Expansion - Chapter 21

 

Helvar – Changes

“There are bodies everywhere!” a voice calls down from the upper tunnels, breathless and excited.

Helvar steps out of the Chapel, tucking his barkskin notes into a pocket of his robe. Yivra, Thavrin, Elder Bromvek, and a Senior Legionnaire all converge toward the sound.

A dwarf—Korrin, Helvar recalls—stands at the bottom of the ramp, still wearing his climbing harness, chest heaving.

“What’s that?” Yivra asks.

“Whose bodies, and where?” Thavrin adds.

Elder Bromvek and the Legionnaire remain silent, waiting.

Helvar moves closer, concern tightening his brow.

Korrin straightens. “I was climbing the air vents like we discussed. Yes, the snowfall blocked some of them. They’ll melt in time, but when the Legion used smoke… there wasn’t anywhere for it to go.”

Thavrin and Yivra nod grimly. “But you said bodies?” Yivra presses.

Korrin swallows. “Down in the Traders’ Pass. They look frozen.”

Elder Bromvek frowns. “No one uses the pass in winter. Both ends are too easy to block with snow and ice.” 

He turns to the Legionnaire. “Hadrun, do you know anything about this?”

Hadrun shakes his head. “No. We’ve limited all activity to inside the mountain for the season. We don’t patrol the passes until spring.”

“I don’t think they were dwarves,” Korrin says quietly. “I think they were all goblins.”

“Goblins in the snow?” Thavrin mutters. “Unheard of. River and Swamp Goblins shouldn’t be anywhere near the high passes.”

Korrin looks to Hadrun. “Can the Legion send a rescue team? There might be survivors.”

Hadrun hesitates. “I’ll write an observation report and send it to headquarters in Durnbim Hold. How many bodies did you see?”

“Dozens,” Korrin says. “I didn’t get a good count.”

Thavrin nods. “Help him make an official report. Then give your notes to Yivra. If you need to map more vents and the bell for Stone‑Rest hasn’t sounded, return to where you left off.”

 

Helvar quietly slips back into the Chapel office. He opens his barkskins and writes quickly:

‘Goblins abandoned in the pass’

‘No Protectors or Scouts’

‘Winter—pass closed’

He closes the barkskin and steps into the main part of the Chapel.

“Durn, we follow your path,” he begins, voice low but edged with anger. “But purity of spirit does not mean corrupting it with hate. Show me what I must do. Our own people are straying from the path. Guide me.”

Elder Bromvek enters softly, approaching with gentle steps. “Acolyte Helvar, if you need guidance, I’m here.”

Helvar looks at him—an Elder he barely knows. “I’m having doubts,” he admits. “I know the Path of Durn. I’ve studied the laws. But I see our own people breaking them in Durn’s name.”

Bromvek gestures to a bench. “Sit. Speak freely.”

Helvar sits, but only for a moment. As Bromvek leans in, Helvar’s training snaps back into place. This is not a Silent Hammer debriefing. This Elder is not cleared.

This is wrong.

Helvar rises, smoothing his robe. “Elder, I’m alright. I had a moment of weakness, but speaking with you reminded me of Durn’s Laws and the True Path. My doubts are gone. Thank you.”

Bromvek studies him with concern. “Are you certain?”

“I am,” Helvar says. “I should return to my duties. The end of Midday approaches.”

The Elder stands. “Very well. If you have further concerns, my door is open.”

“Of course, Elder.”

Helvar bows and steps away—his face calm, but quietly seething underneath.

 

Helvar stands at the bell, ready to sound Work‑Resumption. Engineers and miners have more bells than the Legion, but the purpose is the same: mark the times that matter.

From the western tunnel, the sound of marching boots echoes into the hall.

Helvar turns — expecting the brown leather and stone‑grey uniforms of the Legion of Stone — but instead sees black iron plate, polished and cold.

“This isn’t good,” he whispers.

He strikes the bell hard, sounding the alarm instead of the hour.

 

Leaders of Root‑Stone Hearth emerge at once — Thavrin, Yivra, Elder Bromvek, Slate‑Leader Hadrun — all staring as a full company of Iron Legion soldiers march into the hall.

At their head walks a dwarf whose beard is braided with battle awards, rank‑runes carved directly into his armor.

“I am Forge‑Commander Vargan Iron‑Reeve,” he announces, voice carrying like a hammer blow. “This operation is now under the jurisdiction of the Iron Legion.”

Hadrun steps forward. “I am Slate‑Leader Hadrun Slate‑Ward of the Legion of Stone. I have received no orders relieving me of my duties here.”

Vargan hands him a sealed scroll. “These are your orders.”

Helvar watches Hadrun read them — the tightening jaw, the resigned nod.

“My men and I will pack up and return to Durnbim Hold.”

“Make sure you take the engineers with you,” Vargan adds.

Thavrin approaches, bristling. “What’s this?”

“This operation is now under Iron Legion control,” Vargan repeats. “Military engineers will continue your work. Pack your equipment and leave with the Legion of Stone.”

 

Two dwarves step from the ranks — armored, but bearing the symbols of Durn rather than weapons.

“I am Chaplain Morgran Stone‑Cantor,” the elder says, “and this is my acolyte, Rulik Grey‑Mantle. We will see to the spiritual needs of the Legion. Please depart with the others.”

Elder Bromvek stiffens. “I have tended the spiritual needs of this settlement since its occupation.”

Chaplain Morgran smiles — warm, but immovable. “A task you have done well. Return to the Grand Chapel at Durnbim Hold. If you are needed elsewhere, you will be told there.”

Bromvek exhales sharply, his frustration plain and visible, but the black armor before him leaves no room for argument. “Of course. Helvar, help me pack.”

“Of course, Elder.”

Before he can move, an iron‑gloved hand settles heavily on Helvar’s shoulder.

A voice speaks in soft Mishikwe, low enough that only Helvar hears:

“Leave your notes. Go with your Elder. At Durnbim Hold, you will be sent on a spiritual retreat. Do as you are told. We are still needed.”

Then, louder, in Durask: “Travel safely on Durn’s path, fellow acolyte.”

  

Elder Bromvek has a push‑cart that holds all his belongings, and Helvar takes the handles, pushing it down the tunnel. Members of the Legion of Stone march ahead, the engineers follow in a tight cluster, and two legionnaires trail behind as rear guard.

“I would help you push, Helvar,” Bromvek says between breaths, “but keeping this pace is difficult enough.”

“I understand, Elder. I don’t mind. I put my few belongings on top.”

“Such a clever lad,” the Elder says warmly.

 

Helvar tries to listen to the gossip ahead of him, but the tunnel twists the sound—boots, wheels, echoes, and fragments of conversation blending together.

“…related to the dead bodies…”

“…military engineers aren’t surveyors…”

“…should’ve been Legion of Stone, not Iron Legion…”

“…what now…”

“…Guild will have further word…”

Helvar shakes his head, irritated. If he could hear more clearly, he might piece together the truth. But Rulik’s whispered warning returns to him: “You will be sent on a spiritual retreat.”

There is only one place that means. Khar‑Durnath. The Monastery of the Deep Quiet.

He hasn’t been there since completing his training—since being added to the pool of acolytes who “walk unseen.” If he is to remain one of Durn’s Silent Hammers, he will obey. That is what he was shaped to do.

And yet… as he pushes the cart, a cold thought settles in his chest.

So many leaders are missing the bigger picture. 

Maybe ending the ‘Days of Peace’ was wrong. 

Maybe…

He pauses without meaning to.

“Maybe I have lost my way,” he mutters.

“No, Helvar,” Elder Bromvek says gently. “This tunnel leads straight to Durnbim Hold. You can’t lose your way.”

Helvar forces a smile. “Of course, Elder. I was just lost in thought. You’ll keep me on the path.”

But inside, the path feels so twisted.

Expansion - Chapter 20

 

Brammir – Anger

“Where’s the gold?” Dorgun snaps, voice echoing off the cavern walls.

“Who said anything about gold?” Jorvik replies, trying to keep his tone steady.

“When the Guild brought us in, they said we’d find gold and get a cut of it,” Dorgun growls.

“Yeah!” Varnik adds. “Only seen pyrite and copper.”

“Wrong kind of mine,” Haldrek says, stepping up beside Jorvik. “These tunnels show malachite, copper, hematite. I’ve not seen a single sign of gold.”

“Maybe that’s why the Legion pulled out,” Fenrik mutters. “Maybe that’s why the smelters were gone.”

“They tricked us. They lied!” Dorgun shouts, fists clenched.

“No, they didn’t,” Jorvik says firmly. “That’s the way of mining with the Guild. You go where they say and dig what they need.”

Thrain hefts his pick and moves to stand with Jorvik and Haldrek. “The Guild’s good to us.”

“Maybe to you,” Dorgun spits. “Maybe you like being lied to and used. Where are the profits? Where’s our cut?”

Brammir watches the argument unfold, a cold knot forming in his stomach. ‘Is this what my brother felt, when he refused to work for the Guild?’ he wonders.

“I think we all need to calm down,” Jorvik says. “When the Guild sends surveyors, they’ll tell us where to mine next. Until then, we’ve got a copper seam to extract.”

“I didn’t sign up for copper,” Dorgun snarls. “I didn’t sign up for iron. I came for gold — and gems. And according to Fenrik, your precious Guild pulled out with the Legion. So where’s your support now?”

Brammir watches as the cavern slowly divides. Jorvik, Haldrek, and Thrain stand together on one side; Dorgun, Varnik, and Fenrik on the other. Miri, Keldra, Brottan, and Brammir drift toward each other and take a cautious step back.

Dorgun notices. He jabs a finger toward them.

“No. Don’t pull back. Join us. They lied and you know it. Miri. Keldra. Didn’t they promise you riches if you came into the mountains?”

Miri hesitates, taking a single step toward him. Keldra’s hand lands on her shoulder, steady and firm.

“No,” Keldra says. “Haldrek’s right. These tunnels are copper with a little iron. No gold. No gems. The Guild said there was work — and there is.”

“Yeah, work like a dog,” Dorgun snaps. “Dig where your master tells you. Take the scraps when he’s done.” His voice rises, raw and bitter. “I’m tired of it. I’m going back up the tunnels and finding another way. Who’s with me?”

Jorvik steps forward until he’s nose‑to‑nose with Dorgun.

“You signed on with the Guild. You’ll do what they say, when they say it.”

Thrain shifts his grip on his pick and moves to Jorvik’s side.

Before the tension can snap, Brammir steps between them.

“Wait. Before this turns ugly — why don’t we all go up? If the Guild office is open, we can see what’s going on.” He turns to Jorvik. “You said if the smelter’s cold, we don’t have work. So let’s see for ourselves.”

Jorvik and Dorgun exchange a long, hard look — and both give a curt nod.

“Alright,” Jorvik says. “Everyone, leave your gear. We’ll go up and get answers.”

The miners form a loose, uneasy line and begin the climb toward Bimadizi‑Kor, the air thick with resentment and the sharp scent of stone dust.

 

On the main level, the cavern is eerily quiet. Too quiet. The roped‑off pens where the goblins had been kept stand empty, ropes slack and dangling. The block‑stone building the Legion used as their barracks sits dark, doors open, abandoned.

Along the far wall, seven goblin bodies lie in a heap. They’d been hung — the rope nooses still around their necks — then cut down and left where they fell.

No one speaks. Even Dorgun’s anger falters.

They move slowly toward the portable smelter. The crew camp around it is gone — tents struck, crates stacked, fire pits cold. The smelter itself remains, but its bellows hang limp, its vents dark.

“Weird,” Jorvik mutters, barely above a breath.

Fenrik leans closer to Brammir, whispering, “See? It’s just like I said. Like they left and forgot us.”

Jorvik turns toward the block building where the Guild offices had been. But the rooms are as empty as everything else.

“What now?” Dorgun asks, voice low.

Before Jorvik can answer, a sound rolls through the cavern — deep, rhythmic, unmistakable.  From the western tunnels comes the echo of heavy marching boots.

Expansion - Chapter 19

 

Brikel – Smidasaga

At the start of Stone-Breath, Elder Bromvik offers the morning blessing. When he finishes, he tells Helvar “Please oversee the engineers as they preform Smidasaga”.

Helvar nods reverently and then goes to the Engineer’s table. He then looks at Brikel, Durnek, and Yivra. “Do you know what is required for today?”

Brikel nods. “Yesterday we were completing Mardek’s work.”

“And would have finished it if the Legion’s smoke hadn’t shut things down.” Durnek comments.

“But,” Brikel continues “We were doing what was needed, without the rituals nor Durn’s blessing.” A sad realization moves through him.

Helvar moves closer. “No. You did what you were told. The work is important. If you would have completed it, I still would have asked if you wanted to bless the chamber and free him from his duties.”

“We should have prepared him better.” Durnek says softly.

Yivra pats him reassuringly on the shoulder. “We all should have.” She looks at Helvar. “I’ve never taken part in a smidasaga, so what is my role?”

Helvar sits down and explains the full ritual, including entering, moving to Mardek’s last steps, a verbal passing of the duties using his tools, completion of surveying the chamber, and finally signing off the slates by Yivra, who would have received the completed slates from him. “I only offer blessings and prayers when needed.” Helvar concludes.

They all nod and finish eating.

 

Just like yesterday, Durnek and Brikel lay out the tools — but this time they include Mardek’s rods and ropes. Their masks hang from their belts instead of their faces.

“By clearing the drain ways, the pits should be circulating better,” Durnek says.

Brikel nods as he wipes clean Mardek’s rods. They feel heavy and unfamiliar in his hands. “His clan must have given them to him,” he murmurs, noticing the clan‑marks carved into the center of the rod.

Yivra carries Mardek’s slates and barkskins. “So, you remeasure where he left off?” she asks.

“No,” Helvar softly corrects her. “You begin where his marks began.”

Brikel nods. “I’ve helped do one of these before.”

“In my clan,” Durnek adds, “I was an apprentice and had to take the role of the senior who passed.”

Helvar blesses both surveyors with the mark of Durn. “May you continue following his path, and keep the way true.” He blesses Yivra as well, then asks, “Are we almost ready to begin?”

Brikel looks at the acolyte in his brown robe. “Before we go, please get a protective mask. The air should be clear, but after yesterday I don’t want to take chances.”

Yivra sets the slates down. “Come with me. I should grab one too.”

When they return, masks tucked into their belts like the others, Brikel and Durnek shoulder all the equipment. The extra safety gear feels awkward, but Brikel knows it’s right to have it close, even if they never use it.

At the chamber opening, Yivra shows Brikel the notes Mardek made. With Durnek’s help, they begin taking measurements. Brikel stays on Mardek’s path. Using Mardek’s heavy rod, he taps down hard on a spot where a thin crust has formed again. The rod breaks through, sinks deep, and touches the bottom of the pit. He measures the depth.

“Oh. I didn’t know,” Yivra says, surprised.

Helvar stands silently, observing.

A tightness rises in Brikel’s throat. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he lifts the muck‑covered rod high.

“Mardek Slate‑Runner,” he says quietly. “I take your rod and your ropes. Durnek and I will complete this task for you. Rest well.”

He sets the rod down, pulls a rag from his pocket, and wipes his eyes. “The fumes got to me for a moment.”

“Me too,” Durnek says, holding the measuring rope to get the distance across the pit.

 

When they reach the end of the chamber, Yivra has a slate full of measurements. “He shouldn’t have been alone.” She says softly and sadly.

“Why’s that?” Helvar quietly asks.

“This should have been a two-man job.” Brikel responds rolling up a measuring rope.

“Just like you did today?” They all nod to Helvar. “So why was he alone? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Brikel bites his lower lip in frustration before answering “In the Clan Halls, new engineers get ‘dirty jobs’. It’s a rite of passage, to do it and learn.”

Durnek taps the rods against the cavern floor. “But this isn’t a Clan Hall. We thought these were like our compost bins.”

Brikel sees Yivra’s jaw tighten in anger. “We sent him here not knowing the danger.” She grips the slates tightly. “I didn’t know the pits were that deep.”

Helvar points to marks on the walls “Do any of you know how to read Goblin?”

They all shake their heads. Helvar continues “I wish we could have brought one or a Bimkor. There might be warning signs in here.”

Brikel moves closer to Helver. “Do you know about Goblin writing?”

“I’ve seen it but can’t read it.” He quickly says and then points, “Like there, along the wall by that pit, something is written, but unfortunately none of us can read it.”

Durnek looks closely at the marks. “I walked right past them and never noticed, did you Brikel?”

“No, I didn’t.”

Helvar quickly comments, “If the chamber is complete, and you have all the notes, then we should finish the ritual.”

Brikel is carrying all the ropes while Durnek has the rods and hooks. “We are done. We can leave.”

Back into the main courtyard, they review the slate one more time, everyone agrees on the measurements. And Yivra signs off on its completion.

“Mardek Slate-Runner, your task is complete. Rest well with your Clan. In Durn’s name we bless all that you have done. Continue to follow the path of truth and purity.” Helvar says and makes the sign of Durn.

Helvar reaches for the slates. Yivra says, “Let me copy them onto the master map first.”

“Of course. I will go and clean up. I’ll be at the Chapel when you are finished.”

Brikel watches him go. “He’s a strange one.”

Durnek nods “I never noticed the goblin writings, and we spent double the time he had in there.”

“I hadn’t either. We should keep an eye on him.” Brikel says “But that can wait until after Hearth-Meal. Let’s put all this away.”

Expansion - Chapter 18

 

Helvar – Counseling

As Helvar makes it past the lines of the Legion and the rumbling machines going westward, he keeps his head down and the brown hood of his robes up. He shakes his head and covers his satisfied smile. “They learned nothing.” He grips the slate firmly as he reads the Mishikwe marks on the tunnel wall saying “Root-Stone Hearth”. He smiles seeing that the tunnel miners missed removing it when they widened and smoothed the tunnel walls.

The Chapel is on a slightly higher area of the cavern and dwarves are seated around it, wiping soot from each other. Thinning curls of smoke slowly drift up the cavern air vents from the eastern tunnels.

A Senior Legionnaire is speaking with an Elder and an older dwarf who appears to be a civilian engineer. “As Slate-Leader I will maintain our support for your mission, but the rest of the Legion has pulled back to come up with a new plan. The Spider warren has been sealed off for now. Once the smoke has cleared from the remaining tunnels you can resume your mapping duties.”

“Are there any dangers, aside from poison smoke that your men found?” the civilian asks in an angry tone.

“Senior Engineer, I don’t like the tone you’re using.”

The civilian’s face turns red with frustration “Tone I’m using? You and the arrogant idiots above you, almost killed all my surveyors. We will lose an entire day or more, waiting for the tunnels to clears. That’s because of the Legion. Not my Engineers.”

“You lost an engineer without our help or interference.”

The Elder interrupts before the angry engineer can respond. “Gentlemen, before you both say things you will later regret, I recommend you each see to your people.” He looks to both leaders. “I will hold a service in the chapel, to give thanks to Durn that more people weren’t hurt and that we can take time to carefully plan the next steps.”

Helvar steps up to them and hands his slate to the Elder. “I apologize. I’m Acolyte Helvar Quiet-Stone. I heard you will be organizing a service. Elder, I’m here to help.”

Both the Senior Legionnaire and the engineer both shake Helvar’s hand, then turn back to the Elder. “Elder Bromvek, you are correct, we should be thankful that so few were hurt. Let me gather my people and we’ll be in the Chapel.” The Legionnaire nods and says “We’ll attend too.”

As they both walk away, Helvar says “Elder Bromvek after the service can I meet with the engineers. I was sent to perform the Sagnasteinn or the Smidasaga.”

Elder Bromvek reads the slate and nods. “Of course, Helvar. Help me set up the Chapel, and then I’ll have you ring the bell.”

 

After the prayer service, as the Legion leaves the Chapel, Elder Bromvek asks the engineers to remain on their carved benches. “You have all had dealt with a number of hardships. Acolyte Helvar was sent to help.” The Elder turns and Helvar steps forward.

“When I heard about your loss, I volunteered to come here to Root-Stone Hearth.” The steel chisel is cold in his hand. “Elder Bromvek has allowed me to offer the Sagnasteinn for your lost companion. We have slates in the chapel, unless you have a different stone you would prefer to use.”

The engineers softly talk among themselves for a moment. Helvar turns to Elder Bromvek. “Elder, I can handle things from here, unless you require my help with something else?”

The old priest gives him a soft smile. “No, you can handle this. I’ll see to the needs of the Legion. Thank you.”

Helvar picks up a slate, and small hammer to go with the chisel he’s already carrying.

The old engineer stands up “Helvar, we thank you for this opportunity. We have been so focused on our work…”

A female dwarf stands up. “What Thavrin is trying to say is we’d like to use one of Mardek’s slates instead of a chapel one.”

The dwarves all nod.

Helvar politely smiles “Very well. Do you have the slates with you?”

“No, but they’re in the map room.”

“Lead the way. Oh, you are.?” Helvar asks setting down the slate and shifting the hammer and chisel to his other hand.

She extends her hand “I’m Yivra Ember-Draft, I make the master map and Mardek started off as my assistant.”

As they dwarves all lead the way, Helvar learns the names of the others. When Durnek and Brikel introduce themselves, Durnek says “We were asked to finish the survey of the cavern he started.”

Brikel nods “After the Sagnasteinn, I’d like to complete his Smidasaga for his Clan.”

“We’d like to complete it.” Durnek corrects.

Helvar smiles “Of course. I will assist you anyway you need.”

Yivra holds a large slate. “This was the tunnel leading to the waste chamber survey that Mardek Slate-Runner completed. This will show his Clan his professionalism.”

Helvar takes it and says, “How many of you worked with him?”

They all nod. Thavrin says “He started off as our runner. He was training under all of us.”

Helvar nods “So everyone should contribute to his Sagnasteinn?” He then pauses. “Did one of you find him?”

They all look at Brikel, who looks down sadly.

“I’d like to have him be the last one to add to it.” Helvar says handing the slate to Thavrin. “Do you want to start it?”

Thavrin nods and takes the hammer and chisel.

He chisels in Mardek’s full name and then hands it to Yivra, who adds his title, then hands it to Tholgrim.

As they each add something, a female engineer carrying ropes and her equipment enters the cavern, goes to a cubby, unloads herself, then walks over.

Thavrin intercepts her, “Brenna, I’m glad you made it back. We’re doing a Sagnasteinn for Mardek.”

As they come closer, the engineers make room for her, so she can add her memory of him. 

Brikel adds the final piece to the saga stone, then hands it to Helvar.

“This looks beautiful and heartfelt. His Clan will appreciate this.” He says.

Thavrin sighs, “Let’s come up with a plan for tomorrow.”

Helvar backs away. “I’ll let you develop your plan. I would like to accompany the team working the waste-pit chamber so we can perform the Smidasaga and honor Mardek’s work.”

Thavrin nods “We will add you to our schedule, but please ensure that Elder Bromvik won’t have other duties for you.”

“Of course, Senior Engineer.”

Expansion - Chapter 17

 

Brammir – Legion Pulls Back

The miners are lined up, ready to return to the mine. Most of the morning was spent cleaning and sharpening tools. When the Work‑Start Bell sounded, they expected to see the Legion and the engineer return. When that didn’t happen, they stacked their equipment and waited. Deep‑Meal Bell came and went. Now they stand in formation again, ready for the Legion to return and for the Work‑Resumption Bell to chime.

“What’s taking so long,” Dorgun mutters.

“Maybe they found traps,” Fenrik says.

“No one said anything about traps,” Jorvik answers, voice firm.

“First spiders, and a dead engineer,” Fenrik adds quickly.

“That’s only rumors,” Thrain says, trying to keep the line steady.

“Not the engineer’s death,” Brammir says quietly. “He was a friend of Brenna’s. The engineer we have. She told me about it.”

A runner appears from the western tunnel connecting Bimadizi‑Kor’s main cavern to the worksite and the mine. He doesn’t stop — just sprints straight down into the mine.

“I wonder what that’s about,” Dorgun says.

Moments later, the marching boots of the Legion echo up from the mine. The soldiers emerge in formation, faces tight. Brenna follows them and goes straight to Jorvik.

“The mines are clear,” she says. “The Legion’s been recalled, and I’m returning with them. If you need anything else, request me again.”

Before Jorvik can respond, Brenna turns and follows the larger group of Legionnaires as they march toward the western tunnel. A smaller team breaks off and approaches Jorvik.

“We will remain behind. Guild orders,” the Legionnaire says. “You may enter the mines. We’ll set up in the empty cubbies.”

Jorvik nods once. “Very well. Miners, let’s go. We have work to do.”

With lamps held high and picks on their shoulders, the miners enter the mine.

Along the tunnel walls, chalk marks and measurement notes are scrawled in fresh strokes.

“Why’d they check the tunnel?”

“We widened it ourselves.”

“Don’t trust our work?”

“Guild checking up.”

“Why pull out the Legion?”

“Why leave a group of them?”

“Enough chatter,” Jorvik says. “We have work to do.”

They set their lamps and move to their stations — some to their veins, others to the pulley train leading toward the smelter.

“How do we know if anyone’s manning the smelter,” someone asks.

“Let’s send a runner,” Jorvik says. “Fenrik — go to the smelter. Tell them we’re back to work. Everyone else, you’ve got carts to fill and seams to follow.”

The song of picks and shovels rings through the air, punctuated by the drum‑beat thud of ore piling into carts. The rhythm holds steady until Fenrik returns, breathing hard and trying to catch his breath. He blurts out, rapid and panicked:

“Smelter’s cold. Legion’s doing something. Half a dozen gobbler bodies lined up on the wall. The rest are gone.”

Jorvik shouts, “Crew, halt!”

The miners freeze mid‑swing. Fenrik takes a long pull from a water flask.

“Alright, boy,” Jorvik says. “Slowly. Tell me what you saw. Everyone, come in and listen. Sounded like he said the smelter was cold.”

The miners gather around, lamps casting long shadows on the tunnel walls.

Fenrik takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“The smelter is cold. No one’s there. The Legion’s doing something with big machines — smelled like smoke — heading west. I saw gobbler bodies lined up along a wall, and the holding area’s empty. Didn’t see any Guild. I didn’t stay. Came back as quick as I could.”

“Let’s pack up and head to camp. Maybe the Legion or Elder Hadrik will know what happened.”

They gather their equipment and line up. As they go, the whispers start.

“Dead gobblers?”

“I thought they were relocating them.”

“Send them to the River people.”

“Dead’s not the kind of release I’d heard.”

“Engines of smoke?”

“Going west, not east?”

“Gobblers attacking?”

“Enough of that,” Jorvik says. “Stop with the rumors. Let’s ask those that might know.”

“Probably lie to us.”

“Or worse — Varnen might know.”

“Gives me the creeps.”

Brammir just listens to it all, wishing he were with Brenna. ‘She’d know’, he thinks.

Expansion - Chapter 16

 

Brikel – Mapping Waste Pits

On the way to the Dining Hall for Stone‑Breath, Thavrin stops Brikel. “I need you to finish what Mardek started. Can you do that?”

Brikel pauses. “I can, but what about—”

A deep rumble shakes the western road.

The engineers turn as large Legion machines roll past: carts stacked with barrels of oil, casks marked flammable, hoses coiled like snakes, bellows strapped to the sides.

Thavrin gestures toward them. “They’ll be using the tunnels you mapped as a staging area to clear out the spiders.”

Brikel nods, understanding immediately. “All right. Is Durnek helping me?”

“Yes. We need both of you out of your previous areas.”

Brikel glances at the machines again. “Are we getting masks? If they’re burning webs, the smoke will spread everywhere.”

“Before they start, I’ll have Korrvin give me an airflow plan,” Thavrin says. “I’ll tell the Legion to wait until we have that.” He turns and heads toward the Senior Legionnaires.

 

In the dining hall, Brikel grabs a plate and moves down the line as the cooks fill it. At the table, there’s a gap where Mardek usually sat.

Helka steps behind him and murmurs, “I know. I miss him too.”

“Worse,” Brikel says quietly, “Thavrin asked Durnek and me to finish mapping the waste pits.”

The engineers already seated look up — surprise, sympathy, and grim understanding passing between them.

Brikel sits and looks to Korrvin. “Thavrin needs an airflow diagram. The Legion brought machines for the spider warren.”

Korrvin shovels food into his mouth. “All right. Let me finish, then I’ll get started.”

“Which machines?” Olma asks.

Brikel shrugs. “Large carts with barrels and casks, bellows and hoses. All marked flammable. Thavrin said we’ll get masks.”

Thavrin enters with Elder Bromvek and a Senior Legionnaire. The rest of the Legion lines up behind them. Once the leadership dishes up, they sit together instead of with their people — unusual enough that the hall quiets a little.

Brikel tries to listen, but they focus on eating.

As he finishes his plate, he feels a hand on his shoulder.

Hadrun. “I’m sorry I won’t be working with you today.”

Brikel stands and shakes his hand. “Be safe. I heard some of your men were hurt yesterday.”

“Not our team, but thank you.” Hadrun squeezes his hand firmly. “We’ll be supporting the machines. Hopefully when we finish, we’ll be reassigned to you.”

“Hopefully.” Brikel smiles.

On his way to the wash basin, Elder Bromvek calls to him. “I’m sorry I haven’t had time to speak with you. If you need, I’ll be in the chapel — or an acolyte will arrive later if you want to discuss Mardek.”

Brikel gives a sad smile. “Thank you, Elder. I’ll reach out if I need.” He nods and continues to the basin.

 

Durnek and Brikel lay out their equipment and plan how to map the waste‑pits chamber. They bring all their standard ropes, chalk, and slates, plus extra metal rods and long hooks. They check the specialized low‑heat, high‑light lamps, then their grum‑tals so they can keep accurate time. The last things they unpack are their filter masks, gloves, and non‑skid boots.

“We should have done this for Mardek,” Durnek says quietly.

Brikel nods. “Yeah. But when we were new, how did we learn?”

Durnek gives a slow, sad chuckle. “My brothers wouldn’t let me into the clan hall after I had to clean out the compost beds on one of the clan farms. My father made me eat in the courtyard while I explained which tools would’ve worked better than climbing into the pit in mid‑summer.”

Brikel smiles faintly. “It was the waste canal that was blocked for me. I had to unclog it.”

They both pause.

“But we should have done better for Mardek,” Durnek says.

“Yeah,” Brikel answers. “This is a long way from the Clan Halls.”

 

Working together, they slowly and carefully measure everything starting at the opening to the cavern. Using rods and small hammers, they test the edges of the pit and find multiple pits in the gently sloping floor. They record distances, depths, and even flow times once they clear the connecting channels.

“Like a combination of our waste and compost systems,” Durnek says, his voice muffled by the protective mask.

“Yeah. I’d like to have Olmra look at this and the fungi farm,” Brikel replies.

He glances toward the southern wall—just in time to see dark, black smoke roll through the lower ventilation tubes.

“Now what?” Durnek mutters.

They both move back toward the entrance, careful and deliberate. Smoke continues to push in. The high vents pull some of it upward, but more keeps rolling through the low tubes, thick and oily.

They both note the time automatically, then gather their equipment.

“That’ll displace all the air,” Brikel says.

“They’re trying to kill us all,” Durnek remarks as they head back toward the main chamber of Stone‑Root Hearth.

Black smoke pours out of every tunnel. Engineers move as quickly as they can, searching for breathable air. The community vents draw the smoke upward, but it is thick, choking, and everywhere. They congregate near the Chapel, removing masks, wiping their faces, checking on each other.

The Legion drags several of their own out—men overcome by smoke.

“Idiots,” Yivra says, stylus still in her hand.

The Senior Legionnaire looks over his coughing, soot‑covered men. “When the smoke clears, remove the engines and return to Durnbim Hold.”

“The Legion is retreating,” Durnek whispers.

“Apparently so,” Yivra answers.

“What’s next,” Korvik coughs.

“We wait until the smoke clears,” Brikel says glumly.

Expansion - Chapter 15

 

15 – Helvar – Replaced

Helvar chimes the Bell marking Stone‑Waking. Entering the Chapel, he lays out the daily reading for Elder Dorgath, then checks on him. “Good morning, Elder. Will you need my help today, or should I continue assessing the needs of those we are relocating?”

Elder Dorgath looks up from his wash basin. “We received disturbing news last night from Root‑Stone Hearth. An engineer died. Can you ask them what they know about the area?”

“How did he die?”

“Ask the Senior Legionnaire on duty. He should have the official report.” The elder dries his face. “I shouldn’t need your help outside your official duties. You may go.”

“Thank you, Elder.” Helvar bows and leaves the chapel.

At the stone‑block building used by the Legion and the Guild, a scroll is posted by the door outlining new guard shift orders. A Legionnaire sits at the desk filling out a barkskin for the morning report.

“Senior Peacekeeper,” Helvar says politely.

The man looks up and taps the stylus against his rank mark. “Slate‑Leader, you mean.”

Helvar smiles. “Of course. Sometimes I forget.” He pauses. “I turned in my reports from yesterday’s questionings. Is there anything new I need to ask?”

The Slate‑Leader eyes Helvar’s brown acolyte robes with suspicion. “I haven’t been told anything. Though if you’re going to question any, I recommend you do it soon.”

Helvar nods. “Thank you, Slate‑Leader.”

He glances at the posted scroll. Two squads have been reassigned to tunnels previously marked as cleared. Something happened and things are changing.

He goes to his small office, gathers his notes, and has Nokom‑Shaad brought to the ‘room of questions’. He fills the teapot and grabs two cloth cups—he doesn’t want his earthenware mug today.

He arranges the room carefully. His heart is pounding. Even with changes, he must remain calm.

Nokom‑Shaad is brought to the doorway. Helvar nods for the guard to release her.

She smiles when she sees him and softly asks in Mishikwe, “How is Animishi‑wini today?”

Helvar allows himself a small smile at the nickname the Protectors have given him ‘Bringer-of-tea’. He motions for her to sit and hands her a cloth cup of warm root‑tea.

“Have you heard any news?” he asks as he pours his own cup.

“Only the rumor that feral spiders were disturbed.” She almost smiles.

“Is there something amusing about that?”

“You’re Bimkor. You know spiders need farmers to keep them calm and fed. Many months have passed since our border farms and warrens were tended. What do you think would happen?”

Helvar makes a note. “So, this wasn’t a trap laid by a Protector or border guard? Someone like you or Miiwan—Miiwan Wishka‑mii?”

“Spiders go wild like any animal left untended.” She sips. “And I think you misread your notes. Shaat‑Miiwan. Or did you mean another border guard?”

Helvar writes quickly. “What patrols have you walked with him?”

“Oh, more than once. We did the Grand Market together. I remember one time—”

The door opens.

A broad dwarf in a crisp Legion uniform enters, flanked by two Legionnaires. His rank insignia gleams.

“Stop what you are doing. Now.” He places a firm hand on Nokom’s shoulder. “I am Stone‑Captain Dargun Flint‑Reeve.”

He looks at Helvar with open disdain.

“Acolyte, your services to the Legion are no longer required. Return to your Priest.” The last word is delivered like an insult.

Helvar begins, “But I’m to—” He stops himself. “Of course, Stone‑Captain. You are correct. May I take my notes and finalize them for this morning’s report?”

Dargun glances at the barkskins written in Mishikwe and scowls. “Take them. Get out of here and translate them into proper runes.” He jerks his chin at one of his escorts. “Remove the teapot and anything else he brought.”

Helvar gathers his things quickly.

From the doorway, he hears Dargun continue in Durask: “You were a Protector. You speak Durask. You will answer my questions in Durask. Do you understand?”

Helvar closes his eyes briefly, then turns away. “A steel axe,” he mutters as he walks back to his office, “when a glass‑edged blade would do.”

He returns to the Chapel, intending to speak with Elder Dorgath. But as he reaches the doorway, he hears voices inside — sharp, clipped, and unmistakably angry.

A Guild official stands with a senior Legionnaire, both speaking to the Elder. “We know your man was getting answers,” the Guild official says, “but they were too slow. We have a dead engineer, injured Legionnaires, and a complete shutdown of all mining tunnels. All your man has done is confirm who needed to be removed from the herd before relocation.”

Helvar freezes just outside the threshold, unseen.

The Legion officer adds, “Yes, this is a matter for the Legion now. We’ll get the answers we need. Your man couldn’t even discover the traps before they were encountered.”

“But luckily,” the Guild official continues, “he did help keep the trap‑maker separate from the others.”

Trap‑maker? 

Helvar’s blood runs cold. Miiwan.

He steps back silently, heart pounding. He leaves the Chapel and moves into the courtyard, just in time to see Legionnaires pulling the Protectors out of the larger group of detainees.

He approaches one of the Legionnaires. “Where are you taking them?”

“Segregated holding,” the Legionnaire replies without emotion.

Helvar’s eyes shift toward the small cell where Miiwan has been kept. Two Legionnaires are escorting him away. Helvar steps closer. “Where are they taking him?”

“The wall,” the Legionnaire says matter‑of‑factly. “Make an example of him.”

Helvar inhales slowly, forcing his expression to remain calm. He turns away and walks back to his office. “I can’t change anything,” he whispers to himself. “Just do what’s required.”

He finishes his morning report with steady hands — the handwriting precise, controlled, betraying none of his frustration.

With the slates in hand, he returns to Elder Dorgath. “Elder,” Helvar says softly, “I have completed my duties. Because things have changed, may I request something?”

“Of course, Helvar. You’ve served well. It isn’t your fault the Guild and the Legion want to use their own people.”

“You have other acolytes here,” Helvar continues. “May I go to Root‑Stone Hearth and assist with prayers and the needs of those grieving?”

“That is an excellent idea,” the Elder says, relieved. “But I don’t think the Legion can provide you an escort.”

“I don’t require one, Elder. Durn provides the true path for the faithful. I do not fear walking in tunnels when I have His words and laws.”

The old Priest smiles warmly at such a devout answer. “Yes, you may go. I will give you a slate reassigning you to assist Elder Bromvek.”

“Thank you. Durn’s blessings be upon you, Elder.” Helvar bows, accepts the slate, and leaves the Chapel.

As he packs and deposits his morning report slates, he gives every dwarf who sees him a polite, serene smile — the smile of a dutiful acolyte hiding his anger and frustration.