When the iron gate to the cave opened, Solan Helson was sitting on a straw mat wiping a family crest—the only keepsake the guards had allowed him to keep.
Two dwarf guards walked in, their tone fairly polite: "The chieftain wants to see you. Come with us."
He stood up and dusted off his robes. For the past two months, he hadn't eaten well, of course, compared to his previous life as a nobleman. In prison, he was able to eat coarse bread, stew, and water. Although he had lost weight, he was still quite healthy.
When he was first detained, he thought he would die in some dark cave or be tortured to the point of mental breakdown as a hostage, but that was not the case.
The dwarves guarding him, though rude in speech, never laid a hand on him. An old soldier named Brock even came often to chat, telling stories of the mines or complaining about the heavy taxes levied by the orcs.
Helson remained vigilant—he knew this was a common tactic for intelligence gathering—so he always kept the conversation brief and never mentioned military affairs, the political situation, or the true nature of Lakeheart Town.
But he gradually realized that these dwarves were not bad people. They were law-abiding, respected their ancestors, and did not abuse their power against prisoners. If they were not hostile, they could even be described as simple and honest.
At this moment, he was led into a slightly larger stone chamber, in the center of which burned a charcoal fire. Imar sat on the Black Rock Throne, wearing a dark gray wool cloak, his beard embroidered with battle patterns, his expression majestic and arrogant.
" Sir Helson," he began, his voice sharp as the friction of rocks, "I have summoned you here to discuss a way for our two races to coexist."
Helson was slightly taken aback, almost thinking he had misheard.
Peace?
The clan chief who had imprisoned him for two months actually took the initiative to propose peace?
He suppressed his astonishment and bowed respectfully: "Chief, if you intended to make amends, you should have let me go long ago. The delay has only worsened the relationship between us."
"That's because you've been pressing me relentlessly!" Imar sneered, then realized his mistake and quickly added, "...But now, I can consider releasing you as a sign of my sincerity."
Helson's gaze sharpened.
A flaw flashed in the other party's words—"You're pressing me too hard," "Now I can consider it"... Interesting.
He asked calmly, "What does the clan chief mean by 'pressing us step by step'?"
Imar frowned deeply, seemingly regretting saying so much, but still forced himself to continue: "Human armies invaded the Eastern Rocky Mountains, destroyed our tunnels, and slaughtered my people. If I hadn't ordered restraint, the war would have already spread!"
Helson's heart skipped a beat.
Blow up the tunnel?
Before his imprisonment, Lakeheart Town and the Stonemason Clan had not yet engaged in combat. Now, Imar has personally admitted that the Ausser Army has attacked and used methods capable of destroying underground tunnels.
Helson knew that before he set off, Lord Glaeman had already ordered the research into a new type of explosive that was more powerful than gunpowder, with the aim of destroying the dwarves' tunnels.
It seems the research on the new explosive has been successful.
Lakeheart Town has already taken action, and the methods they've used are far more drastic than he imagined.
However... the dwarves are a race that is a little too straightforward. I only tested them slightly, and they revealed the real reason for summoning me.
He remained expressionless, simply saying, "If there is indeed military action, it must be because your side detained the envoy..."
Imar waved his hand impatiently to interrupt him: "Damn it, I don't have time to waste with you. I want to negotiate."
The crackling charcoal fire in the stone chamber cast flickering light on Imar's face.
"Write a letter," he stared at Helson, his tone leaving no room for argument, "in your name, to that Glaeman in Lakeheart Town. Say that the Stonemason Clan is willing to release you and initiate peace talks, on the condition that humanity immediately ceases its attacks and withdraws from the Rocky Mountains region."
Helson stood still, his hands clasped in front of him, his expression calm: "Chief, this matter is of great importance, and I need to consider it carefully."
"Consider?" Imar slammed his hand on the armrest of the throne, his voice rising abruptly. "I gave you a way out, and you still dare to bargain? Who do you think you are? A prisoner! A dead man who can be buried in the rocks at any moment!"
His roar echoed through the stone walls, causing the guards to involuntarily shrink back. Imar's chest heaved, his eyes a mixture of anger and anxiety. He was already humiliated by bowing to humans, and now this prisoner dared to delay, which was simply trampling on his last shred of dignity.
"You dare not write?" He took a step closer, his voice low and rumbling like thunder. "Then you'll never get out. I'll lock you in the deepest mine, where you'll never see the light of day, and no one will know where you are. You'll rot in this mountain like a piece of discarded ore, and even your bones will never return to your homeland."
Helson did not back down.
He looked directly into Imar's eyes and said slowly, "If I write this letter now, it will become a tool for you to coerce Lakeheart Town. That's not peace talks, that's blackmail. I'd rather rot here than let my name become a pretext for war."
"Besides, do you really think I have such great influence to change Lord Glaeman's will? Please don't forget my original purpose for coming here— the Stonemason Clan provided assistance to the orc army in passing through the Rocky Mountains. Heh, are you going to deny it now?"
"This..." The dwarf chieftain's face flushed red and then turned pale. "It's not that we can't discuss the matter of the orcs."
Helson concluded that the dwarves were truly driven to the brink of despair.
Then he said something that almost made the other person explode: "Even so, I need to think about it!"
Imar stared intently at him, his fists clenched. He desperately wanted to order this arrogant human to be pushed off a bottomless cliff, but reason held him back.
If Helson dies, humanity will never let it go, and the current Stonemason Clan can no longer withstand repeated explosions.
Finally, he gritted his teeth and spat out, "You have one night."
He turned his back to Helson, refusing to look at him again: "Take him back. I want to see the letter before sunrise tomorrow, or you can prepare to spend the rest of your life in darkness."
The guards escorted Helson back to the prison, and the iron gates slammed shut.
The chains rattled softly. Helson slowly sat back on the straw mat, the torchlight flickering on his face. He didn't immediately think about how to write the letter, but instead closed his eyes, letting his thoughts sink into the depths.
If... Imar lets him go back and promises to sever ties with the orcs, then the Ausser Army will cease its attack and peace will be restored between the two sides.
This sounds like the end of a crisis, a diplomatic victory.
He will return as an envoy, with a promise of peace, washing away the humiliation of his capture, and may even be rewarded for it.
But is this really the best ending?