Heavy footsteps echo, growing faster and louder. The screams have stopped — now only the sound of boots striking stone fills the air, contrasting with three ragged breaths.
- Lady Marion, you alright?
- I could've dealt with them by myself... if I weren't hurt.
Marion tries to stand, clutching her wounded arm. Blood still drips steadily as she sways. Valerie's face turns pale, her gaze fixed on the red stain spreading across Marion's sleeve. Her eyes are distant... blank, almost hollow.
Baliot places a heavy hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle silent shake.
- Valerie. You with us, love?
- Oh — I am sorry. Yes... here, let me wrap this around your wound.
Valerie tears a strip from the hem of her red dress and ties it tightly around Marion's bicep. A flicker of regret crosses her eyes. "If I hadn't left her alone..."
- Thanks, sweetie. Hey, shorty. Those two weren't alone. I took down three more at the tunnel entrance.
- Five intruders, then. Is that all?
- No, they are patrolling the woods at the back of the fortress. The dwarven stronghold must be surrounded by now. I was able to seal the door before they slash my arm.
- I need to warn the Lord.
- I don't know what's happening, but this is too dangerous. We have to get out of here. Shorty, is there another way out besides those stairs?
- There's a tunnel on the north side of the fortress, near the fields. It leads straight to the nearest town. But that quarter's heavily guarded.
As the two speak, Valerie's own words return to her — I'm not running away — but now... she isn't so sure anymore. She is so lost in her thoughts, she doesn't even notice that Baliot is no longer with them.
"Marion's worse than before... I can't leave her alone..." The thick scent of blood burns her nose, the echoing footsteps won't stop pounding in her ears... "But the dwarves..."
Her thoughts spiral. Regret claws at her chest as she wishes she had never left the castle. "What can I do to help?! Am I of any help at all...? I never left the castle before... If I knew the outside world was this terrifying... What am I even doing here? I'm just a burden..."
Valerie's legs give out. Her knees hit the cold, hard floor — not as painfully as regret hits her courage. Physically and mentally beaten down, Valerie covers her face in despair.
Was she right to come back and help the dwarves? Was it right to leave Marion alone? Was it right to run to help some and leave others to fend for themselves? Should she have weighed the consequences?
She chose the dwarves, and Marion got hurt. But if she had chosen Marion, would the dwarves be safe?
Valerie presses her hands harder against her face. "Choices are hard..."
- Valerie!? What happened, love?
- You should leave me behind... I am just a burden...
Her voice came out barely a whisper, almost lost beneath the distant rumble of collapsing stone above them.
Marion, sits against the wall, letting out a faint, tired laugh — not mocking, but warm.
- A burden, huh? That's a funny way to describe the girl who just threw herself at a man twice her size.
Valerie doesn't answer. Resting her hands on her thighs, her eyes trace Marion's wounded arm from top to bottom, then fix on the floor as another drop of blood falls.
- You think this wound's your fault, don't you?
Valerie blinks, startled by the sudden sharpness in her tone.
- If I hadn't left you—
- I'd still be bleeding, love. You think the world bends around your choices that much? I got hit because I fought hurt from the start. Not because you left.
For a moment, silence wavers between them — just the echo of their uneven breathing and the faraway chaos above. Then Marion's voice lowers, almost breaking.
- You know what I saw back there? Not a delicate butterfly. Not a scared doll.
I saw someone who stood when everyone else would've frozen or run. When injustice happened right in front of you, you stepped forward. You saved him. You saved me. That's what matters.
Valerie's throat tightens. Her eyes glisten with tears threatning to fall, but she forced herself to meet Marion's gaze.
- I was terrified.
- Good. So was I. That's how you know you still care. Now stop punishing yourself for being human.
Marion smiles faintly, brushing a lonely tear from Valerie's cheek with her good hand.
- You want to help them, don't you? Then help. But do it because you chose to... not because you owe anyone.
Something inside Valerie cracks — not in weakness, but release. The fear doesn't vanish. But it no longer rules her.
She stands.
Her breathing steadies.
Her eyes harden.
- ...I'm not running away. I want to help them. Please, Mr. Baliot. Take me to the most authoritative person in the dwarven kingdom.
Baliot, who had just returned from moving and tying up the five soldiers, nods — confident in the girl standing before him. No questions asked. His trust had been earned. Now, there were a hundred more dwarves to go.
- We must go to the Tower of Rasputin.
Valerie's eyes burn fiercely, fixed on the old dark wooden ceiling. Chunks of dirt and dust fall over them with each thunderous explosion echoing through the halls.
- Lead the way!!
They turn right and hurry up the narrow stone stairs.
At the top, they can see dwarves rushing back and forth with heavy, finely crafted weapons. Though frantic, none moved without purpose. They were preparing for something big.
The ceiling of the room is high — too high for a dwarven home, yet fitting for a fortress. Light streams through narrow openings, catching the gleam of sharp blades and perfectly crafted armour. The tall pillars extend to the roof in the shape of a v, each pillar detailed with a small handcraft ensign. A brick tower, crowned by a cone-shaped roof guarded by two crossed hammers.
- This is the Grand Hall. We need to reach that small door on the right — the kitchen door.
- Kitchen? Aren't we supposed to go to a tower?
Marion's confusion is a bit too loud, and two dwarves turn in their direction. For a moment, their breaths catch. Then, a loud metallic crash echoes through the hall, drawing everyone's attention. The dwarves drop what they're doing and rush toward the opposite door.
Two sharp glances fly toward Marion, making her quick apology shrink to a whisper.
- Sorry...
- The kitchen's a short cut.
Valerie, Marion, and Baliot crouch low to stay unseen as Baliot lead the way toward the meeting room of the Deep Council, located at the highest floor of the Tower of Rasputin.
The exit from the kitchen opens into a long corridor lined with countless doors and turns. The cracks in the bricks were the only things that changed after each corner — everything else looked eerily the same. Old doors alternated between rusted iron and aged wood. The air hung heavy, thick with dust and the faint scent of oil and smoke. Candle lanterns mounted on the walls were their only light. Perfectly spaced from one another, the small flames flickered weakly inside their glass prisons, painting the stone passage in wavering shades of gold.
Carefully following Baliot's back, feet light as feathers, the two women breathe quietly. But after some time, a loud sigh breaks the silence.
- Sigh... Shorty, where even is that Tower of... whoever? We've been going in circles. At this rate, we're going to get caught!
- Not in circles, Lady Marion. The second corridor on the right had two wooden doors and five iron ones. Plus, one of the candles was out — the third one, if my memory serves me right. We haven't seen any more candles out, and according to the turns we've taken, we've been heading northeast from the kitchen. Though we've been walking for quite a while... how much farther is it, Mr. Baliot?
They stare at her, astonished.
- What?! Did I say something wrong...?
Baliot and Marion exchange a glance, silently wondering if perhaps they're the ones missing something.
- The door right ahead leads to the tower's staircase. Please, move quietly. The guards may be nearby.
Heavy footsteps echo, accompanied by hurried breathing as they take the next step forward. Startled, they immediately crouch together.
A dwarf bursts from the intersection ahead, nearly slipping as he turns left, sprinting straight toward the staircase door. He slams into it with a loud thud — his head jerks back, but he barely pauses before throwing the door open and rushing up the tall tower.
- Ahah! What was that? You shorties sure are laughable creatures.
Baliot grunts.
- Lady Marion, restrain yourself. Let's follow him.
- Your words are my orders, princess.
Valerie's heart falters for a moment. A quick shake of her head chases away the thought. There was no time to worry about her identity now.
The staircase was wide, without a single crack in sight — clearly well maintained and precious. Silver and gold entwined along the sides in perfect harmony, forming intricate patterns that flowed with the spiral as it climbed upward. Two narrow, pointed arch windows let in beams of sunlight, casting sharp streaks across the steps. A line of small candle lanterns hung from the center of the tower, descending all the way down. Some hung higher, others lower, but all were unlit — their glass and freshly polished chains still catching glimmers of sunlight.
The air there carries a sense of grandeur.
As they climb, faint voices begin to echo from above, growing clearer with every turn.
When they finally reach the top, the stairs open into a broad landing. A massive stone wall stands before them, and at its center, an enormous door lies open — light spilling out from within. The voices are coming from there.
Baliot raises a hand, signaling them to stop. Quietly, they press themselves against the section of wall that extends beside the doorway. That's the only patch of shadow left to hide in. From there, Valerie and Marion peek through the edge, just enough to glimpse the room beyond without being seen.
Valerie's pulse quickens, her breath shallow. Whatever is being discussed inside that chamber is not meant for outsiders' ears.