Location: Akka & Fubar
Time: Sixth Age, Winter 49
Within a month the miners of Fubar had achieved success – in fact they burst into the hallowed halls of Akka – and rejoiced like common thieves, their eyes wide with a greed so pure it was almost admirable.
Once the dwarves’ doors were, the so-called “Fubar Forty-Niners” were met with a sight glorious in its mortal banality.
“The advisor spake the truth!” a man named Fane shrieked, his voice cracking with disbelief. His eyes, the stupid things, were wide as saucers as he ogled glittering gems and gold coins strewn about. They weren’t even hidden! A careless mistake by the dwarves, or perhaps, a deliberate act of contempt. A final gesture to the world before… well, you’ll see. The mortals didn’t notice the dust of ages hanging in the air, or the way the very silence felt heavy with the weight of unseen things. All they saw was treasure, a surface-level glimmer I had left in place just for this very purpose.
“We’re rich!” another miner rejoiced, his grubby hands stuffing jewels into his pockets with reckless abandon. It was an utter circus, a pathetic grab for trinkets.
Their foreman, a man named Cael, had a head on his shoulders, though. “Not so fast,” Cael warned, his voice a low, no-nonsense rumble. His hands, gnarled and scarred from a lifetime of hard work, were the antithesis of the smooth, pampered ones that would eventually handle these same jewels. “Remember, all this belongs to the king and The Advisor needs ta review it all before ya get yer share. Pack what ya find in the chests.”
A week passed in a frenzy of frantic collection.
The miners in fact did no mining at all. Why would they? The halls were a glittering banquet of easy pickings. They were like ants at a picnic, scurrying to gather every last crumb before someone else took it. While they busied themselves, Foreman Cael, the prudent mortal he was, sent a runner back to Fubar. He requested a military guard to accompany the transport teams, and more guards to be stationed at Akka. He saw the potential for mortal greed, and he was wise enough to know it could turn on itself.
When Ramssee received the request, I swear I could feel his grin from across the entire continent “Master Cael – you are a man of wisdom. They’ll surely be a place for you in my kingdom,” he thought to himself. Oh, he was a master of his little kingdom, my Ramssee. He knew exactly what to reward and what to punish. The fact that Cael, the hardworking peasant, had the foresight of a king was a useful little surprise. I could see the wheels turning in Ramssee’s head, already plotting how he would use this man once Diked was out of the way.
As it turned out Ramssee didn’t just send the guards; he sent them in droves! He had them perform “pat downs” on every miner entering and leaving Akka, all in the name of protecting “the People’s Wealth.” What a magnificent bit of verbal fluff! He wasn’t protecting the people; he was protecting his prize. Every crate, every box of gold and gems, was logged and accounted for. He wasn’t about to let some common laborer make off with something truly valuable. As it was, I’m sure my Grim wasn’t even on his mind – he just wanted the gold!
As the crates began to arrive in Fubar, escorted by platoons of Orkney troops, the legends began to grow. The commoners never saw the wealth, of course. Ramssee made sure of that. But the sight of the heavily guarded caravans was enough. In the taverns and markets, the whispers became shouts. “The riches of Akka!” The populace, so easily swayed by an image of wealth they couldn’t even possess, became giddy with national pride. They were becoming the envy of the world, just as Ramssee had promised. The fools.
And Ramssee, like a true artist in the craft of manipulation, took on the task of personally cataloging everything. Chests full of gold, gem-encrusted goblets, ornate weapons never before seen by human eyes. He was meticulous, his every move a study in control. Some of this wealth, the most insignificant portion, was sent to the young King Diked. The boy was ecstatic, clutching his new baubles like a child with a favorite toy. He truly believed he was getting rich, faster than his father ever had. He was content with the illusion. A perfect king for a fake kingdom.
A small fraction of the wealth was distributed to the other lords, just enough to keep their grumbling to a minimum and ensure their armies remained at Ramssee’s disposal. And the commoners? He would occasionally appear in public, holding a bauble or two aloft, then toss them to the crowd like a bird tossing breadcrumbs to pigeons. The result was predictable: they adored him. Ramsse was a man of the people, a wise leader who shared the wealth. He was, to them, far more of a king than Diked could ever hope to be.
Then came the miners’ turn. It was a glorious little drama. The men, who had seen unimaginable riches being hauled away in crates, were given a pittance. A tiny fraction of a fraction of the gold they had handled with their own two hands. They were furious, their disappointment turning to rage. They accused Foreman Cael of cheating them. How amusing. These mortals, always ready to turn on their own when they see a hint of betrayal.
And so, Ramssee had to show up himself and deal with another problem. As usual, he was more than prepared.
He stood before the grimy miners, his expensive silks a stark contrast to their dirt-stained tunics. His eyes, spinning with that lovely magic, went to work.
“What you’re earning here is a princely sum,” he purred, the words wrapping around their minds like a hypnotic fog. “More than you’d make in many years back home, right?”
When they, in their simpleminded stupor, cheered their agreement, he presented his final masterpiece of deception. “It’s far too dangerous for anyone to keep their income here at Akka,” he reasoned, “Therefore we’ll hold your earnings in reserve for you at the Royal Treasury—the safest place in all of Orkney.”
They shouted their agreement, their naive shouts drowning out the final, glorious flourish of his little lie: “Of course, any storage charges and processing fees will necessarily be deducted from your sum prior to calculating your final payment, but we’ll worry about those details later, right?”
They didn’t even hear that part. They heard only what they wanted to hear: the promise of future wealth. My Ramssee, a true artist.
As for MY main objective, the Grim, Ramssee was at least marginally diligent on the matter. Every weapon found was sent to him immediately. He questioned Cael about daggers and dirks, a hungry look in his eyes. He received hundreds of blades, but none of them matched the description I had given him in his dreams. He was soon frustrated, but all the gold he acquired more than made up for that nuisance.
Even still, Ramssee wasn’t stupid enough to completely ignore my commands completely – he knew I’d come for him eventually if he didn’t deliver my prize. He knew he had to find the treasure trove which was supposedly in something called The Deepest Depths of Akka – for that’s where Arwin’s Diary said The Grim was hidden.
“When do you expect your teams will be able to delve into the mines?” Ramssee asked the foreman as they walked through the former throne room of Akka.
The room now largely bare after the bodies of the dead dwarves and all their possessions has long since been cleared away, yet even without the accouterments of its former glory, the room bespoke of power – for the Drokka were unparalleled stone masons and the intricate beauty of the centuries of work they’d invested into the room remained awe-inspiring.
Cael couldn’t hide a look of confusion on his face as he stood with his back to one of the massive pillars that supported the giant cavern – the column itself still showed sings of gold and gems inlaid near its upper regions since the miners hadn’t managed to extract those hard to reach places yet. “I don’t understand, mi’ lord. I was tol’ the goal was ta extract the wealth of Akka – an’ that’s what my men hav’ been doin’ fer ya.”
Now it was The Chief Advisor’s turn to be confused. “I thought I was clear that the only orders you were to follow were mine? Whose authority could possibly be higher than mine?”
Although the foreman was nearly twice the size of the viperz, when the big man saw the fire in the Advisor’s eyes, Cael cowered back. “But, but…it was the king!”
It took everything in Ramssee power to keep himself under control and not murder the foreman on the spot. As it was, the viperz screamed his rage and stormed out of the mountain – commanding his bodyguards to get him back to Fubar as fast as possible, driving the team of horses that pulled his carriage to their deaths in order to deliver him at the palace before sun up the following morning.
Barging into Diked’s room, Ramssee shook the king awake – causing the still sleeping boy to scream for help.
Diked’s yelps brought a host of guards, but The Chief Advisor assured them the king was well and then he bade them stand guard at the door in order to give them something to do. After closing the door and returning to the king’s bed, the viperz could see that Diked had come to his senses, but was still confused.
“Why did you visit Akka without telling me?” Ramssee barked. “Why did you tell the foreman to have his men keep collecting treasure and disregard my orders about The Deepest Depth?”
Diked held up his hands to try to ward off the viperz’ verbal assault. When at last his Advisor stopped, the terrified king stammered, “I…I don’t understand. I thought you wanted me to be rich? What does it matter whether my treasures come from the miners actually digging or if they just scoop it up where it lies? So long as they deliver it to me, right?” And the boy reached over to his night stand and proudly held up a belt that contained no less than a thousand two-carat diamonds and emeralds. “Why, this alone is worth more than my father’s coffers ever held!”
“Give me that!” Ramssee snatched the belt. In his rage, the viperze smacked the belt against the wall – the baldric broke apart, sending gemstones flying in all directions. “That’s what I think of your precious trinket!”
“That’s okay,” Diked laughed nervously, trying to seem unfazed. “I have another just like it.”
“Do you now?” Ramssee narrowed his eyes as he observed the teenage king. After a sigh, he tried a new approach. “Diked, do you not see how blind you are being? I realize it might appear that there is great wealth in the upper chambers of Akka, but trust me, it is not enough to make Orkney any better than Primcitta or Estalay. Don’t you see, we have not even tapped the surface of what Akka has to offer.”
The king’s eyes lit up at the thought, “I had no idea.”
Seeing his approach was working the viperz didn’t even bother to use his persuasiveness as he continued. “My king, let me assure you that, what is coming to us now is merely of a quality that should be left to clean-up crews after the main excavations are completed. Diked, do you not realize that we have not even opened the passageway to The Deepest Depths – wherein lies the True Treasure Trove? Just think of what could be awaiting you there?”
“What?” Diked gasped.
“Alas, even I don’t have the specifics.” Ramssee spoke in conspiratorial tones. “But what I do know is that the Drokka Treasure Trove houses the type of wealth that will thrust Orkney into a position not only atop Daytaxia, but even over great Karkamesh too! With such wealth your name will not just be known here, but instead will be written amongst the stars!”
“My name written in the stars…” The king let the thought trail away as he envisioned his fame.
And so King Diked issued a command to the miners – open The Depths.
Unfortunately for Ramssee, inciting King Diked’s greed and having the royal decree that his miners should put all their efforts into opening the blocked passageways of Akka was not enough to overcome the actual physics of the situation, for when the head foreman reported back a few weeks later he did not bear good news.
“My lords,” Cael addressed Ramssee, bowing as he held his hammer-beaten iron hat in his hands. The hard-working stocky serf wore his usual overalls and, as always, they were covered in grime – for the foreman worked as hard as his men. Explaining further he said, “the task ya request of my men is monumental. Greater ‘an anythin’ we’ve undertaken.”
“Then be great,” patronized The Advisor, “Rise up, man, and provide your King with that which he desires – the True Riches of Akka.”
“If only we could, my lord,” the miner bowed deeper at the waist. “Forgive my ignorance, sire, but there’s still more ‘en enough in them treasure rooms from the upper chambers to let you buy all the Salt in Inle if ya wanted to. Mayhap I’ve not made myself clear with my messengers, so, let me say it agin in plain Common, my lord — we don’t really need to do no diggin’ for the king’s riches, ‘cuz it’s still all at our fingertips just waiting to be picked up!”
“Perhaps I have not made myself clear,” Spat Ramssee, glaring at the Chief Miner. “It is not for you to question the orders of King Diked. We do not have to explain to you the merits of our plan. Nor do we need you to give us your worthless opinion, either.” And grabbing the bigger man by the shirt collar, The Advisor yelled at him, “Now, tell us the status of opening the way regarding the passageway I marked for you!”
“Oh, that one,” laughed the barrel-chested man, unfazed by the smaller-framed Advisor’s threats. Carefully removing his shirt from Ramssee’s grasp, Cael took a step back, then respectfully replied, “I’m afraid the passageway you’re talkin’ about is most difficult of ’em all. It’ll take us a long time just to clear all the debris and then to cut through them quarter stones. In fact—“
“HOW LONG?” grated Ramssee, unwilling to let the miner amble on with his explanation.
“Hmmm,” Cael did some quick calculations in his head, “Well, I gotta guesstimate what’s behind the stones I can see, ya know…”But, sensing the anger welling up in his audience, he quickened his figuring. “Best guess, I’d say about a year or two to break through all the rubble.”
“WHAT?!?” Ramssee shouted in disbelief. “A YEAR? Why, that’s impossible!”
“Beg pardon, sir, but I believe that’s right.” Cael affirmed. “See, ya got these solid blocks of marble that I can see behind some of them quarter stones; now how them dwarves got that marble back there I don’t know ‘cuz that stone ain’t from around here, but I’ll be damned if that ain’t part of this avalanche that’s barring our way.”
“I don’t believe you.” Hissed The Advisor. “You just don’t want to complete the task I’ve given you, lazy man. Why, see if I don’t withhold your stipend,” he threatened, “your family will starve.”
“Now, now, Sir.” Cael tried to calm his betters. “Don’t do nothing drastic like that. And don’t take my word for it, if ya don’t believe me. Why not come and see for yerself? Perhaps ya can show old Cael here what I’m doing wrong.”
“I believe I will!” Ramssee shot back. “If you’re lying, I’ll have your hide hanging on the walls of the city gates!”
Cael’s head never did hang from Fubar’s gates, for when he accompanied the foreman down to the lower levels to see for himself, Ramssee had to agree that the Chief Miner was telling the truth. The fact is that, when The Steward had first visited the entrance to the passageway down to the Deepest Depths, the viperz had only ever seen loose debris – massive stones to be sure, but clearly movable by the machinations of the day. Yet, upon this new visit with the foreman and the king, even though Ramssee could see that progress had been made and all the unwedged stones had been moved out by Cael’s miners, it was now painfully obvious (even Ramssee’s untrained engineering eyes) that the next step towards clearing a path would require a super-human effort indeed.
“How does one go about moving such a blockade?” Ramssee asked, with mouth agape at the twenty-foot high, thirty-foot wide, intricately woven avalanche that barred the way.
The usually glib Advisor was silent and Ramssee even let his shoulders slump, for so discouraged was he at the sight – doubting that such an endeavor was even possible and believing his plans to be foiled.
Seeing the hopeless sag in The Steward’s shoulders, Cael patted him hard on the back and said in a chipper voice, “Fear not, Cap’n, we’ll git ‘er done! Don’t you none worry about Cael and his men, this way will be open. All in good time.” And, pulling out a smoke stick and offering one to Ramssee he asked, “Got a light?”
That Ramssee didn’t murder Cael on the spot is rather incredible. As it was, I’ll give the viperz credit – he’d seen the facts of the situation – the foreman was telling the truth – and yet Ramssee was quick to calculate how he might use this little delay to his advantage: starting with finding a way to rid himself of Diked.
“A light?” The snake man smile. “Yes, Cael. I think I do. Let’s walk…and talk. I rather like you, my friend.”
The Apocrypha of Azazel 