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23rd of Slate

I heard the sound of the incoming dwarves long before I got any other sign of their presence. Of course, blowing large granite horns makes it sort of obvious. A cry went up from the walls shortly thereafter.

"The King has arrived with a full entourage!"

I smiled. Despite being injured still my plans were progressing. The presence of the king here with a full entourage could only mean one thing. The history texts were right. Though it did not happen too commonly the king had the ability to choose where he or she would house their government. It was not uncommon for them to move around routinely should a more stable, richer or defensible position be found, depending on the needs of the kingdom at the time. The last move had occurred nearly a hundred and fifty years ago, moving the capital from Lalkol, near the accursed tundra, further south to Sazirgeb, which was much more conducive to trade.

The shift to here would confirm what I suspected. The war weighed heavily on the king's mind and a defensible fortress like Dorenemal was preferred for safety's sake in these times. Practically, it meant several things for us. We were now a mountainhome. More importantly we were the Mountainhome. The king's court would be moved here and with the vast majority of the populace being members of the Fahlstrom clan it significantly boosted our ability to withstand Agna's plots, which would now risk the king's wrath in addition to our own if discovered. I'd had rooms carved out, smoothed and engraved for their arrival for three years now. That had been the easy part. Furnishing them up to proper expectations was a little more difficult. But again, I'd been preparing there as well, though we were undoubtedly not quite up to snuff. Still, the horns blowing brought change to this place. And I believe it to be change for the better.

25th of Granite

Zefon, our brewer gave birth to a boy today. Apparently she sent someone up to tell me, and sent me a mug of beer with the news. I certainly appreciated it. People keep trying to bring me water. Don't ask me why. Nothing wrong with a little kip now and again when recovering.

((Oh, and I totally plan on both posting a map and putting the world up on DFFD when I'm done with this part and before I move on to the next part of the story-line. So don't worry. I'll try to make this place fun to explore... if you can find the secret ways in...))

18th of Granite

I heard some animals coming along the pathway outside my building. Which, at this time of the year, typically means the elves have come to trade. I heard a shout from the sentry at the roof not long after and then the activity began in the area of the trade post. Despite being bed-ridden healing I've noticed that if I pay attention I can sense much of what is going on around me. I can hear much through the stone, feel the earth shaking at a footstep, see in my mind's eye what is anticipated or expected.

The usual preparations begin, bringing some goods to the Depot to trade. Perhaps the elves would bring wood this year.

Tarin entered my room to converse with me not too long after the elves have arrived.

"Paulus, the Dutchess wanted to know about previous relations with the elves. It seems that they're insisting we cut no more than a hundred trees again."

I cursed silently. Their requests had been easy enough to grant when the forests were re-growing, but they were not ready to be harvested once more, and the elves, true to fashion, could not accept that we cut too many. Our forges had lain cold too long.

"Did they bring wood with them to trade?"

Tarin shook his head, sighing in disgust. "Not a branch."

"Well, it is technically her choice, as she is the Dutchess, but our forests are ripe for harvesting. Perhaps if we decline their demands this year they will be more reasonable next year. And if we work quick we can harvest all our lumber before they come again. That way it won't be an issue if they ask us again next year, we won't have trees to cut at that point."

Tarin nodded, understanding my intent quickly and smiled, agreeing. "I'll let her know what you think about the matter. She's in the meeting now and wanted to know how relations have been with them."

"Better than most, honestly. We've given them good deals for what they've brought, and complied with their requests so far. One year shouldn't damage our relations too much."

He left.

If all went well the elves would not be happy, but there was little they could do about it. And though my plans were slowly coming on, being able to harvest the lumber and get our furnaces running again would help us in many ways. Not the least of which was to finish equipping our ever-increasing armed forces. I'd seen some soldiers sparring without helmets the other day. A dangerous proposition when wielding axes.

16th of Obsidian

Lolor, one of our legendary stonecrafters created a wonderful artifact. He calls it Isonmedtob, or Planblockade, after our defensive arrangement. It is a granite amulet and having seen it I heartily approve.

Apparently while I was imprisoned there was another such artifact made, along more original lines. It was made with obsidian, and clearly hinted at the work ethic of this fortress itself. Both items are truly stunning pieces of workdwarfship. I felt better just seeing them.

16th of Moonstone

I heard the dwarven merchants leaving finally. Bembul tells me we've cleaned up a lot of the loose crafts, toys and instruments that have been cluttering up our roof. It's about time. Heh. Of course, we've been cleaning up after the goblins since we started and there simply wasn't time nor room for that too.

As an additionaly security, the gates were closed behind them, ensuring that we have a peaceful winter, and permitting our road crew to work without danger.

I've spoken with Bembul as well about some more personal matters. I can't see to it myself, and it's very appropriate that he take care of this.

Zon and Litast were moved to their own room in the mausoleum level. I'd had it smoothed, widened and engraved in preparation, but hadn't gotten around to getting it done before my incarceration. Mother and daughter now rest side by side in honor, surrounded by engravings of their clan. I assured Bembul that if he wanted he could be buried with them when it was his time to go. He assured me that would be fine, but had no intention of joining them just yet. As family it was, however his right to claim any possessions of theirs, and when they were exhumed he took the opportunity to claim a fine, if slightly soiled silk sock from his mother and a boot in similar condition from his sister. It seemed strange to me, but I wasn't about to deny him those memories.

Bembul apparently has decided that we don't have enough weapons here and has mandated several spears. I've asked Draco to take the order and make them in steel. No reason to do things shoddily.

I hadn't realized this but there is a human merchant outside the infirmary waiting to meet with me. I asked Bembul about it and apparently the human insisted I be the one to speak with him and that he wasn't leaving until I had. Apparently he's enjoying our hospitality. He waited outside the prison while I was incarcerated too. He must be a patient sort. For his sake and mine I hope I recover fast. Too much bedrest and I'll start to atrophy. Heh. Yeah. Right.

15th of Timber

At least I'm not as bored as when I was in the dungeons three floors below me. Still, I find this necessary inactivity somewhat annoying as well. I want to be out doing something, regardless of it's utility at this point. I can hear the sparring going on in the barracks just outside the room, sometimes a match extends into the infirmary itself, for which I'm grateful.

The bookkeeping is easy to keep up with I find. It's second nature to me, especially with Lolor doing all the leg work as it were.

I called in Draco to see me today. With Aardvark as a champion and our sheriff he'll not have time to see to the crafting of more armor (for which I apologize... sad to lose such a great armorer) and we were needing some new equipment with the recent additions. Draco had no experience in armorsmithing, but he was a decent enough weaponsmith and knew his way around the forges as well as metals. Besides, even though his military training was going well, equiping our soldiers took preference. It was better to have five well-equipped soldiers on the battlefield than a dozen ill-outfitted ones. There tended to be fewer deaths as well, and that included in training. No, we needed a new armorer, and with Tun gone the way of the world, Draco was the next logical choice.

Not that I thought he'd equal Aardvark any time soon. But one had to start somewhere.

I could hear her coming two floors away. Mistem tended to walk on her heels in a slightly irregular pattern and that made her tread both loud and very distinct. She brought a torch with her and I lowered my eyes against the light at first.

"Paulus Monomozkak are you ready for your sentence?"

I stood. "I am at peace and ready for the punishment for my crimes."

She nodded and unslung her hammer.

Her first swing came in low, lower than I expected and I made the mistake of tightening the muscles in my leg. I felt a distinct pop when it hit in my knee and pain entered my body. I gritted my teeth. Mistem counted out the strokes. Perhaps because it was her ritual for performing justice, perhaps so she wouldn't strike too often, I wasn't sure. Her second blow caught me in the upper torso, knocking the air from my lungs and sending a wave of heat through my chest. I saw her third blow coming and made the mistake of moving my shield arm to intercept, as I would have in combat. Her blow clipped my hand hard, breaking bones and damaging fingers.

"Three."

I grunted and she swung again, clipping my other leg, sending me to the floor. The pain radiated from almost all of me and threatened to overwhelm my deprived senses. Her next blow caught me in the lower back, bruising flesh and damaging bone.

"Five."

I rolled over as best I could to face her when her next strike came in on my right arm again. The sound of her voice saying "Six." was all I knew for a few seconds. I lapsed into brief unconciousness the pain overcoming me. I came to only seconds later, in time to hear Mistem count out.

"Seven. You have paid for your crimes according to our law."

She began walking away without checking to see if I were alive or dead.

I gritted my teeth against the pain and leveraged myself onto my good arm looking at her depart. Groaning inwardly I managed to call out to her:

"Mistem..."

She turned towards me.

"You hit like a girl."

A brief smile passed across her face before she turned away. I heard her say as the darkness closed in again.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Paulus. I'll send someone to carry you to the infirmary."

I passed out again. It might have been seconds or minutes later that I opened my eyes again and saw Kogan, one of our woodcutters carrying me towards the sickbeds.

I write this now two days after the fact. I've slept off much of my fatigue and though I'll be sore and mending for some time I feel remarkably well. At least my pen hand is uninjured so I can write.