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Erntzeit 14th ,2488 IC
With the goblins finally eliminated from the dwarven fortress, I sent a rider with a message to the Emperor. Not because I expected a reply from him, but because, within the Imperial chain of command, it was the proper way to inform the dwarves without breaking protocol.
But that didn't mean our work was done. In fact, the hardest part was just beginning: clearing the fortress. Removing goblin corpses, clearing rubble-filled chambers, and above all, figuring out how not to suffocate in smoke in the process. Luckily, the dwarven forge area had decent ventilation. I had no idea where the air came from, but it flowed, so I ordered the greenskin bodies burned there.
I left a garrison in the fortress. It was essential to protect the dwarven tombs and ensure the goblins didn't resurface, especially because of the spores they leave behind… or the tunnels. The fortress seemed to be connected to a larger underground network. Some tunnels were clearly dwarven; others visibly dug by goblins, unsecured and crude, as expected from such creatures.
Meanwhile, work on the new mining town continued. After sending the bodies of our dead to Reinsfeld, the local priest performed the rites needed to protect them from necromancy before they were buried in the cemetery.
We kept paving roads and dividing land plots for future housing. I wanted to start building a sewage system, but income had dropped since pigment production slowed. Besides, for a settlement this small, connecting the drainage to the Marienburg Border River was unnecessary… at least for now.
My priority was to send most of the new settlers here. I needed miners. The iron in this region was plentiful. So the days passed, focused on expanding the main road, planning farmland, and mapping the town layout.
The next shipment of weapons and gunpowder arrived from Reinsfeld, along with steel tools —the first produced in my workshops— and leftover materials from architect Otto's last project.
But it wasn't just goods that arrived. People did too.
Whole groups began migrating to my lands, mostly from Ostermark and Ostland. Apparently, they were tired of living every day fighting off Kislevite raiders, orcs, and whatever else wandered those cursed regions. They had heard that my domains were safe. And they were. Perhaps too much so.
In response, I sent riders to reinforce road security. There were no beastmen left in these lands —I had made sure every last one was exterminated— but there were always bandits looking for poorly guarded routes. A few men-at-arms stationed at the garrisons would be enough to ensure more settlers arrived safely.
However, the new migrants looked at me with suspicion. Not like the others. Even though I spoke to them kindly, cordially, even warmly —as I had with every previous group— these people looked at me as if I were an executioner ready to draw his sword.
I offered them the same deal as always: help building their homes in exchange for a temporary tax deferment. But almost all refused. They said they preferred to build everything themselves.
It irritated me deeply. Their stubbornness would lead them to live like rats for years, surrounded by mud, disease, and filth. And I couldn't help them. I almost expelled them, but I knew that would be a death sentence. There are plenty of ways to die out here: the weather, cults, hunger… not much else is needed. So I chose patience. With time, they would adapt.
Meanwhile, I stayed with my men, paving roads, clearing land, cutting down trees and shrubs in the area where the town would expand. Day after day, without rest.
More settlers kept arriving each day. Although I was pleased to see the population growing so quickly, I didn't like that they were all coming from the same provinces of the Empire. In just a few weeks, the settlement had turned into an enclave of Ostermark and Ostland. The population tripled and, before I realized it, this was no longer a Reikland village: it was an eastern outpost of the Empire, with its own customs, dialects, and stubbornness. Exactly what I had wanted to avoid.
But there was nothing I could do about it. Moving all those people to Reinsfeld just to balance the cultural percentages wasn't feasible. So I kept my complaints to myself, swallowing my frustration at seeing how, besides rejecting my help, they were now also bringing their traditions and lifestyle as if this were their new Ostermark.
We kept working. We only paused when scouts found a small greenskin camp in the mountains. Nothing serious: seventy poorly armed orcs, whom we wiped out with musket fire before they could even mount a proper defense. As soon as they started running, we gave the order to burn everything. That secured the area even further.
The houses kept rising. The road stretched farther. And more people arrived each day.
Until finally, the message I had been waiting for came. The Emperor had received my letter. He informed the dwarven ambassadors in Altdorf about our discovery. According to the letter, an expedition would be sent by a clan to investigate the fortress and verify the authenticity of the find. That was a week ago. No more than two days passed before a group of dwarves arrived at the mining settlement. All armed, all with grim expressions.
I dismounted to greet them, making the sign of the twin-tailed comet.
"Blessings of Sigmar, friends of the Empire," I said firmly.
"Umgi, I bear no grudge against you…" began the leader, a dwarf with a long white beard nearly reaching the ground, but he stopped mid-sentence as his eyes narrowed, staring at my arms. His gaze hardened at once. "Those bracers… where did you get them?"
"These bracers were acquired legally, noble dawi," I replied quickly, keeping my voice calm. "Their ownership was transferred in accordance with the shared customs of men and dwarves. They came from a runesmith living in Marienburg. If you wish, I can send a rider to retrieve the purchase order. It is signed and sealed."
Silence fell over the group for a few seconds. All the dwarves watched me with suspicion.
Finally, the leader nodded. "Very well, umgi. I won't distrust the man who freed a karak from a greenskin plague. Lead the way."
"This way, noble dawi," I said respectfully, guiding them to the mine's main entrance. The sound of our boots echoed against the stone as we descended.
"I apologize in advance if this offends you, but… do you know how to read Reikspiel?" I asked as we moved through a secondary gallery.
"Yes, umgi," he replied curtly, not taking his eyes off the path.
"Then take this." I handed him my campaign notebook. "I wrote this while we were reclaiming the kazad. It details everything we faced, how we fought, and the methods we used to take each chamber."
The dwarf took the book without stopping or responding. He simply tucked it under his arm and kept walking.
We arrived at the site where the soldiers' camp had been, guarding the entrance. Only a few tents and extinguished campfires remained.
The dwarven leader stopped and looked around. The ceiling and walls were blackened.
"What happened here?" he asked, examining the charred remains carefully.
"They were breeding spiders here, noble dawi. We set the place on fire, and everything exploded within seconds. The webs burned like oil—especially because of the giant spider... the size of a house." I pointed to the book. "It's described on page four."
The dwarf nodded and kept reading as we moved through the main halls of the fortress. We passed through the corridors where the goblin massacre had occurred. Now cleansed of the blood that once stained every stone, they looked like a true dwarven stronghold once again.
I led him straight to the tombs, where I had gathered all the bones of the dwarves I found scattered across the fortress. As we entered, the dwarven leader lifted his gaze from the book and looked at me.
"You say the tombs were looted… but these bones?"
"These are the remains found in various parts of the fortress," I replied calmly. "I don't know the funerary rites of the dawi, so… I gathered them here, in what seemed to be a cemetery of the original inhabitants. Many of them…," I hesitated for a moment, "...had been used as decoration by the greenskins. This was the only thing I could think of to give them a little dignity back."
The dwarf looked at me for a moment longer, then turned and spoke to his kin in Khazalid. One by one, they approached the piles of bones and skulls, kneeling and removing their helmets in a gesture of respect.
"Let's go," said the leader. "They will handle giving them the peace they deserve."
I nodded and continued guiding him toward the heart of the kazad. He didn't need much explanation; he seemed to understand for himself what had happened in each room of that section of the fortress. When we reached the great throne room, he came to a sudden halt.
"That hole…" he murmured, pointing at a scorched crater in the floor, "…that was a goblin shaman, wasn't it? Lost control and exploded."
"Yes," I answered simply. I let him walk at his own pace. He examined the looted armory, the destroyed forge, the clan lord's chamber, and finally the room where the great central statue rested. His expression was hard to read—a mix of sorrow and critical assessment.
"Ah… there's something I didn't include in the book." I walked over to one of the side walls, extended my hand, and touched an old rune carved into a stone slab. It glowed softly under my touch, and a faint tremor ran through the stone as a hidden mechanism activated silently.
I turned. The dwarf was staring at me, eyes wide.
"That rune… it's designed to react only to members of the clan… or friends of the clan," he said, incredulous.
"Really? I never met anyone from the clan myself," I said casually, descending the stairway that had just opened. "I just made sure to protect this place and cause as little damage as possible. By the way… I haven't taken anything from here."
From the foot of the stairs, I looked back. He hadn't moved.
"Of course I believe you," he finally said, starting to descend. "If you had, the rune would have sealed. You'd be trapped."
"I think this book is important… It's a Dammaz Kron, right?" I asked, pointing at the tome lying on the black stone table.
"Yes… so at least we'll know who to aim our wrath at," said the dwarf, approaching the book with reverent care, mouth slightly ajar.
He spoke a few words in Khazalid and opened the tome. He immersed himself in the reading, and we remained silent as he turned page after page. Occasionally he murmured the word Dammaz. Eventually, he closed the book and looked at me directly.
"Forgive me, Custodian, for having doubted your nobility. But you must understand—I've seen too many umgi take what belongs to the dwarves. I thought this was just another case."
"Bah… don't worry about it. It was my fault not to have the purchase order ready, knowing you'd eventually come. What matters now is… what will happen to this karak?" I asked, more casually.
"This fortress belonged to Clan Grundkaraz. They mined gromril, though I suspect the vein dried up long ago and this became an outpost. That's their crest." He pointed at a stone engraved with the emblem of a pick crossed with what looked like a chunk of ore. "But if my memory serves me… there are still surviving members of this bloodline in Karak Norn."
"I understand the part about heritage and rights, noble dawi. But according to the decree of the Emperor, confirmed by the dwarven ambassadors from Karak Norn, Karaz-a-Karak, and Karak Azgaraz, I've been granted mining rights over these mountains." I crossed my arms, keeping my tone level.
"The treaty between our kings and the Emperor still stands, Custodian. No one will question the honor of a friend to this clan. If the old lineage wants to resettle here, they'll have to negotiate mining rights with you," the dwarf replied firmly.
"Very well… then will you take over protection of the karak now?" I asked, hoping to relieve my men from tunnel watch duty.
"I must return to Altdorf to report to the ambassador of Karak Norn and the other delegates. So I expect you to continue fulfilling your duty as Custodian until more dawi arrive," said the leader, stepping closer. "But more importantly… you must return this Dammaz Kron to its rightful owner."
He handed me the book.
"Eh… shouldn't that be your job?" I asked as I took it, feeling its weight.
"It is your right, Custodian. And your duty. Just as mine is to report. That journal you wrote will serve well," he said, pointing at the diary I had given him earlier.
"Then I'll keep it here, below. I doubt there's a safer place in the region… not even in my castle. As for guarding this karak, I've seen goblin tunnels and others of dwarven make. There may be more strongholds nearby. But, as much as I want to fulfill my duty as a servant of Sigmar and friend of the dawi, I'm short on funds. I won't be able to launch another campaign at least until after the harvest. And with winter… probably not until next year."
"Don't worry, Custodian. The dwarves will repay this debt," he said with a smile, running a hand through his long braided beard.
"I didn't do it for a reward, noble dawi…" I lied smoothly. "Only to fulfill my duty as a Sigmarite and help our friends in the mountains."
"Walk with honor," said the dwarf, nodding solemnly. Then he turned and began his departure from the fortress.