An Excerpt from the Journal of Soizic d'Karak, a Questing Knight-
Ah, dear diary, where did I last leave you? So very, very much has been happening! And the Lady knows that I have written thoughts of a similar color on your pages many a'time, but I swear to the truth of this: our kingdom prospers.
Though given the chaos it has wreaked upon my routines, I would almost it prosper a bit less. Francesco laughed me out of his office once, when while in conference I sought sympathy- though I frown to recall the slightly hysterical tinge to his merriment.
Whence did I leave off... Ah! The last of my days off with friends. Dear diary it was a wonderful one! Food, drink, conversation- I find myself possessing an extraordinary circle for the rumors and news through the two of them- between the three of us we have covered the rulers, the soldiers, the merchants, and now the community gossip of the Karak. 'Princess' Gwen has set herself up as a matchmaker; she stumbled into the job while acting in loco parentis for the women who traveled under her protection. She (and I heard the details at length) personally vetted every one of the men who courted them, and now our new residents have heard rumors from the happy couples- and so they trust her to match them up and pay her for the privilege! (Although the number of times I begin to be approached by those under my command requesting I put in a good word with her for them has me with an eyebrow almost permanently raised.)
I must admit, I have leaned on her a time or two, but only to ask her to delay a match for a few weeks a time or three- but dear diary, do not think me a foe of love! No, I needed those men! My duties have grown pressing, and it seems the undumgi dissolve in my hands, for every time a man retires to a family and a craft, I lose veterans and trainers! The desperate pace of recruiting, training, marching, and blooding new members which I hoped would slow has not.
My Lady, you bless me with your gift of those who stand about me, my captains most of all. For without their loyalty I would be lost, and it is through your grace I retain. May you hear my prayers and thanks.
Thus, while I have time- our situation as it stands now. First, our friendly neighbor, the Ice Dragon.
The dragon has apparently managed to exist as an identifiable, individual dragon for hundreds or thousands of years and somehow not provoke a grudging from the Dawi.
Oh my Lady, I ask your blessing that I may take hope from even the strangest sources.
Next, our unfriendly neighbor. The Black Crag sends most of it's spawn against the dwarf cannon and hungry spiders in the depth, but warbands contest our dominance of the pass as well. The disarray into which they were thrown following the Two-Day War has passed, and the increase in traffic has drawn their attention. Raiders show themselves in the high dozens up to low hundreds, most of whom have obviously lost a fight or eight back in their burrows, but they are still dangerous enough. My tactics are being forced to change, from a few hundred men in a patrol with each caravan to coordination with scouts and fast-response units to smash the greenskins apart. I spend much time with the Thanes, seeking their wisdom on the matter.
Were it not for the absolute dominance of Oswald's cannon over the battlefields, I would fear for our attrition. But emplacements at Karag Ulric and Karagil grant me space to learn.
As for my responsibilities to our people and our allies, well. When last I wrote t'was but a day or so before Princess Edda sought me out, and since then miners have begun crossing to the north of Death's Pass, where the rich veins still lie. The Princess, though my knowledge of her is colored by Francesco, is swiftly becoming one of my favorite dwarves, though I regret the feeling may not be mutual. I realized upon receiving her requests- a brief letter explaining the need accompanied by a weighty document of work crew shifts and mine locations by priority- that she was treating me as a dwarf thane; I confess that I had to prevail upon a few lesser members of the royal clan to help me decipher the jargon and location shorthand used. Once I had it though, it was everything I needed before I even knew I needed it, to arrange for their protection and liasons with the rangers.
Word must have made it's way back to her, for I received a visit a day afterward where she did everything but apologized for being thoughtless about working with humans, and I did everything I could to assure her that the undumgi were striving to support the dwarves, and she was not the one who needed to change. It was, I think, reassuring but painfully awkward at times.
Regardless, caravans of dwarven miners were flooding out within days, for though she may not be a socialite the princess is a formidable organizer. So much so that I was forced to cancel leave for several squads! (Which, of course, only encouraged more to leave the soldier lifestyle...) It seemed that from one feastday to the next we had gone from patrolling a dusty, lonely stretch of desolate road to guarding daily caravans, marching detached commands to hunt down raiders, and watching over the very life-blood of dwarven industry: endless lines of carts full of ore.
I wrote last time of the incoming caravans all hung about with new residents for our Karak; still they flow in, on EIC wagons loaded down with food and leather, reagents and wood and a hundred other things easier found in the markets of Barak Var than made in the Karak. Twice- three times as many as before, even approaching the numbers of wagons we reached when the whole Expeditionary Army was assembled.
Francesco is clever, for he has his thumbs on the scales of those things brought in and out, and he favors raw materials and bulk goods, not the finished products the merchants would rather sell us, and in truth the men would rather buy. But he tells me he does this to shelter the craftsmen within his new city, like a man sheltering a spark with his hands lest it gutter before it can grow to a flame. At least, such is the wisdom left to me after two hours of him expounding upon "import-substitution development through quotas and tariffs aimed at promoting light manufacturing" or some-such. Oswald nodded enthusiastically through the whole thing, as did our EIC liaison (a charming woman from southern Stirland, though to my shame her name escapes me) and Michael. Though I suspect Michael had a hand in writing the speech; Francesco is resting more responsibility upon his once-secretary as the boy proves up to it.
Dear diary, have I yet written of Francesco's council?
I flip your pages back to see that when last I mentioned our leadership, t'was Francesco walking a groove into the carpet over being offered the title of Thane. He ended up refusing, though he never did quite tell me why, and requested instead a human title: Viceroy. Delegate of the king, roughly, and he told me that King Belegar had nodded when he had heard that, and asked two questions: Did he expect to be subordinate only to the King? And was the title hereditary?
No and no were the replies, though as it waa told to me he gave both with a frankly implausible amount of humbleness and decorum. He would accept that any of the king's council might carry his will, though he hoped that the King would hear his petions personally. And no, though he would recommend a successor for consideration.
At this, the King is said to have nodded in satisfaction, accepted his oath, and announced it to the kingdom. Viceroy Francesco Calavera, Master of Karag Nar and Lord of the Undumgi.
I sit at his right hand, the commander of his military, and the executor of the charge given to the undumgi when we were granted Karag Nar.
Headmaster Oswald sits at his left, absolutely smug at his new title. Through the derring-do of Prince Kazrik on behalf of the King, the Imperial Gunnery School of Nuln has not only consented to supply us with cannon and mortar, but to establish a branch here in Karag Nar! And Oswald was made head of it, cementing *his* name in the history of his family for generations to come. Of course, it occupies much of his time, meeting with the representatives who will become his new staff, but the man has gone from enthusiastic to practically evangelical about his cannon.
(Ironically enough, I suppose, the undumgi council has fallen into the same chain of command as the dwarves. First the king/viceroy, then the thane/general, then the loremaster/headmaster.)
Fortunately for Francesco and Oswald, Micheal and Gretchen (Ha! I remembered her name!) have taken over much of the busywork. Micheal acts as Francesco's steward, being the only person there through the entirety of setting up all of the laws and agreements that hold the city together- besides Francesco, of course.
Gretchen sits on the council as our EIC liason, for the company dominates most of the trade meant for the city itself. As such, she is responsible for our main foreign connections, news, and, unfortunately, vulnerabilities, for our trade and supplies run almost exclusively through the EIC.
It was Michael who first began bringing her to these meetings, for he kept having to note down questions to ask her after. She provides me the caravan schedules, at least as far as such information can be gathered, and though we work with one another I know her best through Sarah- what is guarded to her peers is revealed to subordinates, as is so often the case.
Of any spymasters I know naught, nor do I wish to. I assume that if such things are needed, one would merely climb the stairs or find the wizard's wolf to deliver a message.
Thus does the small council direct the affairs of our growing city.
Dear diary, believe me, if it were only the increase in settlers and caravans and dwarven miners all on top of training recruits, I would find a way to manage it, though the sacrifices may be great. (And I frown here, though you cannot see it, for I miss the lazy days spent talking and training with my wolf-in-robes. I have not had chance to have his arms about me in weeks.) But no, there must be more!
I am presently awaiting the arrival of the Okral, a convoy of masters and longbeards and all of the most exacting dwarves from the most traditional of the dwarfholds. King Thorgrim has sent them to restore our home, and I must confess to holding mixed feelings on the matter. I have fought and shed blood to earn as much respect as we have from the dwarves here, but still I hear grumbles on occasion about Umgi in the places the ancestors walked. I fear it will be a hundred times worse with the Okral.
And yet, the statement of support from the larger dwarven empire cannot be gainsaid.
So I wait, here amidst the cannon in Karag Ulrik with a thousand of my best, for their arrival.
My Lady, grant me a tongue as silver as my blade, that I may serve your purposes with it.
And lo- as if the world had been waiting on my prayer, I hear a marching tread from the depths make itself known. Dear diary, wish me luck.
