The events of the 11th of Hematite, 1069
Summer announced itself with a bang; the normal sweltering temperatures now totally unbearable. Time outdoors should be kept to a minimum, though for some - the majority of the masons and the blacksmiths were forced by Aryn's law to toil in the quarry. Though they did as told, the grumblings and discontent were at an all time high. Few were willing to suffer quietly when they felt as if they were melting, the majority of the laborers sun burnt and disenfranchised with their Great Glass Savior.
The military, by contrast, had never been in higher spirits. The only time they spent outside was just after dusk, the majority heading over to Dodik's for drinks, shows and laughter. With the hordes of camels uncharacteristically light, with the greenskins absent for months, they spent the mornings training lazily, or occasionally shirking their duties all together - a habit Major Merkil was willing to overlook for the hot season.
Some spent their time talking to Sulari in the mess, the Woodcutter's laugther infectuous. Adol spent his time hunting down Maggarg and routing him from wherever he had taken to hiding, or returning small trinkets to their owners rooms where his friend had been the previous night. Some dwarves read and socialized. Some, like Varen, visited their loved ones.
He sat outside of the shops with his fiance Meng, letting the cold air sucked out from the fortress by the magma pits keep them cool. Their legs dangled from the edge. They held hands, and smiled, sipping from a bottle of wine Meng had grifted from the larder. The pair was silent, but they didn't need to talk - they were content to just be in each others company.
"Ha ha ha, look at THAT!" a slurred voice called from behind them, harshly breaking their moment. "A pair of love birds! Adorable!"
"Stravitch, a pleasant surprise..." Varen said. He was nervuos, and he gave Meng's hand a quick squeeze. "It's been a while since, ah, I talked to you last."
"Yeah it has, but you know what? It doesn't matter, I've had you replaced."
Unexpectedly, Varen felt a small twinge of regret at those words. Though he was harassed constantly, and his training hampered as he was forced to accompany the old goat to the Dodik's, how harmful had he really been?
"I'm sorry about that, sir. Perhaps with your retirement we could," what am I saying he thought in horror, but his mouth kept running, "get a drink sometime."
"Aye ya', perhaps after church services tonight. You'll be there." It was not a question.
"I don't worship Lenod," Varen said, but Akim Akimurist."
"And?"
"...and I don't worship Lenod, sir."
"And?"
"And I won't be there!" he snapped.
Stravitch glared at him, before shrugging. "Fine, but at least sit through confessional."
"Sir," Varen said wearily. "We don't have those. Our confessional is the field of battle, or church services are at the victory pyres. I have nothing that needs confessing."
"What? That's not what this is about. This is about me, damn it." Stravitch's voice dropped conspiratorially. "That idiot-child, Grov. I booted him into the magma, from that spot you're sitting in."
The pair's horror was immediately evident, and Stravitch laughed. "What does it matter, though? There must be hundreds of the little beasts running around here now."
"How much have you had to drink? That's attro- wait. I saw Grov just an hour ago, eating dried apples."
"Aye ya', 'cause there are more of him."
"There can't be more of him," Meng finally spoke. "There are only one of any of us. Are there more of you, sir, because you think there are?"
"It's a different situation entirely. You know what? Fine, you two wait here. I'm going to go get myself a Grov or two and pitch them into the damned magma, and show you."
Stravitch lumbered off, swaying into the wall as he tried to round the corner. Varen waited until he was out of earshot, before saying quietly, "We should leave, I don't want to be here when he comes back."
"That's an excellent idea," Meng replied, scooping up their bottle of wine.