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The Cursed Blue Rose
Lokivi sits where the north-western boreal forest finally runs out of ground: spruce and pine on the landward side, a river cutting through the middle of it, salt water waiting at the river's end. Most of the hold is below. Shafts drop through the root-mat into cold rock, and the galleries follow seams of gemstone rather than common ore, which makes the work slower, the yield smaller and a good week worth a great deal. What comes up is picked over on long washing tables at the water's edge, graded under lamps, then cut and polished in workshops kept warm through winters that take most of the year. The forest supplies props, charcoal and fuel; the river supplies the road out.
This is one of the original dwarven foundations, and the age of it shows in the stonework under the pines. Its people are dwarves and so are all sons, crafted rather than born, and a son takes his first place at a cutting bench beside the hand that made him. Gemstone is the whole of the living here, and almost none of it stays. Lokivi answers to Kotori, and its stone travels that road.