The events of the 10th of Hematite, 1065
The council met in Aryn's room, and before everyone had fully gathered it was already filled with the din of voices shouting, of the concerns of the members - outside of Duke Bomrek's silent wife, who sat in the corner nursing the first living child out of four pregnancies, a sickly looking son.
"Where the hell is Wavepaddles?" Aryn shouted, banging his fist on the table. "Where is she, huh?"
"Suffering from a broken arm, sir," Glacies said morosely. He was leaning back in a chair chewing on a pencil, flipping through his ledgers. "She took out a herd of Dread Camels by Dodik's, and has decided to skip this meeting to nurse the wound."
"Unacceptable!" Aryn banged his fist down again, "Look, you know what's acceptable? A group of Dwarves who set out into the deserts, who got all kinds of banged up from some reanimated bug with a poisonous stinger. You know what isn't? Some armored bitch with a hammer as big as she is who gets a little booboo from a dusty pile of bones. Get her in here!"
As Crowpages, rolling her eyes, turned to the door, the heavy wood pushed open and Akroma and Dojango stepped in, proceeding the limping, ancient Bertrand. They stayed flanking him as he moved forward towards the head of the table, though he didn't take a seat, deciding to stand at attention, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips.
"Just what the hell did you think you were doing, with that stunt?" Aryn said, eyes narrowing to little slits.
"I'm demonstrating a miracle. I'm putting the energies, the forces that are all around us to a positive use, to try and make this land the stunning oasis, the life-giving forest, that it was in the past, before the goblin hordes came and destroyed everything here that was good, and just, and right."
"Your last efforts at playing with these forces left a lot of Dwarves dead," Glacies said as he looked up from his ledgers. "And left a lot of armor to keep tally of," he added quietly, under his breath.
"My last efforts," Bertrand said, a touch of annoyance creeping into his voice, "were misguided. I admit to that, but the theory - the understanding of these forces living in the sands, that are bringing back life - all kinds of life - don't have to be wrong, or evil.
"Look outside, do you see what I did by the magma vents? There's grass, and flowers! The first that's grown here in ages! Do you know where I got it? From the elven merchants that were here, from pollen, and seeds off the meager amounts of cloth we purchased, from scraps I've taken from the storerooms, from the dregs you - all of you - were planning to throw away."
"Your a mad man. A fool," Aryn said, shaking his head. "I forbid this. No more, just go sit in your hut Bertrand, and milk the system. I'll allow that, this once, for you, to keep you out of trouble, to keep you from holding up my productions."
"Mr. Estetar," Bertrand said, lips spreading into a wide smile. "I seem to remember being the only one who didn't mock you as you left the Mountain Homes with wagons of plump helmet, and rope reed, and spider silk, and taking it to the Elven marauders. I seem to remember you bucked all convention, and it may be - it just may be - that the uneasy peace we've had for so long? Is in no small part to your actions. Your actions that got you kicked out of the country of Nish Neth, that has had you listed as a blood traitor, and war criminal, despite the lives you saved, and all the good you did. There's a reason I came to your fortress instead of any of the others, and not just because of these mystical sands. It's because I thought you were a man who understood being mocked while being right."
The room had gone deathly silent, all eyes slowly turning to look at Aryn Estetar. His frame, lanky and tall, was slouched in the chair, his eyes turned down towards the table. His face was drawn tight, shoulders and hands trembling with surprised raise. Glacies pushed his chair back a few inches, then a few more, adding more distance between himself and his boss.
"Go," He said hoarsely, "Get to your lab, do your damned work. But the second, the very second, that Glacies comes to me and says productions are halted because the miners and masons and architects are helping you, the second I hear of more deaths because of your actions, I'm going to cut your old heart out of your chest myself and feed it to my bear. Get out, all of you! GET OUT! And forget EVERYTHING that Gorgeinsights has said today. GO!"
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Topic: Migrursut: What Comes After The World Ends? [Epilogue] (A Community Fort) (Read 389337 times)