A ragtag group of youths ran through the long halls of Durthangrim's tunnels. At their head, a young woman, stout and large, wearing a grimace that looked capable of grinding even the strongest stone to dust. Behind her, a young dwarf—yet somehow already balding—his visage equally dour, his face practically carved from stone.

To the dwarf's side was a wiry man with a wild look in his eyes, his lanky arms and legs lending his gait an eerie, loping quality as he ran. Behind him was a well-dressed, dapper young man who, were one to go by the look on his face, might as well be heading to afternoon tea, his face completely impassive.

The group ran as if the Dark itself were on their heels. They ran down long flights of stairs, forgoing the lifts entirely. Most took the stairs three at a time, while the dwarf took more steps but kept pace with the group, as though neither the extra exertion nor the large ax on his back was much of a burden—at least, not physically. The drips of blood that pattered off the ax blade behind him as he ran told a story of mental burden.

"Guards!" the lanky man shouted, pointing at a crossroads ahead.

Armored dwarves poured out of the corridor into the hall, mounting their shields into the ground, as if preparing for the charge from a pack of wild animals.

"I got it!" Cass shouted as she melted into the stone floor, disappearing from sight.

Suddenly, the ground around the guards began to melt, the stone liquefying and pulling at them like quicksand. They sank quickly, whether due to their heavy armor and weapons or the will directing the rock to swallow them. Soon, only their heads remained above the ground, eyes glancing around helplessly as they struggled beneath the surface of the now-hardened ground.

Cass popped out of the floor as if spat, motioning the group onward and continuing down the hall.

The group sprinted past the barricades and into the deep tunnels. These were the 'wilderness' of the underground. The tunnels were uncontrolled territory where one could find nearly anything: wild, dangerous animals, bandits, even entire civilizations. Territory in the deep tunnels, although uncontrolled officially, was seldom uncontested. Various creatures, gangs, and kingdoms constantly vied for control of the richest passages.

It was here that they made their home.

Cass's stoneshaping made carving out their own domicile in one of the less-used, resource-sparse tunnels trivial, and the various members' connections ensured they had a reliable stream of resources to remain undiscovered in perpetuity. It was safe—supposed to be, anyway.

How did this happen? Cass thought.

Threindil had made it clear before he left that he knew Cass was up to something, but he hadn't tried to stop her—only dissuade her. He probably thought he was being cryptic. He was always underestimating her. She knew exactly what he thought of her: hotheaded, wild, undisciplined.

All those things were true, but she was not as unobservant as he assumed. Being ill-tempered didn't mean she failed to notice subtleties.

It'd been over fifteen years since he'd taken Cass in off the streets. He'd raised her like his own daughter, and she thought of him as a father. She was eternally grateful, but their philosophies were also constantly at odds.

For fifteen years, he'd been stopping Cass or persuading her to hold her anger, to turn away and ignore the violence and oppression that the SoDD inflicted on the non-dwarven populace. And yet, for fifteen years, nothing had changed. On the contrary, things had gotten worse.

People were beaten in the streets by the thugs the SoDD hired as 'enforcers', which was itself a brand new organization. They claimed it was formed due to an increase in crime and the need to give non-dwarves 'a presence' in the city's management, but Cass wasn't stupid—she knew exactly what it was.

A wedge.

Non-dwarves and dwarves not belonging to the SoDD outnumbered the SoDD dwarves in this city five to one, so if there were ever an organized resistance, the SoDD would be at a severe disadvantage. Thus, they sought to divide the populace.

By creating these enforcers and other organizations like them, they indebted portions of the non-SoDD populace to them, making their lives and livelihoods contingent on the SoDD maintaining their power and control.

Suddenly, instead of a two-way conflict between the SoDD and non-SoDD, it was a three-way conflict between the SoDD, non-SoDD, and the SoDD-dependent.

Cass called it "The Wedge," but it was such a ubiquitous tactic by people in power that Threindil had identified it and explained it to her many years ago, claiming he'd seen it everywhere. In every place where a minority of people tried to maintain control over the majority, dividing up the majority into smaller groups and encouraging in-fighting would be a useful mechanism of control.

Yet, despite his knowledge of the tactic and how cruel it was, despite his personal power and influence, Threindil hadn't ever done anything to change it. He'd never lifted his hand to help the downtrodden and weak. He'd never spoken truth to power. Why had he even taken Cass in, come to think of it? She was far from the only starving child on the Durthangrim streets. Was it just a whim? A flight of fancy?

She would always be grateful to her dad, but her morals were her own. And if she had the power to improve people's lives, she was going to use it.

That was her thought when she led her small 'resistance' group to the market this morning. They'd been working for weeks to organize this formal protest. The inner markets were restricted to SoDD members, so the idea with this protest was that civilians would gather and march on those markets. They would flood the inner markets in such numbers that the enforcers would be pressed to remove them all.

Key to this activity was non-violence. There would be no shoving, no hitting, and no assault. People would line up in front of the gate to the inner markets and flood it. The enforcers would likely be able to push many back, but even more would make it through due to the sheer number disparity.

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Once in the inner markets, a demonstration would be arranged, whereby the civilians would sit in the central square and refuse to leave. Eventually, they would be escorted out, of course, but at least this would place their cause directly in people's faces.

Often, the fulcrum on which oppression turns is ignorance. Forcing people to look at that oppression—making it impossible to look away, to pretend it doesn't exist—is the first and biggest step toward real change.

The first hiccup was how unexpectedly violent the enforcers were. Cass didn't know if they'd been tipped off somehow, but they were heavily armed, as if expecting the protest. They bore shiny steel plates, with large tower shields and pikes. This immediately rang alarm bells in Cass's head, as they looked outfitted for war, not a demonstration.

Still, the numbers strategy had worked. Despite the enforcers waving their pikes around in a show of intimidation, the thousands of civilians had simply been too much. It started as a trickle—one or two civilians slipping past the enforcers' guards here and there—before the crowd descended on the gate. Once people were through the gate in numbers, the enforcers simply retreated to the inner market, presumably to regroup.

The second hiccup was found in the inner market. It was at this point that Cass realized they had certainly been sold out, for the entire market was abandoned, save for the veritable army of enforcers lined up in the square.

The center of the market, called Forgeblood Square, was wide open, but it was recessed a few steps into the ground, with a large fountain in the center. The slight decrease in elevation allowed the piping for the fountain to be hidden, and any maintenance on those pipes could be conducted without interrupting the square above.

The enforcers were lined in rows, four deep. Their shields were braced against the ground, pikes out, and the lines looked ready to swap members in and out, as though this were an actual military campaign.

The biggest mistake Cass's group made that day was not calling a retreat right then and there. Due to the show of force from the enforcers at the gate, they'd assumed this was the same: pageantry. They marched on the square arm-in-arm, heads held high.

There was a tense moment as the masses surrounded the enforcers where pikes were being waved, and the crowd waxed and waned like an ocean tide, constantly approaching the enforcers and backing off as weapons were bared.

Cass wasn't sure who started it specifically, but before long, rocks and trash and other debris were being thrown at the enforcers. This was strictly against the spirit of the march, which was meant to be peaceful. Although she didn't see who threw the first stones, she noticed the majority of the initial throwers were dwarves.

The tip-off that the enforcers had received about the protest, the dwarves throwing stones and openly antagonizing the enforcers…she didn't want to fall to conspiracy without evidence, but the setup was suspicious. She began to suspect there were SoDD plants within the demonstrators. If that was the case, this protest was doomed from its inception.

Once again, she didn't see what happened with the press and chaos of the crowd, but enraged shouts began to permeate the air. Standing on her toes, Cass managed to see the source: one of the protesters was on his knees, blood running from a hole in his chest. In the enforcer line, one of their number was on his back on the ground, motionless, blood dripping from under his dented helm.

Civilian-thrown rocks shouldn't be capable of damaging a steel helmet like that.

She didn't have time to contemplate, as absolute chaos unfolded like water pouring from a broken dam.

Enforcers began stabbing into the crowd, unconcerned about civilian casualties. Most civilians panicked and fled, tripping and falling over each other. Anyone that fell was unlikely to survive, as the press from the crowd ensured they'd be trampled, regardless of what anyone in the crowd actually wanted.

Cass and her group stood motionless in the initial chaos, unsure what to do. However, the situation changed when the actual SoDD military appeared on the other end of the square. They were armed and armored, ready for combat, and already in formation as they marched on the square to support the enforcers.

The formal SoDD military's rapid, organized response drove it home for Cass: the entire event had been co-opted. The square was clear of all parties save for the protesters, enforcers, and military. When the SoDD issued a statement later, they would say that a violent rebellion had been thoroughly and effectively squashed, and the only voices to oppose that narrative would be the "violent rebels" themselves.

To those looking in from the outside, the event would be a failed uprising. To those in the know, this event would be called the Forgeblood Square Massacre.

After covering the civilians' retreat, in direct opposition and conflict with the enforcers and military, Cass's group headed for their refuge in the tunnels. Suspecting foul play, they couldn't be sure that their homes within Durthangrim would be safe. How much did the SoDD know? They weren't sure, and that uncertainty was dangerous.

"What now?" Gravin asked, huffing and puffing as he closed the door to the hideout behind him—his wasn't a very physical Class.

"We'll have to lie low for a while. See how long it takes to blow over—" Cass started.

The door to their hideout suddenly blasted open, ripping its hinges from the wall and flying across the room to slam into the opposite wall. SoDD military forces flooded the entry hall before forming into ranks and advancing on the group.

The hideout was not large—Cass had only opened enough space for the four to coexist comfortably. The interior was perhaps equivalent to an average-sized house, so the row of militants pressing in on the group made the space feel cramped and oppressive.

Cass immediately held her arms out, the other three gathering behind her. They had planned for the event where their hideout was compromised, and they were ready. Cass was set to close the entrance and start carving a new path out of the safehouse, but to her surprise, the soldiers halted their advance.

Two soldiers moved among the ranks to stand at either side, almost pressed against the walls of the domicile. They placed their hands on the walls, and Cass could see mana begin to flow into the rock around them—Stone Tuners, then. These were the artillery of the SoDD forces. Manipulating rock in an underground space was a powerful ability—Cass knew this firsthand.

She analyzed the mana flow and became confused. She thought they must be trying to bring the ceiling down on her group, yet the opposite was happening—they were strengthening the rock above their own heads. Why would they do that—

Boom!

A shockwave blasted through the room, sending hair fluttering and bursting ear drums. Cass and her group staggered from the sudden blast, and the ground quaked so violently that both Vinren and Gravin fell, only Cass and Dunstraag remaining upright.

Still the military remained in place, merely holding the line as their Stone Tuners strengthened the walls, ceiling, and floor around them. They must be trying to prevent only their section of the room from collapsing—oh fuck.

Cass realized too late. She flooded her mana into the stone around her group, but the violent quake had already dislodged huge chunks of the ceiling above them. She shifted the path of the falling debris away, but the force of it hitting the ground strained the already-sagging floor beyond capacity. It crumbled and fell, dropping Cass's group into the dark chasm below.

Cass stared into the darkness as she fell, coming to terms with the possibility that this could be her end. However, she began to feel something—a presence.

There was something down there in the darkness—it was waiting for them.

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