From what I can intuit, the strip mining efforts that dwarves are famed for started much later than we previously anticipated. The Holds were established already as underground cities, but their tunnelling deep into the world was only centralized after the first surface war. Whereas I have no direct source to confirm my suspicion, I can assume that they realised another surface war would destroy them. They came up not realizing the lengths that Kassandora, Elassa and Iniri would go to. To attempt it again would be to dance with extinction. In such a way, I have to praise my sister. Her philosophy proved itself. The Ocean Drains were so devastating and so effortless for us up above that they forever annihilated any concept of victory in the dwarven mindset.

  The Holds were expanded downwards. Once again, I would like to say that they Holds are set locations. There are certain locations, such as here in central Epa, that are absolutely rife with them. In the region known as the Core-Holds, they are half a day’s march from one another. In other locations, one can trek for a whole month down a Highway without seeing any semblance of civilization. The Core-Holds show that the dwarves have no issue with density and since underground all is rock, why can they not simply dig their complexes close to one another for simple ease of travel? Nevertheless, I am straying off topic.

  Whereas the Holds were grand, there is plenty of information which confirms the movement of stone. The fact that their expansion can be tracked almost perfectly with the stone-boom of the surface, where every city became walled and castles were constructed upon almost every hilltop almost to the sake of vanity supports me here. So they dug down and down and down.

  The structure of Holds should be noted here. Whereas almost all of them revolve around what they call the deep-well (the main shaft) structure, where a vertical tunnel is excavated and then colonized, with floors and bridges being constructed. Generally, such as in the Core-Holds, the deep-wells are almost vertical. Klavdiv is unique in this regard for looking at its floorplans, it is by far an exception in being as straight as a tower. The other deep-wells are typically dug at a slight angle. I note here that we are working on scales where even a Divine eye will not notice it. It is only once we get into the analysis of floorplans and witnessing how they are not centred perfectly upon each other that the pattern reveals itself.

  What pattern there is, I cannot say. Generally in the Core Holds, there is a pattern with all deep-wells being slightly curved towards where the World-Core is said to be. Levhen is wide at the bottom compared to its top. Ruka has a spiral pattern to it. Whereas the patterns are seemingly random, or just matters of taste from aesthetics, I would like to return to the “Set-Hold” hypothesis.

  The World-Core was discovered by High-King Tirill the Sunbringer. Tirill took the crown when his father, Arkan the Fool, who led the surface war, died. How is it possible that the Core Holds generally curve towards the World Core, when they did not even know of its existence? It could be chance of course, yet I have come across the mining reports; rarely is the deep-well planned. “Soft-stones”, whatever that means, “reveal the path”, whatever that means.

  - Excerpt from “Underkingdom Report, Second Edition.” Written by Malam, Goddess of Hatred.

  Olephia watched the… what would she even call it? The chopping down of trees of underground? That was no name for a painting though. The retreat of roots? That was better but it was too… vulgar. She didn’t want to focus the art on the terrified roots. She wanted it to be on the half.

  The Core Holds are put under constant siege, in accordance with the Tartarian strategy to overwhelm Anassa.

  Olephia let the procession go on for another two minutes. She stopped advancing, letting Iniri march onwards. The Goddess of Nature marched forwards, her hands feeling the air as if she was gently stroking a loved one with the most tender caress. She stood in her black uniform, outlined with green, and pointed out whenever a root would separate from the main wall of lumber blocking their access into the World Core. Those, her power would naturally rip out of the ground.

  Neneria reaches Hold Fillen, marking the end of the Western Epa-Arika North-South. She exits the underground in neutral territory.

  A tiny seedling would hurl through the air, or a branch, or a root the size of one’s finger. It would start expanding, it would fall on the path of smooth stone tiles that was being revealed and one of the dwarves in the rear would immediately charge to bring his axe down upon it. There was no squeal, no final death throes, no turning into ash. The axe would plunge into the wood, split it and the movement would stop. Olephia turned around to the humans that were in the back and covered her eyes.

  The gate to Hold Pimka, protected by Anassa, begins to move.

  Behind, the men were setting up their spotlights and dragging their wires. They aimed the blinding lamps towards the ground, others would march about and collect the scraps of wood, putting them into small bags. Those would be taken back to laboratories to analyse. Scientists who had taken off their bright yellow hazmat suits now scoured the ground with brush and camera as they worked to record absolutely everything that was happening in the moment. Olephia saved the image in her mind, that would be another painting for when she had the time. This expedition would receive an entire gallery for itself. The names would have to be recorded too, one of the paintings would simply be a hand-painted collection of everyone who had ventured down here.

  New battering rams are brought to Hold Levhen’s Eastern Gate.

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  Olephia turned back to the front. In front of Iniri, there was that huge wall of wood. Its texture constantly changed, from the smooth skin of birch to the cavernous trenches that would make up the bark of oak. Patterns would reveal themselves, at the start, Olephia had thought that there would be something revealed in that shifting wood. Some photograph, some ancient memory that would play out like a movie. Now, she didn’t know if that was true or not, but she did not that she could not see anything. Several cameras from behind were recording the entire scene for future analysis anyway.

  Hold Levhen’s Northern Gate is cracked open.

  And in front of the cowering wood worked the dwarven lumberers with their axes. Even though they moved in their heavy armours, they swung those… where they cursed? Where they blessed? Olephia did not even know what those axes were. Iniri had said they had prayers inscribed upon them but then prayers to who? Obviously it wasn’t to Iniri herself and it couldn’t be to Iri, her sister would have shared the details. She was that type of person who would share if she was the first to be worshipped. And Neneria? Olephia stared at the wood retreating from those axes. That did not seem like Neneria’s touch.

  Kawathetra is the first Core Hold to be breached whilst Anassa is recovering.

  Olephia watched from a distance as the dwarves swung their great blades, ancient steel cut through the rough skin of the wood. And each time, the wood would begin to retreat. Bark would curl inwards, the world rumbled as stone set back into position. Yet no dust fell from the ceiling of this ancient passageway. The most would be a collapse of the branches that still laced the ceiling once the flora retreated would be caught by Iniri before they hit anyone on the head. Branches would burst out from the Goddess of Nature and catch them, before bringing to the second party of dwarves who were tasked with clean-up.

  The Underground to Surface reorganisation is halted. Imperial troops reverse direction and return to the Core Holds to reinforce defences.

  And more of the passageway was revealed as they marched. Wood unfurled itself from around ancient statues of dwarven nobility. Olephia stopped to inspect each and everyone one. They were moving slowly enough to where she had time and marching through such ancient history deserved a certain level of respect. It was a statue to everyone and anyone, their heads and arms were wrapped in steel armour, all of them held an axe in their hands. All that changed was the posture and the expression. Some looked onwards with determination and an invisible, blazing flame in their eyes. Others were locked in an eternal roar, their axe gloriously raised above their heads. Olephia’s favourite though was the most recent statue, it was a dwarf sitting down, axe over his legs. The statue was taller than Olephia herself, but it was the sheer, indescribable relief painted into the stone that Olephia appreciated. What artisans they were.

  Elassa’s planning is delayed. The Goddess of Magic is sent to assist the Core Holds. Arcadia’s mages are sent to the various Holes through Epa in order to stand guard and pull them down should Tartarian forces come close.

  Olephia stared at the junction, so did Iniri and so did the dwarves. Three pathways, all flood with ancient wood. This, none of them had expected. Iniri turned to Olephia with a stupid expression on her face, Olephia returned the exact same stupid expression to her friend. Kassandora would have predicted this. Dad would have predicted this. Kavaa would have predicted, so would have Fer. From what Olephia knew of Fortia’s and Maisara’s reputation, they would have foreseen and planned for such an event too. Still smiling, she wrote out on a notebook she had requisitioned from a scientist: ‘This is how I know we both are of the arts, and not of real policy.’

  Ashen Skies begin rapid expansion in all directions once again.

  Olephia watched Iniri laugh. That would be a painting as well. The Goddess of Nature, her smile a sunshine in a land that had not once ever seen the real sun up above. Her surrounded with woods she could not control, leading dwarves who cut with axes they had forgot how to make, as Imperial bureaucracy recorded the event for all time. What a painting. Eventually her laughter died down. The dwarves separated out as they marched out to the three different pathways. There were enough of them to work the three roads, but Iniri could only assist on one. Osonev raised his axe and gave out a yell that truly sounded like a king’s shout: “Forwards cut!”

  The Imperial Fleet repels another Tartarian attempt, this time via flight, to cross the Eparika Sea.

  They had chosen to go down the centre road and not any of the side-roads. If this turned out to be a dead-end then so be it but one of Arascus’ teachings had always been that a decision made wrongly was better than the stagnation brought on by indecision. So she marched forward, Iniri ever by her side, as more and more of the underground was revealed. One of the dwarves stumbled forwards. The rest stopped and hesitated. Olephia’s eyes saw it immediately. A step. A step upwards. Iniri leaned over. “Well, that seems like we’re going the right way.”

  Admiral Callaghan is forced to recall the fleet as Ashen Skies push over the ocean.

  Olephia took another step up. A hundred stairs had been cleared, they were low, obviously made for half-men and not humans. The scientists crossed them three at a time, Olephia did six and she did not even need to left her legs too high. It was the simple distance of the

  The O-Bomb project receives an influx of scientists. The Imperial University of Central Hallin’s physics wing is temporarily shut down.

  Olephia wished she could release a sigh. Such a situation called for it. She tapped Iniri and pointed to her own throat in an attempt to communicate it. “Sorry?” Iniri asked. “What do you mean?” So another scribble had to be added into the paper, right in the corner, where there was a scrap of white paper left still untarnished by ink or pencil granite. Olephia had ran out of ink in one and used up all the lead in another: ‘Sigh for me’.

  Tidal waves start appearing on the southern Epan coastline. Callaghan reports that long-range sonar indicates Tartarus is using terraforming magic to create a land-bridge from Arika into Rilia.

  Olephia watched Iniri quizzically read the piece of paper several times. Her mouth curled into a smile. Her emerald eyes settled upon Olephia. “Goddess of Chaos, this is the funniest thing anyone has ever asked me to do.” She looked around the room as Olephia’s own lips copied Iniri’s smile. It was funny true. “But the situation calls for it.” Iniri declared. “Very well Olephia, I will sigh for you.” It was the most tired, most glorious, most needed sigh Olephia had ever heard. This moment would become a painting.

  The One-Seventeenth, under the command of Goddess Olonia, reach the northern Arika coastline.

  It was slow progress, but it was progress nonetheless.