Stonemason Clan meeting hall.
The dim firelight illuminated Imar's wrinkled face, making him appear as if he had aged ten years in an instant.
The chieftain sat on his ancestral Black Rock Throne, his hands gripping the armrests tightly. The scout kneeling before him reported in a trembling voice, "Another main tunnel has been completely sealed off. Thirty-seven tribesmen have been buried alive inside. The exit has collapsed, and groundwater is flooding into the lower tunnels."
Humans even destroyed the "ancestral vein"—an ancient passage that had never been damaged since the mountains were first opened.
The council chamber was deathly silent.
For the Stonemason Clan, the tunnels were far more than just military fortifications; they were the backbone of their civilization, a lifeline painstakingly carved inch by inch into the hard rock by countless generations of dwarves with hammers, chisels, and their blood and sweat. Every fork in the road, every staircase, was etched with the family name and the legends of their ancestors.
This massive project has been underway since the ancestors of the dwarves settled in the Rocky Mountains, taking thousands of years to eventually form a labyrinthine sanctuary.
These tunnels once saved them from human slaughter and orc raids, and also sheltered them during times of famine so that they could continue their lineage.
But now, in just a few weeks, humanity has turned all of this into ruins with a power they cannot comprehend.
"Waaah, it's not an earthquake… it's not a landslide…" a surviving dwarf wailed. "It must be human magic, an evil spell that can tear rocks apart from the inside."
Imar slowly closed his eyes. He recalled the rubble that had been carried back—its edges charred black, some rocks as smooth as glass, marks only a hellish furnace could create. He didn't know what it was, but if humanity continued its reckless actions, Stonemason Clan would face destruction.
Imar felt as if his heart was being torn apart. What worried him even more was that if the ordinary people of his tribe learned that the tunnels to the outside world were disappearing one by one, the panic would destroy the foundation of the clan even faster than the human firearms.
He suddenly opened his eyes and gave a low, cold order: "Not a single piece of the bad news from these past few days is to be leaked. From now on, any news about the surface battle situation or the damage to the tunnels is to be blocked. Anyone who spreads nonsense will be punished for treason."
Several elders nodded silently, their faces equally ashen.
Imar gazed at the ancient star map reliefs on the dome—marks used by their ancestors to navigate the underground labyrinth, now turning into meaningless scratches as the tunnels collapsed.
After some deliberation, Imar personally received Centurion, an orc stationed in the territory —he was originally left by Abar to monitor the dwarves.
"Please convey to Great Chieftain Abar," Imar's voice was low and restrained, "that humanity has mastered a magic capable of instantly shattering mountains and splitting rocks. Our tunnels are being buried one by one by this evil magic, and my warriors have nowhere to hide. If the Rocky Mountains fall, Aldor's army will advance unimpeded into the southern flank of the plains. In the name of Chieftain Stonemason Clan, I request that he send troops to support us in resisting Glaeman's evil army."
"Humans actually managed to invade the mountains?" The orc Centurion suppressed his shock. He first bowed his head in agreement, indicating that he would immediately report the dwarf chieftain's request to the Great Chieftain.
However, after leaving the dwarf chieftain's residence, he did not act immediately. Instead, he conducted an investigation and gradually pieced together the truth from scattered information—a human emissary had been imprisoned by the Stonemason Clan for more than half a year.
Centurion, the orc, slammed his fist into the rock wall, burning with rage. "Fools! A bunch of stone heads, doing such a stupid thing!" he muttered under his breath.
He finally understood why humans had suddenly launched a massive attack on the Rocky Mountains; the dwarves' actions were nothing short of a resounding slap in the face to Paul Greiman.
Imar, at least ask yourself how you should handle this situation first!
" The Royal Tent is still gathering strength, waiting for the new batch of steppe cavalry to be fully trained, and waiting for those fickle tribes to win over... But now, these dwarves, for their own selfish reasons, have dragged the entire steppe into a new war!"
The orc Centurion immediately selected a messenger and ordered him to "rush to Steppe Royal Tent at full speed and tell the Great Chieftain that the Stonemason Clan is facing a great threat from the Aldor."
The messenger was about to leave when he was stopped again. The Centurion added, "Remind the Great Chieftain that humans have far more powerful weapons. The dwarven tunnels are as fragile as straw before them!"
He approached the dwarf chieftain again.
"You must release that human envoy immediately." Centurion's tone was firm, no longer concealing his command. "Please note, Chieftain, I am not making a request, but an order. Detaining him is tantamount to personally directing the Aldor's cannons toward the Rocky Mountains. Releasing him now might still allow time to make peace with Glaeman."
Imar's eyes blazed with fury: "Orders? You're ordering me around? I'm the chieftain of the Stonemason Clan, not some tribal leader from your plains!"
Centurion, the orc, glared angrily: "I represent the Great Chieftain Abar!"
" Abar? He won't do either!" the dwarf chieftain retorted.
"Have you forgotten who helped you seize the position of chieftain?" Centurion stepped closer. "Without the grace of Great Chieftain Abar, do you think you could act independently? Wake up, you stubborn stone! You detained that human messenger without even telling me—and now that something's happened, you want us to stand up for you?"
"I detained him because…" Imar hesitated for a moment, then could only argue, "It was for the safety of the entire mountain range! But what about you? You're only thinking about your own safety!"
"Safe?" Centurion sneered, mocking, "Chief, what's the situation now? Do you call the current situation safe?"
The two glared at each other, sparks seemingly flying in the air. Finally, Imar slammed his wine glass to the ground: "Get out! My people will not bow to anyone, including you orcs!"
Centurion stared at him for a moment, then said coldly, "You'll regret this." He then turned and left.
Imar stood alone in the darkness, the fire in the fireplace dying down, casting flickering light on his face. The anger in his chest slowly cooled, replaced by a deep sense of humiliation.
He recalled Centurion's words, "Without the grace of the Great Chieftain Abar, do you think you can act independently?" He remembered how he had humbly pleaded with the orcs to make trade between them fairer... Now, he stood in front of the orcs' enemies, guarding this mountain for them, and what he got in return was this condescending reprimand.
"Who... am I fighting for?" he murmured to himself.
Suddenly, a thought flashed through my mind like lightning—"Why don't I join the human race?"