"This is the pinnacle of bearded Engineering,
Conceived, evidently, after a terrible drinking bout!
How else to explain why Dwarves would want to fly at all?
Staying in the air by means of physics and a wing and a prayer.
And a Dwarf pilot, torn away from his beer kegs,
Is not the most disciplined fighter.
They crammed rapid-fire guns and bombs in there!
And then they even managed to seat a second gunner!
It's a pity we didn't have such toys in the Second War,
Only their pathetic likeness, which was but a single bite for a dragon."
Under the roar of blades, they descended from the heavens. A new engineering and scientific marvel that pushed the whole world one step further, turning a page of history.
No matter how many pompous words I spoke, all of this would remain mundane in the eyes of descendants and all those who would study this day from history books in the future.
Right now, a true miracle was unfolding before our eyes. A Dwarf had soared above the heavens and was plying the expanses of the clouds while the sun's rays greeted their new guest, who had come one step closer to them.
Until this day, only mages, birds, and all sorts of creatures could conquer the skies, but now everything would change. A project was already spinning in my head that would allow for the creation of something amazing. My hands were itching to get back to the Workshop as soon as possible and start creating a real flying ship, which, although it would be slower, would be able to travel much greater distances and carry dozens of people.
Watching the pilots as they got into the spirit, vividly demonstrating the capabilities of their new toys, I couldn't help but marvel at how fast and fickle progress could be.
For thousands of years, we mastered stone. The mountains of Khaz generously shared their bounty with us and allowed us to dig deeper and deeper, burrowing into the hard rock in search of new ores and metals.
For hundreds of years, we lived by one rule, one principle, and only after the War of the Three Hammers did the Dwarves of Khaz Modan enter a Golden Age of enlightenment, when discoveries showered upon our people one after another.
The invention of smokeless coal, gunpowder, stainless steel, casting, pistols and rifles, machine tools, Fire-spitters... This is only a small part of the discoveries thanks to which the whole world has to reckon with Ironforge. And now this too...
They were magnificent. The sharp angles and powerful arches of the machines that carried King Magni's messengers into the air would be forever etched in my memory. Several rotors carried the wonder-tech into the air, and a couple more provided movement, pulling the heavy mechanism along, allowing it to develop unthinkable speeds.
One pilot for each construct, who was also the mechanic, the navigator, and the chief driver. Operating a flying machine required extraordinary skills, and only seasoned, old Dwarves could handle the controls and receive flight clearance.
Already, a whole set of operating rules was being created under the guidance of all the test pilots.
*I should definitely familiarize myself with it, just in case.*
Running my hand through my beard, I leaned my back against the corner of a house, scratching the hair on my chin, watching the pilots' maneuvers intently.
The flying machines moved jerkily; they could lose speed or altitude at any moment; they broke down constantly and required a thorough and meticulous approach to maintenance. But it was worth it. The advantages in speed and flight range that flying machines offer, unlike griffons and other creatures, easily offset all the flaws.
*Well, maybe not all of them.*
Accompanied by Dwarven cursing, one of the showing-off test pilots began pounding on a smoking engine, and when the machine finally gave up, the rotors stopped, and the unit itself plummeted to the ground, smashing to pieces. Luckily, the altitude wasn't high, and it seemed the pilot escaped with only a few fractures.
"And still, amazing..."
"I agree," the figure of Anduin Lothar appeared beside me, who was extremely attracted to these machines, "can you replicate something like that?"
"Like that?" Under the mocking gaze of my old acquaintance, who was clearly provoking me, knowing my explosive temperament perfectly well, I couldn't restrain myself. "PHA! Who do you take me for, you Gnomish scrotum? That I would?! Rodgirn Steel Barrel copying these ignoramuses!? I'll make something many times better! Better and more stable!"
Adding that last bit, I watched with skepticism as another apparatus dived down, taking out a couple of trees.
*Good thing they had the sense to hold the demonstrations outside the city.*
Glancing at Thoras Trollbane's face, which reflected an understanding of such problems, I spoke to Lothar again. The king stood a bit apart from us and—already learned from the experience of communicating with me—was surely calculating in his head how these little ones could be used in warfare.
"But I'll be making them for Stromgarde," nodding my beard toward Thoras Trollbane, I folded my powerful arms across my chest. It was clear where this was going, as this was far from the first time Lothar had tried to lure me to the neighboring kingdom, "so take it up with the king."
"Are you sure? Lordaeron is wealthier right now, and your work would find..."
"Enough," cutting the Human off mid-sentence, I turned to face Anduin, and incomprehension was reflected on my face, "I can't believe I'm saying this to you. To anyone else, but definitely not to you. I made a deal and gave my word! Not every hand only scratches its own beard."
"So you're working for the idea, not for the money... Fine."
Hesitating with an answer, I said more than any words could. Realizing that the cunning man had maneuvered me into the answer he wanted, playing his role perfectly, I bristled my mustache and beard defiantly, swearing in my native tongue.
"My business is none of your concern! You, damn serpent, your tongue is like a Troll's, cunning and boneless. Menu shirumund upstart!" Lothar's beard was indeed rather meager compared to mine. Plus, he'd had to shorten it significantly after the battle with the Loa, so now it was just ordinary stubble. "I knew all your feigned nobility was just a game and a sham to deceive honest Dwarves!"
"Now, now, no need to go on like that; I was just asking."
"Don't play me for a fool, Anduin!" I was tired of these games. I never liked them, which is why I always left Ironforge with joy when the fog induced by the hospitality of my home was replaced by the reality of intrigues and other behind-the-scenes games. "I know what these questions are for, I know why you're still hanging around here, why the Pointy-Eared nags bow at your feet and whisper with you in corners, and I know what you and Muradin discussed behind closed doors! So, be so kind, Uzbad, show me a little respect and speak plainly!"
My angry speech drew unwanted attention to us, but a couple of waves of the hand from Anduin—and even King Thoras Trollbane left us alone, though I'm sure Trollbane clearly wanted to come over and find out what had upset his dear guest and inventor so much.
Thoughtfully surveying the blue sky, whose sparse clouds had been dispersed by the flying machines, Lothar folded his hands behind his back, tilting his proud, noble chin higher, clenching his jaws tight. He stood like that for several long, agonizing seconds until he finally released a stream of air from his lungs, as if symbolically setting his fears and hopes free.
"Forgive me, Rodgirn," the words came with difficulty. Despite his character, Anduin remained a proud knight and a representative of the aristocracy; moreover, age was already taking its toll, and admitting mistakes was not a typical event for such people, "I've grown so unaccustomed to speaking with friends rather than politicians and schemers that my speech has become like this in everyday life."
"Oh, forget it," nodding understandingly, I pulled a pipe and tobacco from my tunic, sitting down on the nearest steps, "the bad always takes root faster than the good."
"True enough," sitting down beside me, disregarding his expensive mantle and armor, the man interlaced his fingers, resting his forehead against them, "sometimes I envy you and your life."
"Every Human envies Dwarves..." Melancholically shrugging, I struggled to suppress a laugh. To me, Lothar was muttering self-evident truths—what Human wouldn't want to be a Dwarf?! "But not every Human says it out loud."
"Ha-ha, indeed." A strained laugh and a heavy sigh... For the first time in my memory, Anduin's face was graced with real emotions.
Fatigue, brokenness, doubt, and much more...
I, and no one else, could blame him for it. The First Sword of Stormwind, friend of the king, father... And he had lost all these titles because of the Orcs—who had passed through his lands with fire and sword.
Smiling sadly, Lothar looked into the distance for a few seconds, clearly digging into himself, and I didn't disturb him; I just sat silently beside him and smoked, supporting a comrade and possibly a friend...
Until his old spirit returned!
"Do you repeat that to yourself often when you can't climb onto a horse?"
"Haven't had a punch in the eye for a while, have you?"
Our collective laughter drew a new portion of attention, only now people wanted to come closer without disturbing us to find out the reason for the hilarity and not "scare it away."
"But seriously?"
Relighting the extinguished pipe, I slowly drew in the smoke, letting it seep through my lungs, chilling me to the core. Lorntekol—excellent tobacco, with a slight aftertaste of freshly plowed earth, you couldn't ask for better for these times.
Sensing the aroma, Lothar reached out his hand, into which I readily thrust the end of the pipe, allowing the man to take a puff and for a moment escape from all his problems that had piled up on him.
Waiting long enough, I didn't ask again, having already lost all hope for an answer, but my friend finally spoke, as if forcing the words out of himself.
"I'm afraid, Rodgirn."
My coughing and the smoke pouring out of every orifice again turned the heads of the spectators toward us, especially Muradin and Thoras Trollbane, but they still allowed us to be alone, though the looks of both promised questioning... Long and tedious questioning.
"Not in the sense you thought," understanding me without words, Anduin straightened his back, tossing his hair, "it's not the fear of battle or death that torments me, but something much more ephemeral... What if I'm too late again, if I fail to gather the forces to withstand the Orc threat. Every time I'm alone with my thoughts, I see images of my burning city and the dead bodies of its defenders, and most importantly—the body of my king."
Lothar's voice slowly transitioned into a chilling whisper as the man shared his thoughts and heavy burdens with me.
"Just walking the streets of Stromgarde, I see the green-skinned wave engulfing this beautiful, ancient city. How its walls, which saw the dawn of humanity, will fall, and these cursed creatures will swarm the streets, erasing the last remnants of Arathor..." Clenching his fingers until they were white, under my attentive gaze, Lothar lowered his head, covering his eyes with his messy bangs. "And every time I think about it, it seems to me that too little has been done and that all that happened is specifically my fault, and nothing can be fixed anymore, that time is lost, and I myself am left with nothing."
"Bah..."
Grunting in dissatisfaction, I settled more comfortably on the stone steps, adjusting my pants which were creeping into unwanted places.
The pipe hit the stone beneath my feet with a ringing thud as I knocked out the ash and the remains of smoldering embers.
"Anduin," placing a hand on my friend's shoulder, I squeezed my fingers tighter, drawing his attention to me, "you will manage, you specifically, and not someone else. And Thoras Trollbane, Terenas, Alonsus Faol, the paladin boys, and I... We will all help you and prevent the same thing that happened to Stormwind. I promise, I will do everything in my power to create something incredible..."
"Just look at that, sister." The inspiration vanished for both of us, and a moment important for real men was ruined. With a cracked smile, I didn't even have to turn around to know who was standing behind my back. "It turns out he can speak normally and has manners."
"Oh, for the love of..."
Dejectedly hanging my head, I moved away from Lothar, muttering grumpily under my breath, cursing the bold Elves who have neither shame nor conscience.
"I can hear you, you know," Sara's ominous whisper forced me to look up at them, "you'd better..."
"Sister, enough... I'm sure Master Rodgirn didn't mean anything bad," stepping forward slightly, the elder of the Elves bowed to Anduin, greeting him, before freezing in front of me, "I would like to discuss something with you, Master..."
"No."
"How dare you, Dwarf!?"
"Even more no."
Intervening in our conversation, Sara allowed me to throw my trumps into the burgeoning argument from the very start and now just sit there, tenderly packing my pipe again, hoping the smell would drive the two individuals away before I got tired of listening to them.
Rumor has it that Elves copulate with trees and can't stand it when they are burned and chopped... Well, let's see.
Holding back her sister who was lunging at me, to Lothar's chuckles, Nara tried to explain something to me, but because of the struggle with her relative, she wasn't succeeding.
Deciding to ignore the two headstrong girls, I simply continued the conversation with the man as if nothing had happened.
"If we're talking business," the aromas of tobacco tickled my nostrils, which flared wider and wider, showing my anticipation and delight, "then I plan to create something similar to a flying machine, but much larger and more powerful!"
"M?"
Leaning in with interest, I began to describe my idea in vivid detail, though I'm sure Anduin didn't understand even half of my words. The commander of the army of Lordaeron just nodded in the right places, subtly noting my reaction and practically reading everything from my satisfied face.
"I am forced to admit that, although you are an animal, your knowledge in many areas would make even..."
Not waiting to hear the rest, I simply waved a hand at the monotonous, cold voice, causing the fight between the sisters to resume with new force. Anduin struggled not to look in that direction, but every now and then, his eyes would drift and his eyebrows would climb higher and higher.
"But, I'm not going to move to Lordaeron," my words stopped the comical battle, and Lothar himself concentrated all his attention on me again, "my place is here. These people—I like them. Their character and strength, simple ways and light thoughts..."
Relighting my pipe, I scanned my listeners until I stared at the mighty figure of King Thoras Trollbane, who commanded respect by his very appearance.
"I feel as if I'm at home again..."
"Why don't you just return to Khaz Modan then, along with Muradin?"
"Eh," the Dwarf we were discussing was currently spinning around the wonder-machines with his entire retinue, showering the test pilots with questions, "fine, it's no big secret, but... The way back to my Homeland is closed to me for the coming years."
An awkward silence fell over our corner, for exile, even for a short term, is an extremely rare punishment for Dwarves. Our people are used to settling their affairs and problems within the strong walls of Ironforge, trying not to air dirty laundry so that kinsmen don't scatter across the world, taking secrets and grudges to other countries.
My situation is very rare, and probably only the Elves remember the last time a Dwarf was exiled from Khaz Modan. If you don't count the voluntary departure of the Wildhammer Clan, such a thing happened about three centuries ago.
"I see..." For a few seconds, silence reigned in our spot, and even the Pointy-Ears' sarcasm didn't break through. Anduin was the first to speak again, pulling me out of my heavy thoughts. "And for how long?"
"Fifteen years," a heavy sigh escaped on its own, but I quickly pulled my usual smirk back onto my face, "so for all that time I'll stay here, helping the people of Stromgarde and possibly even their descendants. I'll start my own guild and company, and then maybe King Magni will soften and assign me some assistants..."
My words, voice, and face said one thing, but in the depths of my eyes, bitterness welled up at the impossibility of returning home at any moment. Apparently, Anduin caught something like that, because his powerful hand descended onto my shoulder, squeezing in a firm, friendly grip that promised support and help.
The Elves, meanwhile, were making thoughtful faces, playing with their expressions in a way no jester could. It worked especially well for the elder, Nara, as I could read the heavy work of her thoughts right on her forehead.
"Alright, enough listening to an old Dwarf's tales," getting to my feet, I caught the skeptical looks of all three, "old on the outside, not the inside! You could have just played along!"
"I'm almost your age."
"And we're actually over two hundred."
"Aaaa," Dwarven curses again graced the test site, which had been organized from an old fort of the fallen empire, "you've teamed up faster than I expected! I knew the power of beauties would easily lure away even the most loyal friend."
"What did you just blurt out?"
Along with Anduin and, surprisingly, with Nanandiel, we ignored Sara and simply laughed, while the younger of the sisters, puffing out her cheeks, stepped aside, casting angry looks at us.
"So, you're staying here? A pity. King Terenas would have given much to have you settle in his capital," seeing my rising eyebrow, Lothar hurriedly waved his hands, "alright, alright, I get it, but I had to try one more time."
"Eh," stepping heavily from one foot to the other, I scratched the back of my head with one hand with a sigh, "alright, let's do this! I'll help you in your endeavors, and my little ones will be at your disposal. And if the cause requires me to move to Lordaeron, then so be it, but until then, leave off your pathetic attempts; you look like a clueless Gnome who's just been torn away from his mother's teat."
"An excellent comparison," Anduin's satisfied mug just begged for me to do something nasty, "I would make an excellent Gnome or Dwarf, don't you think?"
"That the last heir to the throne of the Empire would compare himself to these..."
The whisper of my dear Sarochka was actually heartwarming.
"Then it's settled," putting a period on the conversation, I patted my stomach and headed toward the flying machines, around which the hype was finally beginning to subside, "then I won't say goodbye; stop by my place on the eve, we'll discuss the details, and now I need to say my farewells and finally get my naughty fingers under this little one's skirt."
"Disgusting..."
Followed by unreadable looks from the Elves and Lothar, I almost skipped toward the flying machines. Ideas were already racing through my head on how to realize the full potential of this miracle, but long hours of familiarizing myself with the documentation, internal layout, and tolerances still lay ahead.
*Ah, a busy night lies ahead of me.*
I wanted to give a lewd lick of the lips, but there were just too many people here, especially Dwarves from Muradin's guard, who, unlike the king's messengers, looked at me quite kindly.
But the flying machine pilots themselves were characterized by an extremely foul and belligerent temperament as soon as I came within the sight of one of them.
Serving Magni personally and having arrived for Muradin, they almost spat in my direction, which had already forced me into a fight with the boldest and "smartest" several times. And no matter how we tried to find out exactly what the king wanted and why he was recalling his brother-ambassador, who was currently actively establishing relations with many kingdoms at once...? For everyone, it remained a mystery, although in many heads, such as Thoras Trollbane's, Anduin's, and mine, the first suspicions had already crept in, and there was nothing good in them.
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