"Belega, that guy, never misses a chance to get the upper hand with his words!" Ryan muttered to himself. Belega's eagerness to emphasize that he was a grandfather was just his way of trying to establish superiority. Since Ryan was the father of Devonshire, Belega wanted to be the grandfather, hoping to make Ryan seem smaller in comparison.
From a certain perspective, Belega's behavior wasn't entirely unreasonable. He was born over two hundred years ago into the Angrund clan. His father, Bejal-Ironhammer, had also perished in the war to reclaim Eight Peaks Mountain. Given his age, calling himself Ryan's elder wasn't incorrect. He just wanted to elevate himself through this means.
However, Belega had no idea about Ryan's origins; he simply saw him as a powerful human.
Ryan exchanged a glance with Angron, both shaking their heads helplessly. These dwarves! Even after losing their home, they still cared so much about saving face!
The two primarchs couldn't be bothered to argue with this prideful dwarf. Belega hugged little Devonshire, laughing heartily. He patted Devonshire's head, saying, "This is a strong little guy. He'll be a remarkable warrior in the future."
"A warrior, fighting bad guys, fighting Chaos, fighting greenskins, fighting vampires!" Little Devonshire waved his fists. The little guy's legs kicked the ground as he squirmed free from the embrace and ran towards Angron. "Uncle Angron, I want to see the puppies and the big cat!"
"Alright, I'll take you. But be careful, the big cat is very fierce." Angron set aside his previous discomfort, leading Devonshire inside.
Only now did Sulia step down from the carriage, joining the group. Belega, still happy to see Ryan, said, "Oh, Ryan brother, surely Grimnir's blessing was on your blade, and you've taken down another Chaos-chosen champion!"
"Tamu Khan's strength wasn't as invincible as imagined. His army had already suffered significant losses during their march south, so this battle wasn't particularly difficult," Ryan said with a smile. "King Belega, let's go inside and chat slowly."
"Mmhm, chat slowly. Dwarves love eating and talking at the same time. There's nothing more pleasant than discussing matters over meat and beer, oh, and crossing out entries in the Book of Grudges." Belega patted his belly. His wife, Comranik, and his son followed behind him. Comranik, like Belega, was sturdy and muscular. Then there was Comranik's son, Sorglin-Ironhammer, a fifty-year-old dwarf who had just recently come of age and still appeared a bit immature. Among dwarves, such young ones were called "little beards," implying they weren't mature or trustworthy enough yet.
His name was derived from the current High King of the Dwarves, Sorglin the Grudgebearer, who had supported Belega with ten thousand dwarf soldiers in the second war to reclaim Eight Peaks Mountain. To remember this favor, Belega named his son after the High King.
Ryan found this way of expressing gratitude quite odd.
The group entered Angron's farmhouse. After ten years of operation, Angron's farm had grown significantly. Many serfs had chosen to become tenants under Lord Angron, working on the farm. With it being late November, the offseason, most of the serfs had taken the opportunity to find odd jobs in the city or work at the workshops by the Chennon River. Only about a dozen serfs remained at the farm, repairing buildings and granaries, washing clothes, and preparing hides for the upcoming Winter Solstice Festival.
"Little doggies! Woof, woof!" Little Devonshire excitedly waved his small fists. Angron had two border collies from Oster, which had given birth to a litter of puppies after some breeding time. The puppies were running around Angron and little Devonshire, begging for food. Ryan noticed that the border collie named "Subaru," favored by Emilia, was the most active, running around with a stick in its mouth.
"Hehe, aren't the puppies cute?" Angron, very fond of his nephew, held Devonshire up to see the dogs. "This is the daddy dog, the mommy dog, and the puppy."
"Woof, woof, woof!" The border collies jumped around.
"And the big cat, Uncle Angron? I want to see the big cat too!" Little Devonshire was extremely excited.
"The big cat is over here." Angron, holding his nephew, led him to another building inside the farm.
"Big cat?" Ryan looked through the door of the house.
Ryan, Sulia, Belega, and the others soon had sweatdrops on their foreheads.
"Brother, you call this thing a cat?"
A giant beast, standing over a meter tall and more than two meters long, lay in a haystack. Its fur was a mix of golden yellow and black, with fiery eyes. Its body was thick and well-proportioned, with muscles rippling across its back and forelimbs as it moved. Its massive limbs moved with calm precision, and sharp claws were exposed, exuding a majestic presence.
Notably, this giant beast had two large tusks, bigger than those of a wild boar, resembling two inverted short swords. Hearing the commotion, the beast instinctively became alert, flipping over in an instant, ready to fight.
"Rooar~" Seeing that it was Angron, the beast let out a few low growls before lying back down.
"How about it, isn't the big cat cute?" Angron introduced proudly. "I found it injured while adventuring in the Grey Mountains. I thought I needed a hunting companion, so I brought it back. We used to have problems with rats and wild rabbits stealing grain from the estate, but since I got this big cat, those problems are gone."
"This is clearly a saber-toothed tiger... Brother has a very unique way of thinking." Ryan was speechless. He glanced at Sulia, who smiled helplessly. The female knight walked over, took her husband's hand, and said with a smile, "As long as Brother likes it."
"I want to pet it! I want to pet the big cat!" Little Devonshire, drooling, reached out his small hand, "Let me pet it!"
"No! Devonshire, it's dangerous!" Sulia quickly intervened.
"It's okay, pet away! This big cat has been trained by me. It won't bite." Angron waved dismissively. Indeed, as he said, when Devonshire's small hand touched the saber-toothed tiger's furry head, the tiger had a resigned expression. Apart from a few low growls from deep in its throat, it let Devonshire pet it freely, without any resistance.
"Look, you can even squeeze it!" Angron then grabbed the saber-toothed tiger's face with his other hand, kneading it. The tiger, too, passively let itself be squeezed, only whimpering afterward. Angron immediately took out a whole five-kilogram slab of pork and placed it on the ground, playing with his nephew and the big cat for a while longer. "My dear nephew, isn't the big cat fun?"
"So fun, so fun~" Little Devonshire remained excited for a long time.
Angron's estate was home to all kinds of animals—chickens, ducks, geese, pigs, cattle, sheep, and even donkeys. The group took a brief tour and witnessed firsthand how the saber-toothed tiger hunted a wild rabbit before heading into the main house. Inside, a large table was already set with a farmhouse feast of wild meats and several barrels of Bagman black beer. The dwarves' short stools had all been heightened, and the border collies rushed into the room, sitting by the table, waiting for scraps.
Everyone enjoyed a hearty dinner.
Devonshire drank a large bowl of goat's milk and a vegetable porridge. The little guy, having played hard all day, fell asleep within minutes of finishing his meal. After clearing the table, Angron, Ryan, Sulia, Belega, and Belega's chief engineer, Harhaft the Gold Digger, sat down together.
It was time to discuss business.
"I will ascend to the throne in Couronne on the Lady of the Lake's birthday next year," Ryan told Belega. "Then, a new chivalric expedition will be launched in the name of the king. I will gather a large army of knights and join you in the expedition to reclaim Eight Peaks Mountain."
"By Grimnir's beard! Ryan, my brother, you are true to your word." Belega, also full from the meal, sat in his elevated chair. "We still need time on our end to produce a batch of rune armor and weapons to re-equip my guards and the Iron Brotherhood's hammer warriors. And, Ryan, my brother, you can just call me Belega from now on."
"Alright, Belega. Can you tell me more about the situation at Eight Peaks Mountain?" Ryan nodded. The campaign to reclaim Eight Peaks was unlike any previous war. This would be a grand expedition where knights would venture deep into hostile lands to help the dwarves reclaim their homeland.
Belega began to detail the history and situation of Eight Peaks Mountain. He and his men even presented a meticulously crafted model to help Ryan and the others understand why Eight Peaks was so difficult to reclaim and why the Angrund clan had struggled for centuries without success.
"The structure of Eight Peaks Mountain is unlike most dwarven fortresses," Belega explained. "Ryan, Lady Sulia, you have seen that most dwarven fortresses are built inside mountains or on peaks, hollowing out the mountains' interiors. This
is the traditional architecture of dwarven citadels. But the Eight Peaks Mountain fortress is different."
"Eight Peaks Mountain is a collection of eight dwarven citadels built on a plateau surrounded by eight towering peaks, hence the name. These peaks are so high that they are almost impossible to climb, leaving only one entrance to the plateau from the surface. The eight citadels are built directly against the peaks, both on the surface and extending underground."
"Even if we breach the main gate, we would only be entering the interior of the plateau. There are eight citadels on the plateau, each filled with a staggering number of greenskins. These citadels are connected by mountain passages, pathways across the plateau, and underground tunnels. Even if we manage to defeat the main greenskin force, we would still face nearly endless waves of greenskin troops within the citadels. Additionally, the underground tunnels of Eight Peaks are infested with Skaven."
"And our enemies include the self-proclaimed 'Warlord of Eight Peaks,' the Night Goblin warlord Skarsnik, and the self-styled 'War God of Eight Peaks,' the Skaven warlord, Quik Headtaker of Clan Mors."
As Belega spoke, Ryan and Sulia both frowned deeply.
Eight Peaks Mountain was a magnificent fortress. The Angrund clan had never imagined that their greatest and most glorious citadel would be overrun. The once impregnable citadels and their complex defensive structures, now turned into nightmares for the dwarves, had become traps. They had to fight on two fronts against greenskins and Skaven while trying to reclaim their fortresses.
"King Belega, you mentioned that there are at least hundreds of thousands of greenskins in Eight Peaks Mountain. But how many Skaven are there?" Sulia asked.
"Quik Headtaker, the right hand of Clan Mors, leads around one hundred thousand Skaven stationed in the depths of Eight Peaks Mountain. They have already used many secret methods and poisons to contaminate the underground water sources," Belega nodded, his voice heavy. "That damned Quik, I must kill him to avenge my countless kin."
"A hundred thousand?" Ryan mused for a moment, slightly relieved as the number was less than he had feared.
"Ryan, Skaven aren't like greenskins. Greenskins can survive just by basking in the sun," Belega seemed to have guessed what Ryan was thinking, and he said in a muffled voice, "Theoretically, Skaven can reproduce infinitely. But in reality, their numbers are limited by food supply. Without an unlimited food source, there can't be too many Skaven. What we really need to worry about are the Skaven's vicious war machines and evil warpstone weapons."
"So, overall, we need to face two main enemies: tens of thousands of greenskins led by the Night Goblin warlord Skarsnik and around one hundred thousand Skaven of Clan Mors led by Quik Headtaker," Ryan summarized.
This would be an extremely tough battle. Belega's Angrund clan, after enduring countless hardships, might not even muster five thousand regular dwarf soldiers. On the Bretonnian side, after years of war, the country needed time to recover. Moreover, due to the nature of a grand expedition, logistics would be a significant challenge. Ryan couldn't afford to deploy his best troops.
At best, counting any mercenaries Belega might hire, support from Blackheart Rep, and possible participation from the wood elves, the expeditionary force would not exceed fifty thousand. A number closer to forty thousand seemed more realistic.
This was troubling. Even though dwarves were brave and Bretonnian knights were the most powerful heavy cavalry in the Old World, reclaiming Eight Peaks Mountain would still be a grueling war. Ryan understood the difficulty of this campaign, and the expeditionary force would be isolated and without reinforcements.
The group fell silent for a while.
"Belega, you mentioned this warlord Skarsnik. How formidable is he?" Ryan asked after a moment of thought.
"It's not about whether he's formidable. It's that he's the kind of... very rare kind..."
"Cunning and ruthless."
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