Underkeeper

Iriala adjusted the hem of her formal robes and adopted a professionally stern expression as the Duergar diplomat was led into the great hall by a sweaty-looking Commander Righmond. The hall wasn’t particularly large, but the windows that lined both sides of the room compensated somewhat, letting the pre-dawn light in and giving the place a greater sense of depth.

The ambassador looked almost like a normal dwarf, except for his ash-gray skin and weirdly dead eyes. She was sitting behind the count and to his left, acting mostly as an observer to this meeting alongside several other guild officers representing the adventurers, the rangers, and the berserkers. General Arice sat to the count’s right, alongside several other military officers. The seats that would ordinarily be filled by priests and paladins for an event like this were notably empty. Word of the dwarves’ reliance on demons had already spread like wildfire throughout the city, and Iriala assumed the count didn’t want them spoiling negotiations before they even started.

“Ambassador Janis of the Duergar Empire, my lord,” Righmond croaked, sounding like a damned toad and somewhat spoiling the pageantry. Count Narald really needed to get a proper herald for occasions like this.

General Arice, in an unexpected display of competence, had released one of the Duergar prisoners they’d captured yesterday to bring a message back to their people. While the man didn’t strike her as much of a general, it seemed he did at least consider political solutions to problems before skipping straight to open war. And it had worked—so far, at least. The attacks had stopped, and Janis there had appeared alongside his retinue in the wee hours of the morning. She supposed the timing was an accident—Duergar could hardly be expected to plan their lives according to the day and night cycle.

The diplomat looked grumpy, probably because he’d been made to wait for hours so that everyone required for this meeting could be summoned. He bowed before the count and introduced himself in nearly unaccented Beseri.

“Your lordship, I bring greetings on behalf of the Duergar Empire,” he began. “My government wishes to express its regrets for the unprovoked hostilities visited upon your forces in the past day. We have worked hard for years to clear the dragon’s nest of the vermin who occupied it. Due to our recent success in breaching their defenses, our soldiers may have been somewhat… overenthusiastic.”

Iriala suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. As if the attacking Duergar hadn’t noticed they weren’t fighting kobolds.

Narald inclined his head graciously. She couldn’t see the man’s face well from where she was sitting, but she saw him lean forward with interest.

“I see. Does this mean, then, that you have defeated the dragon and his horde of kobolds? We sought to engage them yesterday, but we found only yourselves after breaching their first line of defense.”

“My government would be willing to exchange information on this matter, provided that you share with us your own experience regarding these vermin.”

Narald looked toward Arice, who nodded at him.

“Very well,” the count allowed. “General, if you please.”

In a few short sentences, Arice outlined the kobolds’ activities over the past few weeks, omitting how much the creatures had damaged the city as well as the fact that they’d managed to kill a significant portion of the city’s adventurers.

At least the man wasn’t stupid enough to hand the dwarf a list of their strategic weaknesses.

As he talked, she watched the dwarf. He was strange, unnatural somehow. He didn’t blink quite often enough, and his expression was blank, though it slipped into more of a dour frown as he listened.

When the general finished, the ambassador gave a nod, as if lining up the facts in his own mind. Then he stood up a little straighter and began to relate his own version of events. His words were polite, but his tone was flat and dead, just like his expression.

“The enemy’s forces launched an offensive against us just a few days ago, which we repelled. When we pushed them back to their fortifications, we found them poorly defended, and punched through. We believed that they may have overextended themselves, yet when we drove deeper into their warren, we found only empty chambers. We believe it likely that the dragon has relocated. Knowing what we do of Conperion, however, we will continue to treat him as an ongoing threat to the Empire and work to eliminate him.”

“I see.” Narald scratched at his chin. “And do you intend to continue hostilities against us, or would you be amenable to discussing a cessation of hostilities?”

Janis bowed, as if he’d been waiting for this line. “We would be amenable, of course, your lordship.” He looked up, baring his teeth in an odd sort of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “My government has already instructed our forces not to approach your lines—they will hold the positions they have already gained, but make no further moves for the time being.”

Iriala shivered. This gray dwarf gave her the creeps. He said all of the right things, sure, but there was something profoundly wrong with him. Diplomats were supposed to be intelligent, eloquent, and charismatic. This dwarf was about as personable as a lizardman. If this was their ambassador, what was the average Duergar like? They had no official dealings with Besermark, and no known interests on the surface, but that didn’t reassure her at all. Whatever agreement they came to today, the count and the general needed to treat this as a long-term problem.

Hopefully, they didn’t have their heads up their asses too far to see that.

***

“So, you saved a kobold hatchling to help Ed get the information he needed about the dragon… How did you get it placed at the orphanage? There’s no way they would just casually decide to allow a random kobold with an egg to live in the city.”

Bernt and Jori had arrived at work only to find Ed shut in his office with Iriala, apparently discussing something in private. It seemed strange to go to work at all after the last few days—but Ed hadn’t told them not to show up. That, and Bernt didn’t have anything better to do anyway.

They settled down in a comfortable spot near the communal stove. Most of the others were already sitting around in the main room, waiting for instructions. Nobody seemed too interested in bothering the newcomers.

Jori grinned up at him smugly. “I helped him! He is my minion—I’m going to keep him and teach him to find clogs in the sewers for me!”

Bernt stared down at her, too flabbergasted to respond for a second.

“Your… minion,” he said, after a moment. “Did you talk to him?”

Jori nodded happily. “Yes. We made a deal!”

“What sort of deal, exactly?” Bernt asked very carefully.

“I said that I would keep him and his egg safe and now he has to do what I want!” Jori said. “It’s a great deal!”

Bernt relaxed, exhaling softly. So it was just an informal agreement. He was glad to know there was no pact involved—not that a kobold hatchling would know how to form a proper pact.

“Jori, what exactly happens if he disobeys you?”

Jori frowned, eyes scrunching up in confusion. “What? He wouldn’t do that!” she protested. Then she huffed and shook her head. “I would smack him on the head and then he would listen to me!”

Bernt was considering whether that meant anything when they were interrupted by an opening door. Iriala emerged, looking serious. She nodded at the Underkeepers as she passed, but left without making conversation. Bernt supposed she had her own business to be about.

A moment later, Ed came out, looking weary.

“Good. Looks like most of you are here.” He settled himself down on a wooden bench next to Dayle, lighting his pipe as he did.

“We’re not technically responsible for any of this, but I want to make sure you all know what’s going on,” he began. “The damned dragon is gone, according to both the Duergar ambassador and the only kobold we managed to extract from the dungeon yesterday. Assuming we believe that, we still have what sounds like a big army of foreign dwarves under the city. The count just signed an armistice with them, trying to head off a war.”

The image of the berserk demon dwarf flashed before Bernt’s eyes and he shuddered at the memory. He scoffed in disbelief. “The ones that attacked us didn’t look like they were interested in being good neighbors.”

A few of the Underkeepers made noises of agreement. By the sound of it, Bernt wasn’t the only one who’d tangled with the Duergar yesterday.

Ed nodded in acknowledgment, waving a hand to settle them down. “Iriala was in the meeting and has about the same opinion of our new neighbors. The ambassador apparently didn’t make a great impression with the count, either. Still, the armistice will buy the general a bit of time to get his head out of his ass and build up proper defenses. If we’re lucky, the crown might even send somebody serious to help deal with the threat.”

Dayle cleared his throat. “So, Ed. What does that mean for us? Do they still expect us to help defend the city? If the dragon’s gone, aren’t we just back to being glorified maintenance workers?”

The archmage shrugged. “For now. We’ll be dragged in again as soon as the fighting starts, I’m sure. It’s not official. Hopefully, Narald, or at least Gerold, will plan ahead and give us a proper budget to work with.”

Ed looked around, meeting everyone’s eyes. “I know none of you signed up for this. The Underkeepers aren’t supposed to fight anything more dangerous than slimes or mutant rat men. If you don’t have the stomach for real fighting, you should quit as soon as you can and leave the city. You might face retaliation if you were forced into your job here, but they won’t kill you for it. Whenever this farce of an armistice breaks down, it’ll be too late—they’re doing to draft everyone with a lick of training to join the fighting.”

Bernt swallowed and Uriah looked around uncertainly. Nobody said anything.

“Alright, get out of here,” Ed said. He scowled tiredly at nothing before looking up and meeting their eyes. “Take the day off and think about it. Don’t wait too long.”

As the others left, Bernt approached Ed, pulling the leather roll of reagents out of his bag as he did.

“Ed! Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Mm?” Ed grunted around his pipe. He looked down at the bundle in Bernt’s hands.

“Ehm, I got something off one of the Duergar yesterday,” Bernt said, feeling awkward. He held it out. “You mentioned the need for a proper budget, and I figure that’s partly my fault, at least. I cost you quite a bit of gold in my… uh… negotiation with the alchemists.”

Ed snorted. “Son. That was about communication more than money. It was worth it. If you want to thank me, work on adapting to your new investiture and get started on the next one as soon as you can. I have a feeling that having a proper pyromancer around is going to come in pretty handy in the coming months—and I very much doubt that Arice is going to lend me any of his.”

When Bernt didn’t pull the bundle back, Ed reached out and took it, unrolling it a little bit to see what was inside. When he saw, his eyes widened and he whistled appreciatively.

“That’s… not bad. Luminescent cave mushrooms, a vial of demon’s blood, elemental water…” The archmage shook his head. “Not bad. Some of this stuff is worth real money. It’s not just for warlocks—a few mages over at the guild would probably kill to use these for research on ritual magic. And alchemists use all kinds of reagents, of course. Are you sure you don’t want to hold on to this?”

Bernt stood up straighter. “No, sir. You helped me out—both me and Jori. I want to give something back.”

Ed watched him appraisingly for a moment, then nodded and took it.