Waning Loyalties
Late Slate 267, Mid Spring
I was forced to terminate Cythereal from her position of bookkeeper today. I discovered she miscounted the migrants, which led to two being undocumented. This leaves all records suspect, but there is a torch in the cavern: I have appointed the much more capable Markus to the role, and have tasked him to review the files immediately. One more correction of the old way. While Boing suggested I have the overlooked dwarves gutted to check that they were disguised monsters, I declared them too small to be harboring elves and had them processed into our system.
Welcome, probably-not-spies!
quote:
Breadmaster, male, pump operator
Chance II, male, legendary engraver miller
*****
Reports of suspicious activity: A dwarf has apparently refused alcohol, saying that it “clouds her vision.” Every proper dwarf is raised to know that drink makes the industrious dwarf, that water is fit only for the animals and the infirm. Ordered she be placed under watch to make sure these incendiary heresies do not spread.
Men reported that she has taken hiding in her workshop. Condition upon sneaking out is described as “distressingly sober.” My men took the opportunity to investigate: inside the shop they found incomprehensible hieroglyphs written in some foul-smelling paint of unknown origin. Men had little time to decipher this code before she returned with a bag containing objects unknown. She has barricaded herself inside again and has not left since. I ordered a rotating watch and authorized a high priority message should situation change.
*****
That miserable mayor has run afoul of me once more. I thought the matter concerning the furniture dropped, but I have now learned he is trying to incite the common dwarf against me. He has falsely accused Shorter than Some, one of my own men, of violating my orders on the production of the Hall of Hero caskets.
My investigation actually had never considered Shorter as he has no connection to that chain of command. This did not stop Locomotive Breath from requesting Boing to lock him up “under my direction.” Locomotive Breath subsequently told the populace that I was trying to advert embarrassment by covering for one of my soldiers. I ordered his immediate resignation, but he responded that his office was decided “by the will of the people” and that I therefore had no authority over him. When the elves return I will throw him to his brothers.
*****
A crisis is averted: Brainspawn has finally surrendered, and was escorted straight to the casks. The shop itself was a mess; however, amongst the rubbish gleamed an almost holy light. It was a perfect jelly opal, with all craftsdwarfship of the highest quality. On the item was an image of a circle in jelly opal. There certainly was beauty in its simplicity. When questioned, Brainspawn would only divulge that it was called Kesting Orrun, “the Meteors of Roaring.” I gave orders to have Brainspawn’s accomplishment celebrated, though I shall be sealing the reports surrounding its construction and swearing all witnesses to absolute secrecy.
******
Another disgraced noble has slipped into vulgarities. Since I removed her standing, Cythereal has been sending me reports of where she’s failed to clean, and requesting I finish the job with my lips. More and more I have to remind myself that if they are too cowardly to face me honorably in the field, then they are not worth my thoughts. At least this proves I made the correct decision in replacing her.
I see the fail to clean: inaccessible message hasn't been fixed
*****
Another crisis! Somehow, a cave crocodile managed to crawl into the Great Hall.
Our dwarves showed their unique courage when not a single citizen ran from the threat. Instead, I am proud to record that clear-thinking Fizzle, who was off duty and equipped as a milker, grabbed his crossbow and distracted the crocodile with his bolts. This allowed Boing and a war dog to corner the dragon, who kept it occupied long enough for me to arrive and dispatch the ferocious beast. Thus, not a single drop of dwarven blood was shed. Even Vox Nihili’s side project need not be expanded!
However, this silver may prove quick. Subsequent inspection failed to reveal any gaps in our defenses. Thus, I must conclude the creature was let in. I will not elaborate, as I fear writing any of my musings in these unsecured records would only aide our enemy.
*****
I stood watch over the progress of Enzer’s memorial.
“I thought you said you hated her.” I knew that strange mixture of battle-trained gruffness and femininity in the voice beside me could only belong to my second-in-command Atomikus.
“Hm?”
“Enzer. I thought you said you hated her. That she only got where she was by stealing your kills. That’s why you pushed us so hard to beat her squad all those years ago. Yet here you are building her a monument.”
I sighed. “I was younger then. Naive. But her death taught me something. It taught me it wasn’t who you killed. It was why you killed. She stood her ground and, alone, took on an army of goblins. Without her there, those goblins would have run free, cutting down dwarves. Dwarves who never so much as handled a pick, let alone an axe or hammer. Who don’t need to see war. There is no telling how many she saved. Possibly this whole damn place.” I coughed. “If only I had been there. Maybe…”
I turned to where Atomikus had been, but found I was alone. She probably remembered some urgent matter she had to attend to. For the best, really; it would probably be damaging to see a superior in such a state.
markus_cz wrote :-
The door to the council room slammed shut. With the meeting over, most of the attendants had already gone. However, two still remained. One of them spoke:
"Have you noticed the flaw in Minty's design?" asked Leperfish.
"I have," said Markus.
"Then why haven't you told him? You are the Great Architect, it is your responsibility to watch for things like these. Asymmetry does not please the eye."
"Tell him? Why should I?" Markus shook his head. "It is not my tomb."
"No, it is not. It is Enzer's," said Leperfish.
Markus didn't meet Leperfish's eye. Instead, he turned his back to his friend and looked around the room. As he moved, his shoes splashed in the still wet mud covering the whole floor. Mushrooms and rot had already started growing by the walls. The room looked old, even though he knew it had been build only a few years ago. "We used to play checkers here," he said.
"We still can," said Leperfish.
"No, we cannot, do you not see it? It's ruined," said Markus. "The walls have been spoiled by a madman's etchings, the statues have been toppled, their heads and hands broken off, the once magnificent floor now looks like the swamp above. And see here," he pointed to a corner, "there is already a young fungiwood sprouting in between the tiles. Soon, the tree will break the tiles and spread its spores. Others will follow. Nothing will remain."
"We can clean it, fix it, re-smooth the walls. And I can make new statues," suggested Leperfish. To make his point, he knelt on the ground and started sweeping the mud by his hands. Soon, a tile in vibrant red bauxite appeared.
But Markus was adamant. "What would be the point? How long would it last? The elves have already found us. Even now, new migrants leave their old fortresses and move to Gemclod, to be all together for an easy slaughter. How foolish was I. By establishing Gemclod, I have doomed the Famous Palisade. We will all die." He sat down in the corner, hanging his head.
It took Leperfish a while to figure out what to say. But in the end, he had found the words. "Yes, we will all die. Maybe this year, maybe in thousand years, but one day, the dwarves will be gone. But until that time, we can can build, we can dig, we can engrave and craft. When we are gone, the stone will remind everyone that we were here and tell stories about our lives. The stone is eternal, and through it we are eternal. It's the dwarven way."
He waited a while for a response, and when none came, he shrugged and left the room.
In the corner, Markus slowly got up and stroke his beard. Then, the architect bowed down, wrapped his functional hand around the fungiwood sapling, pulled, and uprooted it from the ground. As he dropped it down, one could - from the right angle, and only for a blink of an eye - maybe see an imperceptible hint of a smile.
"Oh, Leperfish, you crafty dwarf."