Upon hearing this, Sir Leiren nodded in understanding. After arranging the time and place for tomorrow's transaction, Gromril and his men left the tavern first.
Having displayed divine favor twice, and with strong proponents, his prestige in Karak-Heorn had reached its peak. Someone could visit him at any moment, so it was not good for his whereabouts to be unknown for too long.
"Cousin, why are you so optimistic about this human who isn't well-off?" Tomi had been thinking about it all the way and finally asked as they neared the inn.
For a merchant, accurately judging people is a very important skill, and he also hoped to learn how to identify potential buyers.
"Hmm, I felt divinity from him. If I'm not mistaken, he is also someone who has received divine favor." Gromril thought for a moment and decided not to fool Cousin Tomi with his knowledge of physiognomy from his previous life, but to tell him honestly.
Upon returning to the inn where they were staying, Gromril indeed found someone waiting for him. The visitor was an Iron Hammer Guard from Lord Arik Luferson, who delivered an invitation to a banquet tomorrow evening.
"What? Is it to celebrate the Mother Goddess bestowing divine favor?" Gromril looked at the invitation with a headache. This meant another round of uninspired speeches and a lot of drinking, neither of which he particularly enjoyed, whether in his past life or now.
But in fact, whether for the immediate growth of his Revival Points or for the long-term revitalization of the Mountains Kingdom, he had no choice but to go. Not only did he have to go, but he also had to fully cooperate and even lead the performance.
"Not entirely, Your Esteemed Chosen of the Goddess!" The Iron Hammer Guard respectfully replied. Gromril was a little surprised to hear this. Had something else worth celebrating happened within this short day?
"Not entirely? What else is on the agenda then?" Gromril asked.
"We're going to send troops to settle grudges!" The Iron Hammer Guard was also a bit confused. In his opinion, didn't the Chosen of the Goddess witness the Wood Elves treating the clansmen of Karak-Heorn as nothing, coming to steal, destroy, and injure people?
"Didn't we only have a dozen unfortunate casualties? Is Lord Arik going to make a big deal out of this?" Gromril asked again. This sudden war would greatly affect his and his protected caravan's next plan.
"Well, you don't know," the Iron Hammer Guard said, taking a mug of beer offered by Balin and sitting down. "Our Lord's style of action is somewhat similar to your father's, His Majesty High King Thorgrim. Since his ascension, he has always said he wants to follow your father's example, settling every grudge, big or small!"
"This, my father isn't exactly..." Gromril stammered.
"His Majesty High King is responsible for settling the grudges of the entire Mountains Kingdom. Lord Arik claims that even if he can't help the High King right now, he must at least settle the grudges of Hornburg himself. Not holding back is the most basic thing!" The Hammerer said proudly, feeling proud of his Lord's ambition.
"That, that is indeed a grand ambition!" Gromril praised. He realized that he needed to adjust his subconscious way of thinking. He was a dwarf; even if the Wood Elf ladies fit his aesthetic from his previous life, he had to put aside his fantasies and prepare for battle.
"Alright, I will attend on time!" After agreeing and seeing the messenger out, Gromril returned to his room to sleep.
The next evening, Gromril received an even higher level of courtesy in the great hall of Karak-Heorn. Compared to the rumors before, witnessing divine favor twice in a row was undoubtedly more shocking.
Although dwarf nobles kept coming to toast him, Gromril struggled to squeeze his way to Lord Arik.
"Your Majesty, please listen to me!" Gromril whispered.
"What is it? Did the Mother Goddess have any revelation about my act of vengeance?" Lord Arik took Gromril's opinion very seriously.
"I heard you plan to send troops into the Athel Loren Forest to settle grudges, but I wonder if you could postpone the departure date for a few days?" Gromril had been thinking all along about how to speak, and in the end, he decided not to prevent Arik's act of vengeance.
"Why, Your Esteemed Chosen of the Goddess? Grimnir, the Revered God, teaches us that grudges that can be settled today should not be put off until tomorrow!" Lord Arik was a little puzzled.
"It's like this: the caravan I'm protecting still needs to pass through Wintertooth Pass all the way to the end of the Grey Mountains. If you start a war now, as long as those Pointy-ears in the forest aren't fools, my party will most likely be intercepted!"
Gromril analyzed, in his opinion, the Wood Elves had a large air force, and through the thick roots of the World Roots, the ancient oak, they could travel underground, which would also interfere with the Dwarves' proud geomantic network.
If facing a three-dimensional attack from the sky, underground, and ground, Gromril did not believe that his small force could smoothly reach the caravan's next stop, Karak Norn, also known as Barren Fort.
"Mother Goddess above! I actually forgot what brought you here!" Lord Arik slapped his forehead.
"Fortunately, you reminded me. If the caravan can't arrive smoothly, our kin in the Grey Mountains might even add a grudge against me in the book of grudges!" Lord Arik said.
"Yes, settling grudges is indeed a good thing, but if the act of settling might lead to more grudge entries, it's best to think twice." Gromril still advised.
"Then let the Pointy-ears' heads stay on their necks for a few more days! Anyway, the colder the weather, the less help they'll get from those damned tree-stumps!" Lord Arik shouted, pounding the table.
Every winter solstice, Orion, the God-King of the Wood Elves, willingly lay on a pyre, entering his annual cycle of reincarnation. Only on the eve of the spring equinox would a young prince voluntarily become the next "Orion." And the Dryads, Treemen, and other forest spirits would also fall silent.
Seeing his clearly unheeding reaction, Gromril shook his head inwardly. This newly ascended King was eager to establish his authority through a significant victory. Gromril had learned yesterday that all the grudges he had settled before were merely trivial matters.
Merchants are always most sensitive to risk; as soon as they smelled war, they eagerly prepared to depart.
This was exactly what Gromril wanted. He didn't wait for human merchants from various places to fully assemble before urging the caravan to set off. After leaving Hornburg, the caravan's personnel underwent a change, but overall, their strength didn't change much; the proportion of humans increased slightly, and many merchants heading to Bretonnia also hitched a ride with the caravan.
This time, to counter potential long-range attacks, Gromril decided not to ride a rock ram. He walked among the Anvil Guard, ensuring he would be protected in time even if an arrow rain suddenly appeared.
It was already late October, and the temperature in the Mountains was much lower than below. Gromril looked at the vast expanse of wind and snow and nodded to himself. While such natural conditions would increase the difficulty of travel, they would also make it hard for air forces to operate.
Gromril tightened the cloak on his back against the wind and snow. He wasn't wearing iron armor; after all, wearing armor in cold weather would only intensify the chill.
Looking at the resolute faces of the Anvil Guard around him, Gromril nodded inwardly, but he still wanted to upgrade their transportation methods in the future.
Gromril and the caravan spent an entire day crossing the pass and re-entered the Underway network.
Karak Norn was still two days' journey away, and Gromril decided to maintain high vigilance for these two days.
The Grey Mountains are adjacent to the Athel Loren Forest, and this section of the road is where the roots of the World Tree are most abundant. If the Wood Elves wished, they could attack Gromril's caravan at any time.
That night, Gromril arranged dozens of outposts. The human adventurers were also mobilized, and every member of the caravan maintained high alertness, resting with their armor on and axes in hand.
When they set off again the next day, after only two hours of travel, the scouting rangers returned. They also brought back a ranger from Barren Fort.
"On behalf of the Lord of Karak Norn, Borok Iron-Hoe, and Queen Therma, I greet you! Respected Chosen of the Goddess!" The ranger cupped his hands and spoke.
"Karak-Heorn sent word earlier, and we learned about Lord Arik's revenge plan. We also roughly estimated your caravan's itinerary. To prevent those green things from causing you trouble, King Borok has brought his army to meet you. They are still two or three hours away."
Upon hearing the ranger's words, Gromril and his party were overjoyed. With the support of the local dwarves, they no longer had to worry about the rest of their journey.
"Should we wait here, or continue towards Karak Norn?" Gromril asked the ranger.
"Keep going, I've had no problems on my way here!"
Gromril urged the caravan forward as instructed, and after less than an hour, he heard the sound of iron boots striking the ground ahead.
"Respected Chosen of the Goddess! Welcome to the Grey Mountains. My people and I have long admired your name!" Gromril heard a booming voice from afar.
Gromril also responded loudly, "Is that Borok, Lord of Barren Fort? I send my father's sincerest wishes!" As they spoke, the two parties rapidly approached each other.
Lord Borok was not as burly as typical dwarves; instead, he appeared somewhat dark and lean. This Lord nimbly jumped down from his shield-bearer combat platform like a rock ram in the Mountains.
"With your arrival, the Ancestor Goddess's grace will also reach Barren Fort!" Lord Borok said enthusiastically.
Gromril did not know this Lord well, but he still enthusiastically recounted his observations along the way.
At lunchtime, the two parties sat down to rest together.
"It's still a full day's journey from my place, don't blame me for making a fuss, I swear by the Ancestors that I don't distrust you and the warhammer in your hand!"
Many honor-bound dwarves are unwilling to be helped by others while on their missions, as this is considered a sign of disrespect. It was precisely to avoid Gromril's misunderstanding that Lord Borok explained.
"To be honest, the territory of Barren Fort hasn't been peaceful lately!" Lord Borok said, taking a sip of hot soup.
"Mushrooms, a specialty of the Grey Mountains. They're excellent for warming the body!" He recommended them before returning to the main topic.
"Aside from the Pointy-ears causing trouble these past two days, Goblins have started appearing in the Underway network again!"
"Grungni above!" Gromril exclaimed in surprise.
"What's going on? Didn't Gulu's foolish Waaagh just pass? How are there more greenskins so quickly?"
"Only their two savage gods would know, I suppose! May they twist each other's heads off in their infighting." Lord Borok cursed.
Gromril's heart, which had just settled, now leaped into his throat again. Greenskins, like Wood Elves, could use underground passages to ambush his caravan while it was underground. Moreover, compared to the Wood Elves, the hatred between dwarves and greenskins was undoubtedly stronger.
After a short rest, the party advanced again. Borok and Gromril led the way at the front of the column, evenly distributing their forces on both sides of the caravan to guard against potential ambushes at any moment.
Fortunately, the greenskins had no unwarranted designs on such a large caravan of over a thousand people. After repeatedly eliminating several scattered groups of Goblins, Gromril wiped the sweat from his brow and spoke, looking at a pile of pulverized pink squishy masses on the ground.
"Respected Lord, are Cave Squigs always so numerous in the territory of Karak Norn?"
Cave Squigs live at the bottom of the Mountains. They are incredible creatures with spherical bodies that are half-fungus, half-flesh, alert eyes, gaping maws, and dagger-like, overlapping teeth.
In addition to wild ones, Goblins also tame them. Their hides are very useful, and their meat is delicious. Some squigs are captured and bred as guards or pets for warlords' amusement.
When necessary, squigs are driven onto the battlefield and wreak havoc. They become even more frenzied when injured or stimulated by noise, eager to scatter and bite all creatures in their path, including their own kind.
"Mountains above!" Lord Borok gasped, taking two breaths. Dealing with these fearless, mad monsters required caution, even for experienced warriors.
"There shouldn't be so many. Based on our experience, compared to their filthy surface-dwelling relatives, those sneaky Night Goblins are better at taming these things!" Lord Borok said.
"It's possible a new greenskin Warboss has emerged in the tunnels nearby, and it looks like it might be a Night Goblin!" He analyzed based on his experience.
"Then, is there anything I can help with?" Gromril asked. If possible, he wouldn't mind using a victorious battle to gain both skill points and revival points.
"Just relax. The Grey Mountains are much longer than the Black Mountains we just passed. Your job is to safely deliver the supplies to our kin further on. As for these greenskins? In thousands of years, we in Barren Fort have dealt with enough to fill the entire Athel Loren Forest!" Lord Borok said proudly.
Gromril found it inconvenient to say more upon hearing this. Defending one's territory was a lord's responsibility, just as protecting the convoy was Gromril's responsibility.
If he offered help without permission, it would be counterproductive if it was perceived as a lack of trust in Lord Borok's strength, especially since Gromril now represented his father, High King Thorgrim.
The convoy continued its journey and finally reached Barren Fort at noon the next day. Seeing the prosperity of this fortress, Gromril realized that it must have been named after its desolate state when it was first established, not its current splendor.
Seeing Gromril's astonished expression, Lord Borok smiled and lit his pipe. "Hahaha, you needn't be surprised, esteemed Chosen of the Goddess. Many long-lived elders have also been misled by the name Karak Norn!"
He spoke with an almost uncontrollable pride. "The Grey Mountains region is the most barren area among all the Mountains belonging to our Dwarf race. The already limited metal and gem deposits are even harder to excavate due to the unstable bedrock of the Mountains."
"Poof!" Lord Borok exhaled a puff of smoke.
"The ancestors who first settled in the Grey Mountains were mostly attracted by rumors of endless wealth. These ancestors, with the characteristic stubbornness of our Sons of the Mountains, hoped to discover large mineral veins. After a thousand years of effort, they finally found some metal and precious metal deposits and built strongholds upon them."
"Like your Barren Fort and Karak-Zfirin, where I am going?" Gromril interjected.
"Yes, yes!" Lord Borok seemed very pleased with Gromril's reply.
"My Karak Norn is one of the largest strongholds in the Grey Mountains, though, of course, it's not quite comparable to Karaz-A-Karak," Lord Borok said modestly.
"That's not necessarily true. Besides our clansmen, you also have human friends under your rule. Speaking of which, have you been to Everpeak?" Gromril chimed in.
"Hahaha!" Borok laughed, "According to the rules set by our ancestors, every fifty years, the lords of all sufficiently sized Mountain Strongholds, clans, and guilds must go to Everpeak to pay homage to the High King and attend the Grudge Gathering."
"Oh, oh!" Gromril shook his head. He had been busy thinking about Morse code lately, and his mind was a bit muddled, causing him to momentarily forget this grand event, one of his deepest childhood memories.
Every fifty years, all the prominent Dwarves from across the Old World would gather in the grand throne room of Everpeak. They would bring their respective book of grudges and report to the High King on the increase or decrease of grudge entries over the past fifty years.
The High King would then select entries, based on the severity of the grudges, that were worthy of being recorded in the entire Mountain Kingdom's great book of grudges. This was also an opportunity to form a joint army to settle the most painful grudges.
Thinking of this, Gromril calculated and found that the next Grudge Gathering was only a few years away.
"Although some leaders may be too busy with various affairs to attend and send envoys instead, traditionally, a newly ascended leader should attend their first Grudge Gathering in person to show respect to the High King!" Lord Borok said, which also answered the question Gromril had thought of but not asked.
"I learned a lot on that trip! You'll see my gains later! Come on, don't let my wife wait too long!" Lord Borok called out.
The convoy filed into the stronghold through Barren Fort's side gate facing underground. Gromril dismissed the group, letting his clansmen attend to their own business. He needed to rest in his room; this journey without riding a goat had exhausted him.
After his afternoon nap, an invitation to the evening welcome banquet had already been delivered to Gromril's table. Soon, Balin walked in, carrying a cup of brewed coffee.
"Cousin, this dinner is different from usual, I must warn you!" He set down the coffee and spoke.
"Queen Therma of Barren Fort, Lord Borok's wife, might cause you some trouble tonight! But that's just a maybe."
"How so?" Gromril asked curiously. His reputation had not only spread throughout the dwarf Mountains but had also reached closely related humans, so it was somewhat unexpected that a clansmen would want to cause him trouble.
"It's like this, Queen Therma hails from Karak Izor, also known as Copper Mountain Hold. She is the eldest daughter of Lagos, the wealthy Lord of Copper Mountain Hold," Balin continued.
"And then?" Gromril still didn't quite understand; he knew little about that dwarf stronghold south of Hornburg.
"Uh…" Gromril's lack of political knowledge left Balin a bit speechless. Generally, these advisors should not get involved in the rivalries of dwarf lords,
After all, given the frequent intermarriages among the dwarf elite, even two lords who were estranged and kept grudges against each other would inevitably be considered distant relatives. If, one day, under mediation, the two families reconciled, the advisor who stirred up trouble in between would be in trouble.
"For nearly a thousand years, Copper Mountain Hold's relationship with our Everpeak has not been good. Every Lord of Copper Mountain Hold has attempted to run for High King, though of course, they all took that ambition with them into the halls of their ancestors."
Seeing Gromril still looking confused, Balin had no choice but to continue.
"There are two main reasons. First, Copper Mountain Hold's strength has grown steadily over these years of development. You know, Karak Izor is located in the Vaults Mountains to the south. The city gets its name from the large deposits of brass and other minerals found beneath the mountain glaciers."
"Brass? I know that, but we don't have a great demand for it," Gromril interjected.
"It's mainly the natural conditions!" Balin didn't mind Gromril's interruption.
"The Vaults Mountains are a frozen canyon region between the Grey Mountains and the Black Mountains, composed of glaciers and treacherous peaks. The pervasive canyons and cliffs ensure that no monsters can easily disturb the clansmen living on this plateau. Therefore, the clansmen in the Copper Mountain region have been rarely disturbed by external enemies, allowing them to slowly expand into the surrounding canyons and peaks.
The large deposits of brass, iron, tin, and other minerals there ensured that it became the largest and deepest mining base outside the World's Edge Mountains. One particularly bold ancestor in its history even carved a sturdy ice city into the glacial cliffs."
"An ice city?" Gromril exclaimed in admiration.
"Compared to our World's Edge Mountains, which are constantly invaded by greenskins, skaven, and even monster tribes, the environment of Copper Mountain Hold is much more peaceful, thus attracting many clans from the east whose original Mountain Strongholds had fallen."
"The addition of these clans brought more population, further accelerating the development of Copper Mountain Hold, am I right?" Gromril seemed to have understood.
"Yes, exactly, and this also led to the second reason for the discord between Copper Mountain Hold and us, Everpeak," Balin said, catching his breath before continuing.
"Hmm, ancestors above!" Balin found it hard to speak, so he used this to buy himself some time.
"It's alright, just speak freely. I won't mind these small matters. As descendants, we should indeed face the merits and demerits of our ancestors!" Gromril encouraged.
"These clansmen, who lost their homes, established small kingdoms in the valleys of the Vaults Mountains, independent of Copper Mountain. These 'Valley Kingdoms' became their isolated sanctuaries. Here, the clansmen could rebuild their homes and reorganize their forces to prepare for reclaiming their homeland."
Balin chose to describe the current situation of the displaced dwarf clansmen to buy himself more time to organize his thoughts.
"Isn't that good?" Gromril still hadn't caught the hidden meaning in Balin's words, which forced his advisor to continue.
"But these clansmen still hoped to reclaim their homeland. After experiencing regrettable failed attempts, they attributed some of the reasons to the High King's inaction…"
"I was wondering why the caravans didn't go to the Vaults Mountains! So this is the reason. Do these clansmen think the High King should be obligated to help them reclaim their Mountain Strongholds?" Gromril was somewhat shocked.
"Valaya above! Some clansmen, oppressed by hatred, inevitably become a bit extreme." Balin's tone suddenly became a bit low.
Gromril felt a strange pang. In his memory, his young cousin had always been the relatively cheerful one in the group. Balin was the youngest and didn't have too much external pressure. As Gromril's status rose, he, too, was full of hope for the future.
But this didn't change the fact that his cousin Balin was also one of the homeless, a compatriot living under others' roofs. When talking about the clansmen of Copper Mountain Hold, he couldn't help but feel a kinship.
"Alright, I understand. I'll be careful tonight, but from what I see, Queen Therma might not necessarily take any action." Gromril nodded, ending the conversation. He tidied up, preparing to attend the banquet.
Upon entering the Lord's Hall of Barren Fort, Gromril suddenly felt something different. The decor here seemed very new, unlike the rich historical ambiance of all the previous fortresses.
"Karak Norn's history should be comparable to Hornburg's, both fortresses established after the War of the Beard!" Gromril thought to himself.
"No, it might even be older than Hornburg, after all, the original purpose of establishing Barren Fort was to monitor the Wood Elves in Athel Loren Forest."
Greeting clansmen along the way, Gromril arrived at the dais. He was seated at the lower left of the main seat, the position for the most honored guest, which Gromril, with his current status and prestige, fully deserved.
Suddenly, Gromril saw two chairs at the main seat. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he hadn't woken up properly and was seeing things. But after steadying himself, Gromril found that there were indeed two chairs at the main seat!
"How can this be? This is too rare!" Gromril muttered to himself. He had never seen such a situation in any dwarf fortress before!
"Hey, Master Gromril, you don't know? Our Lord Borok has shamed his ancestors! A man who leans on a rich wife, as useless as a Grot!"
Gromril turned his head at the sound. The speaker was the old dwarf sitting next to him, the Rune Master of Barren Fort, nicknamed the Earthshaker. He was renowned throughout the dwarf Mountains for his skill in wielding the power of Master-level Rune of Fury and Destruction.
This white-bearded old dwarf didn't even wait for the hosts of the banquet to be seated before he started attacking the steak on his plate with his knife and fork, chewing beef and cursing as he did so.
"Esteemed Master, what, what do you mean?" Gromril was stunned for a moment before asking.
"You're from Everpeak, so it's normal that you don't know the inside story!" Master Earthshaker took another sip of beer. He clearly regarded Gromril, his young colleague, as one of his own.
"That Borok kid, he should call me great-uncle! What a disgrace, truly a disgrace! When I talk about him, I don't know where to put this beard of mine!" The old dwarf drained his beer, wiping his beard and tapping his mug on the edge of the table.
"Back then, Lagos of Karak Izor was looking for a son-in-law. That fellow, whose eyes were only on gold, really hyped things up, probably hoping to earn more bride price!"
Gromril nodded. He understood what Master Earthshaker was talking about. Sometimes, the father of a woman to be married would choose to marry his daughter to the wealthiest suitor through semi-public or even public bidding.
"Many prominent young dwarf men went at the time. It is said that the carts of treasures they brought reflected the glaciers of the Vaults Mountains in dazzling colors!" The old dwarf continued, and Gromril imagined the magnificent display of competition in his mind based on the description.
"Borok went too, but that disgraceful fellow! He couldn't compete with others in wealth, so he actually thought of competing by offering privileges, and in the end, he won the favor of that vixen Queen Therma!" The old dwarf, being old and of high status, completely disregarded Lord Borok and his wife.
"What, what privileges? Adding a chair next to the throne?" Gromril's gaze shifted. He judged by the time that the banquet was about to begin.
"What privileges? More than this whole beard of mine! In thousands of years, have you ever seen someone marry without paying a bride price and even earning a dowry? Don't even mention it, now the dwarves of Barren Fort can't hold their heads high in the entire Mountain Kingdom!"
Just then, Lord Borok and his wife entered together from the back door of the hall. Hearing Master Earthshaker's last few words, Lord Borok's face only showed a faint, sheepish smile.
But facing this skilled and high-ranking elder, he did not retort.
Looking at the Lord's dark, thin face, which showed almost no expression, Gromril secretly nodded. From his brief interactions along the way, this dwarf seemed to be a very reliable person.
Ignoring Master Earthshaker's grumbling, Lord Borok and his wife sat together at the main seat. Queen Therma first stood up to welcome the attending merchant representatives, and then Lord Borok individually offered a welcome speech to Gromril.
Thanks to Balin's reminder, Gromril did not show off much at the banquet, mostly keeping his head down, eating and drinking, except for unavoidable social obligations.
Queen Therma was not so unreasonable either. Although her expression was rather cold, she at least did not make any difficulties.
At the end of the banquet, Lord Borok proactively asked Gromril to tour the interior of the fortress tomorrow, after which the guests dispersed.
Early the next morning, Gromril arrived at the foot of the Barren Fort's city walls as agreed. Unlike typical dwarf strongholds, Karak Norn's design was quite peculiar.
Its main gates were located on the east and west sides. The eastern gate was the direction Gromril and his convoy had entered from, connecting to Wintertooth Pass. The western gate connected to the Underway network leading to Undermountain Hold, which would be Gromril's next stop.
A small gate on the north side led to the human settlement down the mountain. Human merchants conducting daily trade, such as selling agricultural products and buying ironware and handicrafts, would use this gate.
The city walls and gates on these three sides were unremarkable. The most symbolic part of Barren Fort was its tall western wall, which faced the Athel Loren Forest and was equipped with countless defensive structures. This was precisely the area Lord Borrok intended to show Gromril.
Gromril surveyed the wall before him. It was directly part of the Grey Mountains' body, and the dwarves had carved out countless firing slits and secret doors within it, only accessible from the inside.
"Esteemed Chosen of the Goddess, this way!" Lord Borrok called out, accompanied by several of his Iron Hammer Guards.
The two men made a gesture of invitation and walked side-by-side up a narrow staircase. The stairs were unusually low. Gromril, being slightly taller than most of his clansmen, had to duck his head to avoid his hair getting disheveled by the rock ceiling.
"What, what is this about?" Gromril asked, shielding his forehead with his hand. dwarf buildings were usually extremely tall, so such low and narrow ones were quite rare.
"Hahaha!" Lord Borrok also bent slightly. "Think about it, even we Sons of the Mountains have to duck. If those Pointy-ears from the forest rush in to die, they'd have to be careful not to hit their heads while bending over. How could they fight us? Their spears couldn't be wielded properly, let alone drawing a bow and shooting arrows!" He was very proud of this targeted design.
The two arrived at the top of the city wall, and Gromril felt a sense of sudden openness after emerging from the oppressive environment.
Gromril found himself before an endless sea of trees, literally, an ocean of trees. Although it was late autumn, and the forest no longer held the grandeur of midsummer, it still astonished Gromril, who had lived in a concrete jungle in his previous life.
"Athel Loren Forest, in the Pointy-ears' language, it means 'Genesis Dawn Tree Sea,'" Lord Borrok's voice echoed softly as Gromril gazed into the distance.
"For thousands of years, this forest has been uniquely blessed by the Winds of Magic. Every plant and tree in the forest thrives under this energy. Even now, Athel Loren can generate magical energy on its own, without relying on the Winds of Magic."
"Is that the Oak of Ages?" Gromril asked, pointing to a tall tree in the forest that seemed to pierce the heavens.
"Yes, legend says that tree has its own consciousness, and its lifespan is as old as this forest. The Pointy-ears treat it as their sacred object, but if you ask me, cutting it down would provide enough furniture for the entire Kingdom of the Mountains!" Lord Borrok explained.
"The two demigods of the Wood Elves, Orion and Ariel, both reside beneath that tree."
"Orion, the mortal incarnation of Kurnous, the God of the Hunt?" Gromril thought of the giant man from the game with antlers on his head and a bare torso. "His Wild Hunt hasn't caused little trouble for our Mountain Strongholds, has it?"
"Ahem, my ancestors and I have fought him for thousands of years! A few years ago, I even met that fellow face-to-face. He and his wild cavalry are unaffected by the forest, and their charge through the woodlands is even stronger than that of our human friends from Bretonnia!" Lord Borrok said, leaning on the battlements.
"I see this wall is managed impregnably by you, so it must not have much impact!" Gromril said, observing the numerous ballistas and cannons placed on the wall. The number of artillery pieces displayed by Barren Fort was the most he had seen on his journey so far.
"Hahaha, indeed, especially last time, the treasures I bought from Zhufbar taught those stubborn, arrogant fellows a harsh lesson!" With that, Lord Borrok led Gromril into a concealed gun emplacement.
"Flame Cannon?" Gromril blurted out, looking at the familiar object before him. "You actually have this! As far as I know, we in Karaz-A-Karak haven't even deployed them yet!"
"Hahaha, last time, I signed some agreements with King Selunding of Zhufbar and the then-President of the Engineers Guild at the Grudge Gathering." Lord Borrok seemed very pleased with Gromril's shocked expression.
"This thing, it's not cheap, is it?" Gromril asked tentatively.
"Indeed, to be honest, I was only able to acquire it with the support of my wife's family. Even with good relations, they couldn't give me too much of a discount." Lord Borrok answered Gromril's question.
Gromril secretly observed the thin, dark-skinned dwarf before him. He wasn't sure how to respond to the lord who had openly mentioned receiving help from his wife.
"Last night..." Gromril gritted his teeth, forcibly breaking the silence.
"Uncle Earth-shaker said a lot of unpleasant things about me and my wife?" Lord Borrok's tone revealed a sense of not being surprised.
"I had no choice! On one hand, with the strength of Barren Fort and my family's financial resources at the time, it was indeed difficult for me to marry a wife of equal standing."
"Yes, besides the Skaven and Greenskins in the Underway network, we in Karak Norn also suffer from raids by the Wood Elves, and the underground mineral resources are not that abundant!" Gromril echoed, knowing the difficulties the clansmen here faced.
"Mother Goddess above! It's so good that you understand me. If there's an opportunity, please explain a thing or two to the Mother Goddess on my behalf during your prayers!" Lord Borrok invoked a divine name, clearly under great pressure because of this.
"On the other hand, in my opinion, the core mission of a lord is to seek welfare for his people. If it can help the lives of my compatriots, I am willing to bear some criticism!" In the dim gun emplacement, a faint light appeared on his dark face.
"I see. Achieving some deeper agreements with Copper Mountain Hold must be a great boost to your development here!" Gromril nodded. This explained his earlier strange feeling.
"Do you really have no opinion on my unconventional behavior?" Lord Borrok asked curiously, hearing Gromril's calm tone.
"In my view, the rules of our ancestors should be used to protect the kingdom they founded. But if adhering to tradition leads to our Mountain Strongholds falling one after another, then why not make some changes?"
Gromril judged from the large number of new firearms in Barren Fort and Borrok's words and actions that he was an enlightened lord intent on reform. With no one else around, he spoke these words.
"A hundred years from now, if there's an opportunity, you will have the support of Barren Fort!"
"After a hundred years, if there's a chance, I'll get the support of Barren Fort?" Gromril repeated, confused.
"What does that mean?" he asked.
"The King's Election, of course. Personally, and the elders of our Karak Norn, all believe that the Mountains Kingdom now needs a High King who is committed to reform, at least one who will continue His Majesty Thorgrim's style," Brokk replied.
"Your elder brother, Grom, well, as it stands, he's a good lad who respects tradition," he said, trailing off.
"Ahem!" Although no one else was present, Gromril still found such direct remarks a bit hard to accept. He was very grateful for his elder brother's consistent help and care.
"Thank you for your support. If there really is a chance, I will do my best to make our Mountains better. This is also the oath I made before the Ancestor Goddess!"
Gromril thought for a moment before speaking. Becoming the High King and gaining the power to lead the entire Dwarf race was crucial for him to change the predetermined End Times. At this point, brotherly affection could only take a back seat.
"Wouldn't your father-in-law, the wealthy Lord Lagos, have an opinion on you doing this?" Gromril asked, concerned.
"By the Ancestor Gods, compared to your Drazklad Clan, their Grimgaz clan lacks both heritage and prestige to compare!
Your biggest threat, as per custom, would be the Slayer King of Karak Kadrin, but by then, it's likely his son, Prince Kragrim, would be running."
"Prince Kragrim?" Gromril thought of the owner of the pair of chain axes mentioned by Master Broken Anvil.
"Hmm, he is Agrimm's eldest son, and I hear he is also a brave warrior. However, currently, the merits he has achieved are not enough to threaten you, as the Ancestor Goddess's chosen!" Lord Brokk analyzed.
"Why would that be? Can't the Slayer King himself run?" Gromril asked, a little puzzled.
"Well, that's an unwritten rule, I suppose. Generally, it's best for candidates not to be of the same generation as the current High King. Otherwise, they might be old and frail, and if the change is too quick, with the leader gone and policies abandoned, the development of the Mountains would face additional complications," Lord Brokk, knowing Gromril hadn't started considering this matter yet, provided a more in-depth explanation.
"We've just met for the first time, why do you have so much confidence in me?" Gromril couldn't help but ask.
"Hahaha, it's simple, young man!" Lord Brokk said, patting Gromril's shoulder. "There are only a handful of truly qualified competitors. For example, the Angrund Clan runs every election, but would any clansmen really choose a king without a Mountain Stronghold?"
"So, the dozen or so clansmen who competed with my father back then?" Gromril's sentence was cut short.
"If it were a normal election, half of them wouldn't have a single chance of winning!" Lord Brokk said with conviction, taking another puff from his pipe. Gromril secretly worried he might accidentally ignite the Flame Cannon.
"Therefore, the people I can observe and bet on are very limited. Lord Selunding and Guild Master Brokk speak highly of you. In their letters, they both said you were open to reform, didn't they?" Lord Brokk stared at Gromril.
At this moment, Gromril realized that this dwarf lord, who had been publicly insulted by his clan elders and misunderstood by many clansmen, was by no means an ordinary person; his foresight was quite remarkable.
"In my opinion, whether it's new technology or old traditions, as long as it can strengthen our Dwarf race and help us revitalize the Mountains Kingdom, it's a good thing worth learning!" This was the third time Gromril had said this, but each time it achieved the desired effect.
Lord Brokk was silent for a moment, pondering Gromril's words. Finally, he nodded and walked out of the hidden underground gun emplacement with Gromril.
Upon emerging, Gromril saw that several of his Eternal Hammer Guards had been led dozens of meters away by Lord Brokk's personal guards, drinking and chatting.
This method of ensuring the privacy of their conversation made Gromril nod repeatedly in his heart. The Dwarf race had loud voices and fiery tempers, so thinking of confidentiality was already quite impressive.
The two then continued to tour the other targeted defensive facilities on the Barren Fort walls, and Gromril constantly praised the war wisdom of the clansmen.
In Gromril's initial understanding, dwarves were a very slow-developing race, but now he realized this was in comparison to races like the Skaven and humans, who had maxed out their development points. Compared to the arrogant Pointy-ears, dwarves could even be said to be embracing technology.
Over thousands of years, the ancestors of Barren Fort had thoroughly studied the Wood Elves' attack methods; everything these green ladies could do was effectively countered.
Do they like to invade with an air force composed of Forest Dragons, Great Eagles, and common falcons? Dense ballistas and repeating crossbows would turn them into pin cushions in an instant.
Do they like to quickly harass with cavalry, taking advantage of the dwarves' lack of speed? Large numbers of chevaux de frise, traps, and tunnels would restrict not only ordinary Elf warhorses and deer but even Great Stag cavalry.
Do they have fast-firing, high-accuracy ranged units? The ancestors built multi-layered, three-dimensional cover, and their brethren were all clad in heavy armor.
Flame Cannons, Iron Drake Handcannons, and even incendiary bombs with dwarf ale as their core made it difficult for Tree-men, Dryads, and Tree Kin, who feared fire, to advance.
As for lords leading elite infantry in surprise attacks, not to mention whether the scantily clad Wood Elves could withstand the equally fierce dwarf ranged firepower, even if they did charge onto the walls, they would be restricted by the low, narrow passages to the point of almost only being able to surrender and die.
Gromril returned to his room after half a day of touring; he needed some time to digest what he had seen and heard today.
The experience accumulated by the Ancestors over thousands of years was not something he could easily surpass with his amateur knowledge from his previous life. It was more important to quickly refine the telegraph rules he was working on.
The convoy would also stay in Barren Fort for nearly a week. This was because nearby human merchants had channels for trading with certain Wood Elves. Although no dwarf would admit it, Elf goods were as popular in this world as dwarf goods.
The Athel Loren Forest also produced many rare medicinal herbs and plant materials imbued with Winds of Magic, all of which were high-end products worth selling throughout the Old World.
Although he had received Lord Brokk's promise, Gromril was not planning too many actions for now. Besides visiting the local Rune Smith Guild to consult Master Earthshaker about using the Rune of Fury and Destruction, he had kept a low profile.
On the fifth night, Gromril was suddenly startled by a commotion.
"What's going on outside?" he asked Balin, who was standing by the door of his room.
"I'll go see!" the young advisor replied.
"Rogov the Manticore Butcher and Knight Fatis have returned, and they have something to report to you!" Balin quickly returned.
"Please invite the warriors in!" Gromril called out, and soon two men, one tall and one short, entered.
They had clearly been through several battles.
Knight Fatis's plate armor had several new scratches, and Rogov, who had no armor protection, had acquired a few fresh wounds.
"By the Ancestor Goddess, Master Gromril, I'm afraid we're in trouble!" the Butcher said in a hoarse voice.
"To be precise, your caravan is probably in trouble.
Large numbers of Night Goblins have appeared in the geomantic network leading to Karak-Azgaraz.
My men and I, along with the adventurers led by Knight Fatis, cleared some of them, and several companions have already found their death!" the Butcher said.
"May the Ancestor Goddess protect them!" Gromril invoked a divine name.
He knew that Bretonnian Questing Knights and dwarf Slayers often cooperated; they both had their own great missions, seeking to fight the strongest and most deadly enemies, and never retreating or fleeing.
The Slayer's oath would not allow a dwarf Slayer to give up beer, and Questing Knights also retained their need for alcohol, so when conditions permitted, the two would travel together, and Questing Knights could also undertake the task of pursuing fleeing monsters.
The Slayer sought an honorable death, and slaying giant beasts was a means to an end, not the end itself.
Conversely, Questing Knights sought the Holy Grail, hoping to attract the Lady of the Lake's attention by slaying giant beasts in Her name, and the two were not in conflict.
"Night Goblins?" An image involuntarily appeared in Gromril's mind: a figure wearing a hooded cloak, holding a gleaming halberd, standing arrogantly on the dwarf throne in the upper levels of Karak-Eight-Peaks, shouting.
"Legend has it that when the filthy green mushrooms first appeared, a group of Goblins were born in the caves of the World's Edge Mountains.
After hundreds or thousands of years of environmental influence, they underwent significant changes compared to their brethren.
This subspecies was named Night Goblins by our Ancestors."
Rogov assumed Gromril didn't understand this race, so he decided to introduce them to the young man to prevent him from suffering losses in the future.
"Night Goblins are all very short, which is consistent with their subterranean lifestyle.
These inherently wicked fellows generally move through tunnels, whether dug by themselves or built by us Sons of the Mountains.
They wear dark cloaks and hoods, making it easy to hide in the dim underground, and once they discover travelers or merchants in the mountains, they will emerge from their caves to launch deadly surprise attacks." Rogov took the beer Balin handed him and moistened his throat.
"Due to their inherent fear of light, Night Goblins only move at night or on cloudy days without sun.
They mainly stay underground, so our conflicts with them are even more frequent than with their disgusting green kin!"
Listening to the Manticore Butcher's words, the surrounding dwarves nodded repeatedly; almost all dwarf families held grudges against Night Goblins.
"The tunnels dug by Night Goblins are different from ours; they are crude and unusually damp!
This makes it convenient for those bastards to place molds and train various highly poisonous mushrooms.
Besides being used as food and fuel, these poisonous mushrooms can also be used by Night Goblins to attract and tame squigs."
After describing the external characteristics of Night Goblins, Rogov began to talk about their habits.
Noticing the somewhat strange looks from his clansmen, Gromril suddenly realized why this warrior, usually silent and burdened by deep-seated hatred, was so talkative today.
"Could it be that the rumor about me liking hallucinogenic mushrooms has spread?" Gromril had a headache.
He recalled that day when the Hornburg high-ranking officials came to offer tribute to the Mother Goddess, someone had tucked a few dried mushrooms under the oath-money pouch…
"Even compared to their green counterparts, Night Goblins are still very timid.
If I had to say, they're even worse than rats!" Rogov finished speaking and went to treat his wounds; after all, bleeding to death could hardly be called honorable.
Knight Fatis took over the conversation.
"Respected Chosen of the Goddess, I must warn you that when Night Goblins fall into extreme frenzy, they not only overcome their timid nature but also display a terrifying and perplexing combat strength." Knight Fatis continued.
"In the Imperium of Man, there is an adventurer known as the Goblin Slayer.
He believes that Night Goblins usually become more excited than ordinary Goblins when daylight fades and night falls."
Knight Fatis's words caught Gromril's attention.
"Goblin Slayer? What do you mean? Is he very good at fighting these dirty and cunning things?" Gromril asked.
The dwarves spent heavily to form Ironbreaker units to counter threats from underground, but if there was a more efficient or cheaper solution, Gromril would be happy to learn a thing or two.
"I've only heard rumors, you know, we Bretonnians generally believe that the great Lady of the Lake would not cast Her gaze into gloomy tunnels and damp sewers.
Goblins, no matter how large or numerous, cannot compare to Giants and Minotaurs."
Gromril knew this; the Questing Knights' pursuit of large opponents was almost obsessive.
Their path was a bane to Giants, though of course, if their strength was insufficient, it would just be a Giant's extra meal.
A widely circulated knight's tale in the Old World tells of a Questing Knight named Don Quixote who, after searching in vain for Giants, became so agitated that he challenged a windmill, mistaking it for a giant beast.
"Some Night Goblin Shamans also use potions made from poisonous mushrooms to induce frenzy in their companions, making them cheerfully enter battle after performing rituals." Knight Fatis returned to the topic of Night Goblins.
"These potion-fueled Night Goblins are called Fanatics.
They use special weapons, which are spiked meteor hammers swung in a continuous spin.
Such fast, wide-ranging attacks can accidentally injure their own kin.
But in the narrow confines of the underground, almost nothing can withstand such a mad strike from a Night Goblin."
A hint of fear appeared on Knight Fatis's face.
He was not afraid of death, but he did not want to die at the hands of an insignificant creature like a Goblin.
"When cleaning the battlefield, the faces of those dead Fanatics even showed a lingering joy!" Fatis concluded his statement.
Gromril nodded calmly.
He actually knew quite a bit about Night Goblins; which dwarf player hadn't fought dozens of rounds against these dark-skinned creatures in the Eastern and Western Badlands, and at Karak-Eight-Peaks?
"Has this news been reported to Lord Borok?" Gromril asked.
Before Knight Fatis could answer, two Iron Hammer Guards of Lord Borok ran over.
"Apologies for disturbing you so late, Honored Chosen of the Goddess!" they said slowly, catching their breath.
"Our Lord and Queen invite you to the Citadel Hall for a meeting."
"Please lead the way!" Gromril nodded, and several Eternal Hammer Guards followed upon hearing this.
They made their way to the upper levels of Karak Norn.
Gromril noticed that the atmosphere in the fortress had changed from the joyous one when the convoy first arrived; it was now rather heavy, likely because the news of Night Goblins appearing in the geomantic network had spread.
Entering the throne room of Barren Fort, Gromril found that many high and mid-level dwarves were already in session.
Just like at the welcoming banquet, there were still two chairs on the main dais, occupied by Lord Borok and Queen Therma, respectively.
It seemed that the privileges Borok had granted during their marriage went far beyond special diplomatic status.
In dwarf societal tradition, females typically served as mediators in councils, not easily taking sides in debates.
According to tradition, this was to honor Valaya, the dwarf Mother Goddess, who had always played such a role since the world's inception.
The wife of a Clan Lord or the Queen of a Hold would gain the right to attend meetings presided over by her husband; of course, the Queen serving as the King's chief advisor was also part of tradition.
Unlike them, Queen Therma had obtained the same rights as Lord Borok to preside over Barren Fort's diplomatic and internal affairs.
Although, for now, Lord Borok likely still held the dominant position, it was, in any case, quite astonishing in a dwarf society that respected tradition.
"Everyone, everyone, quiet down! Shouting like insects will never lead to a conclusion!" Lord Borok spoke up, suppressing the noisy crowd.
"Now, a large number of Goblins have appeared in the geomantic network.
These filthy creatures have cut off our communication with Karak-Azgaraz, and no messenger or merchant has come from there for ten days!
Our clansmen there must have encountered trouble," Queen Therma's voice rang out.
Gromril looked up at the dwarf woman.
At the previous banquet, due to Balin's reminder and the Master Earthshaker's embarrassing remarks, he had mostly looked at the food in front of him and had not interacted with Therma.
Queen Therma's appearance was quite heroic.
Unlike the typically round and soft facial features of normal dwarf women, her face was somewhat angular, revealing a certain aggressiveness that other females lacked.
In terms of height, she was also slightly taller than other females, almost level with her husband when standing together.
"We must take some action!
Undermountain Hold was directly impacted by Gulu's Waaagh, and the damaged defensive works should not yet be fully repaired.
If she unfortunately falls, our connection with Breezehold will also be cut off!"
Queen Therma's voice echoed through the hall; her voice, like her appearance, was full of heroism.
Gromril suddenly recalled an adjective from his previous life—a voice of metal and stone.
"But our Karak Norn wasn't spared from that gluttonous villain's invasion either!"
"Even the Pointy-ears in the forest suffered; that fellow cut down many trees to build his jumpy things!"
"Grimnir above! Have you heard the news from Hornburg?
That warlike Arik Luferson is going to settle scores with the Wood Elves again!"
"It's fine for him to fight and then run off!
But by next Midsummer, those deer-headed creatures will come causing trouble here again!"
The clansmen present once again displayed dwarf characteristics, with murmuring voices rising from all directions.
Gromril's system could only see the level of hatred for his own faction, but he didn't need to guess that the Barren Fort clansmen's satisfaction was quite average.
"We need to dispatch a unit, and also notify our human friends.
At the foot of the Northern Grey Mountains are the Imperial Reikland and Bretonnia's Dukedom of Parravon.
With an ancient alliance, they surely won't stand idly by!"
As a dwarf intent on reform, Lord Borok, unlike the proud and stubborn traditional clansmen, often didn't mind seeking help from allies.
"This might be somewhat difficult, My Lord!" his chamberlain suddenly poured cold water on the idea.
"Reikland is busy with reconstruction, and William III probably has the will but not the means.
As for Bretonnia, just recently, Knight King Charlemagne declared that he received a divine oracle from the Lady of the Lake—to eradicate all Greenskins in the entire world.
He therefore launched a large-scale chivalric war, intending to fight all the way to the Badlands!"
Listening to the chamberlain's words, various voices once again filled the hall.
Some clansmen praised the Knight King's heroic feat, while others criticized it as an overestimation of his own strength.
"This has taken away the main force of the Knight Kingdom, and as for the Knights of Parravon, their adventurous spirit is arguably the strongest in all of Bretonnia, though this is also related to the relatively barren land there.
However, at most, they can currently provide a few Pegasus Knights for reconnaissance," the chamberlain said, then stood with hands at his sides, returning the decision-making power to the Lord and Queen.
"What can we do?
Our previous losses were not small!"
"Ancestor Gods above! Why can't those green mushrooms be exterminated?"
"The clansmen of Undermountain Hold should be able to hold out, right?
This wave of Greenskins shouldn't be too many, right?"
Upon hearing the chamberlain's analysis, the clansmen in the hall started shouting again.
Having just experienced a major war not long ago, and with another major war predictably coming next year, even a resilient race like the dwarves would develop war-weariness.
Lord Borok on the dais looked a bit embarrassed.
Compared to the clansmen who focused more on immediate interests, those in high positions of power looked further ahead.
They understood Undermountain Hold's weakness, but also knew her importance.
However, the royal family of Karak Norn's control over the region was not enough to easily suppress dissenting voices.
Borok's father, Sargar Gold-Gatherer, once announced a beer tax in the fortress, but this move caused all the dwarves of the fortress to gather in the throne room, staging a resolute silent protest against the decree, and ultimately, the Lord had to make concessions.
Seeing Lord Borok's pleading gaze, Gromril straightened the collar of his formal attire and coughed softly once or twice.
He realized it was time for him to speak.
Gromril had always been a person who saw things through from start to finish, and Dwarves were a race that valued oaths and promises above all else. He would never abandon his mission just because some Goblins blocked his path.
"Elders, please hear me out!" After receiving nods of agreement from Lord Borrock and his wife, Gromril jumped onto the platform.
"Everyone, I understand the situation at Karak-Azgaraz. Although every one of us Sons of the Mountains is resilient and skilled in battle, it will be difficult for our kin to defend their Mountain Stronghold with damaged fortifications."
When Gromril's voice rang out, the Dwarves in the hall fell silent. With Lord Borrock and his wife having diminished prestige due to their unconventional views, Gromril, the Chosen of the Goddess, a Rune Master, and the High King's own son, commanded more trust from the clansmen.
"Father Grungni taught us that if we do not actively end the war, the war will end us!" Gromril spoke, enunciating each word clearly.
"If we ignore the plight of our kin in Undermountain Hold, once the Greenskins establish a foothold there, won't Barren Fort be the next to suffer?" Gromril expounded on the principle of mutual dependence. This garnered support from some of the clansmen below the platform.
"In my opinion, these Goblins won't have much strength! Even if they've somehow found a new Warboss and gathered again, after just experiencing a large Waaagh!, how many of them can there really be?"
Gromril began an objective analysis. Since Grumm the Great Belly King, who invaded at the beginning of the year, was arguably the most Waaagh! Goblin Warboss in Warhammer World history, many clansmen had developed a phobia of Goblins. For those clansmen who had not experienced the War of the Beard, many young'un probably thought Goblins were the strongest of the four races!
Forest Goblins correspond to Wood Elves Athel Loren, Night Goblins correspond to Dark Elves Druchii, and regular Goblins correspond to High Elves Asur. Very reasonable, isn't it?
"Everyone, you may all know how I gained the favor of the Ancestor Goddess!" Gromril paused before continuing.
"Of course, praise brave Master Gromril!"
"The Ancestor Goddess favors true Warriors!"
"Even Grumm the Great Belly King couldn't defeat you!"
Gromril and his story had, intentionally or unintentionally, spread throughout the entire dwarf Mountains. Although Gromril hadn't verified it, he was certain the story had undergone layers of exaggeration or embellishment, and was no longer the original tale of a clueless young'un carelessly rushing to his death and being immediately run over.
Under Gromril's personal account, the clansmen reacted, and the weariness of war in their hearts gradually dissipated.
"I swore an oath before the Ancestor Goddess: besides settling every deep-seated grudge, it is even more important to avoid creating new grudges! Every one of our kin is our most precious treasure, and the Ancestor Goddess and I will never stand by and watch any of them suffer a tragic fate! This applies to everyone present, and to our kin in Undermountain Hold as well!"
Upon hearing this, Lord Borrock and his wife were the first to react, giving Gromril enthusiastic applause.
"I also swore an oath before my father, His Majesty Thorgrim Grudgebearer, that I would ensure the caravan safely reached Karak-Zfirin, even if faced with a horde of dragons tamed by Pointy-ears! My oath is as steadfast as a rock!"
"My oath is as steadfast as a rock!"
Listening to Gromril's heroic words, the atmosphere in the hall grew fervent, and the clansmen eagerly expressed their support for Gromril and the impending war.
"Please allow me and my men to lead the charge! There's no time to lose, we don't know how long our kin in Undermountain Hold can hold out!" Gromril turned to the Lord and his wife, speaking loudly.
"Praise your courage, Chosen of the Goddess!" Queen Therma spoke, "I am willing to lend you half of my Brass Guard. I wish you victory and the fulfillment of your promise!"
Queen Therma's leading support astonished most Dwarves, including Gromril. This also dispelled the concerns of many local clans who feared offending the Queen, who hailed from Copper Mountain Hold, by providing aid to Gromril.
"Our Dragonbeard Clan can provide twenty Thunderer. Every one of them is an expert shot, capable of bringing down a hawk!"
"On behalf of the Hardstone clan, I offer five Ironbreaker and ten Longbeard Warriors! Fighting under the gaze of the Ancestor Goddess is the highest honor for every Son of the Mountains!"
"We can also hire some human adventurers! Production in the Imperium of Man has been significantly disrupted, so if we offer a suitable price, there will still be people willing to join!" Lord Borrock gave his decision.
Leveraging external forces when conditions allowed was Lord Borrock's consistent style. This helped reduce losses for the clansmen of Barren Fort, but also brought him criticism.
The journey from Barren Fort to Undermountain Hold was three days, and considering that the path was likely to be anything but smooth, this time could increase. The Dwarves decided to spend two days assembling the force and depart early on the third day to provide support.
Gromril returned to his room to rest. The next morning, he issued orders to assemble the caravan. Through feedback from Tomi and Balin, Gromril learned that some merchants, concerned about the risk of Goblins, had given up on continuing. They decided to either sell their goods on the spot or reroute to the Imperium of Man.
However, over eighty percent of the caravan members chose to trust Gromril and the armed forces provided by Lord Borrock. They steadfastly packed their wagons and prepared to depart.
On the eve of departure, Gromril received a troop roster sent by Lord Borrock. His current forces were as follows:
Eighty Anvil Guard
Forty Hammerer, including ten Eternal Hammer Guard
Twenty Ironbreaker
Twenty Brass Guard
One hundred Longbeard Warriors
Two hundred dwarf warriors
Sixty Thunderer and sixty Quarreler each
Thirty dwarf Rangers
Twenty dwarf Slayers
Three ballista
Two Cannons
One Flame Cannon
Twenty Iron Drake
One hundred fifty Human Adventurers, including thirty mounted ones
Three hundred dwarf Merchants and Adventurers forming the caravan
Karak Norn was equipped with a large amount of ranged firepower to counter the Wood Elves, so the support Lord Borrock provided him was primarily focused on this. He even generously dismantled one of the Flame Cannons from the city walls.
Gromril quickly calculated. He now commanded over a thousand men, a significant portion of whom were elites. At the same time, there was ample artillery support. If that wasn't enough, his own carriage still had two Organ Gun available.
Gromril made up his mind; if necessary, he would not begrudge the depreciation cost of those cannons. Organ Gun performed very well when attacking enemies like Goblins, which were numerous but of low quality.
Considering the Dwarf race's small overall population and the relatively weak Grey Mountains region, a well-trained force of over a thousand individuals was already quite formidable.
However, Gromril was not entirely at ease; he knew he might still face a fierce battle.
Night Goblins, unlike their green-skinned cousins who lived on the plains and served orks, had developed many characteristics specifically targeting dwarves over millennia of conflict.
Almost all Night Goblin melee and ranged units poisoned their weapons, smearing them with the sap of various mushrooms or even more disgusting concoctions. Though these creatures might not know the specific effects of the venom,
combined with their peculiar 'I Think It Works' power, even a tiny wound from a poisoned weapon could incapacitate a brave dwarf.
They were also adept at taming Cave Squigs, either herding these pinkish meat-balls directly into battle or riding them. These creatures' mouths, filled with dagger-like, overlapping teeth, could tear through dwarf heavy armor.
And the Fanatics… Gromril shook his head, not wanting to think any further. Captain Grenson had taught him that as a leader, he must first not show fear.
Gromril made an effort to close his eyes and drift into sleep, while outside Karak-Azgaraz, a hundred miles away, there was no such peace.
The next morning, in the mountain mist, Gromril rose from his bed. He donned his armor, picked up his warhammer, and mounted his rock ram.
At the western gate of Karak Norn, a combined dwarf and human army was assembling. Gromril saw Lord and Queen Borok and went straight to greet them.
"May the Ancestor Goddess bless you! How is it? Are there any supplies still needed?" Lord Borok asked, patting Gromril's shoulder.
By his reckoning, Lord Arik Luferson's revenge mission was about to begin. Lord and Queen Borok needed to remain in Barren Fort to deal with potential attacks from the Athel Loren Forest, so they would not accompany the army.
"Don't worry!" Gromril said, adopting a confident posture. "I believe the Ancestor Goddess is watching over us. Under Her divine radiance, nothing can stop us Sons of the Mountains!"
"I promise that I will successfully lift the siege of Karak-Azgaraz and severely punish those filthy greenskins who dared to invade our kin!" Gromril's words resonated through the underground tunnel, and the clansmen cheered, their morale soaring.
"Take this!" Gromril whispered, discreetly handing a small block to Lord Borok.
"What is this?" Lord Borok asked curiously, also lowering his voice. Looking at the small block glowing with runic light in his hand, countless conjectures flashed through Lord Borok's mind.
"Could this be something like a lich's phylactery? Does the Ancestor Goddess grant Her chosen ones a chance to resurrect when they suffer a fatal wound?" His imagination began to run wild.
"This is a communication device!" Gromril said, pulling another block from his pocket. He had made this pair of runic telegraphs during his rest breaks along the way.
"When I infuse runic energy into the one in my hand, the one in yours will also light up simultaneously," Gromril explained, demonstrating as he spoke.
Watching the runes on the object in his hand flicker on and off, Lord Borok was slightly stunned. Even though he was considered quite open-minded among the dwarves living in the Mountain Stronghold, limited by his era, he still couldn't fully grasp the immense utility of this item on his own.
"What does it…?" Lord Borok asked.
"It can be used to transmit information!" Seeing that it was almost time for the army to depart, Gromril stopped playing coy.
"If I make it glow in a long-short-long sequence, that means everything is going well, and the troops you sent to support me will return soon. But if I send three short signals consecutively, that means the battle is unfavorable, and urgent support is needed!" Gromril explained.
Lord Borok stared at the object in his hand, nodding. "Can it also…?" He had an idea and asked tentatively.
"Yes, it can also be used to transmit other types of information. In principle, as long as we don't mind the trouble, we can have any conversation using the same encoding rules," Gromril said.
"But time is short now; it just needs to work!" Seeing Tomi already waving, Gromril left Lord Borok, who was deep in thought, and returned to the army.
Walking back amidst his Anvil Guard, Gromril noticed the Brass Guards supported by Queen Therma; they were a unique unit assembled by Karak Izor.
These twenty dwarves wore finely forged, refined brass armor and carried single-handed shields and single-handed warhammers, all undoubtedly made of brass.
Besides the golden glow from their highly polished, almost mirror-like brass surfaces, these armaments were also inscribed with runes, silently proclaiming the wealth of Copper Mountain Hold.
With a command from Gromril, the army quickly set off. Every member knew what they were about to face, but they were fearless, their chests filled with duty and honor.
The army advanced quickly. Gromril did not lead the front; he entrusted command of the vanguard to Captain Grenson. This long-lived Eternal Hammer Guard had centuries of experience dealing with Goblins.
The task of commanding the rear fell to Roggof the Manticore Butcher. This brave warrior remained constantly vigilant. For easier underground combat, he had put aside his original two-handed great axe and instead carried two single-handed battle axes to increase killing efficiency.
Gromril, surrounded by his Anvil Guard, walked with the artillery crew. Cannons were indispensable for effectively crushing Goblins.
Knight Fatis and his men walked with their horses on both sides of the geomantic network, acting as mobile forces to support the front and rear.
Undermountain Hold, like most dwarf strongholds, was built by hollowing out the mountain, with one-third above ground and two-thirds below. Under the bright moonlight, a flat area outside the city gate was crowded with dense Night Goblins, their eyes glowing with an evil red light.
These Goblins, under command, were attempting to assault the main gate of Undermountain Hold using crude ladders, with a few rickety Goblin catapults providing fire support.
"Laosha, how's my Doomdiver Catapult coming along?"
"Respected Boss, I think it'll take a few more days! Those little runts just crawled out of the ground; they're not very good at it yet!"