The Dwarf in Black

The dwarf in the black cloak rushed through dark alleys and down staircases. There was little time and much work to be done. Ashmace's miners were digging feverishly; they would breach the city soon.

Steps echoed from the checkpoint up ahead.

Pulling his hood low, the dwarf slipped into the shadows, waiting for the patrol to pass, then crept forward, heading into a maintenance shaft few knew about. From here on, the path would be clear. Clear to complete the mission.

And then?

Into the tunnels toward the Outer Layer? On to the outlands? The dwarf grimaced. The thought of leaving the mountains stirred deep resentment. There was strength down here. But what choice was there? General Teanna would not tolerate another betrayal, would send her warriors. Forgiveness was not a virtue she held dear.

And the empire? Ashmace would continue to take advantage, threatening blackmail while dangling redemption at an unattainable distance.

No, the outlands were the only option.

But at least this city, built on lies, would be destroyed, and vengeance delivered. At long last.

There was satisfaction in that.