"In the fourth year after the fall of Stormwind,
The Horde began its northern offensive against the forces of the future Systems Alliance.
It simultaneously launched two major attacks.
The first began from the territory of Blackrock Mountain,
Moving north toward the Dwarven holdings in Khaz Modan.
Bypassing the newly inhabited Grim Batol,
They seized the coastal and other minor fortresses,
Severing the connection between the two main defensive lines of Khaz Modan,
Thereby placing Ironforge and Grim Batol under siege.
The second was a naval offensive from the ruins of Stormwind,
Which headed north, taking the islands of Zul'Dare, Tol Barad, and Crestfall,
Establishing major naval bases there.
Thus began the Second War."
"And this is your new invention?"
The skepticism in Sara's voice was palpable in the air. It poured out like a viscous mass, drenching me and my inventive skills in contempt and undisguised mockery.
"Blast you, woman!" Despite her cute appearance, a real shrew hid behind that facade. But! I could tolerate her anytime, turning it all into a joke and not taking offense at childish taunts... in everything except my calling! "Show some respect, or I swear by your great-grandmother's breeches, I'll thrash you like a wayward child!"
"Yeah, keep dreaming..." Snorting and tilting her neat little nose higher, Sarochka folded her elegant arms under her chest, and only after a few seconds did the meaning of my words fully sink in. "Wait, whose great-grandmother?"
To the sound of Sarandiel's angry teeth-grinding and her sister's giggling, I returned to my work—my new project, my new brainchild that would conquer the celestial expanses!
Not the small flying machines and autogyros whose designs the pilots had shown me, but a true flying fortress, destined to instill fear in the enemies of Khaz Modan and all honest Dwarves!
"I'll fly around the whole world in it..." Images of my creation conquering the skies flickered before my eyes. No longer would the Griffons of the Wildhammer Clan and the dragonhawks of the Elves rule the clouds! "From the distant goblin Booty Bay in the south, amidst the thick jungles, I'll fly to your tiny little kingdom hidden among twigs and stumps."
"That was rude, Master Rodgirn..."
"I'll stick an arrow in your eye right now!"
Guess for yourselves which line belonged to whom, but I didn't care. I was creating, fashioning a true miracle. My hands fluttered over blueprints and parts; my eyes stared fixedly ahead, sometimes until they were red and tearing, watching the process without blinking.
I wanted to etch this moment in my memory. To keep it in my head forever...
A gust of sea wind ruffled my hair and nearly blew away a couple of important papers, but Sarochka, despite her grumbling and attitude, managed to catch them mid-air. With a grateful nod from me, she put them back in place, blushing sweetly.
To conduct the tests, we had to head far away from the city, for today I would be doing something no self-respecting Dwarf would ever repeat...
I was going to experiment with goblin developments, reworking that techno-heresy into something digestible for normal sentient beings.
I had to try very hard to strike a deal with one of the goblin Cartels, but the corrupt shorties didn't let me down—and a month later, a full-fledged zeppelin arrived in my workshop. A simple gondola, without frills or elegance, and a massive red balloon made of thick fabric.
I studied and tinkered with it day and night, missing Anduin Lothar's departure for home. Apparently, he had stopped by to say goodbye, along with his pet Paladins, but being engrossed in my work, I merely waved them off with a few words, diving headlong back into the process.
It was incredibly difficult to decipher the goblin blueprints—or rather, those excuses for childish scribbles—and even harder to realize how it all worked, because theoretically, it shouldn't...
"But look how it turned out! It flies, blast those Khagam menu penu Garapdul! (Goblin spawn)."
But the work was progressing. If only a couple of intrusive pointy-eared girls didn't follow me around like mother cats with a kitten, everything would be just fine. As I understood it, it was Lothar—may his beardless father have the hiccups—who asked them to look after me and stay close just in case.
"What 'just in case,' for heaven's sake? What could possibly happen?"
How many times had I asked myself that question? But the task was too fascinating, quickly leading me astray, making me forget logic and simply bicker out of habit with the pair of beautiful sisters, tossing lewd jokes their way and then escaping to work, hiding from Sarochka's righteous wrath.
And now, as soon as I returned to my project, the stubborn girl stood at a respectful distance, drilling me with her gaze and fiercely clutching her sword, while her older sister gently massaged her shoulders, calming her and whispering kind words into her long ear.
"Oh, if only you'd press against me like that, Narandiel, heh-heh..."
A blush covered my cheeks, and a stupid smile spread across my lips as my gaze drifted toward the upper assets of the elder Elf. Noticing the direction of my look, Sara tried to lung toward me, but Nara's strong hands held her back, giving me a reproachful look.
Shrugging my shoulders in apology, I tried not to look at the younger one's furious snarl, which was more suited to some demon or a man-eating Troll who had finally caught its prey.
"Mad girl... Alright, time is pressing, and with a beard like mine, I shouldn't be wasting time on nonsense."
Yes, as unpleasant as it was to admit, I had blown all my deadlines, and King Thoras had rightfully begun to ask questions, to which I had only one answer: "It will be ready soon."
I didn't blame Trollbane, considering how much money he had spent on my whims, but friendship is friendship and a contract must be fulfilled—and once a Dwarf gives his word, he keeps it!
"Whatever it costs me!" Shouting unexpectedly for everyone, I startled both my assistants and the pair of pointy-eared sisters. "Tim, spread it out, let's try to fill it!"
"Is it... Your Inventiveness, isn't it a bit early?" The doubts of my loyal assistant were understandable. At first glance, the creation didn't inspire confidence, and the fact that it was a former goblin craft only made matters worse. "We checked everything, of course, but who knows?"
"Don't you start with me, Menu shirumund Mump (Beardless Troll)," ignoring the sulking assistant who had managed to learn the simplest words and curses in the ancient tongue of my kin, I quickly climbed into the large gondola, which was five times the size of the goblin one. It looked less like a gondola and more like a small river sloop. "Start the preparations for takeoff! The longer we stall, the more heretical thoughts will crawl into our heads! And your head, Tim, certainly isn't designed for that."
Suppressing a smile at my loyal assistant's grumbling, I began to slowly feed gas into the balloon, checking the tightness of the fasteners and all the patches covering the pipes along their entire length as I went.
My rough hands slid quickly over the rubber, feeling for the slightest flaws, but these were all trifles incapable of stopping us from fulfilling our plan! Meanwhile, the metallic keel finally appeared—the spine and load-bearing part of our creation. The gas continued to flow, and soon the gondola began to lift off the ground, the cigar-like shape of the zeppelin stretching to its full capacity, taking the form I had intended.
The ropes holding us to the ground tightened; a couple of them even snapped, knocking over the careless laborers Tim had recruited from among his friends, but judging by the cursing and laughter, nothing particularly terrible had happened, and the test could continue.
Stopping the gas supply, I closed all the hatches, disconnected the pipes, and laid them along the side. The gondola itself was shaped like a ship, as it was the most convenient and familiar form for most of the workers.
Dropping the rope ladder, I didn't wait for the first assistant or any of his subordinates to climb up. Instead, my legs carried me to the control cabin, where various gauges on the instrument panel were jumping like crazy.
Gnome developments, which I was familiar with firsthand.
The sensors were simply going wild, causing a fleeting emotion of fear in the first moment, which ran down my spine in the form of goosebumps and a lone trail of sweat. But first one, then a second, a third, and finally every indicator normalized, signaling that the pressure, altitude, and position of the zeppelin in the air were stable and within normal limits.
Flicking my nail against the most nervous dials, I grumbled satisfactorily into my beard, feeling my lips stretch into a smile of their own accord.
Seeing nothing but my goal before me, I pushed through the gathered onlookers and those not assigned to the work and dashed to the edge of the railing, pressing my whole body against it.
The barriers on the sides were double: the first meter was solid wood, followed by metal handrails so that tall humans wouldn't tumble overboard when the airship made a sharp turn.
My eyes quickly scanned the ground and the ropes holding us; with the significant weight increase, they had sagged slightly, but everything was going according to plan.
I waved my hand behind my back to where Tim had taken his place in the helmsman's cabin.
"Start cranking on the count of three!" A murmur ran through the test crew. A mixture of anticipation, fear, and excitement gripped them, as it did me. "One! Two! THREE!"
A dozen men, in a single burst of effort, yanked the ropes attached to the propellers, starting the massive blades that would help this giant rise into the air. At the same time, Tim shouted the start commands from the cabin.
A small trick to help start the engines faster, though it shouldn't be done too often.
A strong wind rose around the zeppelin as the propellers began to work at full power. The grass was flattened, and the laborers were forced to cover their faces, holding their hats on their heads.
It felt as though a real hurricane had begun, carrying us into the distant sky.
At my command, everyone on the ship took their positions, and the cables holding us were cut one by one, allowing the machine to soar upward.
Now the hardest part began—balancing, maintaining a single altitude while flying forward at a decent speed, which was the whole reason I had decided to create this fat-bottomed monster in the first place.
Work unfolded on the deck. People dashed in all directions, repeatedly double-checking the ropes, the pressure in the balloon, clearing the path, and cursing each other for all they were worth, but...
We were flying. Higher and higher, already rising to the height of the tallest towers of the human kings' castles. Dozens of meters were left behind, and only now did I dare to look over the side, watching the receding ground, which grew smaller with every second, revealing vast expanses to us.
"Stop engines," but for now, it was too early to fly beyond the clouds. Today we needed to check how the zeppelin held in the air after my modifications. "Cease altitude gain, reduce RPM, slowly, literally one by one!"
My shout brought silence to the deck, and while Tim slowly moved the lever, I peered at the ground, pulling a notched spyglass from my tunic. I found the nearest landmark in the form of Tol Barad—the island fortress of Stromgarde, which served to defend the kingdom from the sea and protect its shipping lanes from pirates.
Long minutes of waiting seemed to stretch into an eternity until finally, the island stopped receding, and we halted at a certain altitude, circling Tol Barad along the coast of the continent.
"Excellent! Tim, record all your actions and write them in the notebook..." Breaking off mid-sentence, I cast an apologetic glance at my offended assistant, who was looking my way with feigned hurt. "Fine, dictate it to someone so they can write it down."
Not dwelling on the chuckles, my gaze wandered over the surrounding lands, taking in everything and everyone, unable to stop even for a moment, like a child who had received a new toy. I wasn't alone in my childishness, though; only those assigned to posts and taught discipline and responsibility by me hung around gloomily in the center of the deck near the instruments and engines. The rest of the crew and a couple of unplanned guests pressed close to the railings, taking in the breathtaking views from a bird's-eye perspective.
"You know, I didn't believe until the very end that you could grasp the happiness of our feathered friends, but this..."
Trailing off mid-sentence, Sarandiel stood beside me, crossing her arms over her chest and trying not to look me in the eye. The girl was hiding a blush and now stubbornly tilted her chin, projecting an air of disinterest, though it was obvious at first glance how her eyes burned with delight and anticipation.
Unlike her, the elder Elf didn't hide her joy. Closing her eyes, she smiled happily, tilting her face to the wind, enjoying the sun's rays and the light gusts that tossed her golden locks aside.
"Stunning," Nara inhaled deeply and let out a long, stirring exhale. "Master Rodgirn, this is simply magnificent, and the most wonderful thing is that there isn't that stench and noise like from the contraptions of your kin."
Like a thief caught red-handed, I hid all my emotions behind a smile.
"Better not tell her that if anyone is unlucky enough to be behind the zeppelin, they'll likely die from the abundance of emitted gases and vapors."
My hands gripped the spyglass again, hoping to shake off the intrusive Elves and not continue this conversation full of uncomfortable questions, but the younger one pointed her finger somewhere toward the horizon, drawing everyone's attention.
"Sister, Fatty, look over there," ignoring my displeased look, Sara squinted and leaned closer, as if hoping she could see better. "What is that on the horizon?"
At first, I thought the girl's question was a trick and she wanted to mock me or my kin again, since Khaz Modan lay across the bay from Stromgarde. Already sensing that some nasty joke was about to land, I raised the spyglass and froze in that position with my mouth hanging open...
My hair instantly became damp with sweat, and a chill ran down my spine; my palms shook with hatred and the force with which I gripped the unfortunate instrument. Realization pierced my brain instantly, and there was no doubt about what was happening on the other shore—and soon the same would happen to Tol Barad.
A fire was raging on the coast of Khaz Modan, right over the fortress of Dun Modr, which protected the Thandol Span. Bonfires blazed, throwing black plumes of smoke into the sky, which grew denser with every second. They rose above the mountains and forests, notifying all their neighbors of what had happened, showing that something very terrible had occurred, and I guessed what...
"We need to warn Thoras, send messengers to Lordaeron and the other neighbors."
My eyes found Narandiel's face, and now the girl didn't look like her usual silly self. Her hardened face peered intently into the distance in search of answers.
"I'll drop you off on the shore," my body moved on autopilot, double-checking the ropes, pipes, and cables of the Beer Lord as I prepared the zeppelin for a turn. "I think you'll reach the city faster on your own two feet."
Simply nodding at my words, Nara began whispering into her sister's ear, speaking in their native tongue. Her quick, sharp words contrasted sharply with the usual image I had formed in my head.
Having settled the matter with the Elves, I peered through the spyglass again, searching for new clues.
Casting a glance at the human fortress, I saw soldiers running about, pointing toward the fire raging on the horizon, while some of them pointed out into the open ocean.
My spyglass instantly swung that way, and a second later, the most foul and choice Dwarven cursing rolled across the deck.
"...Everyone to your positions! Fast, fast, fast! Turn the vessel, we're flying to Stromgarde! There's no more time to wait!"
People scrambled across the deck, while I moved to the other side, taking a comfortable position and peering through clenched teeth at the open water, where hundreds of ships of a shape unfamiliar to me were sailing toward Tol Barad, yet with perfectly recognizable distinctive features.
Tall and dense constructions, heavy rigging and draft. Powerful shipboard weapons, a multitude of flags, skulls, and braziers right on the deck, but most importantly—drums. The beat of thousands of drums, favored by all sorts of savages and bastards whose tusks grew larger than normal.
And the banners... Scarlet banners fluttering in the wind.
Massive vessels, looking more like floating fortresses, moved slowly forward while their much more maneuverable and faster kin overtook them from all sides.
War horns cut through the air, and even from this distance, I heard all the cacophony created by the army of Orcs, Trolls, and Goblins sailing here.
I imagined those slouching apes climbing higher, brandishing their savage weapons and shouting guttural cries toward the fortress meeting them. Tol Barad would not withstand the power crashing down upon it; it would fall sooner or later, opening a passage for the brutes into the entire inner sea and the shores of Gilneas, Lordaeron, and Stromgarde. They would swoop down upon defenseless settlements like a Dwarven sickle upon fresh wheat, mowing down everything in their path.
"This cannot be allowed. At any cost."
"What are you standing around for!? Hurry, the lives of too many depend on us," rushing to the engine, I ignored the questions and shouts of the crew and the Elves, stripping away all limiters and pushing the power to the maximum. "TIM! GIVE IT EVERYTHING!"
My loyal assistant didn't need to be told twice. As if from a good kick, the zeppelin lurched sideways, slowly turning toward the Stromgardian capital. We were gradually losing altitude, but the speed we gained would have made any horse envious, even the strongest stallion.
With kicks and cuffs, I spurred the frozen crew, who were unable to tear their eyes away from the advancing wave of the bastards' ships. Many didn't even get up from the floor, clutching the edge, eyes fixed on the horizon, but a Dwarven fist is the best cure for any hesitation! Though I, too, tormented myself with thoughts.
"How did it come to this? Did Magni lose? What of Ironforge? But there were no reports of major battles, only small skirmishes increasing near Grim Batol! How can this be, ancestors take me!"
Cursing and sinking into my own thoughts, I nevertheless continued to perform my duties as captain, though I was admittedly a bit weak in that role.
"Need to find some crazy sailor who'll agree to trade water for air."
Leaving a note in my head, I returned to the cabin, deciding to occupy myself with work that would surely engross me. Checking and recording all instrument readings, refining various details, and much more.
Anything to avoid thinking about the new war that had suddenly crashed upon the Eastern Kingdoms.
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: patreon.com/Granulan