Argrave departed from Veiden, leaving Galamon behind to serve as intermediary when Dras and his council came to a decision about their request for naval support. Anneliese was still uneased, convinced she'd missed something about the scenario. Argrave didn't doubt her, but he also felt that the Veidimen were staunch allies that would not do their nation any harm. Veid herself was part of the Blackgard Union.

And on the matter of that union, they once again put together a collection of envoys that represented each god or goddess that had agreed to the defensive pact. They were a formidable group, but Argrave was receiving some disturbing reports from Elenore.

“They’re really quite undignified.” Elenore walked alongside through the gardens of the parliamentary hall, the rest of their group following shortly behind. “They’ve been behaving in such a way as though to overcompensate for the words that Anneliese gave them last time.”

“A negotiating tactic. I think I know who it is.” He kept a firm eye on the distant door where Elenore said the dwarves were staying. “But they’re also right to be confident. The dwarves have remained untouched underground for so long for good reason. They have a defensive system that most gods could not hope to penetrate. It’s why Mozzahr did not try and make converts of the dwarves. If he had been able to do that, I suspect we’d all be damned.”

Elenore looked somewhat surprised at the unrestrained praise, but she did not have time to press overmuch before Argrave walked up to the double doors leading to the dwarves’ chamber. He pushed them open, and from the sheer mess of the place, he could tell what Elenore meant by ‘undignified.’ Food had been brought to these envoys—food which messily sprawled about everywhere as though it were an unruly child’s playroom.

The dwarves in the room were twins. There were some differences between the two, but they were small enough they might as well be identical. Argrave knew them well—Kostis and Trifon. They were the among the most trusted members of the senate, largely because they possessed a large talent for one thing in particular: hostile negotiations. Extortion, provocation, and no fear of death—these were their talents. It said a lot about the dwarven senate’s intent, but also sparked confusion.

“Ahhh…” Kostis rose up off his chair, planting his small feet firmly on the ground. He was as brawny as his brother, but had a prominent mole on his clean-shaven face where a scar closely overlapped—Argrave knew he’d tried to cut the mole off when he was younger. He wiped his white toga down, clearing crumbs away. “The servants have returned. The food was inadequate, and I expect you will bring us better cuisine.”

“And drink. Don’t forget the drink. Better yet, bring us materials to make our own drink—it’s clear you inferiors have no clue how to brew properly.” Trifon’s voice was deeper, and he possessed more dignity than his oafish brother.

Argrave stepped inside the room, holding both of his arms wide like greeting old friends. “If it isn’t the most brothel-y pair of brothers I know!” He kicked a loaf of bread on the floor at them, and it slid until it hit one’s boot. “Ah, did I say brothel-y? I meant brotherly. Though considering how much time you two spend at brothels, you can forgive the mistake.”

These brothers were well known for having an answer out of their mouth to any insult in seconds, so Argrave savored the taste of outdoing these two bastards. They might’ve handled such an insult from their own kin, but they must’ve known he was the king, and they would never expect him to know even the lowliest gossip in the dwarven senate.

Still, if the dwarven senate sent these two, it meant one simple thing: they did not come here to cooperate. That was a baffling outcome, considering that Anneliese had sent forged dwarven metals back with them. Their people very desperately needed the capability to forge dwarven metal—that need was growing more urgent by the day.

Orion stepped forward from the group behind him as they all filtered in, watching their step so as not to crush the scattered food. “You speak to King Argrave, master of all Vasquer. As envoys, you enjoy our protection. Still, if you wish for respect, you should show it in turn.”

“Oh.” Trifon nodded knowingly, then looked to his brother. “Brother, this is the king.”

“Ah…” Kostis stroked his chin. “I expected more munificence. Magnificence. Instead, the man who should be grandiloquent spews fecal liquid from his lips where there should instead be saliva. Should you tell shit-lips the message, or shall I?”

“I shall begrudgingly surrender to his fecal fury and convey the message, brother,” Trifon bowed low, then reminded his brother, “But I am owed much upon our return. Ahem.” The dwarf cleared his throat as he stepped up to Argrave.

Argrave smiled at their antics, waiting and watching. That they had sent gold-wreathed envoys at all suggested there was still some hope. The messages were mixed, almost—contradictory.

Trifon pointed up at Argrave. “You, the fetid despot, have previously demanded we relinquish our exalted neutrality, cowering behind your titanic elven wife to deliver the message. We extended our hand to you in friendship, but this gesture of pity has been presumed as feebleness! Such sorry suppositions are not sooth, so says I! You may tremble in rage, towering tyrant, yet our infinite pity demands we give warning.” He clenched his fist. “If you should send armies against us, know this; you shall be consumed in the fires of the core.”

“It’s not fire, brother,” Kostis chided him. “It’s—”

“I know what it is. It’s a moat of magma.” Argrave crossed his arms. “You turned the biggest hindrance to proceeding deeper into the planet to your weapon. You command the molten rock of the underground. Even gods have a spot of trouble with magma.” Argrave stepped away. “They protect you from all manner of monsters, divine or otherwise. I don’t doubt that any invaders I might send would be burnt away by the magma of the planet’s core.”

Argrave stepped closer to them, kneeling down. “The feats of your ancestors have lasted a long, long while, enduring against hot magma. But as the time has passed, certain mechanisms have worn down. Eroded. If they aren’t repaired, you could lose entire cities to the molten rock.” He raised one hand up and gestured at them. “My queen offered you a gift—the gift to forge dwarven metals anew. I think that’s reason enough to suffer us.”

The necessity of repairing the dwarven city was how the player was granted access to the dwarven city as a non-dwarf in Heroes of Berendar. Now, Argrave hoped to use that method on a grander scale, earning his nation access.

He expected Trifon and Kostis both to switch from provocation to bartering, but instead Trifon stepped away, laughing. Argrave rose from where he knelt, and Anneliese came to stand by his side. The dwarves exaggeratedly clutched their stomachs and rolled on the floor, and their gold wreaths clattered to the tile. Argrave kept a cool face, but his Brumesingers poked their heads out and growled, betraying some of his annoyance. He was well prepared for their behavior, but even still he’d never heard a more annoying laughter. It was like it had been designed specifically to wear at his patience. Orion was similarly furious… but he bore it well, per Argrave’s instructions.

“Brother, brother…” Kostis stood over Trifon and shook him. “The king actually thinks he has the upper hand in this negotiation! He thinks that we need him!”

They laughed all over again like it was the funniest joke in the world. To distract himself, Argrave tried to delve deeper into the why of these two. It was one thing for the Dwarven Senate to refuse his request—it was another to send two people with express instructions to be utterly insufferable. After all, if the dwarves wanted to remain neutral… there was the simpler response of saying nothing at all. Then, Argrave would be forced to come to them. Once again, this contradictory behavior confused him.

“We don’t need your methods, silly little king. You see, we have a person of our own, and they’ve brought all the methods we could ever need. Fast methods, slow methods, perfect methods, imperfect methods. Well, maybe not the last one.” Trifon waved his hand like he was dismissing a servant. “No, no. The only bit of pity we have left for you… is that we will allow you to beg, and give it to us freely.”

Argrave could not deny that his vision grew a little white when he heard that the dwarves might already have the method. He looked at Anneliese, seeking some reprieve, but he could tell at once that she thought the dwarves were not lying. He didn’t think these provocateurs, even offensive as they were, could fool her empathy. Meaning… someone had played the role of the player, and brought the method to forge dwarven metal to their hands.

“What do you mean, allow us to beg?” Argrave looked down at them, keeping calm despite the fact he felt leverage slipping away from him. “Who’s discovered this method?”

“Ah, tut-tut,” Kostis wagged his thick finger. “There’s no more words to be shared. We dwarves don’t betray our allies—sad to say, that likely won’t be you.”

While Argrave’s mind searched for some hole in their words, Elenore stepped forward. “If that were true… if you truly had no need of us… your people wouldn’t have sent you here.” She studied them closely. “They would not have acquiesced to our requests in the slightest. No—your government did intend for a true negotiation to take place between us.”

“And why would it be a betrayal to disclose who has helped you?” Anneliese’s eyes were sharp as she interrogated them. “Would they not enjoy the fame, the recognition? And that you would call them a person instead of a dwarf…”

The dwarves were both without an answer, and Argrave saw them open their mouths and close it without a response.

“Indeed, you are awfully protective of this person.” Anneliese leaned up against the doorframe. “I wonder if there is more to this.”

“I wonder if your goal in coming here was simply to prevent us from talking with the Dwarven Senate in earnest. Who can say how this third party bribed you?” Elenore crossed her arms. “If we were to beg, and to surrender the method freely, would you even allow that? Or is there someone else who needs the credit?”

“This is an absurdity.” Trifon managed to catch his wind.

“I disagree.” Anneliese stopped leaning against the doorframe. “Rather, it is a certainty. I can see it writ on your face as plain as day. You’ve been bought by another to sabotage this.”

Argrave looked at the two of them. “How the hell did you work that out?” The question came off as a mocking joke just like the two dwarves had done, but he was genuinely baffled they figured it out.

“These two are merely not as good as they think they are.” Anneliese sounded annoyed, as though their mockery had gotten to her. “The question that remains… is how we might expose this corruption in the Dwarven Senate.”

Elenore walked close to the two of them. “Fortunately, there’s two of them. That gives us twice—nay, thousands more options to handle this.”