"Our King has sacrificed himself!"
"Long live the King!"
"Long live the King!"
Ancient and solemn music echoed within the Hall of Ancestors as the dwarfs wept. The battle had been won, but once again, they had lost their king.
The script should have been written that way. Belegar Ironhammer would go down in history as the greatest king of Clan Angrund, remembered by all, eternally recorded in the Book of Grudges. His glorious deeds would be forever memorialized by the dwarfs.
However, a powerful weight gripped Belegar's throat. The King of Eight Peaks felt his body was about to fall apart, but the death he had awaited never came.
Opening his eyes, Belegar saw the griffon Imperius struggling to flap its wings. The Knight King, Ryan, was smiling cheerfully, gripping Belegar's cloak. When he saw Belegar open his eyes, Ryan grinned. "Belegar, my brother, you're awake! The war was a success. The Skaven and greenskins have been wiped out. Only a few managed to flee through the Deep Vein tunnels. The Hall of Ancestors has been reclaimed, and all of Eight Peaks is ours!"
"Hmph. I was just thinking about that… Brother Ryan, don't you know you've done something disrespectful? You've robbed a dwarf of his birthright—the honor of a glorious death, the right to seek an epic end?" Belegar grumbled as Ryan pulled him onto Imperius' saddle. The King of Eight Peaks felt both relieved and ashamed, muttering awkwardly, "If you weren't such a dear friend of Clan Angrund, I'd have written this into the Book of Grudges. Nothing can stop a dwarf from seeking an honorable death."
"Sure, sure." Ryan chuckled, teasing, "But I thought only Slayers did that. Even a Slayer King wouldn't rush to die so quickly, right?"
"…" Belegar remained silent, embarrassed as he recalled his earlier thoughts of his own funeral and how future generations would commemorate him. His face turned red beneath his helmet, though it was thankfully hidden.
"Your kingdom needs you, Brother Belegar. Reclaiming Eight Peaks is just the beginning," Ryan said, knowing that Belegar had heard him but was too proud to admit it. He continued, "You are their king, and they need you."
"Yes, I am their king. Without me, these little beards would be truly lost," Belegar finally laughed. "When I say they're lost without me, they really are."
"But without your help, Brother Ryan, we would have been lost too." Belegar laughed heartily, his voice hoarse and full of emotion. "Thank you, Brother Ryan. We did it. We really did it!"
The two kings exchanged smiles, their laughter echoing through the snowy peaks for a long time.
The war was mostly over. The greenskins and Skaven were nearly wiped out. The few who escaped posed no threat to the overall situation.
Karak Eight Peaks, which had been lost for over three thousand years, welcomed a new dawn.
The winter sky above gradually cleared as the clouds parted. Gentle sunlight pierced through the clouds, shining down on the land. The blue sky was so breathtaking, so refreshing.
"Victory!"
"Victory!!!"
"A great victory!"
"We've reclaimed Eight Peaks! We've won!"
"Skaven, greenskins, undead, or whatever else—nothing can stop the righteous armies of Bretonnia. No one can stand against our mighty knights. We are the strongest army in the Old World!"
"Long live King Ryan, long live King Belegar!"
The cheers from both humans and dwarfs rang out as loud as their voices could go.
From today onwards, Karak Eight Peaks returned to the hands of the dwarfs.
The Angrund Clan, displaced for more than three thousand years, had finally returned home.
---
Ten days later, at the highest point of the Hall of Ancestors in Karak Eight Peaks, in the temple of the dwarven god Grimnir.
The true King of Eight Peaks, Belegar Ironhammer, stood quietly on the cliffside, facing the plateau of Eight Peaks. Although the area had recently been cleared, centuries of greenskin destruction had left the Temple of Grimnir in ruins. Most of the ancient sculptures and buildings had been shattered, with only a few runes faintly visible.
The Hammer of Angrund and the Shield of Defiance had been recovered from the frozen lake, along with Skarsnik's bisected corpse and the remains of his beloved pet, Gobbla. Though the dwarfs had reclaimed their land, many challenges remained. Most of the fortress was in ruins and would take time to rebuild. The Titan's Gate had collapsed, and the craftsmen estimated it would take at least six months to repair it. While the Skaven in the underground tunnels had been driven out, they would undoubtedly return one day. Belegar ordered all tunnels, except those leading to Seagate, Everpeak, High Flow Pass, Hornburg, and Iron Peak, to be sealed. One day, the Deep Vein tunnels would reopen, but not now.
From today, the ancient Deep Vein network was restored. The dwarven kingdoms in the mountains would no longer fight alone. Once more, the mountain realms were united.
"Skarsnik and his Evil Moon tribe have met their deserved end, and the Skaven have been exterminated. We are safe for now," Belegar said as he knelt on one knee, placing a dwarven thunder rifle on a heavily worn rune. "None of this would have been possible without you, Harghulf. Without your sacrifice, we wouldn't be here today."
The King of Eight Peaks stood and raised his gaze to the sky.
Every dwarf's heart was tied to the deep mountains, the mines, and the sound of machines. But at that moment, Belegar found that the sky above Eight Peaks was incredibly beautiful.
The king quietly made a new vow.
I will realize the great dream of restoring Eight Peaks!
We will gather all our surviving kin and rebuild our home.
We will set aside past differences and create a new kingdom, a new glory!
We will unite, and amidst the mountains, we will forge our own destiny!
Reclaiming Eight Peaks is not the end, but a new beginning.
"Belegar, my blood." A voice called from behind. Belegar turned to see the four ancestral spirits he had summoned standing before him.
"Ancestors!" Belegar immediately knelt. "I thank you!"
"We have returned home, thanks to you and your knightly allies," said the spirit of Rune Ironhammer, the former King of Eight Peaks, nodding slowly. "You have freed us."
"Freed?" Belegar looked up in disbelief at his ancestors. "I…"
"Our power can aid you once, but only once," Rune Ironhammer told his last descendant gently. "From now on, the rest is up to you. Our strength is spent."
"Ancestors, thank you!" Belegar bowed in gratitude, watching as the ancestral spirits faded into soft light, disappearing into the Temple of Grimnir.
After everything was done, Belegar finally stood up and walked towards the center of the Hall of Ancestors.
The coronation ceremony was ready. In the time-worn, battle-scarred Hall of Ancestors, Belegar approached his throne. Bretonnian knights stood in rows on the left, while dwarfs lined up on the right.
The White Dwarf personally presided over Belegar's second coronation. From today onward, Belegar Ironhammer was the true King of Eight Peaks.
Thunderous applause filled the hall as dwarfs sang Belegar's name, celebrating the great achievements of their long campaign. The dwarf songs were so loud that even the wood elves at the end of the hall covered their ears. Araloth, the wood elf hero, couldn't bear it any longer and quickly signaled that everything was finished, leading his army out of the hall to set up camp. The elves weren't used to this environment, and they currently lived in the mining town of Scruffy Town beneath New Moon Peak and Silverhorn Peak. Part of the knightly army was stationed there as well, while others stayed at the stone watchtower in the central fortress.
Ryan stood with François and Calard, with Veronica in her fiery red leather standing behind him. Olica had changed back into her black-and-white maid outfit, with white stockings and black high heels, covered by a purple fur coat. She silently listened to her master's conversation with François, her amber eyes shifting as if deep in thought.
Ryan had already changed into his royal attire, and as he accepted the cheers of the crowd, he conversed with François. "This great expedition wasn't easy."
"Indeed," François replied, watching as the dwarfs dragged Skarsnik's bisected corpse into the hall. King Belegar and the White Dwarf, Grimbrindal, began the solemn task of removing Skarsnik's entries from the Book of Grudges. The records of Skarsnik's crimes filled two entire chapters, and erasing them all would take two hours. Ryan signaled for the knights to rest, leaving only the Old Guard behind.
This battle-hardened force had now become truly elite after facing the trials of blood and fire. François felt a tinge of envy. His Unicorn Guard was still in its formative stages. Though they had suffered minimal losses during the Battle of Valaya's Gate and the Battle of the Titan's Gate, where they were tasked with protecting the sorceress group, they still lacked the experience to become the powerful army François envisioned. Watching the lengthy and exuberant dwarf ceremony, François smiled
and asked, "How long will this strange ritual last? When do we get our share of the spoils?"
"Haha, I knew you'd ask about that." Ryan laughed and nodded, casting his gaze towards the depths of the Hall of Ancestors. "The dwarven ancestral tombs and treasure vaults are deep beneath the Hall of Ancestors. Rune Masters Thorik and Sludde are already working to open them. By the day after tomorrow, we should receive our rewards."
"Good." François remained calm, then asked, "Ryan, I assume you've already decided how to divide everything?"
"Of course." Ryan knew exactly what François meant. His father-in-law wanted an extra share of the spoils.
And it was a reasonable request. During this expedition, the Duchy of Winford had contributed the most. The Quenelles Champion Knights had nearly all participated, with about 30% casualties. Grail Knight Anterme had fallen in battle, and François had even sent his Unicorn Guard. Finally, he had personally led reinforcements. For these reasons alone, François deserved an extra share.
Ryan knew he had to be fair with rewards. The victory of this great expedition would solidify his uncontested kingship and global reputation. By handling the distribution properly, no one in the kingdom would ever challenge his authority again. He would achieve what his predecessor, King Richard, had longed for: absolute loyalty from all his subjects.
François' real message was clear: Don't get carried away, young man!
Calard didn't understand the exchange between Ryan and François. He wasn't concerned about spoils; his focus was on the scene unfolding before him. As the cheers grew louder, Belegar erased the final record of Skarsnik from the Book of Grudges, then stood and declared, "Now, it's his turn!"
"Yeah yeah yeah!"
"Settle all grudges!"
"Long live Belegar! Long live Eight Peaks!"
Several dwarfs and Old Guard soldiers dragged the bound and heavily wounded Queek Headtaker into the hall. The Skaven warlord, starved and weak, gritted his teeth and struggled but to no avail.
Belegar descended from his throne, standing proudly before his old foe. He snorted disdainfully, hands on his hips, puffed up his chest, took a deep drag from his pipe, and blew the smoke into Queek's face. "Hmph! It's your turn now, Queek!"
"No, no! This isn't how it's supposed to end, no~" Queek hissed through clenched teeth. "Just you wait, beard-thing! The Skaven horde will destroy you and your little kingdom~ yes, yes! Eight Pillar City belongs to Clan Mors!"
"Oh, really?" Belegar grinned triumphantly, placing his hand on Queek's head.
"What is that rat saying?" shouted Kazrul, a young dwarf and nephew of King Kazador of Iron Peak. His question earned him a sharp glance from his uncle, though, unusually, no rebuke followed.
Belegar paused for three seconds, his hand resting on Queek's head.
Everyone waited.
"It's afraid!"
Belegar shouted joyfully, "It fears the judgment to come! It fears us dwarfs!!!"
The hall erupted in a thunderous roar as the dwarfs all raised their weapons and shouted in excitement.
"Yeah yeah yeah!!!"
"Long live the King!!!"
"By Grungni! We've won!"
"Grimnir has blessed us!"
"Praise Valaya!"
_________________________
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