The Darkflow River, as its name suggests, was an underground channel carved by the dwarfs of Karak Vlag to connect the northern and southern fjords of Norsca. This subterranean river, hidden deep beneath the Norscan mountain range, served as the lifeline for the isolated hold. Through it, the dwarfs could trade with the outside world, send troops, and maintain vital communication despite their remote location.
However, this lifeline could not be used openly or frequently. If the Norscans, or worse, the Skaven, discovered it, the consequences could be catastrophic. Thus, the dwarfs of Karak Vlag carefully chose secure timeframes for travel and limited the channel's use to maintain its secrecy.
The Darkflow River was pitch-black, illuminated only by scattered dwarf rune-stones and the flickering torches aboard the small transport vessels. The complex network of riverways was riddled with traps, dead ends, and bottomless pits, making navigation impossible without a dwarf familiar with the intricacies of the runic markers.
Ryan, the Knight-King of Bretonnia, had woken early. But when he stepped outside, he found no sunrise to greet him. Instead, there was only darkness, stone walls to his left and right, and a rocky ceiling above. Feeling restless, he wandered onto the deck of the transport ship, only to find himself with nothing to do.
Two familiar dwarfs, Thorgelin Jr. and his good friend Jed, were already on deck. These two younger dwarfs, or "beardlings," were thriving in this underground environment. Like most dwarfs, they adored caves, mines, and rocky terrains. Thorgelin Jr. was animatedly discussing how, if he were the High King of Karak Vlag, he would build and govern the hold. It was clear from his words that he had little regard for the High King of Karaz-a-Karak, Thorgrim Grudgebearer. Much like his father, Belgar Ironhammer, the younger dwarf was growing confident—perhaps overly so. After all, they had reclaimed Eight Peaks without Thorgrim's help, hadn't they?
"Ah, King Ryan!" Thorgelin Jr. greeted him enthusiastically, bowing with proper dwarfen decorum. "Have you had breakfast? Care for some?"
The two beardlings were enjoying a traditional dwarfen breakfast on deck—beer, sausage, goat cheese, and dwarf lye bread.
Ryan chuckled inwardly. Breakfast of champions, I see. First thing in the morning, and they're already eating like it's a victory feast. Shaking his head, the knight politely declined. "Thank you, but I've already had something prepared. I'm not quite used to such... hearty food in the morning."
"Ah, so the King of Bretonnia has better fare, does he?" Jed the Honest grinned, combing his beard meticulously. Though his beard barely reached his chest, Jed treated it with the reverence typical of all dwarfs. Beards were a symbol of status, pride, and experience among their kind. Even during the journey, the two younger dwarfs made it a point to wash and groom their beards daily.
"Wait a moment, King Ryan," Jed suddenly pointed out, his sharp eyes narrowing. "Why have you shaved your beard again? Completely smooth! Not even a shadow left! Why, every time we see you, it's the same! I must say, it's not right. Humans may not share all our customs, but even your kind grow beards as they age, do they not?"
"Uh…" Ryan rubbed his clean-shaven chin awkwardly. I can't exactly tell them that the Lady of the Lake doesn't like it because she's afraid it'll tickle or prick her when we're… close, can I?
His thoughts turned momentarily to his goddess, Lileath. She was growing increasingly demanding in their relationship—knowing all too well how to press his buttons and use his weaknesses to her advantage. Ryan sighed. It wasn't as though he minded entirely, but still…
"It's just easier this way," Ryan said with a laugh, brushing off the question. "It's like how some of the Empire's soldiers prefer to keep their heads completely shaved. Practical, no?"
As they continued sailing through the Darkflow River, Thorgelin Jr. turned the conversation back to their destination.
"King Ryan, in another two days, we'll arrive at Karak Vlag. During the defense of Erengrad, I had some discussions with High Thane Thorgard. The dwarfs of Karak Vlag, having been separated from the rest of the mountain kingdoms for over seven thousand years, have developed unique cultural and social practices. They're quite different from us in many ways."
Thorgelin Jr. hesitated, then added, "When we arrive, no matter what Thorgard requests—so long as it's not too unreasonable or strange—I recommend you comply. It's unlikely he'll try to make things difficult for us. After all, Karak Vlag contributed significantly to the defense of Erengrad and the Bagration Campaign. I also told him of your deeds."
"I take it the High King's decrees don't carry much weight in Karak Vlag?" Ryan asked, already suspecting the answer.
"Too much time apart," Thorgelin Jr. admitted with a shake of his head. "We should count ourselves lucky that the Norscan dwarfs didn't end up like our other estranged cousins—those who fell to Chaos. At least Karak Vlag still retains some loyalty to our people."
Ryan nodded thoughtfully.
The issue Thorgelin Jr. described wasn't unique to the dwarfs. It was a classic problem inherent to feudal systems. Feudal expansion, while effective in quickly controlling remote or newly acquired territories, carried the seeds of its own downfall. The two most common issues were localism and the difficulty of reclaiming authority from overly powerful vassals.
Ryan had always opposed the naive view that feudal expansion was an unqualified good. Some argued that granting land to vassals would naturally spread the ruling culture, strengthen claims of sovereignty, and ensure that the land ultimately "stayed in the pot," so to speak. But such reasoning often ignored the long-term consequences.
Even among the tradition-bound dwarfs, feudal expansion had its pitfalls. The dwarfen expeditions during their Age of Exploration had resulted in two extreme outcomes: the formation of semi-independent holds like Karak Vlag, and the complete fall of others to Chaos, transforming them into the infamous Chaos Dwarfs of Zharr-Naggrund.
If a species as proud and rooted in tradition as the dwarfs could succumb to such fates, what hope did humanity have?
Ryan mused over these thoughts as the transport ship continued its slow journey. The darkness around him mirrored the weighty questions in his mind.
Eventually, his train of thought was interrupted by a familiar voice.
"Ryan, why are you still standing around on deck? Come inside."
He turned to see the Lady of the Lake herself, stepping gracefully onto the deck. She was radiant as always, her long golden hair styled in an elegant high-elven updo that cascaded down like a waterfall. She wore a dazzling layered dress of mint blue and crystal, her feet adorned with open-toed heels decorated with golden fleur-de-lis. A faint aura of white-gold light shimmered around her.
As always, her presence was visible only to Ryan, hidden from the rest of the ship's crew by her illusions.
"Breakfast is ready?" Ryan asked, noticing the playful tone in her voice.
"Yes, Morgiana has finished preparing everything. Come inside." Lileath beckoned him, her delicate hand gesturing for him to follow.
Ryan sighed with a smile. "You see, Lileath, with all this darkness around us, I almost mistook it for dinnertime!"
"Dinner, is it?" Lileath smiled knowingly, stepping closer to take his arm. Her soft curves pressed against him as she leaned in. "Well, dinner is lovely too. And after dinner, we could perhaps… do something to help our dear Knight-King stay in shape. After all, you've been neglecting your exercise lately."
Ryan's expression froze, a faint shade of green creeping onto his face. Not again…
Inside the cabin, Morgiana greeted them with a bright smile. The Fay Enchantress was dressed casually in a white linen blouse and a pink pencil skirt, her legs encased in sheer nude stockings. A pair of simple slippers adorned her feet, and she wore an apron over her outfit. She had just finished plating the final dish—a fried egg.
"Ryan, you're back," Morgiana said, looking slightly embarrassed as she adjusted her skirt. "Breakfast is ready."
Ryan couldn't help but smile as he took the plate from her hands and helped her remove the apron. He led her to the table and sat down beside her, while Lileath, as usual, contented herself with a plate of fresh fruit.
As they ate, the conversation turned to political matters.
"Oh, by the way," Lileath began, her tone casual but her gaze sharp. "About that member of the Garland Council—Katherine, was it?"
"Yes," Ryan replied, his mind briefly shifting gears. "Why? Did something happen?"
"It caused quite the stir," Lileath said, delicately slicing a piece of fruit. "The nobles debated fiercely, but in the end, they agreed. Carlad's achievements in the war, combined with Suria's support and the fact that Katherine bore him a child, were enough to secure her title as Countess."
Katherine,
Veronica's protégé, had struck the jackpot by bearing Carlad a son. This unexpected development had prompted Carlad to request that Katherine be formally recognized as his countess—a first for a sorceress in Bretonnia.
"It wasn't easy," Lileath added, sipping her tea. "But it's done."
"Good," Ryan said, setting down his fork. "Though she won't remain a countess for long. Once we return, I plan to elevate Carlad to the rank of Marquis of Galamont and name him Marshal of Bretonnia."
Ryan had no time to rest. Plans for centralizing power in Bretonnia would have to wait.
At that moment, the door to the cabin shut. Ryan turned to see Lileath locking it with a mischievous smile. Before he could protest, she leaned in close, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"You can't say no to me, my champion," she whispered. "I know you can do this."
Before Ryan could respond, Morgiana, blushing furiously, wrapped her arms around his neck and silenced him with a kiss.
"Mmmpfh—!"
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