Something is Rotten in the State of Iron Maw

Gus scratched his head and glanced around.

“Hold up… rails? I thought this was supposed to be some kinda highway.”

Marcus shook his head in mock authority.

“Gus, Gus, Gus… how’s this supposed to be a highway? We’re underground! If anything, it’s a lowway.”

“A Lowway?” Gus pulled a face. “Dude, that ain’t even a thing!”

“Sure it is! My Uncle Stu worked on one once.”

Gus didn’t bother answering, just rolled his eyes.

“Now that you mention it…” Lis piped up, crouching to inspect the cavern floor, “…the last time I came through here, there weren’t even rails! Back then, the dwarves drove their machines right down the tunnel.”

Bromor nodded while fiddling with wheels, shifting levers and activating a few more runes.

“Aye, you’ve got the right of it. The rail network was only laid a decade ago. Our machines eat up heaps of concentrated Leyrunit, and since the deposits keep growin’ scarcer, we had to find ways to make it last longer.”

One last lever was pulled, one final rune lit up, and suddenly the tracks flared with an azure glow, veins of Leyrunit shining bright.

Then he turned to Gus.

“…All right, lad, bring your contraption over! Our pickup should be here any moment!”

Gus raised a brow but didn’t argue. 

Not long after he’d parked the Golf near the rails, a rumbling echoed out of the depths of the tunnel.

The sound grew louder, rattling through the rock, until a blinding light cut through the dark and bore down on them.

What emerged was a squat hulk of metal, every inch riveted and plated, its surface crawling with runes and inlaid veins of glowing Leyrunit.

Thick steel wheels clamped into the rune-etched tracks, spitting sparks as they ground forward.

Bromor’s grin widened as the machine screeched to a halt beside them.

“The Deephauler. Strong enough to drag eighteen machines at once!”

“Neat. Got a dining car too?” Marcus asked.

A round iron door swung open at the driver’s cabin and a dwarf leapt down.

A heavy helmet hid most of his face and only a long, bushy beard jutted out, while a soot-blackened patch of skin peeked between thick goggles and his iron rim.

“How many?” he barked.

“Only one! Five passengers!” Bromor shouted back.

The dwarf’s eyes swept over the odd group, then landed on the strange vehicle beside them. 

He tore off his goggles and blinked in disbelief.

“By the ancestors, what in stone’s name is that contraption? And who the hell are you!?”

A few moments later, after Bromor had explained everything, the Golf was secured onto one of the Deephauler’s many loading platforms, while the group climbed into the driver’s cabin.

“…Not much business lately. You’re my first haul in days,” the conductor explained as the machine clattered deeper into the shaft.

“Why’s that?” Caeriel asked, calmly surveying the cabin.

“Most of the dwarves returned weeks ago to Ironmaw for the early Thanes’ Assembly. Plenty goin’ on there right now.”

“…early?” Bromor burst out. “By my beard, I hadn’t heard a word about that!”

“Thanes Assembly?” Caeriel pressed.

“Aye,” the driver continued. “The Thanes are restless. They claim the king’s done too little to ease the shortage. The Leyrunit veins dwindle by the day…”

Marcus crossed his arms.

“Huh, is that so? Well hey, good thing Bromor and I just found a dungeon full of...”

Bromor’s boot smashed into his shin, and he yanked Marcus close with a growl.

“Shut your gob, lad! If word gets out what we uncovered, every dwarf in Ironmaw will fight us for the claim. It has to stay between us for now, understood?”

“…Ow, all right, I get it! No need to stomp so damn hard!”

The conductor shot them a suspicious glance but said nothing more.

“Anyway… whatever business brings ye to Ironmaw, best see to it quickly. Things could turn ugly fast. If ye ask me, we don’t need a new king, we need the whole system torn down. And I’m not the only one…”

The group exchanged uneasy looks as the Deephauler rumbled ever deeper into the dark, the rails lit only by the sweep of its headlights.

---

Hours later, the tunnel suddenly widened.

The rock walls fell away, and before them stretched a colossal cavern.

No sun shone here, only stalactites high above, glowing in every color.

Below, spread across terraces and bridges, lay a vast city. 

Rails and pipes crisscrossed between workshops and towers, all hugging the shore of a black underground lake.

Chain-lifts dragged loaded platforms skyward, hammer blows rang through the air, and in the distance rose a round palace, carved straight into the rock.

Bromor rose to his feet, fist pressed to his chest, voice ringing with pride.

“Ironmaw! Heart of our people, and the greatest hall o’ tinkers in the world!”

The others could only stare, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of it.

The Deephauler slowed as it entered the outskirts, finally groaning to a halt inside what looked like a massive station hall.

“…Here we are,” the conductor said, stepping out with them and unloading the Golf. “I’d give ye a tour myself, but the Thanes’ Assembly in the Thingolt Hall begins soon, and no dwarf would miss it. Time for the people to take the reins again!”

He turned to Bromor.

“…You too, brother. Now that you’re here, you’d best join us.”

Bromor nodded. “Aye.”

“Aye,” the conductor echoed, before vanishing into the city.

The group’s eyes all turned to Bromor.

“…I’ve still got plenty to do,” he admitted. “And I think I should see this Assembly myself. Here...” He pressed a yellowed slip of paper into Gus’s hand. “Name and address of a master tinkerer and Leyrunit smith I know. If he can’t help you with your stuff, nobody can. I’ll catch you later.”

Then he vanished behind the stone buildings.

“Well then, time to see if this tinkerer can get my Golf and our phones running again!” Gus said, grinning ear to ear.

“…And don’t forget my vape! I’m already having withdrawals…” Marcus muttered.

They were just about to set off when Caeriel grabbed Marcus by the shoulder.

“Wait. Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh, with Gus, like always?”

“You’re coming with me this time. We need lodging, and you’re the only one with gold.”

“Aww, no way… I’m not some walking ATM! Gus! Dude! Say something!”

But Gus was already striding off in the other direction with Lis at his side.

“One single room with a bath, please! Thanks!” he called back with a grin.

Marcus hung his head as Caeriel dragged him off by the sleeve.

---

As they wandered through the alleys of Ironmaw in search of an inn, a heavy mood hung over the city.

Hooded dwarves dashed through the streets, scrawling slogans like “Down with the Thanes!” and “Freedom for Ironmaw!” before armored guards gave chase.

Marcus scratched his neck, glancing around nervously.

“…I dunno. I got a real bad feeling about this.”

Caeriel arched a brow.

“What do you mean? Uprisings happen from time to time. The guards crush them, and then life goes on as usual.”

Marcus crossed his arms, head tilting like he was digging through half-forgotten memories.

“Yeah, maybe… but this feels different somehow. I swear I saw something like this in a documentary once… what was it called again…”

“Be quiet and keep your eyes open for a free room instead,” Caeriel cut him off. “The last three inns were all full.”

Marcus groaned. “Man, I’d kill for one normal...”

He stopped mid-sentence, his jaw dropping as a stout woman was passing through.

Her face was framed by a long, braided beard that reached down to her chest.

Marcus stared like he’d seen a ghost. “Holy fuck. They do exist!”

Caeriel tugged him by the sleeve, deadpan as ever.

“…Stop gawking, idiot.”

Marcus stumbled along after her, muttering under his breath.

“…They really have beards.”