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Chapter 317 - Chapter 317: Mahakam’s Golden Shackles

After listening to Rayla tell about the incident between the dwarves and King Foltest, Geralt more or less understood how King Demavend got the dwarven ring.

"I assume His Majesty Demavend helped the dwarves?" he asked.

"That's right," Rayla confirmed. "His majesty managed to dissuade King Foltest from sending troops. In gratitude, the Great Elder of the dwarves gave him a Lead Ring as a symbol of friendship."

Geralt nodded in understanding and commented, "I had heard that Mahakam was extremely closed to outsiders, but now I see that they do not completely reject humans. It seems that if a human offers them help, they may also respond with friendship."

Rayla let out a light laugh, causing Geralt to look at her curiously.

"Excuse me, Mr. Geralt, I didn't mean to be rude," she said, "But in reality, it wasn't Mahakam who received the favor, but Temeria. When you see the dwarven fortress, you'll understand that no human force could conquer it. If Temeria had really launched a military campaign, it would only have suffered huge losses and a considerable weakening of the kingdom."

Geralt frowned, finding the situation somewhat confusing. "If that's true, then why did the Great Elder give the Lead Ring to Demavend?"

Rayla was silent for a moment before answering, "Because within Temeria there are a great number of dwarves. If the Temerian army returned defeated, those dwarves would undoubtedly pay the consequences. Besides…" she hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I don't like to say this, but Brouver Hoog is an extremely cunning man, even more so than many monarchs of the North. Gifting that ring to His Majesty Demavend gave him other advantages."

"I also hope that you can remind Duke Lannister in time, so that he is not confused by preconceived ideas about dwarves. He must tread carefully during negotiations."

Although humans tended to perceive dwarves as a frank and loyal people, no group or race had a uniform personality. Yennefer, for example, had entrusted her fortune to a dwarven banker Geralt had met on a few occasions. In his opinion, this dwarf was more calculating than most of the human merchants he had encountered.

Geralt nodded again. His doubts had been resolved and, not being a man of many words, silence fell between them.

As Yarpen and his group continued to sing ballads about him, Lann realized that he would be unable to stop the dwarves' outpouring, so he simply let them continue their singing.

However, the ballad soon stopped and was replaced by exclamations of joy.

There, among the snowy peaks and steep paths, a robust figure awaited them.

It was a dwarf, who was undoubtedly someone Yarpen had contacted in advance.

Yarpen let out a hearty laugh before launching himself into a tight hug with the newcomer.

"Gabor, my cousin! It's been so long since we last saw each other! I'm back!"

"Your screaming is still just as awful, Yarpen. Do you really consider that a song?"

Unlike Yarpen, Gabor had a deeper, more measured tone of voice. Although he shared the distinctive robustness and frankness of his race, his manner was much more refined and courteous.

After greeting Yarpen, Gabor looked at the group behind him, then his gaze fell on the figure of the leader: Lann.

"You must be the legendary Lion of Cintra, Duke Lannister," Gabor said with a slight nod. "I am Gabor Zigrin, a diplomat sent to greet you. The Grand Elder has long awaited your arrival."

Lann returned the gesture with courtesy, studying the dwarf discreetly.

He wore dark grey iron armour, covered with a fur cloak with a white wool collar. His appearance conveyed a feeling of solidity and reliability.

He shared the same surname as Yarpen, Zigrin, one of the most influential families among the dwarves. According to Yarpen, Gabor enjoyed great prestige and was often in charge of receiving foreign dignitaries.

However, due to Mahakam's isolationist policy, his diplomatic efforts were limited, and he could go for years without conducting any negotiations.

"Rayla, it's been a while," Gabor said, looking away at the Aedirn emissary. "We had no news of an official visit from His Majesty Demavend."

"I accompany Duke Lannister as a guide." Rayla explained, raising her left hand. "Also, I'm bringing this."

In her hand, she revealed the Lead Ring, symbol of the alliance between Aedirn and Mahakam.

Gabor muttered to himself, "The Lead Ring… It's usually enough to gain an audience with the Great Old One. But I doubt the Lannister Duke needs this."

His words were lost in the icy wind, inaudible to Rayla, but not to Lann, who smiled discreetly.

It seems that the effect of those lost equipment blueprints is good.

After a brief exchange of greetings, Gabor glanced towards the back of the group, as if he were looking for someone. After a few seconds, he asked Yarpen, somewhat disappointedly: "Zoltan hasn't returned?"

Yarpen waved his hand indifferently. "He said that going back just to climb mountains wasn't worth it. In the end, he wouldn't see his family anyway, so he preferred not to come… He's quite a stubborn guy."

Dwarves are a highly traditional and closed-minded race. Their current leader, the great elder Brouver Hoog, has ruled them for over two hundred years, dictating with a firm hand what a dwarf should and should not do, like an inflexible patriarch regulating every aspect of daily life.

Zoltan had complained about this more than once while drinking in Cintra: There is no freedom in Mahakam. You have no idea how that old bastard runs things. Lately, he has taken it into his head to impose some ridiculous so-called community rules. For example, you cannot wear braces; if you make fish soup, you must wait five minutes before eating it; before you ask permission to get married, you must have worked twenty years; after going to the bathroom, you can only wipe yourself with your right hand; and if you are within twenty meters of a mine, whistling is prohibited…

But what most exasperated the freedom-loving dwarves was the system of so-called collective work.

Each dwarf was required to work in the mines for at least forty years. In return, they were paid in a special currency called drilled gold, which could only be used within Mahakam. It takes six huge chests full of drilled gold to exchange for a single pouch of real gold. According to rumors, the elders set up this system precisely to make it difficult for the dwarves to leave Mahakam, thus discouraging any attempts to leave.

As a result, many talented dwarves chose to leave Mahakam. Some, like Yarpen and his group, preferred adventure. Others, like Zoltan, turned to trade, while some became skilled dwarven artisans or bankers.

"Doesn't your grand elder fear that the most talented dwarves will eventually leave?" Kolgrim asked in amazement. For him, it would be unthinkable to live under such a strict regime.

Gabor shook his head and explained, "When dwarves reach adulthood, they have the opportunity to make a choice: they can return to Mahakam within the allotted time and never leave again, or stay away forever, with no chance of returning."

It was a story Gabor had told many times to visitors to Mahakam. And he always did so with the same passion, showing no signs of annoyance.

"I was one of those dwarves who decided to return after exploring the outside world," he continued. "There was a time when I also cursed the great elder while drinking, but after seeing how dwarves live outside Mahakam, I began to understand it. That's why I decided to return and contribute to my homeland."

He shrugged and added calmly, "Of course, I respect other people's decisions. Mahakam also needs talented compatriots to carry the voice of the dwarves to the outside world."

As he spoke, he looked at Yarpen. His team of dragon hunters were a clear example of those dwarves who had chosen never to return.

Yarpen's group was not only renowned among the dwarves outside Mahakam but was considered one of the most notable. Their dragon-hunting exploits had already been immortalized in ballads, and there was no doubt that they would continue to forge their own legend in the future.

As they chatted, the group crossed the halfway point of the mountain road and spotted a small tavern surrounded by huts and tents. It was undoubtedly a resting point for travelers.

Mahakam was full of dwarves who had to cross mountains in their daily work, and that place was one of the many temporary shelters they used to rest.

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