Dream Writer Ariarose
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Making Mining Solutions
Translated
"Yes, how fast and how bad is that breaking down? We have to trust your men to work when you're not here. It's not like you can be in her head all the time. She has a real mission outside it. Now to the trading sheet." Rupert stretched out his hand and Malvur handing over a stack of papers.
Malvur pointed to our arrows. His shift to practical matters was accompanied by a subtle change in light filtering through the chamber's high windows. "I see you sport projectiles with magical properties, those are made out of gem dust. We have gem dust aplenty as a certain lady went super crazy and made three hundred pounds of dust in every color."
Malvur's calloused finger jabbed at the parchment, leaving a crease on the inventory list. His eyes, hard as uncut gems, locked with Rupert's. "One grain," he growled, pinching air between thick thumb and forefinger. "That's all it takes per unit. Enough dust there to keep those demons at bay when they come crawling out of hell again." He traced the column headings, his nail catching on the paper. "And those gems she stocked it up for yea—three hundred carats of every shade the light touches. Each stack has its cap—" he whistled low, "—three hundred pounds of galgimac bars, stacked alongside iron ingots and coal seams. Your predecessor drew the line there." A mirthless chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Won't last forever, mind you, but should put some bite in those arrows of yours."
As Malvur detailed stockpiles, I noticed a subtle shift in Ariarose's posture—slight straightening and a hint of pride. Her foresight in creating these mental reserves demonstrated an awareness of needs extending beyond her immediate concerns.
Rupert's shoulders dropped as he exhaled, the tension visibly draining from his frame. His eyes darted to Ariarose, catching the gentle curve of her lips and the knowing glint in her eye. "So this whole 'empty buckets' scenario," he said, tapping the inventory with his knuckle, "it's a test to see how we'd handle imminent doom, isn't it?"
Ariarose's left eyelid dropped in a deliberate wink, the marble-white skin around it crinkling slightly. Her voice lowered to a honeyed murmur that seemed meant for Rupert alone, though it carried through the chamber. "The tour demands a few lines given with a verbatim recitation, like actors on opening night." Her fingers traced invisible lines in the air, mapping out a path. "Sweetness keeps a tally, you know. Husbands who navigate their various trials correctly..." She tapped the inventory with one finger, then another, counting silently. "gains points. Points count toward reaching a reward beyond imagining though what it is I don't know husbands never tell me and say its something very valuable when earned." A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she watched understanding dawn across Rupert's face.
"You know you're lucky to have a limit. Some men don't stockpile anything, and the town can't build anything during their time here." The practical considerations Malvur raised reminded me of the complex systems underlying this mental realm—not just a fantasy world, but one with economies, resource management, and infrastructure issues. The sophistication of Ariarose's unconscious mind continued to amaze me.
"Well we are in a war so three hundred pounds is a joke. I get her building projects probably need much more, and I will obviously get her more material to build worker homes." Rupert's hands moved as he spoke, tracing shapes in the air as if he was already envisioning construction. "And within ten rounds of elemental calls, those gems will vanish, but at least we have some. Thank you, beloved, for making dust to the maximum, as I was worried about how much we'd need to import for dust." He paused.
"Now, the schedules. The three hundred pounds at least makes the cheapest ore purchase unnecessary."
Rupert spoke as if he had totally missed the conversation, "Galgimac at twenty, if not too off, should be thirty thousand. It's high turnaround, how much of a kick to the ass is that?"
Other dwarves murmured in agreement, their voices blending into a bass rumble that reminded me of distant thunder rolling through a cavern and striking a faraway tree. One stroked his beard thoughtfully, and his chains of metal dangled from his waist to his weapon. They sparkled suddenly and shimmered in the sky as they drew near to Coal. "Gattuhtuth Colbio, you luthutook gothutood. You'vuthe fothutorgothuttuthuten yoursuthutelf." (Brother Colbio, you look good. You've forgotten yourself.)
"Whothutath did you sothutay?" (What did you say?) Then he put his hand to his face, and his body began to change into that of a dwarf. He stood and shook. "Huthey Colbio, thothutath is muthuthe. Hothutow did I endotuh up in thutih lontuhd thuthif thutih fothutairuthuties?" (Hey Colbio, that is me. How did I end up in the land of the fairies?)
Malvur smiled, "Juthamil ruthutaytak, gotukhi. Dhuthehtabhonothuta hunothutath li tothutajid hothutathothuta." (Nice to see you, brother. You went there to find this one.) He pointed to Rupert.
"Sothuthahih... sothuthahih. Anothuta qothutasir!" (That's right... that's right. I'm a dwarf!)
"We need a lot of galgamic." Rupert's brow furrowed slightly as he worked through the calculations, his mind bridging the gap between this mental realm's economy and external reality.
"Intothutazothuter, mothutathothuta? Othutil-fothutahm kothutan li yothutajidin?" (Wait, what? Coal was to find me?) "Wait, he's not Coal...Colbio was a stone fairy, but he's a dwarf."
"Yep, three dwarfs," she put her fingers up to match the number, "went out to find the only one who blooms my rose: beginning, middle, and end, as they had great destinies according to a bit of lore that came under their noses. Viola and I told them they had no real need of going anywhere. We'd come across you, and the end and beginning would show up in the same place. They were like, 'that is impossible.'"
"It took a bit. Anyway, those two came back as well—there was no point in staying. Rupert, you need husband levels to get them, and then you'll run across them eventually in the head. Convince them to join, and we'll make match sets. So guess what? You convinced this one to join. So 'two' sets are coming. Don't worry, don't need more than three houses. The others we build bonus for you. Call it a perk. Ah, the mountain looks lovelier for the added height of homes. But still, they will take time to arrive, and even with an eighteen-man crew, this war would try us."
Rupert's attention shifted to the tables. "These all look low but that doesn't sit well with me. As I have a feeling the exchange rate is far off."
"Anyway, as you all are now a couple hundred thousand per night stay we need to refigure it, but we do that in a second." she stated, marbled fingers tapping against table in rhythm matching her thoughts. "Gathuther Colbio, wothutaqt irjothuta' othutil-sihrutih othutallothutathi istothutarakotutathothuta, wothuta kun nothutafothutask, illothuta idhothuta... tothutufothutaddil kun fothutairy muthutuzlim." (Brother Colbio, it's time to return the magic you've borrowed, and to being yourself, unless you, ah, prefer being a dark fairy?) "That offer remains."
"Othutabqa fothutairy muthutuzlim! Lothuta fi hothutayothutatak. Shukrothutan, sothutayothutidothutati, lil-tothutujarib. Urjothuteu kull hothutadoyothuta othutil-makothutafothutath ilothuta... othutil-kothutawkothutab. Nothuta'othutam, othutil-kothutawkothutab hothutathothuta mothuta sothutammothutainohuthu." (Remain a dark fairy! Not on your life. Thanks, Milady, for the experiences. I return all my bonus gifts back to the um... planet. Yeah, the planet that is what we called it.) He started chuckling and his body transformed. His stone façade fell in chunks, scattering a little dust all around. The armor however started to mold halfway. He was a short and stocky fellow but getting even wider. Colbio yelled, "Help! My armor is suffocating me."
The soft tapping echoed in the chamber, creating a counterpoint to the deeper sounds of distant forges. Ariarose's concentration was clear in the slight furrow of her brow, with the black and white patterns of her skin seeming to shift subtly as she focused.
"Someone please help him." She asked the dwarf that told Colbio who he was. "As I said, of course, he won't let me just magic it off him."
"Lothuta othutasothutlakh mothuta'othuta musothutaiothutdath othutil-sothutayothutidothuta othutabothutadothutan." (I will never ask for help from milady ever again.) Colbio stuck his tongue out. "I'm not a perverted fairy." His eyes widened and his lips curled. "So many nasty meals later, and I am ready to kiss a fine steak well-done." He shuddered head to toe. "Tothuta'othutam khothutam, dothutanif, mugothutahmothutmas bil-dothutamm!" (Raw food, hairy, furry, soaked in blood!) He moved off to a back room muttering, "Othutazm wothuta fothutarw wothuta kull qothutathir I'm so glad to never eat mash again. Bluck!" (Bone and fur and all guts I'm so glad to never eat mash again. Bluck!)
The dwarf's laughter boomed through the chamber, rattled the beads in his beard. Rupert's shoulders relaxed visibly, and Ariarose's eyes crinkled at the corners. Even Colbio leaned back in his chair, one arm draped casually over its back. I noticed my own grip had loosened on my staff—the white-knuckle tension from when we'd first gathered around this table now just a memory.
"Husband, call up a store in the fairy world that sells regularly priced goods. I know some of the nonfairy vendors inflate so please one that you would say isn't inflated not only for being a nonfairy vendor but because the items are hard to come by, like bread. Bread would be inflated for fairies since it's just hard to get. Find somewhere with normal goods that aren't cheap, either, because they're easy to get like leather is cheaper in the fairy world. Well some leathers are cheap."
I watched Ariarose's fingers dance across the calculations. Her voice rattled off quick and precise. She was like a master weaver at her loom ready to make perfection weaving complex economics with such ease and yet a woman. That still caught me off-guard, like finding a delicate chess queen suddenly capable of moving like any piece on the board. My experiences tell me royal women are mostly decorative creatures, their value measured in bloodlines and dowries, their talents confined to embroidery frames and ballroom floors. But Ariarose, she shocked me all the time.
"Mirror," Rupert commanded, his voice softening as he stroked the ornate silver frame, "show me Achilles' Mercantile." The glass clouded and swirled in a dancing rhythm momentarily before clearing to reveal a bustling fairy shop where patrons purchased goods of colorful patterns. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he nodded toward Ariarose. "Holalomelgolda. Hommage gettin." (You're looking and smelling delectable too. But honey, you need to plan your purchases.) "Look at those price tags, sweetheart—see how the amber numerals glow? Standard rates, not the inflated nonsense they charge at the border markets. Perfect baseline for our calculations. The way you figure exchange rates is fair."
Shelves spiraled upward until they hit the ceiling, their contents stood in small alcoves all facing proudly toward the buyers. A fairy no taller than a child's hand darted past, trailing dust that had a grinding note of cinnamon hues, her wings a blur of translucent silver as she lifted and rearranged crystal vials that caught and fractured light. When she left the vials all moved back to face the front without any sort of assistance.
In the next aisle, a dark fairy with obsidian skin and wingspan wide as a man's reach examined a music box, his long fingers tracing its edges without quite touching, chin lifted as though the mere act of shopping was beneath him. Everywhere, merchandise pulsed with its own inner radiance—books whose pages turned themselves, mechanical birds that sang when approached, and floating orbs that showered rainbow fragments across the polished floor.
"I think so too. Is everything in flatbacks? You have higher currencies?" Ariarose asked, eyes tracking movement of fairy cashier whose hands moved too quickly to follow as they wrapped purchases in simple brown paper which was shocking given the magical store.
"Yes, this store doesn't sell anything luxurious that is why he wraps in plain paper." Rupert nodded and then his hands twitched as he nearly reached out towards her.
"Okay, let me know if I pick anything that's an exception in the shop for being either over- or underpriced. Let's see, a copper watering can costs four million flat backs. So far, it looks like five hundred flat backs equals one credit. But we'll go with three items and take the average."
Ariarose's finger tapped against a hovering quill in the mirror's reflection. "These are marked up absurdly in the head—useless for our calculation." She leaned closer, squinting past a diminutive clerk with gossamer wings. "There—that leather-bound volume." The book's gilt-edged title caught the light: Happy Fairy Tales, its price tag glimmering in amber numerals: 750,000. She smiled, "That one also tells me its five hundred flatbacks to one credit." Her attention darted to the counter where a young fairy with frost-blue skin exchanged a strip of iridescent rock candy. The numerals flickered rapidly: 68,000 plus a blur of smaller digits. The merchant dropped something coin-shaped into the customer's palm that glinted copper in the shop's crystal light. "What's that tiny piece they've just handed back, husband? Some fractional currency I'm not familiar with? I didn't know you had smaller currency."
"Beloved we do have lower ones but only for taxes. It is likely a half back. For small purchases, we get half and tenth backs, but I wouldn't imagine it being a dime back. Candy items have a bonus tax that almost ends your bill at a half. Sugar has a flat tax and you often end up paying a half back or getting one back in change," he explained.
"Interesting you also call your tenth of a currency a dime. That is what the dollar is divided into when it's broken into tenths. Let's see if the first number was its price, then we have five hundred to one. Malvur, what do you say? Should I go for a different item or say it's five hundred to one?"
"Yeah, that is likely the price of the rock candy strip; the chances of the third being different are stranger." Malvur's thick finger tapped against the table with finality.
"Stomina, throw it out. Be exacting on exchange rate; we fairies ask for genuinely fair, not guesswork," (Let me gather a little strength looking at you okay now back to business, throw it out. Be exacting on the exchange rate; we fairies ask for what is genuinely fair and not guesswork,) Rupert said firmly.
The others nodded, and I agreed that the difference in the average made a huge impact on the city over many transactions. Chances are the next item would be a five hundred to one bet, but it was better to check. The methodical approach to establishing a fair exchange rate impressed me—especially within a mental construct. Attention to detail in this economic system showed Ariarose's understanding that even imagined worlds should operate by consistent rules.
"Okay. There is a doll." Ariarose's voice softened as the mirror's surface rippled to reveal a collection of figurines in a variety of beautiful looks and species. "Hello, little dolly at one-million-fifty-thousand." Her marble finger hovered over the glass where an eighteen-inch creation stood apart from the others. Moonlight-pale porcelain caught the shop's illumination shining through the mirror like it wanted to touch her heart. The doll's cheeks glowed with a blush that seemed almost to pulse with breath. Tiny eyelashes—real hair, not painted—cast spider-leg shadows across knowing eyes of cobalt blue. The miniature gown cascaded in layers of iridescent silk that whispered against obsidian shelving whenever the shop's door opened. "Can't use you for calculations unless we know if you're magical, well more than just having some pretty reactions. What's going on is a doll dolly flirting?" she murmured, tilting her head as a wisp of the doll's auburn hair stirred without being touched. "Though I highly doubt you are genuinely magical."
She wiggled her finger at the mirror as if to play with the doll herself. As she did, her entire demeanor softened, the severe lines of her marbled form becoming more graceful. For a moment, the powerful being whose mind we inhabited revealed a glimpse of childlike wonder that seemed at odds with the serious business at hand. The contrast was both endearing and revealing—here was a mind capable of maintaining complex economic systems while still preserving the capacity for simple joy.
I shook my head inwardly. Women! Even amid serious economic planning, her joy in small things stayed charming. Maybe it was this sense of wonder that allowed her to build such a rich inner world in the first place.
"It is a regular doll in the store, a beloved nice mundane present that you can make really magical yourself later." Rupert smiled at her antics. The ancient Duke's face showed genuine tenderness as he watched his wife, expression more open than I'd seen during our previous strategic discussions. A strand of dark hair fell across his forehead, making him appear momentarily younger—perhaps a glimpse of the being he'd been millions of years ago. "I guess I should buy you that doll when I get home."
Rupert's eyes crinkled at the corners as he watched her marble finger trace circles in the air, his shoulders relaxing beneath his armor. The ancient fairy who had negotiated thousand-year treaties now leaned forward with the eagerness of a young suitor, drinking in her delight as though it were the rarest nectar in his realm. When she wiggled her finger at the doll again, his lips parted in a smile that transformed his severe features, momentarily erasing the weight of countless centuries from his face.
"Nah, I'm okay." Her marble finger traced another circle in the air as the doll's tiny hand seemed to rise in response. "Yes, you feel me, little dolly, we are friends. This one is a warm doll." The hard edges of her face melted away, replaced by something softer—the same expression mothers wear watching their children unwrap presents. Her eyes sparkled with borrowed joy. "Just thinking about some little fairy child holding this real beautiful doll. Those dearest tiny fingers smoothing down that dress and introducing her to the tea party waiting..." She lingered a moment longer before straightening her shoulders, business-like once more. "Well it delights me like its my soul playing in that moment. But it being basic magic settles it—another five hundred to one. Five hundred Flatbacks equals one credit."
With one last glance at the porcelain figure,"Goodbye, little Dolly. Mirror off please." She said and sighed as she passed the mirror back to Malvur, her fingertips trailing reluctantly across its surface.
The brief distraction with the doll revealed a softer side of Ariarose, a glimpse of childlike delight that seemed out of place with her role as a powerful being whose mind we currently occupied. Yet maybe it was that very capacity for wonder that allowed her to create such a complex inner world.
Rupert looked into her eyes and said, "Maybe I should still get it for you since I doubt you'd object to it."
"I wouldn't object to it, but I'm a little old to play with dolls. What would I do with the dolly? I'd find a kid and lend it to them. I couldn't give it away." She winked.
"Of course, not as it would be a precious gift from me to you." He leaned back and smiled. "Yes, getting you that dolly will be great."
"Don't feel it's a requirement. Anyway, five hundred to one it is."
"With that information, I should be paying six thousand credits per pound at this 20% purity." Rupert's quick mental math showed his skill with numbers—unsurprising for someone who had managed ducal finances for millions of years.
"Of course, folks, the other towns gouge us in the eyes and kick us in the balls. We need to import stuff that will cost us, in fairy flat backs, a hundred thousand more for galgimac, though only fifty thousand more for iron. And my love, you need coal," he asked, and she nodded in confirmation. "That's over too. It's twenty thousand a ton, which is ridiculous, and we need, what, ten tons to make the elevator well? Ten pure-grade tons, which is fifty of the stuff selling at twenty thousand. Oh stars, we need a ton of iron for the elevator."
His colorful language contrasted with precise calculations, serving as a reminder that, despite his ducal dignity, Rupert remained a dark fairy with a soldier's vocabulary when the situation demanded it.
"The elevator shaft is in place, so it's just the elevator unit now. I started feeling faint and stopped building." She looked down and bit her lip, a gesture of vulnerability that seemed at odds with the power needed to create this entire mental landscape. "When you wanted to go to town, I built as much as I could, but we didn't have the tester. I fixed the school first, though. You really didn't want to have to fix that mess, and we can't have the school exposed to the elements. I did feel better after the cocoa, but I wasn't sure I could build more yet."
Her admission of weakness—stopping construction because she felt faint—brought a scowl to my face. The drain on her resources was substantial, and she's worried about our funds. What the hell do we do? Everyone has limits.
"Donallbarie, I'm glad you stopped and didn't just push ahead because cocoa isn't enough. I know you ate a little food on the trip, but you shouldn't push yourself. Please never push yourself to the point of fainting. I'm glad you saw a warning sign and stopped, but you should have said 'Hey sweetheart, get me a banana and a tester.'" (The woman that makes every moment blessed to heart, mind, body, and soul, I'm glad you stopped and didn't just push ahead because cocoa isn't enough. I know you ate a little food on the trip, but you shouldn't push yourself. Please never push yourself to the point of fainting. I'm glad you saw a warning sign and stopped, but you should have said 'Hey sweetheart, get me a banana and a tester.') Rupert's concern was evident.
"She had nectar and that glitter," I asked quizzically as there was bonus stuff more recent than the burger.
All the fairies stared at me, "Do you think nectar is food Merlin or she is even recovered from her lankos yet? Or burning old wings like that doesn't drain a lady of resources on all levels. Honestly, we are all just lucky she's standing." Rupert shook his head.
His voice carried genuine concern rather than reproach, with the old Duke's experience evident in his calm assessment of the situation. He shifted in his seat, and the movement caused light to cascade differently across his features, emphasizing the sharp angles of his face. "In fact, love, Ariarose, please get me a bright yellow banana." The banana instantly appeared in his hand—perfect with unblemished yellow skin. He tossed it to her. "Eat that."
She caught it with easy grace, marbled fingers closing around it with deliberate care. The contrast between bright yellow fruit and her black and white skin created striking visual effect. She peeled it quickly. "Sorry darling, I wasn't thinking but when did I have nectar? Don't remember having any."
"Of course, you don't beloved. What I've given you is barely enough to mention for a queen and you're a goddess. I assume I won't even achieve fueling your wings." He breathed her in and then he groaned deep.
"I'm sorry for forgetting though." The apology was offered with small duck of her head, a humble gesture that seemed at odds with her role as creator and sustainer of this entire mental landscape. "I should have worked on it some more."
He smiled warmly. "No, sugar, don't worry about the elevator. It's no big deal, just an expense. But honestly, I should have been managing your blood sugar on top of the lankos. And baby, I gave you plenty of worries and the worries aren't even over yet. You're still spinning because I was an ass. After I stopped acting like an idiot, I realized I should have requested a new unit, but I let it go. I shouldn't have, but there were other things that were also distracting me. You took a hell of a lot of damage from that fire and I was counting meals, but I should have assumed those repairs were being done. So, we will call it a joint we were both not fully thinking. We will spend the money for the elevator. It's just a lot of material."
The warmth in his voice belied the ancient being's reputation for harshness. With Ariarose, he showed tenderness that spoke to genuine concern rather than mere possessiveness. His awareness of her well-being extended to understanding complex interplay between her physical and mental states.
I was somewhat surprised he didn't order a unit or strip the banana as usual, but then I understood—right now she was all tingling for him. Her moaning at a simple touch would be very inappropriate in front of conservative dwarves.
"The town will pay back the budget spent on the elevator as soon as I use the ore. We will also give you a salary. Get, it's not based on the inflated bar price. We base it on our production of the bar cost."
Malvur traced invisible calculations on table's surface as he spoke, methodical movement drawing all eyes to his hands. Perfect craftsmanship of his rings caught light, sending tiny reflections dancing in a rainbow hue.
"The higher quality it is the better we pay. Fifty gives six percent. Thirty-four is five. Twenty-five is four. Twenty is three and half. Ten percent ore is three." The dwarf's explanation of payment structure was accompanied by gestures indicating relative values, thick fingers splaying to indicate percentages. The system had elegant logic—better quality materials meant better profits for all involved, aligning incentives in way that encouraged excellence.
"The town shouldn't give me any sort of salary for procuring the resources at these pitiful rates."
Rupert's objection was accompanied by small shake of his head, brow furrowing slightly. For him to decline profit seemed unusual, but perhaps thirty million years had given him perspective beyond mere accumulation of wealth.
Dilweed grunted thoughtfully. "Actually, it's a bit fair you get some salary. Six seems overly generous granted but they need the ore badly. When a town is low on ore getting it is always unfair to the buyer. Three hundred ore across the board is a joke. This town has to need a ton of coal for heating homes. I'd throw in a few extra tons Rupert beyond the elevator just to be safe. We can't get more easily as I have a feeling someone lost his coal making ability. It's only if you have stuff to trade that you might get it fairly priced. What ore do we have coming in regular like to trade?"
Dilweed hunched his shoulders slightly as he spoke, his seven-foot frame folding inward like a closing flower tired of reaching toward the sun. His eyes remained fixed on the table rather than seeking agreement from those around him. When he mentioned the coal reserves, he glanced his hand across his flower petal bone growths, mapping out winter needs and I suspect he had survived many cold seasons.
Malvur nodded in agreement. "Your pal is correct—if you had a mine running, the exchange rate would get a little friendlier, but right now, we have a serious problem. Her mining before shouldn't have happened." He pointed at Ariarose, his thick finger jabbing the air for emphasis. "Women should stay in the mountain and not gallivant about."
The dwarf's traditional views on gender roles appeared at odds with Ariarose's demonstrated competence, yet he expressed his opinion without apparent malice—simply stating what he regarded as the natural order within his culture. But I had to be honest, I also prefered women staying within the castle keep and disliked finding a woman out on her lonesome. The distinct tap of Malvur's boots against the stone floor punctuated his statement, creating a rhythm as a woodpeckers knocking.
"I have an angel who needs me; how could I move to a mountain?" Her lips curved upward as tiny blossoms emerged across her marbled skin, blooming in delicate patterns where black met white. The flowers pulsed gently with each breath, like a visual echo of her heartbeat, and her face had a peaceful quality that called to me. "Besides, I'm already living in a mountain right now."
"Don't talk to me about his mountain or I might just up and quit." Malvur scowled and tipped down his ale. He slammed the mug on the table and then sighed. "Ariarose another round for all those who are empty please."
Amber liquid rose in each empty mug as if invisible pitchers poured from above rather than just refilling instantly and I wondered on it. My own cup remained half-full, and I stared into the dark depths, recalling how my throat had constricted at the first swallow from the potency. I lifted it anyway and took a cautious sip of the scalding drink.
"Don't quit, please," Ariarose said, her voice dropping to a whisper that somehow carried to every corner. The flames in the hearth dimmed in response, and the wooden beams overhead creaked as if the building itself leaned in to listen. "We need you."
"That you do but this one," He pointed at Rupert, "he's perverted."
The accusation crashed against the walls and l saw the fairies beyond Rupert grab weapons and the dwarves react in kind. My shoulders tightened as I glanced between Malvur's bristling beard and Rupert's face. The dwarf's thick fingers still pointed accusingly while the rest of his kin sat motionless as carved stone.
Rupert's eyes, normally dancing with mischief, held steady. He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Sorry," he said, one corner of his mouth lifting, "I do love sex a ton." His words matched the dwarf's bluntness, syllable for syllable, challenge for challenge.
A moment of tense silence followed his admission. Flames in the hearth seemed to leap higher for a moment, then settled back to a steady burn. One of the younger dwarfs shifted uncomfortably, causing his chair to scrape against the stone floor.
"It is a thing about being a dark fairy. I know dwarves are conservative people. I will try my best to keep myself in check around you, but I admit I'm sitting here and all I want to do is touch her. You don't know what it took for me to toss her that banana instead of doing it like I want to do it."
His candid response seemed to catch Malvur off guard. The dwarf's stern expression softened a bit, and he offered a grudging nod of acknowledgment, beads in his beard catching the light as they swayed. His eyes, still as hard as polished stone, nonetheless conveyed a newfound respect.
"At least, you are honest about it. I can deal with an honest man." Malvur sat back. "Colbio looking much more comfortable." Everyone set their fingers back to the side. "Though I guess you will miss making mountains of ore by walking around depleted veins and replenishing them."
Colbio slammed his shoulder hard against Rupert's arm. "And a mighty nice gift it was to borrow a bit of our lady's power. Kept me out of wars with other dwarves and made me a valuable man at the mines. Each of us borrowing a little when we left, hoping to find your middle, beginning, and end. Hey, why hasn't the first brother returned? The beginning and end seemed to be together."
Ariarose giggled, "He's back and he isn't. Guys, where is he exactly?"
"Making your husband's lives miserable whenever he shows up on this tour. Get three levels of husbandry Rupert, and you'll get yourself a spare dwarf if you can convince him to return to the mountain and get his wife to agree mining is a safe thing. HA HA HA not easy, right? The other one takes nine to find, and his wife well, she likes the neighborhood, doesn't mind him being a jeweler. Brother Colbio, we like the challenge of the mines being unfunctional and it gives you like this weird vacation-like thing."
One of the other dwarfs leaned forward, speaking in their native tongue, "Gathuther, you motontuth tothutell us whothutath it wothutastuth likiotuh othutamonuthgh thuthith pothutervothuteedothuth dothutarkths?" (Brother, you need to tell us what it was like among the perverted darks?)
Colbio's expression darkened. "You wothutould'tuthit baliuthuthevu whothutath o monthuthath gouthutoth pothutaidututh in fothutortututh mininuthgh. Rothutapu othutauth wothutomothutan othutamonuthgh thuthirutih chothutarguthuthes. Buthuturi you tothutaku itututh duothututh tothutotututh thuthih pothrothuthesitu buthutinguthuth othutactivu. Nothutow thothutathuthuti Im hothutoomuthu I cuthutanuthuth rotuthurnuthuti tothutotututh thuthuth fruethuthudothutom othuthfit buthutingututh othutasluthup. Oththuth, ondututh I wothutasuthith uthutevothutunuthit othuthfothutfuthutruedotutugh othutotututh Lothutadythuthuth thothutathuti I turnuthururndututh dothutownuthuth flothutaruthtuth!" (You wouldn't believe what a man got paid in for mining. Rape a woman among their charges. But you take it due to the parasite being active. Now that I'm home I can return to the freedom of it being asleep. Oh, and I was even offered our Lady that I turned down flat!)
Rupert exploded in rapid dwarf language, "You wothuthoothurutu othuthfothuthfothutruedothuth?!" (You were offered?!)
Ariarose tapped him and he calmed, switching to fairy, "Milon includon conah venalli listaron stardrall." (I didn't include him in that list dearest.)
He nodded and switched to Common, "My apologies."
Colbio stared back at him, speaking clearly in fairy, "Milon getaron, Rupert." (I get it, Rupert.)
I found myself completely baffled by the rapid language switching and demanded, "What just happened? I need a translation."
Ariarose quickly explained, "Colbio was explaining the fairy practice of paying off men in sex was terrible to his heart, and when offered me he declined. Rupert for one tic mistook it, and I reminded him I did not list Coal among them."
Colbio nodded and stroked his red beard. "A miner going on vacation why? Never will understand such notions. But okay. Yes, it has to get them going on fixing things up. We don't need to worry so much about this one. Great leader, for a dark fairy.
Perverted, but not terribly, he's alright though a little too handsy even for a darky when it comes to his wife." He shuddered and then tapped Rupert's back. "For sure, I'd fight with you most anytime. Call my score of you a push into the second husband level. Bonus assessment of dwarf attached to first, middle, and last."
Colbio chuckled, and his hair moved around his dark blue shirt as his leather pants stretched down to cover his heavy boots. "Nothuta'othutam, othutafothutdothutl kothutathirothutan. othutAthuthutakothuthothutothutorthuthutotuthuthuth othutil-mohuttumothutothuta othutil-onuthuthuth, wothutauth kull shothutay yuthutudothuturus fi qothutothutorothutothutothutothuth muthutushothutothutothutorothutothutothutothuthuk buthutayonuthuthuth fothutothy muthututhutzimutheuthuth onothutothutothutothutothuthuth wothutothutothuta hothutothutothutothuthitothutoth qothutothutasir, lothutothutothutothutothutinkinus othutothutothutukothutudothutumothuth buthutau dothuth Chropi." (Yes, much better. I remember the mission now, and everything resolves in a joint decision between dark fairy me and real dwarf fact, but I'll take some Chropi.)
"Chropi?" I asked. "Actually what have you all been saying? Its rather maddening to sit here in the dark." I crossed my hands across my chest angry.
He laughed, "Sorry we are all speaking dwarf and fairy on occasion when in another's hut you speak their language although fairy is used for quick business between those that know it. Chropi is Dwarf food. We keep a small stash of it because it's not available on the Ariarose menu. Chropi, a sweet fluffy cake made from finely ground rocks and flowers. Someone give me Chropi, please." He sighed and collapsed.
"How can rocks make something fluffy?" I asked.
Ariarose smiled, "You'd be surprised by what happens when certain rocks get ground down Merlin. Many things can make flour in the magical world. What is grain not hard? But you will not get Chropi here today Colbio?"
The men all laughed, "She's got that right. Do you think we ever manage to keep such a delight in a dwarf house, Colbio?"
His head sank. "Millions of years of mash." He grimaced and groaned, "Looked forward to Chropi in my dreams. Soft, fluffy, dreamy, fudgy cake. Sometime soon, we need to score an import."
"You guys could let me try it sometime, and you wouldn't need to wait for Drinasta." Ariarose shook her head.
Rupert ran his hand through his hair, "Hell no! You can't even drink alcohol. I'm not about to let you try Chropi."
"It's food and never has intoxicated anyone eating it." Her brows furrowed. "I've seen ladies make it. They say it's not alcohol nor does it have any in it."
"Well, it's not exactly alcohol, but we're sure a certain spirit would look at it the same." They all sighed, Malvur pursed his lips and made his beard charms jingle. "Call it devastating on a lady who is a dwarf multiformer. Repercussion of being well...unique."
"I'm human." She scratched her head, "Whatever?"
"Says the woman who is sitting here as a black marble queen. Magical can't lie but there she is lying to herself."
"What do you mean by that, Rupert? I never lie."
Rupert cackled, then put his hand to his face and addressed Colbio, totally ignoring her complaint, as I am sure she was confused but not lying exactly. "Sorry you missed your favorite food for finding me."
Colbio waved it off, "I knew what I signed up for when I grabbed the commission."
Rupert fluttered the paper. "Okay, well, we all make sacrifices sometimes. I need to get this order together. Dilweed's right, Donallbarie—how much coal does the town go through to heat homes?" (Dilweed's right, the woman that makes every moment blessed to heart, mind, body, and soul—how much coal does the town go through to heat homes?)
His transition back to practical matters was smooth, redirecting the conversation away from potential conflict and toward the task at hand. The change in focus was mirrored by a subtle shift in the light filtering through high windows, as if the mental realm itself approved of the return to productivity.
She looked at the dwarf questioningly. "We don't use coal for heating. But a couple extra tons of ore would be advisable. You do need it when making metals in forges and well elsewhere."
"Ah, wood burning makes sense—tons of trees, so why use coal when you're short on ore? Though I do dislike burning fine timber. Uni extra ton with iron probably matches. As for the dogs, they'll damage the elevator and forge work. This time, you actually mean woni tons of woni, since we can get better-quality materials for future repair work. Also, I don't mind that part of the high-quality order, as I'm sure Colbio lost his magical touch in giving back to the earth, right?" (One extra ton with iron probably matches. This time, you actually mean two tons of twenty, since we can get better-quality materials for future repair work.)
Rupert's hands moved as he spoke, sketching imaginary calculations in air. The ancient Duke's facility with numbers was impressive, mind efficiently handling complex logistics. "Ah yes, husband levels. I take it a well-managed town gets me another level. Anyway, we need lani weituns of cheap shit to make uni weitun. Platemail requires troktroni to laklani weituns with the exception of the dots. They are under troni weituns. Laklani morippow lani is wodsedfani adding hini equals wodoenafani morippow lani makes unkfankwoki. Okay, that's our galgimac order for the low-grade stuff." (Anyway, we need five pounds of cheap shit to make one pound. Platemail requires thirty-three to fifty-five pounds with the exception of the dots. They are under three pounds. Fifty-five times five is two hundred seventy-five adding nine equals two hundred eighty-four times five makes one thousand four hundred twenty. Okay, that's our galgimac order for the low-grade stuff.)
As he worked through calculations, fingers tapped against the table in rhythm, matching the cadence of his words. The focus and precision with which he approached the task suggested this was familiar territory—resource management on a large scale was clearly something he'd handled countless times across his thirty-million-year lifespan.
Dilweed contributed, "My javelin heads are troni weituns each." (My javelin heads are three pounds each.)
Stibbons mentioned, "My throwing axe heads are the same."
Dibbon stated, "Our throwing stars are lani ounces." (Our throwing stars are five ounces.)
Dilweed, Stibbons, and Dibbon rattled off their weapon specifications with the practiced cadence of soldiers at roll call—no wasted breath, no unnecessary details. Their eyes remained forward, shoulders squared, hands resting flat on the table. Each man waited his precise turn, then fell silent. The rhythm of their responses matched Rupert's own methodical finger-tapping as he absorbed their information, his eyes already calculating quantities and costs but also held a frown that grew with each addition.
"Thanks, fellows, for that information, not that I needed it." He and all of them started laughing.
"Sorry, Rupert," Dilweed hung his head down and landed it on the table. "So used to spilling details like that in purchasing. Our last Captain never remembered anything about weights of weapons when doing orders."
Rupert cackled, "I didn't figure my young officers meant it as an insult. I say our troktroni hundred weituns of iron ore covers our arrow calls for this woni what we need to figure is how much we need for weapon and armor repairs and projectiles." (I say our three hundred pounds of iron ore covers our arrow calls for this twenty what we need to figure is how much we need for weapon and armor repairs and projectiles.)
The ancient Duke's fingers traced invisible diagrams in air as he spoke, movements precise and practiced. Though figures were invisible, I found myself following his gestures, understanding calculations he was working through.
"Thankfully the stars have yet to need replacing. My swordon are troni and sini weituns." (My swords are three and half pounds.) "Minastarall's top blades the same. Vonkfani weituns there. My javelin heads are troni weituns each for Dilweed. Sini weituns add Merlin staff is sini weituns. Sini weituns sini." (My lady's top blades the same. Fourteen pounds there. My javelin heads are three pounds each for Dilweed. Six pounds add Merlin staff is six pounds. Six pounds six.)
At mention of my name and staff, I unconsciously touched my weapon leaning against my chair. Its familiar weight had become comfort during our time in this mental realm, a connection to my identity amidst the surreal experience of flowing languages of dwarven and fairy. A touch of my name was like a small bit of happiness.
Ariarose looked at him with raised eyebrows. "You mean swobepon right?"
"No Charimo I need to work it on something tougher first. Then a mess of just demons without their magic. This war is more like a bar fight." (No, you mean the world to me, and I cannot believe I am lucky enough to hold you in my arms, I need to work it on something tougher first. Then a mess of just demons without their magic. This war is more like a bar fight.)
"Oh and so I take it the fight with hellhounds was a bar fight. They took a chunk out of you."
"I was on a protection potion with no damage except for a mental battle. Nah... but we'll get it up there. You know that there is no other tool I am going to use."
"So you do love the swords I made for you."
"Ah you made them for me. No wonder... did you make all our weapons love?" She nodded.
I sat there for a moment processing this exchange, then looked up with confusion. "What is the difference in the terms swordon and swobepon?"
Rupert smiled, "Well Swo is our term for well a slightly curved mostly straight item unlike plain s which is curved more or less all the way. B is bladed objects well b is when added to other things. Epon is weapon and odon is tool used all the time well all the time by men. If it was used all the time by women it be olon. A sword unlike many weapons is something every man should know how to use. But you use a sword enough and bathe it in victories its not just a tool. Its a weapon and deserves that distinction over just any sword you pick up. I love my baby's sword so much. Ah female weapons wonderful thing. Once they attune to you they come back to you. Hold onto that staff of yours as often as you can, as it being attuned to you will save your ass someday."
I stroked my beard thoughtfully for a moment, then looked up. "But its not swodon but a swordon?"
Ariarose smiled, "Ah he gets that r because he is a master at the sword."
Rupert nodded, "You got that right sweetheart, and so don't you worry I'll make these babies you made me bepons in the end." She smiled.
"Why is ah... I guess a staff a wodon and not a weapon do I have to bathe it in blood too?" I asked.
Rupert shook his head. "Ah no sorry my man a staff never makes it a weapon, but fellows you agree with me his staff work is sirwebodon repon?"
"Oh yes he is a master staff man," Stibbons said.
"Yes for sure," Chadun stated.
"Merlin I was merely referring to the tool not your prowess so understand a staff is not worth being considered a weapon either. The only way some piece of wood gets thought of as something worth while is if there is a man who wields it so well he makes it into a weapon. You are a sirwebodon repon. But the staff in most man's hands is but a tool they can use to defend themselves in pinch."
My face fell. "So my magical staff isn't considered a weapon at all?"
"In your case," Ariarose interjected thoughtfully, "they'd probably call you 'irwebodon repon' - acknowledging that you wield that staff tool with the deadliness of someone carrying a weapon and are a deadly weapon. It's not elevating your staff as an object, but recognizing that in your hands, it becomes weapon-dangerous as you are a weapon master. Repon weapon master man or woman."
"Repon on its lonesome is a pronged weapon like a trident. Redon repon is a standard farmer's pitchfork that in the hands of that farmer, well likely, is as good as a weapon." Rupert explained. "So 'odon repon' means you fight with staff mastery equivalent to someone wielding a battle-proven pitchfork. It's comparative recognition of your combat effectiveness."
Whatever was mentioned brought subtle change to atmosphere, the air seeming to grow heavier as we all recalled reason for our presence in this mental realm. Stibbons straightened in his seat, hand unconsciously moving to touch axe at his side. Even in this safe space, memory of battle against hellhounds remained vivid.
"Not anymore she's throwing the sini on my chest," Chadun stated, hand moving to touch weapons in question. (Not anymore she's throwing the six on my chest.)
The stocky guard's voice carried hint of pride mixed with concern. A beam of light from high windows fell across his face, highlighting weathered lines around his eyes—evidence of countless battles fought at Rupert's side.
"We are always coming up short. Why I don't get why her knives do a heck of whole lot more damage than the arrows do? More understood it when we lost a man at our station but it still seems off."
The casual reference to combat we'd been engaged in provided stark reminder of purpose behind all these calculations and negotiations—not merely resource management, but survival against demons attacking Ariarose's mind.
"Yes. Sugar why do your blades keep falling short?" Rupert asked, tone curious rather than critical.
"It's the head I took on because we do the most damage and always have. The center head in an odd dog has a minimum of triple to quad the hitpoints of the other heads shielded or not and as long and also extra guarded by a magical barrier called the Virontah. That head demands some special work to kill it easier and it's a good thing I'm fighting it. Virontah is tricky very tricky. I also pick the heavy head on the even dogs to strike first as getting virontah is in that one. Technically, virontah can be in any head but they put it on the biggest head as they can only pick one. So, they pick their head with highest chance of survival. After all you must destroy all heads at the same time. Believe it or not virontah is what grows the heads on a dog, but as long as its not growing heads it also has a boosing ability to ONE head."
Rupert tapped his hand to his head, "I get it, Stomina. Virontah is sort of the chemistries that make speedy head growth and increases the chance of splits." (I get it, let me gather a little strength looking at you okay now back to business. Virontah is sort of the chemistries that make speedy head growth and increases the chance of splits.)
"First I attack the Virontah, this drops its ability to grow heads as fast, makes it recede, and also reduces hitpoints being boosted to the heavy head. Single headed dog Virontah is nothing to worry about, but as it gets up to more heads their ability to produce virontah grows exponentially and becomes more problematic. In truth, we'd be lucky dogs never split just straight on attacking. But you have me able to move knives inside a brain and well 'delay' deployment." She winked, "you sort of attack it 'below' the brain and then hit above the brain. Not accomplishable with the knife exploding on contact. But you still attack it by blowing it all up."
Rupert chuckled, "And so my Stardrall gets her knives all under that shit film and annihilates it, but of course it demands an extra round on that head sometimes." (And so my darling soul mate gets her knives all under that shit film and annihilates it, but of course it demands an extra round on that head sometimes.)
"Yeah love, and if I didn't get Virontah and instead hit brain, you can guess what will come out is going to actually be split heads and virontah is now even a bigger problem. As we move up dogs getting virontah needs addressed. If we were out in the world our fight would be tougher well with any weapons but the ones I'd craft specifically to have delayed explosive capabilities."
"Good to know and now I won't be asking you to switch to arrows when your form permits as for certain want that center head getting the high-class damage of the knives. So, my wife is throwing troktroni blades. What do you say fellows?" (So, my wife is throwing thirty-three blades. What do you say fellows?)
"Sini hundred sini weituns," Stibbons calculated quickly. "If we have other guests she'll go through them fast and you know it. Better to have hers up there extra high Rupert." (Six hundred sixty pounds.)
The axe-wielder's assessment was clearly based on both observation and experience—another reminder that we'd been engaged in continuous combat for days within this mental realm.
"I was thinking the same figure, but I wanted to see what another thought." Rupert nodded in approval.
"Sini hundred sini, add laklani, and lani hundred is wunki, wunki. Now to include the elevator of woni tons of iron, which is woni thousand weituns, morippow lani, plus woni thousand weituns."
He bit his lip in concentration. (Six hundred sixty, add fifty-two, and five hundred is twelve, twelve. Now to include the elevator of ten tons of iron, which is twenty thousand pounds, times five, plus two thousand pounds.)
The chamber had grown warmer as our discussion continued, heat from distant forges seeming to intensify with our focus on planning despite them supposedly being at rest. But I smirked, a blacksmiths boiler seemed to stay hot during a day's usage even when gone to lunch. A bead of sweat traced a path down Malvur's temple, catching in his beard before it could drip onto the table.
"Now husband." Ariarose tapped her finger against the cup in front of her, catching Rupert's eye. The corners of her mouth curled upward as she glanced sideways at me. "Before you purchase all that iron ore, remember what your friend Merlin can do." Her marble-like skin caught the light as she leaned forward, one eyebrow arched conspiratorially.
"What's that?" He looked up, eyebrow raised in curiosity and then grabbed her drink and drank it down. "Ariarose white milk form my lady please rather than alcohol."
In front of her was a clean mug that was simple in design. "He can cast Iron Mountain, which drops pure-grade iron bars on the ground. When we recycle his bricks, we keep them if you simply reset the limits on our threshold. Thresholds can be set by ore or across the board. I'd reset them across the board then raise the limits on things you're going to use a lot, like copper, coal, iron, and galgimac. Yes, he gets a cleanup charge, and that sucks for him."
Her suggestion surprised me. I hadn't thought that my spell could be used as a mining technique within her mental realm, even though the logic was sound. The realization that I could contribute beyond combat brought a smile to my face. "His cost savings would add up on his arrows but not to the level we need for iron. Husband, take turns with him as you will earn money on sold bars at hini percent. We can add a line to your book specifically for Iron Sales that were paid, and that will make it easy to show him the line and split the profit afterward. Tell me to clear the line to let it reaccumulate. Cleanup is a hundredth credit when it's fully recycled material. Note that the trashed bars are sini credit, as those are garbage and hazardous material. Merlin, to fill the iron shortage, it's not a huge expense, but it would add up to a nice chunk of profit for both of you. Thank you for the drink husband." He handed her the cup and smiled. (Husband, take turns with him as you will earn money on sold bars at nine percent. Note that the trashed bars are half a credit, as those are garbage and hazardous material.)
"You are not about to drink scolin. But that sounds like a good plan Charimo." The practical solution she'd devised benefited everyone involved—town got needed resources, Rupert saved on import costs, and I found a way to reduce the expense of my spell. The sleek efficiency of the arrangement reflected a mind used to solving complex problems. "That is if your willing and I can easily help with the cleanup and split the iron profit. Merlin, are you willing to do that, man?" (But that sounds like a good plan you mean the world to me, and I cannot believe I am lucky enough to hold you in my arms.)
"Of course, I am that way so we can focus on other bars. She needs building supplies too. We cannot forget that," I replied eagerly. "Rupert set the maximum threshold evenly, and I fill it up to capacity. Since we've got a way to charge me, I'll orange up. I know it's gemstones, but they will be worth their weight. I am sure the iron bars I've cleaned up kept having to be exported."
The opportunity to contribute in this way was appreciated. Although I had been mainly focused on combat since entering Ariarose's mind, this economic solution offered a way to help with the broader needs of her mental realm.
Ariarose nodded approvingly. "It was great funds for the city of course but I'd have rather kept the ore. Once I started throwing knives, I kept having to soul split and I tell you that chipmunk had to levitate the pickax." She rolled her eyes, gesture exaggerated to emphasize her point.
"She was a cute and delicate creature, like a woman should be." Malvur stated firmly. "She had no business in a mine shaft as no woman belongs there. Thankfully, you are never in the deep, dangerous shafts. Nah, you are always near the shored up-front shafts."
The dwarf's traditional views remained steady, with his tone suggesting this was simply the natural order of things rather than a deliberate slight. The beads in his beard softly clicked as he nodded to himself, affirming his own stance.
Rupert took a sharp breath. "My lady should never be in the mines. I do appreciate getting the dust until the moment I think about the fact she mined it. What's the maximum I can set the ores?"
"Uni weitun short of a million because of Sweetness," Ariarose replied. (One pound short of a million because of Sweetness.)
"Alright, we set all the ores to sini thousand weituns, as I assume I cannot export until a cap is reached." (Alright, we set all the ores to six thousand pounds, as I assume I cannot export until a cap is reached.)
Ariarose nodded in confirmation. "You are claiming the city needs that much, but the city will pay you for your efforts as it uses the ore to build things at hini percent and will increase the industry budget by vonkuni percent. We are already paying all the workers." (You are claiming the city needs that much, but the city will pay you for your efforts as it uses the ore to build things at nine percent and will increase the industry budget by forty-one percent. We are already paying all the workers.)
The complexity of the economic system she'd implemented impressed me. This wasn't merely a fantasy realm but a functioning society with budgets, taxes, and economic incentives—all maintained within her unconscious.
"Can I drop a threshold?" Rupert asked.
"Of course, as sometimes a threshold is needed for a big build done during your tenure but then the project is done. All men like leaving their mark on the town. A project started and finished during your tenure gives you props."
The notion of leaving legacy even within this mental realm seemed to appeal to Rupert. Perhaps thirty million years of existence had taught him value of creating something lasting, even in places as ephemeral as a mind.
"Like say a certain project you had in mind for the kids. If it is built during my tenure I get credit for it." Rupert's tongue protruded playfully between his teeth, a gesture almost boyish—an unexpected glimpse of youthfulness from the ancient Duke.
"Of course, you get a plaque and everything put up. If you want something more than a plaque, you might have to provide some credits, but it depends on how big the build is. This build for the kids is big enough for a statue with a plaque and a small water feature beside it. Note that it cannot be a naughty one!" She smiled with exaggerated emphasis on her final exclamation.
Her teasing brought a moment of levity to serious discussions, serving as a reminder of the complex relationship between them that included both the weighty responsibilities of rulership and the playful intimacy of lovers.
Malvur laughed heartily. "She has your number, Rupert, pegged right; she had to go and spell it out for you in a kids' park, and you can't commission something lewd."
The dwarf's laughter boomed through the chamber and rattled the beads in his beard. Rupert's shoulders relaxed visibly, and Ariarose's eyes crinkled at the corners. Even Colbio leaned back in his chair, one arm draped casually over its back. I noticed my own grip had loosened on my staff—the white-knuckle tension from when we'd first gathered around this table now just a memory.
"I do have more sense than that, and I am sure she was just teasing me. I look forward to making a lasting mark on this town." He spoke with genuine enthusiasm rather than mere politeness. "I'll have to give some fine thanks to Merlin in the plaque for the iron ore that helped us out of a jam and helped build the structures."
"Don't worry, Rupert. I'll contribute the maximum cap of bars before and after the event—call it my gift to the kids. That way, you can focus on the other materials, as I doubt such a project only requires iron." I smiled broadly, genuinely pleased by the opportunity. I really didn't mind capping out this city's bars as long as I got to leave my mark on it. I didn't need profit from it—I'd do it for free.
The prospect of contributing to something positive within Ariarose's mind—something that would benefit the mental inhabitants she'd created—held certain appeal. Perhaps it was the wizard in me, accustomed to building rather than merely destroying.
Rupert placed his order in fairy and I had no idea what he ordered as it was once more in fairy "Minastarall, kolindon getaron chet after buildon elevator." (My lady, we will get the copper after building the elevator.)
I might not have understood a word but that didn't mean I didn't get he was confident, quick, and was everything I want in a leader. There was no hesitation or second-guessing—just clear direction based on available information.
"Perfectly acceptable, we can build the huts from the hardware stores. I did max cap there too. I must build them now that I ate something and we've got the material. They won't begin coming until their homes are built for them."
Ariarose's practical approach to logistics reflected another facet of her nature—ability to move from theoretical planning to actual implementation without delay. Within her mental realm, she could manifest buildings with focused thought, though clearly at cost to her energy reserves.
Malvur chuckled knowingly. "It's a waste building troni huts that they will all come and just whine about paying rent. My lord, you just tell them they are free to move in with their brothers. We don't give a shit. But they still have to have that build started, as rules are rules. They will be for the next 'group,' as you will need a set of eighkfani houses. Most likely not all of them will be filled, and you can add just as many houses as weren't filled up." His pragmatic assessment was accompanied by a gesture that included imagined future dwellings, with thick fingers sketching their outlines in the air with surprising precision. (It's a waste building three huts that they will all come and just whine about paying rent. They will be for the next 'group,' as you will need a set of eighteen houses.)
"Sometimes one of you wants to live on your lonesome," Ariarose commented, her voice edged with frustration, suggesting she found the dwarfs' communal living arrangements unnecessarily restrictive.
"Yeah, when he's an idiot or has a bunch of kids needing lots of space. Just you and the misses you live in your dad's hut until the nursery is too big. Not that we have tons of children like fairies. But that is what perverse societies get. Too many people. Being alone is awful. Spending good money to live alone is a waste of fine resources, though having a bedroom to yourself is pretty great. I won't give that up I admit. But having a whole house to myself? That's insane," he shook his head emphatically, beads in his beard making a musical sound as he gestured.
Colbio grinned, "Boys in fairy town, they also have good sense, and make sure they pile a ton in their spaces. You need to do that as miners. Who the fuck wants to be a lone man at home."
I looked away as sometimes I liked solitude. They laughed then and said, "Wizards."
And with that, we left the dwarves and returned to the bus. Rupert watched the building construction with fascination as white light soared from her form, striking the structures as they materialized. He smiled with genuine appreciation. "It's amazing to watch Donallbarie. A full-on house constructed like that." (It's amazing to watch the woman that makes every moment blessed to heart, mind, body, and soul. A full-on house constructed like that.)
Beams of white light shot from Ariarose's fingertips, splintering into thousands of luminous threads that wove themselves into walls, windows, and doorways. The skeleton of a dwelling appeared first, then filled with substance—wood grain forming under my gaze, glass materializing in window frames within small breaths. Through the window, I saw furniture standing in fine testament to the majesty of her creation abilities. In the physical world, such a creation would require months of labor, yet here it happened in heartbeats. I watched her eyes, focused yet distant, and wondered what cities might exist beyond these hills, what oceans or mountains she had dreamed into being in corners of her mind we had yet to discover.