As Arin stepped past the stone threshold of the gate, everything changed.
The difference between outside and inside was not just a wall…
it was a passage from one world to another.
Rotana greeted him first with its sound.
A continuous metallic hum, like a deep pulse beneath the ground.
The steady beat of hammers—some heavy and powerful, others sharp and quick.
The scraping of chains, the squeak of rollers, and the roar of ovens working tirelessly.
Yet strangely… it was not chaos.
It was rhythm.
The rhythm of a city built from stone and fire, yet alive.
The streets were wide, paved with massive stone slabs laid perfectly, barely any gaps.
On either side, multi-story stone buildings rose, their facades adorned with intricate geometric carvings—mostly hammers, chains, gears, and mountains.
The windows were not large but deep, framed with polished metal.
From some balconies, thick glass in brass lanterns hung, hinting that the city never truly slept when night fell.
Above, narrow stone bridges connected some buildings, allowing passage between upper floors without descending to the street.
Arin slowly lifted his head, his eyes widening with every new detail.
— This… is incredible.
He whispered it, as if afraid to break the magic of the moment.
Rai walked beside him, smiling.
— Rotana doesn't impress with gold… it impresses with work.
To their right, a row of open workshops buzzed with activity.
Dwarves in thick work clothes, arms exposed, muscles taut, hammered iron on massive anvils.
Orange sparks flew into the air, flashing momentarily before fading.
But among the dwarves… were humans.
A young man pumping air into a forge.
A human woman standing behind a table displaying newly-made farming tools.
A human man negotiating with a short, broad-bearded dwarf over the price of a set of iron nails.
Arin noticed something important.
There was no visible tension.
The noise was loud, yes.
The arguments sharp at times, yes.
But practical… direct.
The dwarves spoke clearly, without excessive politeness.
The humans bargained, tried to lower prices, yet knew the value of what was made here.
A gravelly dwarf voice called out, laughing at a human:
— If you want it cheaper, buy the wood and make it yourself!
The human laughed in reply:
— And if I could, I'd build an entire city!
They exchanged a brief glance, then returned to bargaining.
Arin whispered:
— They're not what I expected.
— How did you expect them? Rai asked without looking at him.
— More… closed off, maybe. Or more aggressive.
She smiled.
— Dwarves respect those who work, pay, and follow the law.
It doesn't matter if you're human or not… as long as you don't disrespect their craft.
A group of dwarves returning from outside passed by, their beasts loaded with raw materials—unpolished metals, uncut gems.
A guard at the entrance of an alley greeted them briefly with a fist-to-chest salute, and they returned it in kind.
— They are connected to their land, Rai explained.
— And to their craft. Rotana is not just a market… it's the industrial heart of Khazad.
The smell of freshly baked bread suddenly mingled with the scent of coal and iron.
Arin turned toward the source and saw a small bakery made of dark stone, its door open, a dwarf woman pulling round loaves from an internal stone oven.
Next to it, a shop displayed short daggers with exquisitely carved handles.
Here, contrast was not contradiction.
It was harmony.
Fire for bread.
Fire for iron.
Arin paused in the middle of the street, slowly scanning with his eyes.
Dwarf children ran through the alleys, their laughter loud.
A human girl gazed in awe at a shield displayed behind thick glass.
An elderly dwarf sat in front of his shop, smoking a short pipe, eyes sharp on passersby.
Arin thought:
— This city was built to live… not to be tested.
He felt warmth.
Not just the warmth of the sun…
But warmth from movement, trade, human voices.
He looked at Rai.
— Did you always walk here alone?
She nodded.
— I would come, buy, and leave. I never stayed long.
He looked down the street again.
— Now I understand why you chose it.
She gave him a sidelong glance.
— And why do you think so?
He smiled faintly.
— Because it resembles you a little.
She raised an eyebrow.
— How so?
— Strong on the outside… practical… doesn't waste time on decoration.
But if you look closely… you find the details. The precision. The hidden warmth.
She paused, then spoke quietly:
— Don't over-philosophize, or I'll raise your assistant's commission.
Arin laughed.
For the first time in a long while… his laughter was light.
He looked at the street stretching before him, where taller stone towers rose deeper inside—perhaps where the great halls were, maybe the administrative palace, perhaps other secrets unseen from here.
He took a deep breath.
— This place… he said slowly.
— Feels like it will change many things.
Rai looked ahead steadily.
— Rotana doesn't change anyone.
Then after a moment, she added:
— But it reveals what's inside.
Arin's heart skipped half a beat.
He smiled.
And they continued walking… deeper into a city that was not just stone and hammers.
But a new beginning, under a sky still blue above walls of fire and iron.
And as they moved deeper into Rotana's streets, Arin began noticing details he hadn't seen at the gate.
At first, he thought they were minor differences…
But as he passed other dwarves, the thought became clear.
The dwarf hammering iron to his left—broad-shouldered, yes—was not much shorter than some humans he had seen earlier.
Right after him, a dwarf woman stood behind a cart of dyed fabrics, taller than her counterpart in the neighboring workshop.
Then he paused.
"They're not as uniform as I thought."
He slowed his steps slightly, observing unconsciously.
Clear differences in height… build… even in facial features.
He whispered at last:
— Rai.
— Hmm?
— Did you notice something?
She glanced at him sideways.
— I notice many things. Which do you mean?
He subtly pointed at two dwarves arguing near a tools shop. One was much shorter than the other.
— Height.
She smiled before he continued.
— I always thought "dwarves" meant they were all short. But… that's not what I see.
A relatively tall dwarf woman walked past them, carrying a basket of bread confidently, nearly reaching the shoulder of a nearby human man.
Arin said thoughtfully:
— Some are shorter than humans, yes… but some are not. And there are clear differences between men and women… and among individuals themselves.
Rai exhaled slowly, as if she had been waiting for this moment.
— I told you before… a name doesn't define a people.
They paused briefly at a small intersection, where a low stone fountain flowed with clear water.
The sunlight reflected on its surface, and the gentle sound eased the hammering in the distance.
Rai stood by the fountain, touching the water with her fingertips before continuing:
— The word "dwarves" came from the outside. From other peoples.
It spread, and it stuck.
But height was never a measure of how we define ourselves.
Arin looked at her with genuine interest.
— Then what is the measure?
She raised her eyes to his.
— Endurance.
— Precision in craft.
— Belonging to the mountain… even if we live away from it.
She paused, then added lightly:
— And height… is just a biological detail. Like eye color.
Three young dwarves passed by them, one relatively tall, the other average, the third very short—but all laughed the same way, moved with the same confidence.
Arin watched them with a faint smile.
— So… all those stories I heard were exaggerations.
— Many stories are built on one image, then generalized.
They resumed walking.
The ground beneath their feet was slightly warm from the nearby workshops, the air heavy with the scent of burnt wood and fresh bread.
Arin spoke aloud:
— Strange how one word can paint a full picture in the mind… and reality can break it so easily.
Rai glanced at him with a half-smile.
— The world is bigger than the words we use to describe it.
Then she added lightly:
— And bigger than the prejudices we carry.
He nodded slowly.
— I guess I used to see "dwarves" as an idea… not as individuals.
— And now?
He paused, observing an older, relatively tall dwarf walking with a decorated cane, a very short girl holding his hand.
Arin smiled.
— Now I see them… as people.
Rai stepped ahead of him, then glanced back for a few seconds.
— And that's the first real lesson you learn inside Rotana.
He raised an eyebrow.
— What is it?
She said firmly, as the city's noise continued around them:
— Don't reduce anyone to a name.
Her words echoed in his mind for a moment.
Then he looked around again—at the different faces, heights, and movements.
Rotana was not a city of "dwarves."
It was a city of individuals.
And Arin felt that… he was truly beginning to see.