Translator: CinderTL
"Lord Marquis, is military action still on the table?" Viscount Helsen asked, his voice tinged with sadness.
Back at Forgehold, he had passionately discussed his mission of peace with Balash, only to see his own lord now plotting to seize the dwarves' territory. Helsen didn't believe the dwarves would simply surrender their ancestral homeland.
"We must consider all possibilities," Paul replied without denying it.
Helsen fell silent for a moment before sighing. "If you truly intend to proceed," he said slowly, a hint of resignation in his voice, "I suggest targeting their mountain creations."
He paused, his gaze fixed on the flickering candlelight dancing across the walls, as if recalling the underground world of Forgehold.
"The dwarves' greatest advantage on their own territory isn't their weapons or combat skills, but the intricate network of tunnels and hidden fortresses deep within the mountains," he continued, his tone growing increasingly serious. "Their tunnels serve not only as transportation routes but also as the core of their defense. Some extend from the mountain's base to its summit, while others connect multiple halls and mines, forming a complex web. And their fortresses, built deep inside the mountains, are virtually impregnable, nearly impossible to conquer."
He paused, as if preparing for what he was about to say. "But these very creations have also become their Achilles' heel."
Everyone leaned forward, listening intently.
"When I was at Forgehold," Helsen continued, "I heard the locals proudly boast that these tunnels and fortresses had been carved, expanded, and reinforced by generations of dwarves, starting with their ancestors. Some passages even date back over three thousand years."
He looked up at Paul. "If we could destroy these creations... it would be a devastating blow to the dwarves, not just militarily, but spiritually as well."
His voice grew heavy. "It would be the destruction of their entire history and culture."
"And once these creations are destroyed, they cannot be restored quickly. They weren't built by a single generation, but by the accumulated efforts of countless dwarves over millennia. No one could rebuild a thousand-year-old fortress in just a few years."
Helsen lowered his voice. "Lord Grayman, I'm proposing this not because I want to, but because... if peace truly fails, we must be prepared for the worst." His eyes held a hint of weariness. "Of course, I pray that day never comes."
The candlelight flickered gently, casting shadows across Paul's thoughtful face.
"If we're truly considering this path," he asked, "can gunpowder be of any use?"
All eyes turned to Helsen once more.
Helsen paused, then shook his head. "I've seen workers use gunpowder to blast mountains for quarrying," he said slowly. "But the tunnels and fortresses built by the dwarves... they're not ordinary rock formations."
He seemed to recall the scene of an explosion. "Gunpowder can indeed blast through rock walls, but its power is limited, at most creating a crater a few meters deep. The dwarves' tunnels, however, were carved with meticulous craftsmanship, some even reinforced with metal. Moreover, their underground structures are intricate, like a vast network. If one section collapses, they can simply bypass it through another passage, or even repair it quickly."
Silence fell over the hall. Old Ford frowned. "So you're saying gunpowder is useless?"
Helsen shook his head. "I can only say I can't guarantee its effectiveness. Perhaps we could increase the explosive power by using more gunpowder, but how much would be enough? Too much would only add to the burden of transportation."
His gaze drifted toward the window, as if he could see the distant Rocky Mountains. "But if we're going to study this problem, I suggest we start with some experiments on the outer fringes of the Rockies. There are abandoned caves and old mine tunnels there, similar in structure to dwarf tunnels. We can try different amounts of gunpowder and different detonation methods to see if we can find a truly effective means of destruction. At the very least, we need to understand what we're up against."
Paul nodded lightly. "Then arrange an experiment, but keep it discreet. We can't let the dwarves find out."
His gaze swept across the room, finally settling on Magician Derson. "Derson, you'll be in charge of this gunpowder experiment."
Derson had been sitting quietly in a corner, his expression serene. But at the sound of his name, he jolted violently.
He looked up, a flicker of surprise flashing in his eyes, quickly replaced by a burning excitement.
"Me?" he confirmed in a low voice, his voice tinged with disbelief.
He had only been at the banquet today because Paul needed him to assess the truthfulness of the dwarf emissary's words—especially if their conversation touched on sensitive topics.
But Derson hadn't expected Grayman himself to assign him the task.
"Yes," Paul nodded. "This must be carried out discreetly."
Derson took a deep breath and slowly stood up straight, his back rigid, hands clenched tightly. A near-religious excitement flashed across his face.
"Lord Grayman!" His voice trembled slightly with emotion. "It is my greatest honor that you entrust such a crucial task to me!"
He raised his right hand and slammed it against his chest as if taking an oath. "I swear to you, I will complete it! Absolutely!"
His eyes shone with a long-dormant sense of purpose and belonging. Ever since he had pledged his loyalty to Paul, he had been waiting for an opportunity to prove his worth.
And now it had arrived, though it seemed rather unrelated to his magical expertise.
"Excellent," Paul said. "Begin preparations tomorrow. Choose your personnel, location, and supplies with utmost care. Let no one suspect anything, especially the dwarves in the mountains. I authorize you to use certain... special methods!"
So that's it. For me, these "special means" are just magic! Haha, no wonder he singled me out.
Derson nodded solemnly. "Understood. I will personally go to the outer reaches of the Rocky Mountains tomorrow to select a suitable abandoned mine tunnel for the experiment."
Paul let out a long sigh of relief. "If gunpowder isn't enough, we'll have to resort to something more potent."
At these words, everyone froze. Hansel asked in confusion, "More potent? Stronger gunpowder?"
"Not necessarily gunpowder," Paul said with a mysterious smile. "Perhaps something else entirely."
Derson's eyes flickered slightly. He remained silent, but a strange light shone in his gaze.
Among those present, he was likely the only one who truly understood the Marquis's meaning. He lowered his head, concealing the barely perceptible smile that tugged at his lips.
During that failed memory-extraction magic, he had glimpsed fragments deep within Paul's consciousness—knowledge that didn't belong to this world, fragments of chemistry, explosions, and energy release. Though he hadn't fully grasped them, he knew that things far more terrifying than gunpowder existed.
(End of the Chapter)
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