Valkyrie's Shadow

Winter's Crown: Act 8, Chapter 13

Winter's Crown: Act 8, Chapter 13

Chapter 13

“You were really packing it in there.”

“P-packing it in?”

Ilyshn’ish’s hand went to her Infinite Haversack. She did not recall adding anything new to it in the past day or so.

“Uh, yeah,” the Dwarf said as he nursed his ale. “The dishes we sent over during the recess yesterday…or was it two days ago? Anyways, it was a lot. You must’ve eaten enough for three whole mining crews.”

“Ah, yes,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “I hadn’t had anything for over a week, so I must have worked up quite the appetite.”

The mug of ale stopped just before it touched the Dwarf’s lips, and he gave her a strange look.

Ilyshn’ish and the Dwarf – a young representative from the Merchant Guild, who went by the name of Khardir Silvershield – were seated at a marble table in the Diamond Plate, one of the dining establishments in the Palace Quarter. Four days had passed since her arrival in Feoh Berkana, and the war council was on a long recess after completing the conquest of the three Frost Giant citadels to the north of the Dwarf Kingdom.

Time was required to clean up the aftermath and reorganize their forces, so Lord Cocytus had declared the one day break before he and his vassals returned to the Sorcerous Kingdom to attend to some business there. Ilyshn’ish had opted to stay in the Dwarf Capital, as she wanted to experience the changes in the city firsthand. On her way out, Khardir had tentatively approached her and offered a tour of the city.

After he had shown her around the Palace Quarter, they stopped at the Diamond Plate, which was situated on the main promenade. Though it was one of the only restaurants open in the Quarter, only a third of the tables were occupied. Her gaze drifted over the members of the city’s upper crust, Dwarven aristocrats, diplomats, and well-to-do merchants who were gathered in meetings of their own.

The exquisite garb of the clientele, combined with the rich furnishings and smartly dressed staff, gave the place a refined air that would have probably acted as a barrier against any of the citizens who did not fit in. Ilyshn’ish had only been to such an establishment once – the Shining Golden Pavilion in E-Rantel – after a Human merchant, who had approached her as she was wandering around, begged to make her acquaintance. It was her first taste of what Humans considered the pinnacle of fine dining.

Being as sparse and incomprehensible as the flustered merchant’s attempts to befriend her, she did not find it very pleasant. Though it was at the man’s expense, the price of the meal destroyed any enjoyment she might have had in the experience. They may as well have just gone to a farm to purchase a herd of livestock, which would have been far more satisfying.

If she were to compare the Diamond Plate to the Shining Golden Pavilion, the Dwarven establishment was clearly superior. The craftsmanship of the building and its contents could not even be placed in the same realm as its counterpart in E-Rantel, and it had a far greater sense of history to it. It was also cheaper and the portions did not look like they were meant to feed a mouse.

A stout waitress dropped off another platter of cold meats, and Khardir could only shake his head.

“It’s funny,” he said. “I always thought Elves weren’t much for meat.”

“Even Snow Elves?”

“Well…I’ve never known of Snow Elves before, but I guess that does make sense. Nothing grows if you live in a frozen place.”

Ilyshn’ish nodded silently as she took a slice of cured Nuk and stuffed it into her mouth. Khardir quaffed his ale, looking around surreptitiously before leaning forward.

“I hope you’ll forgive me for asking, Dame Verilyn,” he said in a low voice, “but what sort of work do you do for the Sorcerous Kingdom?”

“Is that the reason why you approached me?” Ilyshn’ish asked, “To find out who I am?”

“Er, no – it’s more that we line up better.”

Ilyshn’ish frowned at yet another strange phrase.

“Line up better?”

“Yeah,” Khardir nodded. “If you look at things from a rank perspective, a Knight is about where a deputy like myself is. We’re at the same social level, so to speak. That being the case, we can speak without needing to resort to stiff formalities. It’s more relaxing like that. Also, you’re by far the most approachable out of your delegation…uh, no slight intended to the others.”

“I see,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “In that case, hm…I’ve been granted a Knighthood recently so not much is going on there yet. As for the rest, I work for the Ministry of Transportation.”

“The Ministry of Transportation?” Khardir frowned in thought, then swallowed, “You mean you work under that Vampire – ahem, Minister Bloodfallen. But how did you end up on the war council?”

“The Ministry of Transportation has been assisting the Dwarves ever since opening diplomatic relations with the Sorcerous Kingdom, yes? We’ve had far more time to investigate the area than they have.”

“I see,” Khardir said. “So your job was to…investigate the region?”

“My job is to investigate any region that the Ministry of Transportation desires information about,” Ilyshn’ish told him. “Logistics, trade, peoples, laws and customs – all sorts of things. If required, I can also…deliver valuable articles quickly and securely from place to place.”

Khardir nodded slowly at her words, but each nod came more slowly than the one before it. At the same time, a furrow deepened over his bushy black brow.

“When I’m done here,” Ilyshn’ish continued, “I’ll be preparing for some work in the east.”

“The east?”

“Yes, the Baharuth Empire. I’ll be investigating various locations to discern whether the transportation network can profit there.”

Khardir’s expression suddenly reset itself, and he almost looked relieved.

“Is something the matter?”

“Ah, no,” the Dwarf muttered into his beard. “I was just thinking in the wrong direction. For a moment there I thought you were a…a…”

“A spy?”

A short laugh broke through the dull murmur of their surroundings. Khardir straightened in his seat, chuckling nervously as he looked around.

“A…no! No, no, I didn’t think…” He sighed as she held his gaze, “Yes, that’s what I thought.”

“It sounds quite similar, doesn’t it?” Ilyshn’ish said lightly, “You’re not the first to think such a thing.”

“You’re being quite gracious,” Khardir seemed to relax a bit. “Most officials don’t take well to being called spies.”

“Is that so?” Ilyshn’ish stabbed her fork into another piece of meat, “Then what shall I do with you?”

Khardir leaned back, holding out his hands disarmingly.

“Erm, nothing please,” he said. “To be honest, the Regency Council’s still on edge when it comes to the Sorcerous Kingdom. The people have been preoccupied with everything that’s happened, but I think they might start worrying too when things start to settle down. When you showed up and started laying out all that information on the map, I couldn’t help but wonder how much you knew about our little corner of the world.”

“You understand that the former inhabitants of this city are now subjects of the Sorcerous Kingdom, yes?”

“The former…” Khardir turned his gaze up at the ceiling, “Oh, you mean those Frost Dragons. You’re saying that this information is from them?”

“Could you imagine someone walking all over the Azerlisia Mountains to learn all of that?”

“Heh, I guess not. The Dragons would have a bird’s eye view on everything, so that would explain a lot.”

Silly Dwarf. Dragons had much better than a bird’s eye view: they had a Dragon’s eye view.

“You mentioned something about your people having problems with the Sorcerous Kingdom eventually,” Ilyshn’ish noted. “Why is that?”

“I didn’t say that we’d have problems with the Sorcerous Kingdom,” Khardir said defensively. “It’s just the whole…you know, the Undead. They keep trying to market Undead labour to us, and I hear that the Master of Mines and Caves caved in. Supposedly there’s a whole team of Skeleton labourers being tested out in Feoh Jura right now.”

“This sounds exactly the opposite of your worries if your people have started to adopt Undead labour.”

“Kinda,” Khardir said. “But you know how it is – especially for people like us. Even when you think things are going well, you have to take a look at your situation from different angles. Aside from the fact that they’re, well, Undead, using them for labour has benefits and detriments.”

Khardir emptied his mug and set it on the side of the table. Within a dozen seconds, the waitress quietly came by to replace it with another foam-topped tankard. He nodded at her in thanks, then returned to the topic at hand.

“I can see how attractive it is for the Master of Mines and Caves: the lease is cheap, they don’t ever tire, and the work itself is dangerous. Old tunnels filled with hazards like gas pockets and flooded sections aren’t a problem for a Skeleton, and losing them to a collapse or a monster is better than losing lives.”

“And the detriments?”

“Well, there’s one big one, and that’s us becoming dependent on the Sorcerous Kingdom for labour. If we fully adopt the use of Undead labour, then we’ll expand operations until it’s no longer viable. In a generation, our demographics will be different: the people will react accordingly to the shift in demand for labour and the increased supply of ore. At that point, the Sorcerous Kingdom can hold us hostage by threatening to withdraw the Undead – or worse, they can attack us with our Undead labourers.”

As he spoke, Ilyshn’ish could sense many of the other Dwarves nearby turning their attention towards them. She wondered if it was appropriate for him to be speaking of the matter in public.

“Was this something you came up with?” Ilyshn’ish asked.

“I think most of us in the Merchant Guild can see it,” Khardir answered. “The Commander-in-Chief still has stars in his eyes after the whole thing with the Quagoa and the Frost Dragons, but I know a few people in his staff that understand the problem as well.”

“And how is this different from trade? At least, I feel that it is no different. The Sorcerous Kingdom ships great quantities of produce to your nation. Is it not the same problem if these imports of food abruptly cease?”

“…if it happened right at this very moment, yes,” Khardir replied. “But the produce we grow here hasn’t been affected aside from the greens that we cultivate down at the bottom of the mountain valleys. With the Quagoa no longer a threat, those farmers have moved underground to raise mushrooms. The price of mushrooms and mushroom ale in the Dwarf Kingdom have dropped as a result of the cheap imports of grain and liquor from the Sorcerous Kingdom, but the Sorcerous Kingdom doesn’t grow mushrooms. All our mushroom farmers have to do is export their produce. It’s actually better this way since mushrooms are more expensive than grain, creating a trade surplus. If food imports stop, then our food exports stop and we can still eat.”

Khardir took a long draught from his fresh tankard, and Ilyshn’ish wished she hadn’t asked that particular question. Her head spun from his explanation. Several of the Dwarves around the room nodded in agreement with Khardir’s reasoning, so Ilyshn’ish decided to approach his concerns from a different angle.

“Fair enough,” she said, “but I still believe you are overthinking the issue with the Skeleton labour.”

“How so?”

“To be blunt, the Sorcerous Kingdom is so powerful that it has absolutely no need for the methods you describe. This sort of scheme requires more effort than simply sending a single, powerful servitor to wipe out your entire nation. Since they have not done that, wouldn’t it be more likely that they are acting in good faith?”

“We understand that,” Khardir wiped the foam from his beard, “but it doesn’t stop us from thinking and worrying.”

“Then I would advise you to stop thinking and worrying,” Ilyshn’ish told him. “It is a pointless expenditure of your time and energy.”

“You make it sound as if we can’t do anything.”

“That’s right,” Ilyshn’ish said. “You cannot do anything, should the Sorcerous Kingdom decide to do something. It is the way of things, is it not? When the Demon Gods came and ruined the lands all around the Azerlisia Mountains; when the Quagoa rose to power; when the Frost Dragons destroyed Feoh Teiwaz and occupied Feoh Berkana. Your history is filled with events that you could do nothing about. Well, except flee, but I don’t think any of your people currently have any desire to do that.”

Khardir let out a long sigh, unable or unwilling to refute her. Ilyshn’ish couldn’t understand why mortals so often thought about such useless things. Even Dragons did not embark on such ridiculous flights of fancy if they were aware of the superior nature of an adversary. There were plenty of other things to do.

“Ah~ ye’ve gone and killed the mood.”

Ilyshn’ish and Khardir turned their heads to the waitress that walked out into the silence that had fallen over the room. Khardir put on an apologetic look.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “Didn’t think it’d go in that direction.”

“Well next time keep that talk inside the palace,” the waitress huffed.

Khardir reached down to his belt, producing three gold coins from his pouch.

“See if some drinks’ll help pick things up again,” he placed the coins on the edge of their table.

“Next time, I’ll be expecting nothing less than the Stone Princess.”

Khardir snorted.

“I think the Dame here would have better luck finding her than me.”

The waitress swept the coins off of the table. Dwarves being Dwarves, the atmosphere turned light again at the idea of free drinks. Ilyshn’ish turned her attention back to Khardir again.

“What’s the Stone Princess?”

“That’s, uh…well, it’s a rumour, I guess,” Khardir told her. “Dwarves who’ve gone down to E-Rantel say that there’s a Dwarf Bard that appears to perform in one of the taverns there. Hm…the Frosty Beard, I think that was the name of the place. ”

“A Dwarf Bard…”

“Hey now,” Khardir shot her a look, “we Dwarves have our own Bards, you know. Anyways, the thing is that she seems to know more about us than we do – histories; tales; old songs that’ve been forgotten by our people today. People working in the merchant caravans clamour to make the trip just for the chance to listen to her perform. Strangely, no one knows who she is – not even the tavern owner.”

“I see,” Ilyshn’ish frowned. “But why the ‘Stone Princess’?”

“One of the diplomats that went down there came up with it,” Khardir explained. “You see, our last King had a daughter, but she was tragically lost when Feoh Berkana fell. The Princess was renowned for her beauty and nobility, plus she was a talented Bard. Everyone that’s seen the busts and paintings in the Royal Palace swears that this Bard that’s appeared in E-Rantel looks just like her…”