The Pact of the Hammer and the Stone Throne
If humans could see beneath the island, they'd see a map that wasn't a map.
Kazador above—by the furnaces.
Graimfold east—behind the maze.
Thorindar below—heart of stone.
The three cities were not separate.
One body. Three hearts.
Dwarven Culture: A People Who Do Not Bow
Dwarves did not measure time in years, but in works.
A dwarf child was asked not his age, but the first metal he smelted. A warrior was measured not by kills, but by those he brought home alive.
Their culture stood on three laws:
Work is honor
A word is an oath
The mountain is mother
So even ruined kingdoms were treated like sacred shrines—not treasure warehouses.
The Hammer Charter
Their ancient law held seven pillars:
Do not deceive a guest beneath the mountain
Do not steal the earth that birthed you
Do not raise a weapon in the king's hall
Do not break an oath, whatever the cost
Do not leave a worker beneath rubble
Do not forget the name of a fallen king
Loyalty is given only once
The Rune Tongue: Written Magic
Dwarven language was voice and carving.
They spoke with deep, rough cadence, but wrote in runes—runic marks that were not letters alone, but frozen spells.
Runes for protection. Concealment. Strength. Memory.
Even walls "worked" because of runes.
That's why satellites couldn't see their cities clearly—not fully hidden, but distorted enough to create doubt without proof.
Dorgrin the Ancient
Thorindar's king wasn't the tallest—he was the heaviest in presence. Silver beard, eyes like polished metal. His armor was practical, carved with old runes. On his back, the royal hammer: Silencebreaker.
A king not only by blood… but by deed.
Now, listening to guards, he understood one thing:
"Strangers approach the upper gates."
He smiled softly:
"Words… are more dangerous than blades."
And on the surface, a delegation of ministers and merchants moved toward the mountain before the human king could know.
End of Chapter Four