Chapter 186: Severing Ties

Toren Daen

We stepped into the cavern, the transition from morning light to glaring darkness leaving me slightly cold. I immediately missed the open sky as rock stretched overhead, blotting out freedom.

I think Aurora is rubbing off on me more than I thought, I mused as I stepped after Seris as she strode with purpose into the bowels of her hideout.

"Or perhaps," my bond thought back, "You simply see the truth of things. We should not be caged underground, Toren. The sky is ours."

I sighed lightly. There was something amazing about an open sky that I'd only begun to appreciate upon coming to this world.

"Considering the fact that Elder Rahdeas has been compromised," Seris' pure voice echoed in front of me, "It is high time we changed locations for this hideout. I will be organizing our planned route shortly."

I nodded. Arthur had pinpointed exactly where our base was. It was about time we moved. 

"And you will escort Lance Olfred to the dwarven leaders," Seris said, turning over her shoulder to look at me. "If he refuses to follow my orders, perhaps he will be more amenable to those of his father, if far removed."

A ways behind me, Olfred stiffened from the callout.

"I can do that," I said, nodding. I raised a hand imbued with mana, brushing it against the symbol of Named Blood Daen on my mask. In a moment, my armor and mask reverted back to their pendant form. "When I'm done, do you want me to report back to you?"

"You have your own subordinates to organize, Lord Daen," Seris said dismissively. "That will be your task."

I blinked in confusion. "The dwarves I work with aren't my subordinates," I said slowly.

"Lusul of Named Blood Hercross was appointed to his position by you," Seris said, her pristine lips twisting into a wry smile. "He–and by extension, his unit–are under your command now. Are you going to avoid taking responsibility for your actions, Lord Daen?" the Scythe asked, looking at me through silver lashes that could split light. "I thought you a better man than that."

I noted her particular wording with uncertainty, coughing into my fist. She did enjoy her wordplay. "No, Seris. I'll make sure everyone is organized and ready for evacuation," I said, moving forward. The Scythe's onyx eyes trailed me until the twisting corridors blocked her from my sight.

Olfred followed behind me mutely, a quiet irritation simmering across his intent. That emotion quieted my own, centering them on the task ahead. As we walked, Alacryans and dwarves alike stopped to stare at us. The reactions were mixed, to say the least: some of the dwarves looked on with pride as their Lance strode behind me. Others with contempt.

"You'll probably be put in charge of the dwarven rebellion here," I said absently to the Lance behind me. "Or have to work aside Jotilda Shintstone."

Olfred's lips flattened with dissatisfaction. "That old bat is here?" he asked. "Shoulda known that. But I'm not a part of her rebellion, so I won't be leading anything."

I looked back at the dwarf with a raised brow. "You literally built a bunker for Alacryans and tried to help assassinate Lance Arthur," I said, my skepticism radiating from my voice. "That puts you squarely within rebellion."

Olfred puffed out his chest, staring at me as we continued to walk. "I answer only to Rahdeas, Daen," he said irritably. "His orders were to deal with the boy cleanly and to clear out that cavern. I never performed any action of rebellion."

I snorted, turning back around. "Well, that's a matter of perspective," I said. "Perhaps you never held true loyalty to the Greysunders and their regime, but you've been made an accomplice regardless of what you want. Rahdeas is the figurehead of this rebellion, and his capture will be seen as a major blow." I sighed. "Or maybe he'll be a martyr of some sort. I don't know."

"Elder Rahdeas won't be killed," Olfred said behind me, a note of anger in his voice. "Even if the Council captures him, they can't afford to execute him. It would be foolish to do so."

I walked into the large dwarven cavern at last, ruminating on the dwarven Lance's words. Were this war like any other, he'd be right that the largest source of danger came from the Dicathians Rahdeas had betrayed and spied on.

But Agrona didn't view his dwarven 'allies' as anything more than a number on a board. I remembered his callous words to Arthur, in a time yet to come and a time long past.

Do you mourn for the ants you step on?

Rahdeas would be ended by infiltration into the castle by some of Agrona's operatives, killed by the activation of a spell hidden deep within the dwarven elder's body.

Though if Seris and I get our way, that will never come to pass, I thought.

"You can only hope, Olfred," I said. "You can only hope."

Jotilda marched to the front of the groups of dwarves, her face showing a modicum of shock as she spotted Olfred. She smoothed her features over quickly, however, approaching me as the dwarves slowly gathered behind her.

"What have ya done now, Alacryan?" Jotilda said quickly, the aged dwarven woman looking between Olfred and me. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for the Lance to be here?"

I sighed, then lowered my voice. "Rahdeas' status as a spy has been discovered," I said quietly, making sure the other dwarves couldn't hear me. "He's likely been taken prisoner. I just saved Lance Olfred from a rather unfortunate end from one of his former Lance comrades after a failed ambush attempt on Lance Godspell. So believe me when I tell you he wouldn't be here unless he needed to."

Elder Jotilda's eyes widened progressively with each word I said, and she seemed to have to visibly control herself. "We always knew it was a possibility," she said quietly. "I'm assumin' we're changing locations now?"

Olfred chose that moment to step forward. "Where are your baths, Elder Jotilda?" he said gruffly, clearly still irritated about Seris' manipulations. His clothes were covered in cuts and scrapes, and the man looked ready to boil over. "I need a place to cool off before I drop this cavern on the Alacryans' heads."

I glared at the man as Jotilda directed the Lance toward the bathhouses, my ire raised by his willingness to threaten those close to me. That washed away slightly as Lusul rushed forward, then stood at military rest.

"Reporting, sir," he said stiffly, his almost-pink eyes staying locked on the wall behind me. "I heard you had returned and thought it necessary to check in."

At least some things are going my way, I thought. "Thank you, lieutenant. I don't know if you've been briefed yet, but Scythe Seris has placed you under my direct command."

The young man–still a boy, really–stiffened nervously at the mention of Seris. His rigid posture broke for a moment as he looked at me uncertainly.

"We're going to be evacuating these tunnels," I said, addressing both Elder Shintstone and the young son of Named Blood Hercross. There were protocols in place that were prepared for this sort of eventuality, so I hoped the going would be smooth. "This location has been compromised. Lusul, gather up your men and have them ready to depart as quickly and as orderly as you can." I turned to Jotilda, the short dwarven elder's face pinched with a dark emotion. "I suppose you probably have your own protocols for this, Elder Jotilda," I said. "I'd recommend engaging them."

Lusul saluted–maybe a bit too animatedly–before he bounded off the way he'd come, determination and resolve in his steps.

"He is eager to prove himself," Aurora said. "He knows his direct appointment to your command by the woman you court is significant, though I suspect he doesn't know how."

I nodded in internal agreement, before turning back to the dwarven elder. She hadn't moved yet, even as the dwarves all around shuffled at the commotion, clearly sensing something in the air.

She appeared to be considering something, scrutinizing me behind bushy gray brows. "While we dwarves are more than capable," she huffed lowly, "Perhaps you could use that telekinesis magic of yours to assist us in packing away our things. It would make things go a lot faster. A win for both you and me, Lord Daen," she said, sounding as if she were making an excuse.

I recognized what this was quickly. An olive branch. The dwarven elder hadn't been very cordial or respectful to me despite my efforts, and I suspected the word 'sorry' wasn't in her vocabulary. But this was exactly the kind of opportunity I needed to soothe relations between the Alacryans and dwarves in this cavern.

"I'd be more than happy to," I said, nodding with a slight smile. "Anything in particular suited for my talents?"

Jotilda turned, marching toward one of the many twisting cavern pathways. "Aye, just give me a moment, Daen," she said gruffly, but not unkindly.

As I followed after the dwarven elder, she barked out orders in a booming bass voice to the cavern. While Lusul was covert and diligent with his task, Jotilda ordered everyone she came across to pack up their things and prepare to march. The dwarves were surprisingly receptive to the blunt message, cursing back at Jotilda as they complied.

I watched the movement with a raised brow, genuinely surprised at the efficiency.

"What're you gawking at, Daen?" Jotilda huffed.

"Just surprised everything's going so smoothly," I admitted. "I can imagine a hundred ways this could go wrong, but it's not."

"Been like this since the Greysunders," the dwarven woman scoffed. "The people of Darv learned to look to each other and work together because their king and queen certainly wouldn't. Greedy bastards fleeced us for all we were worth." She paused. "Rahdeas is good, though. A true voice for us dwarves. I trust him more than I trust any man."

I worked my jaw at the woman's words. "What are you going to do now that he's been captured?" I said quietly. "If you built your rebellion on his back, then won't this cripple your movement?"

Jotilda's footsteps stomped with barely contained mana as they impacted the earth. "The Triunion Council are a bunch of hypocrites," she sneered. "Proclaiming they're for the betterment of all Dicathen. But it's led by an elf, and there are three human Lances. And when the Greysunders were removed for consorting with you Alacryans, they only put Elder Rahdeas in charge. Only one dwarf! A single representative, while the other races got two. How is that fair to us? And the dwarven Lance artifacts were never even granted to the new representative. Elder Rahdeas never had the same standing as the other councilmembers, no matter how they liked to make it seem."

The dwarven elder turned to look at me, fire in her eyes. "It was clear from the start to me what the Triunion Council–or better yet, Sapin and Elenoir–thought of us dwarves. Always lower; always smaller. They thought us unworthy of an equal position on their little circle jerk."

Jotilda spat into the yawning cavern beside us as she turned around. "Elder Rahdeas isn't the backbone of our rebellion, Daen," she said with fire. "Our backbone has been built strong from all the beating and abuse it's taken over the decades. The loss of Rahdeas only serves to prove our cause just."

The plate-armored woman stomped forward, seeming to forget that she wanted me to do something in her boiling rage.

Internally, however, I was awash with thoughts. My first instinct was to tell the dwarven elder that the dwarves had been traitors to the council. That the placement of only one representative was a justified action due to the lack of trust.

But I thought of the history of Earth as I plodded along mutely behind the elder. The American Revolution was built using underrepresentation as the major driving force. Furthermore, it could be argued that one of the sparks of World War 2 was lit by the perceived humiliation of the Germans from the Treaty of Versailles.

Time and time again, history showed that punishing enemies as the Dicathian council did for the dwarves led to more conflict. With the benefit of an outside perspective, I could see this and make logical assumptions regarding it.

It was easy to see that the situation of the dwarven rebellion was far more complicated than it first seemed. The catch-all denigration of 'traitor' was clearly reductionary in its use.

I spent the next couple of hours helping the dwarves with their evacuations where I could. Carrying heavy loads, sending messages, and the like.

By the end of it all, it appeared as if a hurricane had blown through underground, leaving a ghost town in its wake. I was finishing up helping Gruhnd–who I still couldn't understand–pull something from the front of his little barrack.

"So…" I said awkwardly as I held what looked an awful lot like the skull of some sort of beast, "Do you have anywhere you want me to put this?"

The bushy-bearded dwarf raised up his arms, saying something unintelligible. We'd gotten by on a vague mix of hand gestures and body language, and this one was thankfully easy to guess.

I set the taxidermied skull into the burly dwarf's arms. It must have weighed at least fifty pounds, but the dwarf carried it without a sweat. He said something vaguely affirmative as he hefted the large skull.

"Don't worry about it," I said, wiping my brow. I guessed he was saying something vaguely like 'thank you.' 

Gruhnd nodded, the skull in his arms larger than his own, then turned on his feet. He strode away, whistling a tune I didn't recognize.

"Is this all you do all day, Daen?" a familiar voice muttered from nearby. "Move crates and carry messages? It seems beneath one of your strength."

I turned to see Olfred leaning against a nearby wall. The dwarf had cleaned himself up significantly and was wearing a dark tunic and mud-colored slacks instead of his earlier getup. I personally thought the rugged attire fit the dwarf more.

"It isn't," I said, shoving my hands in my pockets as I turned to face the former Lance.

Olfred's brow furrowed. "Isn't all you do, or isn't beneath your strength?"

"Both," I replied walking over and leaning against the same wall. "We've got so many mages who can do the work of ten men, and instead of actually contributing, they sit back and watch everyone else slave away. It isn't exactly fair. And my official designation by Seris is an ambassador to Darv. The first point of contact between dwarf and Alacryan."

The dwarven Lance looked me up and down. "And I suppose Alacrya is far better than Dicathen in that regard, is it?"

I watched as Elder Jotilda directed a couple of earth mages far below in collapsing a few buildings I suspected were considered key bits of infrastructure, likely to block any Dicathians from retrieving important knowledge when they came scouring through here eventually.

My mind flashed to East Fiachra, the state of utter disrepair and disregard they'd faced. And from what I'd learned, Fiachra was better off than most cities. In Aensgar, I'd heard that those unable to pay their own way were cast out from the city or corralled into servitude that would last a lifetime.

And because Sehz-Clar was more humane–under Scythe Seris' covert policy changes–we were called soft souths by others.

"Not better," I said. "Just a different kind of problem. When one in five people is a mage and each mage can do the work of ten people alone, who wants to hire a nonmage?" I said pointedly, staring into Olfred's eyes. "And if you do hire a nonmage, why should you pay them a livable wage? They're only able to do ten percent of your other employees. Pay them ten percent instead to make it reasonable."

Olfred's hands clenched where he held them over his chest. "And would you rather that be our problem eventually, too? Do you think you Alacryans have it easier than us dwarves?"

The way he said it was strange. Like he was genuinely asking the question, though there was an undercurrent of something more.

I shook my head. "I can't honestly compare, Olfred," I said with a sigh. "But I'll say there are many on both continents who struggle for the basic freedoms of survival. That hasn't changed." I looked at the Lance. "Speaking of what problems we face, what do you plan to do moving forward?"

I didn't know what I expected, but it wasn't for the dwarf's shoulders to slump and him to thump his head against the back of the wall. A grim, quiet silence overtook him. "I am grateful to you for saving my life, Daen, but you should know there isn't much time left. I don't have any plans moving forward."

I blinked in surprise. "Surely you've got something," I prodded, sensing the morose quiet in Olfred's intent. "Rahdeas is still alive. If you're worried about what I said earlier about the elder being in danger, know that it shouldn't be a problem."

The older man laughed humorlessly. "That's not what this is about." He tapped his chest with a meaty palm. "I'm bound to the Lance artifact. The moment Lance Arthur and Aya reach the Council, all it will take is Lord Aldir–the asura assigned to our unit–activating the artifact's restrictions, and I'll be dead."

Olfred's words splashed against me like cold water. Not so much the words themselves, but the emotions within. The Lance was truly expecting to die soon, and he'd just… accepted it.

I'd never thought of the situation from this angle, because I knew Aldir would be forcefully withdrawn from Dicathen after a failed assault on Taegrin Caelum. The three-eyed pantheon asura would never get the chance to activate the Lance artifact.

But then my interaction with Aya–more specifically, the tether between her artifact and her heart–came to the forefront of my mind.

I reached a hand out, then laid it on Olfred's shoulder. He seemed nonplussed by the contact, but I needed to impress the reality of my words. I looked the dwarf in the eyes, pulling him from his melancholy.

"Olfred," I said slowly, "If you are worried about the tether around your heart, I might be able to fix that."