Dwargonia, Hearthguard Cairn
Levi's helicopter touched down on the Hearthguard Cairn airfield, its rotors whipping up thick clouds of coal-scented dust. Dwargonian "airports" were nothing like Murican runways—no long concrete strips, no soda-can-shaped control towers, no blinking lights guiding the aircrafts.
Instead, the dwarves had carved colossal docking caverns straight into the cliffside. Hanging tunnel-bays opened into the rock like gaping maws, where brass-and-steel zeppelins drifted in and out with the calm confidence.
The SH-60 Seahawk—borrowed from the Murican Navy—did not blend in.
Dozens of dwarves stopped whatever they were doing to stare. Fingers pointed. Beards twitched. All of them gawked at the strange flying machine that chopped the air instead of politely floating through it.
Waiting at the platform was Ambassador Mara, flanked by several Marine Security Guards dressed in carefully neutral civilian clothes.
"Welcome to Dwargonia, Mr. Minister," Mara greeted, his smile stretched thin enough to qualify as structural steel.
"Nice to see you too, Mara. And wow…" Levi replied, barely looking at him. His eyes tracked a passing airship with open fascination. "This place is incredible."
Brass airships slid past the cavern mouth, pistons pumping, valves hissing, hulls gleaming under crystal light. Levi's eyes sparkled like he'd just discovered a new category of toys.
"The dwarves feel exactly the same way about your helicopter," Mara said. "But, sir, we should move quickly. Your arrival has already attracted too much attention."
Levi glanced around at the staring crowd. "Yeah, I can feel it. I assume the lack of a welcoming committee means they're… not thrilled with us."
"That would be accurate."
They moved toward the VIP elevator. The platform shuddered ominously before beginning its descent—straight down, plunging for several kilometers with all the reassurance of dwarven engineering and absolutely no visible safety rails.
When the doors finally opened, a Dwargonian diplomatic car awaited them.
It was an open-roof, four-seat luxury vehicle straight out of a 1920s Earth museum—if the museum had been run by people who believed brass made everything better. Gears decorated every surface. Polished pipes traced the frame. At the front sat a miniature locomotive engine, complete with a puffing chimney that belched smoke with stubborn pride.
Levi stared.
"Oh my," he said reverently. "This is a beautiful car. I want it."
Mara rubbed his temples. "Sir. Please. Not the time. Even if they'd be flattered that a demon duke admires their craftsmanship, I doubt that alone will calm them."
"True. True." Levi climbed in anyway, tapping the chimney with interest. "I should make them envy us, not the other way around." He paused. "Though this thing smokes like a demon with lung problems."
"Artificially enhanced coal," Mara replied flatly. "Very efficient. Very dirty. And strictly domestic-only."
"I see." Levi leaned back, finally looking at Mara properly. "…And speaking of dirty, you look like you haven't slept or washed in ages."
"Not since their ship blew up," Mara said. "Angry calls. Angry meetings. Angry dwarves." He exhaled. "Do you have any updates from our side?"
"No," Levi said. "We're just as clueless as they are about what caused the explosion."
That did not improve Mara's expression.
The convoy rolled out of the tunnel, and Hearthguard Cairn revealed itself in full.
A vast underground metropolis stretched before them, illuminated by glowing crystals and steam lamps. Gothic towers fused seamlessly with exposed gears and roaring vents. Brass pipes coiled around stone walls like veins, while chimneys spat smoke into the cavern's vaulted ceiling. Families in Victorian-style clothing crowded the streets, their lives unfolding beneath drifting blimps that cruised lazily overhead.
Levi let out a long breath. "I've seen pictures. But seeing Hearthguard Cairn in person…" He smiled. "This is spectacular. I guess this is how other diplomats feel when they visit Murica."
"I thought the same thing when I first arrived here," Mara replied.
The convoy continued deeper into the city, gears turning, steam hissing, and every pair of dwarven eyes quietly looking them as they pass.
---
Dwargonia Grand Fortress
At the heart of the city stood a massive fortress, its thick, time-worn walls bearing the scars of centuries. Once, it had been Dwargonia's final bastion against ancient demon invasions. Now, it housed their entire government.
Levi and Mara stood before its great doors, flanked by soldiers encased in steam-powered armor. Pistons hissed softly as the guards shifted their weight, their expressions hidden behind reinforced visors.
"Sir," Mara murmured, leaning closer, "a reminder. Clan Leader Nelfilyn Bluespire will be present."
"And?" Levi replied.
"Her husband was the ambassador killed on the ship."
Levi let out a low whistle. "Right. Wonderful."
The towering doors creaked open.
Inside lay a vast vaulted hall. Five podiums stood in a semicircle, each occupied by a clan leader. None of them looked pleased. Stone-faced, arms folded, eyes sharp—this was not a welcoming committee.
Mara stepped forward, voice steady. "Honored council members. As requested, I present the Murican Minister of Foreign Affairs, Leviathan."
Levi bowed politely, hands folded behind his back, posture immaculate.
Clan Leader Silverfist spoke first. "Have you discovered what happened to our ship?"
Levi inhaled slowly. "Unfortunately, Council Member Silverfist, our investigations require more time to investigate."
SLAM!
Dwordoug Axebreaker smashed his podium with a gauntleted fist. The impact echoed through the hall.
"Demons!" he roared. "We trusted you with trade! We trusted you with the Atlas! And now she lies at the bottom of your waters—along with ninety-two of our kin! Including an elder of the Bluespire clan!"
All eyes turned to Nelfilyn. She sat rigid, jaw clenched, eyes red but unblinking.
"Tell us," Axebreaker growled, "why should we let you remain in our lands after such disgrace?"
"We regret the tragedy deeply," Mara said quickly. "But we ask for more time—"
"MORE TIME!?" Axebreaker rose to his full—though admittedly modest—height. "Our people demand answers!"
"Axebreaker," Orroth Sandbeard urged, "compose yourself. But… Ambassador Mara, it is true that our citizens will not accept delays."
"Especially if this was an attack," Calgirra Oakenbrew added grimly. "It would be the first against Dwargonia in three centuries. Our largest merchant ship sunk. Ninety-one dead… including a clan leader's spouse."
Sniff.
A sound broke the silence.
…Sniff…
The council turned.
It was Levi.
Tears streamed freely down his face.
"It is our fault…" Levi choked out. "Those lost souls believed in us."
Mara blinked.
Oh boy. He's doing a performance.
Levi stepped forward, voice trembling but strong enough to carry. "They believed… in coexistence. In a world where every race could stand together without fear."
The clan leaders exchanged glances. Even Axebreaker hesitated.
"They boarded that ship because they believed in that future," Levi continued. "To welcome us into it. And tragedy struck them for that faith."
Axebreaker's scowl deepened. "Whaat are you—"
"Let him speak," Silverfist ordered.
Levi continued, his voice trembling just enough to sound on the verge of breaking.
"We Muricans grieve as well. For the ship. For the souls beneath the water. And to honor them, we offer full compensation—for the vessel, its cargo, and for each victim's family."
Axebreaker sputtered. "W–Wha—"
"No, no," Levi cut in quickly, raising his hands as if warding off the accusation. "I know. I know this may seem insulting. I know gold cannot weigh against a life."
He swallowed, visibly steadying himself.
"But we only wish to lighten the burden of grieving families. So please… grant us time. Let us uncover the truth behind the tragedy that extinguished the souls of ninety-one dwarves and the ambassador…"
He paused. Thinking.
Mara leaned in, whispering to him. "Togar Bluespire."
Levi straightened, eyes widening with renewed resolve.
"TOGAR BLUESPIRE!"
The name echoed through the hall.
The council wavered.
Then Levi slowly lifted his hands.
From his palms emerged ninety-two glowing orbs—soft, warm lights like drifting fireflies. They floated outward, spreading through the hall, weaving gently between stone pillars and podiums.
"When I was a demon child in a land of war," Levi said quietly, "my mother taught me to do this whenever we lost someone dear."
The chamber fell silent.
The orbs pulsed softly, bathing the hall in a serene glow. No one spoke.
One firefly drifted toward Nelfilyn Bluespire, hovering inches from her face.
She stared at it, lips trembling.
"Oh… Togar…" she whispered as tears finally fell.
The fireflies rose.
They all gathered.
Merging into a single, luminous sphere above the council floor.
Then—
Fwooom.
The orb burst gently, showering the hall with sparkling light. Tiny motes drifted downward, settling like a blessing over stone and steel alike.
"So please," Levi said softly, lowering his hands, "let us honor the wishes of the departed… by preserving the friendship between our two nations."
Silence.
Heavy.
Moved.
The clan leaders exchanged hesitant glances.
Finally, Orroth Sandbeard stepped forward. "I, Orroth Sandbeard, propose that Dwargonia grant Murica two weeks' time to present a proper answer. If you fail… our trade agreement and diplomatic ties will end."
"Aye," Silverfist said.
"Aye," Oakenbrew followed.
"Nay," Axebreaker spat, arms crossed.
"…Aye," Nelfilyn whispered.
"The ayes have it," Sandbeard declared. "And we expect you to return personally with the answer, Minister Leviathan."
"I shall," Levi replied, bowing deeply.
Mara exhaled with relieve for the first time.
---
The convoy rolled away from the fortress in silence.
"I'm guessing Sir Mammon never approved compensation," Mara said dryly.
"Of course not. Improvised," Levi replied. "How'd you like the performance?"
"I've never seen that one before. New theme?"
"I got the inspiration after watching one of Belphy's movies—Grave of the Demon Fireflies."
Mara snorted. "The firefly lingering in front of Council Member Bluespire was a nice touch."
"Heh," Levi said. "Theatrics matter."