“What does it actually mean, for Sandelabara—or whatever the hell this energy is—to be below Vysenn?” Argrave asked the Alchemist. They had once again returned to Therapont’s residence, but rather than remain within the cramped room that they had slept, they instead occupied one of the open mushroom gardens in the estate. No sound escaped the ward surrounding them.
The Alchemist gazed out across organized plots of luminous shrooms as a mouth on the back of his head explained, “I can vaguely map what exists beneath the earth with elemental earth magic. With it, I deduced that this energy persists in a chamber deep within a huge sea of magma. It is a giant pocket of superheated metals, of which thin tendrils push against the crust of the earth, rising upward toward Vysenn. In time I suspect it will breach the surface, bathing it in lava.”
Argrave considered this in silence, and Melanie stared at him as though she expected an answer. Vysenn in Heroes of Berendar erupted the very day the calamity set foot on the earth. This was a geological event—even if there were suspicions that Gerechtigkeit had caused it, there was nothing that could be done. The tribes of Vysenn that didn’t perish outright were forcibly expelled out of the hilly region. And Gerechtigkeit’s ‘Sandelabara’ was there.
It was some small mercy that their only lead was so close. But the planet’s heat and pressure was something the dwarves had taken decades to tame—and this was with the coordinated effort of their entire nation. Interference beneath the crust of the earth was not something to be taken lightly. The only option that Argrave saw to reach it without intensive digging was heading through the top—namely, through the sacrificial pit that the tribals used to appease their god the volcano. And it was a sacrificial pit for a reason. A thick layer of molten rock greeted anyone unlucky or foolish enough to head inside.
“You said there’s a chamber there.” Argrave started pacing around the garden as he talked. “That means that something managed to persist there. The question is—what can we do to reach it?”
The Alchemist turned away from the mushrooms. “Send word to your sister. Occupy the volcano. Then, convince the dwarves, one way or another, to mobilize all of their artificers to craft something that can either persist in magma, extract it from the earth, or cool and mine it.”
Melanie whistled. “Given how hard it was to get them to agree to an alliance to fight against the guy that wants to kill us all, I can’t imagine you can coax them from their holes all the way to a nearly-active volcano very easily.”
“Thank you for the encouragement,” Argrave glanced at her harshly, and she laughed. “You’re not wrong though. Good lord… talk about a nightmare.”
“I can help.” The Alchemist stepped up to Argrave. “I’ll capture a dwarf alive, disassemble him, and create chimeras using that knowledge. We can use these chimeras to infiltrate their society in vital places, and when the time comes, they’ll be ready. Invasion or diplomacy, they’ll be ready.”
“What?” Argrave felt extreme whiplash, and even though he knew it was pointless he couldn’t help but look around to be sure that none heard. “Invasion? That’s not even on the table.”
“If Gerechtigkeit perishes before more cycles, the number of lives saved is uncountable. A few along the way matters very little in the grand scheme.”
“Let’s do a hypothetical.” Argrave sat on a short railing just beside another garden patch. “Do you think it’d be more prudent to… one, kill and enslave a lot of people, then extract skilled labor from them, or two, convince them peaceably and bring a massive friendly force over to your side?”
The Alchemist did not seem to take kindly to Argrave’s sarcasm. “I believe you are incapable of convincing at least five hundred senators to commit dozens of their best artificers to work on a project in a foreign land of dubious trustworthiness. On top of that, you ask to employ the secret technology that has allowed them to defend from all invaders for countless millennia. In other words, to help would jeopardize their national defense. You lack the resources and the persuasive ability to earn support for a largescale project like this. I don’t think anyone could—not in the time frame we’re seeking.”
Argrave stewed on his words. He doubted he was capable of doing that, either, but he didn’t like to hear that.
As an idea came, Argrave looked up. “How well can your chimeras learn?”
The Alchemist entwined his huge hands. “As well as any human. And they are of one mind.”
“It might not be feasible to get the dwarves to help us with Vysenn… but if we have one of your chimeras infiltrate them, we can learn their methods, apply them on our lonesome. After all, we don’t lack for labor.” Argrave raised his hands up.
“The big man made a good point, though,” Melanie pointed out. “This is their most valued technology. They aren’t just going to let any dwarf work on it. They’ve got a detailed bureaucracy with records of people, names of every citizen, and now more than ever they’ll be on-edge about their secrets. If this mystery dwarf stitched together with string and venison shows up, there’s no way he’ll be able to keep the mask up long enough to become a trusted engineer in one of those pumping stations. How long do we even have? Certainly not long enough to steal this nation’s secrets.”
“Indeed. We lack the time and ability to replicate this genius feat of artificing. How could you persuade the senate? Will you offer them the cities they abandoned? There are hundreds of thousands of people in this city, Mundi, but its founder Alexander built it to accommodate millions. They do not lack for space, for food, for water… they want for nothing, Argrave. The only reason they agreed to help was to preserve their safety.”
Argrave rubbed his lip, lost in thought. “Maybe I can’t persuade five hundred senators… but I think I can persuade a few hundred thousand people.”
“Wow,” Melanie said sarcastically. “Because these dwarves will love a foreigner agitating their people.”
“Hey. Imagine you’ve been locked up for centuries. Wouldn’t you like to outside, go exploring? All I need to do is give them a little push, give that wanderlust the one spark it needs to become a flame. Fuel’s been building up for years down here.” He smiled, standing up off the rail. “I won’t need to be doing any agitation. These people are elected, Melanie. They have to worry about what people say, what people hear. And there’s a convenient little gallery sitting just above our senate meeting, viewing the spectacle that is me and you.”
The Alchemist looked above at the marble dome, where lava surged from pipes down into facilities throughout the city. “Your confidence borders on delusion, sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” Melanie hefted her black sword.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Argrave waved his hand at the two of them. “I’m so confident I’m planning on calling in some cavalry. We’ve earned leeway—now, we get a few more people in.”
“Hiding behind the wife again?” Melanie bantered. Still, she sounded excited. Argrave got the impression she liked Anneliese a good deal.
Argrave was about to answer in the affirmative, but he spotted movement outside the barrier they’d erected for peaceful conversation. With a thought, he undid his ward to allow a messenger to pass by. A servant bid them to join Therapont. He followed, recalling the Alchemist back into his Ravenstone. He and Melanie were led into a room where the dwarven senator stood with several others that Argrave vaguely recognized.
“Good. You’re here,” Therapont waved him in. “I have some very important news. As it turns out, Dario has absolutely coincidentally completed his forging specifications for dwarven metal. He intends to present it to the dwarven senate. In return, he’ll be named our people’s friend, and given the title of Munificent.” He pointed one of his thick fingers at Argrave. “Some people might get cold feet about the alliance. I think we ought to discuss how best we might keep it cohesive. Relations between Vasquer and the senate are, as a point of fact, vitally important. We must preserve them.”
“I’m glad to hear I have your support.” Argrave entered the room, crouching low beneath the doorframe. The dwarven senators that had come to join them looked up at him like he was a strange animal. “You mean to say Dario is actually attending a meeting?”
“So far as we know,” a ruby-wreathed senator confirmed, fixing his white toga.
Argrave’s head worked, confronting holes in this story. Dario ostensibly knew them. They’d come here out of panic, seeking to combat his influence with the method of forging dwarven metal. Now, once they’d arrived, he intended to present a completed version. Was this coincidence, or was Argrave falling into another’s plan?
“It doesn’t seem like this is going to be a timely affair.” Argrave stepped up to the table—for him, it was more like a coffee table.
“Hah. Sometimes I use senate proposals as indicators for ageing my lichenwine,” one of the senators joked. “You should have plenty of time.”
Argrave crouched down before the table, then sat—at the very least, the chairs were wide… if a bit low. “Well then… let’s get ready for Dario. Because I don’t think he’ll come with the recipe for dwarven metal alone. He must have other things in mind.”
It seemed Argrave would finally lay eyes upon the man that had caused him to alter his trajectory so. He almost expected a trap. But would this be a trap of wits, or one of another kind?
#####
Though Argrave had worked out a relatively solid course of action with the aid of Therapont, much of that was tossed to the wind the moment that they arrived to the senate hall about an hour early. The reason? A dwarven messenger, sent to speak to Argrave.
The message was exceedingly simple. “Before the senate meeting, Dario would like to speak to you at the public square before the statue of Alexander.”
