Deep in the Rocky Mountains, the Ironhammer Clan and the Stonemason Clan, though geographically distant, one in the west and the other in the east, have always maintained contact.
The current chieftain of the Stonemasons Clan, Imar, is the cousin of the young chieftain of Balash and also his close childhood friend.
Based on this personal relationship, Barash ultimately decided to send an envoy to the Aldor Kingdom as a mediator between the humans and the Stonemasons Clan—if Imar had indeed done something to collude with the orcs.
This messenger was Dawn Ironhand, an experienced dwarven warrior and one of Barash's most trusted men. He was friendly towards humans and was very happy to accept this mission.
Dain was tasked with personally witnessing and assessing the current situation and seeking any possible peaceful solutions. He bore a dual mission: to demonstrate the Ironhammer Clan's position to humanity and to persuade the Stonemason Clan to reconsider their choices and avoid embarking on a dangerous path.
"We, the Ironhammer Clan, don't really like getting involved in outside conflicts," Dain said softly during a break at the banquet. "But this time is different. The Stonemasons Clan are our relatives by marriage, and we don't want them to fight against our human neighbors."
Paul nodded in understanding: "Your arrival is precisely to reassure us that peace is still possible."
As the wine intensified and the candlelight flickered, Dain's cheeks began to glow red.
His voice was louder than before, and his movements were more unrestrained—the intensity of the "dragon's breath" was high, but it suited the dwarf's temperament perfectly, and he was now completely immersed in the pleasure brought by the drink.
Paul looked at him, a hint of a smile flashing in his eyes, but his tone remained cautious:
"You can certainly take us to the Stonemasons' clan yourself, but I'm not too optimistic. Mr. Imar's attitude is still unclear, and I'm worried that even if you go, they might not be willing to open the door."
Upon hearing this, Dain laughed heartily and slammed his hand heavily on the table, causing the silver cup to bounce slightly.
"Lord Gleyman, you underestimate the bond of blood among us dwarves!" he said boldly, with a hint of alcohol in his voice. "Imar is a chieftain, but he is also Lord Barash's cousin, and one of my own kind!"
He paused, tapped his chest with his fingers, and said firmly:
"As long as I stand in front of the Stonemasons' clan's gate and say, 'Dain of the Ironhammer Clan has come to visit,' they will not refuse me, never!"
He raised his head, his eyes bright and clear, a hint of intoxication in them, yet also radiating a convincing confidence:
"Do you think we dwarves only know how to forge iron and guard mountains? No, we understand rules and value bloodlines more. An envoy from the Ironhammer Clan has come with sincerity, and they will not turn me away."
Paul smiled slightly and did not refute. He could tell that Dain did not say this entirely out of pride; he genuinely had the confidence.
"Then I'll rely on your words and your heart." Paul raised his glass. "Bottoms up, Dragon's Breath."
Dain laughed, raised his glass and drank it all in one gulp, then wiped the wine stains off his beard.
The banquet continued, and the atmosphere became increasingly relaxed as the wine flowed.
Old Ford and Hansel sat at one side of the long table, slowly chewing on roasted mushrooms while discreetly observing the dwarf messenger's reaction.
"Mr. Dain," Old Ford spoke first, his tone gentle, "what do you think of this 'Dragon's Breath' wine? Is there a similar wine in the dwarven territory?"
Upon hearing this, Dain put down his wine glass, his eyes gleaming, a few drops of wine still clinging to his beard.
"I've never drunk anything so potent!" he exclaimed, patting his chest. "Dwarves certainly have their own spirits—ale, firethroat, black iron brew… but your 'dragon's breath' is a spirit that can truly burn through your throat and ignite your soul!"
As he spoke, he waved his hand dramatically, as if imitating the rising of flames.
"Good wine!" he repeated emphatically, drawing laughter from the surrounding guests.
Hansel smiled slightly, raised his glass to Dain, and then changed the subject:
"Since you like it, we certainly won't let you leave empty-handed. We will prepare several jars of this 'Dragon's Breath' for you to take back to the Ironhammer Clan. You are also welcome to come to Lakeheart Town again to purchase it in person."
Dain was taken aback, then repeatedly expressed his gratitude: "Thank you, thank you! If we had such strong liquor where we are, the banquet at Firefort would be even more magnificent."
Hansel continued, "Actually, it's not just wine. We Ordos have many things that might be quite valuable to dwarves as well. For example, ironware, cloth, medicine, and even... paper and ink."
He paused, then said gently, "We are also willing to exchange these for your minerals, metal products, and handicrafts... As long as both sides are willing, the door to trade can be opened."
Dain's smile faded slightly. He gently put down his wine glass, his expression becoming somewhat hesitant.
"Lord Hansel," he said sincerely but with a hint of embarrassment, "I would certainly like to see the two races grow closer. But… trade is not something I can decide. That is the business of the chieftains and elders."
He added, "As you know, we don't easily interact with the outside world."
Hansel nodded in understanding, his tone still gentle: "I understand. I just hope you can take our sincerity back with you. Tell your chieftains and elders that humans are willing to exchange goods with dwarves in an equal and respectful manner."
After a moment of silence, Dain nodded solemnly: "I will tell them. I will tell them that the lords and officials of Lakeheart Town have brought not only wine, but also sincerity."
He raised his glass, swirled it gently, and looked at them with a complex expression. "I hope they'll listen."
Dain was completely engulfed in the flames of "Dragon's Breath".
He was never a reserved guest to begin with, and now, fueled by alcohol, he completely let loose. He no longer maintained the demeanor of a diplomat when he first arrived, but instead became a typical dwarf—proud, unrestrained, and outspoken.
He picked up the silver cup, tilted his head back, and drank it all in one gulp. As he swallowed, the wine rolled down like fire, and his eyes immediately lit up.
"This wine!" he exclaimed, slapping the edge of the table. "This is the real dwarf wine!"
The officials sitting to his left and right only took a small sip before putting down their glasses, their faces slightly flushed, and some even coughing.
Dain squinted at their cautious appearance and couldn't help but burst into laughter: "You...you humans drink alcohol like it's medicine?"
He slammed his hand on the table, his beard trembling: "Take tiny bites, are you afraid of burning your mouth?"
Old Ford shook his head with a wry smile: "This is no ordinary wine, it's 'Dragon's Breath'."