestured for her to go. “The Young Mountains have entrusted me” her eyes panned the individuals of the crowd, “to gather information on the state of security in Ermos.” At this, all eyes started paying attention to her, even though some were a little tired like Lord Veron. “For the last few days, I have been doing that, among other things. Only 2 days ago, I consulted a great many people on the security situation here. It’s been 9 years since the last major dungeon lord incidence within the city. But at that time, it was the conclusion of years of deep penetration attacks into this land, that only ended when The Mecha-Gnomes’ Revenge, destroyed The Booran Dungeon, with their twice-annual Great Zerg. It was only chance, though, that they later discovered, that it was this dungeon which had been spearheading the majority of attacks. Should Ermos rely on such luck in the future?” Evenin looked about her audience following the mostly rhetorical question. “Speaking of this guild, I have also gathered information that The Mecha-Gnomes’ Revenge was infiltrated recently, and that one of their employees suffered an unknown mind-control spell. As representative of the interests of the dwarven states, of our enormous investments into your city and region, I ask that you will take measures to increase internal security, that such a turbulent period which I’ve mentioned does not occur again. That the current situation ends here and now, as soon as possible, without further incidents. That is all I have to say.” As Evenin sat down, she felt the weight of nearly 100 pairs of eyes on her. Some of them, at least those with pronounced interests, variably feared her. Feared the kinds of impressions they would leave her with, to go and be reported to their country’s most important benefactor. Others were not so worried, but they at least realized there was seriousness in her words, even if her speech had been passionless.

“Thank you” Lord Veron said dryly, standing up. “Any more questions, comments?” Nobody responded. “Very well. Last item on the agenda for today: the ongoing siege of Wintershield Stronghold, which began 7 days ago, and has been challenging the defenders there ever since, if rumors are to be believed. As The Wintershield Stronghold is very much a dependency of The Little Mountain, the dwarves have been asked to provide a statement on the state of the siege. Have you” the lord directed himself towards the dwarven representatives, “found someone to speak on the issue?”

Chief Stoneheart rose from his seat. “We have.” The broad-shouldered man waved forward another female dwarf. As the woman stepped forward, Evenin took note of her outfit. She wore a sparse set of steel armor over wool and leather. In her hands was a slim, but sharp-looking battleaxe. “Iti Stoneheart“ the chief announced, “recently returned from the front during a relief operation.” As the warrior stepped onto the stage and positioned herself in the middle, Evenin could see a deeply tired expression on her face. Her right forearm had a bandaged wound also, with red moisture showing through the healing cloth. Standing there, the dwarf woman leaned on her battleaxe with both hands, almost as if it was a cane.

“Your statement” Lord Veron spoke from his standing position at his seat. “Please, tell us what’s happening there.” The human sat down, and everyone waited for the dwarf woman to speak. That’s a young dwarf, Evenin thought as the seconds passed, can’t be older than 40 at most. Even with her tiredness aging her looks, this is evidently not a fully mature warrior.

The young dwarf woman in question took her time, looking into the crowd of seated with her tired eyes, building suspense with her slow response. “We’re holding” she spoke eventually, then went silent for another 3 seconds. “It’s tough. Wintershield has been getting fewer volunteers lately. Or maybe it’s just that we’ve not been getting as many as we need. I’m not sure which it is, but it feels like we’re fewer than we should be. The day before I was relieved, 2 days ago, I killed, injured, way over 40 goblins, with my own weapon, holding a tower, with just 2 other dwarves to help me. Or it would’ve been 3, but the 3rd died early in the morning when they attacked, so he wasn’t much help that day.” She took a pause to look into nowhere, and swallowed her own spit. An action that, by the sound it made and the look of her doing it, made her mouth appear dry. She’s dehydrated? Evenin thought, but the dwarf continued. “Before yesterday, when I was relieved, I’d been fighting for 6 days straight. They attack around the clock. It’s not always frontal assaults. They come with rocks hurled from the sky, arrows, hundreds of arrows at a time, bolts, slingshots, magic, oh magic is the worst. They burn us alive in our armor if we don’t have any protection. Luckily most of us do, because most of us are sponsored. 3 times they’ve sent storms our way, with lightning strikes, blizzards of icy snow.” She paused for a couple of seconds, her eyes reminiscent. “When they get close, there’s also javelins. But when they get close, when the frontal assaults happen, they are many. They attack quickly, while most of us sleep. Somehow they know when most of us sleep. Then they scale the walls, run into the barricades, try to get inside the towers. It all happens very quickly.” She brought a hand to her nose and sniffed. She wasn’t crying, be she did look a little sick, as if bearing the toll of all that she’d been through. Her face was one of relived trauma. Eyes stared intensely into nowhere, while she continued her account. “138 warriors were present when I left. Including the 50 dwarves stationed permanently, 69 sponsored dwarves, and 4 parties of 19 guild warriors. Since the siege started, we’ve lost over 40 dwarves. Actually, I don’t remember exactly. But it was over 40, I’m sure. At this rate, anyways, we’re losing warriors faster than we can replenish them. We’ve only received some 30 warriors to our numbers since the siege began, and that includes those who relieved me and 5 of my fellow warriors, to come back.” Another pause, as she looked around for a bit, appearing unsure, or too tired to know, about what to say next. The pause lasted long enough that Lord Veron was about to stand up to intervene, when suddenly she continued. “Give us a handful of descent mages, and at least 100 seasoned warriors to join the defense, and I believe we can break the siege, and almost no more people will die at Wintershield. All I can say, is that: what’s happening now, won’t last” she shook her head with the words. “We won’t last, if the dungeon lords have more to throw at us. And I know they do. We’ve spotted forces they’ve yet to commit. Dozens of human dungeon knights, much tougher than goblins, and half a dozen great fire elementals. They’re also building 4 more trebuchets after we destroyed 2 of them a couple of days ago. Aid us, everyone, we need it, before Wintershield, the last dwarven stronghold in The Three Brothers Mountains, is ground down to dust.” Another longer silence.

Eventually, Lord Veron realized it was not just a break between words this time, and, carefully, he started to stand up. “Thank you, Iti, of the Stoneheart clan. An insightful report. Now: questions and comments from the present representatives?” He looked about the chamber.

Evenin raised her hand.

“Please, envoy.” The lord gestured towards her, and sat down.

“An insightful report indeed, Iti.” Evenin nodded. “May I ask, how many of the fallen warriors have been those permanently stationed?”

The warrior looked to be thinking, “eeeh” she responded quietly. “I don’t know” she produced, an answer both calm and honest.

“Can you guess?” Evenin pressed.

“Ehm...” The dwarf warrior thought with her face some more. “More than half, I think. Likely a bit more than half. Maybe 25, or more”

Evenin nodded. “So it looks like the permanent station of warriors at Wintershield is being depleted. Which means that if the sponsored presence was to drop, as they can, the stronghold would soon be understaffed. Do I understand the situation correct?”

“Yeeeaaah” the warrior said in half-thought, half-answer. “Well, they’ll have to find recruits willing to commit their lives to living there, at the stronghold, and defend it, for the rest of their lives. Or until they retire. Not many dwarves want to leave the comfort of the city to resettle in The Three Brothers Mountains as it is. It’s just death there, constantly. And when it’s not, it’s very boring, compared to the city. I’ve been there for a year now, and while I cherish fulfilling my duty to my homeland – I really do, I’m proud of it – it is not something I could live with forever. It’s nothing to do there but to fight and survive. It’s amazing that some dwarves can even live like that. But those folk are rare.”

Evenin stared at the warrior as the latter got silent. Everyone stared really. Lord Veron shifted his eyes back and forth between Evenin and the warrior. “So” Evenin eventually broke the silence, “The Wintershield Stronghold is dying out. I see. I understand.” She sat down.

Lord Veron stood up, just as the beginnings of a murmur began. “Any more questions? Comments?”

And then followed a discussion, which soon became like a war of words.