Story 1 of 2 for Patreons to soon vote for! The other will be Halo and whichever story wins I'll also be doing the same four chapters ahead on Patreon as an Early Access benefit. Also, Title is pending so if it wins have some suggestions ready!
Chapter 2
“Brilliant work, my dear. General Hath is singing your praises and the men of our war camps uphold you as a symbol of national pride. Congratulations on your grand victory!”
My father was quite enthusiastic. Rightfully so, by my estimation. Without me and my tactics as well as prodigious application of battlefield spellcraft, Alterac would be on the backfoot against the numerically superior Stromgarde forces. But now, now things were quite different indeed.
We sat together in a private dining room in the royal keep. The long wooden table was well lit under crystal chandeliers, their light filling the room. A large meal was laid out before us. Roast venison with honey and herbs, buttered vegetables, fresh bread still warm fresh from the oven, and small pastries filled with spiced fruit toppings. It was so much better than the rations I had to put up with in my second life.
“Thank you, Father, but only the first phase is complete. The next step will be to fortify the high passes. We’ve already begun, but guard towers and the few cannon-backed fortifications aren’t sufficient. I want them unassailable and for that I need the aid of the dwarves of Khaz Modan.”
He rubbed at his chin thoughtfully.
“The dwarves are insular by nature. Gruff, taciturn, they lack the refinement of our people. Do you truly think we need their aid? You’ve run Trollbane’s forces into the ground. It will be sometime before he returns, especially with you thwarting him at every turn!”
There is no chance I am going to get stuck on the frontlines for every border skirmish. No!
“I’m afraid many tricks and stratagems will only work once. He will hire mages, spend resources on better scouting, perhaps something else. Who can say? No, I believe we need a permanent solution. A defensive series of bastions that would make it impossible for any sizeable army to cross without being annihilated by our guns.”
He sighed. “I suppose it is better than losing the land and the coin we get from the folk that till it. Still, I had hoped we could expand the city. Add more fountains, create a status to our ancestors, and improve sewers.”
“In time, father. But once we have our defenses in place, we might even be able to decrease the number of footmen in our military. We don’t yet know what the dwarves will want. I suspect some of the whiskies we brew, lumber, perhaps mana-crystals for their runesmiths. The cost is something the treasury can bear, and your city improvements can always be done later.” I pause and lean forward. “Please, Father, this may be our chance to secure the peace for generations.”
“I trust you, Beve. But it will depend on what dwarves want. If they are too greedy, or ask too high a price, then we will have to deny them.”
Losing the high passes and then losing the lower valleys will be far more expensive!
I smiled. “The details must still be worked out, but I would like a budget to work with when I visit them.”
“Wait, you, visit them? Why? You should be here in case this is a feint by Stromgarde. What if this is a ruse and they are waiting for us to lower our guard. With you gone, what will happen if they come?”
Of all the…
“Father, you still have General Hath. We hold the high ground and can see for leagues from our guard towers. Small groups might slip through, but anything larger than a dozen will be spotted. Their army has taken losses, their morale is low, and the conflict is unpopular. He will not attack again this year. Next year is possible, but even that remains unlikely.”
I spoke with absolute certainty, though not all of it was deserved. Stromgarde would not attack this year, but next year was more likely than I let on. It didn’t matter. I would be back by then, and with any luck the first dwarven siege works would already be in place, rendering our position nearly unassailable.
Nothing was invincible. My fortifications could be breached under the right conditions. If Stromgarde somehow fielded thousands of additional knights, or secured an alliance with the elves of Quel’Thalas, we would have a problem. Barring something that absurd, however, they held no meaningful advantage over us.
My father still looked pensive, but he took a drink from his expensive vintage before nodding. A deep crimson Alteraci, prized in Lordaeron and sold for a small fortune. If he balked at the cost of securing this agreement with Ironforge, I would have little patience for the hypocrisy of watching him drink away what could have safeguarded our borders.
“Very well, if you think going in person will hasten this effort, then you have my blessing. For the budget… I will have the numbers for you before you depart.”
Relief flickered across my face as I raised my cup of warm chocolate milk. Alcohol was counterproductive to a developing body, while milk provided actual nutritional value that would allow me to grow properly.
“I won’t let you down.”
***
Muradin Bronzebeard was among the most travelled of dwarves in the Kingdom of Ironforge. His elder brother, King Magni remained on the throne, so it was Muradin who acted as the chief diplomat and liaison to other realms. He had been to Stormwind, Lordaeron, Kul Tiras, and Stromgarde. When the young daughter of King Aiden Perenolde arrived, it had fallen to him to greet her and discuss her desire for trade.
The Great Forge roared in the distance as they met in one of the outer halls. The air was thick with the heat of molten metal and the constant rumble of hammers on anvils. Lava channels glowed along the edges of the cavern, venting just enough to keep the place from overwhelming the hall. Muradin noticed the human princess wasn’t sweating much despite the warmth.
“Welcome to Ironforge, lass. The beatin’ heart of Khaz Modan. I trust ye found your accommodations to your liking.”
Princess Beve smiled and assured him they were perfect. The dwarves did not have many beds sized for humans, but they had some. Not that she was all that tall for a human, but she still stood a foot higher than him. She was rail-thin in his eyes, but then, most humans were built that way. None of the solid sturdiness of a proper dwarf.
“Let’s do this, then. What do ye seek from us?”
“I am impressed with dwarven craftsmanship. Your cannons, your demolition devices, and your blunderbusses. What Alterac desires is the knowhow to produce these things ourselves. We do not just wish for these arms, but the aid and assistance in developing our own industry for it. My father wishes this done safely and our hope is an agreement for a small group of your dwarves to help us establish this industry within our nation’s borders.”
Muradin stroked his long brown beard.
“Ye ask for much. Perhaps too much. We trade with you humans for these things. Good black powder, solid barrels, the works. It may not be in our best interest to show you how we do it. Our runesmiths have spent generations perfecting the craft since the days after the War of the Three Hammers.”
“A valid point, but Kul Tiras produces black powder as well. We could go to them, but they aren’t as advanced as Ironforge and I understand they have had more accidents than your people do. I admit, I do not know what all Ironforge wishes, but I have several trade goods that I believe may interest your people. Alterac has untouched forests that could be used for quality timber. We make some whiskies and other alcoholic beverages your people may enjoy. Mana crystals, arcane dust, and the like can be used by your runesmiths. We are very open to any ideas you may have.” She paused. “And, depending on our agreement, my father is open to the idea of export controls. Our weaponry will be used for Alterac alone and not traded to other human nations. Which allows Ironforge to continue its trade business unhindered.”
Muradin knew some of those goods would be helpful, but the details would need to be worked out. The restriction on trade was a welcome concession, but such a thing would be difficult to rely on. Humans were not always trustworthy with their word. And it was also a large undertaking to move dwarves and start things from scratch. His brother might go for it, but Muradin himself was aware that Alterac and their neighbor regularly warred with each other. Their King wanted dwarven weapons and that may cause problems with neighboring Stromgarde.
“Aye, Ironforge’s no quarrel with others, but with your troubles with Stromgarde, I doubt they’d let goods pass freely between us.”
“A problem, to be sure, Lordaeron is more accommodating and we can pass them through Southshore. Timber and ore would require large quantities to be transported, but arcane dust, crystals, and alcohol would not take much to transport. It all depends on the deal we can make, Prince Muradin.”
“Bah, just Muradin is fine, I don’t stand on formality.”
She graced him with a smile. “Excellent, just call me Beve as well. Now, what is a reasonable cost for twenty dwarves to spend three years in Alterac setting up our industry? They would have every creature comfort we can reasonably provide, food, drink, homes, and the like.”
Muradin appreciated the swiftness witch which she wished to negotiate, but he wasn’t the king.
“Aye, I’ll take that to my brother. What’s your offer for it?”
Again, a smile bloomed on her face. “As I do not know your needs or desires, I’ll wait until you tell me what is reasonable. A price in timber may not be feasible due to logistical constraints. I do not know what you value and how, so I’d prefer to wait until you make such an offer and we can discuss from there.”
She isn’t slow for a human.
“I’ll bring it before the king and have an answer in a day or two.”
“Thank you, in the interim, can you or someone else share more of your dwarven history? I am deeply curious and gaining a greater understanding will help me welcome your engineers when they arrive.”
Muradin grinned beneath his beard. He’d had just about two centuries of life and was keen on the way people used their words. He was proud of his people and had no qualms of sharing their history. It was tragic in some ways. The old split between the Dark Irons and the Wildhammers was never far from his mind, but he still believed unity could occur one day. He knew the humans were even more fractured than the dwarves. Never one to miss the chance to tell a rousing good tale, he took on the task of educating the young noble from Alterac himself.
***
The dwarves were hospitable. I was glad I had my magic; otherwise the heat would have been quite irritating. Ironforge was quite impressive and, while I had never visited Quel’Thalas, I very much doubted they were as advanced as the dwarves.
Ironforge itself was… formidable. Not merely in size, but in purpose. Everything here served industry. The great cavern was carved with intent rather than ornament, its vaulting ceilings supported by pillars thick as towers, each etched with runes that likely held meaning beyond simple decoration. Lava ran in controlled channels like veins through the city, feeding the forges and foundries with a precision that spoke of generations of refinement. Nothing was wasted. Nothing was accidental.
The sound never ceased. Hammer on anvil, the grinding of stone, the hiss of quenching metal. It formed a constant rhythm. It was jarring at first, but I soon became used to it.
The dwarves moved through it all with ease, as though born to the heat and noise. Stocky frames, yes, but more importantly, efficient ones. No wasted motion, no idle wandering. Even their revelry, what little I had seen of it, seemed structured. Drink, song, and then back to work. Their stamina and endurance were just as the stories had stated.
Though I had never set foot in Quel’Thalas, I found it difficult to believe they could match this. The elves might possess beauty, grace, and mastery of the arcane, but this… this was something else. A civilization built for industry. It made my capitalistic heart sing to see so many hands work so efficiently. From Muradin, I understood a bit more about the dwarven economy. There was regulation set by the state that operated a bit like the medieval guild model, but by and large any dwarf who had completed their apprenticeship could open a shop as they saw fit. From there, price discovery and skill mattered. If you could create better goods than your peers, then you would be more successful in business. It was wonderful.
The regulations that existed to ensure negative externalities did not cause friction were managed pragmatically and the dwarven system, as far as I could tell, was remarkably lacking in corruption. If you set up an industry or shop near the Great Forge, that was fine as long as your byproduct did not negatively affect the workings of others. This was better than the modern era that went overboard, but also an improvement on the current complete lack of controls in some places. Being able to set up a tannery next to residential housing in Alterac was less than ideal. The odor and runoff made life miserable.
Naturally, people would complain and bring the matter forward to government. But by then, it was often too late and if the peasants lacked coin to make a proper bribe, well, that was that. Endure or move. As an ardent believer in free-market capitalism, I understood that proper zoning, when done with a minimal hand, was essential to well-run cities and industries. Ironforge had the near-perfect mix.
I wish I was born a dwarf!
Being long-lived would have also been nice. But alas, I couldn’t expect to get everything. The negotiations had begun in earnest and my initial volley had proven useful. I didn’t need twenty dwarves; I needed intellectual knowledge and oversight. I could just as well do it with five good dwarves who knew their craft. By anchoring the discussion on twenty, I could begin negotiations for specific amounts and then try to proportionally lower those amounts by the same ratio of fewer dwarves. Naturally, the issue was intellectual property and knowledge, and the dwarves weren’t stupid, but these sorts of framing efforts would hopefully prove useful in lowering the final cost.
The first solid offer hit me like a gut punch. A thousand barrels of high-quality alcohol and spirits. Four hundred wagon-loads of prime timber. Sixty crates of mana crystals and arcane dust as well as twenty thousand gold pieces. The clause about not exporting any of our human-made black powder devices to other nations was included and would last for fifty years.
“Ah, Muradin, perhaps you have forgotten that my nation is much smaller and poorer than ones like Lordaeron. I fear that is quite outside of the realm of possibility, especially due to the requirements of shipping goods through a Lordaeron-controlled harbor.”
“Aye, I thought much the same, but the price is the price.”
I didn’t want to counteroffer yet, so I probed a bit more, potentially looking for alternatives before I brought things down.
“Are there other considerations you might wish to ask to lower the asking price? Perhaps a permanent dwarven embassy with Alterac where dwarven merchants can open businesses. They could be exempt from certain taxes, allowing them to prosper. Or perhaps we could lend you some mages that could assist with dealing with troggs or ice trolls. While your people are fearsome fighters, they lack magic and that can create some tactical difficulties. I would be even willing to demonstrate personally.”
Muradin’s eyebrows raised. “And your father be all right with that? You do be an ambassador, what if ye are injured?”
“I’m a veteran of a number of battles and the lead the efforts to repel King Trollbane’s latest incursion. Remember, my friend, humans age more swiftly than dwarves.”
He eyed me suspiciously, because while that was true, I was still younger than I should be fighting. Especially, for a mage.
“We are content here in Khaz Modan, well most of us that is. I do not see the opportunity to open up merchants within Alterac as changing things. The offer of mages, well, that has some appeal, but I’m afraid it will not adjust things as much as you might hope.”
We bargained and they knocked down a hundred wagons of timber in exchange for a dozen mages to serve over the next ten years. Things were still looking dire, but I pushed on and suggested halving it in exchange for half the dwarves. Muradin said he would need to take it back to the king and the horse-trading was on.
All in all, my father would probably murder me. In total we would be gaining six dwarves, two were proper runesmiths experienced in forging and four were ‘lesser’ engineers. All six would stay for two years, and then all but two engineers would return. The last two engineers would ensure quality controls were in place for another two years after that. Muradin himself would accompany them and see that their agreed upon accommodations and welfare were established, as well as meeting my father personally.
On our end, twenty wagons of timber a year over the next ten years would be delivered to Ironforge. A total of twenty-five crates of mana crystals would be delivered over the next couple of years and a total of ten thousand gold pieces would be provided alongside them in the first shipment. Fifty barrels of high-quality, but not well-aged spirits would be provided a year for the next ten years as well.
This was subject to final approval based on my performance at Muradin’s side against a particularly dangerous Frostmane tribal leader around Dun Morogh. I assured him I was more than up for the challenge, but reminded him that I was also better than the mages he would receive.
“That’s fine lass, but I want to see if your claims are true. This is a big agreement, and you humans sometimes exaggerate. I’ll see what ye got, and if I’m impressed, we’ll have a deal.”
I hated fighting, but I was eager to get this deal inked. I also enjoyed showing off and I was looking forward to understanding how the dwarves fought in battle. Theory was one thing, but there’s no substitute for seeing battle directly.
Within a few days, Muradin, a dozen dwarven guards in heavy mail wielding shields and hammers, were joined by as many dwarves equipped with dwarven rifles. My own spells would be at the ready. Health potions and mana potions safely secured and within easy reach. I felt a surge of excitement thrum in my veins as I contemplated how close I was to securing the technology of the dwarves for the defense of Alterac.