Chương 233

The dwarf stood on the platform, casually resting his warhammer on his shoulder. He surveyed the human mages with a critical eye, clearly noting how their robes were pristine compared to his own battered armor. Despite the cultural tension that traditionally defined relations between the mountain clans and the magic users, Orion was relieved to see that he was pragmatic enough to recognize a rescue when he saw one.

He's not swinging his warhammer, which is a warmer welcome than most humans receive when they try to enter the Forgelands.

"You aren't from the border patrols," the dwarf stated. His voice was a deep, gravelly rumble that carried easily over the mountain wind.

"I can see both Sanctum and Collegium robes, so this must be some kind of hybrid mission. It's been a long time since your kind came knocking on our doors, much less doing it together." Despite the Adamantine Forge being the Sanctum's closest neighbor, as its lands covered the western half of the Silvermount Range, contact between the two was very limited, at least through official channels.

That didn't mean the dwarves were entirely isolated, as it was common for their young to go on a pilgrimage around Cyril to see the world before the responsibilities of their clans kept them deep in the mountains, but compared to the free flow of commerce and people with the Collegium, it was barely a trickle.

"Circumstances demanded we forgo the usual methods," Orion replied politely, offering a respectful bow. The 'usual methods' involved meeting at a border post where goods could be exchanged without allowing any outsiders in.

"I am Orion Voidwalker. We came to warn you that the Iron State is moving against you." The dwarf finally lowered his hammer completely, letting the iron head clang against the stone floor. He seemed to linger on Orion's face, probably because of his youth, but he clearly remembered the magic that had torn the siege walkers from the cliff face, so he didn't remark on it. This, again, was about as friendly as a dwarf could get, as far as Orion knew.

Thane Thurgar," he introduced himself, his tone cautious but not openly hostile.

"You fought well, and without your help, we would have lost a lot before finally driving those damnable creations away. My clan owes you a debt for the lives saved today." At his side, Orion noticed that the mages were beginning to get restless. Allowing a teenager to lead the first contact during a diplomatic mission was so unusual it was almost unheard of, but once again, his lineage forced them to stay silent.

"I'm sure you would have mounted a brave defense, but it's unlikely things would have gone your way, " Orion clarified softly, then hurried to continue when the dwarf frowned.

"The enemy employs a sophisticated alchemical compound that actively consumes ambient mana and dismantles spell structures. We call it the Silence." Thurgar's thick eyebrows knit together as he processed the information, which was already an achievement in itself, considering the pride dwarves were said to take in their defenses. He looked over the edge of the platform toward the gorge where the fallen walkers had disappeared, and after mulling Orion's words for a minute, spat a wad of soot onto the stone.

"A substance that eats magic. That explains why the golems were so useless. That's a coward's weapon, but an effective one."

"It is indeed highly effective," Samael agreed, stepping forward and gesturing for Orion to let him take over, who gave in with a shrug.

"And the force you just encountered was only a scouting party. We intercepted their communications, and we believe they are clearing a route through the forest specifically to reach your foundries." Thurgar's expression darkened at that. It was known that the dwarves had defended their forges from all sorts of enemies over the ages, from the monsters living deep within their mines to the Sovereignty when they attacked Cyril's western coast.

That some new foe was targeting them was perhaps not surprising, but considering their poor performance against a simple scouting unit, his wariness was understandable. With a grunt, he hoisted his hammer back over his shoulder and turned toward the open gap in the stone doors.

"If what you say is true, the elders need to hear it," Thurgar said, gesturing for them to follow.

"Come inside. The Clanlord will want to know exactly what kind of rotten goblinshite we are dealing with." Orion fell into step behind Samael, with the rest of the team quickly following. They passed through the towering gates, leaving the cold mountain air behind for the strange warmth of the Adamantine Forge's fortress. The passageway was expansive, lit by streams of flowing lava channeled through intricate aqueducts along the walls.

Sweeping archways, carved with incredible precision, supported a vaulted ceiling that seemed to stretch endlessly upward. It was a triumph of stonework and engineering, but the atmosphere inside the entrance hall was chaotic and bleak. Dwarven warriors slumped against the walls, their armor dented and scored by the alchemical darts. Healers moved frantically among them, casting magic that emitted a pale green light as they tried to close the corrosive burns.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Notably, it was very different in both composition and execution from the light-based healing spells used by the Sanctum and most white mages around Cyril. If anything, it was more like what Orion would have expected the Druids to use, since it was mostly based on nature mana, but he doubted pointing that out would earn him any favor.

As Samael was led to a different area, taking two of his mages with him, the rest were asked to wait outside while the clan conferred. Although the architecture was interesting enough to catch Orion's attention, it couldn't hold his focus for long. He slowed his pace as he passed a triage station, where a young healer was pouring a steady stream of restoration magic into a warrior's ruined shoulder, but the wound was only hissing, emitting a thin trail of noxious smoke.

The warrior grimaced, his face pale with shock, and it was clear that, if anything, the attempt was causing him more pain.

"Stop casting," Orion advised softly, stepping closer. The healer snapped up, having been fully focused on the task, and went to bare his teeth, but stopped in surprise when he noticed it was a human, and not another dwarf.

"You are fueling the reaction," Orion explained, keeping his voice perfectly level to avoid sounding condescending, which he knew he tended to do when explaining something basic.

"The residue in the wound is meant to consume mana. The more magic you pour into it, the deeper it burns. Wash it with mundane water to remove the Silence first, and only use your magic once the hissing stops." The healer hesitated, looking around for someone to tell him what to do, but similar scenes kept repeating throughout the entrance hall, as magic failed to do much to help the wounded.

Recognizing that waiting for someone more senior was unlikely and that his methods weren't working, the healer grabbed a simple waterskin and a cloth soaked in alkaline soap, then scrubbed the wound. The warrior hissed in dull pain, but the unnatural smoke immediately stopped, and when the healer cautiously cast a minor restoration spell a moment later, the flesh finally began to knit itself together, if more slowly than it should have.

Such a simple solution was only possible because the Silence coating on the darts was thin, but even that small amount could cause countless problems until it was removed.

"Orion." Patting the healer on the shoulder, Orion got up and walked over to Pauline, who jerked her head toward the door where Samael had disappeared. It was now open again, and a younger dwarf was impatiently staring at them.

"They called for us?" He asked, mildly surprised.

"I'm halfway tempted to tell them exactly who they're trying to boss around, but it's just as likely they would kidnap you to use you as a pawn if we did," she replied, exasperated. Not wanting to annoy their host more than necessary, they followed the dwarf and were led deep into the fortress, winding through a series of defensible chokepoints until they reached a grand meeting chamber.

A heavy basalt table dominated the room, surrounded by several older dwarves clad in armor that was so overly intricate it could only be ceremonial. At the head of the table stood someone who, upon quick identification, turned out to be Clanlord Borin, a broad-shouldered dwarf with a beard braided with thick silver rings. He had reached the second half of tier three but wasn't particularly impressive beyond that.

He was in the middle of a heated argument with his generals, pounding a fist on a map of the nearby mountains.

"You let them retreat!" Borin barked, glaring at a subordinate.

"We should have sent the tunnelers to collapse the gorge on top of them."

"They climbed down into the gorge, Clanlord," the general argued.

"Our tunnelers couldn't reach them without exposing the lower vents." Thurgar cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the argument.

"Clanlord, the ones I told you about just arrived. They were the ones who intervened on the outer wall and broke the siege walkers' ascent." Borin turned, his gaze sweeping over the humans, and he didn't look particularly grateful. His eyes narrowed at the fabric of their robes.

"Collegium and Sanctum. Wandering far from your towers, aren't you? Did you come to gloat, or to spy?" Samael took the insult without flinching, though Orion had to wonder how long that would last.

"We were sent by Archmage Valentia to deliver critical intelligence, since it seems not to have reached you yet, Clanlord. The forces that attacked your gates belong to the Iron State, an industrialized nation currently invading Cyril on various fronts, and we have reason to believe they have specifically targeted the Adamantine Forge to fuel their war machine." Borin let out a harsh, barking laugh.

"An invasion? And the High Council decided to send humans to tell us? If the continent were at war, our representatives in Valderun would have sent an official courier! We've heard nothing from the capital, which means either you are lying or they are! So which is it, humans?" Although the hostility was unnecessary and gratuitous, there were several interesting points in the Clanlord's speech.

First, the High Council was fully aware of the Iron State, which meant the dwarven representative in Valderun knew about the threat as well as anyone else. Yet, this fortress, sitting directly in the enemy's newly charted path, had been kept completely in the dark. As far as Orion knew, dwarven politics were notoriously intricate, driven by centuries-old grudges and clan rivalries.

If a medium-sized clan was wiped out by a mysterious, foreign enemy, their rich ore veins and strategic strongholds would be left abandoned. It was a flawless, bloodless coup for whoever stepped in to reclaim the territory afterward. They have been intentionally isolated and abandoned to the wolves by their own political rivals. But how can they be made to see the truth? Thurgar seems more sensible, but ultimately, the Clanlord's decision will determine the outcome.

"The lack of communication from the capital is troubling," Samael continued, his patience clearly thinning.

"But the threat is real. We have their deployment orders that show their interest in the mana pool in your territory, and as you noticed, they possess mobile golems that can easily outmatch your defenses. You must integrate your forces with the rest of the coalition immediately if you want to stand a chance." Orion cast the man a mildly amused glance. Was that supposed to be diplomatic?

"Integrate?" Borin sneered, leaning over the table.

"You mean submit. We are the masters of our land, and our gates have stood for a thousand years. No human alchemy or crawling machines will break them. We don't need your magic, and we don't need your support." The argument quickly turned into a fierce clash of cultures. Samael depended on the prestige of his faction, expecting instant compliance because of the Collegium's overwhelming power.

Borin, driven by pride, stubbornly refused to admit any weakness, even though he knew they would have lost if help hadn't arrived. Seeing that Samael was making no progress, Orion tuned out the arguing. He let his eyes wander across the chamber, checking out the other occupants in hopes of finding someone who could help. Most of the elders mirrored Borin's arrogant bluster or were passive toward it, but one figure standing near the back wall stood out.

He was a younger dwarf, dressed in simple leather and chainmail instead of the ornate plate armor worn by the elders, and unlike the others, he was merely watching the humans. Orion focused on the quiet observer, sending a thin thread of mana into his glasses. Daelin Lazuli — Hidden Prince Class: Runesmith [B-rank] Level: 85 Mind: 310 Attunement: 240 Body: 410 Traits: Mana Manipulation [B-rank]; Runic Master [B-rank]; Thermal Tolerance [C-rank]; Lazuli Sacred Art [B-rank] Huh, would you look at that.