I would like some honest feedback on what you think of the story so far, as I have been changing the direction of what I wanted to do a little bit, so I would like to hear (read) what you think.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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Brauzeit 22th ,2488 IC
After the deal with the dawi, I was invited to a ceremony in one of the empty halls in the residential section of the fortress. They placed long wooden tables and two bronze thrones. Little by little, the dwarfs —and dwarf women— began to sit down, as the dwarven ale started to flow.
Duran urged me to sit on the other bronze throne, and they began to celebrate like I had never seen before. They shouted in Khazalid and toasted to having returned home.
Soon, plates of freshly prepared food began to arrive. There were sausages and plenty of meat, though I couldn't identify where it came from. The dwarfs ate like the damned, and Duran was no exception. It was strange to see a dwarf smile — even stranger to see hundreds of them celebrating together.
"Come on, dawongi… don't be shy. This is in your honor. We wouldn't be here if it weren't for you," said Duran, offering me a platter of sausages and cheeses.
"Thank you," I replied. I watched as everyone ate with their hands, except in a few cases where they used forks and knives to cut large pieces of meat. I decided to follow their example. I picked up a sausage and some cheese.
I brought the sausage to my mouth… and without exaggeration, it was the best thing I had ever eaten. Unlike noble food, which drowns everything in spices, this was perfectly seasoned to highlight the natural flavors. Tender, juicy — simply perfect.
"Buah…" I exhaled as I chewed. It was impossible to hide how good it was.
The cheese had a spectacular flavor, but it was very hard. It actually hurt to bite into it — though that wasn't a problem for the powerful jaws of the dwarfs, who devoured it with ease.
My hands were covered in sausage juice, and I was looking for something to wipe them with when six dwarfs brought in a massive bronze tray. On it were roasted racks of ribs. The clan leader picked the biggest and fattest ones, split them, and shared a portion with me. Afterwards, the tray was passed down to the rest of the dwarfs.
I kept eating until I was full. The food kept coming. That's when they served me a huge tankard of dwarven ale. All the dwarfs stared at me.
"Here, dawongi… the best ale you'll ever taste. Far better than any other umgi's," said Duran, handing me the tankard.
"Duran, my friend… I hope this isn't offensive, but I'm afraid I must decline your generous offer. By your standards, I'm a fragile umgi. Drinking alcohol —any alcohol— could damage me in ways that might haunt me in the future. I must remain healthy… I am the last of my bloodline. I know many umgi would kill for this opportunity, but I do it for my health, and for the sake of my lineage," I said, lowering my head slightly. I had suffered the consequences of alcohol before. I had no desire to experience anything like cirrhosis at the age of twelve
Duran nodded, took the tankard, and passed it to one of his men, who drank it all in one gulp.
"I didn't know you were the last of your line… what happened?" asked Duran, more seriously now.
"Wars… we've had a long conflict with a noble house of the Empire. We've fought for control of my lands for nearly five human generations. My uncles and cousins died in the last war… and I suspect my father was murdered," I replied.
Silence took over the hall for a moment.
"Give me their names. Those names will go in the book," said Duran, his face twisted in fury.
"I only know they're the Kesselheims. But there's no need for you to intervene, my friends. You have your own problems, and this matter of mine is minor. Something I'll resolve on my own. No need to dirty your hands with those cowards," I said, lowering my tone to calm the situation.
I didn't want a group of angry dwarfs marching to burn Altdorf just to avenge my grievances.
"I understand… dawongi, if that is your wish, I will not intervene. But if at any point you need our assistance, don't hesitate to ask," Duran replied, placing his hand on his chest.
"There is indeed something I'd like you to do for me specifically, but I think this should be discussed in private, considering it's a family secret… something that, if it works, could make both of us very rich," I said.
The dawi spoke in Khazalid, stood up, and gestured for me to follow him into a room that was empty, with just a few bare tables behind the grand hall.
"All right, dawongi… what's this secret deal you want to make that could fill the empty coffers of my clan?" said the dwarf with complete sincerity.
"I'm telling you this in full confidence, my mountain friend. My trade is alchemy. Within the Empire, I doubt anyone is better at it than me — but among the dawi, I might just be a decent alchemist. The problem is that I don't have a proper laboratory. I have pieces crafted by a runesmith — the same one who made my armor — but I need a large, spacious lab where I can produce in large quantities, and more importantly, that's easy to defend from political enemies… and safe in case of an accidental explosion," I said while pulling out one of the paper cartridges containing smokeless powder.
Duran didn't speak; he simply kept running his hand through his beard in silence while he listened to me.
"This is one of my best creations… but not perfect…" I said, opening the paper cartridge and letting the smokeless powder fall. "This is nitrocellulose, or smokeless powder. I need a better lab to make my cordite, which is a mix of this and another material, and then I'd have the most powerful, stable powder — and one that doesn't produce smoke."
I saw Duran's mouth fall open.
"You're telling me you created something that even the best dwarven alchemists have tried to improve for millennia… on your own?" said the thane, visibly skeptical.
"That's right, look," I said, pulling out a flint and a piece of rough metal, striking them to make a spark that ignited the powder. It flashed but burned away quickly, producing no smoke at all.
"Morgrim would be proud of this creation," said Duran.
"Not yet… it's not perfect… it's not stable. It's dangerous if not used correctly. My armies use it, but I want something even more stable, something that can be used safely. And that's where you come in. If you help me with the laboratory, I'll teach you the secret of its production, and we'll be partners in the sale. You'll sell it in the dawi market, and I'll sell it in the Imperial market. Obviously, as the creator and developer of the formula, you'll have to give me the larger share of the pie, since I was the one who nearly blew myself up making it, ha ha," I said as I put away the flint.
"We'll be the ones providing the workers for your laboratory?" asked the thane, very interested.
"Yes, but my laboratory will also produce other things, so I would recommend that you build your own later on. If we manage to sell the powder at good prices, we'll become the sole producers of the finest powder available, which will bring huge profits to both of us. You'll fill your empty coffers, and I'll have funds to keep feeding my armies… and, of course, to help you fight the greenskins and wipe out the rats of House Kesselheim," I said, standing tall and placing my hands on my hips.
"I'm interested. The tin mines, though honest work, won't help fill my vaults if I need to defend my Karak. But… how much would the clan get for the work we'll be doing?" asked the dawi thane.
"I was thinking of a 70/30 split of the total profits. I'll handle acquiring the materials, since many have to come via sea routes that may be hard to secure. Some ingredients come from Araby. For now, I have a plan to produce some of the raw materials I need in Reinsfeld, but that will be for next year. For now, all our focus must be on my laboratory," I said, extending my hand.
"So we just provide the workers and our engineers, eh… seems like a generous deal on your part, dawongi," said Duran, shaking my hand as strongly as before.
I endured it, feeling like my hand was about to break, and then we returned to the great hall, where the dwarfs were still eating and celebrating.
Duran began calling various members of his clan, ranging from bronze-bearded dwarfs to elders with long white beards, who started speaking in Khazalid beside me, as if they were discussing important matters.
As the ceremony went on, part of the food table in front of us was cleared, and Duran disappeared for a few minutes until he returned carrying the Dammaz Kron. Then he began speaking loudly in Khazalid. I understood almost nothing, only a few words from the dawi lexicon like umgi, dawi, dammaz… words that repeated very quickly.
Meanwhile, Duran held the book open before all members of the clan and began reading each line of the grievances. When he read a line and the dwarfs looked angry, it seemed to be an unresolved grievance that they would have to deal with soon. When he read a line and the dwarfs cheered, Duran would cross it out with a reddish ink.
This continued for quite a while, going through every page of the Dammaz Kron.
When they finished, beer was served again, and the dwarfs kept drinking.
This went on for what seemed like two hours — just watching dwarfs get drunk, at the height of joy for having returned to their ancestral home and, more importantly, for striking grievances from the Dammaz Kron.
When everything finally seemed to be winding down and the dwarfs returned to their usual tasks, I met again with the clan's thane, but this time with several dwarfs who began asking me what exactly I wanted for my laboratory.
"Dawongi, our thane told us about the contract you reached… that you would teach us about smokeless powder," said a dwarf who looked like an engineer. "But in return, you want us to build something for you. I need to know exactly what it is you're asking for," he said, crossing his arms.
"Look, I need something around 500 square meters… here's what one meter looks like exactly, and a square meter is one meter long by one meter wide, with ten meters of height, all underground.
I want it built at the entrance of the tin mine. That'll be the base structure, and around it, I want you to build a fortress. I'll leave that design entirely up to your expertise, but within the space I'm specifying, I need you to divide the wings as follows…" I began to carefully list everything I needed to produce gunpowder on a large scale, as well as pigments.
The engineer took the rod measuring exactly one meter and a rope of one hundred meters with a knot every meter, and began writing things down as he listened to my instructions.
"As for the runes…" said another dwarf, who looked incredibly muscular. "What do you need on your tools?"
"I need them to be resistant to temperature changes or violent chemical reactions, protection from corrosion… and I need the following runes with these specifications—" I once again began explaining everything required to safely produce gunpowder at scale, and what was needed to manufacture nitroglycerin without being blown to bits.
And so I spent several hours speaking with the dwarfs, explaining everything I needed. Once it was all discussed, Duran returned with a contract written partly in dwarven runes and partly in Reikspiel, containing everything we had agreed upon.
He signed it with a rune, and I signed it by writing my name in the most elegant manner I could.
The pact that would make me rich and powerful… and that would do the same for the dwarfs.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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