An Era of Turmoil

The twenty-five hundred Dwarves of New Capua prepared feverishly for the upcoming winter; the warmth and comfort provided by Vulc, the Godess of volcanics, was exploited unabashedly by circulating systems of heated water, keeping the fortress at a comfortable temperature. Due to the magic circulation of the air--an utter necessity so far underground, lest New Capua suffocate--the entrances bore no ice or snow. Below ground, DWarves worked the new Greenpit Farming initiatives, which--as they were heated by circulating water--could avoid the frost and produce surface crops all year round, obtaining sunlight through the thick quartz window above them.

Not all, however, was well. The winter, Tolemy could detect, was magically enhanced somehow, well beyond normal levels. The sea ice had frozen in the port of Eclipse, cutting off trade; the rivers were frozen with even more of a vengeance, which meant that the colonial water supply was cut off.

Naturally, this was the one problem nobody had thought about.

Rationing was the only solution, which meant no more public baths, no more large, decadent gardens, and certainly no more Great Hall waterfall. Growing crops could proceed for a time, but emergency measures--such as attempts to heat the river--would be necessary if the winter was long.

As sentimental--and ale-addled--Dwarves lamented the loss of civic beauty, Markus stewed below in the Conclave chambers. This was indicative of a larger problem in design; New Capua was fed by one enormous river, but this river, when cut off, forced the city into rationing. It was unthinkable, it was unacceptable, it was reality.

On the foreign front, Markus looked towards the North; Anumias had underground springs, did it not? Provided his diplomats had not been of stellar incompetence, he could be reasonably certain they had water to spare. But what would the Empire's problems be? Perhaps they would be willing to receive some of Capua's more advanced engineering tricks in exchange for sharing a basic necessity. An alliance would solidify this pact, alongside ever-growing trade links. Perhaps it was time to get by on a little gratitude from old Xalerion--certainly not without fair trade, but a little diplomatic slickness never hurt anyone.

Plans went forward for a water pipeline between the two cities, to have complex system for raising it to the level of the reservoirs; in return, magma could be dumped onto the Anumian doorstep for whatever they would use it for. Probably smelting mystical ores or something or other, which New Capua could then buy. The plan, Operation Rocks for Water, was put into motion.

A messenger arrived at Citel Rhun the next week discussing the plan, with many compliments at the ready.

With another emergency avenue for water now established, teams of Dwarves began extracting large blocks of water from the rivers and melting them, in order to preserve the reservoirs. The water situation would likely be tight, but much more survivable.

Another problem with the fortress setup was the overabundance of free time; free time which would lead to mass cabin fever if left unchecked. There were three good solutions to this: mining, entertainment, and ale, with a severe emphasis on the last.

Plans were formed to extend mining shafts as far as possible--down, simply to see what was down there. Of course, the easily visible ulterior motive was wealth--Anumias would certainly pay for minerals, and even more than this, the workshops were hungry. It'd also open up space for the colonists that would no doubt arrive when the land was not a freezing wasteland--they hoped. Besides, if nobody occupied it, it wasn't like it couldn't simply be discarded until someone did.

To occupy off hours, events were scheduled for every day--with a particularly involved one, say a concert or play--every week. Plans went forth for a true Amphitheatre to accommodate these performances, but for now, the Great Hall served just as well. The Order of Good Cheer went forward, saving the Dwarves from social turmoil.

Xalerion stood upon the top battlemen of his Palace. He could see all around him, the mountains of other parts of the land were scattered around his own land. He truly was standing upon the highest peak. His royal robe fluttered about in a sudden chill wind high in the mountains. Looking down, far toward the ocean, Xalerion saw something so unusual, he walked forward, leaning over the parapet.

A Royal Guard, gilded in silver plate armor, surprised by Xalerions actions, moved toward him in case he were to be caught in a breeze.

"My Lord, what is the matter?" The Guard asked cautiously.

"Look... look there! What fell wizardry is this? Or are mine eyes deceiving me, for I seem to be seeing nothing but white in the far horizon." Xalerion said, grasping the hem of the Royal Guards silken cape.

"Nay,... I see it too."


A thick white sheet, as if a veil were being thrown over the land itself was approaching the land. With its approach came a fell chill... so deep and cold that Xalerion could feel its piercing touch beneath his thick robes. He started to back away from the wall and toward the Palace.

Winter was approaching... it would be in the magnitude that no other had ever experienced. Preparation for winter had only begun, and even if they were complete, Xalerion doubted that they would be sufficient enough. He and his Guard went into the palace and shut the intricate glass doors onto the private battlement. Xalerion drew the green and golden curtains over the windows. Xalerion sat in his high throne, utterly disturbed by what he experienced.

Rhunland had never experienced a cold such as that before... he had a bad feeling. He started to command at that point, all of his military, domestic and national alike, into mass preparations for this deep chill. He sent messengers into the forests, on a task to link up with their ally, New Capua. No doubt they would have already had a feeling of what was coming, but just in case...

The military started to help patch up broken roofs on homes, set up public areas where the poor could find refuge for the winter, and ordered the extra supply of crops and food to be stored. All ships and vessels in the water were drawn out and stored in warehouses or simply on the shoreline.

The last of the fishing vessels came back to port with odd news. The fishermen found that the rivers flowing in land were void of fish... but what was odder, was that so was the stretch of ocean that they used. The news came to Xalerion himself, who had been overseeing the construction of the causeway into New Capua. As he made his way to the shore, he put his hand into the water. He felt himself yelp in terror as he drew his hand from the water. It was cold enough that he felt as though his skin was burning. He touched the hand he lay in the water.. it was completely numb.

The Imperial Guards that were with him huddled close to him, trying to help him. Xalerion, still crouched over the shore looked up and looked down to the sea. He told his men to be quiet. He heard a strange noise. A cracking sound... slowly getting louder approached, seemingly from out in the sea. He rose to his feet and watched the water. It was not moving anymore...

The cracking grew louder. Xalerion, in horror knew exactly what it was now. What should have been impossible was now reality. He watched in disbelief as the water grew white and solid. The ocean itself was slowly freezing over.

The storm took New Capua totally by surprise. As the gongs began rining, urging all citizens to come inside at once, the gatehouses prepared to lock the fortress up tight; every door would be closed and the Dwarves would wait out the storm inside their rocky home.

"Erika, is that everyone?" Markus shouted to his most trusted assistant as the end of a shivering group of outside workers streamed in. "There were the first and second timber operations, and..."

Erika spoke up. "That's all," she said, as the gongs rung an all-clear. She turned to the gatehouse. "Captain, lock us in!"

The soldier at the gate controls complied as he and his staff cranked the metal doors shut. As they closed, a gust of wind was cut off, and a puff of cold air was its last remnant inside of the fortress. Two thousand Dwarves now stood huddling inside.

A half-frozen diplomat from Anumias stumbled in after the watch noticed him outside. As he was treated to hot water and some mushrooms for his trouble, his lightly frostbitten hand opened to reveal a proposal from the Emperor Xalerion.

It detailed a simple but desperate plan. The fall harvest had been ruined by this terrible storm, no doubt; and so New Capua's extensive supply of crops was required, perhaps on pain of extinction for Anumias. In return, meat. Was it necessary? Not entirely. But there was perhaps no better way to gain a friend and ally on this island than saving their sorry hides, and this would help later on, no doubt.

"I shall send a messenger in your stead," Markus told the Anumian, "as you recover here from your ordeal. Your deal is accepted; the lives of our northern friends are important to us."

The relief on the man's face was hardly concealable.

Tarn was tired, he had done much in the past months and now as winter approached he began to wonder if Eleseria would survive it. Now he resided in the finished tower of the keep, from his room he could see the blooming city covered in a sheet snow, and if he looked to the east he could see the smoke rising from his new ally, the human town of Ancir. Ancir had only been around for little under a month and Tarn hadn't seen a supply ship arrive there for two weeks, which was longer then usual because they normally came once a week, this had put fear in Tarn and he had ordered all the boats to stay docked. At that moment came a knock on the door

''Enter.'' Tarn said

His High Commander, Felnorn, entered the room

''Orcs have been sighted to the northwest and are lookouts have found what seems to be a shipwreck, we believe it is the supply vessel that was bound for Ancir.''

''Thank you Felnorn, order the men to salvage what hey can and bring it to the governor of Ancir, dismissed.''

Felnorn left and did as he was ordered, Tarn returned to writing in his journal. This would be a long winter.

News soon came to Xalerion of the recent link with New Capua via a messenger, in the form of another half frozen dwarf messenger. Before the message was given to Xalerion himself, the dwarf was brought up to Citel Rhun in a horse and buggy. Once within the Imperial Palace, the dwarf was tended to as if he were royalty himself. He was given a warm bath, a meal, and time to rest in once of the giant guest bedrooms.

As a ambassador or spokesperson of Anumias' close ally, they should be treated very well indeed. After half a day of rest, the dwarf relayed his message back to Xalerion within the throne room. Xalerion leaned back in his throne, letting the tensity drain from him. He was thankful that New Capua agreed to their desperate proposal. After all, Anumias' extra crops could only be stored for so long until they had to be used to sustain life.

Xalerion got up from his throne and gave the dwarf a new message to bring back to New Capua, more or less in thanks and completion of their transactions. As he went toward the main gates, which were slowly opened by the Royal Guards, a frigid blast of cold air and snow burst into the Main Hall. Snow had finally started to fall, and lots of it. It was coming down in sheets, and he had no idea for how long this would last. Xalerion bundled up and walked outside into the freezing cold, looking over the outside parapet down into Citel Rhun. The grass that was there not an hour age, was completely covered with white.

He walked back into his palace and looked to the dwarf and shook his head. With a nod of his head, the shivering Royal Guards closed the gates to the palace shut and locked them up, sealing the valued warm air within.

"I am sorry, but I cannot in good conscience send you off to New Capua in this storm. It would likely be the death of you. Please, stay here in the palace... at least until the underground causeway is completed." Xalerion asked the dwarf in fluent Capuan.

As the Dwarf accepted this invitation with plenty of gratitude, his homeland worked feverishly to complete the causeway. It was dangerous digging through the mountain, but the river worked in their favour once more; a channel of soil was prevalent around it and for a fair distance below, rather than sheer rock, making the progress far easier.

The causeway would have the time for artistry later. For now it would be a simple, if large, tunnel, held up by wooden bracings. Crude by their standards, but practical, and that is what mattered. With digging commencing on both ends, it would likely require much of the season or longer to build, but the magic of Dwarves would aid them. The mining force was one and a half times as large as before the winter.

As the month went by Tarn sent supplies to the people of Ancir. It was now four weeks since a supply ship was seen, any longer and both Ancir and Eleseria would be in trouble. Tarn knew he couldn't supply the small town all winter and that disturbed him, he could choose between risking the lives of his people or the certain death of some humans. He didn't think about that often as he hoped to avoid making that choice. Three days later his lookouts spotted three ships with the banner of Ancir's homeland, he was relieved that help had finally arrived. Tarn then sent a messenger to Ancir to inform them of this, after the messenger returned he cut the supply trains to Ancir. Eight days later he received word that the ships never made it to Ancir, at once supplies were dispatched to Ancir but the cart drivers returned saying the pass through the cliffs was blocked off by snow. Tarn shut himself in his quarters and watched as another storm hit Eleseria.

Cheklistav had been hit the hardest of the 3 cities - with their only water supply solid as ice, they were forced into rationing what was left. Deitmar worried of how the small colony would still survive, they had the lumber to create fires, but how much longer could these flames comfort or warm the residents? Even if they could survive the winter, Cabin fever would surely divide the settlers. He glanced over to his other 4 council members, divided evenly between him, making a triangular figure.

He looked down on the great fire below him, in front of his desk that he sat in. The crackle of the fire soothed him, as well most of the colony. Suddenly, a concerned Dwarf arose from his seat in spite of solving this problem. "Why have we not discussed trading relations with Anumias and New Capua? They have what we require and most likely we may have goods of our own to trade!" the meeting house quickly went into an uproar with the sound of arguing and agreements.

Deitmar winced, annoyed by such disorder; slamming down his great hammer that was supplied to him for the meeting house and hollering "Enough!" The meeting house fell silent as his voice echoed throughout the room. "We will send messengers to New Capua and Anumias to establish trade routes!" Suddenly, two young, seemingly disciplined dwarves rouse their hands, immediatly shouting "We'll be the messengers!"

Deitmar sighed, the eager souls had no idea what they were getting into, he hoped that they may survive. "Who agrees to send these 2 fellows out to send the messages?" almost every hand in the room raised in unison. "Very well, we shall begin writing the messages. Khoas and Ahkle, sleep well, eat well, and ensure to bring all the rations and supplies you'll need, for you two will be sent off two days from now. I hope you two are ready for what lies ahead.... Dismissed!" The dwarves rouse from their seats and walked out of the room, hurrying to their homes. "Council, I fear I may of made a mistake in who I choose. What say you?" his fellow members were currently dousing the flame, carrying the wood into the corner just in case it could be reused. "We agree with your decision, Khaos and Ahkle are two of our finest soldiers; hearts of gold and muscles of steel. They'll do fine, do not worry."

As the last five closed the doors to the meeting house, he could see another storm overhead, about ready to rain down upon the new village. When he looked back to his colleagues, they had already split up, returning to their own families and homes. Alone, he strode to his house.

Dwarven safety protocols underground were legendary, but they received a major setback at the River Neopolt when it was realized that the Causeway would need to have special bracing due to the unique geological characteristics of the area; were it not for the observations of the mining peon Arcu Faneri, the entire causeway may have been flooded at first melt. Accordingly, he was placed as a safety monitor rather than as a mere digger.

Further back, the Capuans were mostly safe; in their mountain home, the storm could not reach them. Disease was a major enemy, however, and severe infections did claim the lives of ten Dwarves over the winter thus far; the diligent work of Tolemy and his staff, however, kept the blight from becoming too severe.

The causeway construction caused several injuries, as in most mining; unpredictably falling rocks smashed the leg of one Dwarf, who would become the host of New Capua's first pegleg; several other crushed limbs resulted from this cave-in, along with many hundreds of minor cuts and bruises. Regardless, they carried on, and quickly broke through the barrier to cheers from the other side. The Causeway was now opened, allowing much-needed trade and supplies to flow between the cities of the newly founded Winter Pact.

From further north arrived Khaos and Ahkle, who had amazingly survived their journey south. They were allowed in and met with a team of Redshields at the gates.

"What is your business here?" the Captain asked. "You do not appear to be Capuans."

Capuan horses, rode by Redshields, guarded a curious, covered flatbed on rolling wheels; as it approached, the Anumians stopped what they were doing and simply watched it roll by. It approached the center of Citel Rhun, to quizzical looks and general bewilderment, though the guards of Anumias took no action--this had been arranged earlier.

The cloth was removed, revealing an impeccable silver statue; a tall Man and stout Dwarf, struggling together against the winter winds, prevailing under a single shared banner--the Hammer and Sickle on the left and Rising Sun on the right. On one side was engraved an inscription in both Anumian and Latin:

TO PEACE BETWEEN NATIONS, TO PROSPERITY AND COOPERATION... FOR A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED.

On the remaining three sides, in bare stone, were engraved the musings of citizens of New Capua. The highest peak and deepest mining halls. Let no Man starve. The Winter Pact was born, with a military aliance, pledge to mutual aid, and an affirmation of friendship between nations.

Anumians, civilians and guards alike crowded around the statue, admiring the great workmanship and design. Many started to cheer, shaking hands with the dwarves who wheeled it into the Capital City. The nations were rejoicing, as a time of great struggle had ended. The grand statue symbolized both nations efforts against a foe greater than any other. Not even mother nature could break their bond now. Celebration were in store, of course for both nations.

The ambassador, surrounded by five Rhunlandish guards of pure silver armor, moved toward the statue. To the civilians bewhilderment, they spat next to the statue with hateful glares. They left the place and started to move toward the great winding path that lead to the highest peak of the land, harboring the Imperial Palace. Anumian guards and civilians alike gave the visitors hostile glares as they left.

Upon the Ambassador's arrival at the Palace, the Imperial Guards opened the gates and allowed them in. Xalerion stood at the foot of the steps inside the Great Hall with his hands outward in welcome. He bowed in the Anumian and Rhunlandish custom. The Ambassador did the same, and both walked to the throne two floors above. Xalerion spoke to the man in fluent Rhunlandish, which he rarely ever used anymore. The Ambassador and he spoke for a long while of many things. They both wanted to know how their lands were faring. Upon hearing of the horrid winter and its death tolls on the Anumians, the Ambassador was surprised.

Soon however, the discussion shifted toward why the Ambassador had traveled so far to the new land. He spoke:

"My Lord Xalerion, I have been sent by the Emperor of Rhunland to... check the progression of our takeover of this land. How fares thee?" The Ambassador asked.

Xalerion looked piercingly into the Ambassadors eyes. He knew that the man already knew that the old plan was no longer existing. Xalerion feigned a small smile and looked to the giant window overlooking the sea. He got up from his great throne and walked over to the window and sighed.

"I think you know the answer to that question. I will be quite blunt, sir Ambassador. I know longer wish to take this entire land for the sake of Rhundlandish Imperialism. You see... it no longer will benefit myself, nor my Anumian people."

The Ambassadors stare grew cold as he looked at Xalerion standing silhouetted by the sun at the window. Xalerion slowly turned around and faced the Ambassador, his eyes seemed to pierce into the Ambassadors very soul.

"What are you saying, Xalerion?" The Ambassador asked with a shaking voice, either of wrath or terror, Xalerion could not tell.

"I am saying, henceforth, Anumias in independent from our homeland. I am the Emperor of this land, and that is my declaration." Xalerion half said half shouted to the horrified man.

"You are making a horrible mistake, Sire... Rhunland will hear of this, and your Empire will fall! Your head will be mounted upon the Stake of Rhunland!" The Ambassador said with a hint of venom.

"As long as I stand upon the highest peak, what you state is impossible." Xalerion said with a malevolent grin. "The pox to Rhunland... the pox to the Emperor..."

Xalerion slowly drew his Dark Ore longsword and approached the Ambassador with a terrible grin, a grin of retribution. The Rhunlandish Guards around the man lowered their spears at Xalerion as he approached. With the snap of Xalerions fingers, the gates into the Throne Room were shut by three Imperial Guards. The Imperial Guards lowered their own pikes and approached the Rhunlandish Guards.

Before the Rhunlandish Guards had a chance to react, the Imperial Guards stabbed them through the armor and left all but one of them on the ground in a pool of blood. The Ambassador fell to the ground and backed into the wall, utterly terrified. Xalerion gave a grin as he stood before him, and then, with once slash of his blade, he beheaded the Ambassador. The lone Rhunlandish Guard fell to the ground, horrified. Xalerion walked to the side of his throne and retrieved a box. Grabbing the severed head by the hair, he placed the head into the box and closed the lid. He handed the box to the Rhunlandish Guard and gave him a smirk.

"Take this to the good Emperor as an answer to his proposition."

The Rhunlandish Guard ran out of the Palace, eyes wide with silent terror, holding the box as far from his body as he could. As he got to his ship, he told the crew to push off back to Rhunland in haste. His voice shook as he looked back, far up to the Palace, he saw Xalerion watching coldly from the large window at the very top.

The ship left that day, as fast as it could across the sea. Xalerion stood in his Throne Room. He looked scornfully at the dead soldiers who lay on the great marble floor. His guards nodded and silently dragged the bodies out and mopped the floors clean of the blood. The dead were burned outside of the nation and the ashes thrown into the sea. Xalerion sat on his thrown later that day in thoughtful silence.

"And thus the Anumian Revolution begins." He thought.

only a day later, the horrid news was released to the public by Xalerion himself. The public was shocked, and yet strangely excited for it. They were finally going to be an independent country, free from the long lasting tyranny from the homeland. No more high taxes to the Rhunlandish Crown. They would finally be free. That day, his citizens praised Xalerion's name.

An emergency meeting of the Conclave was undertaken the moment the news reached New Capuan ears--mere hours after the event had occurred, due to the presence of Fort Ironboot near Anumian territory. Markus sat at the head of the table, with his three advisors close at hand. Above them, the Great Hall, through a quartz window, with the Basic Code towering over them. No narrow, parochial viewpoint could survive in such a setting.

"A revolution? A declaration of independence?" Markus asked the messenger who was present. The man nodded, and was sent away.

Leon began to speak. "I recommend we assist our allies, even against Rhunland," he said aloud. "the Legions are ready to march as soon as the order is given."

Tolemy stirred for a moment, and with an old and wise voice mentioned his solemn agreement. Erika followed.

"Very well," Markus said. "We march to aid our former ally."

This move had several consequences. Aiding the revolution meant war with Rhunland; Rume would not care, as she was in too much disarray to care about her colonies. What this meant was that Capua could be invaded. As such, the alert was sounded: all citizens were to take up martial pursuits, further units were to be raised, and finally, Redshields would march into Anumias to aid their struggle.

It was a sound action, as well; Rhunish presence on the island may very well have meant the occupation and subjugation of everyone on it, including the Capuans. Stubbornness would not allow this.

Xalerion stood upon his personal battlement and looked fleetingly at the ocean far to the horizon. He knew that it would only take a month for a full invasion force from Rhunland to appear in his bay. Usually, for foreign invasions, Rhunland had an odd habit of only sending about 4,000 soldiers... very large of course, but they would send no more. This could probably be because Rhunland had never failed to claim total victory in a war. Xalerion thought of this fact, and scratched the back of his head, contemplating what he should do.

He had, before coming to this new land, been a high General within the Rhunlandish Army. He knew how they fought, he knew that they would not give up once in battle... and he knew that their force was trained to be the very elite. He tried not to think about this, and so looked around his own lands. He could see people walking, as small as ants from where he was, yet those ants, thousands of them, had to be protected from the largest Empire in the world.

He could see his own soldier preparing to create coastal defenses. Wall were started, parapets and battlements began to take form. Arrow and ballista towers were erected. The battlements had their own Trebuchet's aimed toward the Anumian Bay. This made a grand total of twenty Trebuchets, 25 Ballistae, and the military itself.

Xalerion looked over to the archway leading into the Causeway, there seemed to be a lot of commotion of there. Looking closely, he could see dwarves.. many dwarves, gilded in armor with red shields come marching through. Xalerions eyes grew wide, he ran down to the Great Hall and down into Citel Rhun. As he ran down the left snaking path toward the lower lands beneath the mountain, he came upon the Causeway. The red shield dwarfs stood there along with many Anumian guards and civilians.

"What is this? What brings Capuan soldiers to my cities?" Xalerion asked in fluent Capuan, a bit surprised.

A captain stepped forward, on his back the Phoenix-standard of the Republican Army. The armour of Dwarves was thick and well-made, covering their torso, heads, and legs in segmented plates; their helmets obscured their faces, making each a member of a larger whole. The helmets of most legionaries were plain, but the First Cohort bore phoenix-feathers. In each man's left hand he held a bladed steel mace, and attached to his right arm was a wide, rectangular shield bearing a hammer and sickle. The Redshields were arranged in perfect parade order, though they looked ready to launch into battle at any moment. The captain saluted and began speaking.

"I am Captain Edric Vasari of the Republican Army. We arrive to assist in the Anumian defence against the Rhunish invasion," he said with the utmost formality. "I bear a declaration from the Magistrate: that we are to prevent the fall of Anumias by any means necessary."