The Lady Penitent

XV. Dhir Daral

"Such tall walls for such short people. Who would have thought?" Vladan said, looking up at the massive fortifications that marked the entrance to Dhir Daral. An impromptu trade city had formed around the outside of the walls, some buildings timber but many more just tents. Traders who spoke dozens of different languages hawked wares and haggled endlessly. It was such a mix of races that the small group didn't stand out for once, though no one watching seemed quite certain of what to make of Vladan. They were far from the only warriors: caravan guards and mercenaries were moving through the area constantly, following the great east-west highway that passed by Dhir Daral known as the Long Walk. If one craned a neck and looked upward, the dwarven watchtowers could be seen. The fortifications were the only indications that there was even a city constructed here. It was all built beneath the mountain.

Ardashir was doing his best to shoo off the pack of grimy children they'd acquired who were both trying to sell them everything—including each other—and rifle through the strangers' pockets. Khagra had warned them beforehand to expect this, so Holland had hidden her coin in her saddlebag rather than carrying it on her person. The hooded knight was a soft-hearted man, however, and so he wasn't quite firm enough. It took Vladan's intervention to get them away.

Khagra laughed, finding Ardashir as amusing as always. The hooded knight was still uncomfortable around her, which she seemed to find entertaining rather than insulting. The orc had agreed to join them in their hopefully subterranean endeavor despite her low opinion of dwarves, and so Zajar was waiting for them some distance away. The horses passed without comment, thankfully. The orc sauntered more than walked, her spear resting against her shoulder. They were a well-armed group, so no one seemed inclined to give them trouble. "So what's your plan for getting in, Holland?" Khagra asked, looking over at their unofficial leader. Holland had settled into the role without too much complaint, though sometimes it concerned her a little bit that the other three had such faith in her.

"I have no idea," Holland admitted. "I thought we would go see the gates and decide from there."

"Find a big shipment of spirits and ride in with that?" Vladan said with a grin.

"Could work," Khagra murmured. "Though I doubt they'd take us seriously. I imagine they're used to idiots trying to get inside."

"Undoubtedly," the penitent said as she led the way through the crowds. There was a long line of people waiting to speak with two massive guards. They were shaped roughly like men, but made of stone and metal that had become corroded over time. Golems. Holland had heard of them, but never seen them. They were remnants of the First World, simulacrums of demons with rudimentary minds of their own bound to the will of the descendants of the cunning artificers who had crafted them: dwarves. Each one stood about ten feet tall and their voices were dull and inflectionless as they turned people away.

"I guess we're not going to be forcing our way in," Ardashir said, eyes widening.

"Still could," Vladan said. He sounded hopeful that it would still come to combat.

Holland watched as the golems turned away petitioner after petitioner, allowing the small group closer and closer to the front of the line. She was going to have to come up with something, the sooner the better. She realized they were all looking at her. "Shall we tell them that we are from Yssa?" Ardashir asked in hushed tones.

"I would not recommend it. The kings of men have overreached themselves into northern territory before. It will not endear us to them," Khagra said.

"The gate was made to withstand siege equipment and armies," Vladan observed. "Perhaps with a sufficient number of mages and an ample supply of living sources we could blow our way past it, but that would be difficult and cost many bodies."