100. Return

Pressed against the damp walls, the party of scouts and knights crept deeper into the caverns of the Daggers. Callum had considered ordering their retreat, but after a long moment of listening to the distant echoes of footsteps, he concluded that they weren’t heading in their direction.

He held his sword at his side as they walked and realized that his hand trembled, but no amount of self-control could fight the tremor back.

“Should we go further?” One of the scouts said as they reached a natural stone bridge that arched over a cavernous drop that disappeared into darkness.

Callum wordlessly nodded back. He was terrified of what they might find, but the stops of feet sounded like quite a number, and he couldn’t rule out their belonging to the trolls and their mutant servants.

Occasional purple and green lights shone up from below, their sources reflective like some kind of crystals, but were too far to make out details. 

Passing through one cavern after another, the group slowly descended into the mountain's bowls, and with each step, the temperature grew warmer, as if they were closing in on the volcanic activity that gave the mountains their life.

A spiraling passage sent them down further before opening into a massive, awe-inspiring cavern lit by a rainbow of majestically glowing lights. 

Callum guessed that the cavern's ceiling had to be at least 50 yards above their heads, and it spread out far beyond the line of their sight. It wasn’t just some caves the races here sheltered in from the cold, but entire caverns large enough to fit sprawling cities and then some.

Shouts and bangs echoed in the distance, and Callum signaled for the group to keep low as they carefully made their way across the rocky terrain.

Soon, the source of the sounds became clear. At the heart of the giant cavern was a fortress under siege. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of torches lit camps that surrounded the fort's stone walls, and flaming arrows cut through the dark as they flung to and from the fortifications.

“A battle?” Callum murmured as he found perch along the edge of a concealing rock with ample vantage of the battle.

“It appears so,” one of the scouts replied in disbelief.

“Are they trolls?” Erin questioned.

“Ww-we should go back,” Clay’s teeth began to chatter. “We can’t deal with an army.”

“Sush up and keep your head down,” Radic shot Clay a glare. “We’re not fighting an army.”

“Do you think you and your men could get closer?” Callum turned to the scout leader.

“Closer? Yeah,” he said, sounding uncertain.

“Close enough to figure out if they are trolls?”

“That’s the hard part, but maybe,” the scout leader said. “Depends what kind of patrols they have.”

“It’s the difference between completing this mission and going back empty-handed,” Callum reminded.

“You don’t need to remind me, kid. Come on, boys, let's see what we can do. And try not to get yourselves killed, okay?”

A few grunts echoed across the men. They committed to their job but clearly weren’t too happy about sneaking up to an army that could be easily made of wargs.

“So, what do we do? Just wait?” Erin questioned. She was fidgeting and clearly uneasy about standing around in the warg’s homeland.

“We can’t just leave them,” Callum said, confirming Erin and Clay’s worst fears. “We’re in this together. But those armies seem pretty concentrated on what they are doing. As long as we remain low and out of sight, we should be fine.”

“The wargs, they can see in the dark,” Clay reminded.

“Would you quit it,” Radic hissed. “We’re on a mission. Be a man.”

“But I’m not a man,” Clay murmured under his breath. “Not yet, at least.”

**King**

Mark had returned to Winterclaw briefly to ensure that activities were carried out as he had instructed before swiftly traveling back to Xaarn.

He wasn’t required to oversee every little task and had recruited relatively able people to important positions.

However, the fleet being prepared for his new port was a bustle of activity with which he could share his thoughts.

Strolling the harbor, he watched as hardworking sailors and dockhands loaded fresh shipments from abroad into the ships designated for the new town.

He had somewhat gone out on a limb with his plan. Hoping that the island would need their help simply because it was a maritime state. But he hadn’t realized just how right he was.

Despite its wealth relative to its size and the absence of a foreign ruler, Xaarn had never won any real independence. The kings that gave it what little legitimacy it had cared little for the stunt Mark had pulled when traveling to the south. The reality was that without the means to build its own fleet, Xaarn was at the mercy of the other maritime powers.

Edarn had done his best to keep as much of this from Mark as he could, but a few days in Xaarn that turned into weeks was all Mark needed to hear the rumors and gossip of drunken sailors that filled the halls of Xaarn’s many taverns.

Realizing this leverage that he wielded over the little island king, Mark made sure to voice himself. At times, Edarn attempted to fight back against his requests but was caught in a precarious situation; he more often than not succumbed, and then he didn’t—it was usually because Mark allowed him to score a victory. A simple strategy to ensure their relationship didn’t sour past a point of no return.

The tipple deck ships swayed impressively in the harbor. The goliathan ships looked juxtaposed against the relatively small town. A town this size had no business building such impressive ships because it hadn’t. And nor would Dawnheim anytime soon.   

Edarn had explained how it would be quite some time before they could build anything beyond simple cogs—far smaller and simpler trading ships. That was fine, of course. Mark’s entire point of building a trading port was for trading, after all. But seeing these giant masters of the sea inspired him. 

Stabilizing Dawnheim’s internal economy was the priority, but Mark already found himself dreaming of an opportunity to purchase or build some of the ships for themselves.

“Impressed?” Edarn said, sauntering over to Mark as he paced the harbor, guards in tow.

“More so that you probably imagine,” Mark said.

“Doubtful,” Edarn flashed a thin smile. “You’re from a frozen wasteland, after all.”

“I wasn’t always.”

“Oh, right. The Imperium. An almost equally dreadful place.”

“Yeah… anyway, Is everything on track?” Mark said, briefly glancing at Edarn before turning his gaze to the bustle surrounding the ships.

“As always. Xaarn is the most efficient harbor on this side of the world. How else would we compete with those giant cities with entire kingdoms backing them up? Thankfully, aristocrats make for terrible managers.”

“I’ve heard as such,” Mark agreed.

“We do have one problem, though.”

“And that is?” Mark turned back to Edarn with a raised brow.

“War. It’s driving prices up. The big powers prepare their armies and navies for confrontation in the east. That’s not good for us. Not only that, but soon, I shall have to return several of my largest ships. I have gained these ships under a treaty with several kingdoms, and now they ask I return them. I’m sure you can imagine why I cannot refuse. This is the delicate game we play to retain our independence here in Xaarn.”

“So, I assume this will delay our efforts?”

“If we can transport most of what we need quickly, then it might have a minor impact. However, ships going to war often mean shipwrights are in demand. And we need them if we’re to build a shipyard.”

“You don’t have the people we need already?”

“Some of them, I do. But there are many jobs involved in building a ship.”

Sighing, Mark shook his head. “What do we need to do, Edarn?”

“You’re a king, aren’t you?”

“Get to the point.”

“You hold leverage, I don’t,” Edarn continued. “Simply forming an alliance with one of the Imperium’s enemies would force them to keep more soldiers stationed on the western front. This would likely be seen as valuable to many of the Imperium’s enemies.”

“Not going to happen. Trading with the world is great, but I’m not inviting an Imperial invasion over it.”

“No, no, no,” Edarn reassured. “You wouldn’t do that at all. We’re not crazy, King Atlas. You wouldn’t join the war or threaten the Imperium; you would just ally with an enemy. Give them enough doubt that they would place an army on the border.”

“And what if they decide to cross the border and attack me to remove this threat?”

“They won’t. Not with the trouble they are already stuck in. Besides, if the Imperium wants to invade your lands again, none of this is going to matter. If anything, an alliance will protect you. Give them something to think about.”

“But won’t I be forced to aid my ally?” Mark questioned.

“Not if you ally with an enemy of the Imperium that is not at war with them. This half of the world wants to see their downfall. There are many powers that hide in the shadows who call the Imperium enemies but do not dare face them directly. Those are the powers we can win our shipwrights from.”

“Fine, pull your strings. I will at least talk to them before deciding my plan of action.”

“Good, a good king needs a diplomatic mindset,” Edarn nodded approvingly. “You will see that this is our best option.”