There are things no dwarf should ever see. There are things no dwarf should ever feel. Though I am not understanding of the reasons, it seems Baulsheck has suffered me with the slaying of my own brother.

 

Driven for power was he, mixed in with his thirst for vengeance. In desperation to save fellow dwarf, his plotting turned to madness and his bones turned to ice. He would not raise the axe in honor. Instead he would see the blood of goblin and orc stain upon the snow despite what color or action stained the blood of our people. He proposed that we slay goblin children in order to drive our foes to such rage and grief that we may better defeat them in combat. I refused this folly, as I would not let dwarven axe dishonor Baulsheck and our ancestry.

 

I began to see Goldmaine’s heart towards me turn to stone. Before the council he accused me of not loving our people- of loving Goblin before loving dwarf. He would continue to berate me, and after each passing conflict, at every war funeral, his eyes would grow colder and colder, further filled with contempt- every glance as if to say that these fallen warriors were the fault of mine.

 

Soon after, the day was thick with fog, and Goldmaine met me in my morning prayer march. With a sternness in his voice that I had not yet seen, he demanded that I support his conquest into the goblin villages- slaughtering woman and child. “Goldmaine...” I sighed warmly looking upon his eyes, but inside of them was death and void. “Goldmaine!” I called out to him, but Goldmaine was no longer there. The days we climbed the trees of the coldwood... The days we stole Aunt Rollie’s pies from the windowsill... when father blessed us in our becoming... these were all gone. All that was before me was a shell of rage, and pain, and zeal. He then did what I would have believed to be unthinkable. He challenged me to combat for the right to rule our people alone.

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In pain, and great sorrow, I declined his request. I spoke to him that I would not fight him- that I would first die before I would harm him- but he could not hear. Despite my protest, he brought his blade upon me.

 

For hours we parried, as I departed deeper into the mountain wood and he perused after. My voice was hoarse from pleading, and time waned my hope that I could talk Goldmaine out of his assault.

 

For a moment I considered allowing him to strike me down- for in this I could protect my younger brother... but I began to envision a world where Goldmaine had rule. I saw the innocent butchered. I saw Baulsheck forsaken. I saw one survival over another. I saw what should not be seen. With great burden, I asked Baulsheck for strength as I took the offense against my brother. As he had grown tired from pursuit and was not expecting my sudden energy, I was able to overcome him until he lay disarmed beneath me and my axe.

 

I still to this day see his face, asking for mercy at the sight of my raised axe. I saw his eyes- the eyes of Goldmaine returning. The eyes of my brother, yet I was committed to doing what must be done for our people. Goldmaine’s will was not changed by great compassion or devotion to Baulshek- Goldmaine was afraid, and fear is temporal. And with that, I brought the axe down upon my brother.

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What they never told you about dwarf killing dwarf is that a part of you dies as well. I could not eat. I could not sleep. The sweetest of mead did not have taste in my mouth. Truly, a void existed where my heart once was. And in the midst of all of this, I was crowned king. I was looked to for leadership. I was exalted. But I would not have it.

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Was my lack of mercy on my brother truly fueled by dwarven compassion? Was this Baulshek’s will? Was I a savior or a murderer? And his eyes... the eyes of one looking for help from his elder brother. I never sang again.

 

I walked the streets of the city until I stumbled upon a poor dwarven baker, running his stall in the cold. I saw a dwarf come upon the baker and asked for charity- food for his hunger and no ability to repay. The Baker, overcome with compassion, fed his guest. I approached the Baker, revealed my identity, and ordered him into the throne room the very next day.

 

And on that next day, I made him King. But not a regular king- I so decreed that the title of King would lose its identity, and that we should call our rulers “Elementals”, as it is our duty to bind our people together. The council went mad. The people did not understand, but still I ordered it so.

 

And then that very night, when the fog was once again heavy, I departed into the mountain. I was to find Baulshek, myself, and maybe even the Spirit of Goldmaine. I took one last look at the kingdom, my eyes no longer the eyes of Swiftfoot, and departed.