The clatter of the chariot wheels echoed through the thinning mist of Selpa, the only sound breaking the forest's newly restored silence.
" Oi! Is this.... a demon's ear?" Cid exclaimed, poking at a large, hairy, and distinctly ear- shaped object lodged in the chariot's side. " It's monstrous! I could wear it as a cloak!"
He reached out to tug it. As everyone turned, the "ear" twitched. A low grumble emanated from the shadowy undergrowth beside the path. For a heartbeat, the group froze - then burst into incredulous laughter. The tension that had held Delvin's face like a mask finally cracked. A startled snort escaped him, then a genuine, breathless laugh that felt like shedding a heavy weight. The journey continued, the mood lighter. Then, the dense forest gave way to raw mountain. And there, carved into the very bones of the stone, was their destination.
" We're here," Persie said, his voice carrying a note of grim purpose. " Dwargon. The fortified kingdom of the dwarfs."
Torches flickered along it's high walls, illuminating the stocky, armoured silhouettes of dwarf sentries - each no taller than four feet, but bearing axes that glinted with deadly promise.
" Stop right there!" A voice like grinding stones called out from the gatehouse. A dwarf clad in burnished steel stepped into the torchlight, his beard woven with iron rings and his eyes as hard as the mountain itself. " State your business at the gates of Dwargon, or turn your wagon around."
As the chariot got closer to the gates of the fortress. A sudden silence enveloped the area. Every eye on the battlements focused on the chariot, weapons shifting with a soft, metallic rasp. From the chariot, Penelope leaned out, folding her arms.
" Isn't that old man Darold?" She said , looking unimpressed.
" Vigilance is the price of stone, lass," Darold grunted, his flinty eyes scanning the dark tree line behind them. " Scouting parties have gone silent in the lower delves. We let no one pass without a cause."
" You are right to be cautious," Persie said, standing. His lotus tattoo caught the torchlight. " Our cause is urgent. We need weapons."
Darold's stern expression shifted. He brought a gauntleted fist to his chest in a curt salute.
" My apologies, Lotus- bearer. The stone hears truth. You may pass."
He turned to the guards high above. " Make way!" As the great gears within the mountain began to groan, Persie leaned forward.
" One more thing, captain. Where might we find the smith, Damien?"
" From the bellows in his lungs to the suds in his tankard," Darold said, a faint grimace suggesting his opinion of the Smith's habits.
" You'll find him at Kivana's Inn."
The clamour of striking metal and quarrying stone filled the fortress as they moved past workshops and cabins. Then, a wave of contrast hit them: sweet music, the rich smell of ale and spirits, and the lively chatter of dwarf maidens flooded a bustling inner circle. It was a world apart from the sweating, dusty industry of the outer gates.
The noise inside Kivana's Inn was a solid wall of sound - a roaring mix of clinking tankards, boisterous song, and the tense murmurs that had followed them in: " ... terror outside the gates....."
" .... shortage of ingots..... can't forge a decent blade.... " and there, holding court at a low, scarred table in the corner, sat Damien. Surrounded by a cloud of pipe smoke and a small fortress of empty flagons, he was deep in animated argument with a dwindling circle of peers.
Damien's laughter died in his throat as he spotted them over the rim of his tankard. He sank lower in his seat, attempting to become one with the wooden bench, but one of his companions bellowed, " Oy, Damien! Your fancy Surface- dwellers are here!" Before clapping him on the back and weaving away.
" Some friends you are!" Damien shouted after his departing peers, then he turned his bleary glare on the newcomers.
" Why disturb my happiness, eh?"
" King Fritz wants to organise the seven nature courses", Persie said, cutting straight to it. Damien took a long, slow drink, then slammed his tankard down.
" Why, is the sky falling? Again?"
"We don't know the full shape of it yet", Cid offered.
" And you believe this fool.... what is his name?" Damien scoffed, waving a dismissive hand.
" king Fritz?" Delvin piped up.
" Ah! king Fritz!" Damien roared, drawing looks from nearby tables. "Disturbing the world with his stupid fallacy! "
" Ten ounces of gold," Penelope stated, her voice cutting through his bluster. Damien's irritation shifted to sharp interest.
" for what?"
" For weapons," she said." Perfect ones."
He leaned back, a crafty glint in his eye.
" And who said I do fake? Fine. Twelve ounces. Come back in a week."
" Here is half of the money." Abigail proposed, "we are heading towards paragon. We will be back in a week's time."
" Ok, suit yourselves," Damien grunted, snatching the coins with a practiced flick of his wrist.
Without another word, he drained his tankard, shoved himself up from the table, and stalked toward a side door, the crowd parting for him as if by habit. Fatigued and stressed they sat down by the table and ordered a dish.
" What an irritating dwarf!" Delvin exhaled, the tension leaving his shoulders. He turned to the others, a real smile on his face for the first time since the forest. " Glad he's gone. Can't take his drama." The table erupted in laughter, and the meal that followed felt like the first true peace they'd had in days.
They spent the night in the Inn. At first light, their purpose renewed, they went strolling through Dwargon's vast market with two goals in mind: Firstly, to buy supplies and secondly, to find Schmeichel, keeper of the portal gates.
The bright, mineral- tinged air of the market seized them as soon as they left the Inn's smoky warmth. They plunged into a river of dwarves flowing between stalls piled with intriguing relics, gleaming ingots, and strange edible fungi, the noise forming a solid wall of commerce and chatter.
The group split to cover more ground. Persie and Abigail headed for a stall selling travel rations - tough, mushroom - based loaves and salted lichen. But Delvin's attention was snagged by the dim interior of a shop across the way, its shelves cluttered with ancient relics. . He slipped inside. The air inside was still and dusty.
Behind a counter littered with gears and corroded coins sat a dwarf so old and wizened he seemed made of parchment and gristle. His eyes, however, were sharp as flint. They followed Delvin's finger as it landed on the display.
" Do you have any idea what you're pointing at, surface- boy?" The old dwarf rasped, his voice like pebbles grinding together.
" No" Delvin admitted, his curiosity burning brighter than caution. " But I'd like to."
" Close the door and come." The old dwarf said, Delvin quickly snapped the door and rushed to the old dwarf without giving him a moment to breathe.
" This," the old dwarf said, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper, "is an ancient sword my grandfather gave to me. He said, ' at the right time give it out. Not as a gift, but as a responsibility to save the worlds.' He paused , his flinty eyes drilling into Delvin.
"I've waited for the one to wield it. None came, until you asked ."
Delvin's eyes locked on the blade, " it has red edges.... and something written on it. " Uphold Justice, My Friend." A light flared within the dim stall. Gleaming along the blade's fuller. As the words " Uphold Justice, My Friend" burned into view , a warmth spread up Delvin's arm from where his finger touched the display case, a feeling like a handshake from a long- lost friend.
The old dwarf gasped," where? I've never seen that before!" He leaned forward, his story rushed out.
"My grandfather said, " thousand years ago, a battle shook the heavens and the Earth, our realms and the cosmic itself. A battle between light and darkness, good and evil. Luminous the light and umber the dark lord. Among the army of Luminous stood the mighty Micha-el commander of the army with his sword Justice. Only Him can wield that sword. Luminous gave it to him after creating him. A friend that can never betray him. As the battle shook the realms, Micha-el stood alone among the Princes of darkness. He fought them head on with his friend Justice. Legend has it, it got to a time he had to sacrifice his bond with Justice, severing their connection to fuel the banishing ritual. The sword, its power spent, fell from the skies like a dying star as it dragged the Princes into the abyss. My grandfather saw a bright light hit the forest. He rushed there and saw the sword. He took it and kept it knowing that one day the owner of this sword will come for it. He told my father as a bed time story and he to me. And so do I to you. Hope you wield it responsibly, it's very dangerous."
" Wow" Delvin breathed, the sword felt unnaturally light in his grip. He gave an experimental swing; it cut the dusty air with a sound like a sigh.
" Where's Delvin?" Persie said, with eyes scanning through the group.
" I.... saw him walking among us." Abigail replied, with a hand scrubbing her hair.
" Let's split up and look for him." Persie suggested.
Back to where the Inn was, Cid's gaze darted vividly across the stalls. And standing curiously with his sword was Delvin in an antique shop filled with ancient relics. The shop door slammed open. Cid stood in the frame, silhouetted against the market's glow. Every eye in the dusty shop landed on him as he strode straight toward Delvin.
" Is that a butcher's knife?" he asked, peering at the sword.
" Don't call a legendary sword a butcher's knife." The old dwarf grinned.
"Come on. The crew is waiting." Cid said , steering Delvin by the shoulders back toward the door.
A sunbeam flashed in Delvin's eyes as they stepped outside, the shop door slamming shut behind them. " Here he is!" Cid exclaimed, looking in the direction of the group.
Furiously, Penelope moved with liquid speed, crossing the market square in a blur. She was upon them in an instant, a storm of worry ready to break. But in a moment, her eyes caught the sword in Delvin's hand.
" Do you even know how to use that? It's not a toy" she said, looking at Delvin with her eyes scanning him up and down. Right behind her, was Persie moving toward them with his eyes glowing, and the lotus tattoo giving a faint glow. He placed a steadying hand on Delvin's other shoulder, his expression a mix of deep solemnity and pride.
" Hmm, I see. The world turns in strange ways." Looking at Delvin with a pleased eye. Meanwhile, Abigail slowly moves behind Penelope and Persie, with tears flowing as she looked at the sword.
" It's..... ancient," she whispered, her green eyes wide. " It carries a silence deeper than a stone and a sorrow older than forests. It has been waiting.... and it hurts." She said, crumbling down.
Ethan immediately supported her, looked at Delvin, and said, " Good choice. you are growing boy." Delvin moved forward upholding his legendary sword. " Sometimes, I ask myself. who this boy really is? he reminds me of an old friend." Persie said. Upholding his sword, Delvin move through the crowd.
The moment of reflection was shattered by a familiar, booming voice across the square. Then Cid shouts," schmeichel !!!" And there he was: Schmeichel, keeper of the Portal Gates. An old, grumpy dwarf in silhouette armour, entirely focused on haggling over a roasted mushroom at a food stall.
" C..iid", schmeichel responded with an angry tone, turned to the voice's direction. And charged towards him.
Ethan intervenes saying, " we need you".
" For what?!" Schmeichel exclaims,
" to travel to paragon", Ethan explains.
" Now, someone sensible is talking. You can't see me and shout Schmeichel! Schmeichel! Schmeichel! Are you a market woman?" He said.
Cid whistles and schmeichel looks at him and then shakes his head and says, " follow me, travellers." Through the market, to the north wings of Dwargon.
The group followed him to a cavern humming with energy. A guild wall with a permanent, rune- carved archway.
The smell of ozone, and the deep thrum of earth magic hits Delvin, who immediately covered his nose. Schmeichel looked at him and scoffed," he'll get used to it. Just like you." Looking at Persie and his comrades.
Schmeichel stepped forward and muttered a command, and the air within the stone arch shimmered like a heat haze, revealing a dizzying glimpse of floating Islands and endless sky.
Persie nodded to his team. One by one, they stepped into the light. He felt a small hand hold him as he entered. He moved a step back, only to see Schmeichel looking greedily at him.
" You know you can't come and use the portal without paying a little reimbursement." He said.
" You've never changed." Persie replied, giving him five shekels of gold and stepped into the light.
The deep, solid silence of Dwargon was ripped away, replaced by a screaming wind and the terrifying, beautiful void of the open heavens. Delvin's last thought before the world dissolved was the firm, reassuring weight of Justice in his hand.