B4 Chapter 21: The Fear Beneath the Stone
B4 Chapter 21: The Fear Beneath the Stone
He stepped through the door into a room that put even the grand hall at the entrance to shame.
It wasn’t just the rich decorations that covered every surface. Nor was it the way the gray and white stone itself glittered like polished jewels. It was the sheer scale. An entire mountain had been turned upside down and hollowed out. Rings of seats circled its perimeter in ever-shrinking bands, leading down to a podium that Marcus could hardly see down below. It might as well have been a mile away.
The vast majority of the seats stood empty at the moment. But given their sheer number? The chamber would hold thousands, if not tens of thousands.
Marcus let his eyes trail down the long spiral of seats until he reached the bottom of the funnel. Two dozen or so figures sat in the bottommost seats—though from this distance they may well have been specks—their heads tilted down to watch a stocky dwarf on the dais below. He strode in a circle as he spoke, his words indistinct at this distance.
Vice Captain Tora did not announce their presence as they entered the chamber. Instead, he simply led Marcus down the long flight of stairs descending toward the dais.
The entire time, Marcus kept one ear on the discussion below while simultaneously taking in every detail of his surroundings. He had plenty of time to do so, given the lengthy hike ahead of them. At least his not insignificant dexterity could be relied on to keep him from tumbling down the steep pathway.
For all of the chamber’s incredible construction, he couldn’t help but feel as though this scene was… familiar somehow. Not precisely, of course. He’d hardly seen many structures of such ridiculous size, aside from perhaps the colosseum. But something about it…
It took a moment for him to place the feeling. It was familiar. Grander in scale, with many times the number of seats, and a little different in its layout. But of all places, the place bizarrely reminded him of the elven capital. Of their senate chamber.
It seemed that the dwarves had not left Rome behind entirely. Its roots evidently went far too deep for that, even with their apparent disdain for its people.
His suspicion was only confirmed as they descended further. The words began to drift upward, reaching Marcus’s ears as they closed the distance.
“...Expanding the Goldeye mines is a risky endeavor. Even if the orcs are dealt with as we suspect, there are other threats within the wastes to be wary of. And considering Oro’s stubbornness in accepting aid…”
This was clearly a political meeting, one meant to deal with dwarven governance and the maintenance of their holds. Though he noted more than one occasion where a dwarf would censor themselves or word something a little more vaguely than one would expect in such a meeting. It seemed that they had registered his presence after all.
It took a few minutes to near the bottom of the chamber, giving Marcus plenty of time to prepare. Clearly, the dwarves had a rather complicated relationship with Tiberius’s predecessors. The question was, how to manage it? He could not hide the identity of the empire forever. Moreover, he wasn’t convinced that doing so was even the best idea. His “deception” to this point could be excused as a simple lack of elaboration, one that shouldn’t damn him on its own. But if he continued to keep it up? That would severely strain his claims to be impartial.
Tora came to a halt just a few rows above the first seated dwarf and waited for the speaker to finish. Then, the stocky dwarf on the dais turned to regard them.
His garb was strange. It somewhat resembled the fabric wraps that the Romans favored when not in uniform, the so-called “togas” that belted at one shoulder and hung loosely about their forms. But this toga wasn’t made of fabric. Rather, it seemed to be a layer of chainmail so fine that it merely resembled fabric. It glittered in shades of gold and purple as the dwarf moved, giving the appearance of lightness despite having to weigh an unconscionable amount.
“Consul Stonegrip.” Tora thumped a hand to his chest in salute—another small detail reminiscent of the Romans. “I’ve brought the diplomat.”
Stonegrip silently evaluated Marcus where he stood. His entire head was bald, shining under the light of the glowbugs that illuminated the chamber around them. Yet the sheer length of his braided silver beard more than made up for his lack of hair elsewhere. Thick bands of gold embedded with amethysts secured the beard at regular intervals, their apparent weight making Marcus honestly wonder whether the braid would serve as a useful bludgeoning weapon in certain circumstances.
Flinty eyes flicked to Marcus’s cloak, then back to his face. If the dwarf sought to make him uncomfortable with the attention, however, then he would be sorely disappointed. Marcus stood confidently, yet with his head just slightly bowed. Respectful, but not someone to be simply dismissed and rolled over.
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The consul eventually nodded. “Thank you, vice captain. “You may wait outside."
Tora hesitated, seeming as though he would object. But one look from the consul quashed any such argument. Instead, Tora nodded, taking the remainder of the guards with him as they began to climb up the stairs once more.
Marcus thought it seemed a bit naive to leave him alone, with what he assumed to be a room full of dwarven leadership, without any soldiers to stand between him and doing something incredibly damaging. Not that he intended to do them harm of course. Still, given the paranoia they’d shown at the entrance, this seemed out of character.
Then again, they had searched him quite thoroughly. And besides, who was to say these people couldn’t defend themselves?
[Consul] (Lvl 40)
Consul certainly didn’t seem like a particularly combat-focused class. But with a level like that, it likely didn’t matter. If even a fraction of his points went into strength, he could probably crush Marcus’s skull like a grape.
Marcus came to a stop on the floor just in front of the dais and gave a courtly bow to the consul. Then, he turned and bowed to the rest of the assembled dwarves. Based on everything he’d seen, they were likely some form of senators or representatives, so being respectful to them only made sense.
"Human," Consul Stonegrip spoke in clipped tones after Marcus had finished his second bow. "Why are you here?"
He smiled, making sure that his skills were still active as he straightened. They were, of course. He hadn’t let up on the charm since approaching the dwarven stronghold. Or the [Magnetic Presence], for that matter.
“Greetings, Consul Stonegrip. I am Marcus Silvanus D'Angelo, as the vice captain, no doubt informed you. I come to you as a diplomat and a peacemaker, seeking to establish good relations between the empire of humans and yourselves.
Marcus heard someone snort. A gruff voice echoed down from the seated dwarves. “Pah. What good can the humans offer us? If those paltry gifts are any indication, we’d get more use having our empty-headed apprentices to weave and range into the wastes.”
Another voice rose across the way. “True enough. And he calls himself a peacemaker… A peacemaker! When they come to knock down our doors with an army!”
The gathered dwarves continued to cast aspersions against the humans, their abilities, and their intentions. The consul said nothing, allowing the barrage to continue and simply watching Marcus’s reaction with dispassionate interest.
Something was wrong. Multiple somethings. Marcus could already tell that getting this group under his sway would prove far more difficult than the last. Though the seated dwarves weren’t as high-level as the consul, most of them did seem to share a class of [Senator]. Meaning they were all politicians. They would have higher charisma and likely some skills meant to counteract his manipulations.
But that wasn’t the only thing. This whole debacle could be seen as a show of strength and an attempt to extract concessions out of Marcus. But it wasn’t. He could read the room, and the mood here had already started off much more hostile than it had been with the guards. Almost as though they truly did want nothing to do with him. As though they’d never intended to hear him out in the first place.
He let the dwarves speak for a moment longer before he decided he’d had enough. He tore up his original plan into shreds and tossed them to the winds. It appeared his usual honeyed words and soft touch would fall upon deaf ears here. It was time to take a heavier hand.
“You say the humans come with an army? No,” Marcus suppressed a chuckle. “Though the men camped outside your doors do indeed belong to an army, they are merely a small portion of it. Were the humans to truly decide to knock down your doors, we would be having a far different conversation. If one at all.”
He saw faces darken around him. A few soft mutters went through the spectator dwarves as the consul’s eyes narrowed. “You threaten us?”
“Threaten? No.” Marcus shook his head. “I merely present you with facts.”
He began to pace around the dais, addressing his audience as the consul had before. “As we speak, the humans comb through these mountains in search of any remnant orcs—a threat that has long plagued our people and only recently been pushed back. Their goal was not to conquer your territory.” Yet, he added internally. “And yet you act as though they have already made themselves mortal enemies. Why?”
“That does not render their conduct acceptable,” another senator rebuked. “They attacked us. When we have done nothing to offend. Who would foster relations with such… such barbarians? Much less make peace!”
Marcus stopped and turned to face the senator who had spoken. [Critical Reception] made him as easy to read as an open book. The man radiated indignation, anger, disdain… and something else, too. Something more subtle.
Fear.
“You call them barbarians. But that is as far from the truth as one could be.” Marcus’s smile turned cold. “And I believe you know that to be the case.”
“Impossible.” Another shouted. “Just what are you implying?”
Marcus spread his hands wide. The bandage had to be ripped off at some point. He could not hide the identity of the empire forever. Nor did he suspect he needed to.
“I am here as a peacemaker. To make peace on behalf of the human empire—the Roman Empire.”
There was instant uproar. Dwarves shot to their feet, shouting obscenities down at Marcus where he stood, and he felt that subtle undercurrent of fear intensify into a stream. He stood silently, parsing through the roiling emotions that filled the air like so many scents.
“[Order].”
The consul’s voice boomed. Instantly, the chamber fell silent, dwarves calming themselves with unnatural speed with the activation of some skill. But it was too late. Marcus had already seen through the ruse. Amidst all of those emotions, there was one that had been conspicuously lacking. Surprise.
These dwarves knew exactly who was at their doorstep. And they were afraid.