The Way Ahead

Lord S’fashkchlil took a deep, raspy breath as he laid in his bed, stewing in his misery. It was all that depths-shunned Outsider’s fault.

Soralash had found the human, half-dead and collapsed on the side of the Highroad, and brought him in along with her normal suite of Surface goods and news. From there, the Outsider- a true Outsider, or so he had thought- had been brought before him, but spoke no tongue he knew, and so was passed along to Rashin, with the idea they might be able to learn a bit about him and learn of the wonders he might provide.

Everyone knew about Outsiders, after all. Some thought they were but a legend, but Rashin himself had interpreted the carvings pertaining to them, so S’fashkchlil knew this knowledge to be true. Thousands of years ago, true Outsiders had come to Joriah, bringing with them tales of mighty magics and advanced knowledge, sent as messengers by the gods themselves to aid those who had their favor.

The mighty city of Vis’Daric and its inhabitants, the Gozau, were all that remained of their numerous creations, and yet what a legacy it was! It was his birthright to claim such a valuable asset, with his family legacy crumbling around him. Destined for greatness, bah. But that was before the human arrived, seemingly a gift from his ancestors.

From the first moments after Rashin had reported on this ‘concrete’ from the Outsider’s homeland, liquid stone which potentially could be used in place of Blackstone for walls and fortifications had settled the matter. His ancestors had clearly delivered a gift to him as an act of providence, who was he to shun such a turn of fortune?

He would not be as foolish as so many others he had seen, sharing their knowledge and fortune, cast aside the moment his usefulness was at an end. No, this Outsider would be a vein unto himself. However, for his Taskmaster, Break Spirit, and Inspire Greatness Skills to affect the boy, he would need to be a citizen of Clan Blackstone, a puzzle which Rashin, his most brilliant advisor, had solved for him. If he were to make the Outsider a Free Shaper, by law, he would similarly be making him a citizen, and thus the human would be focused, grow quickly, and become loyal to him and him alone, a thought that brought his fingers to twitch.

That alone was not sufficient, though, as it brought up an additional complication. By Dwarven law, any quenched Free Shaper must Tour in each of the Five Cities, sharing their knowledge and teaching, such that their skills may be spread and all the Highpeaks may benefit from their brilliance. That was something which couldn’t stand. No, it was better that nobody even know of the human’s existence, yet such a secret would never stand. So he had to circumvent that law in a legal fashion.

Fortunately, the law was formulated in such a manner that the Tour was a tax, and as repayment of debts were exempt from tax, he needed to establish the boy as a Free Shaper in repayment of a debt. It was the perfect plan, to entrap the Outsider in a Debt of Hospitality, bestowing him with luxuries he would not even recognize as such, and quench him as a Free Shaper, forever working off his debt until Break Spirit finished working upon the Outsider.

Some of his court had grumbled at such treatment of a foreigner- they did not know of his true nature, which S’fashkchlil had ensured would not be shared- but he had silenced such murmuring by first assuring them that the hospitality of their kind was legendary, and surely if the Outsider truly protested such treatment, he need only lodge a protest directly to him, and he would be obligated to return him to the Empire.

For a demigod, it was so simple to fool the boy, and once he felt his Task sink in he breathed a sigh of relief. That the human thought his Task impossible did not lessen its effectiveness, and might well feed into his Break Spirit. His stubbornness was problematic, and while he felt like he should have had Break Spirit have ensured his loyalty, he had never felt the Skill fully come into effect. It should have happened the moment the boy had ceased trying to make weapons and escape, yet it didn’t.

Perhaps, he had thought, that was the power of an Outsider? That their minds were so difficult to bow? Good. When he finally fell before the might of his Skills, then that meant he would never waver. And he knew the boy would fall to Break Spirit, it was just a matter of time. After all, even his strongest-willed advisors had done little more than grumble about his treatment of a guest, as their loyalties were his and his alone. The fact that Noble Communion had taught him this ‘English’ he spoke in mere hours was proof enough that his mind was not unassailable, even if he had somehow fooled his Taskmaster sense.

For weeks, everything worked perfectly, and he saw his Legacy being built. One who was able to tame the untamable. But then King Shoroshal had demanded more men for the War Below after a devastating and completely unexpected loss, and he suddenly found his manpower gutted with nearly all of his citizens sent off to the Dark Warfield.

He had been before his King and pressured into a terrible admission. His king had put him under such pressure that he claimed having some form of alchemical Blackstone variant, and he had been demanded that he supply it. He was furious. How dare that mere pretender to the throne demand the results of his work, of his efforts? Well, he’d show that depths-shunned so-called king what he had! Concrete would be a gamechanger, he could use it to seal up entire tunnels if the Outsider was to believed, and he could cut off Shoroshal from the surface, leaving him as the undisputed king!

Lord S’fashkchlil attempted to swear under his breath, but the action just aggravated his injured and inflamed throat, sending him into another coughing fit, as it came up bloody. The damn boy had cheated somehow, yet he couldn’t figure out how. He had killed Rashin with a blow to the head- why had the fool scholar never bothered to earn and complete the Path of the Warrior? Anyone with a modicum of Health should have survived such a blow, yet the scholar had always claimed that he never needed to worry about any more than a book falling on him. Yet the blow which had slain him had been so precise, so calculated to down a Health-less Dwarf, it removed all doubts about the boy’s true nature.

That gods-forsaken, depths-shunned human, he saw clearly now, was nothing but a devious spy planted in his ranks, meant to sabotage him. He was no mere lost Outsider, unsure of himself and ripe for the taking. No, he was clearly a trained assassin, meant to cripple him as soon as he saw weakness. Nobody else would be able to twist his Task of finishing his research into a Task which let him effortlessly fight through his guards and escape, no doubt taking information back to his masters in the Empire.

The thought of his incompetant guards were another point of failure. The boy had been armed with mere rocks and sand and yet they had utterly failed in their attempts to subdue him. They would face suitable punishments in time, though what he had yet undecided.

Then there was whatever weapon the boy had used on him, which he had apparently smuggled in so thoroughly that it had gone undetected for nearly two moons. He’d never felt heat of its equal, and as he targeted his beard, he had lost enough hair, the strands detaching to prevent him from developing Forge Sickness, that whatever strange powder was used had gotten into his lungs, burning him from the inside out, to say nothing of falling in the Steel Rivers.

Though only two had died, many more were grievously injured, yet not a single one could tell what was used, cloaked deviously as it was as mere rock. And while the boy was no longer considered one of his citizens, and thus his knowledge of the foreign tongue had faded alongside his ability to Task the human, he would sooner see his city burn than to see such an insult go unavenged.

A presence appeared at the end of his bed.

“Took… took you,” He coughed, his voice hoarse. He cursed the human for his sorry state, “long enough. I have… a task for you.”

The figure at the end of his bed stood and listened. As the human had been a nominal guest under hospitality, his debt had been expunged upon leaving, and even pursuing him as an assailant with Clan assets would result in too many questions being asked, and the endeavor would likely be nullified. Worse, it might be usurped, and the alleged Outsider would slip out from between his fingers. But he still could not let such a slight go… unavenged. And fortunately, there was just the right person for the job.

Edwin would pay for what he had done.