Oblivion's Crown

by M. H. Johnson

  The older dwarf smiled. “Of that, I had no doubt. Though offered freely, with gratitude, my offering alliance with your cause was a test. And one you have passed beyond all expectation. There can now be no doubt that you walk the Path of Kings, that you can bend the cords of destiny to your will.”

  “Only in certain ways,” Val hastily explained. “It is more like I’m uncovering secrets long hidden, or finding out that problems once thought crippling are far less burdensome than we thought.”

  Garilius chuckled softly. “Like a thousand automatons needing a simple reboot, when we all know that in another place and time, no more real than a dream now, they were infected by a dreadful madness that would have spelled our doom. But never mind that. I will not mock kind fates with the inconvenience of ugly statistical impossibilities.”

  “Like Valorium mines with reserves sufficient to forge an entire empire that we had thought forever out of resonance, are somehow now in perfect sync,” whispered another elder.

  “Far more than simple coincidence and probabilities!” declared Natturan, peering intently at Val. “An entire province was struck by what should have been our doom, only for reality itself to crack and bleed with arcane energies so potent they risk infecting our entire world!”

  Val bowed his head, unable to deny the piercing bolt of shame lancing through him. “Yes, the fault is mine. All those deaths, the horror unleashed.”

  “Even as you struck a crippling blow to your enemies,” Arilius soothed. “Though none save my daughter can fully appreciate the trials you have endured, or know the details of the battles you have fought, even we know that our enemies had begun to amass considerable forces in that region, and now? They are no more. You truly walk destiny’s path, Valor, and we can only hope your gifts will allow you to do what must be done to recover our greatest prize.”

  Val took a deep, steadying breath. “What exactly do you need me to do?”

  “We need you to enter the heart of that ancient city, avoiding all its traps and peril. We need you to claim that city as your own, laying all other contenders low.”

  “And we need you to build a gate,” Natturan added. “A gate linking Falinnborg to Stridborg, the moment the city is claimed and all opposition has fallen. Then, only then, will it be safe for us to do what must be done.”

  Garilius flashed a fierce grin. “We finish the prototype, take to the skies, and blast that damned Dreadnought to Phoebe’s deepest pit of purgatory!”

  Val blinked, feeling chilled, awed, and fiercely hopeful. “Those dreadnoughts are beyond deadly,” he cautioned, clamping down on the thrill he also felt at the idea. Caution, first. He needed to make sure his allies understood what the risks truly entailed.

  Garilius smirked. “Don’t you think we know that, boy? Don’t you think we were planning for the absolute worst-case scenario, just in case those damned Highlords planned to betray us?”

  “Which they did,” Astmar snarled. “Just days before we were ready!”

  Their king solemnly nodded. “That is the burden before us, Valor Hunter. You have already done so much for us, yet I must ask for your services once more. For the sake of Ava, for the sake of your own flesh and blood, will you do this for us?”

  Hidden questline revealed! Will you Save my People? V! The dwarven people require your services once more! If they are to have any hope of surviving beyond the time it takes the Dominion to find their ancient city, they must take the initiative and claim the skies of Jordia as their own! Only you have the skills necessary to collapse endless possibilities into a concrete reality, bringing an ancient city and its priceless secrets to dwarven engineers who can actually use them!

  Warning! Accepting this quest runs the risk of dramatically changing the lives and destinies of Jordia’s entire quadrant! With the rise of a spacefaring dwarven empire possessing true symbiotic social unity and cognitive capabilities far beyond most humans, who knows what they might one day accomplish?

  You have chosen yes! Your reputation with the citizens of Falinnborg has risen to +7! You have gained a new title: Disciple of the Living Goddess. Even if you perish in your foolhardy quest to explore an unstable dwarven ruin (remember, no parachuting out for you!) you will still live on in dwarven songs and legends. At least until the Dominion zeroes in on the home of your wife and child and blows them to oblivion.

  Best you don’t die, Val. Good luck with that!

  Val bowed his head before a relieved-looking Arilius. “I will do everything in my power to claim Stridborg in the hopes that will lead us to a ship worthy of the skies above. But I have to warn you, I can’t promise that it will work. If this city is anything like the ruins in my favorite computer games, I might not even survive the journey. But I’ll do my best, I promise you that.”

  Garilius’s face lit with a fierce smile of approval. “We can ask for no more than that, lad. Look death in the face and spit in its eye, even as you charge forward for the sake of your people! People who will honor you in their hearts and the legends we will one day tell our children, whether glory or folly meets your final footsteps.” He lifted his goblet in toast. “Because you chose to fight by our side, we will honor you all our days.”

  The entire council lifted golden goblets high, drinking in unison, and a blushing Val couldn’t help but grin, cherishing the feeling that he really was lost in a story wondrous and grand, playing the hero in his favorite MMORPG, only it was utterly and completely real.

  And the consequences of failure? Didn’t even bear thinking about.

  “I have a gift of my own to give,” he said as the beaming dwarves put down their goblets, pulling out several handfuls of crystalline cubes that had survived storage in his interdimensional rift perfectly, the microthin layers of Elementium used to store information in this universe serving as convenient anchor points for his magically aligned storage space.

  The dwarves eyes widened as he explained their use.

  “These cubes the color of liquid silver contain the blueprint designs of all known Dominion ships, listing the weakest points of their armor, structural design, and what frequencies are most likely to counteract their shields and rupture their systems. The cubes shimmering like rainbows contain information on how to construct an Altersian-Elementium alloy in a silicate matrix that is particularly resistant to Dominion-frequency lasers.” Val frowned, rubbing his forehead. “At least, that’s what I think I heard said. Sadly, engineering isn’t really my strength. Though I’m now pretty good at sensing weak points in structures and fixing things, that’s due to magic, not mechanical brilliance.”

  Val flashed a rueful grin. “My father may be proud of my knack for survival, but he’s always regretted that I was never able to follow in his footsteps. I’m neither the businessman nor inventor that he is. My insights are geared more toward survival and magical intuition, I think.”

  All the dwarves present were staring intently at the cubes.

  Val grimaced. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know if you can interface with Dominion tech and read the things. I should have thought of that.”

  Arilius chuckled softly. “We will make do, dear Val. Fear not, we will make do. And we are grateful, Valor, for the princely gift you have given us.”

  “I don’t suppose you could make copies?” Val asked. “Now that I think of it, if one of my allies could cover our mecha with that matrix, that would give us an incredible edge against our enemies.”

  Garilius exchanged glances with his king, both breaking out in wide grins. “These blueprints include Dominion battle-mechs as well as their ships, yes?”

  Val nodded. “I’m pretty sure they do.”

  “Then you let us worry about that end of things, lad,” Arilius said, all of the dwarves rising as one. Arilius patted Val on the shoulder, leading him out of the council chamber with final farewells before heading back to the elegant palace of bronze and Elementium that Ava called home.

  Val couldn’t help noting how Arilius smiled at the playful a
ntics of young children, so like their human counterparts, who would run up and say hello before smiling at Val and dashing off, countless doting mothers watching from a distance, and not one failed to genuflect under Val’s gaze, awkward as that made him feel.

  “Forgive them, Valor. It is not every day they see a living legend they hear constant stories about in the flesh, just as much a person as a living ideal."

  Val grinned. “Of course, though I'm so far from any virtuous ideal that it shames me. I’m just happy to see these city streets filled with light and laughter.”

  Arilius nodded, eyes haunted by memories of what almost came to pass. “To think, just two years ago, this part of the city was shrouded in darkness and gloom. The magnificent towers you see before you, gleaming of pristine Elementium-infused alloys, stood as darkened sentinels. Home only to crystalline madness that even now seems no more real than a dream.”

  King Arilius shook his head in awe as an automaton came trundling by, exotic bronze calipers and laser-like eyes examining the buildings nearby for signs of wear, Val’s limited Psionic senses detecting a mind that had always been utterly serene and at peace with its world.

  Val gazed thoughtfully at the dwarf now as dear to him as the grandfather he’d never had. “I’ve been meaning to ask, is there any aspect of the city you’d like to see improved?”

  Arilius blinked, gazing at Val strangely. “I can’t quite fathom what you mean, Grandson.”

  Val smiled. “It sort of comes with my having claimed ownership...” Val coughed awkwardly. “I mean, binding Falinnborg’s destiny with my own. Your territory’s level 10 status is beyond impressive, but considering that it’s the final stronghold of a technologically advanced race with a thousand automatons and access to Valorium mines, I guess it’s not surprising. Anyway, you should see a base improvement of about 50% to research, production, fertility, happiness, and luck.”

  Arilius blinked, his bright blue eyes filled with wonder and awe.

  An embarrassed Val looked away. “Anyway, those are your base bonuses. Because I’m a Level 6 Overlord, I can give you an additional 60% bonus in one area of your choosing. I can also give you a short-term additional bonus that I would have to recast every month that will either further boost one of those spheres of influence or help avert folly in general. That’s not so much me as a blessing from Phoebe herself.”

  They walked in thoughtful silence, Val gazing with wonder at the magnificent buildings and tiny little groves in odd corners, the touches of green nurtured by dwarven mages and arcane crystals adding to the solemn beauty all around. “I would say luck,” Arilius said at last. “For all that boosts in research would be incredibly useful, and added Valorium and Elementium mined will aid us greatly in the long run, these are factors we can control. How diligently we pursue our research, how disciplined and focused our craftsmen are, all of this is within our control. What we have no control over are the vagaries of the universe and the actions of others. If Fate and our goddess can be implored upon to show mercy to my poor vulnerable people, I would be grateful for that boon above all others, Valor.”

  Val nodded. “Luck it is, then, and a prayer to Phoebe to bring mercy, should direst folly come your way.” He closed his eyes and smiled, knowing he was just imagining the gentle approval of the fearsome, impossibly beautiful woman he now encountered whenever he leveled up, having earned her gratitude, condemnation, and, he hoped, forgiveness through his trials.

  To find that his secret suspicions might be nothing less than the truth, humbled him to no end.

  Arilius chuckled. “I do feel strangely at peace. And as energized as I have felt since my people first awakened. Truly your gifts are beyond remarkable, Grandson.”

  Val grinned. “I’m glad to hear it. Just remember, even in the best fairy tales...”

  “Foolishness and folly are met with bitterest woe. Don’t worry, Valor. We won’t take our goddess’s blessings lightly.” Arilius stopped before the bronze door polished to a mirror finish that led to Ava’s personal domicile, clapping Val on the shoulder. “Soon destiny’s ticking clock will demand all haste. But for now, savor every moment you have with your wife and child. Be free of worry and care. We will come for you, when it is time.”

  Val solemnly nodded as the dwarven king smiled and waved farewell before heading back to the handful of counselors who had been quietly trailing them. Val couldn’t suppress the tingling in the pit of his stomach as he opened the door, heart bursting with love for the two beautiful angels waiting for him even now. Ava’s sultry laughter washing over him as he swept her voluptuous form in a spinning pirouette, his daughter squealing happily between them.

  “I missed you, husband,” Ava said, her sultry stare sending Val’s heart racing.

  “And I you,” he whispered, soft lips caressing her own before pulling away with a smile as their daughter made her wants known.

  “Later,” Ava grinned. “When our daughter is resting. For now, come. There is an entire city I want to show you, in all her wonder and glory.”

  Val nodded and soon found himself amazed once more by the magnificent splendor hidden in the deepest reaches of the underdark, contentedly pushing a mechanized dwarven stroller before him, savoring every moment he got to spend with those he loved so very much, little Avelina delighting in the trees overhead as she explored the four sacred groves with her parents. And how the ancient keeper of the farmost grove, Natturan himself, gazed on with wonder when Val, sharing a smile with Ava, gently requested for the ancient druid to bring Val to the storerooms kept under his care, where despite the Aborium reverberators being in perfect working order, no trace of Silbion had been successfully gathered, so great was the evaporation rate within Jordia’s depths.

  Natturan gazed at Val with sorrow, as if fearing his disappointment, only to fall to his knees and weep as a smiling Val filled the central cistern completely full of Silbion with near the entirety of his stores. Only a single litre’s worth did he keep for himself.

  “King of kings, you have given us a gift our technology could not! These reserves will last us for millennia! For rescuing our city, for bringing our Automatons back to life, our Valorium mines as well, and now for this wondrous gift… I cannot express the gratitude welling in my heart, for my eyes finally see hidden truths long hidden!” Ancient hands tenderly touched Val’s temple. “Your blood echoes with the nobility of our most sacred heroes, long thought lost to legend as they dared to explore the countless worlds inhabited by humans, centuries before treachery was known. And now, beyond all doubt or question, it is obvious their blood still burns brightly through the eyes of the most noble of humans!”

  Congratulations! You have gifted your dwarven people with the one resource they need beyond all others! Your reputation has risen to an unprecedented +8! More than a champion, more than Phoebe’s disciple, you have embraced dwarven legends to their fullest, their Chosen amongst them once more. Your daughter’s status, already high, has risen to Revered, the bloodlines of ancient heroes having joined Ava’s own, promising them a queen of queens who will rule with wisdom and justice for centuries to come! No pressure, right?

  Val had chuckled softly, lifting the old dwarf to his feet, making it clear he could ask for no greater reward than the gratitude in the dwarf’s eyes, knowing he had made a difference. Though he was happy enough to accept dinner underneath the trees.

  Natturan’s daughters piled Ava and Val’s golden plates high with delicious vegetarian fare unlike anything Val had ever had before, melting in his mouth like flaky fish with a nutty aftertaste he found utterly delightful. He smiled at the antics of the ancient dwarf’s grandchildren showing off or doting over little Avelina, the entire family plying a bemused Ava and an increasingly incredulous Val with stories of ancient dwarven heroes and the feats of derring-do they had accomplished, including taking human wives and adventuring on planets far from their own before the Dominion had taken over everything, each of those dwarven children declaring with u
tter certainty that it was obvious to everyone that Val descended from their lines.

  And Val had thought it the perfect time to entertain them with tales of his own.

  “Good. Finish the sweep. No survivors,” crackled the chilling orders from the nameless Dominion trooper whose voice projected so clearly from the dwarven recorder Val had pulled out of storage before the sounds of blaster fire and screams could be heard, Val recounting the sordid tales of treachery and intrigue he had experienced since his return to Jordia, always with the recorder he had plucked from the inquisitor that had almost spelled Christine and Julia’s doom.

  Remarkably, none of the dwarves minded how graphic the accounts of what had happened and what he had done were, even as he had thought better of some of the recordings he had played, wincing as the children cheered in excitement at Val’s recounting of crashing Veri Koira’s velimobile, or stealing 20 battle-mechs right out from under Inquisitor Dimitry’s nose.

  If anything, Natturan and his daughters seemed almost grateful as Val revealed the depths of inquisitor treachery and duplicity.

  “And this is why we must never leave ourselves vulnerable to humans,” Natturan explained. “At least, not to humans lacking the noble blood of our ancestors, like our beloved Valor here, who anyone can see is as much dwarf as man.”

  Val blinked at that, even Ava smiling and nodding as she held Val close. “Remember, children. Not all humans are evil like inquisitors or Dominion soldiers. But they share no links of mind or soul. One man you meet might radiate nothing but goodwill, even as he introduces you, as unwitting as any fool, to the man who intends your doom.”

  The children shivered at that.

  “If they don’t know the hearts of their fellows, if they don’t know the true language, how can you trust them? How can they trust each other?” asked one soft-spoken girl, beautiful blue eyes gazing intently into Ava’s own.

  Ava smiled, dipping her head. “Exactly, Jilsea. Now you understand.” She then kissed Val’s cheek, grinning impishly as she adroitly plucked the dwarven cube from Val’s hands. “And now I will show my husband the true capabilities of this device, so he might also better understand the world he lives in.”