In the blink of an eye, their surroundings shifted. Their bodies briefly defied gravity, hovering in mid-air before being pulled downwards by its force. Tucker fell to his knees and hit the cold stone floors as nausea overwhelmed his mind. He looked up at Alex and watched the veteran roll his shoulders back and forth before smirking at him. They were in a new location, one with barely any light except for two torches that were directly in front of them.

  “Need a hand?” Alex asked.

  Tucker grabbed a hold of the outstretched hand and stood up with Alex’s help as his body swayed back and forth. “I fucking hate these teleportation platforms.”

  “You’ll get used to it sooner or later. You just need time.” Alex patted him on the back and took a step forward. “Let’s get a move on. We gotta be quick, or else those stubborn blacksmiths will refuse our requests.”

  Tucker looked up and stared at the grand iron gates before him. On the surface of the aged oak timber were layers of iron spikes that pointed towards the platform with towering walls that stood twelve feet high. Around the two were iron barricades that were firmly planted into the ground, with their sharpened ends directed to the center.

  Yet despite the overwhelming presence of the defenses before him, what drew his attention were the two guards standing before him. The skillfully crafted interlocking steel armor they wore strengthened their bulky frames, and their helms, adorned with runic engravings that exposed only their eyes and beards, caught his eye the most.

  Tucker was slouched over, but for some reason, he managed to make eye contact with the guards before them while barely raising his neck. Their short stature and muscular build, with thick arms and broad shoulders, were one of the most defining features of their race. Combined with their weathered skin, firm jaws, and large noses, Tucker instantly knew who they were.

  “Ya bastas better not puke on our newly polished floor!” The heavily armed guard glared at Tucker and planted the end of his great axe into the ground before crossing his arms.

  “Da laddies worse than da previous one!” Another guard complained, stroking his long grey beard that was separated into two halves and then braided over one another. “Watchmen these days have no manners, I tell ya!”

  Alex raised a brow at the familiar voices. “Ofnir? Fargrim?”

  The veteran lifted his hood and lowered his mask before the two dwarves, whose expressions immediately changed.

  “Alex? Is that you? My word!” Fargrim rushed onto the platform and wrapped his arms around him before lifting the old man into the air. “It’s good to see you!”

  “It’s good to see you too. I didn’t think I would see you again.” Alex laughed as Fargrim placed him back on his feet. He gestured towards the dwarf sporting a long brown beard and then towards the one with a lengthy grey beard. “Tucker, meet Ofnir and Fargrim. They’re old friends.”

  “These are dwarves?” Tucker asked, tilting his head. “I see why you said our disguises wouldn’t work. They’re a lot shorter than I expected?”

  “Short?! Why I oughta beat da living daylights outta this piece of shit!” Ofnir raised both his fists and approached Tucker, but before he could take another step forward, Fargrim held him back. “Lemme at this runt! I’ll kick his knees in! Then kick his head in!”

  “Ha…” Alex peered at Tucker. “Do you have to cause trouble wherever you go?”

  “My bad, it’s just that this is the first time I’ve met dwarves. They’re a lot more…impressive in person.” Tucker watched as Ofnir raised his great axe above his head with both arms as Fargrim desperately held him back. The rookie leaned over to Alex and whispered. “Do you think they’ll settle down in a bit?”

  “Who knows, but if they decide to beat the living shit out of you while working with us, then it’s a small price to pay.” Alex leaned closer to Tucker. “Did you bring the coin?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good, give it to them.”

  Tucker took out a small obsidian coin and flicked it towards Fargrim, who easily caught it with one hand while releasing Ofnir. As the other guard stumbled forward, he examined the coin for a split second before tightly clenching onto it with a troubled expression. “Alas…it seems you aren’t here to visit. Is it the Empire?”

  “Indeed,” Alex replied.

  “My dear friend…I’m afraid we have not what you need.” Fargrim inspected their equipment and shook his head. “If it’s spirit weapons you’re after, we don’t have any materials we can spare to forge one.”

  “Do you know when you’ll have enough materials?” Alex asked.

  “Nay, the Forge Lord of the Clans has declared that all dwarven holds are to seal their vaults,” Fargrim answered while shaking his head. “The only reason this device is still active is because the Clan Chieftain deems it so.”

  “Can you tell us why the Forge Lord of the Clans ordered all the clans to seal their vaults?” Tucker asked, nervously leaning over. “Um, sir.”

  Fargrim raised a brow and laughed. “Who would have thought that someone so tall would look so small!”

  Laughter erupted all throughout the stone chamber that surrounded the silver circle. As Tucker looked up, several heavily armored dwarves were above them with crossbows and ballistas pointed towards the platform. While some had lowered their weapons, many remained poised and ready to fire at the slightest bit of movement.

  Alex quietly chucked upon seeing Tucker’s flabbergasted expression. “You finally noticed?” Alex said, taking out a notepad. “They’ve been there the entire time.”

  “Yeah… I had a hard time seeing because of how dark it is, but now that my eyes have adjusted. I can see why their Forge Lord ordered for their vaults to be sealed,” Tucker replied.

  He stared at the vicious blade marks that scarred the stone surfaces. It was sporadic and seemed to have formed from utter chaos. There was no trace of elegance or technique, only the sheer intent of destruction. He clenched his hands and frowned. Then, shifting his gaze to the object that was directly above the gate.

  The object was enormous, comparable to the size of a dragon’s head, yet its features were completely different. Three horns protruded from each side of its skull, with four empty eye sockets aligned in a row. Its upper and lower jaw had sharp, razor-like fangs, with two short sword-sized fangs at the top. Without a doubt in his mind, what was before them was the head of a demon. One that the Gods would banish had they detected its presence.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  How the hell did they manage to kill something like that?

  Tucker shook his head in bewilderment and watched as the old man made a rough sketch of the skull. Unbelievable. That was the only word in his mind after seeing the demon’s skull. Although dwarves weren’t known for possessing divinity, the God of the Forge, Durus, granted them an unbreakable spirit. One that didn’t directly change their prowess but filled their hearts with profound courage.

  Yet, to Tucker, it was outstanding. Demons were foes that couldn't easily be killed, and seeing the dwarves assemble a kill zone after being ambushed by one was beyond resourceful. To add to that, he couldn’t believe they would be so bold as to keep their teleportation device running despite knowing that a demon crawled through it.

  “The young lad is just like ya,” Fargrim said, grinning upon observing Tucker.

  “So I’ve been told.” Alex approached Fargrim and whispered. “Would it be possible for you to arrange a caravan for us to get into the Empire??”

  “Afraid not, old friend,” Fargrim spoke in a low voice. “The Forge Lord has made it a dwarven decree. Even our trade caravans are stuck within our holds.”

  “Is there anything you can do?” Alex asked.

  The hardened dwarf thought for a moment and rubbed the back of his neck. He let out a dejected sigh and said, “The best I can do is temporarily open the gates for ya folks to leave.”

  “Could you also provide us with some horses?” Tucker asked.

  Fargrim and Ofnir both looked at each other before bursting out in laughter.

  “Did ya really think we could ride a beast that is triple our size?” Fargrim jokingly asked.

  The rookie pictured the dwarves trying to mount a horse and then shook his head. “I guess not. Then are we walking the rest of the way there Alex?”

  “Most likely, but that won’t be too much of a problem.” Alex followed behind Fargrim as the dwarf banged on the gates.

  The iron doors creaked open, revealing an enormous area before the group. Seeing how Alex was already several steps ahead of him, Tucker scurried on behind them. He glanced back at where they came from, watching as the dwarves on top of the wall disappeared once more. Above them, Tucker could see countless forges set ablaze once more. Spanning hundreds of meters above their current position with many magic lanterns lighting the stone walls. Countless blue banners with gold outlines came into view. Every banner displayed the symbol of a golden great axe resting within an iron wreath—the standard of the Reinhart Dwarves.

  The symphony of a thunderous metallic clang entered Tucker’s ears the further they went. Every forge had a dwarf relentlessly hammering away with their iron tools. The heat and embers blazing from their forge as if it had a life of its own.

  “Wow.” Tucker stood there awestruck as he did a three-sixty turn. “You guys built all this?”

  “Aye, laddie. We even helped rebuild your Keep,” Fargrim said, pointing at himself, then Ofnir.

  “Wait, what? You guys helped rebuild our Keep? You’re joking. Our Keep has been standing for over a hundred years,” Tucker replied.

  “They’re telling the truth. Dwarves typically have a longer lifespan than humans. Besides, these two have been around since my predecessor was alive,” Alex said.

  Tucker couldn’t hide his impressed expression, causing Fargrim to smile. “He really is like you in your younger days, Alex. The laddie wears his heart on his sleeve, like an open book.”

  Alex scoffed. “Except he’s more of a handful. I don’t recall ever causing my mentor so much grief.”

  “Well lad, I bet your mentor would think otherwise.” Fargrim released a heartfelt laugh as Alex grumbled in the background.

  The veteran’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of something flattering on Fargrim’s shoulders. On the shoulders of the dwarf were iron badges of crossing hammers with azure ribbons attached to the ends. Each ribbon was inscribed with words in dwarven tongue. It was something that Alex hadn’t seen in decades, but their meaning was clear.

  “So, was that demon easy to kill?” Tucker asked.

  “Nay, we were lucky,” Fargrim answered with a grim expression. “If that poor bastard could properly swing its weapon, perhaps we wouldn’t be standing here today.”

  “Aye, but the blasted creature cracked the runes on our teleportation device. And it ain’t just our hold sufferin’. Many in the dwarven realms are facing demonic foes,” Ofnir added.

  “Shouldn’t you disable the platform to stop them from coming through then?” Tucker asked.

  “By my beard! If we had to disable the platform for one meager transgression, we wouldn’t be the Reinhart dwarves!” Ofnir hit the end of his great axe on the stone’s surface, causing the other dwarves to cheer in unison. “Those dastardly fiends will make a fine addition to our collection! Am I right lads?!”

  “““Aye!”””

  The sudden camaraderie of the nearby dwarves took Tucker by surprise. They raised their weapons into the air and then brought them back to the ground. Striking the ends to the ground in unison as they cheered in the background.

  “The poor bastard didn’t know what hit dem,” Ofnir answered with a grin. “With our workshops above the walls, we pummeled it to death with our anvils.”

  “Your workshops above these walls? No, wait…” Tucker held his head with one hand. “You pummeled it to death with what now?”

  “With our anvils,” Ofnir repeated, gesturing towards one of the many ten-ton anvils that were suspended in midair above the teleportation platform.

  Tucker blinked multiple times while holding back the urge to drop his jaw. There were numerous cranes holding the anvils in the air, but he couldn’t imagine defeating a demon by just pummeling it to death. It didn’t make sense whatsoever.

  “It’s because their teleportation device is mainly used to transfer equipment and resources. Since it’s deep within their hold, they use cranes to hoist the resources rather than carry it out.” Alex placed the notepad and pencil back into his pouch as the sound of hammering began once more. “It’s a creative use of their surroundings.”

  “So, if you haven’t seen something like that before, do you think Charles will have an idea?” Tucker asked.

  “Perhaps—” Alex stopped himself and frowned before staring at Tucker. “How did you know I’ve never seen anything like that before?”

  “Because usually you would go correct, back in my days, or something along those lines,” Tucker replied, mimicking the old man’s tone.

  “Damn brat…” Alex pressed his lips together with displeasure as Fargrim and Ofnir chuckled in front of them, but soon he released a deep exhale. “I’m guessing the demon’s body isn’t accessible?”

  Fargrim tilted his head back and forth. “Eh… we scorched its flesh off and disposed of the carcass.” he then shrugged his shoulders. “Got nuthin to show ya sadly. We even dismantled the wicked things blade.”

  “Though if ya want one piece of advice from us, it’s best to gouge da bastard’s eyes out.” Ofnir’s gaze lost its light as he tapped the end of his great axe onto the stone surface. “Even with a weapon as great as this, we could hardly cut through its flesh.”

  “Aye, the best we could do was restrain it until the chieftain arrived.” Fargrim signaled a dwarf warrior at the main gate, and soon, the sound of chains scrapping against one another filled the area.

  “Is there anything else we should know?” Alex asked.

  “Aye,” Fargrim replied with a solemn voice. “If the teleportation platform glows purple. Kill whatever comes out 'cause it ain’t a friend.”

  “Purple? Doesn’t it only glow blue?” Tucker asked.

  “No clue lad, our runesmiths are working on that one,” Fargrim answered.

  The group stopped before a pair of towering black iron gates. Each gate was six meters tall and wide enough for several carriages to pass through. The plates were bolted together with massive rivets that seemed to form a defensive barrier as the runes on the surface gently hummed.

  “It looks like this is as far as we can take ya,” Fargrim said.

  “I see. Thanks for the advice, old friend.” Alex held out his hand and shook hands with Fargrim and Ofnir.

  “Same to ya.” Fargrim grinned and then smacked Tucker’s back. “We’ll forgive ya this time for the short comment, but not the next!”

  “Haha, I’ll keep that in mind.” Tucker smiled after shaking hands with them. “You guys stay safe, you hear?”

  “You as well ya breezy bastard!” Ofnir took out a small iron whistle that hung from a red thread around his neck and then blew into it. He roared with all his might. “Open da main gates!”

  The horns above blared, and their echoes filled the area as the large stone gates parted. Alex nodded at Fargrim. “Thanks, I won’t forget this favor.”

  “Don’t worry about it laddie.” Fargrim waved his hand and brushed it off. “Till we meet again youngin.”

  Tonight I drink for accomplishing my writing goals this year.

  I didn't think so many people would be reading my story, and I am grateful for it.

  I wish you all the best from the bottom of my heart.

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