"The Ancestor Goddess has not abandoned Her children yet! Your Majesty, please allow me to request a few days of leave!"
The first to react was an elderly dwarf named Aberic Silverfinger, Zhufbar's only Rune Master.
This Master was renowned for his skill in inscribing runes onto war machines, and precisely because of this, he and his school of runecraft had always been looked down upon by mainstream rune users, led by Krag the Grim.
In their eyes, how could Rune Smiths, as defenders of traditional craftsmanship, cooperate with Engineers who didn't respect tradition!
Following closely, one dwarf high-ranking official after another expressed their intention to go to Mountain Lake Fortress. King Selunding shook his head:
"Then let's just all go together! Mountain Lake Fortress isn't far anyway, and since it's his son, my old friend Thorgrim will surely go too. We haven't seen each other in years!"
With that, he rose from his throne, "Everyone, go back and pack! Don't shame our Zhufbar in front of those fellows from the Everpeak—no, don't shame us in front of the Ancestor Goddess!"
The scene shifts to Karak-Drazh, a dwarf stronghold located at the westernmost end of the World's Edge Mountains.
Its original purpose was to control Black Fire Pass, a crucial route leading to the Imperium of Man. There were no rich mineral deposits here; it primarily served as a garrison for troops and a tollbooth for collecting customs duties.
Upon learning that one of the Eternal Hammer Guard had come to deliver a message, Lord Lauren the Punctual, the ruler of Karak-Drazh, did not dare to delay and received them in the great hall.
He was the patriarch of the second-largest clan of Karaz-A-Karak, dispatched by Thorgrim to guard this place. After reading the letter, this dwarf, in the prime of his life, breathed a sigh of relief:
"I was startled when I heard the guard's report just now! I thought that young Grom was surrounded by greenskins and needed you to break through the encirclement to seek aid from me!"
He said with a laugh, "You two have had a long journey; go have some beer and rest well first! I will go witness the Ancestor Goddess's miracle and congratulate Grom along the way."
At the behest of the three lords, this news spread through the fortress like a jet engine, and soon even the humans of Karaz-A-Karak knew about it.
More than a dozen human leaders gathered in the Imperium's embassy. Due to the betrayal of Emperor Dieter IV, the official ambassador had been expelled, and the ambassadors of various Elector Counts and leaders of merchant guilds had taken over the space.
"It seems everyone has received the news! The female among the dwarves' three main Ancestor Gods has actually revived. I plan to go see it; what do you all think?"
The speaker was Ambassador Isamar from Nuln, sitting to the lower left of the empty main seat.
Nuln is an important city of the Imperium of Man, hailed as the jewel of the Reikland. Many dwarf artisans settled here and, taking advantage of the Reik River, established foundries, as oak barges on the river continuously brought in ore and coal.
With the help of the dwarves, Nuln built the Imperial Gunnery School, which is Nuln's most important symbol, both in impression and economy.
In countless foundries and refineries, metal ores from the Mountains were continuously transported here, melted and forged into muskets, pistols, cannons, or mortars, which were then shipped to other provinces and regions, yielding immense profits.
The Gunnery School also trained artillery crews needed by the army and provided advanced courses to train senior gunners.
Nuln is also a transportation hub and a major trade center. dwarf fortresses in the Mountains continuously brought in various goods, and wealthy people from southern provinces, like Tileans, flocked here to trade.
Therefore, Nuln placed greater importance on the dwarf Kingdom, and its ambassador to the Everpeak held a higher rank.
"If you ask me, His Majesty Thorgrim, the current High King, is probably suffering from delusions due to the pressure of grudges!" another human spoke up.
"Their Ancestor Gods haven't shown themselves for who knows how many years; it might even date back to Sigmar's era."
He took a sip of coffee from the table and continued, "I'm just afraid They've long been torn to pieces by the Blood God! The Lord of Pleasure probably doesn't care for such things."
"Shh! Keep your voice down!" Isamar quickly stopped the ambassador's foolishness.
"Thanks to that stupid pig, the dwarves haven't been very fond of us these days! If they hear you and jot it down in the book of grudges, no one can save you!"
Hearing this, the other humans nodded. In this world, most creatures have sufficient respect for the unknown and for deities.
"I also plan to go!" This time, it was a wealthy merchant from Marienburg who spoke, adorned with various gold and silver jewels, many of which shimmered with runic light.
"Even if the veracity of this 'Ancestor Goddess's divine grace' is debatable, our dwarf friends regaining control of Mountain Lake Fortress is certainly true." His beer belly jiggled as he spoke.
"Not to mention the large meteorite iron deposits in Black Water Lake, just the fact that Prince Grom is the High King's eldest son and a strong contender for the next High King makes it worth my trip!"
"Hahaha, you fat man think far ahead! Given our dwarf friends' lifespans, let alone you, even your grandson would be considered long-lived if he saw Prince Grom ascend the throne!"
This time, it was Ryan Cartney, a famous mercenary captain of the Imperium of Man, who spoke. He and his greatswords provided armed protection for any merchant caravans wishing to travel to the dwarf Mountains or through Black Fire Pass, and he had cooperative relationships with everyone else present.
"In my opinion, going to see Master Gromril is the real business. His Master-level flight rune is being exaggerated more and more by the dwarves, but its actual effect must be good! If the price is right, I'd really like to get one."
Although the humans present had different objectives, they quickly reached a decision to travel to Mountain Lake Fortress together, and after agreeing to depart tomorrow, they dispersed.
On the third evening, looking at the Rangers' haul, Gromril smiled contentedly. Before him lay two complete, healthy young lambs and one robust male rock ram.
Thinking that he would soon be able to walk without relying on his legs, Gromril grinned from ear to ear, though to the surrounding dwarves, this Chosen of the Goddess was expressing satisfaction with the offerings.
Gromril pulled two hundred gold coins, plundered from Skaven corpses, from his pocket and rewarded the Ranger Captain. Although the captain repeatedly said it was his honor to serve the Ancestor Goddess, the pressures of life still prompted him to accept the money.
Rangers were often dwarves without fixed property, and thus somewhat more financially challenged.
Meanwhile, dwarves and humans coming from surrounding fortresses to observe the ceremony gradually arrived, and the garrison at the outpost arranged them in the newly built temporary camp.
All of this reached its climax as the throne of power, carried on the shoulders of four dwarves, appeared at the geomantic network entrance. The King of the Mountains had arrived!
The Gromril brothers had long anticipated that their father would personally come to witness the impending divine miracle, so over these three days, they had simply modified the outpost's conference room to accommodate the throne of power.
All the dwarf high-ranking officials from different fortresses gathered here, awaiting their High King.
Since this was not an expedition to settle grudges, Thorgrim did not carry weapons or the great book of grudges. He only wore the Karaz Dragon Crown on his head.
"You have done well! You are brave and have shown some strategic ability!" After briefly praising Grom, he turned his attention to Gromril, the main character of the event.
"Is it absolutely certain that the Ancestor Goddess will soon bestow Her divine grace?" Thorgrim asked the question he cared about most, and it was a question on everyone's mind.
"I swear on my honor and my beard that the Ancestor Goddess has informed me She will bestow Her divine grace tomorrow morning to cleanse the corruption affecting Karak-Varn!"
Although they had known this news from letters, when the words were spoken by Gromril with powerful conviction, every dwarf cheered.
During the thousands of years of the Dark Ages, having lost the protection of the Ancestor Gods, the dwarves had lived too difficult a life; they had to confront various supernatural enemies with their flesh and blood and technology.
"Grandmother Krazrin-dor has also arrived. If there's anything you're unsure about regarding the ritual, you can consult her. She has over a hundred years of experience presiding over rituals for the Ancestor Goddess. Don't let the Ancestor Goddess feel you are disrespectful, and don't appear insufficiently solemn in front of the Clansmen!"
Thorgrim gave Gromril a few instructions and then let him go prepare for the morning ritual. He still had many things to discuss with the two dwarf lords.
Gromril walked out of the room, seeing that several clan elders he had met not long ago had also arrived.
"Rune Master Krag is here too!" Uncle Iron Chisel walked up and whispered into Gromril's ear.
Gromril nodded, but he wouldn't go to see this stubborn old dwarf now. For this Master, who was even more unyielding than meteorite iron, nothing would matter until he witnessed the divine miracle with his own eyes.
"Did the Ancestor Goddess tell you the correct ritual for praying to Her?" Grandmother Krazrin-dor asked immediately after.
The news of the Ancestor Goddess's divine grace reappearing was extremely exciting for all dwarves, except for her. Having served as High Priestess for over a hundred years without receiving a response, she had concluded that the Ancestor Goddess had long departed. After all, several generations of her predecessors had never heard a divine oracle either.
However, when the Ancestor Goddess manifested a divine miracle for Gromril and delivered a divine oracle, Grandmother Krazrin-dor's self-comforting narrative collapsed. Was the ritual incorrect, was she not pious enough, or was the Ancestor Goddess displeased with the offerings?
Looking at this female elder, who was clearly troubled by anxiety and hadn't rested well, Gromril didn't know how to respond.
"Next time, next time the Ancestor Goddess transmits a divine oracle to me, I'll ask Her for you!" Gromril couldn't be completely honest with her, so he could only offer this as reassurance for now.
Greeting the enthusiastic Clansmen along the way, Gromril spent half a day returning to his room.
"Cousin, I've drafted the sacrificial text for you, following the customs of the Ancestor Era. Take a look and revise it!" Balin said, handing over a scroll.
Gromril quickly scanned it. As an advisor personally arranged by the High King, Balin's writing was quite good.
He used elegant prose to briefly recount the process of the Grom brothers reclaiming Mountain Lake Fortress, described the future development vision for Karak-Varn, and finally expressed gratitude for the Ancestor Goddess's generous bestowal of divine grace.
Gromril nodded in satisfaction, but he still offered a minor suggestion for revision. This was because Balin had taken this composition extremely seriously, using very solemn language.
But Gromril knew that if all went well, Balin would have many more opportunities to write such articles in the future. If he used overly strong words this time, it would be difficult to arrange higher-spec rituals later.
After sending Balin away, Gromril lay on the bed. Tomorrow would be the second critical turning point since his transmigration. If becoming a Rune Master last time was like giving him wings, then this time would be equivalent to equipping him with an engine.
Gromril closed his eyes, he needed to rest early to show his best spirit and energy!
Early the next morning, Gromril put on his solemn ceremonial robes, took the revised sacrificial text Balin had left on the table, and after washing, walked out of his room.
Two attendants from Karaz-A-Karak groomed his beard and adorned him with several precious ornaments, then placed a magnificent hair crown on his head.
Amidst the cheers of all the onlookers lining the path, Gromril walked out of the outpost gate and began climbing the mountain path leading to Mountain Lake Fortress.
The traces of the bloody battle from a few days ago had mostly been cleaned up; the ground was no longer stained with blood, but bore marks of fire.
Gromril did not walk too fast, feeling the substantial, burning gazes of the dwarves behind him, he took a deep breath.
Arriving at the altar, Gromril saw that two small lambs had already been slaughtered and cleaned.
Gromril turned to face his compatriots down the mountain. As he unrolled the scroll and recited the sacrificial text, he simultaneously opened the system in his mind.
"...Praise the great Ancestor Goddess!" After finishing the sacrificial text, Gromril flicked his left hand, activating a Rune fireball that ignited the lamb carcasses. In the firelight, Gromril activated the Intermediate Valaya Ritual and designated the scope as Mountain Lake Fortress behind him.
With a crisp sound, Gromril's Revival Points were reduced to single digits, and a green light bloomed from within the Mountain Stronghold, spreading outwards.
As the green light spread, all sorts of Chaos remnants in Karak-Varn were swept away, and the surrounding land revitalized. Gromril felt the air suddenly become clearer!
Even though they were mentally prepared, the Clansmen, witnessing this divine miracle with their own eyes, still let out praises like a surging tide.
At this moment, from the most stubborn contemporary Ancestors to the most disrespectful young'un, no one doubted the reality of the Ancestor Gods' return.
Tears of excitement welled up in the eyes of many dwarves, as if the golden age was unfolding before them once again.
In that era, under the leadership of the Ancestor Gods, the dwarves drove out dragons, developed the Mountains, built mountain fortresses one after another, mined endless wealth, and forged legendary divine artifacts... Gromril bowed deeply and spread his arms, signaling that the ritual had ended. As he walked down the mountain, cries of "Chosen of the Goddess!" were incessant.
As Gromril walked, he paid attention to the changes in his Revival Points in the system, and watching the points climb rapidly, he felt genuine joy!
Originally, dwarves were accustomed to holding banquets in the evening, but this time it was an exception. Although it was early morning, still dim, the chefs began cooking large amounts of delicious food, and large barrels of beer were also passed around.
Every dwarf present joined in the revelry, feasting from dawn until sunset.
Thorgrim Grudgebearer was overcome with emotion, genuinely happy for his sons' achievements and the return of Mother Goddess Valaya. It seemed as if the heavy burden of grudges weighing on him had lightened somewhat.
The next morning, Gromril awoke from a hangover. He couldn't remember how many beers he had drunk or how many times he had said, "May the Ancestor Goddess bless you!"
Yesterday, dwarves of all ages had toasted him and sought his blessing, forming a line that stretched from the outpost's gate all the way to the entrance of Mountain Lake Fortress.
After washing up, Gromril decided to first seek out Krag the Grim. He was eager to know if witnessing divine grace had brought any changes to the most powerful Rune Master.
Upon being told that Master Krag had returned to Karaz-A-Karak with his Anvil Guard the previous night, Gromril shook his head and headed towards the High King's chambers.
"You're here. You drank quite a bit yesterday!" Thorgrim spoke from the throne of power. Gromril nodded and found a seat.
"Last night, I had a thought. From now on, we should make a distinction. At home, I'll still call you my son, but when we're out, I must address you as the respected Chosen of the Goddess, Master Gromril. Otherwise, it wouldn't be respectful enough!" Thorgrim, uncharacteristically, made a joke.
"Is there something you need from me? I'm preparing to return to Everpeak now; there's quite a bit to do recently." After a brief chat, Thorgrim got straight to the point.
"I want to organize an expedition!" Gromril declared. He had decided to embark on the first step of his plan: recovering lost artifacts.
Having tasted the benefits of the iron chisel ring, he understood that at this stage, collecting legendary equipment was the fastest way to enhance his strength.
While Thorgrim possessed many such treasures, some were tied to the High King's position, such as the throne of power, the great book of grudges, the Axe of Grimnir, and the Dragon Crown.
Others were clan inheritances, which would primarily fall into the hands of his elder brother, Grom.
Given that these were unlikely prospects, Gromril set his sights on the eight artifacts within the artifact vault system. Their power was certainly no less than the aforementioned items, and most were likely still ownerless.
Moreover, he didn't even have the symbol of a Rune Master—the anvil of doom—yet! It would be quite unfitting for the emblem on his chest if he didn't have a palanquin to ride in when he went out.
"I think I understand, but you don't need to rush," Thorgrim nodded and said.
"There's a big task you need to complete right now. If you're lucky, you might even get your anvil along the way!"
"What big task?" Gromril asked, puzzled.
"You don't know yet? It seems Grom is quite tight-lipped! But then again, if he were to publicize it, given our race's situation, it might fall through, hahaha!" Thorgrim was in a good mood, his laughter leaving Gromril bewildered.
"Big brother? What's up with him? Didn't he just conquer a territory? Do you have another assignment for him?" Gromril interrupted his father's laughter.
"Grom is getting married! I'm going to have grandchildren soon!" Thorgrim said with a proud look.
"That's happening!?" Gromril was shocked, but recalling his elder brother's behavior along the way, he had a rough idea. No wonder Grom had been running back and forth so frequently lately!
"Whose daughter is she?" The thought of his elder brother embracing a similarly sturdy female dwarf suddenly gave Gromril goosebumps.
"The daughter of Lord Granite Hand of Karak-Varn. She came to Everpeak ten years ago to study medicine," Thorgrim replied.
The tradition of dwarf medical professions can be traced back to Mother Goddess Valaya. The medical field includes various types of physicians, herbalists, internal and external medicine doctors, and pharmacists.
Different types of physicians each have their own medical rooms within a fortress. They are highly professional and enjoy boasting about their medical skills.
There have even been human rulers who traveled to dwarf fortresses to hire dwarf surgeons for operations. dwarf physicians occasionally travel between different settlements, accompanying armies to battle. Those who remain in one place for extended periods are usually pharmacists and herbal doctors.
"That Pamela girl is a well-rounded beauty! Your elder brother dueled many other lads to win her favor! You were busy studying rune magic at the time and didn't pay much attention."
It was clear that Thorgrim was very pleased with his future daughter-in-law.
Gromril understood the reasoning behind it. The dwarf male-to-female ratio was two to one, and for royalty, every marriageable female was scrutinized, as it would be a great disgrace if the eldest son couldn't marry a suitable wife.
As for Gromril himself, he was the third son and not particularly fond of socializing. Almost every time he was forced to socialize, it was young adult dwarves asking him about his second sister Nina's preferences.
Gromril recalled that a significant portion of his personal treasury came from the information fees provided by his second sister's suitors! The eligible young talents who pursued the High King's daughter were very generous.
"Alright, may the Ancestor Goddess bless her!" Gromril, having gotten used to saying this phrase the day before, blurted it out.
"But what does that have to do with me? Am I to be a groomsman?" he then asked.
"Your lack of concern for the outside world is no different from a foolish giant!" Thorgrim chuckled and chided him.
"You're an adult now. In a few years, when your sister gets married, it'll be your turn! You should start worrying about it." Thorgrim began to grumble like any father.
"You've been a Rune Master for days now, why hasn't anyone approached me about these matters? Given your current status, noblewomen from the great clans certainly wouldn't be a match! We need to find you a Mountain Stronghold princess. Could it be that they find it inconvenient to approach me, the High King, and have contacted Sonia instead? I'll have to ask her when I get back…"
Seeing Thorgrim stray further and further off-topic, Gromril quickly stopped him.
"Let's talk about my mission, Father. I swore an oath before the Ancestor Goddess: I will reclaim the lost Mountain Strongholds, recover the missing artifacts, and restore the glory of the Mountains Kingdom!" Gromril invoked Mother Goddess Valaya.
"Does this conflict with marriage…?" Thorgrim was still reluctant to give up, grumbling a few more times before getting to the point.
"As Grom's only younger brother, you are to go and welcome his bride!"
"Welcome the bride?" Gromril repeated, "Where to? The Physician's Guild Hall?"
"No, Karak-Varn! Your sister-in-law is the daughter of a city lord; she must be married off grandly from her own home. She just returned with a caravan a few days ago!"
"Karak-Varn?" Gromril quickly recalled, "In the Grey Mountains, near the Knight Kingdom of Bretonnia?" Gromril said uncertainly.
"Good geography!" Thorgrim nodded.
"My… my beloved Ancestor Goddess!" Gromril swallowed his words.
Karak-Varn is located at the westernmost end of the Grey Mountains, almost by the sea. This journey was truly a long one.
Thorgrim briefly told Gromril about the Dwarf race's wedding traditions.
In Dwarf race society, due to the scarcity of females, marriage is a very important event. To prove that the groom's family has enough financial resources to provide the female with a prosperous life, the groom's family must pay a huge sum of wealth to the bride's clan.
The amount of this wealth is determined by the bride's weight, and for this, the Dwarf race even has a special ceremony called the "Wedding Scale."
Dwarf race society considers plumpness beautiful. clansmen generally believe that fuller-figured females are more fertile and thus more popular, requiring more betrothal gifts to marry them.
As for what kind of equivalent weights are placed on the scale, it varies according to the status of the bride's clan, ranging from partly gold to entirely gold, and then to not just gold but also jewels, and so on.
In addition to demonstrating sufficient financial resources, the groom also needs to prove to the bride's maternal clan that he has the strength to protect their precious female clansmen. Specifically, the groom needs to undergo trials from the bride's family.
In this segment, besides the bride's own relatives, her other suitors also have the right to challenge the groom. Once a challenge is successful and the bride herself agrees, the original marriage contract will be voided.
Such a tradition was adjusted after breaking up many arranged marriages.
The person who goes to welcome the bride and accept the trials from the bride's family changed from the groom himself to a younger male clansmen related to the groom. This way, even if he fails the assessment, he can explain it away with words like:
"Winning against me doesn't make him a hero. My elder brother's wisdom and strength are ten times greater than mine!"
This kind of formal talk would smooth things over. It was embarrassing, but it allowed the wedding to proceed normally.
Of course, the closer the substitute is in blood to the groom, the more respect it shows to the bride's family. Usually, a younger brother takes his place, and if there is no suitable one, then a sufficiently close cousin can also do it.
Gromril thought for a moment that this trip would greatly increase his experience, knowledge of this world, and spread his name throughout the western part of the entire Mountains Kingdom.
"Understood, Father, when do I depart?" Gromril nodded in agreement.
"No rush, you'll go with the year-end caravan next month. By then, your warhammer should be forged, right? The journey might be a bit turbulent!" Thorgrim replied.
Thorgrim Grudgebearer is a wise High King, and he deeply understands the importance of trade. In addition to the traditional trade routes to Karak Kadrin, Zhufbar, and Sea Gate, as well as the Imperial city of Nuln,
Thorgrim first used diplomatic means to open a trade route that ran through the Empire, directly to Erengrad on the Claw Sea. This trade route not only restored communication with the Norscan Dwarfs but also greatly reduced the layered markups and exploitation of Dwarf race goods sold within the Empire.
By reducing middlemen, the Dwarf race's trade income significantly increased.
Thorgrim then led the Dwarf race army to clear out the Greenskins through military means, opening a trade route to Karak-Azul, the only remaining southern stronghold still controlled by the Dwarf race in the Ironpeak.
As Karak-Eight-Peaks, a vital stronghold connecting the north and south of the World's Edge Mountains, had fallen, this trade route carried both immense risk and immense reward.
Finally, Thorgrim renovated the Undervay network, cleared out the Goblins and Skaven entrenched within, and opened a trade route along the Black Mountains all the way to Karak-Varn at the end of the Grey Mountains.
Along this section, there are many Dwarf race fortresses of not too large a scale. Before this, they only had commercial dealings with their closest neighbors.
To procure anything from Everpeak, it had to be passed through merchants from different fortresses, which was time-consuming, laborious, and unsafe.
With Thorgrim's strong support, an armed caravan departs from Everpeak annually, traveling directly to Breezehold.
It stops at every fortress along the way. Due to the protection of troops arranged by the High King, the safety of the convoy is very high, and caravans along the route also join in, which in turn strengthens the caravan's power.
Similarly, because of this excellent safety, many activities involving valuable items and important letters are also scheduled to coincide with the caravan.
For example, many orders for the Master of the Anvils of Doom have their deposits and requirements sent when the caravan returns the previous year, and then this year, disciples deliver the goods with the caravan and collect the remaining payment.
Such caravans, in addition to promoting the economy of the entire Mountains Kingdom, also enhanced the influence of High King Thorgrim.
"The envoy from Breezehold who agreed to the marriage arrived a few days ago. Originally, Granite Hand wasn't too keen on his daughter marrying far away! It was the celebration feast when you became a Rune Master that made the envoy, who had the final say, make up his mind!" Thorgrim continued.
"Then our clan will still need some time to prepare the gifts, right?" Gromril interjected, "I also promised Balendin that I would visit Zhufbar!"
"Balendin? He's practically your cousin. Speaking of which, you're actually willing to go to Zhufbar?" Thorgrim was also surprised.
"Don't you Rune Smiths always clash with the Engineers?" the High King asked.
"Hmm, I'm different from them," Gromril thought for a moment and then honestly shared his thoughts.
"Whether it's new technology or old traditions, anything that can enhance the Dwarf race's strength and help us revive the Mountains Kingdom is a good thing worth learning!" Gromril repeated what he had told Balendin.
"Hahaha!" Thorgrim burst into laughter, "Truly my son! If only Master Krag could see this point! Even if Mogrim himself came to the mortal world, he wouldn't be able to convince him!"
"Speaking of which, why does Master Krag have such a bad attitude towards me and the people of our clan?" Gromril asked the question that had been on his mind.
"Who doesn't he have a bad attitude towards?" Thorgrim mumbled. "This goes back a thousand years; I only know the general gist." Thorgrim took a sip of beer and began to recount.
"I don't know if it was the High King at the time developing technology that angered Krag, or if Krag reduced the Rune Smiths' support for war, forcing the High King to develop technology. Anyway, the more we developed technology, the less support we received from him, which in turn forced us to further develop technology, ultimately becoming a deadlock."
"Then why did he take me as his apprentice?" Gromril continued to ask.
"Ha, originally you were supposed to apprentice under Master Iron Chisel, but Krag forcibly took you. I thought he had changed his ways then, so I just went along with it."
Gromril nodded after hearing his father's words; he had clarified his thoughts now.
It was probably because Grand Master Iron Chisel had already become the Vice President of the Rune Smith Guild with the support of the clan.
Grand Master Krag did not want Gromril to grow rapidly with the support of his relatives, increasing the royal family's influence in the Guild.
However, from memory, he knew that although Grand Master Krag had not given him any extra guidance, he had taught him all the basic knowledge, step by step, without missing a single thing.
From this perspective, Krag the Grim was still a dwarf who adhered to his principles.
Under the combined effect of Grand Master Krag's extremely pure understanding of rune power and Gromril's own talent, he became an official Rune Smith at a remarkably young age.
He was quite grateful to this demanding master.
After a brief discussion, Gromril decided to visit Zhufbar with the Dwarves who had come to the ceremony; he was eager to see the high-end technology of the Dwarf race.
That noon, Thorgrim returned to Karaz-A-Karak on the throne of power; the other two dwarf lords stayed a little longer to finalize the trade agreement.
In the afternoon, Gromril bade farewell to his brother and set off with the Zhufbar contingent amidst the farewells of many.
King Selunding, Prince Balendin, and Grand Master Silverfinger all cordially invited Gromril to join them, but Gromril ultimately chose to ride the anvil of doom with Grand Master Silverfinger.
Gromril euphemistically called this decision "exchanging skills," but the fundamental reason was that his rock ram was currently in training.
Grand Master Silverfinger was extremely envious of Gromril, a fellow practitioner with such profound mentorship.
Due to the unique nature of his school, almost no rune users of the same level were willing to engage in academic exchanges with them, so he and his predecessors had been working in isolation for years.
Along the way, the two Rune Masters communicated non-stop, and by evening, they had become close friends, eating at the same table and sleeping on the same couch.
Although Gromril's own accumulation had not yet reached the level of a Rune Master, his mainstream rune concepts learned from Grand Master Krag still greatly benefited Grand Master Silverfinger.
Many difficult problems that had troubled him for a long time were illuminated by Gromril's words.
For Gromril, he also gained much inspiration from Grand Master Silverfinger.
In his original understanding, he thought that runes could only be inscribed on weapons, equipment, and accessories.
It was only through Grand Master Silverfinger's sharing that he learned that runes could actually be inscribed on war machines such as ballistas and cannons to enhance the power of fired projectiles, give them tracking capabilities, speed up loading, or even self-destruct if the battle went poorly and the equipment was about to fall into enemy hands.
Early the next morning, the dwarf party circled half of the Black Water Lake.
Just past noon, they had entered the northernmost gorge of Black Water, where the surging black lake water rushed over the edge of the cliff into a magnificent waterfall.
The roar of the torrent echoed from the mountainside, and behind the noise was another distinct, even more piercing sound: the clanking and jingling of machinery in operation.
Dozens of waterwheels, some dozens of meters high, were laid out on the cliff face below the waterfall. Gears, chains, and pulley systems groaned incessantly, driving distant forging hammers and crushers, while stone aqueducts and culverts cleverly directed water to cooling tanks and smelters.
Iron bridges and stone portholes dotted a landscape of steam fountains, with many cannon barrels protruding from firing ports, silently watching over this entrance to Zhufbar.
Steam and smoke rose from countless boilers, gathering above the gorge to form a dense cloud, and as they cooled and descended, the thick moisture in the air condensed on the Dwarves' beards and armor.
The path wound up the southern rock face of the gorge, with spiraling staircases carved into the rock, and arched bridges with low railings spanned the gorge.
Beneath their feet, Zhufbar glowed amidst the humid air and shimmering red light.
At the foot of the gorge, long staircases spiraled up to the northern main gate, passing many defensive fortifications along the way.
News of the party's arrival had already been relayed to the gatekeepers by the watchtower; with a low rumble from beneath their feet, the water flowing through the sluice gates was redirected, heavy iron bolts and granite locks disengaged, and the massive gate slowly opened by gears and chains, finally receding into the rock on either side.
To the left and right of the gate were, as usual, two giant ancestral sculptures: on the left was the Father God Grungni, and on the right was Mogrim, the God of Engineers, primarily worshipped in Zhufbar.
A moment later, a lone dwarf appeared from behind the gate; he stood before the gate, five times his height, yet did not seem small, shouldering his battle-axe and blocking the party's way. Balendin stepped forward and announced their arrival.
"Who wishes to enter Zhufbar?" the gatekeeper asked from afar.
"Selunding, King of Zhufbar, and the esteemed Master Gromril, Chosen of the Goddess!" Balendin replied.
"Welcome back, Your Majesty and his distinguished guests." The gatekeeper stepped aside upon hearing this.
As the dwarf column continued forward, they passed under a stone archway roughly their height, with runes and ancestral faces carved into the lintel.
According to Balendin's introduction, this was the oldest stone in the fortress, almost as old as the legendary ancestors; the Dwarves of Zhufbar believed that if unwelcome guests attempted to pass through it, it would shatter and crash down on their heads, sealing the gate's entrance.
Every clansmen was glad this rumor had never been tested.
Soon, the Dwarves entered the antechamber, a long, narrow, and low passageway illuminated by countless lanterns in niches placed every few meters.
The city walls were crenellated, with three tiers on each side, Thunderers patrolled the long ramparts, and cannons and other war machines watched menacingly, ready to unleash a rain of metal on any enemy attempting to breach the gate.
This was because Zhufbar was located on the outskirts of the Mountains Kingdom and frequently subjected to various attacks.
Beyond the antechamber, the interior of Zhufbar extended into countless tunnels to the north, east, and south, forming a labyrinthine, intricate system of tunnels running both vertically and horizontally.
Here, in the center of the entire underground city, the straight walls appeared solid and reliable, adorned with runes and bas-reliefs, silently narrating the stories of the ancestors.
Several galleries opened out from the great hall, overlooking the dining halls, armories, reception rooms, and forging halls.
Gromril was led to a room on the upper level of the fortress to rest; he would speak at the welcome banquet that evening.
According to King Selunding's arrangements, Gromril would visit Zhufbar's Rune Smith Guild for an exchange tomorrow morning, followed by a tour of the armory here.
Entering his room, Gromril finally had time to examine the benefits he had gained from manifesting the miracle.
Looking at the revival points that had broken through three digits, totaling over a thousand, Gromril lay on his bed, grinning from ear to ear.
Witnessing the miracle firsthand had made almost all the dwarves present regain their faith in the Ancestor Gods, greatly boosting public order and the satisfaction of his clansmen.
Gromril believed that as the observers returned to their settlements and spread what they had seen and heard at taverns and gatherings, his revival points would continue to grow!
Zhufbar was a large dwarf fortress with an extremely developed economy and a large population, and due to its advanced technology, its residents generally lacked respect for the Ancestor Gods.
If he could make them regain their faith, he would surely reap substantial rewards. Thinking of this, Gromril suddenly had the idea of manifesting another miracle through the system, but he knew he needed a suitable opportunity.
After closing his eyes and sleeping for a while, Gromril was awakened by a knock on his door. He quickly tidied himself and left the room.
Led by two Iron Hammer Guards, he descended to the great hall of Zhufbar.
As Gromril entered the hall, the dwarves erupted in cheers. With a quick glance, Gromril recognized that a significant proportion of them were high-ranking officials who had witnessed the miracle at Mountain Lake Fortress.
Riding on the afterglow of the Goddess's miracle and being the first Rune Master to visit Zhufbar in nearly a millennium, Gromril received an exceptionally high-level welcome.
Virtually all the important dwarves from Zhufbar were present, a stark contrast to the approximately one-fifth of empty seats at the banquet held in the Grand Throne Room when he became a Rune Master.
Gromril was seated to King Serenthin's left. Next to him was Grand Master Silverfinger, and across from them sat two dwarves who, from the complex monocles on their heads and the smell of engine oil on their clothes, could be identified as local Engineering Masters.
Gromril briefly searched his memory; it seemed neither of these two dwarves had accompanied the team to Mountain Lake Fortress.
As the clock chimed seven times, King Serenthin stood up. He first expressed his welcome for Gromril's visit, then praised the Mother Goddess's divine grace.
Suddenly, Gromril noticed the middle-aged Engineering Master sitting opposite him curl his lip, seemingly dismissive.
"This is Brokk Damminson, the President of the Engineers Guild. He…" Grand Master Silverfinger also noticed this. He quietly warned Gromril, and his expression was not good.
"Your Majesty! If you have gathered us here just to announce these things, then I must beg your leave!" Before Grand Master Silverfinger could finish speaking, Brokk stood up, interrupting King Serenthin's lengthy speech.
"My research on rocket projectiles is at a critical juncture! I don't have time to waste here." As he stood, Gromril noticed that this Engineering Master had lost his left arm; his left hand was now a prosthetic limb with the luster of meteorite iron.
King Serenthin's face turned very ugly. The Dwarf King, already somewhat short-tempered, had his cheeks twitching.
This was partly because his speech was interrupted, and partly because he had lost face in front of the esteemed Chosen of the Goddess, the Prince of Everpeak.
"It seems the conflict between clans and Guilds isn't unique to Everpeak!" Gromril thought to himself, feeling that his opportunity was about to arrive.
"Science is the only truth! If the Ancestor Gods were truly useful, what would we need flame cannons for?" Brokk, not yet satisfied, continued his outrageous remarks.
This time, the other dwarves in the hall would not tolerate it, especially the clansmen who had witnessed the divine grace at Mountain Lake Fortress. They shouted loudly.
"Brokk, disrespecting the Ancestor Gods like that will bring divine punishment!"
"By Mogrim! You lost an arm in the last accident, next time it might be your head!"
"Without the Mother Goddess's protection, he'll just end up with his soul in Slaanesh's hands!"
Listening to the reproaches and even curses from his fellow clansmen in the hall, Brokk's expression remained unchanged. In his professional career, facing such scenes was not uncommon, but it was precisely by repeatedly adhering to his path that he became the President of the Engineers Guild today.
The Engineers in the hall also began to speak up, not to be outdone, shouting in support of their President.
Seeing the argument in the hall escalating, Gromril slowly stood up.
The dwarves not from the Engineers Guild quieted down, all wanting to see how Gromril, the Chosen of the Goddess, would rebuke the arrogant Brokk Damminson.
Gromril adjusted his demeanor, entering his expressionless 'divine stick' mode. "Although not everyone knows how to be grateful, the merciful Mother Goddess loves every one of Her children!"
Gromril spoke unhurriedly while bringing up the system in his mind. He knew that one aspect of the Valaya Ritual was to grant friendly units the "Energized" effect.
Gromril hesitated slightly between spending five hundred revival points for a permanent effect and one hundred revival points for a temporary effect.
You can't catch a wolf without sacrificing a cub. What if the effect wore off after a while, causing the hard-won faith to collapse? That would be bad!
After thinking it through, Gromril chose to permanently apply the "Energized" effect, targeting Brokk, who was still spouting nonsense across from him.
Suddenly, the dwarves present noticed Brokk's mouth close, and his body began to tremble.
Before the clansmen could react, a green light burst forth from his body!
The hall instantly fell into an unprecedented silence; everyone was guessing what had happened to Brokk.
After a while, Brokk Damminson spoke tremblingly: "By the Ancestor Goddess!" He shook his head and moved his limbs as he spoke.
"I feel full of strength! As if, as if I've returned to my early adulthood!"
Brokk's eyes were wide, and he slumped into his chair. His lips moved for a long time, but he still couldn't form coherent sentences, only muttering incoherently.
His unwavering belief of over two hundred years was shattered by the miracle directly applied to him!
Witnessing this scene, the dwarves in the hall erupted in frantic cheers, almost shaking the entire hall. The last time at Mountain Lake Fortress, they had only observed from a distance down the mountain, unable to see clearly. This time, the divine grace directly descending upon them was undoubtedly more impactful.
Seeing the fervor of his clansmen, Gromril suddenly understood the high cost of this ritual.
The core of divine power, "doing what humans cannot," meant that clearing Chaos corruption could be accomplished by any dwarf who mastered Rune power. The miracle merely accelerated this process, so while its scope was vast, its consumption was small.
Gromril, who had been contemplating and observing the growth of his Revival Points, suddenly noticed that the dwarf warriors around him were looking at him strangely. Their gazes were like thirsty travelers in the desert spotting a barrel of ice-cold beer.
Across from him, Brokk Damminson gradually regained consciousness with the support of his disciple. He was loudly proclaiming that he had seen the Ancestor Goddess, identical to those depicted in ancient scrolls and sculptures.
According to him, Mother Goddess Valaya had long golden hair that trailed to the ground, and a gentle touch of her hand on his head had dispelled all his fatigue, making him feel as energetic as if he had become a hundred years younger!
Gromril looked at Brokk with a suspicious expression. Since he hadn't yet applied the ritual effect to himself, Gromril couldn't immediately tell whether the dwarf Warrior opposite him was hallucinating or had truly seen the Goddess.
With the aid of the miracle, the atmosphere of the banquet transformed from joyful to frenzied. The dwarf warriors present drank their fill and sang loudly.
Listening to stories from the present-day Ancestors, praising the deeds of great individuals, and epic poems are part of dwarf Warrior entertainment culture.
Hymns accompanied by drinking are so popular that many large guilds and clans even have their own choirs.
The Zhufbar choir, conducted by Bawlin-Roaring Ox, enjoyed widespread renown throughout the Mountains Kingdom. They were even invited to tour the Imperium of Man.
At this banquet, amidst the enthusiastic cheers of the clansmen, this choir performed the stories of Mother Goddess Valaya, one after another.
However, such revelry was limited to the dwarf warriors seated below the stage. Gromril, seated on the stage, felt the air around him almost solidify.
King Serenthin, Grand Master Silverfinger, the massive Gatekeeper, and several other high-ranking dwarf warriors eligible to sit on the stage stared at each other, their eyes practically sparking.
Due to the mutual checks and balances, no one had yet spoken to Gromril. Gromril then realized how attractive abundant energy was to a long-lived race like the dwarf warriors!
"All I can do is pray to the Mother Goddess; whether she bestows divine grace depends on her will!" Gromril, realizing the situation, quickly excused himself.
Although his Revival Points were entering a new peak of growth, even considering the anticipated increase, he optimistically estimated he could only perform two more such rituals. What if he was detained and couldn't leave?
This statement somewhat eased the tense atmosphere on the stage. The high-ranking officials of Zhufbar chuckled and began to clink cups.
But this pale and weak explanation was clearly insufficient to dispel the thoughts of the dwarf warriors before him. From their forced smiles, Gromril realized he probably wouldn't get much sleep tonight.
The chiming clock on the dome struck twelve, and the banquet drew to a close. "I'll escort Master Gromril back to his room!" All the dwarf warriors blurted out this sentence in unison. It was clear they had been waiting for this moment for a long time.
Finding that their fellow clansmen had the same reaction, the dwarf warriors showed awkward, hesitant smiles on their faces.
Seeing this, Gromril quickly claimed he couldn't hold his liquor and swiftly slipped back to his room.
Closing the door, Gromril had just taken off his thick formal coat when he heard a "bang!" from outside the door, as if something heavy had crashed to the ground.
"Sigh, still can't avoid it!" Gromril sighed and got up to open the door.
Pushing open the door, he saw the white-bearded Grand Master Silverfinger pinned beneath the Gatekeeper. The Gatekeeper held down the Grand Master's hands and feet, preventing him from activating the runes on his body.
Looking at Gromril, who had opened the door, the Gatekeeper revealed a simple yet slightly embarrassed smile. But he still held Grand Master Silverfinger firmly despite his struggles.
"Esteemed Chosen of the Goddess, I am Henrid-Dragonslayer! I currently serve as the Gatekeeper of Zhufbar." The dwarf Warrior spoke, his voice sounding somewhat muffled.
Examining the dwarf Warrior up close, Gromril realized how remarkably built he was.
If Gromril himself could be considered well-proportioned among dwarf warriors, and Grom could be called robust, then to describe this dwarf Warrior, one would need to use terms like brawny and mighty.
This strong man, seated on Grand Master Silverfinger's back, was almost as tall as Gromril standing. His broad rear filled Grand Master Silverfinger's entire back. If he stood up, even with the dwarf Warrior's short legs, he would be more than a head taller than ordinary clansmen.
"Dragonslayer…" Gromril repeated. He knew that behind this simple, direct title lay endless bloodshed.
"Yes, before I became the Gatekeeper, I traveled the continent as an adventurer and slew a forest dragon tamed by the Pointy-ears over in the Grey Mountains! I returned to my homeland to avoid trouble."
Henrid proudly lifted his head. Unable to use his hands while pinning Grand Master Silverfinger, he pursed his lips to indicate Gromril should look at his back—a verdant dragon-hide cloak with the dragon's head fashioned into a hood.
"This strong man has come to visit me late at night, what does he seek?" Gromril asked. The dwarf Warrior before him had a dark beard and was in his prime; by his appearance, he shouldn't be troubled by a lack of energy.
"Could it be a lack of energy in *that* area?" A mischievous thought suddenly flashed through Gromril's mind, but he maintained a serious expression.
"My father returned to the Ancestors' halls early, and my mother raised me all by herself. Her health hasn't been good these past few years. Could you possibly ask the Ancestor Goddess to bestow her divine grace upon her?"
Listening to Henrid's words, Gromril's eyes suddenly welled up. He thought of his own father, toiling day and night for public affairs, oppressed by pages full of grudges. After gaining the ritual ability, he hadn't first thought of this elder who had always cared for him.
Gromril's silence did not surprise Henrid. Anyone with common sense knew that asking a deity to bestow divine grace required a huge price.
In Henrid's and Grand Master Silverfinger's view, Gromril was waiting for the dwarf Warrior before him to name his price.
"Master Gromril, you come from nobility, and you yourself possess extraordinary skill. I fear the wealth I've accumulated over the years might not impress you," Henrid began.
"I have ancestral equipment, but to exchange it with you would go against the Ancestors' teachings. If you could ask the Ancestor Goddess to bless my mother, then I am willing to pledge my loyalty to you for fifty years! Just provide food, that kind of loyalty." Henrid looked at Gromril.
"With my abilities, if using standard equipment, even Agrimm in the north wouldn't dare say he could definitively beat me!"
Gromril nodded continuously upon hearing this. He believed in the strong man's strength.
"S-Gromril, don't listen to him!" Seeing Gromril somewhat moved, Grand Master Silverfinger, who had just caught his breath, hastily interjected.
"Most of our dwarf Warrior strength lies in our equipment! This fellow is too big; he can't even wear ancestral plate armor. With just an axe, does he really compare to the Slayer King?"
"Compared to the Axe of Dargo, the thing in your hand is only fit for chopping firewood!" Grand Master Silverfinger, though pinned to the ground, refused to admit defeat.
"What's on his back? A cloak made from the hide of the ancient dragon, Fiska! Compared to that treasure, the green patch on your back is too dirty even to be used as a rag!" Grand Master Silverfinger struggled and yelled.
"As for the Slayer King's Crown, you can't even compare! You talk big without fear of the wind flashing your tongue." After chastising Henrid, Grand Master Silverfinger quickly stated his price.
"I… I will let you choose one Master Rune that I possess to learn. I swear to Thurni that I will not hold anything back! Ah, my back!"
Seeing that Grand Master Silverfinger still wouldn't give up, Henrid shifted his butt and changed his position, making the Master shriek in pain.
Thinking of the Master Tracking Rune that Grand Master Silverfinger possessed, Gromril's heart couldn't help but race.
On the way here, he had already coveted this miraculous rune that could give guided capabilities to cannonballs, but Grand Master Silverfinger insisted on an equivalent exchange using the carving method of a Master Flight Rune.
But unfortunately, this rune was initially generated directly by the system, and Gromril did not know its carving method, so he could only give up.
Considering he needed to save five hundred Revival Points for a ritual to bestow the Vigorous effect on his father Thorgrim, Gromril only had enough points for one more use. Therefore, he was torn between the powerful combat strength of Henrid-Dragonslayer and the ingenious use of the Master Tracking Rune.
Although he wanted to say, "I want them all," Gromril was still a dwarf who adhered to his principles. He couldn't bring himself to act like a rat, deceiving the kind elder and the filial warrior before him with cheap, temporary effects.
Seeing Gromril struggling to make a decision, the two Dwarves entangled on the ground also began to consider what extra they could offer. Just then, two Dwarves arriving together broke the brief calm.
The richly dressed one on the left was the current Chief of Internal Affairs of Zhufbar and the clan Chief of the second-largest clan in the city. The one on the right was the captain of King Serenthin's Hammer Guard.
The arrival of these two Dwarves completely freed Gromril from the dilemma of choice. He finally realized that he had just been blinded by the greed in his nature.
No matter which side he bestowed divine grace upon, it would undoubtedly tell the clansmen that he had the power to influence the Ancestor Goddess's decisions. If that happened, facing the clansmen deeply attracted by Vigorous, he might not be able to leave Zhufbar on his own!
Thinking of this, Gromril straightened his back, "Everyone, don't be in a hurry to speak, please hear me out!" He cleared his throat and began.
"Whether the Ancestor Goddess bestows divine grace, what type of divine grace, and to whom She grants it – these are not things I can decide or influence! I swear by the name of the Ancestor Goddess!"
Gromril paused.
"Anyway, the ritual I perform through the system isn't truly bestowing divine grace. To revitalize the Kingdom of the Mountains, the Ancestor Goddess will surely understand me!" He secretly explained to the Mother Goddess in his heart.
Gromril continued, "My oath stands firm as a rock!"
Seeing this display, the two Dwarves on the ground silently separated, each dusting off the dirt from their bodies.
The two newly arrived Dwarves opened their mouths as if to say something, but ultimately turned and left.
For the Chosen of the Goddess, swearing by the name of the deity they served was undoubtedly the most solemn oath. The Dwarves could only choose to believe it.
In dwarf society, the lowest level of oath is by one's honor, followed by an oath by the name of one's Family or clan. More importantly, one would swear by the Ancestors.
If an oath sworn by the Ancestors was broken, Dwarves would, without exception, choose to become a Butcher to cleanse their shame through a glorious death.
For oaths made by the name of one's Family or clan, some clansmen with a strong sense of honor would also consider embarking on the path of a Butcher.
Originally, the highest level of oath for Dwarves was by the name of the Ancestor Gods, but because the Ancestor Gods had not shown any divine signs for thousands of years before Gromril, the Chosen of the Goddess, appeared, this level of oath gradually became a mere saying due to the loss of a powerful impartial witness.
"Finally, I can get a good night's sleep!" Watching the four Dwarves walk away, Gromril sighed in relief and climbed back into bed.
Early the next morning, he arrived at the Rune Smith Guild in Zhufbar. From the outside, compared to the spacious main hall of Everpeak's headquarters, this place looked less like a guild hall and more like a Rune Workshop with a slightly larger storefront.
In fact, that was the case; the guild members here consisted only of Grand Master Silverfinger and his small group of apprentices. In this city, dominated by Engineers, the status of Rune Smiths was far lower than in other places that respected tradition.
Despite a small incident last night, Gromril was warmly received.
Every colleague showed full interest and respect for him, the most powerful Rune Master's disciple of the current era, and the youngest Rune Master since Thurni.
Gromril spent the morning explaining his understanding and insights into Rune magic, and then answered some questions from the guild members. After the exchange, Gromril, carrying a Burning Rune as a token of gratitude, headed to the fortress's mess hall for a meal.
This rune was the flagship product of the Zhufbar Rune Smith Guild, allowing cannonballs fired by war machines to have a burning effect. Besides causing additional fire damage, it could also intimidate some enemies who feared fire.
As soon as he entered the mess hall, Gromril saw Brokk Damminson from afar, standing on a dining table, waving his highly recognizable prosthetic limb.
He was drinking beer and loudly telling the surrounding Dwarves about how he received divine grace. "This Vigorous effect is truly remarkable!" Gromril thought to himself, seeing his gesticulating performance.
Following the crowd, Gromril approached the table where Brokk was standing. After listening briefly, Gromril almost burst out laughing.
For half the day, Brokk had told this story countless times. Through his constant embellishment, the Ancestor Goddess, initially described as having "golden hair dragging on the ground," had become vividly alive.
Her measurements and facial features seemed to constantly change based on the applause, cheers, and Brokk's own level of intoxication.
The original "gently stroking his head with Her hand" had, at some point, turned into a kiss on his forehead.
Brokk, standing on the table, noticed Gromril in the crowd. He jumped down from the table and gave Gromril a warm embrace.
It didn't matter that Brokk had already finished eating; Gromril could only eat with one hand, stroke his head with the other, and repeatedly say, "May the Ancestor Goddess bless you!"
After a difficult meal, Gromril and Brokk squeezed out of the dining hall. Brokk invited Gromril into his ride—a four-wheeled cart with a front-mounted engine.
Sitting on the leather seat, feeling the vibration of the car's engine and the bumpy sensation as the wheels traversed the uneven stone road, Gromril was almost lost in memories of his previous life.
The two drove all the way to the hall of the Engineers Guild. Although it wasn't far from the dining hall and they had transport, it still took them nearly an hour.
Brokk, the President of the Engineers Guild, changed his usual aloof demeanor. Every time he met a clansmen he knew on the road, he would stop the car and recount the story from last night.
It seemed that with Gromril, the Chosen of the Goddess, sitting beside him as a witness, his enthusiasm for spreading the Ancestor Goddess's divine grace grew even stronger.
Finally arriving at the guild's entrance, Gromril realized that it truly was a base for new technologies. The main gate's construction was different from all the other gates he had seen before.
Unlike typical stone or steel gates that required several guards to open and close, this gate could be operated with one hand using a lever next to it, which drove an internal pulley system.
The guards at the gate were not holding battle axes and hammers, but rather firearms.
However, the statues on either side of the gate were still in standard dwarf style: one was Mogrim, the God of Engineers, and the other was the inventor of dwarf gunpowder and the founder of the Engineers Guild.
Walking further inside, every Engineer along the way greeted Gromril warmly. Thanks to the Ancestor Goddess's divine grace, he was probably the first Rune user to receive such treatment since Zhufbar was established.
On the outskirts of the hall were the lower-end, basic weapon production lines. The Dwarves working here were generally not very old, and in the field of engineering, which requires a lot of accumulated knowledge beyond creative inspiration, they were just starting out.
Most of the ballistas, Grudge Throwers, and Thunderers produced here were sold to other dwarf Karaks. With Gromril's rudimentary engineering knowledge, he couldn't discern anything particularly special about them.
Continuing further inside, through two small doors guarded by sentries, Gromril, led by Brokk, entered a slightly smaller workshop.
Here, Cannons and Iron Drake Handcannons were produced on the assembly line. These two weapons were considered essential in more open dwarf Karaks.
The Iron Drake Handcannon was adept at dealing with underground threats, sweeping away large numbers of low-level opponents, while the Cannon was, without a doubt, one of the most commonly used artillery pieces in the dwarf army.
They could easily shatter enemy armor, being very effective against heavily armored foes.
They also possessed considerable accuracy and destructive power, capable of inflicting massive casualties on large monsters that melee troops struggled to handle.
Of course, they could also be used to attack enemy castles and fortifications, and killing ordinary living forces was naturally no problem.
Because of the Cannon's versatility and low cost, they would be pulled by horses and accompany the army when it marched out.
Brokk briefly introduced their current research topics—improving the Cannon's reloading speed and increasing the Iron Drake Handcannon's range—before leading Gromril further into the guild.
According to Brokk, the truly interesting things were still ahead!
The two walked another step further, and this time, the guards at the gate at the end of the corridor were noticeably much stricter. Several Iron Drakes watched the newcomers warily, and Brokk entered a string of passwords before the gate smoothly opened.
The hall inside this gate was significantly smaller. There were almost no young adults among the Dwarves working inside. "These are all official Engineers!" Brokk introduced.
A type of small artillery currently in production caught Gromril's attention. This four-barreled artillery was called an Organ Gun because its four parallel barrels looked similar to a pipe organ.
The Organ Gun's barrels were smaller and lighter than those of a regular Cannon, meaning the Organ Gun did not have the extreme range and powerful firepower of a Cannon.
However, the Organ Gun could fire a series of deadly shells continuously at the same time, causing immense damage to large groups of lightly armored enemies gathered together.
Looking at such a killing machine, Gromril nodded repeatedly. They were perfect for dealing with Goblins and Rats, and because they were relatively light, they could also be pulled underground.
Behind the Organ Guns were several half-assembled dwarf Gyrocopters.
"Almost every dwarf who comes here expresses admiration for these little darlings! Technology has given us Sons of the Mountains wings!" Brokk said proudly.
"Of course, you are an exception. His Majesty Thorgrim, the wise High King, is our biggest client! It is his generosity and open-mindedness that have promoted the development of our aviation industry."
"Yes, I saw a full squadron of Gyrocopters at the airfield in Karaz-A-Karak!" Gromril interjected.
"These few are for Karak Kadrin! Praise the Slayer King! His wisdom and his might are equally extraordinary!" Brokk spared no praise for the big patron.
Observing these Gyrocopters closely, Gromril noticed that they differed from the military helicopters he remembered from his previous life.
Presumably, to have some resistance against the flying behemoths led by various Dragons and powerful magic in this world, these Gyrocopters were fitted with heavy armor.
To balance the extra weight brought by the thick armor, the Engineers could only make adjustments by reducing the onboard weapons and shrinking the cockpit space.
After getting Brokk's permission, Gromril sat in the cockpit and briefly experienced it. He found that the cramped cockpit was slightly spacious for one dwarf, but trying to fit two would be quite difficult.
"No wonder the pilots of the Everpeak complain about needing to lose weight every day!" Gromril thought of those clansmen who, despite looking cool, were constantly grumbling, and he seemed to understand.
"President Brokk, such a design can probably only serve for reconnaissance, right?" Gromril spoke after a brief experience. Such Gyrocopters left him somewhat disappointed; they were far from achieving the aerial strike, supply drop, and troop transfer functions Gromril had envisioned.
"Truly worthy of being the Chosen of the Goddess! You are truly knowledgeable!" Brokk looked at Gromril as if he had found a kindred spirit.
For other dwarf lords, merely recognizing the utility of Gyrocopters was already considered enlightened. Only Gromril, with his memories from his previous life, could broaden his thinking and foresee the greater development prospects of air power.
"Normally, we would turn back here. But since you've asked, let's go a little further! You are the Ancestor Goddess's Chosen, so an exception is probably fine!" Brokk said with a proud look.
Chairman Brokk mysteriously led Gromril into his personal office.
"What do you want to show me? Not your office supplies, I hope?" Gromril asked, looking at his high-tech office.
There were all sorts of strange gadgets, from water dispensers to coffee grinders to massage chairs; it was clear that Chairman Brokk had interacted with human caravans quite a bit.
"Don't be so impatient!" Brokk said, inserting a key to open the safe door fixed to the wall.
Gromril was surprised to find that inside was not gold, silver, or some kind of dwarf-made machine, but a passage.
This passage, carved directly from the mountain, was not long; it ended in a secret door. Brokk pulled out a bunch of keys to open the door, explaining:
"This is where our Guild conducts its most cutting-edge research. To avoid potential dangers and ensure confidentiality, it requires the strongest security mechanisms."
After Brokk inserted the key, a keypad popped up on the door. "Please step aside for a moment!" Gromril turned around as instructed.
He heard Brokk's "creak, creak" as he turned the dial, and finally, with a "click," the door sprang open.
In an instant, Gromril's gaze became fixed. This hall was much larger than the one they had just passed through, and the dome was particularly high.
This was to accommodate two towering giants, whose wrists were not human hands, but directly fitted with drills and axes.
"Rune Giants!?" Gromril blurted out.
"You are truly well-informed!" Brokk was also a bit surprised, then he revealed a look of sudden understanding. "Of course, you are from Everpeak. Only three places in the entire Mountain Kingdom still possess Rune Giants."
Brokk took a sip of coffee and continued: "First is here, Zhufbar, the Engineer's City; then the capital of the Mountain Kingdom - Karaz-A-Karak; and finally..."
"Karak-Eight-Peaks?" Gromril asked. "Did the Mother Goddess tell you? Yes, the Queen of the Silver Abyss, once the most prosperous city-state in the entire Mountain Kingdom, and also the location of the Mother Goddess's temple."
"Can these two things move now?" Gromril asked his most pressing question.
"They are the crystallization of the highest level of Rune Magic and engineering technology from the Golden Age!" Brokk said. Hearing this, Gromril sighed.
"So, are they fully functional but unable to be driven, or are they damaged beyond repair?" Gromril understood the implied meaning in Brokk's words.
"Hmm, our Guild, through the efforts of several generations, has overcome the challenges in engineering technology, but in terms of runes..." Brokk hesitated.
"I understand. Then I suppose the Rune Giants we have in Karaz-A-Karak also have the same problem?"
Gromril asked directly. If they were still working properly, his father would have no reason not to use them during the Reckoning of Grudges.
"Yes, I heard that your master, Master Krag the Grim, once formed an expeditionary force to recover the runic knowledge needed to power the Rune Giants."
Brokk said with some uncertainty. "He and his team broke into a side hall of Black Crag through a secret passage. Based on the accounts of the clansmen who accompanied him, that exploration should have yielded some results."
Brokk stated his conjecture, then he asked Gromril:
"As Master Krag's only disciple in recent years, do you have any understanding of how to repair the runes on the Rune Giants?"
"This is probably the main reason he led me into this secret room! Even if the chances are slim, Brokk Damminson, a man obsessed with technology, is willing to make some attempts." Gromril thought to himself.
"No, my clan, the Dekkazklad clan, has always had a bad relationship with Krag, and he never told me about these things. But don't worry, I myself am now qualified to learn the knowledge to repair them." Gromril replied sincerely.
"Alas!" Even though he had anticipated it, Brokk couldn't help but sigh.
"As far as I know, many other races also have similar giant constructs. Can't we get some inspiration from those fellows?" Gromril thought for a moment and asked.
"Greenskins have Gorkamorka Giants, Vampire Pirates have Necrofex Colossi, and the constructs in Nehekhara to the south are even more numerous! Aren't there Sphinxes, Necrosphinxes, Bone Giants, and Hierotitans?" Gromril rattled off many examples.
"Valaya above!" Brokk showed a shocked expression, "Your erudition puts our current ancestors to shame! I must write down what you said!" He said, pulling out his notebook and writing it down.
"Hmm, however, esteemed Chosen of the Goddess." Brokk mumbled as he wrote. "What you just mentioned might not be of much reference value. They are almost all driven by the Winds of Magic, which is something our Dwarf race cannot imitate."
"I once had the good fortune to study a Gorkamorka Giant destroyed by our clansmen. It was essentially a pile of haphazardly stacked stones, given vitality by the Waaagh! energy condensed by a large number of Greenskins."
"As for the Sphinx, that kind of stone big cat, I've also seen one. I'm not sure which of the two types you mentioned it was." Brokk took a puff from his pipe.
"Once, an overconfident Tomb King tried to reclaim his 'treasures' from us. Did he even deserve them? The Sons of the Mountains crushed him and his skeleton legions, and the Sphinx he rode was also smashed to pieces by us."
Brokk spoke excitedly, once again waving his prosthetic arm. Gromril stepped back two paces; he didn't want to test the power of that Ironhand.
"After that thing is carved into shape by Tomb King technicians, the Lich Priests of the Mortuary Cult must bind the souls of the dead to it through their unique magic to serve as its driving force. We don't have such technology, and we would never desecrate souls!"
"Naturally!" Gromril nodded in agreement.
"Although I haven't seen them in person, I imagine that Hierotitans and Bone Giants are essentially similar. As for Necrofex Colossi, just by the name, you know they are products of desecrating power, so there's no need to discuss them!"
Listening to Chairman Brokk dismiss each of his proposed sources of inspiration, Gromril didn't feel angry, as he had no understanding of Rune Giants himself.
"So, do you have any ideas for repairing the Rune Giants?" Gromril asked.
"Cathay, the Cathay Empire in the east of the continent!"
"What? Cathay?" Hearing this word, Gromril showed a shocked expression.