Aftermath.

Excerpts from the book of Erith, 22;24

15th Malacite, 1054

Much time has passed since I last had time to record the events of Edem Rimtar,  and there are many things I do not know. I will try to recount all I can before I slip once more into troubled dreams. I have to rely on the counsels of Adil to fill in the holes in my knowledge, for it seems that I have spent the last four months flat on my back unconscious in the infirmary.  There is little I remember about the accident, just a few hazy memories, but Adil tells me that a giant tree fell through the storeroom ceiling, crushing three dwarves, and nearly killing me.  My left forearm, Adil tells me snapped like a twig and even now four months later it throbs with a pain which threatens to overwhelm me completely. Inquiring why it has not healed, I was informed that the only bonesetter in the camp refused to heal my injury, and as a result, Adil has personally had to re-break my arm several times while I lay asleep, so the bone would not heal at an odd angle and leave me a cripple, for this I am eternally grateful to him. He has been a great comfort to me these past days, reading to me as I sweat through my frequent fevers, and comforting me with kind words, he is a fine and noble dwarf, and will no doubt make a worthy husband.

Strange to me at first, was the fact that though I have been awake for many days now and word surely has spread throughout the warren, I have yet to receive a visit from Urdim. Adil explained to me that Urdim is extremely displeased with me, for it was through my negligence as chief architect that the accident was allowed to happen, and also by my negligence that Muthkat, one of the six chosen by Armok himself, was slain by a jagged branch which stabbed through the storeroom roof, killing him instantly.  I cannot blame her, I deserve her ire. I have failed in my duties! My failure is far more grave than just the loss of a friend and peer, however. Using the death of one of the chosen as proof of the impotence of our god, we have lost our tenuous hold on the hearts and minds of the unbelievers, and in so doing they no longer respect our word as law, we are forced to live in the same vile conditions we faced in Fallstanford warren! The rabble, led by the treacherous, backstabbing heathen Kubuk, have gone so far as to form their own firth, and now are pushing to elect for us a mayor, as if the word of the prophet of Armok is not enough.  They even took the bodies of the two dwarves killed alongside Muthkat and entombed them in cinnibar coffins, denying Armok his rightful feast.

Things hang a beardhair away from chaos, and anarchy here, the military under the loyal and pious Cerol, remain true to Armok and Urdim, thank the stone, so we still hold a monopoly on force, but it is fragile as we are outnumbered gravely. Immigrant settlers from a far away dwarvenhold arrived some time ago and although some were touched by the voice of Armok, the majority, loath to give up their native gods, immediately fell in with the lax discipline and hedonism of the heathen sect. We are but 20 believers, armed well, but surrounded by 62 unbelievers. The situation will become grim indeed soon, as we cannot stop them now from crafting their own wares in the now open-to-all workshops, and using them to trade with the caravans for weapons and tools.  It is clear to me now that only way we can hope to find the labor needed to construct the grand monument to our god, is to compromise with these others, mandates and coercion will not work any longer.

As soon as I am able to walk and speak correctly, I will go to Urdim to beg forgiveness, and ask that we take this new middle path towards the glory of Armok. If things come to direct vote, we may still hold the majority, since I can see already that the others are divided into small factions and rivalries. There may be hope yet of electing a mayor sympathetic to our holy cause.

On a more practical note, we have managed to aquire some good dwarven seed from a trader, and we now have planted and harvest the first crops, an activity that everyone agrees is too important for our survival to squabble over. It was a good harvest, and our food stocks are filling, albeit slowly with 82 mouths to feed.

Everyone can agree on some things

I have instructed Adil to do a survey of the workspaces and storerooms, and will soon start streamlining out production by sorting out the now cluttered and haphazard stacks of barrels and goods into something approaching order. I have also begun drafting plans for a new guardhouse to be built over top of the wooden palisade now adorning our eastern gate. I remain hopeful that all dwarves here will recognize my vast knowledge and experience in drafting plans for such projects, and see the logic in stout defenses in a dangerous world. I must rest now, writing with my right hand is taxing on me and I fear the strain has worn me out.