The Three Peaks: Part 2 - The Iron Ambition of Irondelve
The Fortress of Steel
Irondelve was not built to be beautiful. It was built to be effective.
While Stellarim rose in marble halls and artisan quarters, Irondelve burrowed deeper into the earth like a wound that would not heal. Its walls were smooth, pragmatic stone. Its rooms were functional, austere, organized with the precision of a military installation. The fortress had been built for one purpose: to expand dwarven territory through force and hold it through superior martial power.
For sixty years, it had succeeded. The fortress had absorbed four smaller settlements, conquered three goblin strongholds, and maintained a standing army of two hundred soldiers—a staggering force for a civilization that rarely maintained such numbers.
The commander of this army was Thorgrim Battlemaster, a dwarf of fifty-five years whose beard bore the silver thread not of merchant achievement but of fifty years of measured violence. Every scar on his body had a campaign behind it. Every tactical decision bore the weight of dwarves’ lives.
He stood in the war room of Irondelve, alone, studying the maps that covered every wall.
The mountains were carved with red lines—known dwarven settlements. Blue lines marked goblin territories, growing fewer each year. Black dots marked outposts and forward positions. In the center of the most detailed map, a new marking had appeared: small but significant.
A new fortress to the east. Too far to be Irondelve’s direct expansion, but within range of interest.
“That obsession again,” a voice said.
Thorgrim didn’t turn. He knew that voice—it carried the weight of someone who had earned the right to interrupt even a war room contemplation.
Lokum Steelhammer entered, towering a full head above Thorgrim’s own considerable height. Lokum was a legend in the truest sense—legendary warrior, legendary in melee weapons, legendary in named kills. His armor was inscribed with the names of enemies he’d defeated in single combat. There were forty-three names.
“The eastern settlements are not our concern,” Lokum continued, crossing his massive arms.
“Not yet,” Thorgrim said. “The merchants report something happening to the east. A new frontier. New resources. New territory.”
“New competition,” Lokum observed.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps opportunity.” Thorgrim turned from the map to face his oldest lieutenant. “Tell me, Lokum: what is the greatest threat to military supremacy?”
“Stagnation,” Lokum answered without hesitation. “A force that isn’t tested eventually falls apart. Men grow soft. They forget discipline. They start thinking about farming and families instead of glory.”
“Exactly.” Thorgrim gestured to the maps. “We’ve had peace for three years, Lokum. No major campaigns. No goblin strongholds to raid. The expansion has plateaued. And every year of peace, I watch our soldiers lose their edge. We have two hundred trained warriors and nothing to do with them but drill and practice.”
“That’s hardly our worst problem,” Lokum said. He moved to the window, which looked down into Irondelve’s main military courtyard. Below, soldiers marched in formation, their armor gleaming in the afternoon light. “The fortress is stable. The supplies are sufficient. The soldiers are fed and housed.”
“They’re becoming soft,” Thorgrim said. “And soft soldiers lose wars.”
The Legendary Warrior’s Concern
Lokum had served Irondelve for thirty years, and he had seen this pattern before. A leader growing restless. Ambition turning inward, searching for outlets.
“What are you thinking?” Lokum asked, though he suspected he already knew.
“I’m thinking about the eastern mountains,” Thorgrim said. “I’m thinking about whoever is building there. I’m thinking about what happens when they discover something valuable and don’t have the military strength to defend it.”
“You’re thinking about conquest.”
“I’m thinking about Irondelve’s future,” Thorgrim corrected. “Our population grows. Our territory doesn’t. Eventually, young dwarves will have nowhere to go. They’ll leave for other fortresses, other kingdoms. The fortress will wither not from invasion but from irrelevance.”
Lokum turned back to face him. “And the solution is to attack someone to the east?”
“The solution,” Thorgrim said carefully, “is to establish Irondelve’s dominance while we still have the strength. To expand before someone else does. To position ourselves as the dominant force in this region.”
“By invading a neighboring fortress.”
“By preventing the existence of a rival fortress,” Thorgrim said. The words were said quietly, but they carried finality.
Lokum considered this for a long moment. He had been a warrior his entire life. He had followed Thorgrim’s orders for three decades. But he had also learned something that most soldiers never did: he had learned to think.
“You know,” Lokum said carefully, “that this would be a change. Not just in strategy, but in principle. We’ve always been defenders. We’ve conquered goblin strongholds, yes, but we’ve never truly attacked another dwarven settlement.”
“The dwarves to the east aren’t a settlement yet,” Thorgrim said. “They’re an expedition. An outpost. If we move quickly enough, it will never become more.”
“And if we’re wrong?” Lokum asked. “If they’re stronger than we think? If they have allies?”
“Then we’ll deal with that reality when we face it.” Thorgrim moved away from the maps and put a hand on Lokum’s shoulder. “I’m not asking for your approval, old friend. I’m telling you so you can prepare. Because whether you approve or not, Irondelve’s army will march east in three months. And I need to know that my greatest warrior will be at the front.”
Lokum looked at the maps, at the fortress of steel and stone that had been his home for three decades, at the soldiers below who trained with perfect discipline.
“Three months,” he said. “That’s a long time.”
“Yes,” Thorgrim agreed. “It is.”
The Preparation
Over the next weeks, Irondelve began a subtle military mobilization. Nothing obvious—nothing that would alarm the other dwarven settlements or draw the attention of spies. But to those who knew how to look, the signs were unmistakable.
Supply warehouses were stocked with extra food and equipment. The army increased training intensity. Logistics officers began calculating routes to the east, supply lines, forward positions.
Lokum trained harder than ever, driving his soldiers through increasingly brutal drills. He was preparing them for something, though most didn’t yet know what.
In the tavern, dwarves whispered. Something was happening. The command structure was shifting. The legendary Lokum was restless again.
One night, as Lokum sat alone in his quarters, reviewing weapon counts and armor repairs, a young soldier came to him with a message from Thorgrim.
“The commander requests your presence at the war room. There’s news from the east.”
Lokum went immediately. When he arrived, Thorgrim was bent over a map, his expression harder than Lokum had ever seen it.
“The expedition,” Thorgrim said without preamble. “The one we’ve been monitoring. We have confirmation from our scouts. The legendary smith—Urist McForgemaster from Stellarim—has left that fortress and is leading an expedition to the eastern mountains. He’ll arrive in approximately six weeks.”
Lokum’s jaw tightened.
“Urist McForgemaster,” he repeated. The name carried weight. Legendary craftsmanship. Legendary weaponmaking. If he brought that skill to the eastern mountains…
“Precisely,” Thorgrim said. “Which means we can’t wait three months. We move in six weeks, before his settlement is established. Before his legendary skills make them defensible.”
“That’s faster than we planned,” Lokum said.
“Yes, it is,” Thorgrim agreed. “Which is why I need you. I need the army ready in four weeks, marching in five. Is that possible?”
Lokum looked at the map, at the mark indicating where Urist’s expedition would be, at the position of Irondelve’s forces.
He thought about legends and ambition and the cost of war.
“Yes,” he said finally. “It’s possible.”
Below them, the fortress of Irondelve continued its martial preparations, and neither dwarf noticed how the torchlight made their shadows seem larger, darker, and far more ominous than they deserved to be.
Next in the series: The Three Peaks: Part 3 - The Struggle of Sparkbrook