The Events of the 5th of Felsite, 1073
With as much pomp and swagger as four feet of sweat soaked, dirt caked Dwarf could muster, Duke Fikod Boarddistance stepped over the bridge and into the Fortress in the Wastes.
The Dwarven lands of Stukos Matul were in turmoil now -- the Queen Risen had left no heir behind at the Great Fortress, and her brothers were left to squabble for power over the throne. It had just become worse over the years, with bandits on the roads and pirates at the sea, and armies of Dwarves fighting Dwarves in the mountains. The Hammerers, once great beacons of Justice, had turned their trade as Sell-Smiths, shaping the flesh of those that hurt their noble charges. Fikod brought with him one such Sell-Smith, Pulleybridge, from back at his home court. He had also brought his mistress with him, the dumpy Martyrbooks. He didn't like her particularly much, in fact, on the long journey east he had grown to despise her, but it would be unseemly to travel without female companionship and he adored his wife too much to risk her life coming out here on what, he was quite sure, would be a fruitless venture.
He saw Dwarves scurrying about, rushing as fast as they could to hurl rocks over the side of the cliff and into the magma below. Others, the majority of them, were carrying large glass blocks, their sweat fingers leaving prints all along their smooth sides. He stared in complete confusion at the sight before him. Eventually, he hollered at a crooked-back Dwarf heaving a great boulder into the magma.
"You! Servent! Grab a few of your kin and fetch my bags!"
Cokho Roknut stared back at him for a minute, before wheezing out an old man laugh. "I s'pect your the next Duke?"
"Quite right," he said, puffing out his chest," and I need my bags fetched and brought to my room."
"He s'pects he'll need a room!" Cokho crowed. Slapping himself on the knee, he turned and limped off towards his next assignment - more rocks.
"I apologize, sir, for his rudeness," Rice said, to the Duke's right. He stood there, his cap in his hands, his beloved Lucy beside him. They both offered friendly smiles, even as the Duke's brow narrowed in suspicion.
"And you are...?"
"I was the Mayor, when this Fort was new. Now, my love and I are simple laborers, scraping by. I saw you as I worked, and felt I needed to come warn you, sir."
"Warn me of what!" he snapped. "Of the rudeness of your citizens? I was warned back home that this is the wild frontier, but I was not prepared for what I see before me."
"I need to warn you," Rice said, "That we've had five Hammers die during their stay here, and four Dukes, and the Queen herself. Most of these were not accidents, sir, I am sad to say. There are evil men skulking in the sands, and there are evil men skulking within our walls, hungry for power."
Lucy gave a nod of agreement. "I doubt Rice would be here today if he hadn't been voted out of power early on. Now he's seen as wise by the workers, and a non-threat by the rulers. I fear to think how he would have been treated if Aryn's struggle had grown this much back then."
The Duke's features softened when he realized these Dwarves were giving him an honest warning. He glanced back at the bustling Fort, and spread his hands in question. "Then what do I do?"
"Keep your head low," Lucy advised, "And don't make too many demands. I know you're used to comfort back home, but here, it's becoming harder to find."
"But I came for an army," The Duke protested. "I came for battle-hardened warriors, and for capital to fund them! The Dwarven Empire is in a schism, and this is... this is a prime opportunity to take it for ourselves."
Rice and Lucy exchanged a look. There was a lot said in that simple glance; Duke Fikod didn't like what he saw.
"You can ask around," Rice said, "Some may be interested in joining you -- most came here for Riches or Glory. But be careful, Aryn's grip is strong, and he's obsessed in completing his project. I'd be very wary if you start taking money from it, or manpower."
"This utter nonsense could be quelled by a few nights in chains," The Hammerer advised.
"Perhaps it's best we see the conditions here first," The Duke said, morosely. "To better assess how to get what we need. Could I trouble you to get our bags?" He added as a hopeful afterthought.
Rice smiled. "I"m sorry, but I don't have the time. If you head down the stairs though, you can find the General Berth a few levels down; I don't think the last Duke had time to unpack his things so I think your room should still be mostly bare."