Kingdom of Thearom — The Dwarven Realm
Palace of Truth, Throne Hall
The granite walls of the throne room gleamed with inlaid silver veins, flickering from the brightly lit gems that danced along every pillar. Stained glass windows high above cast crimson, amber, and cobalt shadows across the floor. The air was cool, dry, and heavy with discipline.
A line of armored dwarves stood at attention along both sides of the hall, their shoulders stiff, helms under one arm, axes resting at their hips. At the far end, upon a seven-tiered dais carved from obsidian and gold, sat King Dorgram Ironveil, Lord of Thearom, descendant of the Deep Forge.
The messenger knelt before him, head low, beard trimmed, cloak ragged from travel.
"My King," the dwarf began, voice steady despite the silence around him. "I bring the monthly report on the state of our kingdom… and, afterward, news of our neighbor — Larrak."
Dorgram shifted slightly on his throne. His steel-gray eyes narrowed. He gave no reply — just a quiet nod.
The messenger continued, voice projecting now with more clarity.
"Our economy continues to flourish. Over the past nine years, the standard of living has tripled across all major holds. Grain yields from the Ironroot Valley are up twelve percent this quarter, and the Grand Aqueducts have increased access to clean water by nearly forty percent."
"Civil unrest is nonexistent, and trade routes through the Western Pass remain secure. Merchants report record exports of obsidian tools, refined mithril, and enchanted alloys."
"However…" he paused, "…our arcane development has slowed."
Now the king's brows lifted slightly.
The messenger went on.
"The Council of Runes believes we have reached the limits of new enchantment discovery — but progress is being made in refining existing tools. Mana crystal efficiency has increased by twenty-one percent. Our rune hammers now last twice as long before requiring re-inscription. Golem cores operate smoother, with reduced burnout rates."
"The Forge-Wardens of Khadek report that lightning conductors in the storm mines now reach deeper ore veins than ever before. We've also increased the number of golem-pilots in the eastern excavation teams."
"As for military strength…" he shifted a scroll forward. "…our standing army remains well-fed and well-equipped. Conscriptions are steady, recruitment morale is high. Wyvern rider training continues as scheduled — the Drakenhallow stables have bred twelve new hatchlings this spring."
The king raised a finger. The messenger paused. Then, slowly, Dorgram spoke:
"And what of our neighbors… the Larrakians?"
The messenger cleared his throat.
"That, my king, is where the news turns strange."
He unrolled a second scroll.
"The King of Larrak has fled his palace. We suspect — though it is not confirmed — that he did so to avoid a noble rebellion. What is clear is that his absence has shattered central authority."
He looked up.
"Our spies estimate that more than thirty percent of Larrak's territory is now under the control of humans."
Murmurs rippled through the guards.
Dorgram leaned forward, silent.
"We believe a full-blown human uprising is underway," the messenger continued. "And they are not fighting with swords or bows. Our scouts report loud bursts of fire. Screams carried on thunder. Iron rods that kill from far away. Tools that explode. Weapons we've never seen before."
"Magic?" Dorgram finally asked.
"That is what they call it, my lord… but not magic as we know it. It is fast. Crude. Loud. Deadly. Entire battalions have fallen against what appear to be handfuls of these human rebels."
The king grunted.
"Impossible. Humans cannot wield magic."
"Perhaps not… but someone is aiding them. That is our concern."
"The elves." Dorgram's voice dropped to a growl.
"Possibly," the messenger replied carefully. "But we've seen no elven runes. No summoned creatures. No wards. And why would the elves give these weapons to humans — weapons they themselves did not use against the beasts in the Forbidden Lands?"
Dorgram sat in heavy silence.
Then he barked a name.
Orders Given
"Finidel."
A dark-cloaked dwarf stepped forward from the shadows behind the throne. His gait was silent. His eyes were sharp.
He knelt.
"Your Majesty."
"Expand our spy network. I want eyes in the eastern woods. I want ears in the human camps. Find out if the elves are involved. If they aren't…" he clenched a fist, "…then I want every scrap of information on these so-called 'magic weapons.' Where they're made. Who makes them. How far their reach can go."
"Yes, my king. I shall triple our black-cloaks along the borders."
Dorgram turned next to the armored dwarf to his right.
"Kommev."
The war general stepped forward instantly, kneeling with a fist to his chest.
"Sire."
"Raise conscription to ten percent. I do not want to be caught with our pants down if it is Elves spreading their influence. Focus on the mountain villages — those closest to the skyfire routes. The Wyvern Corps must not fall behind. Increase golem production. I'll have a logistics officer deliver full allocation reports to your war room tonight."
"It shall be done."
"And prepare the militia. If this so-called rebellion spreads due to Elves…" Dorgram looked to the north windows, "…I want to be the stone that does not move."
Finally, he waved a hand.
"You are all dismissed."