Deep in the Mountains, Forgefire City.
The Supreme Council Hall was a massive domed hall carved entirely through a black iron rock mountain. The four walls were inlaid with runic molten fire that had burned continuously since the ancestral era, claimed to never extinguish.
At this moment, all four clan seats were occupied.
"Mycelium Bouncing Puchi Fortress?" The patriarch of the Firebeard Clan stroked his thick beard, red as fire, his tone full of disdain. "What a garbage name. To put it bluntly, isn't it just the demon remnants in the Northern Territory who survived the cold wave, huddling together to set up a camp? Do they deserve to be called a faction? Are they worth us sitting here discussing them?"
He leaned his burly body back, making the cast iron chair groan.
The matriarch of the Zafa Clan, leaning on a staff, was the only female in the council hall. However, the thick and meticulously braided beard on her face was enough to make any outsider unable to discern her gender before she spoke.
She was obviously quite interested in the Mushroom Fortress of the Northern Territory: "This time is different. Didn't those mercenaries say that the one ruling that Mushroom Fortress isn't a demon, but a Mushroom Tribe member? Furthermore, Master Marco's handwritten letter clearly stated that there are actual ancient war dolls there, as well as some design blueprints that can still be analyzed. Based on this alone, it is worth sending someone to make contact."
"A fortress ruled by a mushroom monster, isn't that even more ridiculous?" Firebeard sneered, his beard trembling along with it. "Moreover, that place is poaching our blacksmiths; what good could it be? As for war dolls... even if that thing is given to you, you still have to be able to afford to use it! What? Are you going to dismantle the staff in your hand to drive the war doll?"
The patriarch of the Deepforge Clan, Thorin's father, slowly nodded at this moment. His stance was obviously similar to Firebeard's: "Perhaps it's another Empire conspiracy, secretly manipulating these tribes and waiting for us to take the bait."
Among the four major clan seats, only the patriarch of the Black Steel Clan remained completely silent from beginning to end. His entire body was wrapped in that thick runic iron armor inherited from his ancestors, so heavy that his human form was almost indistinguishable, making even the rise and fall of his breathing hard to detect.
To this, everyone present was already accustomed.
After a brief silence.
All eyes unanimously shifted to the head seat.
The Dwarven King sat upright on that throne forged from dragon bone and adamantine, not in a hurry to speak.
He slowly unrolled a new piece of intelligence held in his hand, displaying it before the clan patriarchs, and tapped it twice with his fingers wearing heavy iron rings.
"This is the recent movement of Eugene and Dean, those two Dukes in the north of the Empire. Not only have they dispatched troops to the Northern Territory, but they have also sent follow-up reinforcements recently. Our scouts observed from a close distance; the battle... is quite fierce."
The Zafa matriarch raised an eyebrow: "No wonder that Mushroom Fortress is so anxious to abduct blacksmiths, even wanting apprentices. Lacking weapons and armor, and being jointly suppressed by two Dukes, it must be quite difficult for them."
Deepforge patriarch: "Could this also be the Empire deliberately putting on an act for us to see?"
Zafa turned her face and chuckled lightly: "Putting on an act in the Northern Territory for who to see? Sending scouts requires wrapping up in three layers of fur just to dare approach. After acting for a long time, there might not even be an audience. You are a bit too paranoid."
The Deepforge patriarch countered sharply: "It's you who lacks wariness too much! That is a faction where demons are the majority. Even if they have conflicts with the Empire, it doesn't mean they can become our allies!"
"Enough."
The Dwarven King's voice wasn't loud, but it instantly quieted the council hall.
He looked around at the four patriarchs and made a decision: "Send a delegation to make contact. Figure out the bottom line of that Mushroom Fortress: military, resources, and the ruler's intentions. As for whether it is ruled by demons, mushrooms, or even a talking goblin, it doesn't matter. What matters is whether they are truly enemies of the Empire and can pin down the forces of two Dukes. If yes, then establishing diplomatic relations and providing appropriate aid and support can all be considered. The only enemy of the Mountains today is the Empire."
In other words, if the Mushroom Fortress didn't have the ability to pin down the Empire, then the Dwarven King would only let it live or die on its own.
Following the Dwarven King's order, a delegation was quickly assembled.
Logically speaking, for the first formal contact with a faction of unknown background, the delegation leader would usually be assigned to a middle-tier noble or a senior diplomatic civil official with sufficient seniority but who is not particularly important.
This way, even if an accident occurred, the loss would be within an acceptable range. However, under several inconspicuous mediations and hints from the Deepforge patriarch, the final confirmed candidate made many people secretly cast sidelong glances.
The dwarven war hero — Bardor Firebeard.
When the delegation list was pushed out, the Firebeard patriarch's brows almost twisted into a red caterpillar.
He opened his mouth, his coarse beard twitching, obviously quite dissatisfied that this "hero" of his own clan was pushed into such an errand.
But ultimately, he just let out a heavy "Hmph" from his nasal cavity, swallowing the objection that surged to his throat back down along with his ale.
The other three patriarchs remained silent. Silence itself was a form of expressing their stance.
After all, among those present, including Bardor's own Firebeard patriarch, there wasn't anyone who hadn't been publicly contradicted by this reckless brute.
Bardor's popularity among the mountain nobles could be said to be quite poor. Those who could truly call Bardor a brother were mostly guarding the front lines confronting the demons, rather than staying within the safe Forgefire City.
Therefore, when the Deepforge patriarch lightly pushed Bardor onto the position of delegation leader under the guise of "demonstrating the Mountains' emphasis on this diplomacy," no one spoke up to object.
As for Bardor himself, he didn't feel anything special about this at all, just treating it as an ordinary mission.
However, when the delegation arrived at the border, looking at that not-so-spacious tunnel...
Bardor glared at the deputy envoy and questioned: "What are you doing? Does our delegation have to crawl through a hole to get there? Isn't this throwing away the Mountains' face? Where is there such a cowardly delegation!"
The deputy envoy was also somewhat helpless: "But, Lord Bardor, if we don't detour through the hole, we will have to pass directly through the Empire's sphere of influence. Although it's the border, what if..."
"What do you mean 'what if'? If we encounter the Empire army, just slaughter them. If we really can't win, I'll bring up the rear, and you guys can escape first. Isn't that enough?!"
Since Bardor, the chief envoy, had said so, the others could only follow him and travel directly across the surface, just keeping their hearts in their throats the whole way, not getting a good night's sleep for three days.
Fortunately, Dean's attention was now completely attracted by the Magic Core dispute in the Northern Territory. Coupled with a bit of luck, Bardor and the others managed to cross over hugging the border.
Xinghuo, who had received the news early on and was waiting to welcome them near the tunnel exit, also showed a look of slight surprise upon seeing that the dwarven delegation actually crossed the border to come. But he quickly recovered to normal, leading his subordinates to greet them.
Unfolding the first truly meaningful diplomatic activity since the Mushroom Fortress was built.
(End of Chapter)
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