Chapter Nineteen - Dwarven Door

It had been several millennia since I last visited a dwarven city. The last time had been... hmm, I think it was to visit a library. At the time there was a great dwarven nation that spanned several mountain ranges and whose control sunk deep into the earth. This nation's centre of power was a golden city atop a small mountain, more or less within the centre of the dwarven world at the time.

It was an interesting place, to say the least. Dwarves are not necessarily agoraphobic--that is to say, they're not naturally afraid of great open spaces, but it was nonetheless a common phobia among their kind.

It was as common as claustrophobia is amongst humans. Something like a third of all respectable dwarven fellows has a healthy fear of open spaces, roofless expanses, and the very idea of a room without a roof above it.

Flying is right out. Only the truly insane amongst the dwarven people enjoy having their feet leave the ground.

So it was always a little strange to me that the dwarven capital at the time was above ground. A great pyramidal structure sitting atop a cold mountain, surrounded by towers and pillars and immense walkways and bridges that interlinked an entire city.

Perhaps it was for sheer intimidation? A capital built in a place where most people would fear to walk was quite the statement.

I had visited shortly before my full rise to power in order to reference some architectural texts. I was in the midst of creating a world-spanning nation of the undead (with room for some living, of course, I wasn't going to be accused of being life-o-phobic!) and needed to devise a system for the construction of sturdy and logical buildings for my future developments.

Plenty of cities grew and expanded organically, which only meant that they were horrifically inefficient, dirty, and poorly planned. I wanted something far more organised if I was to create a fresh new world, and that meant having a proper understanding on construction techniques, architecture, and city planning.

Hence, visiting the dwarves to borrow some of their hard-earned knowledge.

"Bone Daddy?" Alex asked. "Are you lost in thought?"

I glanced around myself and took in my surroundings more properly. Alex stood right next to me, looking properly demure and careful, while the rest of our rag-tag little band was spread out a little more. Cinder was at the head, blazing a trail with Mem a step behind her. Rem was at the rear, trudging after us rather reluctantly.

"Ah, yes, forgive me, I was reminiscing."

"Oh, that's okay. Did you want to go back to it? Or would you like to rant about how things were so much better in the past? I'm always willing to listen."

"Ah, it's fine, if I'm gonna rant, then I'll want to make a proper monologue out of it, and it's no fun to monologue to an audience of one."

Alex carefully placed a hand on my shoulder. "It's okay, Papa. I'm sure you'll find people to monologue to soon."

I sighed, rather dejected. It had been a while, hadn't it? I felt like I had at least one good monologue in me already. It was a very peculiar mood, that.

"Miss Cinder, are we close to that entranceway you mentioned?" I asked.

Cinder glanced back, then nodded. "We are," she replied, voice still muffled by her mask.

Now more than ever, the choice to wear a mask made sense. The Ashen Forest had plenty of ash, of course, but it was mostly settled, and when it rained down it did so very lightly. Here, the ash was coming down in thick sheets. Visibility was quite poor, even to my magical senses.

The ash itself had some small amount of magic tied to each flake. Not much, but enough to interfere. I suspected that this would actually make for a fantastic barrier against certain types of spells.

Divination magic often required that the caster make a connection between themselves and their target. Having a haze of... what felt very much like necromantic magic in the way would certainly prove to be an obstacle for lower-tier casters.

Certain evocation spells would be weakened as well, I suspected. And it was entirely possible that the weak magic in the air would be enough to set off some spell prematurely.

No one wanted to be in the centre of a premature conflagration.

"I wonder if all of this ambient magic has been weaponized by the locals," I said.

"To a degree," Cinder replied. "We've long suspected that the Jade Throne's... alliance with the Mantis Queen is partially upheld because the throne's more powerful cultivators are uncertain of her true power."

"Oh?" I asked. "That implies that if they knew, they might be tempted to fight her."

"There are some cultivators in the capital and in the service of the Emperor who are said to be at the stage where they are defying heaven," Cinder replied. "And there are stories of these same cultivators fighting lesser gods and prevailing. It is not impossible that they would be able to take on this goddess and win."

Mem hummed. "Mom mentioned some scary cultivators. She said that sometimes we had to be nice to them, and not try to eat them. Some were scary-strong."

"Bah, they were just full of themselves... and of delicious cultivator meat." Rem made a rather disturbing sound as she brushed her mandibles.

"In any case, that is interesting to know. Once I see how powerful this Mantis Queen is, it'll give me a decent point of reference for the level of power I'll have to expect from these so-called heaven-defying cultivators. Do they often work for the Jade Throne?"

"No, they're... difficult to convince to do any work, as far as I can tell," Cinder replied. "I have had the good fortune not to encounter any of these cultivators myself. It is exceptionally rare that they'll be deployed on the behalf of the Empire."

"I see, and if, say, hypothetically, there were to be a sudden rebellion that springs up in one of the less populous and less popular corners of the Empire, would these cultivators be the ones sent out to subdue it?"

Cinder looked back my way. I think she suspected something, but she had the good graces not to point it out. "If that sort of thing were to happen, then no, it's unlikely that they'd be sent. Not for a mortal uprising, not even for a mortal uprising led by a few cultivators. For that, it's far more likely that the Empire will put a price on the heads of the leaders and some young and enterprising cultivators will travel from their sects to take care of the issue. Yes yes yes, young cultivators love this kind of quest."

Ah, yes, the 'go kill the evil bandit leader' sort of quest. Then the poor adventurers would inevitably discover that the bandit leader was actually a very well justified revolutionary and that the person that hired them was a comically vile and evil person.

I sighed. That always led the adventurers to storm whatever fortress I was in, demanding justice for the people they had killed. It was nonsensical. One should do one's own research before taking on a quest that involves any sort of assassination.

In any case, it was interesting to perhaps be on the other side for once. Or at least on the periphery.

I was certain that the Empire wouldn't take kindly to the Limpet installing herself as de facto leader of an army of the undead invading their easternmost province.

Hmm, perhaps I should increase her guard? The newly-promoted Seventeen was quite competent, but I didn't think he was quite ready to face a strikeforce of adventurers, or young empty-headed cultivators, not when they were unlikely to approach his position in an asymmetrical way.

He was an officer designed and trained for traditional, full-scale warfare. Not subterfuge and anti-assasination and pest-removal. For that, the Limpet would need a Death Knight, or a butler of her own.

I glanced back at Rem. The mantis was using the sleeve of her well-tailored jacket to wipe ash off of her face.

Maybe... one day.

"It's here," Cinder said.

We had been walking along the edge of the mountainside for some time, pushing away from the coast and into a forest of dead trees until we were right up against an almost sheer wall of stone at the foot of the mountains.

Cinder had stopped before a small depression in the wall that was quite easy to overlook. Now that she'd brought some attention to it, however, it was clear that this wasn't entirely natural. There were some old grooves cut into the stone in an arch that reached to about three centinecrometres over my head.

"Well well," I said. "Looks like the dwarves are still up to old tricks!"

***