Paul folded the military briefing, put it into a leather scroll, and handed it to Deson.
"You will personally go to Mountain Throat Fortress." His voice was deep and clear. "Take the first batch of finished explosives and give them to Derrick. Conduct a live-fire demonstration outside the pass controlled by the Stonemason Clan. I want those dwarves to see with their own eyes what it means to have the power to split mountains."
He paused for a moment, then said, "Furthermore, I authorize Mountain Throat Fortress to launch further strikes as the situation warrants—provided there is a high probability of victory."
Deson took the roll, his fingers tightening slightly. He had read about the power of the explosives in the report, but witnessing it firsthand was different from actually transporting it.
"However, the main objective of the attack should be to force them to surrender," Paul continued. "We shouldn't immediately penetrate deeper. Explosives, cannons, firearms —let our weapons be used in rotation to make them understand the cost of resistance. But don't try to wipe them out right away; after all, we don't yet know the true strength of the dwarves."
Paul's gaze darkened. "Also, try to find out Sir Helson's current status. I suspect there's a high chance he's still alive. If he's imprisoned, try to pinpoint his location. If the Mountain Throat Fortress can get some prisoners, we can use them for exchange. After all, the dwarves are far fewer in number than humans. Sir Helson was the first envoy to attempt negotiations with the dwarves; we can't just let him disappear into the mountains."
Deson took a deep breath, a surge of uncontrollable heat rising in his chest. This was no ordinary order; he was being directly involved in a military operation against a mysterious dwarf clan.
He will carry the most powerful weapons of this era and venture into the perilous Rocky Mountains to carry out a strategic mission personally assigned by Lord Glaeman.
"I understand." His voice was slightly tense with excitement. "I will certainly live up to Marquis's trust."
Deson was about to turn and leave when he paused, turned back, and asked tentatively with a hint of caution, "Sir, may I bring the 'Mind Group' with me?"
Paul raised an eyebrow.
"I selected a few mages from among the refugees," Deson explained. "They have some talent for mental perception and emotional manipulation, and I've been training them to form a special intelligence team. If we can capture the dwarves in this operation, perhaps… we can use mind magic to probe their memories. For example, the distribution of tunnels, the deployment of troops, or even the location where Viscount Solan is being held."
He lowered his voice: "Just like my teacher tried to do to you back then."
Paul paused for a moment, then nodded slightly: "Okay. But remember, don't drive them crazy. We need intelligence, not a bunch of dumbfounded stone heads."
"We'll handle it well." Deson breathed a sigh of relief, a hint of excitement flashing in his eyes.
He has not forgotten his origins; as a spellcaster skilled in mental magic, he has always longed to apply his expertise to practical work.
Paul suddenly asked again, "Given time, will your mental magic be able to completely control a person's mind, making him obedient and forget who he is?"
After a moment's thought, Deson cautiously replied, "Not yet, but if we can continue our research and find a deeper spiritual anchor... I think we have a good chance."
Paul suddenly grinned and patted Deson on the shoulder: "Ha! If you really manage to pull off such a spell, I'll have to call you 'Mr. Yuri' from now on."
He laughed heartily, as if he had remembered something extremely interesting.
Deson froze, confusion creeping onto his face. Yuri? He had indeed glimpsed that name in Paul's fragmented memories—vague, distant, accompanied by some cold, massive device capable of manipulating the will of millions. But he had never seen the whole picture, only knowing it was an entity related to "mind control," perhaps an ancient sage, or perhaps a pioneer of some lost technology.
He dared not ask any more questions, and only bowed his head and replied, "This subordinate... dares not compare himself to such a being."
Paul laughed even harder and waved his hand: "Hahaha, at least you're much more handsome than him. He's a big bald guy."
"Uh… okay." Deson laughed along.
As he left the room, the name Yuri still lingered in his mind. He increasingly felt that the world the lord came from was far more profound and incredible than he had glimpsed.
Two weeks later, at the Mountain Throat Fortress.
A metal wagon, pulled by four heavy draft horses and escorted by six cavalrymen, slowly drove into the south gate of the fortress.
The exterior walls of the carriage were covered with thick linen, the seams sealed with beeswax, and red triangular warning signs were prominently painted on both sides of the carriage—this was Lakeheart Town. The "high-risk goods" label is uniformly stipulated by the Military Industry Division of the Political Affairs Council.
Derrick Heller, accompanied by several officers, was waiting at the gate. He had previously received Paul's secret orders: a shipment of special military supplies was about to arrive, and the person in charge of escorting it was an Intelligence Department officer named Deson, who would cooperate with the Mountain Throat Fortress garrison in launching a military operation against the dwarves.
The carriage came to a stop, and a thin young man dressed in a gray woolen suit jumped off the driver's seat and bowed slightly to Derrick: "Colonel Heller, I am Derson Plante, Special Projects Coordinator of the Intelligence Department. I am here on Marquis's orders to transport five boxes of new explosives, totaling fifty pounds. This is the handover document, please take a look."
Derrick took the documents, checked the seal and seal number, and confirmed that they were correct. He looked at Deson and his few equally plain-dressed and taciturn followers behind him, assuming they were technology bureaucrats sent by Lakeheart Town, and nodded, saying, "Thank you for your hard work. Settle down first; it's windy tonight."
That evening, Deson and his four entourage were housed in a building near the armory. The explosives box was guarded by two men on rotation, and smoking was strictly prohibited. Deson instructed his men to rest for the night, as there was an important mission the next day.
The next morning, Derrick summoned the main officers of the camp to the parade ground. Deson arrived with two assistants carrying a sealed wooden box with a soft pad at the bottom, and they handled it with extreme care.
"Gentlemen," Deson began, "today we are demonstrating a new type of explosive personally overseen by Marquis. It is more powerful than black powder and is suitable for mountain assaults."
He personally took out a small sample of the demonstration medicine wrapped in kraft paper, and his assistant filled it into a drill hole in a test rock on the east side of the training ground. Then, he attached the long fuse, and everyone retreated to the bunker.
boom--!
The loud noise was much more muffled than Cannon's, but it was more penetrating. The ground shook violently, and rubble rained down. The granite block was now shattered into several pieces, with charred and molten edges, and the crater was half a meter deep.
The drill ground was deathly silent.
"This..." An artillery officer stared wide-eyed. "This isn't explosives, it's like a mountain god smashing a hammer!"
Derrick stared at the charred crater, the gloom on his face finally dissipating. He had been frustrated by the constant attacks and harassment from the dwarves these past few days, yet he dared not pursue them further.
The army of Mountain Throat Fortress once launched a probing attack on the dwarf tunnels, but suffered losses.
Now that we have this, even the deepest tunnels in the Rocky Mountains are no longer a barrier.
He turned to Deson, his tone now tinged with respect: "Mr. Plant, this thing... can really blow up a dwarf's cave?"
Deson nodded calmly: "As long as we know the entrance, one box is enough."