The fireplace burned in the hall, casting Paul and Duke's shadows on the walls.
A huge map lay across a long table, with the mountains and passes of the North rising and falling between wax contour lines.
Paul bent down, his fingertips tracing the treacherous ravines.
"Even without the support of Crystal Radiance, we in Northwest Bay are determined to continue fighting the Orcs until the threat of the Royal Tent is completely eliminated."
" Marquis Glaeman!" Hal Duke looked at Paul with a mixture of admiration and shame.
"Haha, don't imagine me to be so great!" Paul waved his hands repeatedly and revealed the real reason why he wanted to continue fighting—the orcs' power had seriously threatened the economic interests of Northwest Bay.
Duke remained silent for a long time. As the commander of the Sentinel Legion, resisting the orcs was his destiny and a mission bestowed upon him by the kingdom.
But now it is Paul, far away in the Northwest, who is shouldering the burden of this war alone.
He felt a deep sense of shame, like a cold blade piercing his chest.
A moment later, he slowly unfastened the sword from his waist and gently placed it on the table. The hilt was still wrapped with leather that had been torn during the battle.
" Marquis Glaeman!" he said in a deep and firm voice, "It is our oath as watchmen to resist the orcs, it is our duty. Now that you have stepped forward, if we remain cowering within the kingdom's borders, we will be insulting that oath."
He looked up at Paul, his gaze like a blazing torch: "I am willing to draw an elite force from the Sentinel Legion to accompany you on your expedition. They will obey your command and orders. Also, if supplies are short, Yellow Earth Land will provide assistance."
Paul looked at him, a slight smile playing on his lips, and said with approval in his eyes, "Under the current circumstances, I won't refuse. I will accept your soldiers. Thank you."
Paul moved his finger away from the grassland and slowly pointed to the area around the Eastern Rocky Mountains. "Right now, we must deal with the Stonemason Clan first."
Duke looked up sharply: "Those dwarves? Yes, it's them who are colluding with the orcs."
Paul nodded: "My messenger Helson, along with Dain, the mediator of another dwarf clan, the Iron Hammer Clan, entered their territory and never came out again."
Paul stared at the mountains and sighed, "The guards only said we couldn't go in, then they led us into the mountains and we haven't heard from them since. We don't even know if they're alive or dead now."
Duke slammed his fist on the table, his anger erupting: "Damn stonemason dwarves! How did the orcs cross the Rocky Mountains when Watchers Fortress fell? It was them! These foolish dwarves opened the mountain gates and let Abar's army through the cliffs!"
His eyes were bloodshot, and his voice trembled: "They're the ones who ruined Aldor! They're the ones who ruined humanity!"
Paul did not stop his anger, but waited until he calmed down a little before gently pressing his shoulder: "I understand your hatred. But anger will not take us into the mountains."
He looked Duke straight in the eye: "What I need are people who can lead us into the mountains—even just hunters, herb gatherers, or shepherds who are familiar with the outer mountain paths, or who have strayed into the dwarf trails before. No matter how tight the Stonemason Clan is, it can't block every mountain path. As a clan within a small race, they are limited in number, while the Rocky Mountains are vast."
"Now, Yellow Earth Land is your fief. The villages at the foot of the mountains, the border towns, and the nomadic camps are all under your jurisdiction. I would like to ask you—without disturbing the dwarves, to quietly inquire among the people if anyone knows of any hidden paths leading to their territory."
Duke took a deep breath, suppressed his anger, and nodded after a moment of contemplation: "What you said makes sense. There used to be such a legend that some people who hunted on the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains said they had seen the shadow of the'Stone Gate'. There is also a legend that someone was trapped by a landslide and crawled out of a rift valley that was 'opened by non-humans'."
He looked up at Paul: "I will send people to investigate secretly, asking them one by one. If there are any leads, I will immediately notify Lakeheart Town."
Paul nodded slightly: "Very good. We're not in a hurry to start a war, but we must find the door first."
The firelight illuminated the sand table. Paul was about to speak when Duke spoke first: "If your army wishes to continue stationing in Yellow Earth Land, I have no objection. Now that this land has been granted to me, I can naturally decide who can station troops in my territory."
Paul listened, a glint of light flashing in his eyes, but he did not show any surprise.
He had planned to formally request troop deployment after finalizing military cooperation— Yellow Earth Land, adjacent to the Rocky Mountains, was the only springboard for advancing on Stonemason Clan territory, and the Northwest Legion absolutely could not retreat. Now that Duke had taken the initiative, he was spared the trouble of weighing his options and making his own wording.
"In that case," he replied calmly, "I will order the main force of the legion to remain stationed in your territory and set up camp at the pass near the Eastern Rocky Mountains."
He traced a valley on the map with his finger—a place where mountains meet plains, surrounded by mountains on three sides, with only one ancient road leading to the edge of the dwarven territory.
"Set up camp here, build fortifications, reinforce the defenses, and construct another outpost fortress, which we will name ' Mountain Throat Fortress.' Seal off all known entrances and exits into the depths of the mountains. Not a single bird shall be allowed to fly in without my order."
Duke looked at the proposed site and nodded: "The terrain is easy to defend and difficult to attack, with abundant water resources, making it suitable for long-term garrisoning. I will order the local authorities to cooperate by providing timber, stone, and manpower."
"There's no need to use civilian laborers," Paul said. "I've brought an engineering battalion and mobile workshops, and the military will build the fortress themselves. We won't take a single piece of wood or stone from the civilians; we only ask for passage and tacit approval."
Duke chuckled. "Are you worried I'll complain to Crystal Radiance behind your back? Don't worry, from now on, the soldiers of Lakeheart Town in Yellow Earth Land are not guests, but our shields."
The two looked at each other, needing no further words.
Just days after the agreement was reached, the supply convoy from Lakeheart Town was already rolling eastward, the long line crossing the plains and heading towards the northern border of Yellow Earth Land.
The truck was fully loaded with grayish-white powder—cement—sealed in burlap sacks.
The local people had never seen this material before. They were used to building walls with rammed earth and laying foundations with stones. It often took them several months to build a fortress. But when they saw the Northwest engineers working with their own eyes, they were all amazed.
The engineers mixed cement with sand, gravel, and crushed rock, added water to make a slurry, and poured it into pre-erected wooden molds. In less than half a day, the wall began to take shape, and overnight the slurry solidified like rock, becoming extremely hard.
They even embedded iron mesh into the walls to make the structure more robust and far more resistant to impact than traditional stone masonry.
In the throat valley of the Eastern Rocky Mountains, a bastion is rising at an astonishing pace. Its foundation is deeply buried, its walls are three meters thick, it has gun emplacements at the four corners, and its central watchtower is fifteen meters high, overlooking the entire pass.
People call it the " Mountain Throat Fortress ".