The pounding of hammers echoed throughout the tunnels like it had a melody, such was the finesse of the dwarves when crafting anything that the task felt like it also made music. Orras always found it a most pleasing sound, whether when doing it himself, or even when mining for precious stones back in younger years. Not today, however. Today the music was corrupted by its purpose.

Ten exiled dwarves from the Rock Artists clan worked as hard and fast as they could to build everything Tol had requested of them. Parts for complex devices of human origin based on old digital files he had uncovered, and for which he refused to share their purpose. 

“They are not something you would understand,” Tol insisted when Orras pressured him for information. 

“You think your technology escapes me? Orras asked, feeling his vein swell. “If we can build it, we can understand it. I am a bloody artist and I don’t appreciate being condescended to!”

Tol turned his head away from his work only to smirk with full condescension at him, “Do you know what was the first tool in this world?” Orras didn’t answer but continued to glower at him.

Tol pointed with his left hand at the symbols in the back of his long coat, which showed four diamonds close together resembling a bigger one, with a single one of them lit up in light blue. “It was a stone. We picked up a rock and used it to kill. Then we used it to cut other rocks and make them sharper so we could kill better. Then we made arrows and armor and at some point, we stopped...we just...settled.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Humans didn’t,” Tol continued bitterly, ignoring Orras, “they kept on improving and building even after we lost interest in moving past the edge of a sword. They made guns, computers and so much more! We got stuck in the dark ages while they advanced into the light!”

“We had no need for any of that when we had magic,” Orras countered.

“Ah, yes, magic…the great stagnation. You know, most people forget just how closely matched we were during the war, even with our so-called superior power. At the height of their empire, their technology almost rivaled our magic, and for a while, it even looked like could have been lost. A few more decades of research and development on their end might have meant a very different outcome.”

“Yes, I can tell you’re a very big fan of a forgotten species we killed,” Orras said, his sarcasm dripping.

Tol stood in silence for a second, and the sound of metal hitting metal in the forge below took over again. Orras turned to look at the dark green couch on the side, where Liara sat, arms and legs crossed, looking at them through her mask like a statue. She had not said a word since they arrived, and it made Orras irritated.

Her people worked below with his, putting together what they crafted, and testing their new guns on a small firing range. They were getting pretty good with them, too. Orras hated to admit that Deadbone had assembled something even he couldn't have envisioned

“You think I don’t know what you lot are doing, but I see it, and that’s the only reason I'm helping you at all.”

Orras pulled out one of his few remaining pleasures from the big pocket in his blue coat, a perfectly preserved cigar. He had a private stash dating back a few centuries when the last of these were rolled on the islands to the north, one of his little treasures beneath the earth.

“You might live longer than us, but the Dwarves' memory is longer. We remember how it used to be for those humans you admire so much.”

Did you know for instance, how long they functioned around whaling?” Orras began, lighting his cigarette by tapping into the energy in the stone of his staff. “I mean, to the point that they build entire towns around that single purpose, to sustain their industry, and then practically overnight it died. Do you know why?”

“Of course,” Tol replied cooly. “They discovered better options like electricity, and petrol, and their civilization progressed. We didn’t even stop using horses until this century.” 

“Change sometimes comes out of need,” Orras agreed, puffing rings of smoke, which made him feel more in control of the conversation since it grated Tol. “Suddenly we all have this big metropolis on the outside world, too big to depend on animals, so what did we do? 

“We swallowed our pride and adopted the human cars so we could move through it, but retooled them to work with magic, so only the select few could use them.”

“You’re not suggesting we were better off with the horses,” Tol remarked.

“I’m saying we should have made it so everyone could drive a car.”

I can’t stand the two of you going on and on,” Liara moaned suddenly, reminding them of her presence. “You know what you are? You are crooks, mere criminals serving a greater good for once in your life. At best you may hope to be remembered for your contributions to this war.

“Oh, you think you are any better?” Orras laughed.

“I am the Revolution of this kingdom,” Liara answered, standing up, and you could feel the energy in the room change. “I represent the people it has forgotten and I will lead them to take it back.”

Please, you’re no different,” Orras barked. “You’ve been fighting dirty since you started, and yes, I made it easier for you, but you still bloodied your fists by choice.”

In a second Orras was lifted off the ground, and felt the right pressure of Liara’s hand around his neck. She held him at eye level as she peered into his eyes through the glass of her mask so he could see the angry veins in her unblinking stare.

“They could always be more bloodied,” Liara answered, her voice cold in fury, and she shoved him against the glass to see her Shards helping to assemble the weapons and machines they were building.

“No one cared about any of them until I did, and don’t fool yourself into thinking the good you're doing now is anything other than self-serving. You want power, I want freedom…we are not the same.”

Liara dropped him on the ground, and he glowered at her, tempted to summon the energy in his staff to show her the meaning of power. But he swallowed it, another injustice suffered, but Orras knew it was always better to wait for the right moments. Hers would come. 

“How long before the devices are ready?” Liara asked, turning her attention to Tol.

“Oh, a few hours if the dwarves work fast enough. Then it’ll be up to you Shards to set them up in the right points, shouldn't take too long.”

“We’ll be ready when she comes.”

“Oh, yes, never fear,” Tol agreed.

Orras eyed them with displeasure and decided to leave his own office. They can bloody have it, he thought and cursed them all. 

He trotted down to the floor, passing the hardworking dwarves on their workstations, who nodded respectfully as he passed them, about the only ones who still showed him any deference. Orras felt increasingly frustrated with his new allies and felt more and more like a simple piece on the chessboard. Perhaps still notable enough to be a Rook, but not the King. 

That pale bastard wants that title, Orras thought, seething. Deadbone might have assumed he would simply fall in line and be happy to just be a piece in play, but his ambitions had always been loftier. He would not settle, not when he could get a better deal.

He spotted a dwarf from his inner circle and motioned to him to join by the furnace, the heat it gave off was infernal, but nothing to a born-and-bred craftsman like him.

“Boss?” he asked, approaching.

“I want you to put the word out for me, discreetly, “Orras added, softly. 

“What’s the message?”

“I want Sherr’Yand’Rull watched at all times, make sure we know if something happens to her, and I suspect something will.”

“Boss, are you sure that’s wi-?”

The man fell silent at Orras’ glare instantly, “Don’t ever question me, I get enough of that from them.”

“But aren’t we working with…them?”

“More like for at this point,” Orras said angrily. “They’ll be ready to make their move soon, and I’m worried it might work.”

“Isn’t that what we want?”

“Not if they’re on top when it’s over.”