Was the High King joking?
Ryan couldn't quite grasp what Thorgrim meant. An army of 100,000?
The Kingdom of Bretonnia had experienced a golden age, roughly from the reign of the third knightly king, "White Death" Guillaume, up until the eve of the Dol Tower Incident during the reign of "Righteous" Jules. During that period, Bretonnia had fought off Chaos from the north, engaged in naval battles against the Tomb Kings and Dark Elves in the west, waged war in Araby and the desert of Nehekhara to the south, and eradicated all greenskins from within its borders, keeping them at bay for over two centuries. The farthest knightly forces even reached Lustria, representing the epitome of martial virtue. Yet, according to records from the Palace of Couronne during that time, the entirety of Bretonnia's military, including the standing army, knightly lords, their squires, and retainers (excluding peasant levies), numbered only around 100,000.
And now?
After multiple large-scale wars, the total number of knights (those who could afford their equipment) and knightly squires (those eligible to serve) was less than 30,000. Even including their retainers, who were free soldiers, the number would barely reach 60,000. To muster an army of 100,000, they would need to recruit a massive number of peasant infantry, but doing so would leave the kingdom defenseless against any possible invasions.
100,000 troops—was Thorgrim serious? Was he joking, or just ignorant?
Furrowing his brow, Ryan doubted Thorgrim was ignorant. The Grudge Bearer was renowned for his wisdom and steadiness. He had traveled the Old World and was well-versed in human realms. He surely had an accurate estimate of how many men Bretonnia could muster. He couldn't be that unaware.
"You're probably wondering how the dwarves can afford that much money, aren't you?" Thorgrim asked, bluntly continuing. He paused his meal, stroking his beard, and gestured to the array of silverware before him, each piece with its own specific purpose. "You know nothing of the Eternal Peak's treasury, young man. I can offer you very generous pay. A typical knight's yearly income is about a hundred gold crowns, right? For the dwarves, that's a mere thirty-odd crowns. I can pay you fifty dwarven gold crowns per knight per year. How about that? As for the rest, I'll pay two-thirds higher than the standard rate for imperial mercenaries. How does that sound?"
The offer was indeed generous, and after seeing the treasure hoard of Eight Peaks Mountain, Ryan had no doubt that Thorgrim could afford it. Ryan furrowed his brow slightly, thinking carefully. He didn't rush to refuse, nor did he admit that Bretonnia couldn't muster 100,000 troops. Instead, he said, "I think defending the Badlands doesn't require so many men. I believe..."
"Doesn't need that many men? Hahaha!" Thorgrim interrupted him with a cold laugh. "Look at my beard, young man. Look at my beard! You, who can't even grow a proper beard, have dealt with less than one percent of the greenskins I have. What makes you think you know how many men are needed to defend Eight Peaks Mountain?"
"For over a year, in dozens of battles, our combined forces with Belegar have crushed countless greenskin tribes, wiped out Skarsnik and his Crooked Moon tribe, destroyed the Skaven Clan Mors' headquarters, and defeated Queek Headtaker. Afterward, Belegar and I cleared out numerous small greenskin tribes around Eight Peaks. For the next few years, perhaps even the next twenty, Eight Peaks won't face a major 'waaagh!'" Ryan said sincerely. "Therefore, I don't think we need to station such a large army there. Eight Peaks is in the early stages of recovery and doesn't have the capacity to supply that many troops."
While greenskins certainly had a reproductive advantage over dwarves, they didn't spawn hundreds of thousands in mere months. After suffering such heavy losses, it would take at least a decade for the greenskins around Eight Peaks to recover and begin growing more mushrooms. Only after a long process of infighting and "Great Green Fights" would a warlord emerge to unify the tribes into a great "waaagh!" Even Skarsnik had taken decades to achieve this.
"I'll take care of the supplies, young man. What do you know about logistics?" Thorgrim gave Ryan a sideways glance while spearing a juicy lamb chop with his fork and bringing it to his mouth. "And why do you think this is enough? Have you ever seen a real 'waaagh!'? Have you faced it? Have you seen it with your own eyes? Have you ever confronted a real greenskin warboss? Don't talk to me about your fight with Skarsnik. That goblin was cunning, yes, but in terms of combat strength and his army, he's only middle-tier among the greenskins. Have you ever dealt with Gorro the Gutsmasher? Ironclaw Gobbad? Or perhaps Grimgor Ironhide?"
"..." Ryan remained silent. In his mind, he cursed, This old dwarf is just using his seniority to belittle me!
Ryan knew he was at a disadvantage in this argument. After all, he was much younger than Thorgrim, who had lived for a thousand years. With that experience, Thorgrim had the upper hand, and Ryan had no way to counter it.
"I'm telling you, if Grimgor Ironhide and his Black Orc 'Immortulz' show up at Eight Peaks, even with 100,000 men, you wouldn't stand a chance!" Thorgrim continued to press, his voice heavy with authority. "100,000 is absolutely necessary. You have no idea how dangerous Grimgor is!"
"But the last time Grimgor appeared was in the northern World's Edge Mountains, in the Hell Pit of Kislev. After slaughtering tens of thousands of Skaven, he headed east toward the Kurgan steppes," Ryan quickly countered. "He's thousands of miles away from Eight Peaks. We shouldn't take that into account."
"Grimgor will tire of killing Kurgan one day! I know him! He'll return. He always does," Thorgrim shot back, interrupting Ryan again. "Who knows Grimgor better? You or me? I'm telling you, the Book of Grudges has three entire chapters dedicated to him!"
Let him come, then! Ryan's blood boiled at Thorgrim's words. As the King of Bretonnia, the Champion of the Lady of the Lake, and the Primarch of the Grey Knights, a son of the Emperor, do you think I'd fear some greenskin warlord like Grimgor? Bring it on!
Ryan's whole body tensed, and he almost blurted out his thoughts. But when he looked up, he saw Thorgrim's cold sneer. The High King was leisurely eating his lamb chop, as if fully expecting Ryan's reaction.
Right… From the moment this conversation started, Thorgrim had been in complete control. Ryan realized that Thorgrim had been dictating the pace of the discussion from the very beginning.
Every topic, every shift in tone—Thorgrim had led Ryan through the entire conversation.
Realizing this, Ryan gritted his teeth, forcing down his anger. Pretending to be thirsty, he poured himself a large mug of Bugman's black beer and took a big gulp. Then, he lowered his head, using the knife and fork to cut into the lamb chop, closing his eyes to savor the taste.
Hmm… a bit salty, Ryan thought. Dwarves always favored strong flavors.
How could he regain control of the conversation? Ryan chewed thoughtfully, calming his inner frustration and considering his next move.
Thorgrim didn't seem in a hurry. He slowly ate, patiently waiting for Ryan to respond.
After three minutes, Ryan finally spoke. "Your Majesty, if Grimgor Ironhide is so formidable, then even 100,000 men won't be enough. To Grimgor, humans are just targets for slaughter. I believe we need to think differently."
"Think differently? In what way?" Thorgrim asked, intrigued, though his tone remained dismissive. "Young man, think carefully before you speak. You young humans… you do have one advantage—you run around the world even faster than those pointy-eared elves. But your questions and perspectives are always so shallow, sometimes downright childish. Understand?"
"Absolutely!" To Thorgrim's surprise, Ryan admitted his shortcomings with a smile. "That's why I believe the dwarves should be the ones to defend Eight Peaks. After all, 'one dwarf is worth ten greenskins.' Relying too much on us humans for defense is just unrealistic."
"The dwarves are stronger than humans, but we don't have the population," Thorgrim interrupted again. "Eternal Peak only has 150,000 dwarves left. That's far from the million we once had at our peak. Whether it's at High Pass, Butcher's Fort, or Sea Gate Pass, we don't have the resources to help Eight Peaks. Otherwise, why do you think we'd ask you for help?"
"But there are places with people!" Ryan spread his hands, feigning innocence. "Norsca, Iron Dragon Hold! The Norscan dwarves have a significant population. I've heard from Belegar that Iron Dragon Hold alone houses over 20,000 adult dwarves! The total population of the Norscan dwarves exceeds 100,000.
Your Majesty, the 100,000 troops you want are right there!"
Ryan wasn't wrong.
Besides the fortresses in the World's Edge, Grey, and Black Mountains, there was another large population of dwarves living in the northern mountains of Norsca and the Mourning Mountains. These dwarves were collectively known as the Norscan dwarves.
The Norscan dwarves were the descendants of the dwarf armies and explorers left behind by the ancestor gods when they attempted to close the Old Ones' warp gates in the north. After discovering the rich mineral deposits in the Norscan mountains, they decided to settle there and built numerous fortresses. When the ancestor god Grungni learned of the Chaos invasion, he sent messengers to warn the Norscan dwarves, giving them ample time to seal their fortresses and prepare for defense. When the Chaos hordes arrived, they found the dwarves had built ten layers of defenses, ready to withstand the assault.
The siege of Iron Dragon Hold lasted decades. The Chaos army only breached the outermost three layers before becoming frustrated by the lack of victory or bloodshed. After a massive snowstorm, the Chaos forces retreated south, leaving the Norscan dwarves isolated and out of contact with their kin for centuries.
It wasn't until the Great Holy War that the Norscan dwarves emerged from their underground rivers to aid the Empire, finally reuniting with the dwarves of the mountain empire after thousands of years.
Despite being on the frontlines, the Norscan dwarves were numerous and resilient. Today, Norsca still had four major dwarf fortresses: Iron Dragon Hold, Thunder Hold, Raven's Nest, and Eagle Peak, along with over a dozen smaller fortresses scattered across the Norscan mountains. The most populous, Iron Dragon Hold, had over 20,000 adult dwarves, while the total population of the Norscan dwarves was conservatively estimated to exceed 100,000.
"Do you think I haven't tried? I've sent three waves of messengers, but King Thorgard the Crimson of Iron Dragon Hold simply refuses!" Thorgrim instinctively rebuffed, but then he paused, cutting himself off and returning to his meal.
Damn, I let this young man lead me into his pace, Thorgrim thought while chewing his lamb.
This young man... he's not simple.
Thorgrim had indeed tried to convince the Norscan dwarves to return to the Mountain Kingdom, but they had collectively refused. The first reason was that dwarves wouldn't abandon their homes unless absolutely necessary, and after so many years apart, the Norscan dwarves respected the High King but didn't feel bound to follow him.
The second reason was that the Norscan dwarves were incredibly wealthy. The Norscan mountains were rich in iron, precious metals (mainly silver), and gem deposits. Their valleys held vast reserves of amber, and the mountainous coastlines teeming with wildlife provided ample hunting, while the rivers and seas were abundant with fish. These resources were so plentiful that the Norscan dwarves could mine endlessly from open pits.
Normally, a mineral vein takes tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands, of years to form. But in the Norscan mountains, constantly exposed to the winds of Chaos, new veins formed every few decades. The Norscan dwarves had an endless supply of resources, all from open-pit mining.
Don't ask why—because Chaos doesn't care about reason or logic.
With such bountiful resources, the Norscan dwarves had no interest in returning to the Mountain Kingdom.
"The north? Those dwarves are accustomed to living there. They won't move to Eight Peaks," Thorgrim grumbled. "Your suggestion isn't realistic."
"But what good are those isolated Norscan dwarves in the north?" Ryan pressed. "We need to consolidate our strength, create contingency plans. Leaving 100,000 dwarves isolated in Norsca is a waste. They won't be able to hold off a Chaos invasion. Wouldn't it be better to bring them back? Am I right, Your Majesty? You said you were wealthy, that you didn't care about paying for mercenaries. So why not, instead of relying on us humans, bring the Norscan dwarves south?"
Thorgrim raised his head, scrutinizing Ryan as if seeing him anew. His long white beard swayed back and forth as he pondered. The High King's sharp gaze bore into Ryan, full of regal authority. "You, a young man barely 40, how could you possibly know so much about Norsca and Iron Dragon Hold? Why would Belegar tell you all this irrelevant information? Those Norscan dwarves won't even join the Angrund Clan!"
"This is just my own idea!" Ryan blurted out, startled. He continued, "Isn't the dwarven strategy now to focus on strategic withdrawal?"
"Hmph! Your idea? I don't believe it! You've been completely manipulated by that fool! You young people need to be careful not to chase every bit of news you hear. As a king, you must judge for yourself what's feasible and what's not. Repeating impossible ideas just makes you complicit!" Thorgrim suddenly shook his head and stared directly at Ryan. "So, who was it? Was it Belegar, your regent, or one of your courtiers who suggested relocating the Norscan dwarves? Who gave you this idea?"
"I want the truth!"
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