Prelude

It is with a very heavy heart that I take up my quill to write this book, for this was not the account I had hoped to write about the Gold Crusade.

Towards the end of the Year 203 of the 2nd Age, High King Torvar Stardust the IX stood atop his balcony at the assembly in Dawn Hammer, where I and the rest of the city gathered in the courtyard below, and proclaimed that we would retake our homes from the Goblins.

‘People of the Dwarven Kingdom heed my words, for this day will go down in our history until the end of time! Many of you must be wondering what words I could offer you on this day which would lead to such a story, but let me tell you that you will tell your children of this day, and they will tell their children, and they will tell theirs.

‘A thought occurred to me not too long ago, something which I found absurd to the point of insanity. There is not a single Dwarf alive in our kingdom who has put a single foot in Anvil, nor that has gone more than a month living outside of the gates. The tunnels which our Ancestors spent millennium upon millennium building long before the Dread Dawn are now the home of filthy, green vermin.

‘I say that enough is enough! I hereby proclaim to you all here today thus. I, High King Torvar Stardust, the 9th ruler of my name, declare that a mighty Crusade will be launched from Dawn Hammer to retake our homes from the Goblin scum and restore us to our former glory!’

A great cheer echoed throughout the courtyard, resounding across the entire city.

‘All those who wish to join the mighty legions that we will take into the tunnels, offer yourselves to the cause and know eternal glory and gratitude. To those of your paralysed with fear by our mortal enemies, too scared to face them in the tunnels, know this; I will not shame you. I will not encourage others to scrutinise you. Instead, I say this: when our Crusade is done, there will be nothing to terrify you in those deeps!’

The cheers from the crowd were louder this time.

‘Within the next few months, we will send hundreds of thousands of soldiers into our ancient homes, slay our foes and retake what is rightfully ours! This great Crusade shall forever be known as our greatest and final Crusade: The Gold Crusade!’

Our cries echoed for nearly an hour as the crowd partied, with the High King clearly revelling in the moment, soaking in our admiration, no doubt believing that he would be remembered as the greatest High King throughout history.

We would forever remember him, but not as he wanted us to.

I, like everyone else, cheered at his words, drunk on the beautiful notion of retaking our lost cities and restoring our kingdom to its former glory before the Dread Dawn. Three hundred thousand brave men answered the call, all the noble families in the cities provided their loyal soldiers to the cause, and everyone in the city felt a new wave of energy we hadn’t felt in centuries.

The smiths worked day and night to forge new armour and weapons, refusing to accept payment and believing that retaking the tunnels was more than enough of a reward. Farmers and shopkeeps chipped in what they could: food, blankets, water, wood, carts, cattle, rams, herbs, and potions. Those eager enough, both young and old, volunteered to join the Crusade and within six months they were ready to depart.

At the time, I had wished that I could go with them and have my name forever embodied on the Golden Tablet on the Wall, an honour which my descendants would look upon and be proud of.

Now, I am glad that I chose the life of a scholar over that of a soldier.

Despite my duties to the Archive, I still did my small bit when I could in preparing for the Crusade, helping load carts with supplies, taking forged weapons to the armoury and other odd bits here and there, for no reward other than satisfaction.

I had such a naïve dream of what I would do with my life when I was working those long and tiring hours.

I dreamt that I would write a glorious account of the Crusade, ‘The Great Reclamation’, or ‘The Golden Crusade: The Restoration of a Kingdom’, something along those lines, which would sit in the Archive and would be read by future generations of Dwarves who would read those pages and smile, thinking how much our land had changed since that time.

And here I am, writing a book on the Crusade as I had dreamt.

Yet, rather than writing fondly of it, I write with a crushing feeling of despair.

I hope at least this book will be passed down in the Archive and that future generations of Dwarves, both Kings and commoners, will read these pages and know that such a feat like the Gold Crusade should never, ever be attempted again.

High King Torvar took many scholars from the Archive with him on the Crusade to keep accurate and exact records of everything and anything that happened during the Crusade.

However, none of them, nor their records, ever returned.

Some of the Wisdom Keeper’s best and brightest students went on that damned expedition and he himself was one of the first to publicly strike out against the Stardusts after the survivors returned.

If we had their accounts, then we would know every single intricate detail of the Crusade, the number of soldiers killed in each battle, the days they marched and rested. Taigstun had also promised us that he would provide us with the official documents from the Crusade once it was won, so that they would be turned into a book to be held in the Star Palace.

Alas, the only accounts that I have access to are statements and reports taken from the survivors who were willing to, or able to, speak to me and the journal entries of Lord Dorvan Long-night, they were kindly lent to me by Sir Euwan, the only nobleman to make it back to Dawn Hammer.

We will never be able to properly document the darkest and most foolish venture the Dwarven people have ever undertaken.

May we never forget our greatest failure sold to us as our greatest success.