When it comes to Paraideisius’ displays of power during the Great War, it almost made me question whether we were a mere afterthought to them. Once one noticed the pattern, it was became difficult to see it as anything but the pattern. When Tartarian Legions engaged in a battle of any notability, then a wise man would put money on the fact that Paraideisius would intervene. It was only for the battles which were little more than brawls that the Angels would decide was not worth their time. Although likewise, brawls would be largely left for us to fight, Tartarus openly admitted to the fact that they could not handle the logistical strain and that their mages are busy to open yet another portal.

It last all the way to end. A new weapon or a new style of using the Choirs to cause more destruction would be revealed, and it would always happen during the greatest battles. A few, myself and Maisara have decided ways to fight against. Other methods though, are simply left perplexed at. It is truly a show of force by the Goddess of War that she can somehow manage to wage this conflict, against such unbeatable odds, and still be devising of ways to try and turn tide. How many times has been defeated at this point? A dozen? Two? The Empire is simply overstretched, they will need to start pulling soldiers from garrisons soon.

And yet no matter what trick Kassandora manages to conjure up, she is still left as a hapless little Goddess. Her sorcerers, although individually strong, simply cannot compete with the raw power exhibited by a Holy Choir. It does not matter whether the voices conjure some great archangel warrior or whether they call upon holy light to smite from the Heavens. Likewise, the massed armies are obviously a display of strength aimed at maintain Tartarus cow.

Yet the greatest show of strength is one that has come recently, and one that inspired me to write this book for I know that a future-me will look upon her own memory with disbelief. We can it the Skyblade although I am certain there is some unproducible garble of letters that actually refers to it. I think our name fits better though, for it is the blade that splits the sky.

– Excerpt from “Documenting the Great War”, written by Goddess Fortia in the final decade and the years immediately after the conflict.

Arascus sat around the first stone of Klavdiv. How old it was, no one really knew. The simple fact of the matter was that dwarves had always inhabited this land, and no matter how far back one decide to stretch the histories, there would forever be some trace of dwarfkind here. Whether it was the place where dwarves originated in was up for debate, but whether it was the oldest settlement of the Underkingdom was undisputed. There would be no one to try and raise argument against Klavdiv being the oldest city under the surface.

And this first stone was the oldest record of Klavdiv to exist. Other Holds would have a formally declared first stone that was definite and certain. Holdmasters would mark it with a swing of the pick when they founded the underground metropolis. In Klavdiv though, the first stone was a rock with a thousand gashes upon it. It was the oldest rock in the entire land. Not tall and not grand. The grey slab reached only to the knees of dwarves, it was practically tiny. And yet a table which was a ring of stone had been carved around it. A round cathedral of a meeting room had been fashioned into the rock to proudly display the oldest artefact of dwarfhood.

The walls of that round room were carved with pictures of the most famous dwarven heroes and lords. Naikav was there, his carving was of kneeling before Arascus as he received the Band of the High King. Around him was a shield which protected him from vicious, snarly demons with sharp teeth and curling claws that tried to encroach upon the two central figures in the carving. The various flags of Holds were hung up, Klavdiv’s right at the start, adjacent to the red-white-black Imperial tricolour. Pictures of picks and of mushrooms and of shields and helmets and forges and cogs and everything in between. Whereas humanity preferred a crest upon colour, the dwarves would have a symbol surrounded by a pale shade that would then be contrasted against a darker colour. There was no exception to the pattern although the symbolism was so obvious even a child should be able to see it; each individual Hold was a light in the dark.

Arascus sat opposite High King Osonev. The dwarf’s court had spent the walk from the main entrance of the royal palace to here doing nothing but introducing themselves. They half-bickered, half-exclaimed at how grand it was that Arascus had come here, and how they were loyal sons of the Empire, and how not once they had actually doubted that Arascus would return eventually and that the only doubt they actually had was whether they would live to see it. The worst part was that Arascus believed them wholeheartedly.

Osonev sat, his face ruined by a burn that had devoured the bottom half of his jaw and a scar underneath his eye. On his right was Runemaster Azald, who lacked an eye. The dwarf did not even have an eyepatch nor some glass diamond to fill the loss. It was just a black hole into his skull. Further was Forgemaster Vizin, a dwarf short and yet twice the size of all the other half-men in the room simply by sheer bulk. His arms looked as if they could mould cold steel into shape and his hands were so hardy that the man looked as if he trained by lifting metal out of the fire. Then there was Treasurer Varnus, whose teeth were on display because his cheek had been torn apart. On the other side of Osonev were High Priest Haskov and Dragonkeeper Imitrov. Both with lacerations, both were so old that they had been given the luxury of being allowed to grow their beards out. And both were pure white.

And that was that. These five men were the ones who ran the day-to-day not of Klavdiv but of the entire Underkingdom. On other the side, there was God Arascus, in his dark uniform outlined in silver and white and gold and with a short red cape. The God of Pride alone represented his Empire.

And there was Iniri by his side. In a dress of dark green and laced with patterns of brown that were like swaying branches upon the fabric. She had come to represent no one and nothing in particular. Now, the time to tend to the Goddesses he was growing was over. Arascus looked from dwarf to dwarf and entirely ignored the Goddess by his side. “It is an honour.” He broke the silence first.

“The honour is ours.” High King Osonev said, his voice a quiet rumble that called forth a resonating echo in this room. The rest of the dwarves repeated the sentiment in their own variations like a backing choir.

“Then we are all honoured to be in each other’s presence.” Arascus said. He leaned forwards and put his hand over the table. “I would like to introduce Iniri too. The Goddess of Nature.”

Iniri smiled and bowed her head. Arascus could see how she was about to tremble and didn’t push her anymore. Frankly, she didn’t need to even say anything, she only needed to show herself. When Arascus had been building her up, she had asked why it was her and not Helenna he had picked. The answer he replied, that it did not matter and that she would do, was a pure lie. Of the deities Arascus could bring, then it had to be Iniri or Maisara or Fortia or Allasaria herself. Elassa would fit too, but those were the Pantheon’s pillars when it came to matters of strength.

The Iniri of today may have been a sad little who shivered and quaked at every demand made upon her, but the Iniri of the past was the Goddess of Nature with a capital N. Some Divines, like Kavaa, could be adapted around when they revealed themselves on the battlefield. Iniri was the sort of Goddess that she always had a contingency planned around her, and men would be sent off as sacrifices to split the Goddess of Nature’s attention from more pressing battles. The Goddess of Nature in the past would wield earthshaking oaks like a blade and she would turn entire forests into armies with a snap of her finger.

The Iniri of today was not that mythical monster, but it did not matter. The dwarves did not know the Iniri of today, they knew the Iniri of the past. And if Arascus had the Goddess of Nature, not even chained but willingly on his side, then the Pantheon must have fallen. And not fallen to irrelevance but rather been so woefully defeated that now their ancient opponents swapped sides. In some way, they weren’t even wrong, it was simply that Allasaria would now be singing her case before Paraideisius. They still had two worlds to defeat. “Hello.” Iniri said after a few moments of pause.

Arascus let the silence hold for a few moments and then he realised it would be all him in this meeting. In some fashion, it was relieving to have a Divine that was a completely submissive pushover. Although it sounded terrible to give credit to, there was a reason why almost every tyrant in the entire history Arda had tried their hardest to find a way to break people. Even Anassa, Kassandora and Fer fell into that category every now and then. “Goddess Iniri of Nature needs no introduction.” Arascus flat out denied reality as he introduced Iniri whilst stating she needed no introduction. “Although I am sure you know who she is.” There, the gazes that looked upon Iniri with awe said that the dwarves had obviously heard of Iniri.

“We do.” Dragonkeeper Imitrov said.

“I will report upon my own situation first then.” Arascus said as he extended his arms as if to pretend he was working with some sort of good faith. “Epa has fallen in its entirety and Arika will soon be conquered. In terms of the Pantheon, only the major Forces and Allasaria remain still. Goddess Iniri, Goddess Kavaa and Goddess Helenna are now Imperial Divine. Goddess Leona, of Luck, is dead. God Atis is dead also. Goddesses Maisara and Fortia are teetering on the cliff of loyalty to the Mountain.” The list of names was obviously impressive, but it was impressive only insofar as another’s achievement could be looked upon with admiration. It was obvious that the dwarves had no clue how to react to what they just heard. “In regards to the future, I currently have against in Karaina and we will move on Guguo soon after.”

The mention of the ancient country finally brought about some reaction from the dwarves. It was Forgemaster Vizin. The dwarf crossed his arms, smiled and nodded to no one in particular before he spoke. “That will be good.” His voice sounded as if it was reserved for declarations only and not speech. “There are many Holds the cultivators have stolen from us.”

“They are unsettled.” Arascus said. “From basic reports, only a few in the very centre of Guguo have actually been habituated, although those were mountaintop Holds even back in the Great War.”

“Half-holds at best.” Osonev scoffed. Good to see that the innate superiority complex and the disdain towards surface-dwellers had not been wiped away even after so much time.

Arascus ignored the fact someone had interrupted him to correct him. It wasn’t important and frankly, there was nothing to gain from getting the dwarf to admit he was wrong. He merely continued giving his report. “From what we can discover, there is no evidence that they venture into the tunnels below Guguo. One hold has been publicly closed off from the underground, but that is all the information I can give on such issues.”

“One hold is nothing.” Forgemaster Vizin bellowed.

“Aye, we have just received news Hold after Hold in Epa is being clawed open again.” Treasurer Varnas added.

“That is largely everything to do with the surface.” Arascus said. “We have minor details to cover, but those can be saved for later meetings.”

“What is it you wish to discuss then?” High King Osonev asked. “For we have nothing to offer when it comes to the surface.”

No. The dwarves did not and Arascus would not just utterly humiliate them by asking to take their sons and daughters to the lands above in order to give up their homes and seek refuge. Besides, if there was ever a way to drive this proud people out of the Empire, it was that. “Do you know about the invasion from the south?” Arascus asked, that was the first big point of policy.

The dwarves all shared looks. It was obvious that they were surprised Arascus knew already. Osonev nodded after a few moments. “Aye, we do, two dozen holds are under threat before Tartarus has found a way into the North-South Epa-Arika highway.”

“And do you know about Imperial Forces there?” The dwarves all shared looks. The answer came quicker this time.

“I am disappointed to admit that we have been getting reports of victories, but we have thought them myth and preparing defences in more defensible chokepoints.”

Frankly, Arascus could not even blame them, if it was Kassandora in their position, she would do the exact same. “Halt the retreats and fortify the Holds.” Arascus said. “Kassandora is retaking Ruka right now, after that, she will march south.”

Osonev put an army out onto the ring table fashioned of stone. Everything here fashioned of stone, even the lights that faintly illuminated the room were stone of the glowing variety. “We are still unaware of where the breach is.”

“We will find it.” Every prediction said the same thing, which was that the breach was going to be caused by a ravine created when Elassa tore Arika apart. That was a problem created by the Empire, it was only right that the Empire cleaned up its own mess. It had been Arascus’ mistake for letting Kassandora work entirely under her own authority. “And we will close it.”

How it would be closed was another idea entirely. Arascus would not allow Elassa to shove a continent a second time. But that was an issue to sit with other Divines and figure out, not for him to make a grand declaration here. Arascus got to the other issues he wanted to illustrate here, although it was a large back and forth between himself and the dwarves where one would ask a question, it would be answered, and then the other party would ask.

Klavdiv still had working forges, as did a few more of the other Core Holds of the Underkingdom. Retooling them was possible, although it would be difficult. The original plan had been to use the machine dwarven industry to produce modern military vehicles. The way they equipped most of their own troops was through scavenging and repairing old pieces of armour or recasting pikes. Likewise, trying to restart the mining operations of the Underkingdom without the assistance of Great-War era golems was impossible. For now, it looked like Kirinyaa would remain the king of Imperial resource extraction.

“The Imperial Bureaus will provide recompensation.” Arascus said as he brought out a document from his coat. “In the convoy, we have brought thousands of items from the surface, inspect them and say what will be most helpful.” The things that Arascus knew would be useful, such as lightbulbs and batteries, were already being stockpiled in huge quantities in Doschia. Lubskan foodstuffs were also being bought, and their breweries for beer and vodka had just received such massive subsidies that every town would soon start to produce its own drink. The dwarven stuff was vile, and the dwarves knew it was vile themselves.

Transport routes were organised and four holds in Doschia, two in Rancais, two in Rilia and three in southern Lubska were chosen as locations to be resettled. A whole host of minor problems was handled, which language to use, how lighting the Highway system with electrical lamps would need to suffice until the World-Core was active again. But some questions did need asking: “In regards to the lowest levels.” Arascus said. “In Klavdiv, how hard would it be to restart the elevators here?” There were staircases, but it was miles of stairs and there wasn’t a vehicle with wheel or tread that would appreciate such a trip.

“If we can change the system over to this electricity you talk of.” Forgemaster Vizin said. “There would be no problem with the system itself.” It was obvious that the dwarf was not too happy with the idea though.

“What is the issue?” Arascus asked. All heads turned to Osonev.

And the High King replied with the sort of authority that High Kings should have. He was reporting terrible news, and he simply reported it with a flat tone and no coyness or shame or feeling sorry for a mistake. “We flood the Deeps to protect Klavdiv.” Osonev said dryly.

“Tartarus has access to the Deeps?” Arascus asked. That shouldn’t have happened. The Deeps were a closed network of tunnels between the most important Holds, and they were the way in which one could access the World Core.

“Tartarus did.” Osonev said. “Hopefully we flushed them out. One of the flooded Alanktydan Highways was tunnelled to.”

“So you flooded the World-Core?” Arascus asked. The dwarves all looked around at each other.

“The chamber itself should still be safe, but the entrance in would be submerged, yes. As are the Deeps of the other Core Holds.” Osonev said in that dry voice of responsibility. Arascus sat there for a moment as he considered the reactions of everyone in the room. Iniri was obviously looking at them with confusion as to how they could do such a thing, but the dwarves stared back with a dry look. Honestly, Arascus was impressed. There were not many who could say something like that with such a straight face as if it was nothing more than an annoying problem to solve.

“Very well.” Arascus said. That was a big delay, but this is why information was important. “You’ll hear from Kassandora and Malam, we’ll want plans and maps of the area. Of the Deeps, of everything that you have access to.”

“It shall be done.” Osonev replied.

“And the elevator will still work? Even submerged?”

“A millennium for our bronze is like a mere second for your steel. It will work. There is not even the faintest sign of corrosion. The waters themselves are toxic, so nothing grows either. They are clear but undrinkable.”

What a group of men. They certainly had their priorities straight. Why was he learning they were toxic now? Iniri spoke for him, finally. “The waters are toxic? As in poisoned?” She asked and then looked to Arascus. “Kavaa could heal them.” No. No she could not. Arascus had realised how the moment the dwarfs said it, frankly, he should have just assumed they were deadly from the start.

This time, it was High Priest Haskov who spoke. “During the flooding, we were worried of the waters being drained. We left the storehouses full. They’re not diseased, they’re poisoned with mercury and lead and cinnabar and a thousand different acids.”

“Oh.” Iniri said.

“Are they acidic?” Arascus asked.

“Slightly. Not enough to devour dwarfbronze though.”

“I was asking for human steel or aluminium.” Arascus said. Potentially, they could send submarines in there if the opening was large enough.

“We cannot answer that question.” Treasurer Varnas replied. “It will have to be tested.”

“It will be tested.” Arascus said.

Well, that was one headache not out of the way, but at least tended to for the immediate time-being. “I thank you for your openness and honesty.” Arascus said. “We will meet again, of course, but I will set about bringing the hammer of Empire down onto Tartarus.” He stood up and Osonev shook his head,

“There will come a time when my descendants sneer at the breaking of secrecy or the ignorance of hierarchy, but we have lost too much.” He said. “Do not thank us my Emperor, but understand that we are not an honest people, we are a desperate people.”

“We are both desperate then.” Arascus said. “But all I can ask is that your desperation is not that of a cornered rat but of a starving tiger ready to slaughter a hundred bears.” Osonev thought about the words for a few moments.

“I like that.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep