In which an Adventurer has breakfast
I wake up like a spark of [Balefire] burning up a stone fort—no, wait. I shouldn't think like that, I was a soon-to-be-[Hero], now. I wake up like [Conflagration] tearing through a forest—there, much better—and throw the blanket that had been draped on top of me to the side. With a bounciness in my legs—the good kind, not the can't-sit-still kind I had last night—that I couldn't control, I spring up out of my bed. My eyes pierce through the predawn darkness before they land on a lump of blankets garlanded by locks of blonde hair—that must be El—and a gross, ratty scarf wrapped around a shock of red fur—Markus was here too.
I still have a team! I can still become a [Hero]! They didn't leave me!!!
A grin splits my face nearly in half and I breathe in a lungful of air so I could roar my smaller form's heart out. Only instead of an earth-shattering cry, I choke on a mote of flame that had somehow gotten mixed in with the fresh mountain air and the smell of last night's roasted meat.
A voice grumbles out from the pile of blankets, its menacing tone not at all muffled by layers of cloth. "Finish that roar and they won't find enough of you to bury in a thimble."
"Ok!" I swallow my roar, but nothing can really keep the bubbly, fizzy feeling in my chest from flooding out when I speak. "I'm going to go get us some food! Then I'll talk to the civilians and we can find out where to go next! Have a nice sleep!"
Between one step and the next, I practically teleport—but not actually teleport, since I didn't leave behind any wisps of hellfire—from my bed to the door. An instant later, I slam the door behind me to make sure no light could get in and wake my team up.
I do pause a moment to watch as a few tendrils of flame splash against the shut door, but thankfully they don't set anything on fire. I didn't want to have to explain to the [Mayor] how his guest-cabin had somehow spontaneously caught fire. Plus, nothing woke people up like all the clanging and screaming when a building was on fire. Especially since El clearly seemed like she wanted to sleep in.
Sneakily, I creep down the hallway, taking special care not to step on any loose-looking floorboards that may squeak and wake my teammates up, until I reach a door hiding something that smells and sounds like cooking pig behind it. My mouth starts to water. It had been a few days since I'd had bacon or ham or sausage or corned beef or hash or-
I throw the door open with all my might and step into the kitchen. An old woman, not one of the two I remember meeting before, is frozen in place, seemingly terrified of something. I grin widely and set the door that had decided to come along with me into the kitchen to the side and wave my now free hand.
"Hi, I'm Ciel. What's for breakfast?"
"My you have quite the appetite. Where do you put it all, dear?"
I pause in the middle of shoving my seventh patty of shredded potatoes that had been stuck together and fried in bacon grease—hashed browns, the old lady had said—and grin, "That's cause I'm a-"
I cut myself off with the rest of my hash browns to avoid admitting that I was a secret [Calamity]. I take a moment to wash down the potato with a gulp of goat milk and a biscuit slathered in butter. "I'm an adventurer, we have to eat lots or-"
"We certainly do not," one of my favorite people cuts me off with a glare and a loud slurp of her nasty black drink. It was too bad that El hadn't been able to sleep much after I'd woken up, but I guess that was the life of an adventurer: you have to get up with the dawn or you won't get a full day of adventuring in. "This one is merely a pig."
"Am not," I pick up a thick slab of ham and tear into it with my teeth—despite not being my [Calamity] teeth they still make short work of the meat. "Pigs are for eating, not adventuring."
"Chirp."
"In that case, don't pigs like pecans?" I grin and reach my hand out toward a bowl of pecans that had been covered in butter and dusted with sugar and cinnamon.
"Chirp." The bowl vanishes into the folds of a ratty, dirty scarf, but Markus admits he was wrong to call me food. Which was only right. Based on how much I could eat, I was clearly the farthest of all three of us from being food.
"See, I'm not a pig at all, even Markus agrees." I pause just long in my feast to shove a piece of sausage in between a flaky biscuit and down it in one massive bite. Mmmm. Eating like this reminds me of when I'm in my larger form, gobbling down crunchy cows and juicy fish in one bite.
"You're right, even pigs have some discernment on what they eat," El breaks off the end of a cookie and dips it in her nasty drink. My stomach lurches slightly as she lets it soak a moment before taking it out and eating it, but I refuse to be defeated so easily. Though, I couldn't help the wailing voice inside me from crying out.
Why? It was just sitting there so innocently! And she just ruined it!
"You're more like a plague of locusts."
I pause motionless as a piece of bacon gets caught in my throat. How did she? I hadn't used [Devourer of Dead Gods] at all except for that time a Kraken had wanted to horn in on a school of giant fish I was hunting and that time when I had to break the wards over a lich's tomb and maybe that one time a flight of dragons just wouldn't leave me alone. No. It couldn't be. If she knew about that then why would she ask about-
"Ciel, drink your milk before you choke."
Reflexively, I reach out and drain the rest of my goat milk in one gulp. When I slam the mug back down, I see the smirk firmly planted on her face, "Does our fearless leader have an aversion to locusts?"
"Nooo," I fidget slightly in the face of her amusement, but it's not like I could tell her my super-secret [Calamity] move was to unleash a horde of super-strong locusts that would eat everything around me. Including things like rocks and magical wards and one time a few layers of reality. Which I hadn't intended to do, but really, the former jungle was a lot nicer as a barren plain with a gaping hole into the void sitting right in the middle of it than it had been as a jungle anyway.
"Well," my teammate huffs out a sound that could have been a laugh, but since she was still on her first nasty drink, it couldn't have been. El refused to find anything funny before her second cup. Even when Markus was trying to claim that his ratty scarf was really better than mine. "It's almost reassuring that there's something little-girl-like buried inside all your you-ness."
"What's that mean?" I ask, not really understanding. But since it was El teasing me I didn't mind. I still have a team!
"It means that there might just be hope for you yet."
"Kay." I chirp happily, not listening to her answer, because who could pay attention to their teammates when an old lady slides a fresh plate stacked full of fried pig in front of them?
This really was the best. I should tell super-secret things to my team after rescuing a bunch of helpless civilians from being turned into weird monster-things by gross, not-food-steaks more often.
"So, what's really going on up north?" I was sitting in the [Mayor's] office, swinging my legs back and forth idly on a nice cushy chair. El was busy staring at a map, although I wasn't sure if she was just admiring the pretty colors and writing or if that was just her way of showing the mayor that talking to civilians was my job. Markus, on the other hand, had left to go ask those rude squirrels about the roads north—or maybe share tips for the best ways to roast pecans—I hadn't been able to understand more than one word in three before he'd scampered off.
"It's a mess," the man runs a hand through his thinning hair and sighs loudly. "High King Haldor died suddenly—an assassination, rumors are calling it—without naming an heir."
"That's not good," I nod solicitously. I'd only ever worked for one [Overlord] who had planned for things to continue after her death. They still hadn't—[Villains] weren't really that good at working together, unless someone was there to beat them up and force them—but it was the thought that counted.
"It's not," the [Mayor] sighs again, even louder than the first. "Now we've got an honest to Forge succession war on our hands."
"Ooh, are they all going to get together in a giant pit ringed in fire and broken swords and fight until there's only one remaining?" That was how the orc tribes settled leadership, after all, and it made a lot of sense. The strongest person should be in charge unless they were a secret [Calamity] working for an [Overlord] because they were bored and were tired of reading and rampaging by themselves and their sisters were all busy and-
"If only," he breathes out a sound that might have been a laugh but didn't seem to have any humor in it. Which was something I was coming to realize non-[Calamity] people just did for some reason. "No. Instead, the three most powerful clans have each staked their claims to the throne and are withdrawing their troops from the outlying areas."
"So that's why those monsters attacked, huh?" I nod in understanding. You couldn't fight monsters and each other at the same time, after all.
"Yes and no." The [Mayor] sighs yet again. Was he having trouble breathing? He was kind of old, and that was an old person problem, but- "regular patrols would have certainly noticed new monster activity and then a squad of [Rangers] could have been sent from the Fort Blackrock to clear it out."
"But without the regular patrols, no one noticed anything until they decided to attack here." Well, at least now we had an explanation for what was going on and why it was bad for a bunch of clans or whatever to be fighting over becoming [King], or [Queen] if girl rulers weren't just called [King] anyways.
"Exactly so, Lady Ciel, exactly so."
"Hmm…" I let my genius mind fracture into a thousand paths and wait patiently for it to reform. My legs stop mid-swing as it comes back with the most genius of genius ideas. "In that case, all we have to do is stop the monsters from attacking people and get one of these people crowned [King]. Then they'll reward us with cool swords and armor and parades and…"
"If that is-" someone is talking, but I can't hear them over the sights and sounds of a feast fit for a [King] appearing in my imagination. Pies stuffed with eels and blackbirds. Goat stomachs filled with spices and sausage and oats. Minced meat and gravy covered in mashed potatoes. Blood sausages that for some reason were called pudding. More pies stuffed with minced meats. And of course, plenty of fried and breaded meats. Mmmm. Maybe they'd even have-
A finger flicks the back of my head and I blink. "Oh, sorry. What was that?"
"I was saying that if you wish to involve yourself in the succession war, I would be happy to provide what information I can on the candidates." The [Mayor] smiles in a way that looks a bit weird, almost like he is confused about something.
"That'd be great." I nod excitedly, "We absolutely need to support the brave [Soldier] who just wants peace for the realm… ooh, but what about the secret illegitimate child who's being puppeteered by mean old advisors… ooh, or what about the sad [Princess] who will be trapped into a loveless marriage if we don't rescue her. How will we-"
"Ciel, shut up."
"Ok."
"Ahh, thank you, Lady El." The old man lowers his head to rub at his eyes and then looks back at me. "In truth, none of the claimants quite fit those descriptions, but then again…"
"The first is Lord Keldrimm of Clan Ironhelm. As one might suspect from the name, Clan Ironhelm is heavily involved in both the manufacture and use of dwarven steel. Collectively, the clan owns the most mines and a plurality, if not a majority, of all mineral wealth in the Jhoral mountains. They are the richest of the three clans—though none of them are anything less than astoundingly wealthy—laying claim to the throne, and while considered conservative even by the standards of dwarves, are known to be generous to those in their service."
I nod. They were the cool weapon clan. We'd join them to get swords and armor and shields. Hopefully, they'd have something squirrel or [Mage] sized for my teammates, otherwise, I'd end up having to take all the rewards. And despite how awesome it would be to have a full set of dwarven gear, that wouldn't be fair at all. A soon-to-be-[Hero] had to be more considerate of her teammates than that.
"Lord Keldrimm himself is known to be a stern, unhappy man. He demands a level of excellence amongst those in his clan and those who work for him that many have found difficult to meet." Here, the [Mayor] pauses to shrug in a way that sets his belly jiggling. "I believe Clan Ironhelm wouldn't be the worst choice. Since they own and operate so many mines, that means they patrol the areas around those mines carefully for monsters or anything else that could potentially disrupt their operations."
"So a grumpy old man kind of [King] who looks down his nose at everyone who isn't up to his standard," I nod again. There were plenty of [Kings] in my books like that. They often had to get overthrown so that the [Hero] could marry the [Princess] and become [King] but they never seemed outright evil… unless they were advised by a [Shadowy Vizier] or something, but-
"A not inaccurate summary," he sighs again. Maybe he really did have some kind of breathing problem. "The next option is Clan Silverlake. Unlike most dwarven clans who build primarily underground, Clan Silverlake has built into the sides of a caldera lake that was once home to significant silver deposits, hence the name. The clan got its start fashioning silver and has only expanded from there. Now, it is home to the highest proportion of artisans and artists anywhere in Dynegard. From jewelry to painting to music, if it's in any way related to art, Clan Silverlake either creates it or supports it."
That meant they were probably the artsy accessories clan. That'd be useful for both me and my teammates. Though I never really liked how gold or silver looked—except when it was melted, of course—and gemstones were better as a crunchy topping on a dessert rather than something to look at, but if nothing else, El would definitely appreciate something shiny.
"Lady Thurvi is the current head of Clan Silverlake. She is known for her extravagant lifestyle. For her last birthday, she threw a week-long gala with free food and drinks, and if the rumors are to be believed, even performers from mist-shrouded Rujinn. More than that, she is known as a rather shrewd negotiator, and has managed to leverage the art her clan generates into diplomatic ties and trade deals across the continent."
El mutters something like 'And the world… Father owns a Silverlake chandelier.' but since she said it super quietly, I didn't bother to mention it to the [Mayor]. "So she's the flighty party type who is actually a cutthroat merchant-person in disguise."
"That's…" the old man trails off, but doesn't try to argue with me. After all, that was another super common type of person in my books. And their stories only went two ways; either they were the secret bad-person that the [Hero] would defeat after uncovering their crimes, or they were the gentle, supportive type that really helped the [Hero] get their start. Unfortunately, my books always made it clear that you couldn't tell which one was which until it was too late.
"Last, and perhaps least—certainly if you were to ask one of the more conservative factions of dwarven politics—is Clan Steamforge." Here, the [Mayor] actually perks up a bit. "For what Silverlake is to the arts, Steamforge is to invention. Madmen and dreamers alike converge upon the mountain range Clan Steamforge calls home in the hopes of seeing their inventions rendered into reality. Originally, a branch of Clan Ironhelm, Clan Steamforge left to settle in the far northern reaches of the Jhoral Mountains. The stories are inconsistent on whether their [Thane] at the time invented or discovered the massive steam-powered forges which give the clan their name, but whatever the case, those forges were enough to propel them to the heights of dwarven nobility."
An invention clan. That could be really cool. I bet they had all sorts of things that banged and clanged and maybe even things that exploded. None of that would be super helpful for my team, but it would be fun to see.
"Unlike the other two claimants. Lady Brida is young. Barely out of her twenties, and seems to be in all ways a model [Inventor] of Clan Steamforge with all the personal brilliance and lack of political understanding that comes with it." he rubs a hand through thinning hair. "Rumor has it that the clan head would much prefer to stay in her workshop rather than deal with the realities of ruling her clan and that this push for the throne comes less from her than it does from the clan elders, but that in itself is a telling admission, isn't it?"
"So she's the reluctant leader type who doesn't really do much for three acts and then pops in with an invention that solves everything in a completely unsatisfying way because the author couldn't figure out how to resolve their own conflict?" I'd read plenty of her type before too, and it wasn't my favorite. A [Hero] needed to be out there doing [Hero] stuff, not sitting in a lab somewhere doing boring things.
"Right, well that's simple enough," I turn to look at El, but she just shrugs indifferently. "Which one would you recommend?"
The [Mayor] frowns at my question and pauses for a long moment before speaking, "Ironhelm offers safety, but a harsh, uncompromising one. Silverlake offers entertainment and trade, but only for those situated to take advantage of it. Steamforge offers… hope or destruction, and I don't think even they could say which."
"In that case, I guess we'll…
[] Support Clan Ironhelm
[] Support Clan Silverlake
[] Support Clan Steamforge
[AN]
This would have been part of the previous update, but I think they work better as standalone chapters. Next thing I'll be writing is probably going to be an interlude with Markus and the [Lord of Fallen Flame] for the story version.
I still have a team! I can still become a [Hero]! They didn't leave me!!!
A grin splits my face nearly in half and I breathe in a lungful of air so I could roar my smaller form's heart out. Only instead of an earth-shattering cry, I choke on a mote of flame that had somehow gotten mixed in with the fresh mountain air and the smell of last night's roasted meat.
A voice grumbles out from the pile of blankets, its menacing tone not at all muffled by layers of cloth. "Finish that roar and they won't find enough of you to bury in a thimble."
"Ok!" I swallow my roar, but nothing can really keep the bubbly, fizzy feeling in my chest from flooding out when I speak. "I'm going to go get us some food! Then I'll talk to the civilians and we can find out where to go next! Have a nice sleep!"
Between one step and the next, I practically teleport—but not actually teleport, since I didn't leave behind any wisps of hellfire—from my bed to the door. An instant later, I slam the door behind me to make sure no light could get in and wake my team up.
I do pause a moment to watch as a few tendrils of flame splash against the shut door, but thankfully they don't set anything on fire. I didn't want to have to explain to the [Mayor] how his guest-cabin had somehow spontaneously caught fire. Plus, nothing woke people up like all the clanging and screaming when a building was on fire. Especially since El clearly seemed like she wanted to sleep in.
Sneakily, I creep down the hallway, taking special care not to step on any loose-looking floorboards that may squeak and wake my teammates up, until I reach a door hiding something that smells and sounds like cooking pig behind it. My mouth starts to water. It had been a few days since I'd had bacon or ham or sausage or corned beef or hash or-
I throw the door open with all my might and step into the kitchen. An old woman, not one of the two I remember meeting before, is frozen in place, seemingly terrified of something. I grin widely and set the door that had decided to come along with me into the kitchen to the side and wave my now free hand.
"Hi, I'm Ciel. What's for breakfast?"
"My you have quite the appetite. Where do you put it all, dear?"
I pause in the middle of shoving my seventh patty of shredded potatoes that had been stuck together and fried in bacon grease—hashed browns, the old lady had said—and grin, "That's cause I'm a-"
I cut myself off with the rest of my hash browns to avoid admitting that I was a secret [Calamity]. I take a moment to wash down the potato with a gulp of goat milk and a biscuit slathered in butter. "I'm an adventurer, we have to eat lots or-"
"We certainly do not," one of my favorite people cuts me off with a glare and a loud slurp of her nasty black drink. It was too bad that El hadn't been able to sleep much after I'd woken up, but I guess that was the life of an adventurer: you have to get up with the dawn or you won't get a full day of adventuring in. "This one is merely a pig."
"Am not," I pick up a thick slab of ham and tear into it with my teeth—despite not being my [Calamity] teeth they still make short work of the meat. "Pigs are for eating, not adventuring."
"Chirp."
"In that case, don't pigs like pecans?" I grin and reach my hand out toward a bowl of pecans that had been covered in butter and dusted with sugar and cinnamon.
"Chirp." The bowl vanishes into the folds of a ratty, dirty scarf, but Markus admits he was wrong to call me food. Which was only right. Based on how much I could eat, I was clearly the farthest of all three of us from being food.
"See, I'm not a pig at all, even Markus agrees." I pause just long in my feast to shove a piece of sausage in between a flaky biscuit and down it in one massive bite. Mmmm. Eating like this reminds me of when I'm in my larger form, gobbling down crunchy cows and juicy fish in one bite.
"You're right, even pigs have some discernment on what they eat," El breaks off the end of a cookie and dips it in her nasty drink. My stomach lurches slightly as she lets it soak a moment before taking it out and eating it, but I refuse to be defeated so easily. Though, I couldn't help the wailing voice inside me from crying out.
Why? It was just sitting there so innocently! And she just ruined it!
"You're more like a plague of locusts."
I pause motionless as a piece of bacon gets caught in my throat. How did she? I hadn't used [Devourer of Dead Gods] at all except for that time a Kraken had wanted to horn in on a school of giant fish I was hunting and that time when I had to break the wards over a lich's tomb and maybe that one time a flight of dragons just wouldn't leave me alone. No. It couldn't be. If she knew about that then why would she ask about-
"Ciel, drink your milk before you choke."
Reflexively, I reach out and drain the rest of my goat milk in one gulp. When I slam the mug back down, I see the smirk firmly planted on her face, "Does our fearless leader have an aversion to locusts?"
"Nooo," I fidget slightly in the face of her amusement, but it's not like I could tell her my super-secret [Calamity] move was to unleash a horde of super-strong locusts that would eat everything around me. Including things like rocks and magical wards and one time a few layers of reality. Which I hadn't intended to do, but really, the former jungle was a lot nicer as a barren plain with a gaping hole into the void sitting right in the middle of it than it had been as a jungle anyway.
"Well," my teammate huffs out a sound that could have been a laugh, but since she was still on her first nasty drink, it couldn't have been. El refused to find anything funny before her second cup. Even when Markus was trying to claim that his ratty scarf was really better than mine. "It's almost reassuring that there's something little-girl-like buried inside all your you-ness."
"What's that mean?" I ask, not really understanding. But since it was El teasing me I didn't mind. I still have a team!
"It means that there might just be hope for you yet."
"Kay." I chirp happily, not listening to her answer, because who could pay attention to their teammates when an old lady slides a fresh plate stacked full of fried pig in front of them?
This really was the best. I should tell super-secret things to my team after rescuing a bunch of helpless civilians from being turned into weird monster-things by gross, not-food-steaks more often.
"So, what's really going on up north?" I was sitting in the [Mayor's] office, swinging my legs back and forth idly on a nice cushy chair. El was busy staring at a map, although I wasn't sure if she was just admiring the pretty colors and writing or if that was just her way of showing the mayor that talking to civilians was my job. Markus, on the other hand, had left to go ask those rude squirrels about the roads north—or maybe share tips for the best ways to roast pecans—I hadn't been able to understand more than one word in three before he'd scampered off.
"It's a mess," the man runs a hand through his thinning hair and sighs loudly. "High King Haldor died suddenly—an assassination, rumors are calling it—without naming an heir."
"That's not good," I nod solicitously. I'd only ever worked for one [Overlord] who had planned for things to continue after her death. They still hadn't—[Villains] weren't really that good at working together, unless someone was there to beat them up and force them—but it was the thought that counted.
"It's not," the [Mayor] sighs again, even louder than the first. "Now we've got an honest to Forge succession war on our hands."
"Ooh, are they all going to get together in a giant pit ringed in fire and broken swords and fight until there's only one remaining?" That was how the orc tribes settled leadership, after all, and it made a lot of sense. The strongest person should be in charge unless they were a secret [Calamity] working for an [Overlord] because they were bored and were tired of reading and rampaging by themselves and their sisters were all busy and-
"If only," he breathes out a sound that might have been a laugh but didn't seem to have any humor in it. Which was something I was coming to realize non-[Calamity] people just did for some reason. "No. Instead, the three most powerful clans have each staked their claims to the throne and are withdrawing their troops from the outlying areas."
"So that's why those monsters attacked, huh?" I nod in understanding. You couldn't fight monsters and each other at the same time, after all.
"Yes and no." The [Mayor] sighs yet again. Was he having trouble breathing? He was kind of old, and that was an old person problem, but- "regular patrols would have certainly noticed new monster activity and then a squad of [Rangers] could have been sent from the Fort Blackrock to clear it out."
"But without the regular patrols, no one noticed anything until they decided to attack here." Well, at least now we had an explanation for what was going on and why it was bad for a bunch of clans or whatever to be fighting over becoming [King], or [Queen] if girl rulers weren't just called [King] anyways.
"Exactly so, Lady Ciel, exactly so."
"Hmm…" I let my genius mind fracture into a thousand paths and wait patiently for it to reform. My legs stop mid-swing as it comes back with the most genius of genius ideas. "In that case, all we have to do is stop the monsters from attacking people and get one of these people crowned [King]. Then they'll reward us with cool swords and armor and parades and…"
"If that is-" someone is talking, but I can't hear them over the sights and sounds of a feast fit for a [King] appearing in my imagination. Pies stuffed with eels and blackbirds. Goat stomachs filled with spices and sausage and oats. Minced meat and gravy covered in mashed potatoes. Blood sausages that for some reason were called pudding. More pies stuffed with minced meats. And of course, plenty of fried and breaded meats. Mmmm. Maybe they'd even have-
A finger flicks the back of my head and I blink. "Oh, sorry. What was that?"
"I was saying that if you wish to involve yourself in the succession war, I would be happy to provide what information I can on the candidates." The [Mayor] smiles in a way that looks a bit weird, almost like he is confused about something.
"That'd be great." I nod excitedly, "We absolutely need to support the brave [Soldier] who just wants peace for the realm… ooh, but what about the secret illegitimate child who's being puppeteered by mean old advisors… ooh, or what about the sad [Princess] who will be trapped into a loveless marriage if we don't rescue her. How will we-"
"Ciel, shut up."
"Ok."
"Ahh, thank you, Lady El." The old man lowers his head to rub at his eyes and then looks back at me. "In truth, none of the claimants quite fit those descriptions, but then again…"
"The first is Lord Keldrimm of Clan Ironhelm. As one might suspect from the name, Clan Ironhelm is heavily involved in both the manufacture and use of dwarven steel. Collectively, the clan owns the most mines and a plurality, if not a majority, of all mineral wealth in the Jhoral mountains. They are the richest of the three clans—though none of them are anything less than astoundingly wealthy—laying claim to the throne, and while considered conservative even by the standards of dwarves, are known to be generous to those in their service."
I nod. They were the cool weapon clan. We'd join them to get swords and armor and shields. Hopefully, they'd have something squirrel or [Mage] sized for my teammates, otherwise, I'd end up having to take all the rewards. And despite how awesome it would be to have a full set of dwarven gear, that wouldn't be fair at all. A soon-to-be-[Hero] had to be more considerate of her teammates than that.
"Lord Keldrimm himself is known to be a stern, unhappy man. He demands a level of excellence amongst those in his clan and those who work for him that many have found difficult to meet." Here, the [Mayor] pauses to shrug in a way that sets his belly jiggling. "I believe Clan Ironhelm wouldn't be the worst choice. Since they own and operate so many mines, that means they patrol the areas around those mines carefully for monsters or anything else that could potentially disrupt their operations."
"So a grumpy old man kind of [King] who looks down his nose at everyone who isn't up to his standard," I nod again. There were plenty of [Kings] in my books like that. They often had to get overthrown so that the [Hero] could marry the [Princess] and become [King] but they never seemed outright evil… unless they were advised by a [Shadowy Vizier] or something, but-
"A not inaccurate summary," he sighs again. Maybe he really did have some kind of breathing problem. "The next option is Clan Silverlake. Unlike most dwarven clans who build primarily underground, Clan Silverlake has built into the sides of a caldera lake that was once home to significant silver deposits, hence the name. The clan got its start fashioning silver and has only expanded from there. Now, it is home to the highest proportion of artisans and artists anywhere in Dynegard. From jewelry to painting to music, if it's in any way related to art, Clan Silverlake either creates it or supports it."
That meant they were probably the artsy accessories clan. That'd be useful for both me and my teammates. Though I never really liked how gold or silver looked—except when it was melted, of course—and gemstones were better as a crunchy topping on a dessert rather than something to look at, but if nothing else, El would definitely appreciate something shiny.
"Lady Thurvi is the current head of Clan Silverlake. She is known for her extravagant lifestyle. For her last birthday, she threw a week-long gala with free food and drinks, and if the rumors are to be believed, even performers from mist-shrouded Rujinn. More than that, she is known as a rather shrewd negotiator, and has managed to leverage the art her clan generates into diplomatic ties and trade deals across the continent."
El mutters something like 'And the world… Father owns a Silverlake chandelier.' but since she said it super quietly, I didn't bother to mention it to the [Mayor]. "So she's the flighty party type who is actually a cutthroat merchant-person in disguise."
"That's…" the old man trails off, but doesn't try to argue with me. After all, that was another super common type of person in my books. And their stories only went two ways; either they were the secret bad-person that the [Hero] would defeat after uncovering their crimes, or they were the gentle, supportive type that really helped the [Hero] get their start. Unfortunately, my books always made it clear that you couldn't tell which one was which until it was too late.
"Last, and perhaps least—certainly if you were to ask one of the more conservative factions of dwarven politics—is Clan Steamforge." Here, the [Mayor] actually perks up a bit. "For what Silverlake is to the arts, Steamforge is to invention. Madmen and dreamers alike converge upon the mountain range Clan Steamforge calls home in the hopes of seeing their inventions rendered into reality. Originally, a branch of Clan Ironhelm, Clan Steamforge left to settle in the far northern reaches of the Jhoral Mountains. The stories are inconsistent on whether their [Thane] at the time invented or discovered the massive steam-powered forges which give the clan their name, but whatever the case, those forges were enough to propel them to the heights of dwarven nobility."
An invention clan. That could be really cool. I bet they had all sorts of things that banged and clanged and maybe even things that exploded. None of that would be super helpful for my team, but it would be fun to see.
"Unlike the other two claimants. Lady Brida is young. Barely out of her twenties, and seems to be in all ways a model [Inventor] of Clan Steamforge with all the personal brilliance and lack of political understanding that comes with it." he rubs a hand through thinning hair. "Rumor has it that the clan head would much prefer to stay in her workshop rather than deal with the realities of ruling her clan and that this push for the throne comes less from her than it does from the clan elders, but that in itself is a telling admission, isn't it?"
"So she's the reluctant leader type who doesn't really do much for three acts and then pops in with an invention that solves everything in a completely unsatisfying way because the author couldn't figure out how to resolve their own conflict?" I'd read plenty of her type before too, and it wasn't my favorite. A [Hero] needed to be out there doing [Hero] stuff, not sitting in a lab somewhere doing boring things.
"Right, well that's simple enough," I turn to look at El, but she just shrugs indifferently. "Which one would you recommend?"
The [Mayor] frowns at my question and pauses for a long moment before speaking, "Ironhelm offers safety, but a harsh, uncompromising one. Silverlake offers entertainment and trade, but only for those situated to take advantage of it. Steamforge offers… hope or destruction, and I don't think even they could say which."
"In that case, I guess we'll…
[] Support Clan Ironhelm
[] Support Clan Silverlake
[] Support Clan Steamforge
[AN]
This would have been part of the previous update, but I think they work better as standalone chapters. Next thing I'll be writing is probably going to be an interlude with Markus and the [Lord of Fallen Flame] for the story version.
