"It is precisely because it is strong that it deserves the name 'wine'!"
Dain retorted loudly, then pointed to his throat, "We dwarves drink to measure the temperature of the wildfire with our throats! The way you drink, you won't even light a flame!"
He stood up, swayed slightly, but still insisted on keeping his back straight, as if to say, "I can have ten more cups."
"You…" He looked around at the crowd, pointing his finger in the air, "Your alcohol tolerance is terrible! Compared to us dwarves, you're simply… utterly pathetic!"
His words drew wry smiles from those around him, and even Paul couldn't help but shake his head and chuckle.
Helson whispered to Cecil beside him, "He's completely drunk."
"Yes," Cecil replied in a low voice, "but it's not that I can't hold my liquor, it's that I have no idea how strong this liquor is."
Dain persisted, patting his chest and muttering something in Dwarven language, his tone laced with provocation and pride.
He staggered to his seat, tilting his head slightly as if he wanted to say something more, but before he could finish speaking, his eyes glazed over, his head slumped back in the chair, and a soft snore began to sound.
The crowd looked at each other in bewilderment, then burst into laughter.
"Mr. Dain," Hansel chuckled and patted him on the shoulder, "it seems you've truly been conquered by the dragon's breath tonight."
Dain did not respond, only a satisfied smile on his lips, his snoring growing louder as he drifted off to sleep.
Paul beckoned, and the servants tiptoed over, helped him up from the back of the chair, and carefully carried him toward the guest room as his heavy body swayed.
The candlelight in the hall still flickered, and the air was filled with the aroma of wine and the lingering warmth of roasted meat.
Although everyone was a little drunk, they knew there was still important business to discuss, so they straightened their clothes and sat around a corner of the long table.
Paul picked up a glass of water, rinsed his mouth gently, then put it down, his gaze sweeping over everyone before finally settling on Helson.
"Do you think," he began slowly, his voice low, "that if we can enter the Stonemasons' territory with the help of this dwarven envoy… we should consider taking some… more direct measures?"
Helson paused for a moment, then understood Paul's meaning. He didn't answer immediately, but hesitated for a moment before slowly speaking:
"My lord, if I may be so bold, taking military action against the Stonemasons Clan rashly would likely be counterproductive."
He looked around at everyone and said in a calm tone, "Although the dwarves do not have firearms, their strength far exceeds that of ordinary people, and they can easily climb steep cliffs and move through the mountains and forests. More importantly, they have their own territory."
He paused, then said, "That's not a city, but a mountain. The underground is filled with tunnels, traps, and mechanisms, all interconnected and intricately linked. If a human army were to rashly enter, it would likely be trapped in an endless labyrinth and devoured bit by bit."
He paused for a moment, then added, "The information I heard in Furnace Keep suggests that the Stonemasons' territory is no less impressive than that of the Ironhammers. They are also an ancient and powerful clan, skilled in excavation and construction, and their underground structures may be even more extensive and hidden."
Paul frowned slightly after hearing this: "You mean, we can't break through at all?"
"It's very difficult to break in," Helson shook his head. "And once you're in, it's very difficult to get out."
He paused again, his tone becoming serious: "More importantly, Dain is an envoy sent by the Ironhammer Clan. If we take military action against the Stonemasons Clan, we will not only fail to persuade them, but will also anger the Ironhammer Clan. We already have a troublesome enemy—the Orcs, and we cannot afford to have another equally troublesome enemy, especially since the Ironhammer Clan is located directly north of Lakeshire."
He looked at Paul with a firm gaze: "Moreover, dwarves value bloodlines and honor. If we break our promise, we will not only lose their trust, but may also incite hostility from the entire dwarf race. At that time, we will probably face more than just two dwarf clans."
The people under the candlelight had different expressions; some were deep in thought, while others looked solemn. The effects of the alcohol had not yet worn off, but the atmosphere was no longer relaxed.
Paul sat with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the table as if looking at a map that only he could see.
"I haven't been sleeping well these past few days," he suddenly said, his voice carrying a weight that had been suppressed for a long time.
Everyone looked at him, and the officials who had been talking in hushed tones fell silent.
"Ever since I learned that the orcs could lead their armies across the Loki Mountains, I haven't slept soundly." He raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "That mountain range… was supposed to be our shield."
His tone betrayed a hint of weariness and unease: "The Rocky Mountains north of Aldo have protected us for centuries. We've always thought they were a divinely bestowed wall, that as long as we guarded a few key points, we could rest easy. But now we know they weren't walls, they were gates."
He paused for a moment, as if recalling reports from the front lines.
"The orcs passed through it, not the small groups of raiders as before, but an entire army. They carried battle axes, war drums, and the ambition to conquer."
The hall was silent.
"Indeed, the Rocky Mountains are no longer safe." Old Ford sighed softly. Helson didn't speak, but his eyes also showed a thoughtful look.
"A stonemason clan has already sided with our enemies," Paul continued. "While the Ironhammer clan is not our enemy, they cannot control the other dwarves, and could they one day become our adversaries as well?"
He looked around at everyone, his tone becoming more serious:
"I'm not saying we should immediately become enemies with the dwarves, but rather that we must take a long-term view. The Aldor must control the mountain passes that allow their armies to pass through!"
He paused, as if concluding his point: "It's not about making them open, nor about making them neutral, but about putting them in human hands."
The candlelight illuminated the thoughtful faces of the group. Paul slowly leaned back in his chair, as if finally letting out a weight that had been pressing on his heart. "Otherwise, we will never be safe."
Old Ford coughed lightly, picked up his water glass, took a sip, and slowly began to speak:
"The Marquis is right. The Rocky Mountains are no longer a barrier, but a passage. But if we can control them, they can turn from a threat back into an advantage."
"Take the three northern regions for example. They are developing well now, but their connection with us depends entirely on the sea route. Storms, pirates, supply delays... any one of these could isolate the three northern regions."
"If we can open up a land route from the Northwest Bay to the three northern regions in the western part of the Rocky Mountains, it will not only strengthen the connection between the two places, but also allow us to quickly mobilize troops for support when necessary."
The people in the hall nodded in agreement, and Hansel interjected, "Indeed, although land routes have a lower carrying capacity than sea routes, they are safer and more stable."