Gazel didn't speak immediately.
He walked a slow, deliberate circle around his throne dais, boots echoing softly against the stone. His beard twitched with a small sigh as his gaze shifted to the ceiling, where glowing runes shimmered faintly, casting golden light across the chamber.
"I knew," he finally said, voice low but steady, "that you'd come asking."
Rudra raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Gazel nodded, stepping toward the edge of the dais. "Nyvaris is… something spectacular. Anyone who's seen it — truly seen it — knows it's not just another city. The way Varvatos built it in the heart of the Jura Forest... it shouldn't even be possible."
Dolf and the others listened silently, their expressions drawn.
"The growth," Gazel continued, "the population, the harmony between magic and science — it all happened in such a short time. The city practically bloomed overnight. You don't just ignore a place like that."
Velgrynd folded her arms, her crimson hair flicking behind her like a fiery curtain. "That's exactly why we came to you. From what we know, you are the only king Varvatos deals with. Dwargon is the only kingdom he acknowledges."
"Aye," Gazel said, scratching his beard. "Because I showed him respect when others saw him as a curiosity. And because I never overstepped. It earned me… a sliver of trust."
He took a step closer, lowering his voice.
"There's a barrier around Nyvaris, one crafted by Varvatos himself. An absurd one — even our top mages couldn't begin to decipher it. But here's the key: if you carry any ill intent — even a whisper of aggression — the barrier will reject you. At best, you'll be flung back. At worst…" He paused, letting the implication hang.
"Erased," Rudra finished for him. "Yes. We know."
"That's why we're here today," Velgrynd added. "To come in through the front door, as honored guests. Not uninvited trespassers."
Gazel regarded them for a long moment. He exhaled deeply and moved toward a carved wooden table near the dais. With a gesture, a dwarven attendant brought forward a decanter of rich amber liquid and poured three crystal goblets.
Gazel pushed two forward. "Then let's talk like old warriors, not stiff emissaries. You've traveled far."
Rudra picked up the glass and took a sip. His eyes lit up instantly. "This… this is incredible. Smooth, aged just right. Hints of spice and wildfruit."
Velgrynd raised an eyebrow, sipped her own, and blinked. "Where is this from?"
Gazel chuckled. "Nyvaris. Varvatos gifted me a few barrels during the winter solstice."
Rudra coughed lightly. "Wait. Wait. You've been hoarding Nyvaris wine this whole time and now you bring it out?"
"I wasn't going to waste it on dwarven council meetings!" Gazel laughed.
Even Velgrynd cracked a smile. "I'll give you that one."
As the conversation continued, trays of food were brought in — seared beast meats, spiced breads, and molten cheese pots. It was a feast, modest in its arrangement but rich in flavor, the kind that reflected Dwargon's sturdy, honorable soul.
The mood shifted back toward business as Gazel leaned back and folded his arms.
"I'll try," he said seriously. "I'll reach out to Varvatos. But no promises."
Rudra leaned forward slightly. "Why?"
"Because," Gazel answered, "he's different. You've seen his city from afar, but you haven't felt his presence. And let's not forget — Velzard lives in Nyvaris."
"And Veldora," Dolf added helpfully from the side.
Velgrynd groaned. "She keeps wandering off into the strangest places…"
Gazel smirked, then continued. "Look. Even if I can arrange a meeting, only the two of you will be able to enter. That barrier won't allow even a single guard with you. Not even your shadow."
Rudra thought for a second, then gave a calm nod. "Understood. I accept those terms."
Gazel nodded once, satisfied.
"I'll leave for Nyvaris at dawn tomorrow. Give me two days. I'll bring you an answer — whether Varvatos will see you or not."
He raised his goblet.
"To old allies and impossible cities."
Rudra clinked glasses with him. "To trust, and the future."
Velgrynd lifted hers, a small grin forming. "And to getting that wine supply opened permanently."
They drank, the quiet hum of crystal echoing in the stone hall. Outside the fortress, the stars above Dwargon began to shimmer through the dusk, heralding the next turn in the story — one that would bring two great powers face to face in the heart of Nyvaris.
The golden light of morning filtered through the crisp mountain air, casting warm reflections across the polished stone of the royal balcony. King Gazel stood tall against the dawn, his thick cloak resting across one shoulder as he held a slender scroll — a magical conduit etched with ancient runes that shimmered faintly with energy.
He inhaled deeply, the cold air grounding him.
Behind him, Dolf stood silently, arms behind his back. "Your Majesty… are you certain you wish to speak with him directly this soon?"
Gazel didn't turn around. "It's not a matter of want. It's necessity. Besides… it's been a while."
Placing his hand gently over the glowing seal on the scroll, Gazel summoned his mana. A hum rippled through the air like distant thunder, and the magic within the scroll activated, casting a soft halo of blue light around him.
"Varvatos. It's Gazel."
Varvatos stood by the edge of his curved marble balcony, a thin cloak draped over his shoulders as he gazed over the breathtaking expanse of Nyvaris. The city glittered like a gem nestled within the Jura Forest, kissed by sunlight and shrouded in tranquility. Behind him, Velzard sipped her tea quietly, watching him with a sidelong smile.
The moment the voice echoed into his mind, Varvatos' gaze softened.
"Gazel. It's been far too long, old friend."
"Indeed. I hope I'm not disturbing anything."
"You never do. What's on your mind?"
"I'd like to visit. Today, if possible. I have… news, and a request."
There was a brief pause before Varvatos answered, his voice calm and absolute.
"Of course. I'll open a portal — it'll bring you directly to me. No need to make the trek. You'll find the entry just outside your throne chamber."
Gazel blinked in surprise, then chuckled quietly.
"Still as sharp as ever."
"And you still overthink your visits," Varvatos replied with a small laugh. "Come. I'll be waiting."
The connection faded.
Back in Dwargon, the air stilled. A few seconds later, a circular ripple in space-time appeared just outside the throne room's central doors. A glowing portal, framed with radiant runes, swirled with deep green and silver — the colors of Nyvaris' ancient magic.
Dolf's eyes widened. "He… opened a portal directly to you?"
Gazel looked impressed, though not entirely surprised. "He's never one for formalities. When he wants to see you, he sees you."
He adjusted the clasp on his cloak, the weight of the moment settling in his chest.
"Tell the council I'll return by dusk. This is something I must do personally."
"Yes, sire."
Gazel walked calmly toward the swirling portal.
The portal shimmered to life in the middle of a circular chamber lined with marble, crystal, and entwined roots glowing faintly with nature's magic. Warm air greeted Gazel, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and something else — something ancient and comforting.
Varvatos stood there, as if waiting all along, his arms crossed and a calm smile tugging at his lips.
"Welcome to Nyvaris, old friend," he said.
Velzard turned from the table, raising a brow with that signature cool grace of hers. "So, the Dwarf King arrives."
Gazel stepped forward, returning the smile. "It's been too long."
Varvatos gestured toward a nearby seat. "Then let's talk. You said you have news?"