"General Verlcon Korva, I thank you for summoning Versum Brigaton with such haste. I understand concerns about leaving the Thali'ean Fiefdom border, but I assure you, these efforts will not be wasted. I have ordered Versum to assist our troops in the Hiplose Woods.
Two weeks ago, the Altaerrie launched a major offensive against the 3rd Group, 55th Order, and the remnants of the 1st Group—survivors from the initial Altaerrie battle at Indolass—who have been resisting further expansion. We faced intense pressure, with approximately one thousand Altaerrie in heavy wheeled and tracked vehicles penetrating from the south, breaching deep into our lines. Initially, we thought they were flanking us, but they pressed east. We later learned they were rescuing trapped Altaerrie Palatini teams. The 31st Order successfully repelled the incursion back to Salva before reinforcing the northern front.
In the coming days, we aim to reclaim the Hiplose Woods and establish a blockade against Salva. However, my scouts report that the Altaerrie have heavily fortified the city, rebuilding much of its defenses. My advisors believe their counterattack also aimed to delay our forces, allowing Salva to prepare for a prolonged siege. I apologize for failing to anticipate this strategy." — General Sasbin-Arkin Phaeron, Nevali Region Command
March 18th, 2069 (military calendar)
Vagahm, former Confederacy of Daru'uie
Nevali Region, Aldrida, Alagore
*****
Walking through the carved tunnels of Vagahm's Dwarven borrian, Assiaya noticed the walls needed cleaning, a contrast to the polished surfaces she'd grown accustomed to under Kallem's service. In the Aristocracy's capital of Cornot and the regional fortress of Forlace, she had seen smooth, meticulously crafted dwarven stonework. Here, the rough, molded designs felt deliberate, exuding a rugged charm.
The only sign of culture was a half-foot-wide line of square plates stretching from the front gates to the plaza ahead. Each plate bore thaum magical ink designs depicting dwarves performing tasks.
Noticing her soon-to-be father, Ryder, pausing at one plate, Assiaya asked, "What are you thinking?" He seemed puzzled by the thaum ink, which showed a dwarf forging a war hammer that rose into the air with a faint shimmer of light, then reset and repeated.
"What's wrong?" Assiaya asked, their dwarven guide's translation amulet facilitating the conversation.
"The ink is moving," Ryder said, glancing at another plate. "They all are?"
Major Smith chuckled. "I said the same thing. That's normal here."
"It's thaum ink," Yeldan, their guide, explained.
"Thaum ink?" Ryder asked.
"Short for thaumaturgy," Yeldan replied. "Ink infused with a spell to make it move. It takes a skilled mage and significant coin to craft."
"Moving ink," Ryder muttered, adjusting to the concept. "Definitely a fantasy world."
"I wish his kind would stop saying that," the voice in Assiaya's head—her bonded spirit—grumbled. "It's offensive, as if we shouldn't exist."
Though Assiaya shared the voice's sentiment, she dismissed the remark, sensing no malice in Ryder's words. "You don't have such art on Altaerrie?" she asked.
"We have moving pictures, but not like this," Ryder said. "Our paintings are static. We create motion through computers—animation—but it's different. I'll show you sometime."
The delegation continued until they reached a large open plaza. Wooden booths, flags, kitchen stations, and market utensils lined the space, but it was eerily empty, with half-stocked stalls and tools left where merchants had abandoned them, likely due to the Altaerrie siege outside. To Assiaya's surprise, the atmosphere felt more relaxed than expected. Dozens of booths and potted plants provided natural decor, while large black-and-red striped banners, bearing a half-circle symbolizing the hill of Vagahm, stood tall. At the plaza's center loomed an eight-foot statue.
"Major Smith of the Altaerrie," a dwarf in brown and red robes greeted. "Pleasant to see you again."
"The pleasure's mine, Keeper Tharnot," Smith replied. "Thank you for hosting us."
"I see new faces in my halls," Tharnot noted.
"Yes," Smith said. "This is Captain Ryder and his daughter, Assiaya. I'll make proper introductions when your Lord arrives. Ryder, this is City Keeper Tharnot, responsible for Vagahm's diplomatic affairs."
"I understand," Tharnot said. "Our Lord will join us when ready."
As the group moved through the empty marketplace, Assiaya's gaze drifted to the central statue. It was robotic, bulkier than modern constructs, with wooden barrels forming parts of its body. The chest had wooden slats, giving it a sturdier appearance than the sleeker humanoid constructs used by empires today.
As she studied it, the construct moved, raising its hammer as a crystal within glowed red before lowering again.
"Why did it do that?" Assiaya asked.
"It's our first construct design from Vagahm's forges," Tharnot explained. "Before we retired this model, we turned the last one into a statue of our leader, Okkoid Vagahm. At peak market hours, it raises its arm, symbolizing our enduring strength after banishment."
"Banishment?" Assiaya asked. "This isn't your home?"
"Vagahm is our home now, but not originally," Tharnot said. "Long ago, our clan ruled Toriffa."
"The City-State, Toriffa?" Ryder interjected. "Ruled by the J'avais in the north?"
"Yes," Tharnot confirmed. "But we built its greatness. A J'avais clan waged a ten-year war against us—and won. We fled here."
"Why didn't other City-States intervene?" Ryder asked. "I've seen how unpopular the J'avais are with other races."
Tharnot laughed, glancing at the statue. "Because we all distrust each other—Toriffa, Affrooliea, Tarvass, Salva. When the war began, none intervened, allowing the Verliance Aristocracy to back the J'avais, gaining a foothold. This let the Vampires re-annex the region."
"Only after that," Yeldan added, "did the Lats install a puppet throne, the House of Balan, to balance Toriffa and the Aristocracy."
"Makes sense," Ryder said. "Kallem seems to favor them."
"Favor them?" the voice scoffed.
Assiaya took a frustrated breath. She despised Kallem for destroying her country and family, but she knew the claim was false. "I don't mean to disagree, but Lord Verliance despises them."
All eyes turned to her, confused.
"What do you mean?" Tharnot asked. "They've been allies for centuries."
"He sees them as war tools due to his hatred for Lats and elves," Assiaya said. "He barely tolerates them, killing their leaders to maintain control. He finds them racist and uncultured."
"How would a girl like you know this?" Tharnot pressed.
"You spoke too much!" the voice warned.
Assiaya's eyes widened. She'd revealed too much. A cold weight settled in her chest. Ryder had cautioned her against disclosing her identity without his approval, fearing capture for a reward. Though they planned to reveal it to the dwarf leader, this was premature.
"I found her as a slave east of here," Ryder interjected.
"I see," Tharnot said. "We all have secrets. My point was that Okkoid led our clan to Vagahm. It's not much, but we've carved out a market."
"Do you plan to reclaim Toriffa?" Ryder asked.
"There's talk, but no," Tharnot said. "We couldn't, and we're content here. We just want to be left alone."
"I relate," the voice said.
"I know," Assiaya thought. "If Ere-hian had left us alone, we might not have fled."
"If the Unity hadn't started this war," the voice added, "Kallem wouldn't have conquered our throne. Everything would be normal."
She glanced at Ryder. She longed for her family, stolen by Kallem. Yet, Ryder had already done more for her than she could ask. She wondered what life with her biological father might have been like with more time.
"I know what you're thinking," the voice said. "We may never have our first family, but we've found a great substitute."
"Agreed," Assiaya thought. "I had doubts, but Mathew's support gives me courage."
Noticing his concerned look, Assiaya realized she'd been lost in thought. "Sorry, I was distracted," she said.
"Stay focused," Ryder urged.
A maid whispered to Tharnot, who nodded. "My Lord is ready. Follow me."
The group passed the statue and entered a smaller chamber through double doors. Two fireplaces with red flames emitted a whitish-blue glow from dulled aetherium gas, creating an energetic ambiance. Glass enclosures and ceiling ventilation contained the toxic gas. This room, clearly for elite clients, contrasted with the marketplace.
Three small statues formed a triangle around a large, round wooden table.
"Round table," Ryder noted. "Interesting."
"Why?"
"Rectangular tables show who's in charge," Ryder said. "Kallem always took the head."
"You're right," Assiaya said, catching herself. "I mean, Kallem never used round tables, so it makes sense. Do dwarves see each other as equals?"
"Don't overthink the table," Smith said flatly.
"Why?" Ryder asked. "Politics matter here."
"They change the table each meeting," Smith explained. "First a square, then an oval, then a hexagon."
"Dwarves dislike traditional diplomacy," Yeldan added. "They keep guests guessing for sport."
"So, they're trolling us?" Ryder asked bluntly.
"No trolls here," Yeldan said.
"It's an Altaerrie term," Smith clarified. "Messing with someone intentionally."
"Then it fits these filthy short-beards," Yeldan snapped.
Tharnot pointed at Yeldan. "Don't speak, pointy-eared twig."
"When did you last bathe?"
"When did you last polish your nails?"
"They must love each other," the voice quipped. "No wonder there's little progress here."
"I can't believe how chaotic this is," Assiaya thought.
She found the bickering amusing, a stark contrast to Kallem's controlled disputes. Seeing Ryder's confusion and Smith's disappointment, she giggled, covering her mouth and drawing attention.
"Sorry," she said, embarrassed.
A loud horn sounded. At the room's far end, doors opened, admitting eleven dwarves: four guards, three motuia servants, two nekos, one kitsune carrying food and drink, a leader, and three advisors.
Assiaya recognized one advisor as a motuia political advisor, a loyal professional who pledged allegiance to their lord, forgoing foreign influence. Smith whispered that this dwarf, Eriznaec, had gray hair and a well-groomed beard.
"I announce Ruler under the Hill, Lord Girnick Elkkur," Eriznaec declared.
The Hill Lord stepped forward with measured authority, wearing a gold crown with jewels and red, black, and yellow robes.
"Altaerrie," Girnick said. "You're persistent. What new offer do you bring?"
"My Lord," Smith said. "We seek Salva's civilians."
"You've made that clear," Girnick replied. "But your offers—resources, protection, aid—don't suffice."
"We had an agreement," Yeldan interjected.
"With your former leader," Girnick countered. "Kallem ensured his death was public."
"You dishonor his memory," Yeldan said. "Our peoples were allies for generations."
"A foolish promise isn't binding," Girnick said. "You followed that Templar, and we sheltered your families. Your city's been taken twice, now under siege again. Your forces are depleted. After they finish you, they'll come here."
"You assume our defeat," Smith said. "We've held Salva, entrenched our foothold, and repelled their counterattacks. We're here to stay."
"Boasting victory prematurely isn't wise," Girnick said.
Assiaya grew frustrated. She hadn't realized the depth of discord between the Altaerrie and locals. Ryder's capture by a village fearing the Aristocracy made sense now. These divisions only strengthened their enemies.
Initially, she aimed to reveal her lineage to free Salva's people. Now, she wondered if she could do more. "Maybe I can unite them beyond just Salva," she thought.
"Not yet," the voice cautioned. "Focus on our people. Did you notice Smith said 'Salva civilians'?"
"Why does that matter?" Assiaya thought.
"Under Kallem, he showed a united Empire publicly, not factions. The Altaerrie's wording suggests division, which might concern Girnick."
Assiaya nodded internally, seeing the wedge. "Excuse me," she said aloud. "Lord Girnick, my friends misspoke."
Girnick turned, noticing her. "Why bring a child here?"
Feeling the weight of the moment, Assiaya glanced at Ryder, who nodded approvingly. She stood tall, facing the Dwarven Lord.
"I am Assiaya Balan, daughter of King Balan of the Daru'uie Confederacy. Taken as a slave when the Vampire Lord conquered these lands, I am now free, have reclaimed my throne, and stand before you as its ruler. The people of Salva are my people, and I'm here to negotiate their release."
Girnick stared, silent, as if peering into her soul. The lack of reaction unnerved her. Eriznaec spoke first.
"What is this stunt?" he demanded. "The House of Balan was murdered!"
"Mostly true," Assiaya said. "I was taken as Kallem's trophy."
"I confirm it," Ryder added. "Captured by the enemy this month, she freed me. We traveled behind enemy lines to safety."
Eriznaec opened his mouth, but Girnick silenced him. "You bear the Princess's name, but not her eyes. Your family's corruption is known. They maintained peace by force, not love. Why should I trust a broken lineage I despise?"
The Princess froze, her childhood memories vague. Her family's poor reputation shocked her, suggesting she'd failed Salva already.
Ryder placed a hand on her shoulder. "Where I'm from, we don't blame children for their parents' sins. Assiaya could've hidden her identity for safety, but risked saving her people peacefully. If you can't respect that, we're done here."
"And you are?" Girnick asked.
She grabbed Ryder's arm, staring at Girnick. "He is my father."
Pride swelled within her, echoed by the voice's affirmation.
Girnick's stone-like gaze persisted, unreadable. Assiaya sensed an act, but to what end? His fingers tapped once against his armrest before stilling. After a tense pause, he spoke. "I won't negotiate with a Balan like this. Leave… before I reconsider."
He exited with his entourage.
Assiaya was stunned. She hadn't anticipated outright rejection due to her lineage. Smith muttered about wasted time, while others lamented another failed negotiation.
Recalling Kallem's intolerance for disrespect, Assiaya refused to fail her first diplomatic effort. "My Lord!" she shouted. "I came to free my people, and I will. I'm not leaving. Try to remove us, but we won't budge."
Girnick paused, turning to study her defiance. He chuckled, nodding. "Fine. My servants will prepare a room." He left.
"That went well," Smith said sarcastically.
"We made progress," Ryder countered.
"How?" Smith snapped. "We didn't even get to the meal or drinks!"
"We weren't banished," Ryder said.
"Captain's right," Yeldan agreed. "Girnick was offended but didn't expel us."
"Unless it's a trap," Smith warned. "They may be allied with the Aristocracy. Now they know her identity—a bargaining chip. We should leave."
Assiaya realized the risk. If Smith was right, Kallem would soon learn she was here.
Seeing Ryder's concern, she knew he was weighing her safety against their mission. "Ryder returned to free us despite the risk," the voice reminded her.
"True," Assiaya thought. "Something else is at play. Girnick hadn't expelled them—there was a reason. There had to be a solution."
She faced the group firmly. "I want to stay. Otherwise, this was for nothing."
"Alright," Ryder said instantly.
"You're joking?" Smith said. "I could order you back. I won't explain to Colonel Hackett that I lost a Captain and a Princess because they wanted to play house."
"The Colonel sent us to negotiate," Ryder replied. "He'd back this. If the dwarves were allied with Kallem, they'd have surrendered Salva's civilians earlier. Betraying us now would mean war."
"After you're in Kallem's cell," Smith retorted. "But I see no other path. If this fails, it's war."
"We stay," Ryder concluded. "Have Viking send troops for security."
As the officers discussed logistics, Assiaya noticed Tharnot observing from a distance, whispering to an assistant.
Ryder approached him. "We're staying."
"Good to hear," Tharnot said, his tone unreadable. "Follow me."