The Black Tower stood deep within Undercity’s heart, carved from stone that had never seen the sun. Dust still clung to every corners where dwarven craftsmen had worked only days ago, shaping the bleak hall into something approaching respectability.
David’s gaze fell on the new support columns—functional yet refined, mimicking surface architecture while preserving the practicality that defined everything built by dwarves.
Functional yet refined.
It might as well have been the slogan of the new Undercity. And truth be told, he couldn’t have been prouder of how far they had all come.
Which only made today’s meeting all the harder for him. His eyes drifted across the hall, taking in its inhabitants.
The Elders had gathered in rarely seen numbers.
Elder Rat hunched over his ledgers, fingers stained with ink from endless calculations. Beside him, Elder Monkey leaned forward, head tilted, eyes distant—already three steps ahead of a conversation that hadn’t even begun.
Elder Boar’s massive frame made his chair groan with every shift, while Elder Horse’s fingers tapped against the table in the steady rhythm of a forge hammer.
Elder Sheep had taken a seat near the door, ever ready to respond to emergencies. Her people had been stretched thin lately, tending to construction mishaps and the occasional outbreak of violence in the city’s rougher quarters.
Elder Dragon lounged in his chair with practiced indifference, though his sharp eyes missed nothing. Elder Tiger sat rigid beside him, muscles tense beneath scarred skin.
Finally, Elder Rabbit perched on a cushion she’d dragged onto her seat, knees drawn to her chest. Her violet eyes never left David’s face. Her intensity was something he had long since learned to ignore.
Eight out of twelve. An impressive turnout, considering how busy everyone was these days.
Aside from the Elders, Soria was present, as always. The young woman stood behind an empty chair, tablet in hand: ever the administrator. The fur along her neck and her catlike ears caught the lamplight as she moved, a reminder of her heritage that she now wore with pride.
The dwarven forgemaster, Hilda Silveraxe, occupied a reinforced bench that groaned beneath the weight of the armor she never removed. Beside her, Nadia Wellenrufer appeared delicate by comparison, though David knew better than to mistake that for weakness. Water mages rarely looked dangerous… until they were drowning you.
It was good that they had both come. The two Archmages had grown well into their roles and had become pillars for the city to lean on.
“Construction proceeds ahead of schedule,” Soria began, her voice carrying the calm confidence of someone who had grown used to delivering good news. “The eastern district’s foundation work completes tomorrow. The dwarven masters report their students have exceeded expectations.”
“Course they have,” Hilda grunted. “The lads here aren’t as soft as me folk back home. They wouldn’t waste a chance to learn an honest trade.”
More numbers followed—statistics about ore shipments, food distribution, and the careful integration of surface trade they had spent months negotiating. Each figure represented countless late nights and hundreds of delicate discussions with merchants who still viewed Undercity as a den of monsters rather than a market opportunity.
David let them talk, let them paint their picture of progress and possibility. Better to give them this moment before he damped the mood.
“The western expansion requires approval,” Elder Monkey said, sliding a proposal across the table. “If we’re to accommodate the new workshops—”
“Approve it.”
They all turned to look at him. Something in his tone, perhaps. Or maybe they had simply grown too familiar with his moods.
“…Actually,” David continued, keeping his voice level, “approve everything currently pending. Accelerate all timelines.”
Elder Rat’s whiskers twitched. “That will strain our resources.”
“Then strain them,” David said. “The city needs to be able to stand on its own.”
Silence settled over the chamber. Not comfortable, not confused. It was the kind of silence that came just before understanding, when clever minds realized something had changed but hadn’t yet grasped what.
Elder Monkey was the first to see it. His hairy fingers stilled on the glass he’d been rotating. “You’re leaving.”
Not a question. David inclined his head slightly, acknowledgment without admission.
“The Master has need of you?” Soria’s voice carried no surprise, only that familiar spark of excitement whenever Ezekiel was mentioned—and that irritating way she always referred to him.
“He is not your Master,” David said evenly. “But yes. The household has recalled all available assets. Including myself.”
“Does that mean what I think it does?” Elder Monkey asked, his large eyes widening slightly.
David nodded. “War.”
The word landed like a stone in still water, ripples spreading through the chamber. War meant different things to different people: opportunity for some, catastrophe for others. But to those gathered here, who had survived Undercity’s darkest years, it meant only another test of endurance.
“We need you here,” Elder Horse rumbled. The burly chimeroi rarely spoke, but when he did, his words carried weight. “The reconstruction—”
“…Will continue without me.”
“The surface contacts—”
“…Have been thoroughly documented. Soria can maintain them.”
“The shadow network—”
“…Will be placed under Rabbit’s control.”
Each objection met the same calm, prepared response. David had spent three sleepless nights anticipating every argument and preparing solutions that left no room for debate. No matter his personal feelings, he would not refuse the summons. That simple truth underpinned everything else.
But that didn’t mean he was willing to leave Undercity without ensuring they could stand on their own.
Elder Rabbit shot to her feet, her cushion tumbling to the floor. “I’ll come with you.”
The words burst out as if she’d been holding them back by sheer force of will and finally lost the battle. Her violet eyes blazed with determination that would have been admirable, if it weren’t so utterly inappropriate.
“No.”
One word, delivered with enough force that the shadows themselves recoiled. Rabbit flinched but stood her ground, chin high with the same defiance that had once made her a gang leader.
“I will be useful. My control of the shadows is second only to yours,” she said.
“Which is exactly why you’re staying.” David let his tone soften slightly. “With me gone, you and your people become the city’s eyes and ears. The council cannot afford to lose both of us.”
Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again before the objection died unspoken. Smart enough to recognize an immovable decision, then. Good.
“I’ll go.”
Every head turned toward the voice.
Elder Dragon.
The scaled chimeroi examined his claws with affected boredom, as if he hadn’t just volunteered to follow the man he once wanted dead into a foreign war.
David’s eyes narrowed. Of all the Elders, Dragon had been the most resistant to Ezekiel’s plans. His faction clung to the old Undercity, where strength ruled and chaos reigned.
“You…” David said slowly, “want to join us?”
Elder Dragon’s lips pulled back, revealing teeth that belonged in a nightmare. “Problem with that, human?”
Before David could answer, Elder Tiger straightened in her chair. “I’m coming too.”
Monkey shot to his feet, tail lashing. Rat’s ledger slammed shut. Even Sheep stepped away from the door, forgotten medical bag swinging at her side.
“You can’t—”
“The city needs—”
“This is insane—”
David raised one hand. Shadows surged up from the floor, forming a wall of misty darkness that swallowed all sound. He held it for three heartbeats—long enough for the message to sink in—then let it dissolve.
In the silence that followed, he studied the two Elders who had volunteered to follow him to war. Elder Dragon’s expression revealed nothing beyond that perpetual glint of contempt. Or perhaps that was just how he interpreted the chimeroi’s reptilian features. For all he knew, this could be a smile.
But in Tiger’s golden eyes, he saw something else. Restlessness.
“Explain.”
Elder Tiger’s scarred hands flexed against the table. “Look around this room and tell me what you see…”
He didn’t need to. He already knew.
“Elder Sheep heals. Monkey plans. Rat calculates. Boar builds. Horse crafts. Rabbit watches…
“Each of them has a purpose in this new world.”
She leaned forward, and David saw the predator that had survived decades of underground warfare. “But what about me? What purpose do warriors serve in paradise?”
The question hung between them, heavy with implications David hadn’t fully considered. He’d been so focused on reconstruction and transformation that he’d forgotten some people only knew how to exist in conflict.
“…My kinsmen grow soft,” Elder Dragon added, his casual tone betrayed by the tension in his shoulders. “They patrol streets where nothing happens. They guard walls no one attacks. They train for battles that never come.” He examined his claws again. “Warriors without war are just decorations. Expensive ones.”
“So you’d rather go to war?” David asked. “Fight in a foreign battle? Bleed for a foreign cause?”
“Better than rotting in comfort,” Tiger shot back. “Besides, that’s not how I see it...”
David leaned forward, curious now. What had driven the two most rebellious of the Elders to volunteer?
“I belive that it’s my responsibility to keep our people save,” she began. “But the danger we used to face, the kind that needed claws and fangs, doesn’t exist anymore. Not with your Master keeping order.”
David nodded slowly. So far, he was following her reasoning.
“Which means our top priority should be keeping him breathing, shouldn’t it? That would be the best way to protect this city.”
David sat back, shadows stirring unconsciously around his chair as her words settled in. This… wasn’t the worst logic he’d ever heard. Even so, the offer had caught him off guard. He had prepared for resistance. For objections. For efforts to make him stay.
He had not anticipated volunteers.
“You understand what you’re agreeing to?” he asked, ensuring they grasped the magnitude of the choice. “This is not some skirmish or gang war. The young lord plays for kingdoms now. The fighting will be brutal. Many who follow us won’t return.”
“Good,” Elder Dragon said.
“There will be no backing out,” David continued. “Once committed, you follow orders. Not suggestions. Not requests. Orders. From me, from my lord, from whoever he places above you. Your pride, your independence, your authority—all of that stays here.”
“We know how it works,” Tiger said.
“Do you?” David let strength creep into his voice, shadows deepening until the lamplight struggled to push them back. “The Empire isn’t like any foe you have ever faced. They break nations. They shatter armies. They turn the unthinkable into inevitable through will, violence, and calculated cruelty.”
Neither warrior flinched. If anything, Tiger’s eyes brightened with something close to anticipation.
David studied them a long moment, then nodded once. “Choose your followers carefully. A small group only—the best you have. Warriors who can follow orders and keep their mouths shut. We leave in three days.”
Elder Dragon rose with languid grace. “I’ll need an hour.”
Tiger stood as well, rolling her shoulders as if already preparing for battle. “My people will be ready.”
They left together, and David noticed how none of the other Elders tried to stop them. It was a sign of understanding. The warriors had found their war. Everyone else would have to adapt to their absence.
“This could be challenging,” Elder Monkey said once the door closed behind them. “With both of them gone, our ability to defend ourselves will suffer greatly.”
David considered that for a moment before shaking his head. “Like they said, they’ve been of little use these past months. I doubt that will change now.”
Elder Monkey hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “So, the reconstruction?”
“Just… do your best.” David rose, and the shadows rose with him. “Soria will coordinate with our partners above. Hilda and Nadia will maintain the production schedule. Rabbit will expand the shadow network to cover my absence...”
He moved toward the door, pausing without turning back.
“You’ve all endured without me for years. You’ll will manage a few months more.”
Elder Rabbit’s voice called out to him. “Will you come back?”
David didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. War had a way of consuming everything it touched, transforming those who fought it until return was impossible, even if the body survived.
He left the question behind as he departed the chamber. The shadows followed him through corridors that grew rougher the deeper he went, until he reached the quarters that had once served as a gang’s headquarters and now stood as his administrative center.
Three days to prepare what could be prepared.
Three days to ensure Undercity would endure.
Three days, and then he would go to war—against his former home, against the mightiest nation on the continent.
Three short days…