Deep beneath the mountains, in a hall carved from black granite, representatives of the four most powerful dwarven kingdoms had gathered. The massive walls of the hall were adorned with intricately carved bas-reliefs depicting noble ancestors who had waged wars over treasures and lands. Thick bronze lanterns cast flickering light over the ornate tables where the rulers of the wealthiest, most influential, and yet most greedy beings in the world sat.
Torgrim Ironbeard — the king of the Northern Kingdom, known for his wealth and hatred of humans, wore a thick golden crown and several heavy rings on his thick fingers.
Grudrek Stonehammer — lord of the Western Mines, a master of siege machines, harsh and uncompromising, had the look of a warrior, not a merchant.
Dorvald Silverhand — king of the Eastern Lands, who controlled the only silver mines and managed all trade between humans and dwarves.
Rungard Scaled Shield — ruler of the Underground Kingdom, the smallest but most treacherous of the dwarven realms, who gathered power through secret deals and spy networks.
— "You've gathered us, but what's the point?" mumbled Torgrim, holding a goblet of the finest dwarven honey mead. "The human king is dead. And what does it matter to us?"
— "Fool!" growled Grudrek Stonehammer, slamming his heavy hand onto the table. "Trade with humans, resources, political deals! All of it is now under threat. We can't just sit here and wait for the situation to resolve itself!"
— "Ha! What, are you craving war now?!" snorted Dorvald Silverhand. "If I listened to fools like you, my silver mines would've been burning in the flames of human feuds long ago. We must play it smarter."
— "You always play for your own pockets, Dorvald!" spat Rungard. "I know you've already sent gifts to the new human king to secure your trade contracts! What about the rest of us? You want to take all the trade for yourself?"
— "And what will you do about it, Scaled Shield?" Dorvald folded his arms across his chest. "Fight? Ha! We all know no dwarf will go to war while their treasure chests are full of gold! You all argue, but no one is willing to make any sacrifices."
— "Enough!" roared Torgrim, slamming his fist on the table. "We're not here to snap at each other like dogs! We need to figure out what to do next."
— "We need to wait," Rungard spoke coldly with confidence. "All these humans, elves, demons — let them tear each other apart. Meanwhile, we'll count how much we can profit from it."
— "And just sit on our hands?" Grudrek clenched his fist. "While the world falls apart, we'll just watch?!"
— "Watch and count," Dorvald grinned slyly. "Grudrek, you've always been too impulsive. War — that's gold. But you know what brings even more gold? War without us."
— "Cowardly scoundrels..." muttered Stonehammer, but fell silent. He knew well that none of these greedy wretches would ever make sacrifices. They would wait until some destroyed the others, and only then would they come to collect the remains.
— "So, we don't interfere," Torgrim concluded, gripping his goblet. "But if there's an opportunity to gain more gold, land, or power — we'll be the first to take it."
— "Oh, we're always the first," Rungard replied sarcastically.
— "And what if it doesn't go as we expect?" asked Grudrek.
— "Then it will be even more beneficial for us," Dorvald smiled, raising his goblet. "While others pay with blood, we will pay with gold."
The rulers all laughed, each already plotting how to gain the most from it. Dwarves were no fools. They didn't fight unless it was profitable. They were just waiting. Waiting for the world to fall into their hands.
In the depths of the Hellish Continent, in a hall that seemed carved from the very darkness itself, a meeting of three demon kings was taking place. The mountains of obsidian and black marble formed the space, where ancient magic seemed to merge with the very essence of the demon sitting on the throne. The atmosphere was thick with energy that made even the strongest mortals tremble, for the three kings of demons had gathered.
Balomir the Bloody Horn — king of the Southern Demon Kingdom, known for his penchant for bloody feasts and war. His armor gleamed with dark ruby light, and his long horns emphasized his status as the master of battle legions.
Ezira Imla Soul — ruler of the Western Demon Kingdom, the only one among the three who preferred to play the long game, using poison, intrigue, and cunning rather than open warfare.
Maertzan the Dark Flame — King of the Eastern Kingdom, a cruel manipulator who had betrayed and discarded his allies more than once. He always remained in the shadows while others destroyed each other.
— "And once again, the humans have proven their weakness," growled Balomir the Bloody Horn, his voice like the roar of a volcano. "Their king is dead, and now a new tyrant has taken power. Isn't it time to invade their lands and destroy them all like the weaklings they are?"
— "Always so impatient, Balomir," purred Ezira, her voice like poisoned honey. "Don't you see? They will fall on their own, we just need to give them a little push. Why not make them destroy each other with their own hands?"
— "And what do you suggest?" grumbled Maertzan, his gaze piercing. "Are you already playing your own game behind our backs?"
— "We all play our games, Maertzan," Ezira replied with a smile, reclining in her high stone chair. "I've already sent orders to my agents to spread rumors among the new king's human vassals. Rumors of betrayal, of conspiracy. They'll start suspecting each other. All it takes is one spark for their kingdoms to ignite in flames."
— "And while you're starting sparks, I've already cast my shadow," Maertzan said coldly. "My people have infiltrated the kingdoms of the dwarves and elves. I'll make sure their rulers start suspecting the humans of plotting against them. If they destroy each other with their own hands, why should we fight?"
— "While you're scheming, I'm acting," growled Balomir, his fist pounding the throne. "I've already sent a gift to the new king — a demon avenger who will pose as his loyal advisor. He'll absorb all his secrets, and at the right moment, he'll rip the king's heart from his chest."
— "Ha! So, we all have a plan," Ezira slowly curled her long nails. "But who will gain the most from it? Now that's the question."
— "It's too early to say who will win," Maertzan lifted a goblet made of black glass, filled with burning wine. "But while everyone else is playing chess, I'm playing something else. I've positioned my pieces in such a way that when everyone else loses, I won't even need to step out of the shadows."
— "None of us will step out of the shadows until it's necessary," Ezira confirmed. "We won't fight on the battlefield until everyone else has weakened enough to fall before us."
— "Whether they be humans, elves, or dwarves," Balomir said, rising from his stone throne, "they will all become sacrifices on the altar of our future. It's just a matter of time."
The hall filled with shadows, and the magical flames flickered out for a moment. The demons fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. In a world where everyone weaves their own conspiracies, the one who conspires the longest will win.
Deep in the central part of the continent, far from the kingdoms of humans, demons, and dwarves, four great neutral cities stood — powerful trade hubs that flourished due to their position outside the reach of wars and alliances. These cities were free — they had no kings, only rulers who officially answered to no one... but this time, they had to gather.
Maren Gladius — ruler of the city of Velarion, famed for its golden vaults and strong guild influence. He was a cold, rational merchant, whose only interest was profit.
Lucretia Serran — governor of the city of Keyron, which stood on the edge of the continent and controlled the largest port. She knew that control over the sea routes gave her an advantage.
Tavarion Break — lord of the city of Mirradon, which boasted a powerful mercenary army. He was a brutal but clever politician, for whom only strength mattered.
Ragnar Claymore — ruler of Drachenfest, a city-guild that was the most powerful hub for mercenaries and adventurers on the continent. His guild controlled most strategic operations in the region.
— "Until now, we've stayed on the sidelines, and that's how we've thrived," said Maren Gladius, his tone cold and calculated. "But the situation has changed. The human king is dead, and the continent is shaking. This means... threats to business."
— "Or opportunities," Lucretia Serran leaned back in her chair, her eyes sparkling like the waves at sunset. "Those who strike deals now will define the future order of the world."
— "I'm not picking sides," growled Ragnar Claymore. "I don't want my city dragged into someone else's wars. You all understand that."
— "Then stay in your guild," barked Tavarion Break, slamming his fist on the table. "But if we don't decide now, someone else will decide for us. I won't allow foreign armies to take root on lands that belong to us."
Maren coldly scanned the room, realizing that three out of the four cities had already sided with the new king. He knew this because his agents had reported secret meetings between their emissaries and the people of the new monarch.
— "So, you've already made up your minds?" he asked, his voice dangerous as a sharp blade.
Lucretia raised her goblet of wine.
— "Simply put, some of us understand that the balance has shifted. We can't remain neutral forever," said Maren, his voice cold and calculating.
— "You treacherous snakes," grumbled Ragnar, casting a disgusted glance at them. "You've already sold your cities without even consulting me?"
— "No one has sold anyone," Tavarion shrugged. "We simply decided to act faster."
— "Money," Maren turned his gaze on them. "All your loyalty is bought and sold."
— "And yours isn't?" Lucretia smiled. "Don't pretend you're not playing your own game."
The silence in the hall lasted a few seconds before Maren stood up.
— "You've made your choice," his voice was emotionless. "And it will mark the end of our neutrality."
— "We simply chose the winner," said Tavarion. "And now you must decide too, Maren. Do you want to remain on the sidelines and become prey? Or do you want to join the new era?"
Maren paused for a moment. He hated this. He was being forced to play by someone else's rules. But he wasn't a fool. He knew when to adapt.
— "Fine," he finally spoke. "But I'll do it on my own terms."
— "Smart choice," Lucretia smiled with satisfaction.
— "So," Ragnar slowly exhaled, shaking his head. "It's decided. Our world will change."
— "And we've changed along with it, and whether you're part of it or not, that's the real question," confirmed Tavarion.
And from that moment on, the neutral cities were no longer neutral.