We have Increased the Amount of Dwarves in this Book by 600%

Three weeks ago, Dige had lost his freedom. The dwarf was a military man now. He had a station and a role in the Dark World. He was, in fact, fairly impressive in the eyes of the demon monsters and extra-dimensional horrors. They didn’t even need to put him under a spell to remain compliant. That was done quite often, it seemed.

Dige could see it throughout the hallways, the legions of demons who, in every other circumstance, tried to murder the dwarf without a second thought, and now here they were, docile, social, normal. As normal as they could get. Perhaps this is what the world would look like once it was taken over, just friendly monsters living a simulacrum of what humans did, except more in tune with nature? They were still violent. Dige couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

As he made his way to the rear of the fortress, a monster waved to him as he passed by.

“Dwarf, hello.”

“Hi, Gunch.”

A surprise to see him here, but not of interest to the dwarf. His eyes were focused forward. The witch said they were in engineering, toward the rear of the fortress, near its disposal grounds. Despite the vagueness of the directions, the dwarf found his way perfectly through the labyrinth. 

The depths slowly shed away its stone masonry and were replaced with mechanical gears and iron. The inner workings of Trinity were both magical and mechanical in nature, as expressed by the rumbling of the pistons and pumps on standby, waiting to move its feet hidden beneath the dirt. The dwarf’s pace quickened. This was dwarven craft. The quality couldn’t be mistaken. He found his way into an open storage space at the tail of the beast, a few beams of light piercing through the open shutters.

“Ah, ye must be the new novice here, eh?”

There were only six of them. Their skin was dark and purple, with eyes a pulsing red hue and arms longer and lankier than Dige’s sturdier ones. The lot was a group of white bearded, mutated, weary individuals. The depression hung in the air like a fragrance, and their faces showed no love or passion, even as Dige approached. Slowly, that dispassion turned to fear, then concern.

“I-I be Dige, son of Dodrige, of the Moor Clan,” Dige shuddered, eyes looking up. “I would like-, uh. I propose an internship for the coming years, if you may. Will ye accept me? Behold, my wares.”

Dige opened the orerealm and pulled out some trinkets, which caught their attention, but not their love. One dwarf, the largest one at five feet, looked down on their younger with hands reaching for his beard. 

“You are not of a clan, are ye?” The dwarf asked, mouth hidden behind mounds of hair. “Your whiskers tell everything, young Dige.”

“I am all alone, ma’am.” The dwarf tensed. “But my skills are mighty. Please, accept me.”

An eerie howl overtook the warehouse, and the creeping hands came closer. The dwarf was shushing him, wrapping around him like a spider entombing their prey. The wiry arms showed their strength. Dige was held down tighter and tighter, pressed firmly against the bigger, stronger creature until he could see nothing but the blackness held within the matron’s bosom.

It took him a moment to realize that he was being hugged.

“Oh, it must’ve been so hard for you, laddie.”

Those were the magic words. As if released from social conventions, as if he were a small boulder once again in his mother's arms, Dige wept. Months of suffering unleashed in an instant.

“I’m so glad,” he babbled. “I’m so glad to have found you all.”

“Shhh, don’t worry, little one. Everything will be alright.”

Food was prepared for the crew. It wasn’t enough to feed seven dwarves for now, but the matriarch had a way of making every meal delicious and filling. There was no telling what would happen to the others without her.

Dige spent the eating time regaling the dwarves with his tales. They were mainly from his old world. He felt the most pride in telling that history, but they all requested that he tell his own story. They didn’t seem to care about the distant past. None of them batted an eye at old, ancient feuds or famous battles. Their eyes only glittered on Dige’s exploits. After all, they were speaking to the story’s main character.

“Such a funny little tale,” said the matriarch. “It’s good to hear of our kind in other realms.”

“I didn’t realize we were rare ones,” Dige scratched his head. “Makes me rethink the amount of lil' laddies I want.”

“We dwarves are creatures stuck between light and dark. We don’t get along much with the other creatures around here. Trolls, goblins, orcs. Strange lot they are.”

“Oh, they can’t be that bad.” Dige smiled, but a memory soured the mood. “I couldn’t get along with the humans. I hurt them, even when I didn’t want to. No, that’s not true. I am a devilish creature. My violence causes misfortune to others and myself.”

“Well, it’s their own fault, in a way.” This was a very dwarven answer. Dige could tell. “Humans, elves, those other short creatures? Bugger ‘em too.”

“So I suppose it’s best to stick together, we dwarves. What do you do in this fortress? They made me a bodyguard for some reason.”

“We maintain the fortress and make sure all of the components controlling the beast function appropriately. Magic users, they don’t have a clear enough thinking on how the world works.”

“That sounds like someone I know! Hahahaha-, oh. I’m sad again.”

The matriarch patted his head and made sure he ate his gruel. He had to maintain his strength somehow. 

“Do not worry, little Dige. I can tell you’ve been loved. Don’t think you have to please everyone, especially if you’re different.”

“Well, they all be my enemies now, so I think it’s a wee bit late for that. I’m ready to start over a new leaf again! This dwarf won’t dwell on the past any longer!”

The whole crew looked at each other and drank in silence. Dige could tell he was out of the loop in this small social circle, and their faces concerned him.

“About that,” the matriarch said. Her eyes turned away coquettishly, as if embarrassed. “We were hoping that you’d be a dear and destroy this place. Preferably, with us still in it.”

“Oh, sure. How?” Dige said, but he didn’t process a word of that until a moment later. His eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets. “What!? Why!?”

“Frankly, we don’t like this place. Rather see it blown to smithereens, I say.” They all nodded in agreement, noses snorting.

“But why die with it!?” Dige was about to sob all over again. “Please, mum! I just met ye an hour ago!”

His lips were seized by her long, distended fingers reaching across the table. There was something unnatural to their movement that Dige hadn’t noticed before.

“Do you know how old we are, little Dige? Do you think we’ve always looked like this? Our realm of Mondfeld died almost six centuries ago. All of us were there to witness it. We are not really dwarves, not as you know it, anymore.”

Dige’s heart broke. “No, that’s not true, right? You all look fine, yes?”

A round of cold red eyes returned his gaze, and Dige couldn’t accept this gift any longer.

“I’m sorry, Dige. We’ve been dead a long time. We died when we valued our own lives over the honor of our clan, and would rather join Xim’s forces than fall by a Great Devil’s hand. We’re cowards, so as dwarves we deserve to die, but we can’t rebel ourselves. Xim’s magic is too strong. Only you, who was brought in with no suggestion, can do so.”

Dige didn’t want to cry, but ever since entering his room, he found himself unable to stop. His nightmares hadn’t ended after all. He was still as alone in the world as he always had been. Now he was being told to destroy his new home? What a cruel joke this was. Was there any way out of this endless fate?

“Gods,” he whimpered. "How can I go back to the humans? How can I understand them and speak on their level, have normal feelings and thoughts that didn’t make me act like a monster?”

The hand returned, this time to comfort him once again. Many hands came to his aid.

“It’s like I said, little one. Someone out there loves you. It’s easy to tell. It shows in that beard of yours.”

The young dwarf didn’t understand. Nobody had ever told him that was the truth behind their biology, but in that moment, it all made sense. His terrible journey had not been in vain, and despite his nature, there was still a chance that he’d find a group to belong to. If not here, or in Glynn’s World, but maybe in the Astral Plane itself. There was one certainty, though. It wasn’t here. He was relieved to have learned this truth. Thank you, dwarves of Mondred.