After listening to Kalad's self-introduction, Gromril, being a transmigrator, was the first to react.
He stood up, twisted open the tap on the wine barrel in the carriage, and poured two cups of the best-selling Bergman's Select, handing one to the dwarf in front of him.
"My friend, would you be willing to tell us your story? If you don't mind," Gromril began.
Many wandering dwarves had their own untold difficulties; they might have suffered a humiliation not severe enough to make them choose to become Slayers, or they might have been exiled for some reason.
Many wanderers did not like to tell their stories, but Gromril believed that since this dwarf had approached them, he must be willing to speak.
"Heh, since you're interested, I'll tell you then!" Kalad did not disappoint Gromril's expectations, and after they clinked cups, he began to speak.
"I come from a clan residing in the Imperium of Man. According to the records in the book of grudges, our homeland fell during the Dark Ages."
Upon hearing this, Gromril and the surrounding clansmen all felt a pang of sympathy; more than half of the dwarves living outside the Mountains could trace their origins back to this reason.
"As I awakened my Ancestor's Bloodline and gained the qualification to wield the power of Runes, I was naturally taken as an apprentice by the only Rune Smith in our settlement."
Kalad took a sip of beer, and a faint glow seemed to appear on his face, clearly indicating it was a fond memory.
"Unlike you, who studied under Grand Master Krag, a powerful being comparable to the Ancestor Gods, my teacher, although he taught me everything he knew, you know, for us clansmen far from the Mountains, our heritage has been greatly lost."
Gromril nodded; he understood this situation. Due to the smaller population, if there were no suitable individuals of age who awakened the Ancestor's Bloodline nearby, the skills of these Rune Smiths outside the Mountains faced the risk of being lost.
Even if an apprentice was reluctantly found, they might not be capable enough to master all of the teacher's skills, and in such cases, some Runes would still be lost.
"My teacher only mastered five, or rather, four and a half Runes!" Kalad sighed.
"Perhaps Thurni was secretly protecting me. I had fully learned my master's skills by the age of one hundred and twenty. I was still young then and didn't want to spend my entire life enchanting equipment in front of an Anvil. To further improve my abilities, I left our settlement and returned to the Mountain Kingdoms."
Kalad's expression darkened again; clearly, he had some unpleasant experiences during this period.
"I visited many peers, but, alas, I gained nothing!"
Gromril could guess what had happened. Rune Smiths generally disliked sharing the power of Runes. Some with prejudiced personalities might even hold back if they thought an apprentice wasn't capable enough, deliberately letting their own skills be lost, let alone with a dwarf like Kalad who came with existing skills.
As for academic exchanges between users of the same level, it was usually in the form of exchanging unmastered Runes, just as Grand Master Silverfinger had requested before, exchanging a Master-level Flight Rune for a Master-level Tracking Rune.
Gromril knew without asking that the Runes Kalad had mastered were all common ones like Hearth and Home, Speed, Power, etc., leaving no room for exchange.
"I understand, the Rune Smith Guild has this kind of atmosphere. If I have the chance, I am willing to make changes!" Gromril promised. In this caravan, his status was the highest, and he wasn't worried about being criticized.
Kalad nodded, noncommittally continuing, "To have the opportunity to continue improving myself, I decided to create my own Runes!"
"Did you succeed?" Gromril asked in surprise. Creating one's own Runes was a very difficult task, even for Rune Masters.
"I succeeded, but it can also be said that I failed!" Kalad hedged, but this time Gromril did not interrupt.
"I combined my incomplete heritage and some available information, spending ten years to create a Rune, but its effect was not significant."
"As expected!" Gromril interjected. Developing Runes was comparable to his previous life's scientific research; often, for results to be applied, they needed to overcome a difficult conversion hurdle.
"So, what effect does the Rune you developed have?" Gromril asked; he still wanted to know.
"Grungni above! What's on your feet? Could it be?" Kalad suddenly stared at Gromril's boots and asked.
As dwarves habitually sat cross-legged on the ground, Gromril's feet were propped up, revealing his starli boots.
"Indeed, they are the starli boots!"
"The reason I'm excited isn't because of the boots' preciousness, but because the inspiration for my Rune research came precisely from this!" Kalad said, adjusting his sitting posture.
Seeing his cup empty, Gromril poured him another.
"How so?" Gromril gently prompted.
"My heritage happened to include the technique of engraving a Rune on two items to make it function normally. I combined this technique with the Illumination Rune I mastered, so whenever one half of the Rune is activated, the other half will also light up synchronously."
Gromril fell into thought. Kalad smirked at his reaction.
"It's very uninteresting, isn't it? But I believe it can definitely serve some purpose. To apply it, I went incognito to learn engineering techniques, but unfortunately, with Lord Arik Luferson of Karak-Heorn ascending to power, he expelled the already few members of the Engineers Guild from Hornburg. That's why I've appeared before you."
"How far can this Rune maintain its connection?" Gromril stroked the beard on his chest. He suddenly had an idea.
"It depends on the power source, Master!" Kalad got into his stride when talking about his research.
"By the Rune's own power, it's only a few hundred meters. Of course, this might be because the raw materials I used were ordinary, but if our peers or human spellcasters infuse energy into it, the effective distance can be up to hundreds of kilometers! I did an experiment with a wizard friend of mine; I was in Hornburg, and he was in the Empire's Avelorn, and the Rune was still effective at that distance."
"Furthermore, I deduce that if someone with stronger power, like you or even your master, provides the energy, the connection distance will be even greater! I haven't had contact with treasures like the anvil of doom, but I believe that if it were engraved on that, with its characteristic of automatically drawing in the Winds of Magic, it might even eliminate the need for someone to recharge it!"
Kalad-Stormwalker spoke volubly about his technology, perhaps because Gromril was one of the few Rune Masters willing to listen to his story, or perhaps to convey it to the Ancestor Goddess.
"My friend, can the duration of their glow be controlled?" Gromril asked a crucial question.
"Yes, as long as there's enough energy, this rune, like all other runes, can remain active until the object carrying it rusts away," Kalad said with certainty.
"If you're interested, I can demonstrate it for you right now." Seeing the stew bubbling in the pot, clearly still a while before it was ready to eat, Kalad offered.
With that, he took out two square objects, both gleaming with the light of runes.
"These are some of my engineering achievements over the years. They can accelerate charging speed and reduce energy dissipation, but they only have a significant effect on this particular rune."
Seeing Gromril's interest in the two bases, Kalad offered further explanation. He handed one of them to Gromril.
As Kalad injected energy, the runes in both of their hands lit up, even though Gromril hadn't moved at all.
"Let me try too!" Gromril was very excited. He also injected energy into the base in his hand, and watching the object in Kalad's hand light up in response, Gromril's excitement was clear.
He then tried increasing and decreasing the injection time, and the two blocks glowed simultaneously, sometimes long, sometimes short, their light reflecting on Gromril's face.
The clansmen around them looked at this sight and Gromril's unrestrained smile with surprise. In their eyes, this Chosen of the Goddess had either received a divine oracle from the Ancestor Goddess or had accidentally eaten some intoxicating mushrooms.
"My friend, you are simply a genius!" Gromril tried to control himself, but his voice still trembled slightly.
"I want the technology for this rune. Name your price!" he declared decisively.
The clansmen around them frowned upon hearing this. Cousins Balin and Tomi even prepared to interject and advise him.
In their opinion, this wanderer of unknown origin had probably deceived Gromril, who was on his first long journey away from home.
Gromril, seeing their reactions, raised a hand to stop his trusted companions. He stared intently at Kalad before him.
"Five, five thousand gold coins?" Kalad felt a little unnerved by his gaze. Accustomed to the cold shoulders of his clansmen, he found Gromril's enthusiasm a bit hard to accept.
"Too little, too little!" Gromril shouted, pounding the floor with his hand.
Hearing this, the surrounding Dwarves could no longer remain calm. Who would complain that something was too cheap when buying it? This must be the effect of eating frenzied mushrooms.
"I offer one hundred Oathgold!" Gromril's voice was loud, silencing the restless clansmen around him.
"Grungni above!"
"How did the Ancestor Goddess choose such a spendthrift?"
"This wanderer is definitely problematic!"
The clansmen cried out one after another. Those sitting close by heard the full story, while those farther away only heard Gromril's generous offer.
Seeing Gromril stand up and head for the strongbox in the carriage, Captain Grenson and Balin could no longer sit still.
"Please reconsider, esteemed Chosen of the Goddess!"
"Cousin, those Oathgold are for important uses!"
"Don't rush, don't rush!" Gromril said, counting the Oathgold.
"You don't know the purpose of this rune. In my opinion, it's far more important than that anvil of doom!" With so many ears around, Gromril didn't want to explain further. He used his authority to suppress the dissent.
Locking the remaining Oathgold back in the strongbox, Gromril returned to Kalad with the pouch in his hand.
"Get me two contract papers!" Gromril instructed Cousin Tomi.
Soon, two pieces of parchment and a matching dip pen were laid out between Gromril and Kalad. These were the items used to write formal Dwarven contracts.
Contracts written with these items would have every word imbued with the Winds of Magic; they could not be altered, and as long as properly preserved, they were practically immortal.
"Let's confirm the details!" Gromril said, holding the Oathgold and looking at Kalad.
Kalad, who came from a Dwarven settlement in the Imperium of Man, had never seen such a large sum of treasure. His eyes were wide with amazement.
"I wish to buy out the method of inscribing this rune, as well as all future potential avenues of profit derived from it. One hundred Oathgold, do you accept?" Gromril asked, enunciating each word.
Kalad nodded frantically. This rune, which had previously earned him much ridicule from his peers, was not only recognized but also purchased for a hefty sum on this desolate night. He was only afraid Gromril would calm down and go back on his word!
Tomi quickly drafted the contract terms. After a brief review, Gromril and Kalad both signed their full names on both copies of the contract.
With the contract established, both Dwarves breathed a sigh of relief.
"What are your plans next?" Gromril ladled a bowl of hot soup, dipped a piece of hardtack into it, and took a bite.
"Me? I plan to go to Zhufbar to further improve my engineering skills. Since the path of runes isn't working out, I have other ways to contribute to the Mountains!" Kalad looked to the future with a radiant face.
"Zhufbar? Then I can indeed help. I'll write a letter of recommendation to Brokk, the Head of the Engineers Guild. He'll like a creative clansmen like you," Gromril said.
"Valaya above! That's perfect!" Kalad, with double good fortune, called out a divine name.
The two discussed and decided that Kalad would first travel with the caravan towards Hornburg for a stretch, teaching Gromril the method of inscribing this rune along the way. It wouldn't be too late for him to go to Zhufbar once he had learned it.
The caravan subsequently passed through two small Dwarven settlements, both established by individual clans. They maintained their daily lives by trading with the surrounding humans, mining underground resources, and farming their own land.
Some clan members joined the caravan. They wanted to take this opportunity to sell some products in the city and purchase supplies their clan could not produce.
When only a day's journey remained to Hornburg, Gromril had successfully mastered this rune, simple in construction but quite ingenious in concept.
Kalad immediately hired a carriage and two guards from the caravan to travel to Zhufbar. With a large sum of money, he needed some extra security.
Watching the receding figure of Kalad-Stormwalker, Gromril muttered to himself, "Zhufbar, that's not really far. I hope you bring me new surprises next time we meet!"
Over the next day, Gromril sat on his saddle, constantly writing and drawing in a small notebook. He was recalling a technology from his previous life—the telegraph.
While the foundation for transmitting telegrams in this fantasy world had been laid, Gromril still needed to conceptualize the actual sending of messages.
Although telegram machines were never absent from various war films in Gromril's previous life, Gromril only knew about "Morse code" and its general principles; how to adapt it here still required research.
"It took so long to barely encode the twenty-six letters of the Common Tongue. As for common symbols, common abbreviations, and communication protocols, I'll find time for those later! If this keeps up, I'll go bald!" Gromril thought to himself.
Suddenly, he was startled by a series of "Woo!" "Woo!" horn blasts.
"What's happening? Where are the horns sounding?" Gromril unhooked his warhammer from the side of his rock ram, waving it around as he looked everywhere.
He couldn't see clearly through the mountain mist. At this, the dwarves beside him couldn't help but laugh.
"Cousin, that's the wind howling through the Mountains!" Balin's voice came faintly from behind him.
"Do you know why Karak-Heorn is named as it is?" Balin asked. After Gromril gave a negative reply, he began to display his knowledge.
Ever since Cousin Tomi joined Gromril's party and successfully sold some firearms in Ironforge and other settlements, Balin, the advisor, had felt some pressure. He began to more actively showcase himself, and Gromril was quite satisfied with this healthy competition.
"Hornburg is named after the sound the mountain winds make as they blow through narrow mountain passes. The clansmen living here further built various wind chambers to amplify this sound, using it to transmit messages, summon warriors, and scare away wandering Trolls," Balin explained.
"Karak-Heorn is one of the few Mountain Strongholds built after the War of Vengeance, but she guards Wintertooth Pass. clansmen from the Border Princes, the mercenary kingdom of Tilea, and those of us living in the Vaults Mountains, all must pass through this route to enter the Empire's Wissenland," Balin continued, introducing Hornburg's geographical location.
"Although the Black Mountains region lacks many rare minerals we cherish, such as meteorite iron and gemstones, with such superior geographical conditions and the local, relatively abundant iron ore resources, Karak-Heorn developed very quickly. A trade center formed here, and it is also the most important fortress in the Black Mountains."
After listening to Balin's introduction, Gromril nodded repeatedly. The Ancestors once said, "Only by forging iron can one become a blacksmith." He also needed to gain knowledge during his travels to better understand this world.
There's also an old saying in the Cathay Empire to the east: "Looking at a mountain can kill a horse!" What's more, he only heard the sound and hadn't even seen it yet!
Gromril found a sheltered spot in a mountain hollow to arrange for the convoy to set up camp. According to the plan, they would only reach Hornburg by tomorrow afternoon.
The next morning, after Gromril woke up, he and the merchant from Zhufbar covered their firearms with waterproof tarpaulins.
Due to its proximity to an important fortress, the security along this stretch of road was quite good. Gromril simply arranged for the Thunderers and artillery crew to put away their weapons.
Although Gromril believed that Lord Arik Luferson would not take any action against him and his caravan for carrying firearms, why not respect the other party's preferences when it doesn't affect the overall situation?
In the afternoon, amidst the sunset glow, Gromril arrived in front of Hornburg's side gate. Its main gate faced Wintertooth Pass directly, backed by the Black Mountains, while near the side gate were the famous mountain horns.
Looking at the miraculously crafted natural caves and cleverly designed wind chambers, Gromril couldn't help but marvel at the wisdom of his clansmen.
At this moment, it seemed the dwarves in the city made some adjustments, and certain wind chambers changed their angles, making the "Woo! Woo!" horn sounds become clearer and more joyful.
When Gromril and the convoy were still five hundred meters away, the side gate suddenly opened, and a group of dwarves poured out, led by a unit of Ironbreakers.
Seeing these people, Gromril knew this meant that the Lord of Karak-Heorn, Arik Luferson, had personally come out to greet him.
Gromril climbed down from the rock ram. As he walked, he straightened his wind-ruffled cuffs and collar.
"Welcome to Hornburg! clansmen of Everpeak! May the Ancestor Goddess always bless you, honored Master Gromril!" As Gromril approached, the dwarf at the front of the group spoke.
"Greetings in the name of the High King! Lord of Karak-Heorn!" Gromril bowed in return.
He saw that the dwarf before him was very capable and strong, and his equipment was highly recognizable.
He was not wearing the meteorite iron armor commonly seen on dwarf Lords, but rather a golden leather armor. However, Gromril knew this was also a legendary quality item: Karag-Klad Armor, which the first Lord who established Hornburg created from the dragon hide of a Great Dragon he slew that had originally dwelled in the Black Mountains.
Besides the golden leather armor gleaming in the sunset, Arik's helmet was also very striking. It was equipped with a pair of huge uprights—a pair of eagle wings extending from each side.
It was certain that the raw materials for this were once again generously provided by Hornburg's Ancestors, who didn't understand wildlife protection.
Based on the size of these wings, Gromril secretly speculated that the eagle was most likely not wild, but very possibly a Giant Eagle tamed by the Wood Elves in Athel Loren Forest. If this were true, wearing such a helmet would undoubtedly be a provocation to the Wood Elf ladies.
This somewhat extravagant equipment made Arik himself appear a bit small, but Gromril couldn't laugh at all. Because he knew this was yet another legendary item.
The Falcon Helm, undoubtedly named for its unique shape, could greatly enhance the wearer's vision and agility.
Gromril secretly marveled at Hornburg's strength. Although Lord Arik was not carrying a weapon, no one would doubt that it too would be of legendary quality. By this reckoning, the royal family here possessed at least three legendary items, which was a lot even in the entire Mountains Kingdom.
The two dwarves sized each other up. Gromril noticed that Lord Arik was similar in age to Brother Grom; his beard was entirely black and had just grown past his abdomen. He had a resolute expression and seemed somewhat stern.
The convoy entered the city under the guidance of Hornburg's clansmen. Approximately half of Karak-Heorn was exposed above ground, with the underground section primarily consisting of mines and storage rooms. Therefore, most of the residents here lived above ground.
Gromril found the proportion of humans here to be alarmingly high, far exceeding that of the cities in the World's Edge Mountains. Humans and dwarves were almost at a one-to-one ratio, and because of their taller stature, they appeared even more numerous overall.
After a round of feasting, Gromril returned to his room. Knowing Lord Arik Luferson's conservative style beforehand, Gromril did not engage in deep conversation with him.
As the saying goes, those with different paths do not conspire together. Gromril did not want to waste words on this matter, as it was likely not something that could be resolved through mere discussion.
Since Hornburg was the trade center of this region, the entire caravan would stay here for at least a week. Gromril simply stayed in his room, recalling and arranging telegraph rules.
On the afternoon of the third day, Tomi knocked on his door. "Cousin Gromril, are you interested in going out for a stroll? I know there's an auction tonight at the city's largest Golden Barrel Merchant Guild!" Tomi excitedly tried to rally him.
"Hmm, I think I'd rather…" Gromril was about to refuse. Although he was somewhat tempted, he didn't want to go out and stir up trouble, especially since he had both firearms and an Engineer with him.
"Come and see, my respected Chosen of the Goddess. Don't you always say you want to broaden your horizons? This time, besides goods from us Sons of the Mountains, there are also many merchants from the Imperium of Man!"
Tomi continued to encourage him, "Due to Gulu's Waaagh, many human families were wiped out, and some who fortunately survived have to sell off some treasures to raise funds for rebuilding their territories. I heard that the variety of items at this auction is the richest in recent years!"
This time, Gromril was even more tempted, mainly because he knew that the prices of goods from the Imperium of Man might be much cheaper than in the Mountains. He had already realized the inflation that existed here.
However, he then thought that the humans might be sending their goods to Karak-Heorn for this very reason, to sell them in an auction format. This would inevitably lead to competition with equally wealthy clansmen. At that point, not only would there be no bargains, but there might even be a premium.
"You know my financial situation. That oath-gold is for buying the anvil of doom. I spent a hundred coins on runes on the way, and I don't even know if what's left is enough! It definitely cannot be touched."
Gromril picked up the coffee on the table and took a sip. Hornburg was close to the Imperium of Man, and the Border Princes also produced coffee, so the coffee prices here were lower and the quality better than at Everpeak.
He had asked Tomi to purchase a lot these past few days and planned to bring some back to Karaz-A-Karak on the return journey to give to Sonia as thanks for her generous help.
"As for ordinary gold coins, Cousin, you were present when I borrowed money from Sonia, and you also handled the subsequent arms deals. Don't you know how much I have? I won't be able to get anything good if I go!"
Gromril told him truthfully, and his well-reasoned analysis made Tomi a bit embarrassed.
Cousin Tomi scratched his head and confessed:
"Alright, actually, I wanted to go myself, but Balin and Brim also had the same idea. We used your name to get an admission ticket, but today the organizers informed us that you need to be present in person for it to be valid."
"Alas, the tree desires stillness, but the wind will not cease!" Gromril sighed and quoted another idiom. He nodded, agreeing to go.
"Help me gather the Eternal Hammer Guard. Have them change into different uniforms, nothing too conspicuous!" Gromril instructed. He opened the cabinet, took out the remaining four hundred oath-gold coins, and put them in his pocket. Although he didn't plan to buy anything, it wouldn't hurt to bring them along.
Soon, Captain Grenson appeared with five Guards. They were not wearing their distinctive blue uniforms but had their armor exposed like normal Iron Hammer Guards.
However, their robust physiques and snow-white long beards still proclaimed their extraordinary nature to the world. Since one pass only allowed ten people to enter, Gromril did not bring all of his Guards.
Tomi led the way, and the group quickly reached the city's central square. At the corner, the rather insightful merchant untied the backpack from his back and distributed a pile of hooded cloaks to everyone.
They put on the cloaks, used the hoods to cover half their faces, tucked their beards into their cloaks, and concealed their weapons within the cloaks before entering the merchant guild's main door.
A dwarf greeter glanced at Gromril and his invitation before quickly letting them through. "Box eight. Perhaps we can add a seat for the Ancestor Goddess!" The dwarf made a small joke.
Gromril noticed that he also had a human colleague responsible for checking the invitations of human guests. Upon entering the box, the group relaxed.
The auction house had a classic dwarf style. The auctioneer and the goods were on steps at the deepest part of the underground, and seats fanned out from the steps, with the height increasing the further away they were, ensuring every customer had a good view. Dwarves and humans sat in separate rows in the hall to avoid obstructed views.
The boxes were carved into the rock face, offering excellent privacy.
The initial lots were some rare-quality weapons and equipment, bulk commodities, and some real estate. Gromril had little interest in these, and among the Dwarves present, only Brim, who hadn't traveled far, watched intently.
"The service here is quite good!" Gromril thought to himself as he munched on the free refreshments provided in the box. He could tell from the goods and the voices of the bidders that many merchants from the caravan had also come here.
Through Tomi's introduction, Gromril learned that the items auctioned in this phase were all valuable, and the reason for auctioning them was that the owners were willing to concede some profit for quick monetization.
Just as Gromril was dozing off, the auctioneer's words suddenly caught his attention: "Next up for auction is a batch of firearms from Zhufbar. First, two cannons, they are…"
"Oh dear!" Gromril slapped his thigh. "I wish I had known, we could have sent our goods to be auctioned too!" Gromril regretted his belated realization.
"Don't worry, Cousin, the clansmen of the Grey Mountains need them more. If not, it's not too late to auction them on our way back." Tomi said, comforting him.
Gromril perked up and began to pay attention to the auction. He recorded prices while observing the bidders, as these callers were all his potential buyers!
Soon, he noticed a human. This human was very tall, half a head taller than his kinsmen in front and behind him. Although he wore a robe, his plate armor could still be seen underneath. Gromril deduced from this that he was a knight.
"He must not be from Bretonnia; the knightly lords there would never procure firearms. If he were a knight of the Imperium of Man, well, they wouldn't come here to buy either. That leaves only Tilea or the Border Princes." Gromril analyzed in his mind.
This knight was quite persistent about firearms but seemed to have limited financial resources. He bid on every group of items but always lost out. Gromril, sitting high up, took all of this in.
Not many firearms were transported from Zhufbar, and after a few rounds, the auction moved to the next segment.
This batch of auctioned items was different from before; they could be considered treasures.
It began with a shield that had been blessed by a Pope from the Cult of Sigmar's history within the Imperium of Man.
Sigmar, as the founder of the Imperium of Man, abdicated after ruling the country for fifty years and disappeared without a trace.
Subsequently, his loyal subjects believed Sigmar had become a god and founded a cult named after him, the Cult of Sigmar, which fanatically worshipped him.
Sigmar is the patron god of the Empire and the god of war for humans. Due to the efficacy of his faith and the tireless preaching of his Battle Priests, the faith of Sigmar spread rapidly.
Today, the worship of Sigmar has become an important part of Imperial society. Almost every city, town, or village within the Empire has a dedicated portion of wealth and land to establish and maintain Sigmarite churches.
Its influence is so great that it holds a full three votes in the Imperium of Man's Elector Counts system: the Pope of the Cult of Sigmar, and two High Lectors—the Pope's right and left hands each hold a vote.
Besides their political status, these individuals are true powerhouses. Sigmar's divine power surges within them; his holy power is their prayer, allowing them to perform extraordinary miracles in the name of their founding god, as long as their faith in him remains strong.
Sigmar's priests can unleash the fury of the Skullsplitter Warhammers to slay creatures of darkness such as demons and undead, or even the Wild Spirits revered by Forest Elves, or call upon the god to protect the Imperium of Man's warriors in battle to enhance their defenses, or even rescue a severely wounded warrior from the brink of death, miraculously healing all wounds.
A shield blessed by the Pope, the leader of the Cult of Sigmar, can rival exquisite equipment in quality.
The atmosphere in the venue became lively this time. Both humans and Dwarves bid enthusiastically. Compared to weapons, defensive gear is more precious.
In many cases, a weapon can help you kill enemies in battle, but defensive gear helps you survive.
The price of the shield soared to five thousand gold coins, and this was even with the blessing's effectiveness having somewhat diminished over time.
"Our Sons of the Mountains' runes don't have that problem. Even if the stone can't withstand the erosion of wind and sand, they will still shine like new!" Captain Grenson said excitedly.
Then came several more auctions of human noble heirloom-level items. Gromril watched with great interest. Although he didn't bid, he gained a certain understanding of high-quality human equipment through his observations and the auctioneer's introductions, greatly expanding his knowledge.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the next batch of items has been sent by a very important person!" The auctioneer waved his hand, and a new row of trays covered with red cloth was brought onto the stage.
The dwarf auctioneer built suspense, which is also a way to attract the audience's attention.
"Tell us, old friend! Otherwise, how can we make a move!"
"A big shot? Don't tell me it's that Elector Counts holder from Mootland? Now *that* would truly be a 'big' shot!"
The person who said this had a loud voice. Hearing his remark, everyone in the hall, except for the customers from the Imperium of Man, burst into boisterous laughter, especially the dwarf clansmen, who laughed the heartiest.
Balin introduced at the appropriate moment: "Our human friends' Emperor is elected by ticket-holders with Elector Counts, including ten Elector Counts with territories, three from the Cult of Sigmar, and the Pope of the northern Ulrician cult. And of course, of course, the Halflings of Mootland! A total of fifteen votes."
At this point, the Dwarves in the private room also burst into laughter, and Balin joined them after he finished speaking.
"Halflings? Those chefs who aren't even as tall as us, how do they have voting rights?" Brim asked.
"That goes back over a thousand years," Balin replied, "when the human Emperor was named Ludwig, and his nickname was 'the Fat'."
Hearing this, the clansmen laughed again. A nickname like 'the Fat' for a human Emperor was enough to show how mediocre he and his reign were.
"Ludwig was an out-and-out incompetent ruler, whose biggest characteristic was his gluttony, which is where his nickname came from. He even appointed a Halfling chef as an Elector Counts, simply because that Halfling's cooking was delicious!
And because of a tiny bit of bribery, he also gave the most fertile lands of Stirland and Averland to the Halflings, allowing them to establish a Halfling autonomous region, which is Mootland."
After hearing Balin's introduction, the Dwarves' beards quivered with laughter. They had complex feelings for their human friends.
When they first met, the Mountains Kingdom was still strong, while humans were just wild barbarian tribes.
The nascent Imperium of Man relied on the Dwarves' protection, learning technology and knowledge from their dwarf teachers like eager students.
However, as time passed, the Imperium of Man developed faster and faster, while the Dwarves, constrained by their own male-to-female ratio and assaulted by Greenskins and Skaven from outside, saw their national power decline daily.
If not for Gromril's arrival, the Mountains Kingdom would have gradually entered its twilight. Now the relationship between Dwarves and humans has somewhat reversed; sometimes the Mountains Kingdom needs food and even military support from humans.
This is unacceptable for a proud race like the Dwarves. For this reason, some clansmen, once they grasp a blemish of the Imperium of Man, constantly mock it to achieve a moral victory.
"All right, all right, my friends, I'll tell you the truth: these were sent by Grand Prince William III of Reikland. Praise this brave friend; he defeated a detached force of Gulu's invasion of Altdorf, and these are his spoils of war," the auctioneer announced loudly.
"What is the Golden Barrel Merchant Guild doing?"
"Spoils of war? What valuable things could those mushroom-like creatures have? You don't intend to take them to the battlefield, do you?"
The audience below shouted, expressing their confusion.
"Calm down, my friends!" The auctioneer raised a hand to quiet them.
"You all know the reputation of our Golden Barrel Merchant Guild. How could we bring some scrap to entertain you? These items were also the Greenskins' spoils of war before they became Prince William's spoils of war."
Hearing this, the people below quieted down and began to wait for this round of bidding to begin.
"What does that mean?" Gromril was a bit confused; he asked Tomi.
"I'll venture a guess," Tomi began, uncertainly.
"Perhaps some nobles were in a hurry to escape and didn't have time to take too many valuables, and those things fell into the hands of the Greenskins. After the Greenskins were defeated, how to deal with the spoils became a problem, after all, human nobles, like us, are all related. Maybe not wanting to suffer too great a loss, Prince William sent the items for auction."
"Oh, so nobles who want to buy back their own treasures come here to participate in the auction, and William III saves face and substance. What a good idea!"
Gromril knew that historically, William III would replace the foolish Dieter IV as the new Emperor of the Imperium of Man. His family would hold the throne for a hundred years, until the last Human hammer-wielder, Karl-Franz.
The atmosphere of the following auction completely changed from the previous tension. The auctioneer only announced the names of the items without much introduction. "A precious watch," "A high-grade breastplate," and so on, appeared one after another. At the same time, he struck the gavel very quickly, as if afraid someone would raise the price.
For this kind of ready-made business, the Golden Barrel Merchant Guild did not intend to offend a large number of Human nobles for a little more commission.
Many of the bidders below bought items directly at the starting price, and a few items of clear value only had two or three price increases. The accents of the bidders indicated they were not from the Empire.
Seeing that the bidders, the auction house, and the item providers had reached a tacit understanding, Gromril immediately lost interest. He lay on the sofa and began to doze off. The high-intensity mental work of these days had made him extremely tired.
Suddenly, he found a prompt message appeared in the system. Gromril sat up abruptly. The Artifact Vault system, which had been dormant since his transmigration, actually reacted!
At the same time, the auctioneer's voice rang out, "A rare meteorite iron bar! Starting price fifty gold coins!" Looking at the item description in his hand, the auctioneer shook his head secretly, "What is all this?!" However, he didn't really resist this kind of job that didn't require much thought and offered a commission just by reading from a script.
"Fifty gold coins once! Fifty gold coins twice!" The auctioneer was a bit surprised. "Why does no one want this one? Could it be that the family who originally owned it died out? But it's not surprising for a family to die out if they use an iron bar as a family heirloom."
"Quick! Help me bid!" Gromril yelled at Tomi, afraid his voice would be recognized and cause complications.
"Fifty!" Tomi didn't ask any questions; he immediately spoke up.
"This thing looks a bit like our dwarf product," the auctioneer thought to himself, but he didn't say much as usual. He scanned the hall and, finding no one else interested, directly struck the gavel.
Soon, there was a knock on the door of the private room. Tomi paid for the item and then came to Gromril with a tray.
"Cousin, do you seem to recognize this thing? What is it for?" Tomi asked curiously, looking at the object.
The other Dwarves in the room also gathered around. They passed around the slightly bent meteorite iron bar, which seemed to have been contaminated by greenskins, but even the long-lived and well-informed Eternal Hammer Guards couldn't discern anything special about it.
"Congratulations, Host, you have obtained the left half of the Tongs!" The system popped up this prompt the moment Gromril took the iron bar.
"Nothing, I just found it a bit interesting!" Gromril replied perfunctorily; he didn't want to leak any information.
These are Thurni's Rune Smith Tongs, one of the Rune Smith God's two most famous artifacts.
He guided the first generation of Rune Smiths to use tongs as a tool, allowing them to effortlessly forge the most powerful Rune weapons.
For some unknown reason, this divine artifact was lost in the mortal world. It is a prerequisite for performing the ultimate Ritual of Toolni, and it also possesses the ability to channel the Winds of Magic, much like the anvil of doom, thus accelerating the cooldown speed after Rune usage.
However, unlike the anvil of doom's characteristic of reducing enemy spellcasting ability, these Rune Tongs can spread the channeled Winds of Magic to surrounding allies, enhancing their attack power and armor-piercing capabilities.
Gromril was very happy with this unexpected surprise. Although he didn't have the other half of the tongs, and this was just an ordinary iron bar, it undoubtedly gave him a good start on his journey to recover the divine artifact.
Gromril recalled that this item was originally in the Misty Mountain, where Gulu's Waaagh also originated. It was very likely that a greenskin brought it all the way to Reikland and it was eventually captured by William III's forces.
They felt this object was extraordinary but didn't know its specific function, so they sent it to auction, and it fell into his hands.
Although he knew that such a stroke of luck was unlikely to happen again, Gromril still listened attentively to the rest of the auction.
"Ladies and gentlemen, next is our grand finale item. I believe many of you here came for this!" The auctioneer had been speaking all evening and was a bit tired, but he still forced himself to perk up.
"A Dragon Egg, a real Dragon egg, from the Athel Loren Forest!" Saying this, the auctioneer pulled off the red cloth covering the item, revealing a huge egg.
Gromril knew that this egg was undoubtedly from a Forest Dragon. They are giant beasts that live in dense forests and possess poisonous breath.
Like all Dragons, they have wings on their backs, can fly, and can terrify any faint-hearted enemy.
Before the customers below could speak, the auctioneer preemptively answered their unspoken question, "Our Golden Barrel Merchant Guild guarantees with a thousand years of reputation that this is a living egg!"
"Starting price three thousand gold coins, each bid must not be less than one hundred!" The auctioneer kicked off the bidding.
"Four thousand!"
"Five thousand!"
The rapidly soaring price soon eliminated competitors with insufficient financial resources. The remaining people were probably those with Dragon-taming abilities.
If properly tamed, a Dragon's lifespan could protect a family for five to ten generations without a problem!
"Five thousand five hundred!"
"Five thousand six hundred!"
The rate of price increase slowed down, and the auctioneer began to try to further stir up the atmosphere. Just then, a loud "Boom!" echoed!
The roof of the underground auction hall was directly blown open. Amidst a shower of sand and rocks, the guests present were stunned for a moment before reacting and starting to hide everywhere.
Gromril, in the private room on the rock wall, was not greatly affected by this wave of attack. He looked up, only to horrifyingly discover that he couldn't see the moon in the sky!
The sky was full of winged creatures. Most prominent were a giant Forest Dragon and several giant eagles. Their outstretched wings obscured the moonlight.
"Dare to offend the Athel Loren Forest, Dwarvess, I will make you pay the price!"
"Patience, Alarielle, my sister, curb your desire for slaughter!"
Two voices rang out in the night sky, one cold, one gentle.
"Twilight Sisters!" Gromril muttered to himself.
They are the chief handmaidens of the Wood Elves Queen Ariel, who is also an avatar of the Elven Mother Goddess Isha. They ride the great Forest Dragon Ceithin-Har to fight for their Queen.
Looking at the sky full of Falcon Riders, the Wood Elves riding on giant eagles, whether they were Waywatchers or Woodland Lords, and the incredibly oppressive Forest Dragons, the humans and dwarves in the ruins of the auction house dared not move.
They were being targeted by arrows, and many of them weren't even wearing armor. If those sisters gave the order, at least half of them would report to the gods they worshipped.
"Let's go, Sister. Soon the bearded ones' army will arrive, and we have more cunning foes. Athel Loren's precious strength shouldn't be wasted here!" A lively and gentle voice rang out in the sky.
Hearing this, the people below all breathed a sigh of relief. Gromril guessed this was Naestra, who represented the gentle side of nature.
At the same time, Gromril vaguely felt the ground beneath his feet tremble slightly. He believed this should be the Hornburg's defenders reacting, a resonance caused by countless iron boots treading the ground in a synchronized pace.
Presumably, with their high vantage point, the Wood Elves noticed the arrival of the dwarf forces and began to adjust their formation, preparing to withdraw.
"Leave them a farewell gift! Let these short-lived wretches learn a lesson!" A chilling voice once again echoed through the night sky.
"Kurnous Volley!" With a sharp shout, a "thwack!" sounded as hundreds of bowstrings twanged as one, and a sky full of arrows rained down!
Captain Grenson held the middle of his long hammer with both hands, swinging it like a windmill, easily deflecting the stray arrows aimed at Gromril.
Gromril and his group were unharmed, but the humans and dwarves in the field were not so lucky. Amidst cries of agony, the Wood Elf air force leisurely departed.
"Quick, I am Gromril-az Thorson, Chosen of the Goddess! Those who can move, follow me to rescue the wounded!" Gromril's voice rang out.
Dozens of people stood up. They were still wearing armor when they came to the auction, and by covering their heads, they only sustained some scrapes from the volley of arrows, but many more still lay on the ground twitching.
Every Elf is a born marksman, let alone these selected air force warriors? They can accurately hit fast-moving targets from fast-flying mounts.
Hitting moving targets while moving themselves is not a problem, but hovering in the air and hitting stationary targets lying on the ground is truly just target practice!
Gromril was stunned. This was the first time he had seen such a tragic sight since his transmigration. Although he knew there would be even more gruesome scenes in the future, he still found it difficult to accept.
Gromril unhesitatingly poured all his Revival Points into the healing option of the Valaya Ritual. These points came from his contributions to spreading the Mother Goddess's faith along the way.
He could not yet stand by and watch his current and former compatriots lose their lives when he had the ability to change the situation.
Lord Arik Luferson was carried by two Shieldbearers. What he and his troops saw upon entering the merchant guild was a sky full of pale green light dots.
The seriously wounded had their injuries stabilized, while the lightly wounded had their bleeding stopped and were healed directly by the divine grace.
"Ancestor Goddess above!" Witnessing such a miracle firsthand, many dwarves from the Black Mountains shed tears.
Compared to their clansmen residing in the World's Edge Mountains, their time bathed in the grace of the Ancestor Gods was even shorter.
These dwarves' strengthened faith brought new Revival Points, and Gromril decisively increased the infusion until the points were exhausted.
"I, Arik Luferson, King of the Black Mountains, Lord of Karak-Heorn! Under the witness of the Mother Goddess, in the name of the past kings of Karak-Heorn, I swear that the hatred for the Pointy-ears attacking the merchant guild, harming our clansmen, and plundering our wealth shall be settled!"
He widened his eyes, used the battle-axe in his palm to cut his finger, and with his own blood, he wrote in the book of grudges of the fortress while reciting each word aloud!
After arranging the treatment of the wounded and related aftermath, Arik's Shieldbearers knelt down, and he jumped from their shields to the ground.
Shieldbearers are powerful warriors specially selected to serve dwarf Lords. They raise their shields to form a combat platform.
This style is more common in the Mountains to the east, as the mountain roads here are rugged and heavy objects are difficult to transport, making platforms that can be assembled anywhere, anytime more convenient.
In contrast, the Lords and patriarchs of the World's Edge Mountains prefer to fight on Oathstones, which are runic stones that record a clan's glory or a Lord's lineage and important events.
These stones are symbols of their homeland and a mark of the dwarf Karaks' self-expression.
As the saying goes, standing high allows one to see far. Standing on an artificially created height allows dwarf Lords to better observe the battle, command operations, and also allows warriors to see their Lord, boosting morale and strengthening confidence.
For powerful dwarf Lords, this also makes it easier for them to duel enemy Lords, avoiding being at a disadvantage due to their shorter stature.
These platforms first appeared in the dwarf Karaks of the south, and later spread to other regions.
Protected by Gromril's Ritual, apart from a dozen unlucky individuals who were shot in vital areas and died instantly, all the others survived.
The previously lightly wounded had already gone to the taverns, joyously proclaiming the Mother Goddess's miracles after their narrow escape, while the seriously wounded still needed treatment.
"I can hardly express my gratitude to the Mother Goddess and to you! Please accept these." Lord Arik said, taking a bag from a nearby attendant and respectfully handing it to Gromril with both hands.
Gromril opened it to see that the bag contained a heavy hundred Oath Gold.
"I cannot accept this! The Mother Goddess is willing to bestow divine grace to save Her children and Her children's allies; Her compassion asks for no reward!" Gromril sternly refused.
"Mother Goddess above! He truly is devout!"
"Praise the great Chosen of the Goddess!"
Refusing easily obtainable wealth is undoubtedly an excellent quality for dwarves, a race that inherently loves gold. The surrounding clansmen cheered at the sight. Gromril noticed that the growth of Revival Points had entered another peak.
"Well, we are all incredibly grateful that She bestows divine grace upon Her children without seeking reward, but this is a token of appreciation from the human allies She saved as well!" Arik, being a Lord of a city, quickly thought of a new reason.
"Then why don't you use this money to repair the Mother Goddess's shrine, or use it as funds for the Mother Goddess's priests here, that would also be good!" Gromril declined again, and the cheers of the clansmen grew even louder.
Seeing Gromril push the money bag back again, Lord Arik Luferson became anxious. This seemed to have become a competition to determine if he was pious enough. He didn't want to lose face in front of his clansmen.
"You don't need to worry about the Mother Goddess Temple in Karak-Heorn. My mother serves as the High Priestess here. If you have time, you can visit and offer suggestions for improvement," Arik first responded to Gromril's proposal.
"This small sum of money will be our offering to the Mother Goddess. We ask you to purchase it on our behalf and convey the respect of all our compatriots in Hornburg to Her!" Arik continued.
Seeing that the conversation had reached this point, Gromril could no longer politely refuse, so he simply accepted the money bag and put it into his bosom.
The clansmen present began to loudly praise Lord Arik's generosity and piety. From his expression, he was still a young man, and he seemed quite pleased by this.
Since Arik also had to arrange for the reconstruction of the merchant guild and the subsequent revenge operation, Gromril did not stay long. He also wanted to put the valuable Oath Gold and the left half of the pincers back into the safe as soon as possible.
Sitting on the bed in the guest room, Gromril let out a long breath. He touched his back, where his undershirt beneath his robe had just been soaked with cold sweat, and it now felt uncomfortably cool.
Gromril himself was not accustomed to wearing heavy armor; it was a burden for both him and his rock ram. If the Twilight Sisters had concentrated their firepower on him just now, he would surely not have survived.
This sudden blow made Gromril tense up again. A victory and newly acquired equipment had made him a bit complacent. This time, he realized that there was still a significant gap between him and the truly strong individuals in the world.
Recalling Lord Arik's equipment from earlier, Gromril shook his head. The axe was engraved with a master-level Rune of Vengeance and two matching enhanced ordinary Runes, undoubtedly of legendary quality.
The shield he stood upon was also no ordinary item; it was the shield used by Kurgaz, the first Lord who slew the Dragon occupying the Black Mountains and established Hornburg.
That Ancestor Kurgaz was very tall, and his shield was too large for an average dwarf to use, so it was used as a platform.
Thinking that Arik, despite his young age, already possessed the strength to contend with most strong individuals thanks to this legendary equipment, Gromril's desire to retrieve the artifact became even more urgent.
Early the next morning, Gromril was awakened by a knock on the door. He grumbled as he stood up, cursing the fellow who had woken him from a beautiful dream of assembling a set of legendary cloak, plate armor, and lining, letting Ironhide hack away, then wearing ten legendary rings and blasting Archaon to dust with a round of Runes.
Balin led several dwarves in. From their attire, they appeared to be high-ranking clansmen.
"What is this again?" Gromril's heart skipped a beat.
Fortunately, the clansmen of the Black Mountains were much more traditional than the dwarves of Zhufbar, the Engineer City. They wanted nothing but for Gromril to accept bag after bag of Oath Gold.
These nobles had witnessed Lord Arik's offering of gold yesterday and decided to follow suit.
After another round of back and forth, Gromril finally decided to accept only one coin from each as a token of their sincerity, and only then did these dwarves reluctantly disperse.
"It truly goes with the saying, 'Life is in movement, and money is in flow!'" Gromril exclaimed, looking at the Oath Gold in his hand, which was dozens of coins more than when he left Everpeak.
After breakfast, two more dwarves brought news: Arik's mother, Queen Mother Kairi, invited Gromril to the Goddess's Temple for a discussion.
Gromril had no objection. He arranged for Tomi to contact the human interested in firearms whom he had noticed at the auction, then left.
Due to Hornburg's large size, the Temple here was much more magnificent than those in the outposts he had passed through earlier. Gromril chatted with the kind dwarf noblewoman for an entire morning. Through this conversation, he finally understood why Lord Arik was so conservative and respected tradition.
This elder female's faith in the Ancestor Gods reached a fervent level. After the Mother Goddess manifested, her reaction even became somewhat extreme.
However, in Gromril's view, everything has its pros and cons. At least at the current stage, this female could effectively spread the Mother Goddess's faith in Hornburg, contributing to the growth of his Revival Points.
Seeing his points surpass the five hundred mark again, Gromril decisively performed a ritual for Queen Mother Kairi, providing her with a boost of energy, when she, along with all the prominent dwarf females of Karak-Heorn, worshipped the Mother Goddess with him.
Watching her, in front of all the noble females of Hornburg, tremble and then, revitalized, sing praises of the Mother Goddess's grace, Gromril knew that those five hundred Revival Points were well spent!
dwarf males usually exchange information in taverns, and dwarf females naturally have their own places to go.
Gromril returned to his room after lunch, letting the divine grace continue to spread for a while. He began to anticipate the subsequent growth of Revival Points.
"Cousin, I found that human!" Tomi brought back the news just as Gromril woke from his afternoon nap.
"As you instructed, I didn't discuss business directly with him, but instead arranged to have dinner with him at the Black Stone Tavern! Are you going to go yourself?" Tomi asked cheerfully. As Gromril displayed divine grace, the dwarves who came with him also felt honored.
"Yes, I plan to go," Gromril said calmly. He had gradually adapted to his relatively high status, and his speech had somewhat taken on a leader's style.
"Our Sons of the Mountains population is still too small. I plan to find some promising humans and try to reach trade or military agreements with them. This will greatly help my future plans!" Gromril painted a grand vision for Tomi.
Gromril still very much hoped to recruit Tomi. He needed a relatively flexible fellow to handle trade and diplomacy. On one hand, Tomi had demonstrated his abilities along the way, and on the other hand, he was his aunt's son, absolutely reliable on the issue of loyalty.
As dusk approached, Gromril took out the prepared false beard and placed it under his chin, then put on yesterday's hooded cloak.
He did not want his clansmen to discover that the Chosen of the Goddess, who had been proclaiming the Mother Goddess's grace during the day, was dealing in arms at night.
Gromril, with Tomi and two Eternal Hammer Guards, slipped out of the inn through the back door. They followed the less crowded path that Tomi had scouted in advance, arriving at the Black Stone Tavern in the human settlement on the outskirts of the city.
"This way!" Tomi led Gromril to the back door of the tavern.
"This is a notorious no-man's-land. Half of all the illicit deals in Karak-Heorn are finalized here!" Tomi said as he knocked on the door.
"Don't worry, here it comes!" A muffled voice rang out. The owner of the voice pulled open the door, and Gromril was surprised to see two hairy legs appear before him!
"Ogre!?" Gromril looked up to see a burly fellow over three meters tall. Gromril and his clansmen could barely reach his knees even on their tiptoes.
"What's with all the fuss, young'un? Hmph, a drinking Bazak doesn't eat dwarf. Your meat is too tough!"
Gromril knew the Ogre race; they were also created by the Old Ones. The Old Ones first created the Lizardmen to help them set up and develop environments, but Lizardmen had no reproductive capacity, resembling biochemical robots more than living beings.
The next race the Old Ones created were the Elves, but Elves reproduced too slowly and were too weak to survive long wars. Then came the dwarfs, but they couldn't use magic and were too stubborn and inflexible to adapt to the cunning of demons in time. After that, They created humans, but humans were too easily corrupted.
Finally, They created the Ogres. These hulking fellows seemed to possess all the functions the Old Ones desired:
They were as adaptable as humans, reproduced quickly, could survive in the harshest environments, were resistant to Chaos corruption, lived long, were quite intelligent, capable of using machinery and technology, and could eat almost anything, making them easy to maintain. However, their innate hunger was difficult to suppress.
Hunger drove them to invade Cathay, which angered the Dragon Emperor, Lord of Cathay. This immortal Dragon God, along with his Directors of Astronomy, pulled a giant meteorite from space and crashed it into the center of the Ogre lands.
The massive explosion caused by this meteorite wiped out two-thirds of the Ogre population. The meteorite plunged directly into the earth's core, turning the Ogre lands into a scorched wasteland.
But that wasn't all; the giant meteorite crater that remained from the impact was a living entity! The Ogres revered it as a god, calling it the great maw, and its priests were known as Butchers.
The arrival of the great maw made the Ogres' inherent hunger even harder to suppress, but even if they were foolish, they wouldn't try to go east again; another world-shattering explosion was no joke.
Therefore, the Ogres went west, eventually arriving at the Mountains of Mourn. After driving all the Dragon Ogres and Beastmen who originally lived there into the Chaos Wastes, the Ogres established their so-called Ogre Kingdoms there.
As various tribes continuously expanded, Ogres learned the meaning of diplomacy. Later, some tribes finally discovered that treating the smaller races amicably brought far greater long-term benefits than simply eating them.
From then on, Ogre mercenaries spread across the world, as long as the price was high enough or the enemy was tasty enough. The Ogre Bazak before them should have arrived at Hornburg in the same way.
"Which room?" The Ogre's voice rumbled above Gromril's head.
"Number Six! Private room number six, with a reservation," Tomi replied.
"Passcode?"
"River Troll Witch!"
"Enter." With that, the Ogre stepped aside, clearing a path. The four dwarfs tightened their hoods and quickly entered the tavern.
Gromril saw the hall filled with reveling drinkers and several alluring waitresses moving among them. Seeing human women for the first time since his transmigration, Gromril couldn't help but stare blankly.
"Upstairs!" Tomi said, turning back when he saw Gromril pause.
"Oh, oh, oh!" Gromril shook his head and quickly ran a few steps to follow.
"What's so good about those bean sprouts? They're not as full-figured as our female kin…" Gromril heard the two Longbeard Elders muttering behind him.
"My employer and I are here for our appointment!" Tomi pushed open the door and stepped aside. Gromril didn't stand on ceremony, sitting directly in the seat facing the door. Tomi pulled up the chair next to him and sat down, while the two Eternal Hammers stood behind them.
Gromril saw four humans on the opposite side, seated in the same arrangement as his group. He sat opposite the tall knight he had seen at yesterday's auction.
"Marcus, tell them to serve the food!" The knight instructed the man beside him.
"Yes, my Lord!" Marcus cupped his hands and went downstairs to hurry the food.
"Please!"
"Please!"
Gromril and the knight before him clinked glasses.
"You may call me Leiren, Elder. I come from the Border Princes!" The knight introduced himself.
"I heard you have a batch of firearms looking for a buyer, is that correct?"
"Indeed. I was at yesterday's auction too. I saw you bid several times without success."
The two began a round of negotiation. Sir Leiren tried to gain the upper hand in the transaction, but Gromril didn't show weakness; he pointed out Leiren's needs.
"What goods do you have?" Leiren propped his chin on his hands, scrutinizing Gromril, as if trying to see through his identity and strength hidden beneath his hood.
"That depends on what you want and what you can afford! If you can pay the price, I can get things that Lord Arik can't. But from what I see, you can probably only afford Thunderers!"
Gromril exaggerated, knowing that Sir Leiren's wallet wasn't bulging, so he spoke boldly and without reservation.
"Alright, then let's talk about these Thunderers!" Leiren didn't continue to be stubborn; everyone's time was precious.
"Friend, how much does one of these guns cost?" Leiren asked, getting straight to the point.
"Fifty gold coins each!" Gromril promptly quoted a market price.
"Fifty gold coins each? Is the barrel made of meteorite iron or is the stock made of meteorite iron?" Sir Leiren began to haggle.
"Look, where can you even find guns now? These are Zhufbar guns! If you think it's expensive, I think it's expensive too!" Gromril complained.
"Give me one!" Since he was already here, Sir Leiren decided to inspect the goods first. Even if he didn't buy, it wouldn't be a wasted trip.
"Alright, how about this one?" Gromril said, taking a sample gun from Tomi's hand and passing it across the table to Leiren.
"This gun, is it guaranteed to fire?" Leiren asked, toying with the item in his hand.
"I run an arms shop. Would I sell you a dud?" Gromril's lips curved upwards into a smile upon hearing this.
"I asked if this gun is guaranteed to fire?" Leiren raised his voice slightly.
"Are you intentionally trying to cause trouble? I'm just asking if you want it or not!" Gromril felt a bit of anger rise due to Leiren's haggling tactics, and he also raised his voice.
"If this gun fires, of course I want it, but what if it doesn't fire?" Leiren continued.
"Hmph, if it doesn't fire, I'll break it myself. Satisfied?" Gromril said indifferently.
"Want to try?"
"No problem!" Gromril pushed a round of ammunition across.
Only a "Bang!" was heard.
Gromril's heart skipped a beat, and Leiren, who was reloading his musket, also looked up. It was Marcus, leading two servants, who had entered.
The servants brought in two wooden platters piled high with roast meat and a barrel of ale. Seeing the gun in Leiren's hand and the gunpowder-scented atmosphere in the private room, the two servants were a little nervous.
"Bring a test sample for our human friend!" Gromril ordered. Tomi acknowledged and pulled out a steel plate from his bag.
"Standard issue plate armor steel!" Gromril flicked the steel plate with his middle finger, and it emitted a dull "thud!" sound. Then Gromril handed it to Leiren.
"Hmm, it's indeed good steel!" Leiren bent it a little and had the guard behind him hang the steel plate on the wall of the private room.
"Marcus, you try it!" Saying this, he handed the loaded Thunderer to the human who had just returned.
By the light of the oil lamp in the room, Gromril saw that the human was dressed in hunting attire, likely a sharpshooter from a hunter background.
Marcus took the gun, made a slight adjustment, raised his hand, narrowed his eyes, and as he pulled the trigger, there was a "bang!" and the bullet hit the steel plate squarely.
The human guard removed the steel plate and handed it back to Leiren. Looking at the bullet hole, Marcus and Leiren nodded slightly to each other.
"Come, come! Let's eat and talk. The roast meat won't taste as good if it gets cold!" With that, Leiren made a welcoming gesture, and the guards of both parties also sat down.
Gromril agreed with this. Business could be discussed anytime, but meals should not be missed.
After three rounds of drinks, they returned to the main topic.
"Respected Elder, you are aware of my situation. The Border Princes is truly not a prosperous place," Sir Leiren began.
"I am aware of that," Gromril nodded and said. "That place is very complex, both politically and environmentally. It can be considered a gold miner's paradise." Gromril interjected, but he didn't fully agree with the sentiment.
"This vast wilderness has numerous small human kingdoms, established by ambitious adventurers seeking to carve out their own influence. However, many times, these adventurers are often political or religious refugees from places like the Empire, Bretonnia, and Kislev," Leiren added by way of explanation.
"I have established a territory called Skalitz, with about a thousand people under my command," Leiren began to speak about himself.
"That's quite impressive. Should I call you Grand Duke Leiren?" Gromril joked.
He knew that the local rulers who held sovereignty over these lands were collectively known as Border Princes, and the land itself was named after them.
Each Prince would rule a small kingdom, which would have an overly exaggerated ducal title, but in more civilized regions like Bretonnia, this kingdom would often barely qualify as a knight's fiefdom.
Considering that the largest settlements in the region would only be considered small towns elsewhere in the Old World, Sir Leiren's strength in this area was indeed that of a local magnate.
"It's just a small area, not enough to boast about in the face of the vast Mountains," Sir Leiren said modestly, which made a good impression on Gromril, because according to descriptions from his compatriots, most Border Princes were rather conceited individuals.
"The Border Princes is full of dangers. Wars, plagues, and famines have killed many inhabitants even before our time. However, that's not all," Sir Leiren said, his eyes a little red.
"In that place, there is almost no peace between the Border Princes! Their wars are very intense, because the stakes are small. A Prince who loses his duchy might gain a new one after a few lucky battles or a fortunate assassination," Leiren said, gnawing on a piece of steak.
"Therefore, many lords there believe that it is worth any cost to seize more power or money. In this region, cautious stalemates and careful peace are very rare. This makes life here exhilarating and extremely turbulent."
Among humans, Leiren must have been quite articulate, delivering a long speech with sound reasoning.
"But this is for those in power. For the common people, there is only endless suffering! However, I want to change all of this!" Sir Leiren's tone became impassioned.
Gromril noticed that his several retainers were very much in agreement with their lord's ideas, and their expressions were not the usual apathy, but rather a gleam of conviction.
"So? That doesn't change the fact that our Thunderers are in very high demand right now!" Gromril continued to play the role of a good merchant.
"Here, Karak-Heorn, as long as Lord Arik is in charge, there will be no firearms sold," Gromril began his analysis.
"Let me think, other places you could go include Karak-Copper Mountain Hold, but the firearms produced there might not even be enough for their own use."
"Who says we must buy your dwarf firearms?" Marcus, the hunter sitting next to Sir Leiren, exclaimed.
"I heard Nuln is the City of Guns and Fire, and it's only separated from our Skalitz territory by Black Fire Pass!"
"Marcus, shut up!" Seeing that his retainer was about to continue, Sir Leiren stopped him.
"This brave warrior is right, but Nuln is too busy saving itself right now," Gromril took a sip of beer to moisten his throat.
"Ever since that pig Dieter IV abandoned his defenses and retreated, the mighty city of Nuln has been wantonly ravaged by the Greenskin Waaagh. To call it a ruin now would be an understatement, considering the erosion they left behind!" Gromril recounted the news he knew.
"When our caravan set out, a team of artisans also departed from Everpeak to help Nuln rebuild. The Gunnery School optimistically estimates it will take two or three years to resume production, and to have surplus production for export beyond the Empire's needs will likely take five years or more!"
Listening to these words, Marcus opened his mouth, but in the end, could say nothing.
"As you know, although firearms are more expensive, with just one or two months of training, even a former farmer can become a qualified gunner. But if you want to train archers, without three to five years, they'll only end up shooting arrows into their own feet!" Gromril said gruffly, imitating the tone of the Elders.
This statement had been proven by countless people, and the human opposite him could not refute it.
"Firearms also perform much better against heavily armored units than bows and arrows. While there aren't many people in your area who can afford plate armor, there are quite a few monsters in that wild land!"
When Gromril mentioned monsters, the four humans all nodded in unison, clearly having had similar terrifying experiences.
"As far as I know, the Border Princes don't have more monsters than any other region of the Old World, but the lack of strong government makes the monsters bolder, so it seems like there are more," Gromril continued, explaining that he had some understanding of the area due to the Border Princes' proximity to the World's Edge Mountains.
"Besides the Greenskins pouring out of the Badlands, these forests are full of filthy hoofed creatures, and I've even heard that those rats who only dare to move in the sewers elsewhere can strut around in the Border Princes," Gromril continued, ignoring the grim expressions of Leiren and his companions.
"That's indeed the case. After my stronghold was attacked by Minotaurs, I realized I needed to upgrade my ranged firepower," Knight Leiren replied.
"Those guys, not only are they naturally covered in thick fur, but they also somehow got some crude armor to hang on themselves. My archers' arrows were practically turning them into porcupines, and those beasts were still swinging their axes and fighting fiercely!" Leiren couldn't help but clench his fists at the mention of the Minotaurs.
"If Marcus hadn't been an excellent archer, repeatedly hitting their eyes, throats, and other vital points, and if I didn't have a small squad of Sunstone Knights who could hold the line head-on, my people might have already suffered."
"Sunstone Knights?" Gromril repeated, scrutinizing the tall human in front of him, but he didn't press for details; everyone has their secrets.
Gromril knew a little about the Sunstone Knights, a highly reputable group of wealthy knights. In the game, they dealt more damage than Reiksguard and could inflict fire damage.
The Order of the Sunstone Knights is a small but exceptionally renowned elite knightly order, and one of the most famous and highly respected knightly orders to date. It is also the wealthiest knightly order in the Empire.
They worship the War Goddess Myrmidia, and influenced by her, the small but elite Sunstone Knights are fervent in studying war technology and strategy, and they value personal ability and achievement above all else, even more than noble birth.
The resource-rich knightly order quickly attracted various military geniuses to its banner during its rise. Every knight member also made mastering the art of war their primary goal, traveling alone across the Old World, seeking battles and learning, regardless of scale.
Any army with even one Sunstone Knight in its leadership is enough to secure victory through strategy before the clash of weapons.
Members of the Order of the Sunstone Knights wear exquisitely crafted, luxurious plate armor made of finely worked brass, with a bright black main color, gold trim, and a polished, mirror-like shield depicting a burning sunstone.
Thinking of this, Gromril understood more about Knight Leiren's extraordinary nature. In his opinion, with the help of the Sunstone Knights and his recognition of the importance of firearms, Leiren was very likely to make a name for himself in the chaotic Border Princes.
If this land, adjacent to the Mountains Kingdom, could have a powerful lord who was friendly with the Dwarf race, it would undoubtedly greatly assist the revival of the Mountains and also be a significant boost to his own Revival Point growth.
Gromril made up his mind to offer Leiren some help, but he had to wait for the knight in front of him to speak first.
"Elder, we've talked so much just now. I am indeed very satisfied with the power of your firearms, but can you lower the price a little?" Leiren spoke up, seeing that the two plates of roast meat were almost reduced to bones after being attacked by eight people.
"I think I can indeed make some concessions, and I can even represent my clan and sign some agreements with you!" Gromril drank the beer in his cup, wiped his fake beard, and said.
"How many do you need?" he then asked Leiren.
"Hmm, thirty? I think with my current forces, forming half a squad of musketeers might be enough," Leiren deliberated.
"Alright then, how about a flat price of one thousand gold coins? I'll include 50 rounds of ammunition with each gun," Gromril made a significant concession, which was basically his cost price.
"Oh, that's, that's truly wonderful! Thank you so much!" Leiren was overjoyed by the discount Gromril offered. Getting a discount from a gold-loving race like the Dwarf race was truly not easy.
"If you are willing, all the supplies your territory needs for construction and development can be ordered from my clan's trading company. According to the plan, the High King's caravan will pass through Karak-Heorn again on its return journey in four months. If you place an order then, the goods will be delivered by this time next year," Gromril promoted follow-up services.
"What kind of supplies can your clan provide? Stone? Or steel?" Leiren signaled his attendant to take out paper and pen to make a note.
"I come from, well, never mind, you probably wouldn't know anyway, the Drazklad Clan," Gromril, like every dwarf, raised his head proudly when mentioning his clan name.
Leiren and the others indeed showed confused expressions. dwarf language vocabulary was clearly not within their scope of knowledge.
Gromril did not mock the short-lived races for their ignorance, as his compatriots often did; he continued.
"It's normal not to know the specific details. You just need to know that my clan is powerful. In principle, everything your territory needs can be obtained through us, provided there's a suitable price," Gromril added.
"What do you mean by a suitable price?" Knight Leiren, not financially well-off, was still concerned about this question.
"I'll give you an 80% discount on the market price. A territory of a thousand or so people won't consume much anyway," Gromril confidently made the promise.
"Boss, no, Boss, there must be a limit to this!" Tomi, indeed a seasoned merchant, timely reminded Gromril, who was already slightly tipsy from too much alcohol.
"Right, the annual limit for discounted goods will be five thousand gold coins!" Gromril added. Even if this matter ultimately didn't receive his father's support, he could afford to subsidize a thousand gold coins' worth. This also, to some extent, prevented the knight in front of him from potentially changing careers to become a middleman.
"Hmm, then, what do I need to pay in return?" Although Knight Leiren's cheeks were flushed from drinking, he still hadn't lost his composure. His demeanor made all the dwarves present look at him with increased respect.
"For now, nothing. If you really feel uncomfortable, just compile and hand over any noteworthy intelligence from the Border Princes to the contact person when the caravan returns each year," Gromril thought for a moment and said.
"When you achieve, or are close to achieving your goal, someone will contact you!" he added.