Clank. Hiss. Thud.

The lift ground to a halt at the bottom level of Ironforge.

When they were high above, looking down from the Iron Wall, the city had looked like a marvel of engineering, a glowing, churning beast of brass and steam. But down here, in the streets? It looked like a prison.

"Watch your step," Hephaestus warned, stepping over a puddle of oil that shimmered with a sickly rainbow sheen.

"The drainage systems haven't been maintained in months. The Regent diverted all the maintenance mana to the weapon factories."

Damien pulled his hood tight, his eyes scanning the surroundings as instructed. Fortunately, it seemed the cloaks Aelinor had given them had a bit of a stealth function, so they didn't stand out too much.

The air was thick with smog that tasted of sulfur and unwashed bodies. The towering brass buildings that looked majestic from above were stained with soot and grime at street level.

And the people…

They passed a row of workshops. The doors were open, revealing hundreds of dwarves working assembly lines.

They weren't singing or drinking ale like in the stories. They were silent. Their faces were gaunt, their eyes hollow. They moved like automatons, hammering metal in a soulless rhythm.

"This doesn't look like a Golden Age," Leona muttered, her nose wrinkling at the smell of despair.

"It smells like the Slaver Pits."

Thinking of her past when she was still captured under Vargus's men, Leona recalled the lifeless eyes of the other slaves around her. The current town gave her such a feeling

To which Isabelle and Lyra, hearing this, also nodded; something didn't sit right with them about the city.

"It wasn't always like this," Hephaestus said as he noticed their thoughts, his voice bitter.

He looked at a statue of his father, King Durin, that had now been defaced with graffiti.

"Before my father… fell ill… the forges were for art. For creation. Now? We just build cannons and build walls."

He clenched his wrench until his knuckles turned white.

"Since my Uncle took over as Regent, he calls it 'Efficiency.' I call it slavery."

"Hey! Give it back!"

A high-pitched shout cut through the noise of the steam vents.

Damien stopped. He looked down an alleyway to his left.

Three burly, teenage dwarves, wearing the armbands of the City Guard Youth, were surrounding two smaller figures.

A small, dwarf boy, no older than ten, stood defiantly in front of a little girl who was clutching a rusted mechanical toy.

He was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, holding a broken pipe like a sword.

"Get lost, scrap-rat!" The leader of the bullies laughed, kicking the boy in the stomach.

Bam!

The boy flew back, hitting the wall, but he scrambled up immediately, spitting blood.

"Don't touch her!" The boy screamed, his voice trembling but fierce. "That's our father's property! You can't take it!"

"It's contraband," the bully sneered.

"Scrap metal belongs to the Regent. Hand it over, or we'll take your hand instead."

He raised a heavy iron club.

The little girl started to cry.

Hephaestus growled, reaching for his multi-tool. "Those bastards—"

"Wait," Damien put a hand on the Prince's shoulder.

"Let us handle it. You are a Prince. If you intervene, it becomes a political incident. If we intervene… It's just a street fight."

Not wanting to attract unnecessary eyes, he knew Damien knew he could not allow this hot-headed prince to flare things up

Thinking of this, he looked at Isabelle.

"Hungry?"

Isabelle's eyes flashed red. She hated bullies. She hated people who hurt children. It reminded her of the cage she was found in.

"Starving," she whispered.

She didn't use magic. She didn't need to, for such a small group of bullies, only her fists where enough

Thinking of that, she walked into the alley.

"Hey!" The bully shouted, turning around. "This is official busine—"

Slap.

Isabelle didn't bother to listen to him and backhanded him on the spot.

CRACK.

The sound was like a whip. The bully spun 360 degrees in the air before face-planting into the mud, unconscious.

The other two bullies froze. They looked at the maid who was smiling sweetly at them.

"My Young Master doesn't like noise," Isabelle said, cracking her knuckles. "And you are being very noisy."

"M-Monster!" The bullies scrambled over their fallen leader and ran, their 'official business' forgotten.

Isabelle sighed, dusting off her hands. She turned to the two terrified children.

"Are you okay?"

The boy lowered his pipe, eyeing her warily. "We… we don't have any money."

"I don't want money," Isabelle reached into her apron pocket.

She pulled out two large, steaming meat buns she had bought from a street vendor earlier, she always carried snacks given her ravenous appetite.

"Here." She handed one to the girl and one to the boy. "Eat. You can't fight if you're empty."

The girl hesitated, then snatched the bun and devoured it. The boy looked at Isabelle, then at the bun, tears welling in his eyes.

"Thank you, big sister," he whispered.

Damien walked up, flanked by Leona and Lyra. He looked at the boy. The kid had spirit.

"Go home, kid," Damien flicked a gold coin to the boy. "Hide that toy. The streets aren't safe tonight."

As the kids ran off, clutching their food and their treasure, Damien turned to Hephaestus. The amusement was gone from his face.

"Hephaestus," Damien said, his voice dropping to a serious whisper. "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"About your Uncle," Damien said, gesturing to the grim city around them.

"This isn't just 'bad leadership.' Starving the people? Purging the loyalists? Hoarding weapons?"

Damien looked up at the palace that loomed over the city, wreathed in black smoke.

"That's not how a Regent acts when he's guarding the throne," Damien said coldly.

"That's how a Usurper acts when he's preparing for a war."

Hephaestus's face turned sour. The grease on his cheeks couldn't hide the sudden pallor of his skin.

He looked around nervously, then motioned for them to follow him quickly.

"Not here," the Prince hissed, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and rage.

"The walls have ears. I… I will tell you everything. But we have to get to the workshop first."

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