Inside the cell, the embers of the torch cast a final, flickering shadow on the stone wall.
Helson sat in the dark corner, his thoughts like an underground current, slowly gathering and taking shape.
He recalled the conversation he had in the Marquis's study before he set off.
Standing before the massive map, Paul Greiman traced the outline of the Rocky Mountains with his finger and said in a low voice, "We Aldor people always thought that mountain ridge was a natural barrier bestowed by the Lord of Light. As long as this great wall existed, the savage orcs of the plains could not invade the garden of our civilization. But the orcs still broke in. They traversed mountain paths unknown to us and pounced into the heart of the kingdom like wolves. At that moment, I understood—this mountain range is not a wall unless it belongs entirely to us."
He remembered the look in the Marquis's eyes as he turned away: " Helson, as long as these mountain roads that can support a large army are not in our hands, Aldor will never sleep soundly."
He then asked, "But those neutral clans have never been our enemies. Are we going to use force against them too?"
The Marquis did not answer him directly, but said, "I don't want enemies, I want control. Whoever controls those mountain passes controls the fate of the North. The Stonemason Clan is on the side of the Orcs, and Abar can take a shortcut to attack our heartland at any time, while we can only retaliate against him by going around that huge mountain range that runs east to west."
Helson knew that the Stonemason Clan might be willing to negotiate, but as long as they still controlled those hidden mountain passes, and as long as they had an alliance with the orcs, even if they bowed down now, they could still become a fulcrum of the blade once the situation changed in the future, providing the Abar on the plains with the gateway to Aldor.
Helson slowly closed his eyes, feeling that he had figured out the key point.
For Aldor, the most favorable outcome is not restoring peace with the dwarves, but rather gaining complete control over passage through the Rocky Mountains.
Now, the Ausser Army possesses a means to destroy the dwarven tunnels. Judging from Imar's anxious words, the human army has penetrated deep into the mountains, and the Stonemason Clan is suffering repeated defeats. If they advance just one more step, this entire mountain range will fall into Aldor's hands.
In this situation, if he were to promote "peace," it would mean that Aldor would voluntarily give up this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Those undiscovered mountain paths will remain hidden deep within the mountains, and one day in the future, a large army may emerge from the mountains and storm into the heart of Aldor.
In the darkness, Helson slowly straightened his back.
He cannot allow Imar a respite; the Ausser Army may postpone its offensive due to diplomatic progress.
This is quite possible. According to his nephew, the military and political officials in Lakeheart Town privately complained that Marquis was too weak on certain issues. Although Marquis often talked big—for example, he expressed his ambition to control the Rocky Mountains to Helson —his actions were often quite different.
If peace is restored, the Stonemason Clan will repair the remaining tunnels, reorganize the defenses, and may even secretly re-establish contact with the Orcs, leaving Aldor's northern borders exposed to unknown threats once again. What use is such peace?
But if he further angered Imar, the enraged dwarf chieftain might execute him on the spot.
But Helson weighed the options: his own sacrifice would be a key, as the killing of an official envoy would undoubtedly put the Marquis of Glaeman in an awkward position.
The Ausser Army will have no more scruples and, in the name of revenge, will completely raze every Stonemason Clan stronghold and control all mountain roads.
The Rocky Mountains will no longer be a corridor for the orcs to move south, but will become a springboard for the Aldor's northward expedition.
As for himself... he may die deep underground, and no one knows his final choice.
But the Helson family will not be forgotten. An envoy who died for the kingdom's interests will have his name engraved on the monument in Lakeheart Town, and the Helson family will gain unprecedented prestige and protection in the political arena.
He gently stroked the family crest in his sleeve, making up his mind.
The next morning.
Imar sat on the throne, his fingers tapping impatiently on the armrest.
The door opened, and Helson, his hands and feet in shackles, was brought in. He remained upright, and his face showed no signs of a prisoner's haggardness, but rather an almost cold calmness.
Imar asked in a deep voice, "Human, have you thought about it all night and decided to write a letter?"
Helson stood in the hall, neither bowing nor scraping. He looked directly at the dwarf chieftain, a slight smile playing on his lips, as if he had heard a ridiculous request.
"You want peace?" he spoke slowly, his voice low but each word clear. "Do you think you still have the right to talk about peace?"
Imar frowned, a hint of anger appearing on his face.
Helson continued, " Aldor will not accept an armistice offered by the defeated. What we need is not negotiation, but surrender, complete surrender."
He took a half step forward, his tone suddenly turning cold: "There is only one condition for peace— the Stonemason Clan must completely submit to the Kingdom of Aldor. Not like you are currently subservient to the orcs, merely a loose vassal relationship, but formally incorporated into the kingdom's territory, handing over all tunnel maps, accepting the administrative officials sent by Lakeheart Town, swearing allegiance to Marquis Glaeman, and being conscripted and taxed, just like the kingdom's subjects. From now on, the Rocky Mountains will no longer be the dwarves' private domain, but Aldor's northern fortress."
After he finished speaking, the hall fell silent.
Imar suddenly stood up, his eyes wide open, as if he had been hit in the chest by a heavy hammer.
His face turned from pale to red, and his beard trembled slightly with anger. He never expected that this prisoner could say such a thing.
"What…what did you say?" His voice was low and hoarse, almost squeezed out from between his teeth. "Let us…let humans rule us? Let us hand over the mountain paths our ancestors carved out over thousands of years? Let us pay taxes and serve like serfs?"
He slammed his hand on the armrest of the throne, his roar causing the torches to flicker: "How dare you speak such words to me?! You are nothing but a prisoner! A dead man who will rot in the ground tomorrow!"
Helson stood still, without even blinking.
"You can kill me," he said calmly, "but killing me will only bring the Ausser Army here faster and more brutally. They will say— Sir Helson, a messenger of peace, was brutally murdered by dwarves at the negotiating table. Then your clan and this hall of yours will be blown to smithereens. And my name will be etched on the Wall of Heroes in Lakeheart Town. Your people will forever bear the stigma of a messenger killer."
Imar stared intently at him, his chest heaving violently, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms.
He wanted to pounce on the human and strangle him with his own hands, but the prisoner had already sealed his fate with his words.