“What other choice do we have?” Igni retorted. “Fight the Darkbrood? As if that’s helped us! Twelve failed crusades and we’ve learned nothing but that we can’t stop them! Or should we evacuate to the surface instead? Life up there is hard, Councillors, and I have only survived because of my friends and because I only had myself to care for. But the dwarven people have no allies on the surface, and your wounded, unfit and invalid outnumber the able-bodied. Nor do you know anything of surface life. And let us not forget that the strength of the Slaine Theocracy is untouched and they will see this mass exodus as an invitation to slaughter us all. Staying down here is certain death, and so is moving up there!”
Igni panted. Why was he saying this? He felt like he was in the grip of something greater than himself, some supreme being writing a script which he was merely reciting.
“Either way, we die, if not in body, then as a people. The dwarves without the Stone are not dwarves at all!”
“Then what would you have us do, Citizen Igni? You were asked to bring hope but instead all you preach is despair!”
“Swear allegiance to the Sorcerer-King, and then ask him to aid his loyal subjects,” Igni said simply.
“I do not say this as a man grasping at straws. Consider; the Sorcerer-King is a monster who commands other monsters. He chose to become a King — that means he wants to rule. Else he would not have bothered claiming E-Rantel, but instead slaughtered everything in his path. Nor is he picky in his choice of minions. I’ve seen some of his vassals — lizardmen who bear the brand of Nazarick — building statues in his honor. They say he conquered them, and then unified the tribes, a feat no lizardman has ever been able to accomplish in their history. They serve one of his lieutenants, known as the Glacial God of War in their tongue. And then there was his pronouncement to the Kingdom: ‘Tell them I will be merciful to those who submit respectfully.’.”
The Council Chamber was struck dumb by this revelation. Slowly, the whispers filtered back in, but Gorgus and Igni remained silent, looking at each other.
Finally, the hubbub died down, and Gorgus spoke in a quiet voice.
“Citizen Igni. Are you seriously asking the dwarven people to swear their loyalty to the Sorcerer-King of Nazarick?”
Igni took a deep breath.
“Councillor Gorgus, I have never been