1st month 4th day, 968

  Victor

  It only took us a few hours to get to Tin City, situated on the roots of the mountains that surrounded Ravendale. I’d expected the gnomes to live underground like dwarves, but no, the city was actually on the surface - it wrapped around two large hills separated by a river and spread out a fair bit before giving way to farmland. From a distance I saw windmills in the city proper and I also passed by many more outside. I also noticed that they kept many sorts of animals - goats, sheep, cows, and some other things I’d never seen before.

  The architecture was, for lack of a better word, whimsical - yeah, it certainly felt like I’d entered a strange Dr. Seuss and Leonardo Da Vinci collab project. I’m talking sagging rooflines, bulbous domes, buildings that were wider at the top than the base, all of which was painted in vibrant colors. Not to say there weren’t normal-looking buildings: I saw at least one or two large rectangular ones with massive arched ceilings as we passed through. I really didn’t know what to expect here, but nothing really could have prepared me for how different it was from everywhere else I’d visited so far.

  “This is,” I said, and paused to shake my head, “Really something else.”

  Our passenger said, “Oh but the best is yet to come, Mister Kirkland - be sure to find your way up to the higher terraces, you’re in for a real treat if you go there!”

  Mal nodded, “He’s right - Tin City is said to be full of wonders. As I recall, your folk managed to dam the river and harness all of that water in ways the dwarves hadn’t even dreamed of - the view of the resulting lake is supposed to be breathtaking.”

  “That’s very true Mister Kavian, but I was speaking of the fried cheese curds! You simply must visit Aunt Adeline’s Pub - Adeline Applebottom knows her way around a kitchen, I can tell you!”

  Man that sounded good - I can’t recollect the last time I had some cheese curds. “Damn, y’all are making me hungry here. So, you guys eat a lot of cheese I take it?”

  Mr. Rodrizzle said, wagging his finger. “Good sir, I will have you know that cheese is the single most scrumptious, sumptuous food on the face of our beautiful home! We gnomes take pride in our cheese production, and our wares are renowned throughout the lands as being of the highest quality!”

  “I never object to a good old slice of cheddar myself - goes great on burgers.”

  Illiana said, “Huh? Burgers comes through as cityfolk.”

  Mal nodded, “I hear it more specifically as gentry.”

  Rayna said, blushing, “It means something entirely different in Nordian.”

  “Pedantic comprehension strikes again,” I said, and laughed a little, “As soon as we have some way of grinding meat, I’ll make us all some. They’re a type of sandwich - er - a type of off-hander.”

  “Ah-ha!” Said Mr. Rodrizzle, “Then you’ve come to the right place, Mister Kirkland - yes siree bob, or I’m a dwarf! As it happens, we utilize a superlatively super splendid culinary device that does just that - you put fresh meat in the hopper, turn the crank, and presto - instant sausage filling! I’m certain that there ought to be one available for purchasing somewhere, um, now where was that general store again-”

  He went on for a while as I carefully negotiated the streets - they were more narrow than the ones in Caer Caradon and Andalon but I still managed. I was still in awe - there was a lot of glass here compared to every other place I’d visited in this world so far. There were domed skylights, big bulging half-spheres set into the sides of brass towers, some sort of greenhouse, and I even spotted an observatory with a crooked telescope. After about a half hours worth of driving, Mr. Rodrizzle stopped us just shy of a narrow wooden gateway.

  He said, “You can drop me off here - I’m afraid your mechanical marvel won’t fit in the residential streets since they’re all gnome-sized. Ah, come to think of it, you may need to walk the rest of the way up too, or take a carriage up the hydrolifts. Those turns are about as sharp as aged plym!”

  I turned to Mal, who said “A variety of cheese.” I gave a silent nod of gratitude.

  “All right, Mister Rodrizzle, assuming your wife doesn’t kill ya, I hope you’ll show us around later. Can you recommend an inn? We need one with a carriage house.”

  “I’ll do you one even better: there’s a big, absolutely massive carriage house on the east side of the business quarter - it’s hard to miss!” He started fidgeting, ran a short distance and waved back at us. “Thanks again for savin’ me! Until we meet again!”

  I’m sure we will, assuming Mrs Rodrizzle doesn’t actually kill him.

  Moving on, as suggested we left the Cadillac at this warehouse-sized carriage house: the biggest I’d ever seen actually, in terms of overall breadth. It still wasn’t horribly tall, but it was big enough for man-sized carriages and the like. I’d almost call the damn thing a parking garage with how many carriages and wagons of various sorts I saw in there. After that we were directed to an inn, the Cog and Boll, where we laid down our luggage and took some time to stretch and rest while we strategized. It had been a long and eventful day, after all.

  “I’d like to take the body of that mutant soldier to a laboratory if possible,” said Sylfie. “My deep freeze can only keep it for so long.”

  Mal said, “Does this have something to do with the errand Nenewyn’s on?”

  Sylfie nodded, “Yes. I’m trying to identify the creator of these things - so to that end she’s searching the University records for anything that could give us some sort of clue. I’d also like to find out if these altered men have a weakness that we can exploit in the event that we should encounter them again.”

  Guy was scratching his chin, thoughtfully. “Your highness, forgive me if I’m prying overmuch, but, do you suspect that the Darklord’s vivisectionist is a member of the Black Order, despite the obvious conflict of interest that may represent?”

  Sylfie nodded, “I do, actually. Though I lack conclusive evidence.”

  Mal said, “The key point of contradiction is that the Darklord receives a fell blessing from the steel-devil, who was at odds with the supreme-devil even in the deeps of time.”

  Rayna said, “What if he doesn’t know? I mean, none of us knew that the god of the Black Order was really the supreme-devil until the three of you came back from the Mastermind’s lair.”

  Illiana gasped, “That’s right! I think that only he and the circle of 13 knew - remember what Fayd said?”

  “What, besides blargh I’m a dead asshole? Hold on, let me think,” I closed my eyes for a moment and part of that dungeon-dive played out in my mind’s eye.

  "I'm not going to tell you. That is a secret known only to the circle."

  “Fuck,” I said, “That means our assumption that the Darklord wouldn’t work with the Black Order isn’t necessarily a given.” I pinched my temples. “Now I gotta wonder how many of their lower-ranking members would balk if they knew who they were namelessly praising…would they turn against the order if they knew?”

  Mal shook his head and said, “Doubtful. They certainly know enough…even I had suspected that their god was a demon quite early on, and I was an entry-level initiate. The rituals I witnessed were vague, and the masters of ceremony always took care not to use his name - at first glance it seemed they were worshipping the very concept of destruction.” He stroked his chin. “King Chaos will reign in this land, he’d said, more than once.”

  Illiana said, “But King Chaos isn’t even evil.”

  Mal nodded, “Hence my consternation at his turn of phrase. Could be simple blasphemy, I suppose. Then again there are many who mistakenly attribute that brand of chaos to him.”

  I had to assume he didn’t mean like, those dudes in cool red armor Sakamoto showed me.

  “Sorry,” I said, “Who is King Chaos?”

  “Elianora’s brother. He’s the divine of guile wit, of traps and tricks.” She beamed, “He’s very much like you in many ways, Sir Victor.”

  Sylfie coughed, “Be that as it may, we’ve strayed far. I concur that it’s possible some members of the Black Order may be unaware of the supreme-devil.” She glared sharply, “But most of them have no issue with committing heinous acts and we mustn’t hesitate to act when we battle them - I won’t call it impossible, but, the odds of there being another case like Malcolm aren’t favorable.”

  I said, “If any more of ‘em surrenders willingly, we can hear ‘em out.” Everyone nodded, “Next order of business…”

  After asking around we found that there was a medical laboratory in town, so we dropped Sylfie off with the corpse of the mutated warrior so that she could consult with the local physicians. Mal, Rayna, and Guy went to go looking for supplies while Illiana and I went to the offices of a mining company to make a very specific deal - I wanted to buy all of their wolframite…let me make something perfectly clear: I didn’t mean a little wolframite, and I didn’t mean a whole lot of wolframite, I mean all of it. Not only that, I sought permission to buy a warehouse to store what I couldn’t carry with me.

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  The gnome we spoke to, a certain Nicholas Nobbydongle, was happy to part with it for a relatively low price - and when Illiana pointed out that we had two magic-users in our party capable of using utility-grade metal magic to extract the wolframite straight from the ore he dropped the price even lower; good work, darlin’. I realized it might be a good time for us to go over finances so I made a note to do so whenever we got back to the inn - but I knew that based on weapons sales alone we could certainly afford a good sized warehouse.

  As for the hundreds of pounds worth of wolframite? I think our party spent more on beer. Speaking of which - by the time we’d gotten done making deals and I’d secured a large enough sample to explain the madness of my methods to everyone else, it was near time for dinner. An in-depth explanation could wait until I’d had some fried cheese curds. So since we couldn’t drive to the top terraces we went on foot upriver, towards what I discovered was a large wooden dam; not a big, clean wall of stone like the Hoover Dam, I mean a ramshackle “how the hell is this thing not toppling over” type of dam.

  There were a couple of ways we could have chosen to get up to the top, and I obviously chose the cooler sounding option: we stood on a wooden platform while a gnomish operator turned a crank. Miraculously, we started to rise up, higher and higher, and the scope of this massive city built for little folk filled my eyes with wonder.

  Mal said, “This lift uses water pressure plus a series of cogs and wheels to hoist us aloft! Brilliant, is it not?”

  I nodded, “Yeah. I think Archimedes had an idea for something like his - but I don’t know if it ever got used.”

  Guy said, “I mislike how much it rattles - are we quite certain this is safe.”

  Mal laughed and said, “Naturally, provided nobody makes any sudden-”

  -Rayna suddenly moved, grabbed Mal and clenched her eyes shut. The lift shook alarmingly, and after my heart nearly burst from my mouth it settled down.

  “Apologies,” she said. “Rayna the Crimson Destroyer fears no mortal enemy, but something about seeing the ground from so high up-”

  Mal said, “Don’t worry, Lady Nenewyn did teach me a most useful spell for situations involving heights - one moment you think you’re falling to your doom, then, snap, you’re slowly falling with the grace of a feather!”

  Rayna muttered something and turned to face the rock-face; with a bowed head she gripped the rails tightly. When we finally reached the top she was the first to exit the lift, at which point she casually dusted herself off, smiled, and said as if she was back to her old self:

  “Come, let us dispense with this distraction - I’m so hungry I could eat a mammoth!”

  She wasn’t about to hear any argument from me, and so we found our way to Adeline’s pub. Once we got close enough I started to hear very distinctive music - accordion, piano, barrel organ…no way, is that polka? Polka, fried cheese curds, what are we saying here, are gnomes from Wisconsin? The pub had two sections - one with furniture sized for us “big folk” and one with furniture more suitable for the gnomes.

  “They’re happy to accommodate larger customers, because they rather like how much money we tend to spend on food,” said Mal, “Merchants, ambassadors, oh but especially adventurers - notoriously big eaters!”

  Once we’d been brought our first round of drinks, Illiana poked me.

  “All right buster,” she said “You’ve kept your own counsel long enough - what is tungsten carbide?”

  “You got it,” I said. But first I looked around and said, in English “cheese sucks!” No reaction from the peanut gallery? Good. “I’d rather not spread this particular bit of knowledge around, so what I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave our little circle, got it?”

  Everyone nodded in agreement. “Excellent. Throughout most of my old world’s history, wolframite was seen as useless…until someone discovered a way to make it useful. One of the simplest elements is something we call carbon - the charcoal I use for cooking, and the pencil you may have seen me use? Those are all forms of carbon. In fact, we all have carbon inside of us - so much that we’ve come to call all life on Earth carbon-based. The process of carburization involves mixing powdered wolframite, also known as tungsten, with powdered carbon and subjecting it to extreme heat. This produces tungsten carbide - one of the hardest substances known to man.”

  I took out the rifle round I had in my pocket, “I’m down to just over half my original stock of ammo - until I can figure out the problem of primer and smokeless powder, I need every shot to count. You see, tungsten carbide can be made into many things: one of which is armor-piercing rounds.”

  I got a generalized sense of ah-ha from my audience.

  Sylfie said, “I see, the fewer shots it takes to bring down a heavily armored foe the longer you can stretch your ever dwindling supply.”

  Illiana said, “That’s right - even though both his guns are magic weapons now…there’s been times where one shot wasn’t enough. The Mastermind’s cylinder for one thing.”

  Sylfie said, “Basic magic enhancements on ranged weapons generally only improve accuracy, and help one bypass resistance to non-magical weapons - they don’t offer much in terms of improving penetrative power. There is one powerful gravity-based enhancement that can increase the power of a longbow so that it’s higher relative to its actual draw weight, but that won’t help us here. The shape and material is more…impactful for lack of a better term.”

  Guy said, “Adamantine has great penetrative power when made into weapons, but it is deucedly rare and expensive. I see, I don’t know how the two metals compare in terms of hardness but…”

  Rayna said, “I wonder if it’s magically conductive like orichalcum.”

  Illiana said, “Ah I see now why you were so keen to get so much of it!”

  I nodded. “But getting the raw materials is just step one,” I said, “Because I still need to find a way to actually melt it in the first place. Your crucibles would be reduced to slag before they even got close to the melting point of tungsten. If I remember right, it was somewhere in the neighborhood of five thousand degrees Fahrenheit. ”

  Sylfie said, leaning in with pressed fingers. “Can you explain what five thousand degrees means exactly?”

  Gah! I forgot - these guys don’t have thermometers. “It’s twice the temperature of molten steel.”

  Everyone’s eyes nearly popped out. Sylfie looked utterly horrified, “T-twice? Did you say twice as in double?”

  “More or less, yeah.”

  Sylfie held her head and clenched her eyes in disbelief. “That’s…that’s even hotter than dragonfire!”

  I nodded, “Yeah. It took a lot of technological advancement on our end - we needed an electric arc furnace. But you don’t have anything nearly that sophisticated here.”

  Sylfie nodded, while Iliana rubbed her back. “Aye. Such a temperature is unthinkable - you would need a magic-based solution I think. But to sustain temperatures that high for a long time would require an absurd amount of magical energy…the container would also need to receive powerful fire-resistance enchantments. That’s going to be difficult, and expensive.”

  “How expensive are we talking here?”

  “I couldn’t give you an exact quote,” said Sylfie, counting on her fingers, “But I’d wager it would cost twice as much as your Cadillac’s fuel system conversion.”

  “Jehosephat!” My hat would have flown clean off if it wasn’t on a peg.

  Rayna said, “Huh, I’d been meaning to ask - just how much did that cost?”

  I said, matter of factly, “20,000 gold crowns.”

  Guy and Rayna both paled, sweat ran down the sides of their faces, and their eyes threatened to bug out.

  Guy said, “Zounds! I - er - would be full glad of the opportunity to contribute, but I’ve only a paltry sum left after tithes and after adding new magical enhancements to mine armor...ironically, ‘twas a ward against flame.”

  Rayna said, “I’ve barely spent my share of Snacqua’s hoard, perhaps I-”

  I waved my hand, “You’re all kind to offer, but I’d rather not be in debt - even to friends. I’ve either gotta earn the cash myself, or find another solution.”

  Illiana said, “Don’t be so stubborn, Sir Victor! Mayhap ‘twould help to think of it as…an investment! Rayna and Guy could both use armor-piercing arrowheads could they not? Once we’ve all figured out we can make some useful things for them, surely!”

  Hmm that idea had merit. But we didn’t have time to mull it over - because that’s when our food arrived. By the way, my beer was a sort of cold lager - Illiana and Sylfaena were having cranberry juice…the gnomes are not beating those Wisconsin allegations any time soon. The cheese curds were really good, I’ll say, as was the fat slab of goat meat. There was also some sort of cheese-stuffed bun - it was real sproingy, I thought it might have been made of tapioca…huh so they have tapioca here do they? Illiana liked the one she got with her meat so much she ordered a basket of them.

  Food always puts my mind at ease, and it seemed like I wasn’t the only one. But all the same - I couldn’t help but wonder where Maera was, and worry about her. Gah, already developing that kind of instinct am I? Reckon I’ll be more than prepared for whenever me and Illiana start havin’ kids in that case. Not that I was nearly old enough to have a daughter her age, but, damned if it didn’t feel like I was turnin’ into her overprotective uncle or something. Over my ass...I'm exactly as protective as I need to be, if anything I ain't tryin hard enough! I gotta do something about this.

  But what?

  I’d thought about putting up some kind of missing person flyer but I realized that’d be a bad idea for a number of reasons especially if I involved the adventurer’s guild. If I tell them the real reason I was looking for her, she’d have not just adventurers but every low-life bounty hunter for miles around trying to track her down - I can’t guarantee her safety, or theirs, if that happened, and I’d be a real asshole if I didn’t tell them about Misty and someone got killed because of it. If I fibbed and say she’s a missing family member, that’s going to invite a lot of questions and potentially lead to someone thinkin’ they could just kidnap her and hold her for ransom - nevermind the fact that I’d actually talked to the guards at the town of Four-Ways and they laughed right in my face. A grown woman, with a primal beast, she's probably just gone off to become an adventurer, they'd said - gah!

  No. I had to do this personally - and at that moment I realized I knew just how.

  “Hey Sylfie,” I said, “How long do you reckon you’ll need to research that mutant dude?”

  She thought a moment and said, “Hmm a few days I think. It also depends on what Nenewyn finds on her end. Why?”

  “While you’re working on that, I’d like to get out and look for Maera again - and I reckon I have an idea how.”

  “What’s the idea, Sir Victor?” Illiana was looking hopefully.

  There’s a saying, a tactical idiom if you will, or an old west cliche, your mileage may vary: cut ‘em off at the pass.

  “I’m going to Dreadmoor.”