After accepting his invitation, the process of returning to our lodging, gathering our necessary belongings, and preparing to leave went smoothly.

Opsvor was eager to bring us to his kingdom.

“Forget about the horses! We’ve got sturdy, reliable cave mules. They can’t make it down there anyway. Sell them off, sell them off!”

Following his advice, we sold the horses to a merchant for a reasonable price.

Opsvor explained that Underneath was just a bit to the west from where we were. Early one morning, we secured a wagon ride to a human village near the kingdom, while Opsvor hummed an upbeat tune.

“It’s been ages since we’ve had guests. And humans, no less! Just wait and see how dwarves treat their guests. Ha ha!”

Curious, I asked, “How long has it been since humans were last invited?”

The wagon creaked and rattled as it traveled along the narrow path, carrying only our group and the merchant who we’d paid extra for the ride.

Opsvor twisted his beard thoughtfully.

“Oh, maybe a hundred years? Something like that.”

“Are you sure we’ll be welcomed, mister? We won’t be met with, ‘Filthy humans, get lost!’ will we?” Andrew grumbled, leaning against the wagon wall.

“I already told you, it’ll be fine! When I say you saved my life, they’ll treat you like royalty!” Opsvor laughed, but the joy slowly faded from his face as he paled. His bronze skin took on a lighter hue.

“Of course, I… I might, uh, be in a bit of trouble myself…” His voice grew smaller as the reality of his situation dawned on him, and the mood among us turned somber.

Only the merchant seemed oblivious, thrilled with the unexpected extra payment. Hooves clattered against the road as small pebbles were kicked up in their wake.

The village at the base of the Muti Mountains barely qualified as a “village.” The people passing by paid no attention to Opsvor, as if seeing a dwarf was an everyday occurrence.

We disembarked from the wagon and, without delay, began ascending the mountain.

“Just a short climb,” Opsvor reassured us.

Even at the foot of the mountain, the infamous terrain lived up to its reputation, steep and rugged.

Andrew, hands braced on his knees, muttered complaints.

“Why are we climbing? Aren’t dwarven kingdoms supposed to be underground or something?”

“Just wait a bit. You lack patience, Andrew!”

“My patience is delicate. It doesn’t survive past a certain altitude.”

“Quiet, Andrew,” Guinness interjected, silencing him for the time being.

After a while of following the mountain path, Opsvor abruptly veered off into a small side trail between the trees.

We passed through the forest, stepping on branches and leaves for some time, before a clearing finally opened up. In the center lay a large, pristine lake. The water was so clear that the bottom was visible, although it seemed impossibly deep.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured, captivated by the sight.

“Isn’t it?” Opsvor grinned proudly, stepping forward.

“A long time ago, before hammer and anvil were even a pair, our ancestors received a gift from the dragon who ruled the Muti Mountains.”

He walked toward the lake without hesitation.

“Hey, mister! Are you planning on going for a swim?” Andrew called out, reaching to stop him. But the scene unfolding before us made us freeze in astonishment.

With every step Opsvor took, the water parted, and shimmering steps emerged from the lake.

“To others, it’s just a deep lake… but to us, it’s the gateway to our safe haven.”

He turned back, grinning at us.

“Hurry, before the path closes!”

His words jolted us into action. We hurried after him, stepping onto the glowing steps that solidly supported our weight.

As Opsvor moved forward, more steps appeared, creating a path through the parted water. We descended deeper and deeper.

Looking back, I saw that the water closed behind us, seamlessly returning to its undisturbed state.

At the bottom of the lake, a towering stone gate and pillars awaited. Inscribed on the gate were symbols I couldn’t read.

Opsvor placed his hand on the massive stone door, far larger than himself. Blue light spread from beneath his palm, tracing intricate patterns across the surface of the door. A deep rumbling echoed from below the earth as the door slowly creaked open.

Beyond the door lay darkness.

“Welcome to Underneath, my friends,” Opsvor said, spreading his arms wide in welcome.

“You brat! You wretched boy!”

“Ow! Father, please! Let go of me and we can talk!”

“What do you think you’re doing, sneaking off to the surface? You’ve broken my heart, you fool!”

“I’m sorry! Please, let go! Father, I’m going to die!”

Opsvor, his ear firmly held in his father’s grip, howled in pain and begged for mercy.

His father, who looked just like an older version of him, had his ear in a tight pinch, pulling mercilessly.

“You dare whine after sneaking off? Did you enjoy it? Did you?”

“It hurts! I’m serious, I’m going to die!”

We stood there awkwardly, watching the commotion.

Eventually, Opsvor was released, retreating as he clutched his throbbing ear.

Brushing off his hands, his father approached us. His steps were heavy, his face stern and weathered by time.

He squinted his eyes at us, hot puffs of air escaping his flared nostrils.

Beside me, I heard Andrew gulp audibly.

Finally, the older dwarf stopped in front of us. He stood barely up to Claude’s chest, yet his posture was unyielding. His voice boomed, echoing against the cavern walls.

“So, you’re the ones who saved Opsvor?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” I answered, feeling the tension from Andrew and Guinness, who were both on high alert.

Behind Opsvor and his father, dozens of dwarf soldiers stood at attention, armed with spears and swords.

We were just inside the gates of Underneath, having followed Opsvor through the stone portal.

At first, the tunnel had been dark, but as we descended further, bioluminescent stones embedded in the walls illuminated the way, casting a soft glow.

Much like the shimmering steps by the lake, the deeper we went, the more impressive the architecture became. Massive pillars held up ceilings so high they made one dizzy to look up at them. The intricate carvings along the walls were stunning in their detail.

Two guards had stood at the inner gate, their eyes wide when they saw Opsvor.

“You’ve returned!”

“Kalem! Viktor! Long time no see!” Opsvor greeted them warmly, throwing his arms around one of the guards. The other guard eyed us warily.

“Who are these humans?”

“They saved my life!” Opsvor explained, and after a brief explanation, they sent word to the king inside.

It hadn’t been long before a messenger returned, granting us permission to enter.

As the large stone gates opened, we were greeted by Opsvor’s father, flanked by armed dwarf soldiers.

Opsvor had barely approached his father, calling out in an emotional voice.

“Father, I’ve returned!”

“You brat!” His father had immediately grabbed him by the ear, scolding him, which led us to the current scene.

Now, with the scolding over, Opsvor’s father turned his critical gaze on us, inspecting us thoroughly.

I suddenly remembered that we couldn’t leave without the dwarves’ help to navigate the lake again. Without them, we were stuck here.

Feeling a shiver run down my spine, I swallowed hard. The idea of being buried in this underground tomb without escape was daunting.

Out of nowhere, a rough hand extended toward me.

“You have my thanks. You saved my good-for-nothing son.”

Caught off guard, I shook his hand. The tension in the air eased slightly, and the guards relaxed.

“I am Kaladrum, the king of Underneath and the father of this rascal. You’re welcome in my kingdom, human friends. As honored guests, you shall be treated with the finest hospitality Underneath has to offer!”