Tree of Aeons

307. Alka’s Delvegardian Journey

Alka and the Delvegardian Yards

The dwarven kingdom of Ruthfyord was one of the powerhouses of Delvegard, and they were also the home of the legendary Delvegardian Yards, commonly referred to as the Yards. 

Next to the Yards was the official capital of Ruthfyord, Kingsholds. To the locals, it is where the Dwarven King reigned, and the political, trade and administrative capital. But not military and magic, because the capital of that is the Yards. 

At this point, Alka had seen so many capitals and cities that it didn’t impress him much. He glanced at the map provided by the spies, and then, double checked his documents. It is incredibly easy to get the right dwarven merchants to provide a recommendation letter, when the right amount of money exchanged hands. Dwarves were not incorruptible, though their price tags were often a wee bit higher than humans generally who would often sell out their friends and allies for less. 

Alka’s appearance was one of a much, much more youthful version of himself. A change in their appearance didn’t take all that much of his strength, but worked wonders for espionage. 

He would infiltrate the Yards as a craftsman. According to records and information gleaned by the spies, it would take about five to six years to rise through the ranks of the Yards, though, given his exceptional abilities, it’s likely to be shorter.

Alka’s goal for the next few years was simple. Weave himself into the Yards structure, get access or identify a range of classified documents and information, identify and recruit potentially talented craftsmen for the Order and if possible, usurp the Yards from within. 

He wouldn’t be alone. The Order’s spies assigned a few other dwarves who would join over the few years at various levels, through different channels. There were also agents that would enter the other famous yards and workshops. Together, they’d form a hidden network of agents that would then work to redirect the Yard’s leadership.

One of the challenges and learning points from the Magisarian rebellion, in Alka’s point of view, was the lack of discretion. 

On one hand, Alka understood why. They had no choice. The world wasn’t a stable place, and Lausanne’s goals were to save lives. For Delvegard, which is currently stable, their involvement could be more discreet, and they could keep themselves hidden for longer. An advantage he intended to maximize.

The guard glanced at Alka, back at his paper, and bowed respectfully. “Welcome, Craftsman Alka.” 

Craftsman. A title given to promising blacksmiths and crafters who were then given a chance to join the famed Delvegardian Yards as a working apprentice. The passing mark was Level 30 as a craftsman, where they could be trained by the level 60 to 80 craftsmen of the Yards. 

The Yard itself had two main paths. The first path was the Craftsmen, which referred to those that would work with metals and build the war machines. The second path was the magic path, where alchemists, enchanters and mages, who would create runic formations, inscriptions, enchantments, all the other magical liquids and components that went into the war machines.

Alka was first and foremost an alchemist, but as the Yards generally treated its craftsmen better, he decided it was better to infiltrate the Yards as a craftsman. It would make it easier for him to get close to those who had talent, and sway them towards the Order.

The two sides worked, studied and lived together to build the war machine, though they were separated in some of the classes and learning sessions. 

It was a fairly elite set up that worked well for the Dwarven Kingdom of Ruthfyord. Over centuries they accumulated military strength, and so they solidified their position as the best weapons and war machine academy in the world of Delvegard. The only such academy that could even challenge them, the nation of Airan’s Delvegard Workshops, was on the other side of the world.

He glanced at his documents again. His assigned room was somewhere on one of the corner buildings. The Delvegardian Yards was arranged into long rows of buildings, with wide open spaces in between the buildings. The buildings themselves were each individually self sufficient, it had its own residential section, its own set of workshop areas, its own canteens and its own study areas. 

The wide open spaces were meant to facilitate movement of the war machines produced from the gigantic workshops. Even from afar, the first thing he noticed on each of the buildings were their giant hangar doors.

It was quite impressive that these dwarves got to the point of developing their own walkers to counter the old demons. The information Sundus’s spies gathered from the nearby towns and cities were fairly thorough, but it was quite hard for the spies to get hold of good quality historical documents. There were some basic documents and books, but history for most part only documented the great battles and victories of each nation. Only the King and perhaps its closed advisors had access to the true history of the world, and the Yards reputedly had one of the best archives and records of documents from earlier days. 

Again, Alka understood. History is written by its victors, and so, the less the populace knew about the truth, the easier it was to shape the mindset of its people.

Alka looked at the open spaces between each of the blocks, and along some of those empty fields, smaller war machines battling it out. Their means of battle were mainly physical attacks, where the war machines attacked each other using their legs and arms. Magical weapons and energy weapons would only be activated when battles were fought in the special areas located in a different block.

Alka looked around and saw about twenty other new craftsmen walk through the door. They all stared and looked around equally bewildered and happy. One of the new dwarven students walked a few steps, and suddenly got down and kissed the stone floor. 

He could hear the dwarf student making a prayer to Eras for guiding him here. The others just groaned. “Oh come on, don’t embarrass our year.” 

It made him think of Freshka Treetiary College. There were similar reactions in young recruits when they visited the FTC for the first time. 

There were supposed to be about thirty new craftsmen this year, and they would be split to each of the five main blocks. Each of the blocks were rivals, so most of these would be his rivals. Alka chuckled, and checked his document again. 

The five blocks were named after the five past kings of Ruthfyord. Ruthen, Arden, Melden, Furden and Carden. Alka didn’t know why Stella chuckled when she heard the names, but it was probably one of those Earth things Alka didn’t get. Maybe it was the rhyming names.

“Block Arden.” Alright. Alka nodded, got himself settled into a fairly cozy room, and quickly met his supposed ‘batchmates’. In the first two weeks, he generally kept a low profile, and focused on understanding how the entire system worked. Using tools from the Order, he installed additional surveillance tools to keep tabs on the inner workings of the institution.

One of the first things he deployed were tiny surveillance golems, made by the golem masters of Treehome. They would spread out and plant themselves throughout different parts of the Delvegardian Yards, and report the interactions back to him.

“Everything alright?” Alka heard Aeon check in through the familiar. 

“Yeah. All settled in.” Alka responded. He didn’t have to do this, but the situation on the peripheral worlds was stable, and Alka wanted to do something different, just to satisfy his curiosity. 

Maybe it was one of those things that he wanted to do, since his temporary death.

Alka remembered a feeling of floating about, and when he reemerged from Aeon’s pod, he felt like he was born again.

He felt he missed out. So now, he sought out these experiences. To do something different. Going to an academy and taking over it seemed like a fun thing to do. 

***

A month later

“Alka! Come, join us! We are meeting some seniors and the head of the Arden block!” One of Alka’s fellow blockmates slammed on his bedroom door. Alka groaned as he climbed out of bed. 

The bed wasn’t comfortable, so he had it secretly replaced. A shadow emerged right next to his bed and Alka’s sleepy eyes opened to stare at an absolute lookalike of himself. “It’s alright, Ally, I’ll go for this one.”

“Alright.” Ally answered, in the form of Alka’s lookalike. A body created to look like him vanished into the shadows, and the domain holder walked to the door. 

“Okay!” Alka smiled. Acting wasn’t his strongest suit, but it was fairly easy to get used to an environment where there’s a lot of work to be done.

As new recruits of the Yards, they began by making supplementary equipment for the various war machines. These were things like weapon mounts, replacement claws and arms, replacement shields, or just gears and parts for all the various components of the Delvegardian war machines.

War machines came in tiers, the largest were the King Spiders, and those were the biggest at about the size of a large building and were about the size of the demon walkers. Below that were the Prince Spiders, which were about the size of a larger room. Then, there were the Lord-Spiders, which were generally the size of a bed. The definition, per the Yards’ rules, were governed by the size of their workshop doors. 

War machines were similar to golems and warships in many ways. Just like warships, they came with inbuilt abilities bestowed by their creators, which could then be amplified by the abilities of their pilots or controllers. Mages and enchanters could inscribe runic formations and patterns to give war machines even more power. 

Sunsteel was thus the perfect material for these war machines. Strong, light and magically compatible, though they needed to be forged with Ice Crystals, a process then known as cold forging. Stella remarked it sounded quite like the mythical mythril, though we didn’t know whether it was even similar. 

The yards wanted Craftsmen to be trained to a high level, since stronger craftsmen gave their war machines stronger skills, which was then amplified by the enchantments that went into the war machines, and also the pilot’s own skills. It was for this reason that these large things are so dangerous. Each of them represented the skills and powers of multiple people that coalesced into a single tool for destruction, though the Sunsteel was a big part of why they took this direction.

On Treehome, Aeon’s crafters and golem builders constructed golems and other such structures to fairly good results, but ultimately, the materials had limitations on how much innate strength they had, and how much magic power can be worked into them. This meant there was a cap on how much stronger Treehome’s machines got, even if their crafters were better. On Treehome, it was warships with their large sizes, multiple skilled crews, that went crazy with their outfits and equipment.

“Everything alright, Craftsman Alka?” A supervising crafter, around level 60 or so walked past Alka, and noticed him staring blankly. He then quickly took a peek at Alka’s work, and answered before Alka could respond. “Everything looks good. Amazing, even. Keep up the good work.”

Alka nodded. In the Yards, the craftsmen worked with and trained with other budding dwarven alchemists and enchanters, who were also students going through their own set of challenges.

On top of that, they spent quite a bit of time testing out designs, and to a limited degree, work on the Sunsteel and Sunmetal components, mainly as assistants to more senior craftsmen. As the construction of the giant King Spiders took almost a full year, the chief engineer’s plans were plastered right at the top, and then components of it were then distributed  to each of the different groups. 

It was familiar. The golem factories and golem magic schools that emerged in the past few decades on Treehome had a similar vibe. Those institutions had a hard time recently due to the crystal shortages, but the golems have been a fairly reliable workforce that supported industrial work. 

Alka stood, and watched the group of eager fellow craftsmen trying to learn from the more senior dwarven craftsmen. Dwarves by their nature were more direct, and so, he was fairly pleased to find some of the more insidious forms of politicking were not common in the Delvegardian Yards.

There really was a fairly genuine desire to learn and be actual better craftsmen. But rivalries were common, and that manifested in duels. It was apparently such a common thing that the heroes laughed when he reported it.

“So, Alka, I heard you’re the best one in your batch.” The senior then walked over to Alka and taunted him. Alka merely shrugged. Another challenge. 

“Yes. What of it?” Humility wasn’t a strong suit for dwarves, either. Alka didn’t get to where he was without being proud of what he’s done. If he’s good, he’s good. 

“Oh. Confident! You think you can make a better war machine than me?” 

Alka looked at the senior. He was supposedly in his 3rd year, and due to the adversarial, competitive nature of the Delvegardian Yards, the craftsmen and builders would gain levels from challenging each other. “Is that a challenge, senior?”

“Yes.” The senior grinned. His batch smiled, eager to watch another fight.

“Oh, our Alka’s actually challenging the senior!” 

Alka nodded. What kind of domain holder would he be if he couldn’t even face a challenge even if he’s here with different intentions. “So, what should we do?”

“Let’s do it the old fashioned way.” The senior smiled. “Two-on-two, Lord-class war machines fight till the other gives up or the war machine’s core is destroyed.” 

Alka shrugged. “Two-on-two? Sure.” 

“You may pick one of your friends to help.”

Alka laughed. “That will not be necessary.” 

“You may be skilled, but don’t be too cocky.” The senior countered.

***

War machines. The people of Delvegard were beholden to certain ways of battle. Big towering machines, big frightening weapons and powerful beam weapons. 

It was due to the types of the battles they frequently fought, and the power levels of the large war machines. Or maybe it was the sense of security and armor plating the larger war machines had. 

But Alka had many advantages as an alchemist of his level. One area where Alka excelled is in the use of alchemical lubricants and greases, and the use of various oils and greases to improve performance was still quite primitive among the Delvegardian engineers.

“Such a small machine?” The senior taunted Alka. “And only one?”

Alka laughed, as he climbed into his small war machine. It was a small, compact war machine with small arms but engineered to attack and move with far greater speed than what most war machines were capable of. “I only need one to win, seniors.” 

“Oh?” The senior and his friend’s war machine charged. “Then don’t say we are too rough on you.”

Alka grinned, and his war machine moved faster than the other two. The lubrication in the joints meant they moved far faster than his foes. He was able to strike with pinpoint precision. He knew exactly where each of the war machine’s weaknesses were, and was able to destroy their joints with his small but powerful strikes.

The small crowd of other craftsmen watched in awe as Alka somehow systematically disassembled the two larger war machines. 

It would not be the last time when Alka was challenged by other craftsmen of the Yard. It was intentional. This would get him the attention of even more talented craftsmen who would love to battle a rising star. 

Dwarves respected ability, and just like that, the two seniors couldn’t help but be in awe of Alka, amazed. “Where- where’d you learn how to build war machines like that?”

Alka smiled, and placed his bait. “Somewhere far, far away. Would you all like to visit, someday?” If they are worth anything, they will be recruited. 

Predictably, they nodded. In fact, some of the other craftsmen in Alka’s batch even joined in. “Can we visit too, Alka?”

“Sure.” 

***

“Why do dwarves fight each other?” Alka asked during one of the regular beer gatherings in their block. Everyone was fairly happily drunk by then, and Alka made it a point to attend them regularly. So much so that he did feel quite close to these fellow students, and hoped they did  well in the future.

“Because we’re idiots.” One of the seniors answered. 

“Craftsman Alka, if you’re trying to get us to say something that’ll get us in trouble, don’t.” One of his batch countered. Alka laughed. 

“Seriously.” Alka said. “You’ve never thought about it? Craftsmen, alchemists, enchanters. The weapons we build will be used on people just like you. Other workshops build things like this, and the dwarves fight to the death with them. It would be better if conflict could be resolved in more peaceful ways.” 

“Of course.” One of the seniors said, as he drank his seventh mug of beer. “But what can we do about it? Those in power are not going to change. So long as there are kings, territories and politics, conflict is inevitable. Those who are strong do not see the problem when they exert their power over others.”

“What if there is a way out?” Alka said. “What if you don’t have to fight each other, but you can use it on the demons?”

“Demons?” The seniors looked at each other. “Wait, the demons are coming in a decade or so? Maybe two?”

“No. Now. Look outside, and look at the night sky. There are other worlds out there, all with demons. There are people fighting them everywhere.”

Those present stared at him like he was half insane. “Craftsman Alka, how many beers did you drink to say this sort of thing?” 

One of the alchemist-students in the drinking session laughed. “Have you been snorting some kind of dreaming herb, Alka?”

“Oh, it’s very real, my fellow friends. I’d love to show them to you someday. The war against the demons rage on in thousands of worlds.”

“Hah. I’ll chop up my leather belt and make soup with it if it’s real.” A senior taunted, yet Alka could tell some of them felt inspired by it.

Alka chuckled. “Oh, my good senior, I’ll take that bet.”

“When will you show us?”

Alka touched his beard. “I promise you then, within the next two years.”

“You’re on.”

He could tell that the rest of his batch were looking at him as if he was insane. But Alka had to plant the seed. Let such thoughts fester in their minds. One day, when he finally open the door and show them what exists beyond Delvegard, it will all make sense.

***

Time passed quickly, and just like that, it’s been nine months since Alka joined the Delvegardian Yards. Throughout this time, he made copies of various schematics. Their different origins meant they had design ideas that were worth looking into at great detail. They were also a significantly older institution, the Delvegardian Yards had a history of over a thousand years, which made them older than Freshka. 

Generations of craftsmen and dwarven engineers incrementally improved their workings, and Alka found that it was in small things where Treehome’s craftsmen could learn from. The slightly different ways screws and bolts were made, or how they were all welded together. Treehome generally had a rapid development of magical equipment, but there were minor efficiency differences that the Delvegardian engineers made to their tools, defensive platings and war machines that Treehome could learn from.

Alka, within that nine months, had risen the ranks. Within the Yards, most newbies were craftsmen, but they could be promoted to be senior if they were good enough. Usually, this happened after the 2nd year, because the constant honing and battles amongst the craftsmen and their war machines improved their skills.

The craftsmen and seniors of the Yards were initially skeptical, but they couldn’t match Alka’s capabilities, which were much more sophisticated than them.

This eventually caught the attention of someone higher up in the chain.

Someone knocked on the door. Ally took the door. It was one of the Yard’s senior craftsmen. He spoke to him a few times.

“Craftsmen Alka, the Block Master wishes to see you.” 

Ally nodded. “I’ll be there.”

The door closed, and Ally looked at Alka.

“Should I go? He’s been spying on us and looking into what you’ve made.”

“It’s fine. I’ll handle it. Let’s see what the Block Master wants from me.” Alka said. “I expected this confrontation for a while. I may need you to shapeshift and be his body double.”

Ally nodded, as its body transformed to resemble that of the Block Master. As a parasite spy, it was able to reconfigure the body to match its appearance, and even copy a certain set of abilities. As a Titan of Aeon, Ally’s level 80ish presence meant no one would even doubt it was the block master.

Then, Alka activated his communication ability. “Stella, I might need a portal soon. Got someone I might have to kidnap.”

“Aye.”

***

The Block Master was one of the five middle masters of the Yards, one for each of the Blocks, and they reported to the Forge Master, who was the former King of the kingdom. Each block master is individually powerful relative to the rest of Delvegard, and Alka estimated they were likely close to their level cap, at about Level 80 to 85. 

“Beer, Craftsman Alka?” The Block master offered as Alka walked into his study.

Alka nodded. There was no one here except the two. “I normally don’t drink, but if it is the block master, I will.”

The drink was spiked. A rare move from the dwarves that preferred more direct means, but Alka was immune to such weak poisons. Aeon’s familiar purged it instantly. 

The Block Master stared at him. “So tell me, Alka, who are you? Your record and innovations is unmatched from anyone in our history, and you clearly have knowledge of something that’s not from the Yards’ repository of knowledge.”

Alka smiled at the Block Master. “You clearly have some idea already, block master. Why not tell me what’s your theory, and I’ll tell you whether it’s right.”

The Block Master stared at Alka. “That’s not a way to talk to someone that is your Block Master.”

“Maybe. But I’d love to hear your thoughts.” Alka countered.

The block master stared at Alka, and Alka didn’t flinch. “Fine. My first suspicion is that you are an agent of the Airan Workshops trying to destabilize us. But I’ve looked at your war machines and realized they don’t match anything the Airan Workshops are capable of. So, if you are not from the Airan Workshops, then the only other entity able to train a genius of your level would be the highly secretive Shadow Hangars.”

Shadow Hangars. That was something Alka wasn’t aware of. It was clearly intel that Sundus was unable to obtain, because it only lingered in the very small circle of senior members of the Yards, and not frequently discussed. “Oh? And what is it about the Shadow Hangars?”

The Block Master stared. “We destroyed the Hangars thirty years ago. Are you here for vengeance? Infiltration is the sort of tactics these foul corrupted dwarves believe in.”

Alka smiled, a little amused how wrong he was. “Really? And you think I’d be here for something like vengeance?”

“Why else did you come and humiliate the rest of our craftsmen like this? Is this how the Hangars want to exert superiority? Are you here to recruit the students?”

“Well, I’m not.” Alka countered. “However, I am here to recruit your students.”

The Block master stared. “-what-”

“In fact, Block Master, I think you’re a fairly talented craftsman too. Would you like a tour of what we have to offer?”

The Block Master was horrified. “What do you mean?”

“Is that a no?”

The Block Master and Alka exchanged glances, as if he was trying to gauge Alka’s statement. 

“Would you like to see where I learned how to do what I do? I’ll take you on a trip, it wouldn’t even take long.”

“Are you serious?” The Block Master seemed fairly surprised, but decided to play along. “Then, yes. Show me where you learned how to do what you did.” The Block Master said, probably thinking Alka was just going to reveal his secret. Alka somehow blinked right next to the Block Master.

“Good. Let’s go on a little trip.” The two vanished through a void portal.

***

Alka and the block master arrived in Treehome, inside one of the many industrial buildings within the wider Freshkan area, and the block master stared. “What- what did you do?”

“What do you think about the state of Delvegard, and how the dwarven nations constantly fight each other?” Alka ignored his question. 

The Block Master looked around, and noticed the far more busy city around him. “-what- where am I?”

“Another world, Block Master. The air feels different here, doesn’t it?” 

“It does.” The Block Master kept looking around, and was trying his hardest to stop it. “Where are you taking me?”

“To where my people create weapons used to fight against our real foes. So I ask again, Block master, what do you think about the state of Delvegard? Do you think your beautiful weapons are wasted on slaughtering the lives of your fellow dwarves in your brutal battles?” 

“It- it is what we have to do. The Lords and Kings do not want to bow to others. Our kings, they are proud dwarves.”

“Pride. It’s led to such a waste of life.” Alka sighed, and the door swung open to reveal a vast industrial factory where crystal weapons were made by the thousands. The block master stared in disbelief. “I have a proposition to make to the dwarves of Delvegard, Block Master. The war between dwarves is unnecessary. Useless. Wasteful. Instead, I ask the dwarves, talented ones like yourself, to devote your efforts against the real enemies of the wider world.”

The Block Master looked at the crystal weapons. “What are you talking about?”

“Demons, Block master. Delvegard has been a lucky world, a world where the demons only come once a century. But the other worlds are not so lucky. This world once faced demons every decade.” 

The block master blinked, unable to fathom it. He was a relatively old dwarf, at about 160 to 180 years old, and he saw the demons once when they arrived about 80 to 90 years ago. It was a horrible time, but the dwarves banded together and with the help of the Dwarven Hero, pushed the demons back. The thought of such monstrosities invading the world once a decade was hard.

“Imagine for a moment, what we could achieve if Delvegardian war machines were paired with the magical equipment of my world?”

The Block Master watched for a moment, even at this distance he knew enough to get a rough sense of the sort of equipment that was being made. “You really are recruiting me?”

“Yes.” Alka said. “I will recruit everyone I can, Block master, and I want you to help me.”

“Why do you think we would join you?”

“Because now you use your weapons on your fellow dwarves while I offer to use your weapons on demons. Because now you are capped behind your levels, stuck at level 85 to 90 unable to reach beyond, while we have our ways of reaching in the steps of divinity. Because now, your people’s purpose is no more than to satisfy the whims of your kings, while we offer the chance to serve a power and purpose that would save many from these demons, and also elevate many more to join us.”

The block master stared, as Alka led him through the factories and into larger barracks made up of Valthorns preparing for their next deployment on the peripheral worlds.

“Look around you, Block Master. These are my compatriots. They will serve in battles against the demons. We have taken the battles beyond our homes and reached into the shores of the demon worlds. The dwarven blood thirsts for war, Block Master. It is why dwarves are only able to unite during the demon king crisis, but after that, the dwarves cannot help but fight each other.”

A void portal whirled in front of him, and Alka led the Block master through to the peripheral world of Sarlpi. Here, they witnessed Valthorn warriors hunt down the rest of the fire-elemental demons that still remained on Salrpi.

“I offer to take your nation’s warriors and war machines, and I offer them the glory, destruction and war of the demon lands. So, Block master. I am recruiting. Death. Blood. Destruction and Suffering awaits the warriors who join our cause, but my fellow dwarves aspire to more than just beer, politicking, and building war machines to slaughter their fellow dwarves.”

It was a long, long silence. 

Alka allowed his words to sink in, as they followed the destruction left by the Valthorns. The fire demons were torn from the skies.

The Block Master looked around the chaos of Sarlpi, and saw people he had never known existed. 

“They will not thank you.” Alka said. “But if your men itch for war, if your men are eager to show the glory of your war machines, I ask that they show them against the demons. There are hundreds, thousands of demon worlds out there to satiate your lust for war.”

“Take me to one. Show me.” The Block Master was clearly shaken, his hands trembled. His heart pounded furiously.

Alka nodded, as another portal whirled open. They landed in front of a rift gate. A void mage nearby nodded. “Opening portal to the demon world connected to Landas-”

The rift gate activated, and they were both sent to a demon world. Untouched. Landas was freed of its demon king, but the Valthorn had robbed it of its rift gates and locked it to its void coordinates. 

The demons were everywhere. Yet, Alka draped a cloak over the block master. It immediately hid him from detection. 

The domain holder led the block master through the still mostly unexplored demon world. Towering demon hatcheries were everywhere, and the stench of demonic energies was still thick. The Block master could feel it, and looked uncomfortable.

After a few hours, they stopped.

“Bring me back. I’ve seen enough. Send me back to the Yards.”

And they did. 

The Block master was back in his own office. The first thing he did was walk to his big, comfortable chair, and sat on it. He poured himself a beer, and downed the entire mug in a single gulp.

As the beer’s effects kicked in, the Block Master looked around his room. Medals from the King were pinned there. As were certain paintings of the glories of their war machines. 

After a long while, he turned to face Alka.

“You really want to recruit me?”

“Yes.”

“You do realize this is treachery and betrayal of the King, and the Forge Master of the Yards.”

Alka laughed. “Yes. If they don’t join us too, that is.”

But the face of the Block Master was one of acceptance. Maybe it was bloodlust. Maybe it was a desire to escape from mundane politicking and back into the fires of war. “The hell with all of this. Yes. Yes I will. Who else do you need?”

Alka smiled. “Everyone.”

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