Translator: CinderTL
Paul folded the military intelligence report, tucked it into a leather scroll case, and handed it to Derson.
"Take this to Mountain Throat Fortress yourself," he said, his voice low and clear. "Bring the first batch of finished explosives and give them to Derrick. Conduct a live demonstration outside the pass controlled by the Stonemason Clan. I want those dwarves to witness firsthand the power that can cleave mountains."
He paused, considering. "Furthermore, I authorize Mountain Throat Fortress to launch further strikes as the situation warrants—provided victory is assured."
Derson accepted the scroll case, his fingers tightening slightly. He had read about the explosives' destructive potential in the report, but witnessing it firsthand and actually transporting them were two entirely different matters.
"However, the primary objective remains forcing their surrender," Paul continued. "We're not aiming for an immediate deep strike. Rotate our weapons—explosives, cannons, muskets—to make them understand the cost of resistance. But don't resort to extermination right away. After all, we still don't fully grasp the true depths of the dwarf race."
Paul's gaze darkened. "Also, find out Sir Helsen's current status. I suspect he's still alive. If he's imprisoned, locate him. If Mountain Throat Fortress can capture any dwarves, we can use them as bargaining chips. After all, the dwarf race is far smaller than our human population. Sir Helsen was the first envoy to attempt negotiations with the dwarves; we can't let him vanish into the mountains like this."
Derson took a deep breath, a surge of excitement coursing through his chest. This wasn't just a routine mission; he was being directly involved in a military operation against the mysterious Dwarf Clan.
He would carry the most powerful weapons of this era into the treacherous terrain of the Rocky Mountains, executing a strategic mission personally devised by Lord Grayman himself.
"Understood," Derson replied, his voice slightly strained with anticipation. "I will not fail the Lord Marquis's trust."
As Derson turned to leave, he paused, turned back, and asked cautiously, "My Lord, may I bring the 'mental team' along?"
Paul raised an eyebrow.
"I've selected a few spellcasters from the refugees," Derson explained. "They have a natural aptitude for mental perception and emotional manipulation. I've been training them to form a specialized intelligence team. If we capture any dwarves during this operation, we might be able to use mental spells to probe their memories. For example, we could learn the tunnel layouts, troop deployments, or even the location where Viscount Solan is being held."
He lowered his voice slightly. "Just like what my teacher tried to do to you back then."
Paul paused for a moment before nodding slowly. "Very well. But remember, don't drive them mad. We want intelligence, not a bunch of grinning stoneheads."
"We'll exercise restraint," Derson assured him, relief washing over his face, a flicker of excitement in his eyes.
He hadn't forgotten his origins. As a spellcaster specializing in mental magic, he had always yearned to apply his talents to practical work.
Paul suddenly asked, "With enough time, could your mental spell completely control a person's mind? Make them obey every command, even forget who they are?"
Derson paused, considering his answer carefully. "Not yet," he replied cautiously, "but if I can continue my research and find deeper mental anchor points... I believe it's highly probable."
Paul grinned broadly and clapped Derson on the shoulder. "Ha! If you actually develop such a spell, I'll have to start calling you 'Mr. Yuri'!"
He laughed heartily, as if recalling something immensely amusing.
Derson froze, a look of confusion spreading across his face. Yuri? He had indeed glimpsed that name in Paul's fragmented memories—blurred, distant, associated with some colossal, ice-cold device capable of manipulating the wills of millions. He had never seen the full picture, only knew it was a being connected to "mental domination," perhaps an ancient sage or a pioneer of some lost technology.
Afraid to press further, he lowered his head and replied, "This subordinate... dares not compare himself to such a being."
Paul laughed even harder, waving his hand dismissively. "Ha ha ha! At least you're much more handsome than him. He's completely bald!"
"Uh... okay," Derson chuckled, joining in the laughter.
As he left the room, the name Yuri lingered in his mind. He grew increasingly convinced that the world from which the Lord Marquis hailed was far deeper and more unfathomable than he had glimpsed.
Half a month later, at Mountain Throat Fortress.
A steel-plated wagon, drawn by four heavy draft horses and escorted by six cavalrymen, slowly entered the fortress through its southern gate.
The wagon's exterior was wrapped in thick burlap, its seams sealed with beeswax. Prominently painted on both sides were red triangular warning symbols—the standardized "high-risk goods" markings mandated by the Military Industry Department of Alden Town's Council of Administration.
Derrick Heller stood at the gate with several officers to greet the convoy. He had previously received Paul's secret orders: a shipment of special military supplies was arriving, escorted by an Intelligence Department official named Derson, who would coordinate with the fortress garrison in military operations against the dwarves.
The carriage came to a halt, and a lean young man in plain gray wool clothing hopped down from the driver's seat, bowing slightly to Derrick. "Colonel Heller, I am Derson Plant, Special Projects Coordinator for the Intelligence Department. By order of the Lord Marquis, I have transported five crates of new explosives, totaling fifty pounds. Here are the transfer documents for your review."
Derrick accepted the documents, verified the seals and serial numbers, and confirmed their authenticity. He glanced at Derson and the several silent, similarly dressed attendants behind him, assuming they were technical bureaucrats from Alden Town. Nodding, he said, "Thank you for your efforts. Settle in first; the wind picks up at night."
That evening, Derson and his four companions were quartered in a building near the armory. The crates of explosives were guarded in shifts by two soldiers, with strict prohibitions against fire. Derson instructed his attendants to rest well, as they had an important mission the next day.
At dawn, Derrick assembled the camp's senior officers on the drill ground. Derson arrived with two assistants, carefully carrying a sealed wooden crate lined with soft padding.
"Gentlemen," Derson began, "today's demonstration features a new explosive personally overseen by the Lord Marquis. It's far more powerful than Black Powder and ideal for mountain warfare."
He personally retrieved a small demonstration charge wrapped in parchment. His assistant inserted it into a drilled hole in a test rock on the eastern side of the drill ground, attached a long fuse, and everyone retreated behind cover.
Boom!
The explosion was far louder than a cannon's roar, yet possessed a deeper, more penetrating force. The ground shuddered violently, and shattered rock rained down like hail. The granite boulder had been blasted into several pieces, its edges charred and molten, leaving a crater half a meter deep.
The drill ground fell into stunned silence.
"This..." An artillery officer's eyes widened. "This isn't gunpowder—it's the Mountain God's hammer!"
Derrick stared at the blackened crater, the gloom finally lifting from his face. For days, the dwarves had been harassing their forces, yet he dared not pursue them into their tunnels, a source of immense frustration.
The Mountain Throat Fortress garrison had once attempted a probing attack into the dwarf tunnels, only to suffer heavy losses.
Now, with this new explosive, not even the deepest tunnels in the Rocky Mountains could serve as a barrier.
He turned to Derson, his tone now tinged with respect. "Mr. Plant, can this... truly collapse the dwarves' mountain strongholds?"
Derson nodded calmly. "Just knowing the entrance is enough. A single crate will suffice."
(End of the Chapter)
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