4th Moonstone, 32
Dear Diary,
There is an old saying which applies here; "There's no labour like slave labour." Granted, slavery is illegal so like so many of my predecessors in settling I've gone to the prison for 'volunteers'. In particular, there is an inmate with a very specialised skill set that could be of use, given how deep we're planning to dig.
The cell door swung open with a heavy groan of protesting steel. Aramco looked up from his knitwork at the dwarf who entered and sniffed disapprovingly.
"Military stance, heavy build, don't quite look aimless enough to be a guard," he mumbled. "They finally decided to go ahead with the execution?"
"Ah, pardon?" Derm asked.
"You're the new Hammerer, right?" said Aramco.
"Sorry to disappoint you," chuckled Derm, "but you're not dying today. Aramco Sandalpage?"
"Who's asking?" said Aramco, returning to his knitting.
"Captain Derm Dwellingwheel. If you don't mind, what are you in for anyway?"
Aramco shrugged. "Mandate."
"Ah. Pitfall of a thousand dwarves. Didn't complete the full order?" Aramco shook his head.
"Oh no, I did. Only the one axe, adamantine of course. Brought it to the Baron, he said it wasn't sharp enough. I took the liberty to intimately familiarise him with the edge and here I am."
"Fair enough. I understand you were at Bladewets before it all went to hell. Hell, in fact, is rather the issue here."
Aramco's knitting needles paused. Then he began knitting again, slowly enough that Derm could hear each individual click. Click. Click. Click.
"They're trying it again, aren't they?" Aramco said eventually. "Digging down for the adamantine."
"Rather worse than that," said Derm, holding out the map. Aramco took it and glanced it over.
"Ocean, Forest, Desert. Yeah, I've heard about them. Forest's your best bet if you ever plan on seeing other dwarves again. And yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I will come with you. That was what you were after, wasn't it?"
"Thought you'd have had enough of all that, Aramco."
"Really?" Aramco looked up and smirked. "So why are you going, soldier-boy?"
Derm frowned and averted his gaze. "I've been commanded to by the king."
"Bollocks. I won't doubt the command, but the reason? You're a soldier, and we haven't had a scap in thirty years. You want to go for the same reason I do. The thrill." Aramco's smirk spread into an open-mouthed grin. "I mean, I've seen thrill enough to last a lifetime, but damn if it doesn't a pull, eh? We both want it. We want to live, to face more than your drab life of guard duty, or my drab existence in this cell."
Aramco watched Derm, waiting for a response. One was not forthcoming.
"So come on," he said. "Sign my release, my custody, whatever. Get me out of here and I'll help you dig down to Hell itself."
Derm faltered for a moment, then drew some papers and a pencil from his jacket. He handed them to the inmate, who snatched them hungrily.
"Sign here."