Expansion - Chapter 4

 

4 – Brikel – His new home

The bell marking Stone‑Rest rings from the Chapel, its tone rolling through the tunnels like a slow breath. Brikel sets his equipment down in the outer alcove of his apartment. He sighs as he hears the boots of the Legion of Stone assembling in the central courtyard for shift change — the familiar clatter of discipline and routine.

In the small hearth niche, he works the pump he installed himself. Cold mountain spring water fills the basin, carrying the faint mineral smell he’s grown used to. Better that than the sharp sting of limewash and disinfectant that clung to the place when he first arrived. He splashes his face, arms, and neck, then dries off with the rough, woven towel. The texture grounds him.

As he hangs the towel to dry, his eyes drift to the Ore Clan emblem mounted on the wall.

“Home but not home,” he mutters.

Before Hearth‑Meal, he checks his equipment. The grum‑tal,‘timelamp,’ is refilled; he wipes cave dust from the hour marks on the tall cylinder and makes sure the wick is out. He sets it beside the polished brass lamp and tops that one off as well.

His stomach rumbles as a team of Legionnaires marches out of the courtyard. He still has a few tasks before the evening meal.

Sitting on a stool, he unrolls the large tunnel map across the table. With a sharpened graphite stick, he adds the new contours, adjusting the scale with careful precision.

“Carefully measure, make your calculations, and then make your marks.” His father’s voice echoes in his mind, steady as bedrock.

A quick tapping on the doorframe breaks his focus.

“Brikel, can I take your notes?” Mardek Slate‑Runner asks, breathless as always.

“Come on in,” Brikel says, checking one last measurement before drawing again.

Mardek watches him work. “I don’t know why you waste time doing this. Yivra has the master map.”

“As I’ve told you before,” Brikel replies, “to become a master surveyor, you have to draw your own maps. They must be accurate, or no one will trust your work.”

“But she draws better than any of us. Why spend time on something only you’ll see?”

Brikel finishes the last line, sets the graphite aside, and gathers the slates. “Here. When you deliver these, ask Yivra if she thinks individual engineers are wasting time copying their notes onto personal maps. Her answer might surprise you.”

“But Olma, Tholgrim, and Brenna don’t make maps as large as you and Yivra,” Mardek says.

“During Hearth‑Meal, share your thoughts with the group. Their answers might surprise you, too.” Brikel puts his drafting tools away. “But hurry, or you’ll be late.”

Mardek nods and darts off down the corridor.

Brikel shakes his head. “I wonder if that’s what I looked like to my father. Too fast, always looking for shortcuts.” He turns toward the Clan emblem again. “I wish you could see me now, Father. I learned. And I hope I make you proud. You and Durn can judge me together.”

 

The dwarven‑style Dining Hall is the only other structure that is obviously newly built. Instead of pushing tables together like the Bimkor once did, the Legion insisted on a proper hall for its troopers. It was the second thing the engineers and miners constructed after the Chapel.

As Brikel enters, he smiles at the support beams — placed exactly where he said they needed to go. One of the few structures that won’t be mined out and cleared away when the Guild digs deeper.

He is one of the first to arrive. He takes a tin plate from the stack and an enameled tin cup. Unlike a Clan Hall, where platters sit in the center of the table, the Legion has cooks and servers lined up along the kitchen wall. “Legion Efficiency,” they called it.

He holds out his plate. A scoop of stone‑stew slops onto it. Then roasted vegetables. Then, a thick slice of mushroom bread. Brikel gives each cook a polite nod as he moves down the line. At the end, he fills his cup from the large decanter and heads toward the long table where the surveyors sit.

He hears familiar voices before he reaches them:

“Hurry up, they’re about to line up in the courtyard.”

“If you get stuck behind them, you’ll only get crumbs.”

“You could use a few meals of only crumbs.”

“Between Stone‑stew and mushroom bread, I’m wasting away as it is.”

The dwarf engineers form an uneven line as they collect their plates and cups, but once they reach the food, they move smoothly — a practiced chaos that somehow works.

 

Brikel greets each one as they sit. Then he hears it:

“We are the Legion of Stone. We stand firm. We don’t break. We are Durn’s Law, solid and forever.”

The Legionnaires enter in formation, almost mechanical. They move through the line like a well‑oiled machine — plates filled, cups poured, steps measured. They sit as one, waiting silently for the Priest’s evening blessing.

 

Brenna Stone-Arc glances around their table. “Looks like Mardek and Yivra are getting crumbs tonight.”

“That’s probably my fault,” Brikel admits, dipping his mushroom bread into the stew’s gravy. “He came for my slates while I was updating my map.”

Korvik Tunnel‑Ear frowns. “You should wait for the Blessing.”

Brikel sets the bread back on his plate and nods. “You’re right. Hopefully, the Priest will arrive soon.”

Tholgrim Brace‑Hammer pokes at his food with his spoon. “If he takes too much longer, Blessing or no, I’m eating.”

Before Brikel can answer, the engineers see Yivra Ember‑Draft, Mardek Slate‑Runner, and Elder Bromvek Iron‑Voice enter the hall. The gentle murmur of the Legion stops instantly. Even the clatter of utensils stills.

The engineers straighten a little — not out of fear, but out of instinct. Bromvek has that effect.

They watch as the priest moves through the line: plate, stew, vegetables, mushroom bread, cup filled from the decanter. He places everything at his seat at the senior leaders’ table, but does not sit.

He surveys the room, then speaks:

“Bow your heads.”

The command is soft, but it carries like a hammer strike.

“Durn, we ask your blessings over us as we come together for this meal. Bless the hands who made it and bless those who now eat it. Give us strength as we continue your work — keeping your domain safe and searching for your gifts. In your name we pray.”

Many of the more devout dwarves make the sign of Durn. Elder Bromvek sits, lifts his spoon, and only then begins eating.

The moment his spoon touches the bowl, the young Legionnaires start eating in perfect unison. The sudden clatter of utensils on tin plates fills the hall like a jumble of falling stones.

Mardek slides into his seat beside Brikel, breathless. “You were right. All engineers—”

“Draft their own maps,” the table finishes for him.

Brikel smiles. It’s the closest thing to a Clan Hall he’s had since leaving home. He eats slowly, savoring the warmth of the food and the company, wondering what is happening back at Ore Clan — and whether they would be proud of him here.

Expansion - Chapter 3

3 – Helvar - Bimadizi‑Kor Holding Annex

Helvar Quiet‑stone reviews the slates the intake Legionnaires have left for him. He studies the runes and marks with practiced calm. The Legion of Stone worries that Protectors are hiding among those being relocated, but Helvar is unconcerned. Let the frail and frightened cling to whoever shelters them. He is not hunting Protectors.

He wants the Zhul‑durak.

Just one running loose can do more damage than a dozen Protectors — or so the Priests of Durn insist. “Let them preach their fears,” he murmurs as he packs his pipe with durn‑shav, the deep‑reed resin. He walks to a wall sconce, lifts the chimney, raises the flame, and draws until the resin catches. A thin puff of bluish‑grey smoke curls upward as he replaces the chimney and returns to his desk.

He exhales through his nose and looks at the next slate.

Miiwan Soft‑Echo.

Found by a Legion engineer during a deep‑tunnel check. No tools. No pack. Nothing.

Helvar picks up the slate and a sheet of barkskin, pipe tightly held in his teeth, and heads toward the Whta‑mishikan — the Room of Questions. Before entering, he gathers a few items and places them in a small, covered basket. Then he informs the Senior Legionnaire:

“Bring Miiwan Soft‑Echo to the room. Keep him separate from the others.”

The carved stone table in the center of the chamber gleams like still water. Helvar often wonders who lived here before the collapse — who shaped such a beautiful surface. He sits at the far end and tucks the basket beneath his stool. Watching the timelamp, he marks the moment Miiwan is brought in and seated. The Legionnaire stands just outside the doorway, watching.

The manacles clank softly as Miiwan rests his wrists on the table.

Helvar smiles and blows a gentle cloud of smoke before setting his pipe down.

“I’m sorry you have to wear those,” he says in unaccented Mishikwe. “The Legionnaires get nervous. Some have been attacked.”

Miiwan’s eyes widen. “I thought all Bimkor were gone.”

Helvar’s smile widens. “Is that what they say in the Deep‑deep? How could they all be gone?” He reaches into the basket and withdraws a small teapot and a woven cloth cup. “Would you like some root‑tea?”

Miiwan nods. While he sips, Helvar begins the questions — name, home, occupation, the circumstances of his capture. Helvar’s stylus moves steadily across the barkskin. Some answers are too smooth, too ready.

So, he shifts the angle.

“Your name — Miiwan Soft‑Echo. That’s almost Durask in its style. Are you Bimkor as well?”

Miiwan hesitates for only a breath. “I tried to make it easier for the Legion. I speak a little Durask, so instead of Miiwan Wishka‑mii, I said Soft‑Echo.”

“Oh, of course,” Helvar says pleasantly.

He writes one word: lying.

He glances at the timelamp. “I’ve kept you longer than I intended. But I have many more questions. I’ll have the Legionnaire bring you back tomorrow.” He lifts the empty teapot. “When you return, is there anything you’d like besides more root‑tea?”

Miiwan thinks for a moment and answers. “If you had moss‑sweet cakes… but it’s been more than a year since anyone’s made those.”

Helvar stands and offers his hand. They shake. He nods to the Legionnaire, who escorts Miiwan back to his holding alcove — still separate from the others.

When the room is empty again, Helvar sits, reviews his notes, and begins planning tomorrow’s questions.

Expansion - Chapter 2

 

2 – Brammir – The new veins

Brammir’s pick feels heavy in his hands, but the weight is familiar. With each swing, he feels the solid jolt of metal striking stone. The copper ore in the seam is easy enough to free, but the surrounding rock is stubborn. Working the Bimadizi‑Kor Worksite is less like mining and more like carving a new chamber out of the mountain itself.

When his ore cart is full, Brammir Thuldrenson hauls it out of the section to give the engineers room to check the supports. He tips the load into the rope‑pulley ore train bound for the smelter. As the engineer begins the rock‑sound checks, Brammir walks to the old fountain in the center of what used to be the Bimkor community. The water is cool and clean. He splashes his face, wets a rag, and scrubs the dust from his beard.

“I wish my brother could have seen this,” he murmurs, thinking of Helmir.

Has it only been a year?

A year since Helmir’s death—death or murder, no one ever gave a straight answer. A year since everything unraveled, no more Grand Market, no more Two Forges school, no more Bimkor.

“I should’ve pushed him to get his Guild certification,” Brammir mutters. “That lone‑wolf life was too dangerous.”

The engineer gives the “All Clear,” and Brammir pushes his cart back into place. He grips his pick, sets his stance, and swings again. Between his own strikes and the distant rhythm of the other miners, the pings of metal on stone almost sound musical. If they were all working the same section, they’d be singing to keep time. But each miner has his own claim today.

Dig out the visible ore. Shape the stone around it. Let the engineers judge safety. Continue until the seam is gone—or until the shift whistle calls them home.

Expansion - Introduction and Chapter 1

 

Introduction

My Dear Reader, welcome to this story. Before you begin, I’d like to give you a few things that will help you in this world.

I: This is not an allegory. At the time this was written, yes, there were events in various parts of the world that were similar to what takes place in this story, but what I wrote was based off of historical trends, not specific acts at the time of writing. Whether you choose to believe this is up to you, but I am a student of history, languages, and culture, all of which influence my writing.

 II: In this world, dwarves and goblins evolved from a common ancestor and can intermarry and have children. Before you cry “Blasphemy!” because this differs from the versions you know, remember that many cultures across our own world have stories of “little people of the mountains.” They go by many names. For this story, I chose Dwarf and Goblin. That is all.

 III: The languages are fictional but inspired by real ones. Durask, the dwarven tongue, draws from Icelandic, Norse, and English. Mishikwe is shaped by Algonquian languages. The cultures in this world grew from the logic and rhythm of these languages.

 IV: Everything is translated into English for the reader, except for certain names, items, and terms that lose their texture when translated. You will also encounter people using formally structured phrases at times. This reflects characters operating in official spaces or showing honor and respect through formal speech. If you find yourself thinking, “They’d be more casual than that,” remember: that is your expectation. In this world, the speaker at that moment would choose formality.

Welcome, and I hope you fully enjoy this story that takes place in a mountain range shared between the Children of Durn and the Children of Bruna.

1 – Brikel – Mapping the Tunnel

Brikel taps the stone and listens to the echoes. The tunnel around him is rough‑cut, its walls jagged, but the floor has been worn smooth by time and traffic. His oil lamp burns bright compared to the faint glow of fungi and lichen clinging to the stone. He marks the distance on his slate, scratches a matching mark on the wall, and measures out another length of rope.

Brikel Ore‑sight is a surveyor and an engineer. As he sketches the tunnel’s shape, he wonders—not for the first time—if he is truly safe. The legionnaires swore this section was checked and cleared, and now it falls to him to measure it for the miners. Aside from his lamp, rope, and rock hammer, he carries a long metal rod. Every stalagmite and stalactite gets the same treatment: a gentle tap first, then a firmer one. A Guild Engineer from the Iron Legion once showed him how to trigger a trap safely. Better to make a section fall in front of you than on you—or worse, behind you, where the zhul‑durak, the “silent hunters,” wait for the trapped.

He wipes sweat from his brow, then lifts the rod and taps a stalactite. Solid. He sets the rod down, raises the lamp, and checks for spider‑silk trip threads. Nothing this time. He notes it on his slate and measures out more rope.

“I wish these were engineered tunnels,” he mutters. “Not just shaped stone.”

But if he does his job well, the miners will fix that—carving, leveling, fortifying, bracing. Turning wild stone into proper halls. Coppervein Reach spoiled him; the Ore‑Sights have been surveyors and engineers since before the ‘Days of Peace’.

“Hopefully I can finish this tunnel and head back to Root‑Stone Hearth,” he says quietly. He wishes he could have seen the Grand Market before it closed a year ago. “Grand Market…” He whispers the name and makes the sign of Durn. “Great Tomb now. May the souls of the Legionnaires be in Durn’s keeping.”

He reaches the end of the tunnel and lifts his lamp toward the cavern beyond. The darkness breathes cold air back at him.

“No,” he murmurs. “Not by myself. Not for all the gobblers’ gold in the mountain.”

He checks the time on his timelamp, makes his final notes, and gathers his equipment to head back.

The Collapsing Tunnel - Epilogue

 

Epilogue - Hearth‑Rest at Weaving River

Mosek and Ashke sit outside of Weaving River watching the Sun set, and the stars come out. “I wonder how they are doing?” Mosek quietly asks.

“Shaatka said they’d send word if they leave Deep-deep again. I think Ana’s happy to be there. I think if she had to hear one more “Ghost” story, she was going to turn the teller into a ghost.”

“Probably.”

The evening air feels cool as the bell rings for Hearth-Rest. Tesh pokes his head out of the doorway. “Come and eat, Hairy Old Bear.”

“We’re on our way,” Mosek says as he leans heavily on his staff, and Ashke helps him stand.

“Do you think we’ll ever return to Deep-deep?” Ashke softly asks.

“I’m getting too fat to crawl through tunnels. Besides, the food here is good.”

“And we’re safe. For now.” Ashke says as he sees clouds slowly cover the rising moon.

The Collapsing Tunnel - Chapter 27

 

27 – Leaving Two Forges

Mosek walks up and down the double rows. The weakest of the Masters are upfront, pushing handcarts, the smallest apprentices are lined up in the middle, with the strongest at the rear.

Shaatka also walks along the rows. “This is a good order.” She says quietly to Mosek. He gives her a weak smile. “We learned it from your evacuations. You had minimal losses and kept communities together. I hope we can do the same.”

 Ana has taken as many blunt-tip arrows as she can. If there are guards at the tunnel, she’ll take them out as quickly as she can and as quietly as she can. If she needs help, she’ll wait and get support before she attacks.

“You plan well, Red Shadow,” Ashke says.

“And you look like a metal cave beetle.” She teasingly replies.

Mosek comments, “If we leave now, it will be dark by the time we get to the tunnel exit.”

“Darkness is our friend,” Ana says softly.

Master Brenna extends a hand to Mosek. “I wish I were coming with you, but Master Elowen doesn’t need me. Besides, maybe we can convince whoever comes that the school isn’t a threat and we should stay open.”

“I wish I had your optimism,” Mosek says sadly.

 

Master Ruvin Stone-Whisper talks with Ashke, “After you are all clear, I will weaken the tunnel so it will collapse. If it doesn’t look like Peace, then stay at Weaving River. Tell Master Dornel I’ll miss our technique disagreements .”

 

Ana is a moving shadow again, as Mosek leads the columns. This time, the sound of moving feet is loud. Not marching boots but shuffling shoes. Putting one foot in front of the other.

On the other side of the school, a voice calls out, “Attention. By order of the Unified Guilds and the Priests of Durn, this facility is to be shut down, and all people are to surrender to the Legion of Stone.”

Ashke looks back, and Master Ruvin Stone-Whisper looks to be packing something in the arch of the tunnel entrance.

Master Brenna's voice echos from the school’s courtyard. “We are a school, chartered by the Guilds before you were born. We aren’t a threat to anyone. Let us live here peacefully.”

A voice using a speaking horn responds. “Surrender now, or we will use force.”

Ashke hears Master Brenna yell, “Link Arms”.

A voice, old with many years behind it, starts singing in Durask,

“We are Children of Durn and Bruna, Born of Stone and Born of Root.”

It’s only one voice at first, but soon more join. A verse in Durask and then repeated in Mishikwe. It echoes down the tunnel, and some of the older Masters sing along too.

“Hand in hand we walk the tunnels, Peace our shield and Craft our truth.”

A voice that sounds like the Priest from the Market yells, “Stop singing that blasphemy. Legion of Stone, do your duty.”

The tunnel roof collapses with a thunderous boom.

All Ashke sees is dust as his ears ring.

The Collapsing Tunnel - Chapter 26

 

26 - Ana / Shaatka / Ashke / Mosek / Tesh – The Deep Calm

At Ember-spark, the table is filled with fresh food. Some of it from the empty Chapel and some from the cart that Mosek and his friends brought. Whispers circulate as fast as the plates.

“Brannik was a Silent Hammer.”

“Knew he was bad.”

“Priest left with the Legion.”

“She’s an avenging ghost.”

“Used arrows in complete darkness.”

“Was gonna use a stone glass dagger.”

The Masters look to Master Brenna, but she just lets them whisper rumors for now. Let them fill their bellies and their imaginations at the same time.

 

When Mosek enters, everyone cheers. “Big Old Hairy Bear!” He sits where he previously sat, and Ashke enters too. Cheers of “Ashke the Protector” echo through the room.

Ana pauses at the entrance. “It all seems so loud and bright.” She whispers to Shaatka.

“Sit with me. Enjoy the food we brought.” When they enter. There is a great silent pause.

“There she is, the shadow ghost.”

Ana wants to turn, but Shaatka leads her into the dining hall. The students cheer for her. “Ghost,” they call her. She feels so embarrassed by all of this. 

Ashke makes room near him. “Come sit and eat, Red Shadow.” He pours her some strong root-tea.

Master Brenna stands up and bangs the bottom of her mug on the table. “You’ve had your fun. Now sit and eat. After we all enjoy the food Mosek and company have brought us, we will take a moment to hear about their adventures.

Tesh looks at Mosek and smiles. Mosek smiles back.

 

After the meal, Master Brenna motions for Mosek to tell their story. He tells about both sets of guards, the gift of the rams, and the welcome they received from Master Elowen. “Apparently, the Unified Guilds are writing new laws, and the Legion of Stone has replaced the Peacekeepers.”

The students all murmur upon hearing the Legion’s name.

“We’ve had our own dealings with the Legion of Stone,” Master Brenna says. She then explains the withdrawal of all the pure dwarf students back to their clans.

As she does, many students look around at the empty spaces where their friends were. Tesh grips his mug, thinking of Garin. “It wasn’t fair.” He whispers. Zhaawa places a comforting hand on his shoulder. He pats her hand and gives her a soft smile.

Ana looks around at the Bimkor that are left. Aside from the Master's, there are no pure-blood dwarves left. “The school is in danger.” She says quickly.

“Stay calm, Ana. We are all safe. The school is here. We have food…”

“No, their threats were real. All that is left is the same as we had in the border lands. We evacuated because they were coming. I see the same thing.”

Mosek and Ashke try to object, but Shaatka stands up. “She’s right. We need to plan now. If the apprentices are to be evacuated, we need to do that now.”

Master Brenna bangs the bottom of her mug again. “Please sit down.” Shaatka resumes her seat. “I want all the Apprentices to clean up and resume their duties. I need a Master from each of the disciplines to stay. The rest of you, return to your workrooms."

Tesh looks at Mosek again. He wants to run up and have him tell him that they are safe. But Mosek only gives him a weak smile and a slight nod, meaning “Do what Master Brenna says”.

 

By Forge-breath, the students have been told to pack. There will be an evacuation of the Apprentices to Weaving River. Mosek and Ana will lead the way. Shaatka and Ashke will act as the rear guard. Some of the Masters will accompany them, but others will stay. “This is my only home” is a common refrain.

 

As they are ready to leave, Ashkwi‑Tin finds Ashke. “Protector. We made armor for you.” He follows the young apprentice into a workroom. There are three full gambesons laid out, along with modular pieces of metal armor to be attached.

Ashke pulls one on, and with Ashkwi-Tin’s help, he assembles the armor. In a few moments, he looks like a cross between a Goblin Protector from the old wars, a member of the Iron Legion, and some sort of metal defender.

“How does it feel?” Ashkwi-Tin asks. Ashke slowly and deliberately moves into various defensive combat moves. He then speeds them up, and soon they are a blur of metal and padded silk.

He stops and bows to the metal shaper. “You honor me with this gift.” He says a little winded. “There’s enough for Ghost and the other one. Please tell them they can have them.” Ashkwi-Tin looks around the workroom again. “I’m sorry I didn’t make you a weapon. Master Helka and Master Zhika said you don’t use the kind of weapons we’d make. That protective armor was a better gift.”

Ashke smiles at him again. “Your Masters are wise. This is perfect. Now go and finish packing.”

Shaatka sees the armor. “That is a beautiful gift.”

“There’s one for you, too. They made enough for Ana, also, but…”

“You’ll never get her into that.” Shaatka agrees.