Arda, Lakeside Town, inside the lord's office.
On the map, a red arrow starts from Watcher's Fortress, winds around the loess land, and finally disappears into the towering mountains to the north.
"It can be confirmed that Abar did not leave Watcher's Fortress." Paul, who had just returned, spoke calmly, but with a hint of gravity. "He withdrew from the dwarven territory back to the plains."
Hansel Abbott, sitting to the side, frowned: "The reclusive dwarves have always maintained neutrality... but this time they've let the orcs pass?"
"Perhaps they were forced," Catherine said calmly, standing by the window. "But in any case, they have sided with our enemy."
Silence filled the room. Dwarves were a mysterious race that had had almost no formal contact with humans for thousands of years. Their territory was located deep in the Rocky Mountains, making it difficult for outsiders to enter, let alone negotiate with them.
"We need to send someone over," Paul finally spoke. "If they're willing to reconsider their stance, they might become our allies in the fight against the orcs. If not, at least make them understand that siding with our enemies comes at a price."
He looked around at everyone present: "We need an envoy to go to the dwarven territory."
No one answered for a moment.
"My lord, the problem is…" Hansel sighed, "nobody knows how to find the dwarves."
Paul actually knew that the scouts he sent had wandered aimlessly through the vast Rocky Mountains without finding a single dwarf.
Ford said, "Governor-General Stanford of the Northern Territories once had contact with dwarves; perhaps we could ask him?"
Paul shook his head: "It's no use. After Stanford returned to the North, he tried to re-establish contact with them, but was turned away. Now they seem to dislike even the forest orcs."
Seeing that everyone remained silent, Paul said helplessly, "In that case, let's spread the word that we are looking for a messenger to go to the dwarfs' territory. Perhaps someone will know what to do."
The news spread quickly, and to his surprise, things soon took a turn for the better.
Just two days later, Viscount Helson appeared in Paul's office, his expression resolute.
"My family once helped the dwarves. They gave us a token, which is said to grant the holder access to dwarven territory."
He took a bone flute out of his pocket. "My lord, I think I may give it a try."
Paul raised an eyebrow: "I've never heard you mention this before."
"I initially thought it was just a family legend," Helson said, taking a few steps closer. "But now it seems we can try to take it as fact."
Paul took the bone flute from the viscount; it was engraved with ancient runes and had a mysterious feel to it.
"If this is true," Paul examined it carefully, "then it is a key for us to unlock the world of the dwarves."
A few years ago, that dwarf "prince" named Imar probably wanted to give Paul a key like that, on the condition that he help him regain his position as chieftain. Unfortunately, Paul's strength at the time was not enough to help him.
Helson's gaze was firm: "Let me go. I want to do something for Alda."
The Helson family was one of the fiefdoms of Emden. They were once vassals of the Kent family. After the War of the Usurpers, the Kent family, without Maltz, was stripped of their power, and Paul became the new master of Emden. The former vassals had no choice but to turn to Gleman.
The viscount had always longed for an opportunity to prove himself.
Paul paused for a moment, then nodded.
"Very well! You will represent me in the dwarven lands. But remember, this is not an ordinary mission. You are facing a people who have been isolated for thousands of years, a race we know almost nothing about."
Helson bowed deeply: "I understand."
When the Viscount returned to his residence in Laketown, he felt a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. The importance of this mission was undeniable, not only for Alda but also for his family.
He took out the dwarven bone flute and carefully stroked the runes on it.
"Uncle," his nephew Orlando entered the room, his eyes filled with concern, "Are you really going?"
Orlando passed the Lakeside town civil service exam a few years ago and currently works for the State Council.
"Yes," Helson nodded, "this is an opportunity for our family, and also for Alda."
Orlando was silent for a moment, then said, "Please be very careful."
Helson patted his nephew on the shoulder: "Don't worry, I'll come back with good news."
...
Helson set off with ten guards and servants, heading north through Northview and into the western part of the rolling Rocky Mountains.
The terrain here is rugged, the forests are dense, and the mountain winds howl, as if the whole earth is whispering ancient secrets. It is said that many years ago, the legendary explorer Captain Stanford and his companions returned to Aldo from here.
They carried all the supplies they could and followed the seemingly passable paths. As the altitude gradually increased, the air became thin and cold, and the ground beneath their feet changed from soft soil to hard rock.
"My lord, the legendary Blackstone Valley is just ahead. Perhaps we can give it a try there," a follower said, pointing to a valley surrounded by mountains.
Helson nodded and continued on with the others. Once they entered the valley, they found it shrouded in thick fog.
Helson took out the bone flute hanging on his chest.
This is a short flute made from the bone of an unknown beast, its surface engraved with intricate runes, and it feels solid and warm to the touch. According to the family elders, this bone flute was a gift from their ancestor after he saved a dwarf during an adventure in the mountains.
Before he left, the dwarf said, "If you or your descendants need help, you can play this in these mountains."
Helson took a deep breath, placed the bone flute to his lips, and gently blew it.
The first note was deep and resonant, echoing through the valley; the second note was clear and stirring, like the wind whistling through the cracks in the rocks; and the third note was as steady and powerful as a heartbeat.
After a moment of silence, a faint tremor could be heard coming from the mountainside.
To Helson and the others' surprise, a group of figures emerged from the thick fog in the valley.
Could things really go this smoothly? The group was somewhat incredulous.
Could they be bandits or robbers from the mountains? Their hearts quickly rose to their throats.
The group were not tall, but they were exceptionally sturdy, with thick beards, wearing heavy leather armor and iron boots, and carrying battle axes and short swords.
This is undoubtedly the legendary dwarf!
The leader was a dwarf with a full beard and sharp eyes like a hawk. He had a beautifully carved bronze key hanging from his waist.
"Outsider," the dwarf said in somewhat broken human language, "how did you come to possess this bone flute?"
Helson stepped forward and respectfully raised the bone flute: "You may call me Helson, from the Northwest Bay in the south. My ancestor once rescued a dwarf friend here, and this is a token he gave us."
The chieftain extended his hand, and Helson immediately handed him the bone flute. The dwarf chieftain examined it carefully and then nodded.
"Since you are the wielder of the Oath-Keeping Flute, then you are a guest of our Ironhammer Clan. May I ask what brings you here?"
Helson took a deep breath and said somewhat nervously, "I wish to meet with your clan chief."
The dwarves exchanged glances, and their expressions showed some hesitation about Helson's request.
After a moment of silence, the dwarf leader nodded.
"Okay, you can come with us—but only you can come!"