Bashington DC, The Black House
Meanwhile, at Solo's office, Solo and Lilith were in the middle of a video conference with Stan, Mo, Bub, and Hannya. The large screen on the wall was divided into several panels, each showing a familiar face.
Hannya stood stiffly on her end, holding a parchment with both hands. She's currently reading the content in a flat, ceremonial tone.
"Thus, it is Meridinian Alliance duty as a faithful goddess-believer nation," Hannya read, eyes scanning the text, "to help the Dwargonian, cleansing Talvaris from evils and its accomplices, and bring eternal peace and justice, once and for all."
She paused, folded the parchment neatly, and looked up.
"Or in short," Hannya said, "Of course we will take advantage of the situation to snatch the Canal from Murica and Ravendawn."
Solo clicked his tongue softly and leaned back in his chair.
"Tch. Our military just wrapped the battle nicely using Ravendawn forces," he muttered. "And these hyenas can't resist the temptation."
"Hyena?" Lilith asked, tilting her head.
"Sleazy opportunistic carnivores from Earth," Solo replied.
Lilith thought for a moment, then nodded.
"Oh. A house pet, then."
Solo stared at her.
"…No. Definitely not a house pet."
"If we're fighting two armies," Stan said, cutting in before Solo could explain Earth zoology, "Ravendawn won't have enough forces for us to hide behind like last time."
"Sigh…" Solo rubbed his temple. "Bub. How's the ballistic missile production?"
Bub appeared on-screen looking… unwell. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair messy, and his posture screamed "please don't gave me more caffeine".
"We just finished the third batch," Bub said. "We're continuing the fourth."
"There are still dozens of batches left," Lilith said calmly. "Can't you speed it up? We already gave the funds."
Bub's eye twitched.
"Are you kidding me?" he snapped. "We don't have enough factories, raw resources, or manpower. Producing war machines "while" maintaining civilian electronics is already pushing every factory past maximum capacity."
He jabbed a finger at the screen.
"Look at me! I'm a proud demon engineer," Bub continued, voice cracking just slightly, "and I'm starting to have nightmares about machines? ME?"
There was a brief silence.
Solo sighed. Bub was right. If Murican civilians didn't get their usual flood of entertainment and consumer goods, they'd start demanding to join the war purely out of boredom. Lowering private-sector production wasn't an option.
If only this were Earth, Solo thought. We'd just outsource everything to some other country.
"We need to stop the war with one of them," Solo said firmly.
"Mo," Lilith said, turning to another panel, "how's the investigation? Some solid evidence against Meridinia would be very helpful."
Mo shook his head slowly.
"Still in progress. My clone is en route to Meridinia as we speak."
"And I doubt the warhawks in Dwargonia would accept any evidence from us easily," Hannya added.
"It would be nice if we have an ally on their side" Solo muttered.
"Meanwhile," Stan said, pulling up another display, "our satellites show Dwargonia preparing another assault within a few days. And this time… they've learned."
Solo straightened.
"Deploy the available ballistic missiles to our forces," he ordered. "Its better to have more long-range options we can use without revealing ourselves."
"Got it," Stan replied.
"And if we have to choose which army to annihilate," Solo continued, voice cold, "go with Meridinia. Show them they can't outplay demons."
"Of course," Stan grinned. "Well, Bub, how about you send those—"
"Go get it yourself," Bub snapped instantly.
"Oh come on!"
While the ministers continued arguing, Solo leaned back again, his gaze drifting away from the screen.
Sigh… Levi, he thought. If you're still alive, now would be a great time to show up.
---
Langley
Meanwhile, at Mo's office in BICH headquarters, Janet stood beside him, also listening to the report feed.
"How's our agent deployment?" Mo asked.
"They're already spread throughout Meridinia," Janet replied. "Assessing vital locations."
"Good. And don't stop digging for internal dirt," Mo said. "Their Alliance looks united, but it's really just profit holding it together. We can exploit that."
"Understood, sir," Janet said.
Ever since Janet and Mo's clone found out that it was Meridinia who have been playing them and Dwargonia, Solo had decided to focus their clandestine forces on Meridinia for payback.
Mo, gratefully accepted the assignment.
---
Boulderhelm Base, Underground
Levi, Dwordoug, Mara, and Cinderclaws descended deeper underground, following Hilda as Boulderhelm Base slowly revealed its true scale.
The deeper they went, the more the stone corridors gave way to steel-lined tunnels. Steam-powered machinery hummed behind reinforced walls, pistons hissing rhythmically like the base itself was breathing.
They stopped in front of a holding cell.
Inside lay an unconscious dwarf soldier—beaten, bruised, and tightly restrained.
"This one," Hilda said coldly, "sent an unauthorized long-range transmission using our mana-comm. Then sabotaged it."
"Who is he?" Dwordoug asked.
"A new recruit," Hilda replied. "Posted here a month ago."
"That aligns perfectly with our transfer to Moth Pole," Mara said.
"Oh, nice memory," Levi commented.
"After hearing your account," Hilda continued, "I believe he's a Goldenclaws spy. He likely reported your presence yesterday—before cutting our communications."
"Oh?" Levi said casually. "So technically, we could've used the mana-comm when we arrived two days ago."
Both Dwordoug and Cinderclaws stiffened instantly.
"Shhh!" Cinderclaws hissed. "Never point out a female dwarf's mistake,"
"Especially my wife." Dwordoug added urgently.
"…Ah. Right," Levi said softly. "My apologies. How rude of me."
Hilda stared at all three of them.
"Ehm—anyway," Cinderclaws said quickly, "that means Goldenclaws may arrive anytime."
"Very likely," Dwordoug nodded.
"I can persuade him to talk when he wakes up," Levi offered.
"Please do," Dwordoug said sincerely. "Ask how much time we have. I don't think anyone here can match you at that."
Levi smiled.
"I still can't believe they placed a mole this far from Moth Pole," Dwordoug sighed. "They truly left nothing to chance."
"Hmph. If they come," Hilda said, smirking, "they're welcome."
She crossed her arms.
"I need targets for testing my weaponry."
"Oh?" Mara perked up. "What kind of weapons?"
"Hmph, I can't tell you without clearance from at least two generals," Hilda said, turning away.
All eyes slowly shifted toward Dwordoug.
"…Err."
---
Boulderhelm Base, Underground Hangar
A giant elevator descended slowly into the depths.
Steel cables groaned overhead while steam-powered pistons hissed at steady intervals. The platform was enormous—wide enough to fit two buses side by side—with thick iron railings.
"Tch."
Hilda tapped her foot against the metal floor, arms crossed, her irritation radiating outward. She had momentarily forgotten that her husband happened to be the "highest military authority in all of Dwargonia".
"This is an awfully big elevator," Levi remarked casually, clearly trying to ease the tension.
"…."
No response.
Hilda continued staring straight ahead, jaw clenched.
Sensing danger, Dwordoug cleared his throat and stepped in.
"Ehm—yes," he said carefully, choosing every word very carefully. "That's because Boulderhelm is a weapon-testing base. Naturally, many… very large objects need to be transported here."
As if the base itself wanted to prove his point, the stone wall in front of them began to retract.
Massive slabs of reinforced earth slid apart with a deep, grinding rumble, revealing what lay beyond.
The elevator was still descending when the cavern opened up before them.
A colossal underground space stretched outward, illuminated by rows of glowing mana lamps embedded in the rock walls. Metal walkways crisscrossed the cavern at multiple levels, filled with dwarven engineers, soldiers, and workers moving with disciplined efficiency.
At one side, rows of steam armors stood in formation while crews performed maintenance—tightening bolts, replacing steam engines, recalibrating joints.
But the most striking sight lay on the opposite side of the cavern.
Two massive steampunk warships rested in dark water connected directly to an opening leading out toward the fjord. Their armored hulls were reinforced with rivets the size of shields, turrets lining the decks, anti-air batteries humming faintly with restrained power.
"…Wow," Levi breathed. "That's quite a sight."
"Indeed," Mara agreed quietly.
They were soon standing beside one of the warships, dwarfed by its sheer scale.
"This," Dwordoug said, unable to fully hide his pride, "is the latest Dwargonian cruiser. It's scheduled for release soon."
He gestured toward the deck-mounted weapons.
"It features a newly developed anti-air system. Designed so our fleets don't have to rely solely on airships anymore."
Cinderclaws studied the hull closely.
"Does this cruiser have a mana-comm installed?" he asked.
"Not yet," Hilda replied. "My family was scheduled to deliver it next week."
"Your family, ma'am?" Cinderclaws asked.
"Yes," Dwordoug said. "My wife was a Silverfist before marrying me and becoming an Axebreaker."
"Sigh…" Hilda muttered. "I should've listened to my mother and married a Bluespire instead."
Another invisible knife stabbed directly into Dwordoug's chest.
"At a glance, it looks pretty similar to the old Murican ship," Levi said. "But this one looks cooler."
"It is similar," Mara said thoughtfully. "It'd be even better if it were similar enough to have a radio, so we could contact Murica."
Cinderclaws tilted his head.
"…What's a radio?"
"It's like our version of a mana-comm," Mara explained. "But instead of mana-flow, it uses electromagnetic waves."
"So it's purely mechanical?" Cinderclaws' eyes lit up. "If that's the case, I might be able to build one."
"Well," Mara said, looking around, "…we do have a lot of engineers here."
"Hohoho!" Cinderclaws grinned. "And in front of you is the best engineer in Moth Pole. Just tell me the principle and shape."
"Well," Mara said, opening his subspace with a flicker of dark energy, "too bad we don't have internet here. But I do remember keeping a book on radio engineering in my personal subspace."
The moment the subspace opened—
"KEEEEE! KEEEE! KEEEEEEE!"
Shawshank suddenly vibrated violently, screaming at the top of its enchanted lungs.
"Huh? Shawshank?" Dwordoug startled. "What's wrong? Why are you suddenly angry?"
"KEEEE! KEEEEEEE!"
"No, no!" Dwordoug hurriedly rubbed the pickaxe gently. "Nobody's putting you back in there!"
"I was wondering why you carried that ugly pickaxe everywhere," Hilda remarked flatly. "It understands us?"
Levi whispered to Mara. "Isn't the better question why "he" understands Shawshank?"
Mara shrugged.
"Well… Yes," Dwordoug said, still trying to calm the trembling tool. "Shawshank understands our language."
Before he could continue—
Hilda suddenly snatched Shawshank out of his hands.
"!"
The pickaxe startled.
She leaned down and whispered coldly to it.
"Listen up, pickaxe. You see that ship?"
Shawshank squeaked faintly.
"You're the perfect size and shape to be its anchor," Hilda continued. "Which means if you don't shut the fuck up, you'll spend the rest of your magical life at the bottom of the sea."
She smiled thinly.
"Imagine it. Salt water. Rust. Slowly eating you away."
Shawshank went completely silent.
Hilda tossed it back to Dwordoug.
"And that," she said, "is how you stop a child's tantrum."
Dwordoug caught Shawshank just in time. The pickaxe trembled, clearly holding back tears.
"Alright," Hilda announced, clapping her hands once. "Everyone knows their homework."
She pointed at Levi.
"You. Tall. Annoyingly smug demon. Handle the Goldenclaws spies."
"Yes, ma'am," Levi replied smoothly.
She turned to Mara and Cinderclaws.
"You. One with too much fat and one with not enough fat."
They looked at each other.
"Build those radio things and get us backup. Use whatever materials you want."
Finally, she cracked her knuckles.
"And me?"
"I've got a massive live-testing show to prepare. Kukuku."
Dwordoug raised his hand slightly, about to ask his role—
…then slowly lowered it again and remained silent.
---
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