What exactly had gone on in the cabin? Ryan didn't know, and frankly, he didn't want to know. His primary goal was to escape the battleground brewing between the Lady of the Lake and the Lake Witch. He didn't want to get involved, let alone be the judge.
It wasn't because Ryan was some kind of heartless rogue. The dynamic between the Lady of the Lake and Morgiana was that of master and servant. Morgiana's powers were entirely granted by the goddess. Lilith's authority over Morgiana was both natural and legitimate. Furthermore, based on their established relationship and the agreements made during the infamous "Thanksgiving Feast," Ryan was confident that things wouldn't escalate into physical conflict. At most, it would be an exchange of harsh words.
The deck of the ship was neither very spacious nor very crowded. A few Red Navy sailors, experienced in navigating these waters, were adjusting the sails. The captain, an old Sea God Knight, greeted Ryan. He informed him that it would take at least a week to reach Dragon City, even with the detailed nautical charts and compass provided by the dwarfs of Dragon City.
As Ryan walked, he noticed two young dwarf "beardlings" standing on the deck, admiring the ocean scenery through their telescopes. One was Thorgrim Ironhammer Jr., eldest son of Belagar, and the other was Jed the Honest, son of the renowned runesmith master Sludd the Honest.
"Oh-ho, it's King Ryan!" Thorgrim Jr. exclaimed, peering through his telescope at the icy sea and the shoreline littered with floating ice. "Look over there, Your Majesty. There's a Minotaur sleeping on the beach!"
"A Minotaur? I am the god of purity and justice! Where is it?" Ryan also took out a monocular telescope and quickly spotted the large Minotaur. It had clearly eaten its fill and was now fast asleep, leaning against a giant boulder on the shoreline.
"Right there, see?" Thorgrim Jr. loaded a bullet into his long-barreled dwarven rifle, aimed for a while, and then sighed in frustration. "Too far. By Grimnir's beard, my gun can't reach it."
"Let me give it a try," Ryan said, setting down his telescope. He began concentrating his psychic energy.
But as he summoned his powers, a wave of emptiness swept through him. Ryan felt an unsettling hollowness in his body, a sensation that spread throughout. He couldn't help but think, So this is probably what the Emperor feels like after sitting on the Golden Throne for so long.
It took him a while, but eventually, Ryan managed to form a gleaming silver spear, shimmering with psychic energy.
"Go!" With a flick of his wrist, the spear shot out like a silver comet, slicing through the ocean air. Mid-flight, it split into eight psychic bolts, which struck the Minotaur in eight critical points simultaneously. Amid the crackling lightning and swirling vortex of psychic light, the beast let out a final cry and died in its sleep.
"Ahaha! King Ryan's aim is as impeccable as ever!" Thorgrim Jr. and Jed clapped enthusiastically. Although these two beardlings were roughly Ryan's age (if not a bit older), they looked up to him with a mix of reverence and admiration.
Young dwarfs were generally less stubborn than their elders. These "beardlings" were more open to new ideas and eager to explore, often serving as the vanguard for innovation and new technologies. However, both the Runesmith Guild and the Engineers' Guild were dominated by old, white-bearded dwarfs. These elders were notoriously conservative, resistant to change, and highly skeptical of progress. They often dismissed the innovations and creative ideas of younger dwarfs.
The only two things that could drive dwarven technological advancement were:
Necessity, often arising from external threats, military demands, or royal decrees. Competition, particularly when humans or elves developed groundbreaking technologies. Unable to tolerate being outdone, the white-bearded elders would then scramble to innovate and surpass their rivals, just to prove that dwarven technology was indeed the best.
As a result, younger dwarfs often found their efforts stifled, whether under the guise of "protection" or outright suppression.
Thorgrim Jr., however, was different. Having followed his father Belagar through years of exile, he had seen, experienced, and learned things most white-bearded dwarfs never would in their lifetimes. Like his ancestor, the legendary High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer, who had once traveled the Old World as a youth, Thorgrim Jr. possessed a deeper understanding of both dwarven society and the state of the world.
Belagar, recognizing his son's potential, had sent him to accompany Ryan. It was a way to both broaden his horizons and ensure his safety.
"King Ryan, why did you decide to negotiate with the dwarfs of Dragon City?" Thorgrim Jr. asked, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He sounded hesitant. "To be honest, they're not the easiest bunch to deal with. You should be prepared for their trials."
"Trials?" Ryan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Thorgrim Jr., what do you know about the dwarfs of Dragon City?"
"Hmm…" Thorgrim Jr. scratched his beard thoughtfully. "You've probably already heard most of the backstory from the High King or my father. But I can tell you this—when the High King invited the Dragon City dwarfs to return to the Old World, they refused. Besides economic reasons, such as the rich mineral deposits in the Norscan mountains, their leader, Grand Thane Thorgard the Crimson, made a peculiar demand."
"What kind of demand?" Ryan asked, now genuinely curious.
"One north, one south. One Great King, one High King," Thorgrim Jr. sighed. "Obviously, that was a non-starter. Thorgard was only willing to concede in terms of seniority, addressing the High King as 'Uncle.'"
"Pfft!" Ryan nearly burst out laughing.
Indeed, under such conditions, it was no wonder the negotiations fell apart.
The origins of the Dragon City dwarfs had already been explained in previous chapters, so Ryan didn't dwell on them. He did note, however, that the Dragon City dwarfs were descendants of the original expeditionary forces who had followed the three dwarven gods—Grungni, Grimnir, and Valaya—to close the Chaos Gates. After discovering rich mineral deposits in Norsca, many of these dwarfs chose to settle there. Thanks to timely warnings from Grungni during the Great Chaos Invasion, they had prepared sufficiently to survive the onslaught. Unlike their southern kin, they avoided the catastrophic losses of the War of the Beard and the following cataclysms.
However, as Thorgrim Jr. pointed out, the Dragon City dwarfs had grown accustomed to independence over thousands of years. They saw no reason to reintegrate into the Karaz Ankor system under the High King's authority. Why accept an overlord when they could govern themselves?
And yet, they couldn't deny the High King's legitimacy. The Eternal Peak's royal lineage was unimpeachable, tracing back to Snorri Whitebeard, the first High King and direct descendant of Grungni and Valaya.
This rigid adherence to tradition was a hallmark of dwarven culture. Unlike humans or elves, where individuals of humble origins could sometimes rise to power, dwarven society was strictly hierarchical. Nobility and leadership were literally in their blood.
To the dwarfs, this wasn't just acceptable—it was a point of pride. If Ryan tried to explain to Thorgrim Jr. concepts like meritocracy or social mobility, the beardling wouldn't feel insulted. On the contrary, he'd likely boast about his high "Zhao content," reveling in his privileged lineage.
Such attitudes were deeply ingrained, and ironically, they worked. For example, all dwarven runesmiths had to possess Grungni's bloodline to wield rune magic, making their guild less of an organization and more of a sprawling family alliance.
After chatting with Thorgrim Jr. and Jed for a while, Ryan learned that they, too, had been influenced by their exposure to the wider world. Thorgrim Jr., in particular, believed that the Norscan mountains were no longer as safe or prosperous as they once were. He felt the dwarfs needed to unite.
"Any news from Belagar?" Ryan asked, shifting the topic. "It's been years since the Eight Peaks Expedition."
"Years? That's hardly any time at all!" Thorgrim Jr. chuckled. "You're too impatient, Your Majesty. My father spent over a century preparing to reclaim Karak Eight Peaks. It'll take time to rebuild."
Ryan was momentarily reminded of the dwarfs' vastly different sense of time. To them, a few years was barely a blink.
"Oh, but there's news from Sea Gate," Thorgrim Jr. said, pulling out a letter. "The Engineers' Guild there says your second ironclad is complete."
"Excellent!" Ryan's eyes lit up. Looking out over the Kislev Bay, he began contemplating the impact this steel behemoth would have on Bretonnia's naval power.
But what should he name the ship?
HMS Glory? Richelieu? Belfast? Ryan mused. Or perhaps Prince Eugen? Hood? Invincible?
He smirked at a more mischievous thought. How about Shirakami Fubuki?
"Ahem, there's one more thing
," Thorgrim Jr. added, scratching his head sheepishly. "It slipped my mind last night—I had too much ale. The High King sent a special delivery, escorted by Eternal Guards. I thought it'd be unsafe to leave it in Erengrad, so I brought it aboard."
"And what is this special delivery?" Ryan asked, raising an eyebrow.
Thorgrim Jr. motioned to a large chest bearing Grungni's mark and the personal seal of Clan Runesmith Kragg the Grim. It looked heavy enough to be worth a small fortune.
When Ryan returned to his cabin, the Lady of the Lake and Morgiana were already there. Morgiana's face was red, and her posture betrayed a certain discomfort, as if she were trying to hide behind Ryan.
"What's this, dear?" the goddess asked, her curiosity piqued.
Ryan set the chest down and unlocked it, revealing its contents: eleven ornate, 50-centimeter-long scepters.
Each was crafted from vibranium, mithril, gold, diamonds, and various gemstones. Dwarven runes glowed faintly along their surfaces, radiating immense power. One end was adorned with a lion sculpture, while the other featured a king's crown.
"These are the Marshal's Scepters of Bretonnia," Ryan announced, holding one up. "Once this mission is over, I'll return home and formally appoint the Ten Marshals of Bretonnia."
"Shall we go over the candidates?" Ryan asked, turning to the two women.
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