The path leading to Karak Vlag was an extraordinarily long corridor that required close to two hours of walking. Along the way, squads of Ironbreaker warriors and numerous dwarf rangers patrolled the halls, ensuring security while leaving space for the guests: King Ryan, Morgiana, and Lileath. Behind them followed a few veteran Old Guard soldiers, members of the Red Navy, and the hapless Otto Bagley, whose cold had yet to improve. The dwarfs, ever quick to ridicule human frailty, laughed at him while also providing a handcart to transport the sickly merchant. At their suggestion, Otto reluctantly took a swig of Karak Vlag's signature strong ale, which, much to his surprise, made him feel a little better.
The long hallway was adorned with countless murals and statues of the dwarven ancestor gods.
While the statues of the three main dwarven deities—Grungni, Grimnir, and Valaya—needed no further introduction, it was the statues of four secondary dwarven deities that caught the attention of Ryan and his entourage. These figures were:
Smednir, the god of mines and caverns. Thungni, the god of runic magic. Morgrim, the god of engineering. Gazul, the protector of the dead.
It's worth noting that the dwarven gods are fundamentally different from elven gods. All dwarven deities are ancestral gods, meaning that they once lived, worked, and fought alongside their people as flesh-and-blood mortals. For example, Smednir and Thungni were the offspring of Grungni and Valaya, while Morgrim was the son of Grimnir and Valaya. Gazul's origins, however, remain a mystery.
"Roughly seven thousand years ago, our war god, Grimnir, resolved to lead a dwarven army to the far north to close the Chaos portals," High King Thorgard Crimson recounted as he guided the group. "Grungni and Valaya tried to dissuade him, but Grimnir's stubbornness was as unyielding as his axe. His thirst for victory and battle was like an ale lover's insatiable desire for malt beer. To show his determination, Grimnir even trimmed his hair and beard before setting off with his son Morgrim and a host of warriors."
"The expedition didn't go well from the start. Grimnir and Morgrim cut their way through countless foes but encountered persistent trouble upon entering the Chaos Wastes. After slaying a Chaos dragon, they celebrated with ale, but Grimnir then ordered the army to press on. They fought and defeated three Khorne Daemon Princes, but Grimnir sustained grievous wounds. Recognizing his diminished strength, he commanded Morgrim to lead the survivors back to the mountains while he strode alone into the Chaos Wastes, never to return."
Thorgard gestured toward the murals as he continued his tale. "After Grimnir's disappearance, Grungni and Valaya resolved to lead another expedition to the Chaos Wastes. This time, the host was far larger. Many of the warriors settled in the region that is now Karak Vlag. They chose this location because of its rich mineral veins, abundant fish and livestock, and high-altitude pastures suitable for barley cultivation and grazing. Thus, our ancestors established their hold here."
Ryan nodded thoughtfully. The rest of the story was common knowledge: the Chaos invasions and the eventual salvation of the Norscan dwarfs, thanks to a timely warning sent by Grungni before his disappearance.
Thorgard sighed. "We've always tried to find a safe passage to the south, but every attempt has been thwarted by hordes of Chaos beasts and warbands. For now, we are secure, but we remain isolated. Using the power of our ancestor gods and runic magic, we've managed to ward off Chaos corruption and conceal our hold in the mountains. Over thousands of years, we've slowly rebuilt our strength, carefully avoiding prolonged conflict."
"But all contact with the southern dwarfs was completely severed?" Morgiana asked, her voice curious. "Surely there were still some links through the Ugol tribes or the Kislevites?"
"We once traded with the Norscans," Thorgard acknowledged with a nod. "But over time, the Norscans abandoned all faiths other than their devotion to Chaos. This forced us to sever ties with them and left us isolated once more. For a while, we even suspected that the southern Nords, Imperials, and Kislevites had also turned to Chaos. It wasn't until just before the Great Holy War, when the Darkflow River was reopened, that we realized the southern humans hadn't succumbed to Chaos and that our distant kin still lived."
"We had high hopes for the Savior and his Empire to restore the glory of old," Thorgard added. "And to be fair, he succeeded—at least for a time. But there was one problem: he was too short-lived. He reigned as Emperor for only fifty years. I dare say no dwarf high king has ever served a term shorter than three centuries, barring misfortune."
Thunderhold's King Rogmir Ulfsson interjected with a grumble, "And what happened after him? A pack of squabbling fools! Humans are always the same—incapable of producing a few decent, long-lived leaders. Why do they bicker endlessly, with each successor overturning their predecessor's decisions?"
"You don't need to worry about that," Lileath interjected, her playful tone undercutting the dwarves' frustration. "Ryan will live long enough—and be strong enough—to prove otherwise."
"And that's why we've come to meet you, King Ryan," Thorgard said, nodding slightly. "We've heard of your exploits, including the recovery of Karak Eight Peaks. Thorgrimsson speaks highly of you, and we hope that, for once, humans can pursue stability and prosperity instead of incessant chaos and conflict."
"We will," Ryan assured him, though his expression turned grim. "However, as I see it, an even greater storm looms on the horizon. Archaon's invasion was only the beginning."
"I don't know about beginnings or endings," Thorgard shrugged. "What I do know is that we've arrived."
Indeed, they had.
A massive, fifteen-meter-tall meteoric iron gate rumbled open, driven by intricate water-powered mechanisms. The subterranean cavern was suddenly bathed in brilliant light as 500 dwarf crossbowmen and over 100 riflemen stood in formation, awaiting their king's arrival. Flanking the gate were three towering statues of the ancestor gods, each glowing with an otherworldly radiance. Grungni held his hammer and shield, Grimnir glared fiercely with his trimmed Mohawk and beard, and Valaya stood with her shield and axe, her twin braids framing a contemplative expression.
"Oh wow, the statues here are shorter than the ones in Karak Eight Peaks," young Thorgrimsson exclaimed excitedly. "But what's that rune? I don't think I've ever seen it before!"
"Shut your mouth, beardling!" Thorgard scolded. "Or I'll feed you to the carnivorous fish in the depths!"
As they passed through the gate, a sprawling mountain city unfolded before them.
The mountain had been hollowed out, with only the ceiling providing natural light and torches illuminating the rest. The dwarves' mastery of planning and construction was on full display. Dozens of square tunnels divided Karak Vlag into hundreds of blocks, while rune-reinforced walls, adorned with carvings and inscriptions, silently narrated the ancestors' tales. Balconies extending from the ancestral hall offered views of the dining halls, armories, guest chambers, and forges below.
Thorgard clapped his hands, and dozens of long-bearded veterans emerged from the surrounding crowd. The High King laughed heartily and addressed Ryan. "Even if you are a king, Ryan, there are rules you must follow in Karak Vlag."
"What rules?" Ryan raised a hand to calm Morgiana before spreading his arms. "Let me be clear—I won't abide by just any rules."
"It's simple," Thorgard said firmly. "If you want to negotiate trade agreements with us, you must prove your sincerity. There are three tests: first, a test of strength; second, a test of drinking; and third, a test of singing!"
Ryan nodded. "That doesn't sound too difficult. But I need clear standards."
"We won't test your strength; your reputation precedes you," Thorgard chuckled. "And we won't test your singing, as dwarves and humans have different styles. So we'll focus solely on the second test—drinking!"
Two Days Later: The Hall of the Ancestors
Under the golden dome of Karak Vlag's ancestral hall, Thorgard Crimson convened with the other three kings, five clan leaders, a rune master, and an engineering master to discuss the results of the negotiations.
"The facts are clear," began Raven's Nest King Halcon. "This human king is strong, influential, and relatively trustworthy. His fluency in Khazalid, though marked by mountain kingdom accents, made conversing with him far less tedious than with other humans."
"My only concern," said Eagle's Peak King Tyr, crossing his arms, "is his apparent closeness to the elves. Those blasted pointy-ears are never reliable."
"We're trading with Bretonnia, not the elves," countered Thunderhold King Rogmir, stroking his white beard. "And to be fair, some elven goods are quite… impressive. Silks, embroidery
, fine jewelry—who doesn't like those?"
The council unanimously nodded in agreement. Despite their disdain for elves, dwarves had a soft spot for elven luxury items.
The discussion continued for hours. Finally, Thorgard summarized, "Ryan has promised to supply us with abundant grain, meat, fish, textiles, and other essentials. In return, we'll provide him with runic weapons, armor, rare metals, and gemstones. The trade will be centralized at Erengrad, with a select group of merchants handling all transactions."
The council voted on the proposal. With 8 votes in favor and 1 abstention (from the Obolrak clan, who had recently signed a lucrative trade deal with Kislev), the Karak Vlag Exclusive Trade Agreement was ratified. This agreement would not only usher in a new era of prosperity for the Norscan dwarves but also bring unparalleled wealth to the Bretonnian crown.
But that was not the end of the negotiations.
"Now," said Thorgard, "let us address the second matter proposed by King Ryan—the so-called 'Great Evacuation Plan.'"
The council grew somber. The plan, if implemented, would provide contingencies for the dwarves of Karak Vlag to evacuate in the event of another catastrophic siege like the one orchestrated by the late Norscan High King Asavar Kul.
"Let us discuss whether we should prepare for such a retreat—and how it might be executed."
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