"Yes, humans had contact with that empire in the eastern part of the continent several hundred years ago. According to merchants, it's a place full of gold, spices, and silk!"
Brokk became excited, finally discovering something Gromril didn't know.
"Initially, Tilea merchants opened the trade route to Cathay. They passed through Black Fire Pass, went north along the World's Edge Mountains, then crossed the plateau passes, entered the Giant Bone Lands, and pushed further east."
Gromril listened, captivated, filled with curiosity and longing for the distant Cathay.
"This trade route they opened is called Long Tooth Road, and its end is Shang-Yang, Cathay's westernmost pass, reportedly ruled by one of the Dragon Emperor's sons," Brokk continued to explain.
"Are there Rune Giants there?" Gromril couldn't help but ask.
"No, no, no, don't rush. To the north of Cathay, to defend against invasions from the nomadic tribes and the minions of Chaos in the empire's northern regions, their Dragon Emperor personally built The Great Bastion thousands of years ago, infusing it with his own magic to guard the empire's northern frontier."
"A Warhammer version of the Great Wall!" Gromril thought to himself.
"The Great Bastion is guarded by the Dragon Emperor's eldest daughter. According to the merchants' descriptions, The Great Bastion is garrisoned with Terracotta Guards, tall constructs that seem to be driven by technology."
"Enlarged Terracotta Warriors?" Gromril blurted out, but Brokk clearly didn't understand the phrase.
"From the merchants' descriptions and some simple information they brought back, we infer that the technology used to create these Terracotta Guards could help us repair the Rune Giants. If we can repair these immensely powerful fellows, it would undoubtedly greatly strengthen the entire Mountains Kingdom."
Brokk began to look to the future, while Gromril fell into contemplation.
"Are these Terracotta Guards only at The Great Bastion? What about that… Shang…?"
"Shang-Yang, my esteemed Chosen of the Goddess," Brokk corrected. "Perhaps there are, but they shouldn't be in obvious places. Such things are also secrets to Cathay; perhaps Shang-Yang's Terracotta Guards are hidden underground like our Giants."
"Haven't we made any attempts? To collect information, learn the technology, and so on?" Gromril continued to ask.
"Since learning this news, our Engineers Guild has been planning," Brokk sighed. Seeing this, Gromril knew that what followed would not be good news.
"Long Tooth Road has many risks. Wild monsters encountered while crossing the Mountains or extreme weather are enough to destroy a caravan."
"But that's not the most terrifying thing," Brokk paused. "There's also a Great Goblin Empire on the Great Steppe, with a large number of raiding forces under its banner, so only a few caravans can safely make the round trip. It's said that if all the armies of those tribes were to gather, they would stretch as far as the eye can see!"
"So many of our intelligence personnel either never reached Cathay or were lost on the way back? But there must be some…" Gromril interjected.
"Yes, some caravans did return safely, but the information they brought back was either too superficial or simply couldn't be verified; they just made things up to try and swindle our gold!" At this, Brokk's beard trembled with anger.
"We made those greedy and foolish fellows pay the price! But that doesn't help us repair the Giants!"
"Never mind, let's go look at something else! If you make any breakthroughs in related rune technology, be sure to contact me. We can offer a price that will absolutely satisfy you!"
After receiving Gromril's affirmative reply, the two turned their attention to the base of the Giant.
There were two groups of dwarves conducting research. They both had long white beards, and their bodies were adorned with far more engineering creations than the dwarves outside.
Gromril and Brokk first walked to the left. Several clansmen were gathered around a strangely shaped cannon.
"This is the Vice-Chairman of the Guild, and he and his team are developing a true weapon of mass destruction!" Brokk introduced.
"We call this thing a Flame Cannon. We first pour hot oil and molten tar into the innermost part, then inject air into the barrel. This rapidly increases the pressure inside the barrel to the point of almost exploding."
"We then place a primer soaked in fuel in front of the nozzle at the appropriate moment, and then release the pressure in the barrel. These scorching hot mixtures will then gush out from the barrel and be rapidly ignited by the primer."
"Burning, rolling oil rains down from the sky onto the enemy ranks, a deadly firestorm from above. The flesh and blood on those bastards will immediately melt under the high temperature, leaving only a field of charred bones!"
Brokk spoke with great emotion, his face showing a gnashing-teeth expression, as if he were incinerating a pile of skaven.
"However, the range and stability of this thing still need improvement. Hmm, one just blew up not long ago!"
Brokk didn't want to say more. He led Gromril to the right. Two dwarf airships were parked there, different from those seen outside.
The Engineering Master in charge of this research, unlike the previous one who was indifferent to Gromril and Brokk's arrival, greeted them warmly.
"Good afternoon, esteemed Chosen of the Goddess! I am Pris Sky-walker! I am currently responsible for the research and development of airships."
Gromril greeted him, "Hello, esteemed Master, could you tell me about your work?"
The Sky-walker before him was a spry old dwarf. He wore a leather windproof cap, a beard cover, and a pair of flight goggles, indicating that in addition to being an Engineering Master, he was also an excellent pilot.
"The honor is all mine! Every one of us wants the Ancestor Goddess to know of our achievements. My team is trying to enhance the firepower of helicopters. You are from Everpeak, so you must know that current helicopters are almost ineffective against large numbers of enemies!"
After receiving Gromril's affirmative reply, the old dwarf continued: "We are now trying to reduce weight and increase power so that the helicopter can carry more weapons!"
Sky-walker gestured with his hand: "This is our first prototype. We have equipped it with Sulphur Guns. These things have higher firing accuracy and are also very effective against large units."
"This is our second prototype," the old dwarf pointed to another airship.
"We call it a bomber. To carry more bombs, we redesigned the airframe structure. Now, this thing can truly make our enemies experience what it means for death to fall from the sky!"
"Sounds good, but why haven't I seen much of it outside?" Gromril couldn't help but ask, thinking this bomber was really good.
Just then, the dwarves in the workshop suddenly heard a deafening roar.
Even deep within the Engineers Guild Hall, with the roar of several production lines outside, the force of this massive explosion was still immense.
"What happened?!" The dwarves couldn't help but look at each other.
"Respected Chosen of the Goddess, I'm afraid I must excuse myself. This commotion could only have been caused by members of our Guild."
Brokk spoke, an anxious expression on his face.
"This, this is the Guild's most important workshop. According to the rules, you cannot stay here without my accompaniment. This is also for your safety..." Brokk gritted his teeth and still said it.
"No problem, I'm pretty much done with the tour anyway." Before he could finish, Gromril, understanding the situation, spoke up. "Your important matters come first. Let's go out and see together!"
Brokk was very grateful for Gromril's understanding. The two dwarves ran out of the secret room. Just as they reached the second hall, a dwarf, covered in dust and with crooked spectacles, ran over.
"Guild Master Brokk, I finally found you!" The dwarf Engineer who ran over wiped the sweat from his brow.
"What happened that's so urgent?! Under the gaze of the Ancestor Goddess, every child should remain respectful!" Brokk spoke, clearly displeased by this interruption.
The dwarf opposite him paused: "Your son, Brockson! He somehow got some rat's warpstone and fiddled with it, creating some kind of dimensional fire!"
"By Mogrim!" Brokk exclaimed, "And then what? It caused an explosion? Is he alright?" Brokk's reaction was like any anxious father.
"Listen to me, Guild Master," the dwarf took a gulp of beer handed to him by a colleague nearby and caught his breath.
"He himself shouldn't have been seriously injured, protected by his steam-powered armor!"
"What about the other clansmen?" Guild Master Brokk continued to ask.
"Brockson's laboratory is in a relatively secluded location, so not many clansmen were affected. They should have only felt some of the shock from the explosion."
"Then it's not a big deal. Just transfer compensation from my account to the affected colleagues! This boy, he's always causing trouble!" Guild Master Brokk breathed a sigh of relief.
"My son, Brim Brockson, he is Zhufbar's most talented Engineer in recent years! He is about your age, and is currently preparing for the Engineering Master assessment! If all goes well, he will become the youngest Engineering Master in the Kingdom of the Mountains!"
Guild Master Brokk's face was beaming with pride, showing how proud he was of his son.
"That's truly remarkable! If it weren't for the Mother Goddess's favor, it would be very difficult for me to become a Master-level professional before him." Gromril praised him readily.
"Although Brim is still a dwarf whose beard is just growing, he already shows all the characteristics of a skilled inventor; while his peers are still learning basic principles, he has already come up with several valuable inventions!" Guild Master Brokk continued.
"He will surely inherit our family's glorious tradition. I will call him over later to listen to your teachings!"
"Guild Master, don't say all that yet!" Seeing Brokk's praise grow more enthusiastic, the dwarf Engineer in front of him grew anxious.
"The Guild Elders have caught him, and they are about to put him on trial! You should go and see quickly!"
"What?! A trial? Why? Isn't this his first accident?"
"Uh... This is his first major accident, but there were several smaller ones before, all suppressed by himself and your wife, so they didn't reach your ears!"
"Son of a rat! This is indulgence! This will only harm him!" Brokk's face twisted. "Where? Take me there quickly!"
"In the fortress center's square! This way!" The Engineer, hearing this, pointed the way.
Watching Guild Master Brokk rush towards his vehicle, the Engineer grew anxious again:
"Don't drive! The road is blocked, too many clansmen are going to watch the fun! It took me a lot of effort to squeeze through when I came."
"I'll go with you too! Perhaps I can help!" At this moment, Gromril spoke.
Originally, if Brokk had driven, he wouldn't have gone because the steam cart only had two seats, but now it wouldn't hurt for him to go.
Gromril was very interested in Brokk and his amazingly talented son. He knew the importance of engineering technology for future development, and at the same time, he hoped to take this opportunity to further expand his influence and reputation.
The three dwarves scurried out of the Engineers Guild. Brokk was extremely anxious; he activated a steam thruster on his boots and went ahead. The dwarf Engineer then led Gromril to the square.
They ran halfway around the mountain's interior. From afar, Gromril saw the square packed with dense crowds of clansmen. In the center, beneath the statues of the three main gods, Guild Master Brokk was shouting something at the top of his lungs!
"Make way for the respected Chosen of the Goddess! Excuse me, excuse me!" The dwarf Engineer shouted, trying to clear a path for Gromril.
The clansmen, who had long heard of Gromril's name, were quite cooperative, and he smoothly reached the platform.
On one side of the platform stood five dwarves with white beards reaching their knees. Standing opposite them was Guild Master Brokk, shielding a young dwarf who was being held by two guards behind him.
Gromril observed the young man whose black beard had just reached his chest. He wore an ingeniously designed helmet, and beside him lay a double-barreled shotgun that looked to be of a large caliber. A face somewhat resembling Guild Master Brokk's wore an expression of regret and fear.
"This is already his fourth experimental accident! The Ancestor Gods teach well, 'no more than three times'!" The dwarf Elder standing in the middle spoke.
"According to our Engineers Guild's rules, Brim Brockson should undergo the Trousers Ceremony and then be expelled from the Guild!" another old dwarf said.
As soon as he finished speaking, many clansmen below the platform began to shout, "Trousers Ceremony!" "Trousers Ceremony!"
Some of them were at odds with Guild Master Brokk, while others were dissatisfied with Brim, this gifted but rebellious young man.
"Brim is still young, he's not..." Guild Master Brokk tried to defend his son.
"Do you, as the Guild Master, want to break the rules and shield your own son?"
This single sentence not only silenced Brokk's subsequent remarks but also triggered a wider resonance among the clansmen below.
It should be known that inventions, unlike rune power, cannot be transferred. Many dwarves suspected that Brim's inventions had received help from his father.
"I'll take responsibility for my own actions! I'll accept any punishment!" Brim, who was being held, couldn't help but shout when he saw his father being put on the spot.
"You, with barely any beard, shut your mouth!" President Brokk exploded.
"You have no idea what the Trousers Ritual means! From now on, you will no longer be able to research or use engineering techniques!"
"I know, Father! I've caused you too much trouble. I'll take responsibility for my own mistakes!" Brim shouted back, his voice trembling, hiding many complex emotions.
"This young'un isn't bad!" Gromril thought to himself. In his opinion, while talent and ability were important, without the support of good inner spiritual qualities, these were all castles in the air.
This was true in Gromril's previous life, and even more so in this world where mortals were easily tempted by Chaos Gods.
"Since he himself has no objections, then so be it! The Ancestor Gods bear witness, we shall perform the ritual on Brim Brockson..." The old dwarf in the center announced loudly.
"Esteemed Elders, please hear me out!" Gromril seized the opportunity to speak.
The Dwarves present turned their gazes to him. The Elders on the platform, whose anger at being interrupted had initially flared, controlled themselves once they recognized the speaker as Gromril, the Chosen of the Ancestor Goddess.
After receiving their approval, Gromril jumped onto the platform.
"Esteemed Chosen of the Goddess, this is an internal matter of our Guild. What is your opinion?" The dwarf on the left asked.
The Ancestor Halls were, according to legend, created by Mother Goddess Valaya. This was the spiritual realm of the Dwarf race, meant to shelter the souls of Dwarves after death from the clutches of the Chaos Gods.
The older the dwarf, the more they respected tradition. For these Longbeard Elders, who were nearing their return to the Ancestor Halls, none wished to offend this young man favored by the Ancestor Goddess.
What if he complained to Mother Goddess Valaya, causing their souls to have nowhere to go after death, and be taken by the fat grandpa to be used as fertilizer? What then!
"My dear clansmen! You may all have heard the news of me receiving Mother Goddess Valaya's divine grace and oracle!"
Gromril took the engineering megaphone from President Brokk and began to speak, meeting Brokk's expectant gaze.
"Mother Goddess Valaya told me that to restore the glory of the golden age of the Mountains Kingdom, the strength of every clansmen is indispensable!"
Hearing this, the Dwarves below cheered excitedly, all feeling a sense of pride. Gromril decided to start by evoking the clansmen's resonance.
"This Brim Brockson is a very promising Engineer, something I'm sure you all agree with!" Not only the clansmen below, but also the Elders on the platform nodded slightly.
"Although he has made mistakes more than once, so far, it seems no great losses have been incurred, and he and his father, President Brokk, are willing to compensate every affected clansmen!" Upon hearing this, President Brokk repeatedly gave assurances.
"Then I think, why don't we give him a chance to atone for his mistakes?
Rather than letting a genius, a clansmen who could make great contributions to the entire Engineers Guild, to Zhufbar where we reside, and even the entire Mountains Kingdom in the future, be stifled by us here in this square, stifled under the gaze of the Ancestor Goddess, it would be better to give him a slight reprimand and still allow him to retain his useful body, to make his own contributions to our Dwarf race!"
Gromril's eloquence was much better than that of ordinary Dwarves; he delivered a long speech in one breath. To further enhance his persuasiveness, he added at the end:
"I think this is also what Mother Goddess Valaya wishes to see!"
Some of the Dwarves below had already started cheering. Gromril guessed these might be President Brokk's disciples or clansmen, but regardless, they had stirred up the atmosphere.
The Elders on the platform also began to whisper among themselves. After a while, they beckoned President Brokk over to discuss with them.
The discussion lasted a bit long, with President Brokk strenuously arguing for a lighter punishment for his son.
Gromril took the opportunity to observe Brim, who was still being held. His face was filled with the joy of surviving a catastrophe and deep gratitude towards Gromril. Just as the clansmen were about to grow impatient, the Elders finally reached a conclusion.
"After discussion, we have decided to accept the suggestion of Master Gromril, the Chosen of the Goddess, and cancel the resolution to perform the Trousers Ritual on Brim Brockson," the leading Elder announced loudly,
"However, he will be exiled from Zhufbar and shall not set foot in Zhufbar until he has made a contribution to the entire Mountains Kingdom sufficient to atone for his grave mistakes!"
After speaking, the Elders turned and left, and the clansmen who had gathered to watch the excitement gradually dispersed.
"You hurry back and pack your things! Bring all the equipment you can, and all your strange inventions, anything useful!" Brokk quickly ran to his son.
Brim nodded in agreement while stretching his shoulders, which had been pressed down for half a day.
"The Elders only gave you half a day. You must leave Zhufbar before the bells strike twelve tonight!"
"Uh, Father, where should, or rather, where can I go?" Without the fiery passion of his defiance, Brim acted just like a normal young'un.
"I've never left Zhufbar before! Should I go to Everpeak to make a living, or to Barak Sea Gate to repair ships?" Brim, having escaped a disaster, was very confused.
"Uh, Master Gromril, could I trouble you to take in my son?" As a tech enthusiast, Brokk was at a loss for ideas for a moment. Seeing Gromril in front of him, he had a flash of inspiration.
"Besides being good at inventing, Brim also has a very solid foundation in basic engineering knowledge. He can operate and repair most common war machines on the market. If you are starting your own venture, he will definitely be of help!"
"Someone sends a pillow when I want to sleep! I was just wondering how to recruit him!" Gromril was secretly pleased but remained outwardly calm.
"As for his personal abilities, he will certainly not be a burden to you. Brim has been a sharpshooter since he was a child. The double-barreled rifle he designed and built himself, that thing—" President Brokk pointed to the weapon lying on the ground.
"It's called the Grudge Raker," Brim added.
"Yes, the Grudge Raker. A burst can shatter the head of an ork Big Boss, and with buckshot, it can blast a whole group of Goblins at once! He can definitely protect himself!" President Brokk enthusiastically promoted his son.
"Alright! But I might be adventuring out in the wild a lot, can you handle living rough with me?" Gromril decided to play a little hard to get.
"Of course! If you just stayed in the workshop and didn't go out, how would I get a chance to earn merit and wash away my shame?" Brim replied passionately.
After getting Gromril's approval, Brokk felt relieved.
"Hurry home! Say goodbye to your mother; she won't have another chance to spoil you!" Brokk sighed as he watched Brim walk away.
"Oh, thank you so much this time. If it weren't for you, Brim would have been in real trouble!"
"It's nothing, Chairman. This is what I should do. The precious strength of our Dwarf race shouldn't be wasted on meaningless internal strife. I will take good care of Brim, so please rest assured!" Gromril comforted him.
"Hmm, whenever you need to purchase war machines or engineering constructs in the future, just come to me. I will give you the maximum discount within my authority!"
"Another unexpected surprise!" Gromril thought. As a transmigrator, he was very fond of terms like high-end technology and firepower suppression.
Due to needing to leave Zhufbar before midnight, Gromril's schedule was very tight.
He took advantage of Chairman Brokk's ride to quickly go to the major merchant guilds in Zhufbar and finalized trade agreements with Brother Grom, the representative, and Karak-Varn City.
Soon, a convoy would arrive at Mountain Lake Fortress with raw materials and daily necessities needed for rebuilding the Mountain Stronghold, and then return with refined meteorite iron ore.
Before the clock struck twelve, Gromril arrived early at Zhufbar's side gate. This time, without King Serenthin accompanying him and with Brim, an exiled companion, he could only leave through the side gate.
Upon arrival, he found that besides Brokk and his son and ten Eternal Hammer Guards, two other dwarves were also at this inconspicuous small gate.
A crying woman pulling Brim was clearly Chairman Brokk's wife, and the other was the gatekeeper Henrid-Dragonslayer, whom he had met the previous night.
Seeing that Brim's mother had many things to tell him, Henrid pulled Gromril aside.
"Is there really no room for discussion?" Although the gatekeeper tried his best to lower his voice, his broad chest still made his voice echo.
"Your rhetoric might fool those old fuddy-duddies who have never left our dwarf Mountains, but I, Henrid-Dragonslayer, am not like them!" Henrid paused.
"In my adventures, I've seen many human priests, from the battle priests who believe in their Human Emperor Sigmar, to the wolf priests in the northern Imperium of Man who believe in the White Wolf God, also their God of War and God of Winter, Ulric."
Henrid took a breath, and Gromril was also surprised by his rich experience. However, Gromril then thought that for long-lived races like dwarves, the time spent traveling the Old World was indeed not much.
"There are also the Fay Enchantresses of Bretonnia who serve the Lady of the Lake, and the favored ones of some minor gods with weak divine power who rarely appear before people. They can almost all pray to the gods when needed and borrow power from them."
Henrid pulled out a flask and took a sip. His large eyes under his thick eyebrows stared at Gromril.
"If it weren't for the divine magic of my companions and the gods they served, I would have had at least two opportunities to return to the Ancestor Halls in these years!"
Gromril did not answer; he was weighing the pros and cons and brewing a reasonable explanation, but his silence made Henrid a little anxious.
"Respected Chosen of the Goddess, please forgive my presumption! I don't believe that the Ancestor Goddess's only Chosen since the end of the Golden Age would be in a situation where she has no influence at all on whether the Ancestor Goddess bestows divine grace, what type of divine grace she bestows, and to whom she bestows it!"
"Quiet, my friend!" Seeing that Henrid had gone this far, Gromril could only make some gestures.
On one hand, he was worried that Henrid would spread his conjectures, and on the other hand, he greatly admired this filial strongman.
"Alright, I admit, I do have some connections, but as you understand, the cost is not small, and I can't bestow it upon too many people at once." Gromril finally decided to be frank.
Seeing Henrid open his mouth wide, Gromril made a shushing gesture.
"I can't make the decision of praying for someone or not praying for someone in front of so many people, otherwise, with that energetic appeal, I'm afraid I'd have to wait for my father to lead the army of Karaz-A-Karak to pick me up from Zhufbar, wouldn't I?"
Henrid hadn't thought of this, but after hearing Gromril's explanation, he nodded.
"But…" He still wasn't ready to give up.
"Hmm, about your mother, I can speak a word or two before the Ancestor Goddess, but not now!" Gromril whispered in his ear.
"That's truly…"
"Quiet!" Seeing Henrid about to cheer, Gromril jumped up and covered his mouth.
"Hmm, hmm, …"
"If others hear it, I won't be able to leave!" Gromril said.
"Then why don't I go with you now? I'll protect you. I've been in Zhufbar so long I'm practically growing moss!" Henrid said.
"I'm starting to wonder if you're a big ork! Several people were watching last night. If you left with me, do you think King Serenthin and Grand Master Silverfinger have no ability to think?"
Gromril yelled, exasperated by Henrid. He suddenly didn't think so highly of this strongman.
"Then what should I do?" Henrid scratched his head.
"I'm going to Karak-Varn next to welcome my eldest brother Grom's bride. That round trip will take at least half a year." Gromril said, thinking as he spoke.
"Hmm, in a while, a month or two, you find a reason to resign, and bring your mother to Everpeak. When I return, I will hold a ritual for her. How does that sound?"
"Hmm, you've thought of everything. You just said you're going to Breezehold?" Henrid praised him.
"Yes, what's wrong?"
"Then I really can't go with you. The Pointy-ears in the forest are still looking for me!" Henrid shivered, pulling his forest dragon skin cloak tighter.
"It's over, no Wood Elves for me." Gromril felt a momentary blackout.
However, this thought was just a fleeting one. He knew that given the relationship between Elves and dwarves, if he rashly entered Athel Loren Forest, all that awaited him would be a volley of arrows.
As the clock struck twelve, Henrid and Gromril finalized the specific meeting plan, and he began to continue his gatekeeper duties.
"By order of the King, Brim Brockson, please leave Zhufbar! You may not return until you have the approval of the Elder Council!"
Upon hearing this, Brim picked up his weapon and hoisted a sack of luggage onto his shoulder. He strode out of the side gate.
He reassured Brokk and his wife one last time, promising to take good care of Brim, then left Zhufbar with ten Eternal Hammer Guards.
Returning to Karak-Varn along the same path, the journey was smooth since Prince Balendin and his men had just cleared it.
Gromril and Brim chatted briefly.
Although Brim hadn't fully recovered from the massive changes in his life, he still showed sufficient respect for Gromril, the Chosen of the Goddess and his new Boss.
"What did you make that caused such a big explosion?" Gromril was very curious about this.
"Hmm, I made, or rather, I planned to make a warpstone-powered boiler.
Those glowing green little things contain immense energy, far exceeding the coal we commonly use to power steam engines." Brim had no intention of hiding anything about such a failed product.
"You know about warpstone, right? And steam engines? And coal?" Brim, whose understanding of Gromril was limited to the Rune Smiths' stereotypical image of Engineers, asked uncertainly.
"Of course, of course.
My understanding of technology is greater than you imagine.
I have no prejudice against new technologies, provided, of course, that safety is ensured." Gromril decided to add a condition.
"I'd like to ask a question first: where did you get your raw materials, I mean the warpstone?"
"Oh, Prince Balendin's spoils of war.
According to him, you shared that victory with him, didn't you?" Brim retorted.
"What? That was only a few days ago? You caused a big explosion in such a short time?" Gromril was shocked; he felt he had underestimated Brim's creativity and potential for destruction.
Of course, his legitimate source of raw materials somewhat relieved Gromril; if his subordinate had secret dealings with the Skaven, the future troubles would be significant.
"A little over three days, less than four, I'd say!
After I got the warpstone, I spent some time determining its properties, then roughly estimated the energy contained per unit mass, and then designed a set of equipment based on the calculations." Brim seemed to be talking about a very ordinary matter, but Gromril's heart was in turmoil.
"However, during actual operation, I don't know if my calculations were wrong or if there was some unforeseen issue, but the machine exploded, and you know the rest.
Thank you very much for your help!" Brim briefly analyzed the cause of the accident.
Gromril knew that warpstone was a direct condensation of chaotic energy in the mortal realm, and thus warpstone also exhibited chaotic properties, meaning its energy content per unit volume was not constant.
Sometimes a warpstone the size of a thumb could unleash energy equivalent to a high-explosive grenade, while other times it couldn't even light a match.
This might be a potential reason for Brim's experimental failure.
"So where did your inspiration come from?" Gromril continued to ask.
"Doomwheel, do you know about that?"
Gromril recalled the giant, sparking, lightning-flashing, whirring wheel-shaped war machines he had seen in his previous life; they were fast, powerful, and relatively difficult to destroy.
Thinking of this, Gromril nodded, then shook his head.
Brim didn't pay much attention; he immediately began his explanation: "A few years ago, my father and I commanded a cannon crew to destroy one.
To be honest, its power still gives me nightmares from time to time!"
Gromril nodded; the destructive power of the Doomwheel was evident.
"After the battle, we were surprised to find that that giant machine was driven by only one Skaven!" Brim said.
"What? Just one rat was enough? Was it a Warlock Engineer?"
"No, no, no, an ordinary rat.
It kept pressing a lever at the back of the wheel; its job was to inject warpstone powder into the boiler with the lever, which then burned, providing energy for the wheel." Brim's voice trembled slightly.
"From then on, I realized the immense energy contained in warpstone and always wanted to find an opportunity to study it, but it seems there won't be a chance anytime soon!"
Gromril suddenly thought of the warpstone halberd he had previously captured from a skaven warlord, but he suppressed the urge to tell Brim.
It was better to let this young clansmen settle down first.
The next day at noon, a group of twelve dwarves, lightly equipped, arrived at the outpost at the foot of Karak-Varn.
Gromril found that the number of people in the outpost was far fewer than when he left.
He stopped a clansmen to ask and learned that the miners were eager to resume production, while the other dwarves were busy rebuilding Mountain Lake Fortress itself.
The Valaya Ritual Gromril performed only cleared the erosion left by the Greenskins and Skaven; it could do nothing about the damage they had caused.
After a short rest, Gromril took Brim up the mountain path; he wanted to see the first fortress he had captured before leaving.
Arriving at the summit, he found a group of former dwarf warriors who had shed their armor, put down their axes and shields, and instead picked up hammers and chisels, re-carving the damaged statues in front of the gate.
dwarves are such a race; almost every member is an excellent craftsman.
Gromril watched from afar, and he noticed that the newly repaired sculpture was vastly different in form from those in other cities.
The colossal figure of Mother Goddess Valaya was carved into the face of the mountain, with the main gate of Mountain Lake Fortress between Her legs, and small bas-reliefs of the two brothers, Gromril and Grom, stood at Her feet, on either side of the gate.
Looking at his own statue, holding a hammer in his right hand and smiling, Gromril felt a wave of emotions.
He felt the respect and love of his clansmen for him, even though he was still a young young'un who had just come of age.
His elder brother, Grom, ran out of the castle upon hearing the news.
He wasn't wearing armor either, dressed as a craftsman.
"Perhaps he's decorating his wedding room!" Gromril thought to himself.
After a warm embrace, Grom seemed shy for the first time; he clearly knew that Gromril knew he was going to fetch his bride for him.
"Ah, your rock ram is in training; its wildness needs to be worn down before you can ride it!" After a moment of awkward silence, Grom decided to talk about the rock ram first.
"You need to speed up, you know!
Don't make your little brother walk all the way to Karak-Varn on two legs; if I sprain my ankle on the way, it's hard to say when you'll get to see that Pamela girl!" Gromril teased his elder brother.
"You Goblin brat, what? Can you stand up now?" Grom punched Gromril's chest.
"You need to work hard too, don't wait until your future nephew has to go fetch your bride for you!"
Gromril briefly reported his observations and the trade agreement he had negotiated at Zhufbar to his elder brother, then returned to the outpost down the mountain.
Before parting, he strongly recommended to his elder brother that they purchase or rent engineering equipment to speed up the reconstruction. However, judging by his expression, Grom didn't seem to have taken it to heart. Seeing this, Gromril decided not to persuade him further.
He knew Grom was a very traditional dwarf, possessing all the good qualities of Dwarves, and, of course, their stubbornness, which was ingrained in their bones.
Gromril planned to return to Karaz-A-Karak after resting for a night. On one hand, he wanted to quickly supplement his lacking knowledge in Rune magic, and on the other hand, he wanted to apply the 'energetic' effect to his father, Thorgrim Grudgebearer, as soon as possible.
That evening, Gromril gathered the Anvil Guard borrowed from Iron Chisel. Some of them patrolled the mine tunnels, while others participated in the reconstruction work of Mountain Lake Fortress.
Seeing that all fifty-one Dwarves he had brought were safe and sound, Gromril finally relaxed.
Early the next morning, Gromril and his party quietly left Mountain Lake Fortress. It was another familiar long trek. Fortunately, after several marches and pursuits on this trip, Gromril gradually got used to long-distance walking.
It was Brim's first long journey, and the soreness from traveling from Zhufbar to Mountain Lake Fortress the day before was thoroughly triggered after a night's rest.
He could only distribute his personal luggage and equipment to the Anvil Guard, and then proceed with the support of two Eternal Hammer Guards.
During the mid-day rest, the young dwarf Engineer looked ashamed. He was embarrassed to have performed this way, possibly under the Ancestor Goddess's watchful eye.
"I must invent something that can travel through the geomantic network!" Brim said, gritting his teeth while gnawing on dry rations.
Gromril greatly agreed with his idea and immediately promised him support in terms of venue and funding. Gromril himself also believed that marching on foot at the speed of Dwarves was too much of a delay for military opportunities.
Gromril had inspiration from the railways he had seen in his previous life, but he only knew the general concept and did not understand the specific details.
This project would clearly be enormously expensive and would face foreseeable layers of obstruction from traditional forces. Therefore, Gromril did not plan to put this idea into practice until he had significantly increased his influence and established his own clan.
That night, the group arrived at Everpeak. Gromril saw that it was a bit late, so he returned to the clan's station to rest, deciding to visit the people he needed to see the next day.
After settling Brim in the room next to his, Gromril fell asleep. Early the next morning, he woke up and washed, and then he heard a knock at the door.
"Strange! I definitely didn't ask Balin to wake me up last night?" Gromril mumbled as he pulled open the door.
He found that the visitor was Johnson Strongshield, the captain of Iron Chisel's Anvil Guard.
"Strongshield, do you need anything from me so early in the morning?" Gromril asked, inviting him inside.
"Hmm, Master Gromril, I, I have an impolite request." The loud-voiced dwarf tried hard to control his volume, and an embarrassed expression appeared on his face.
"It's just, can I follow you from now on? Follow you to settle grudges, reclaim Mountain Strongholds, and find artifacts? I, uh, I've guarded the forge door for too many years!"
Captain Strongshield briefly recounted his experience. After he became a member of the Ironbreakers, due to the relatively conservative nature of the previous High King, Auricsson, who rarely deployed troops externally, he could only spend his days patrolling underground.
When Iron Chisel recruited the Anvil Guard, he believed that following a Rune Master would provide many opportunities for adventure, so he applied and was successfully selected.
Unexpectedly, Iron Chisel preferred staying in the forge rather than organizing his own exploration teams or accompanying armies with the anvil of doom.
Not long after, Thorgrim succeeded to the throne and declared the Age of Reckoning, frequently deploying troops externally, but all of this had nothing to do with Strongshield, who had become an Anvil Guard. Over the years, his axe and shield had almost no use.
After hearing Strongshield's story, Gromril couldn't help but feel a little emotional. In their previous collaborations, he knew that Strongshield was a talented dwarf officer with a certain degree of independent operational capability, reliability, and seemingly some knowledge of interrogation.
But such a talent, because he didn't seize opportunities, had also wasted a hundred years, and had not achieved any significant accomplishments to date.
Gromril felt great sympathy for his situation, and at the same time, he also believed that he needed an experienced guard captain.
Furthermore, Strongshield's loud voice could accurately convey his commands on a noisy and chaotic battlefield. Although megaphones could be used, they were never as stable as a human voice.
"Hmm, I understand what you mean. I must first go to see my father. After I return, I will talk to Iron Chisel."
Even though he had already made up his mind, Gromril still didn't make a definitive promise. After seeing off the profusely grateful Strongshield, he tidied his attire and, accompanied by ten Eternal Hammer Guards, went to Thorgrim's office to report.
Upon entering the room, Gromril motioned for Thorgrim to dismiss those present. Although he didn't understand why, his father still gestured for his officials to leave.
Gromril brought up the system and spent five hundred Revival Points to perform the ritual for Thorgrim. Feeling the endless power surging through his body, Thorgrim's gray beard trembled constantly.
But he was, after all, experienced and controlled his urge to shout out. However, Gromril saw Thorgrim clenching the edge of his desk with both hands, making a cracking sound.
It seemed that even after witnessing divine grace twice with his own eyes, when the miracle truly acted upon him, this wise High King still needed great effort to process it.
"Hmm, you, you are very good!" Thorgrim pursed his lips and after a long time, managed to utter this sentence. He was at a loss for how to praise Gromril at that moment.
"You have about twenty days to prepare. Your warhammer, your guards, and your little sheep!" Thorgrim understood what this effect meant to a dwarf, and also knew that his office had many ears, so he decided to continue with the main topic first.
"You don't need to worry about the composition of the caravan, the protection, or our wedding gifts. As for some essential etiquette, you can take the relevant scrolls and read them on the way, study them, and that will be enough." Thorgrim continued his instructions.
"Your most urgent task now is to improve your strength. That damned Gulu started its campaign from Mount Oakhaven within Bretonnia. Although its WAAAGH! attracted most of the Greenskin warbands along the way, this journey is still far from peaceful!"
"Filthy skaven might be hiding in the abandoned mines and geomantic networks underground! And the deep forests of Bretonnia are teeming with hooved Beastmen!" Thorgrim was worried that Gromril might become arrogant and careless after a small victory.
"You've already seen Skaven in Karak-Varn, so let me tell you about Beastmen!" Perhaps due to the effects of his renewed vigor, Thorgrim was in a talkative mood.
"Beastmen are not animals that originated in nature. According to the knowledge passed down by our Ancestors, these filthy, hooved monsters first appeared when the Old Ones' polar warp gates collapsed and highly corrosive warpstone rained down.
The contamination of Chaos brought omens of disaster to many ancient humans. Their resistance to Chaos was far inferior to that of us Sons of the Mountains, which led to severe mutations. These unfortunate fellows were called Beastmen; they are half-human and half-beast, with extremely chaotic appearances."
Thorgrim opened his mouth, realizing the wine glass on the table was empty. For dwarves, speaking at length without drinking something was quite uncomfortable.
Seeing this, Gromril got up to fetch drinks for his father and himself, but Thorgrim reached out to stop him.
Gromril watched as Thorgrim pressed a button on the table, and soon an Eternal Hammer Guard entered with two tankards of beer.
"What's going on?" Gromril asked. In his memory, his father's desk never had this function before.
"Hahaha, didn't I meet with old brother Selunding at your place a few days ago? He recommended this setup to me, and I tried it out—it's quite useful!" Thorgrim said with a laugh.
"He's willing to let technology enter his life; it seems father's open-mindedness is even higher than I expected. The reason it's not obvious might be due to too much pressure from the conservative faction," Gromril mused inwardly.
The father and son clinked their tankards, and Thorgrim continued to tell Gromril about the Beastmen.
"Beastmen are roughly divided into two main categories: Ungor and Gorehorn. Ungor are twisted variants, combining the worst qualities of humans and beasts;
Gorehorn are a more robust branch of Beastmen, the result of a patchwork fusion of certain powerful animals and humans. These hooved creatures readily embrace their chaotic nature—possessing intelligence not inferior to our human friends, yet acting with the cunning of beasts."
"I know all this, father. I also know that their truly powerful threats are not these, but Minotaurs, Ghorgon, and other twisted creations," Gromril replied.
"It seems you've been studying a lot recently! When you were little, you weren't interested in any of this stuff in school!"
Thorgrim seemed very pleased. He didn't want his son to only sit in the workshop engraving runes. What he wanted to see was Gromril wielding runic power to support his kinsmen on the battlefield.
After a brief conversation, Gromril returned to his room in the clan. Just as Thorgrim said, he needed to prepare thoroughly for this journey. Pushing open the door, he found two dwarves waiting for him.
Judging by the markings on their shields and helmets, they were Master Krag's Anvil Guard.
"Master Krag ordered us to bring this to you!" Saying this, the two dwarves handed a box to Gromril, then turned and headed straight for the door.
"It seems my master was indeed moved after witnessing divine grace!" Gromril thought, but his mouth didn't stop moving:
"Two warriors, don't be in such a hurry to leave, sit down and have a beer! Did master have any message for me?"
"No need!"
"Don't know, if there's anything, it's in the box!"
Master Krag's Anvil Guard were as stubborn as he was. They left after dropping that remark.
"Alas, these fellows, perhaps only Stadhammer can change their bad tempers!" Gromril shook his head and closed the door.
He eagerly opened the box, looking forward to this gift from the strongest Rune Master of the era.
Upon opening it, Gromril's expression became a little strange. Inside lay a pair of boots, a pair of legendary quality boots engraved with three runes. Coincidentally, he also knew the origin of these boots.
These boots were called the starli boots, one of the few pieces of legendary equipment still in circulation that could be definitively attributed to Thurni, the God of Rune Smiths.
It should be known that in dwarf society, many legendary and even exquisite quality pieces of equipment are often attributed to the Ancestor Gods, but in reality, some were only partially completed by the Ancestor Gods, such as forging the embryo or participating in the quenching.
This situation was still acceptable, as there was at least some involvement of the Ancestor Gods in the forging process. However, others were imitations of the Ancestor Gods' weapons by certain Rune Masters, or lost divine artifacts recovered by exploration teams from forgotten fortresses, lacking specific records, and simply claimed to be the work of a certain Ancestor God to increase their value.
Just like Grimnir, the dwarf God of War, as far as Gromril knew, there were no less than ten battle axes in the entire Mountains Kingdom bearing his name. But clearly, even if this God of War was incredibly skilled in battle, he couldn't wield that many axes.
These boots were famous throughout the runic user community because Thurni, in making them, creatively split each of the three runes in half, engraving them on the two feet of the boots, and then connected them with special techniques to make them function normally.
This technique was attempted by almost every Rune Master in later generations, but only a few succeeded, and their so-called success was merely engraving an ordinary rune on the surface.
The story of why Thurni went to such trouble and effort dates back to the beginning of the world.
When Grimnir and his son Mogrim slew the great dragon Drakhyrion for Thurni, these three Ancestor Gods realized they needed a supremely skilled warrior to lure the world's first great dragon out of its heavily guarded lair, which was filled with its powerful offspring.
This was undoubtedly an extremely dangerous task. The great dragon Drakhyrion had wings, and its offspring also had the ability to fly. For a race like dwarves, who are naturally not fast, it was almost unimaginable how to entice it to leave its lair a sufficient distance without letting it give up the chase.
For this, the three Ancestor Gods sought out Stalli, the most cunning dwarf Ranger of the time. He bravely accepted the task, with the reward being that Thurni himself would craft a piece of equipment for him after its completion.
Stalli did not disappoint the gods. He skillfully used pre-set traps along the way, loaded ballistas, and convenient hiding spots to successfully complete the mission, and Thurni also honored his promise.
Thurni custom-made these boots for Stalli. Besides the special process of engraving a rune onto two items and making it function normally, the runes on these boots were also unique.
The main rune was a Master-grade Passage Rune—this rune made difficult terrain like rocks, vegetation, snow, and mud as easy to traverse as a flat road. It was a perfect fit for Rangers who needed to cross Mountains daily.
The second rune was a common Speed Rune, which could increase the wearer's movement speed and was the most common type engraved on boots.
The third rune was another rather rare new item. The Telescopic Rune allowed the equipment to expand or contract within a certain range according to the wearer's physical dimensions.
For Dwarves, equipment of exquisite and legendary quality was meant to be passed down through generations as heirlooms.
For weapons, a slight difference in length or shortness didn't matter much, and the clan's eldest son could even use replicas of inherited weapons from a young age to get accustomed to their size and weight.
For armor, if the size was slightly small, one could squeeze into it or control their weight. If the size was slightly large, one could add two more layers of padding inside, or if that didn't work, simply eat more and gain weight, which was not difficult for most Dwarves.
But for boots worn on the feet, if the shoe size was too small and pinched, one couldn't exactly cut off their toes to fit, could they? If the size was too large, even with padding, they would inevitably feel loose.
Stalli considered that if his descendants' shoe sizes were different from his own, wearing these legendary battle boots would not only prevent them from moving swiftly but might even make it difficult to take a single step. For this, he specifically asked Thurni to design such a brand-new rune.
Over the next several millennia, Stalli and his descendants, wearing these battle boots, achieved countless feats and escaped death many times. However, during the Dark Ages, the Mountain Stronghold where his clan resided was invaded by greenskins.
His descendants chose to perish with the fortress, and with its fall, the starli boots were lost.
Centuries ago, Master Krag organized an expedition. With the help of his powerful Rune power, they successfully broke into the lower levels of the Mountain Stronghold and recovered this legendary equipment.
Subsequently, Master Krag deduced and replicated the runes on these boots. Whether he succeeded or not, no one knew, and these battle boots remained hidden deep within Krag's treasury.
"Hah, who would have thought that I, the chosen of the Ancestor Goddess, the third son of the High King, the youngest Rune Master since Thurni of the Mountains Kingdom, would get my first legendary equipment as a second-hand, uh, no, an nth-hand pair of shoes?"
Gromril grumbled to himself. He was getting a good deal but still complaining. Ever since he tasted the sweetness of the iron chisel ring, his interest in actively triggerable runes was very high.
Although he grumbled, Gromril unceremoniously took off his original leather boots and put on the starli boots.
The moment he put them on, Gromril felt a completely different sensation from the soft, snug fit of his original high-grade calfskin boots.
"Hiss, these boots are made of dragon skin!" Gromril couldn't help but exclaim.
On second thought, it made sense. To bear three runes, special materials were necessary. According to the stories in the epics, this was most likely the skin of Drakhyrion.
Thinking of such a powerful creature being slain by the Ancestors and then made into boots to be trodden upon, Gromril couldn't help but feel honored.
Gromril stood up and stomped his feet. The effect of the Telescopic Rune was triggered, and Gromril could feel the boots slowly contracting until they perfectly conformed to his feet.
"Let me see if there's anything else!" Gromril said, tipping the shoe box onto the table, and a note floated out.
"Don't die too quickly!" Gromril read out word by word. These four characters were not written in the common tongue but in the Dwarven script itself.
The original Dwarven script was created by Mother Goddess Valaya. Each letter contained a small amount of the Winds of Magic, which was also the precursor of Rune magic.
It could be said that in the time of the Ancestors, every letter and every bill carried magical power.
The amount of power contained in this script was determined by the writer's own strength and the medium carrying the text. Each of these four characters, from the hand of Krag the Grim, was no less powerful than an ordinary rune, making them particularly difficult for Gromril to read.
Due to their cumbersome use, Dwarves almost only used them on extremely important occasions such as signing treaties or writing in the book of grudges.
For Dwarves who had awakened their Ancestral bloodline and mastered Rune power, they could write directly, and the Rune magic within their bodies would automatically attach to the characters.
clansmen without Rune power, however, needed to use a Rune pen or ink imbued with power to write them.
Taking the great book of grudges, Demaz Kron, as an example, the grudges written in it were inscribed with the High King's own blood.
Feeling the lightness from below, Gromril couldn't help but want to go out for a run.
He decided to head out to the Rune Smith Guild to find Iron Chisel. Walking down the stairs, the effect of the Master-grade Passage Rune became apparent.
Gromril felt as if he was walking on flat ground, completely without needing to concentrate to control his body or slow down to avoid falling. At the same time, his knees no longer bore extra pressure.
Under the combined effect of the Speed Rune, Gromril's speed increased by half. "The effect must be even more pronounced when climbing Mountains or trudging through swamps!" Gromril thought to himself.
"Will my little ram fall out of favor before I even ride it?" Gromril felt like he was falling in love with the feeling of walking on his own two feet. He walked swiftly, and in a blink, the Guild's gate was right before him.
Smiling and returning greetings to his colleagues along the way, Gromril went straight to Iron Chisel's forge.
"You're back!" Master Iron Chisel laughed, patting Gromril's shoulder. "I heard you're heading to Breezehold in a few days? Young people are just full of vigor."
"I hadn't left Everpeak much at your age! How is it, do you feel confident taking the lead for the first time?"
"Hard to say, Iron Chisel, I feel like I still have a lot to learn. I plan to quickly master the Rune of Fury and Destruction these days so I can have some lethality against potential enemies."
"Good! If you're missing anything or don't understand, just come and ask me. It wasn't good to give you special tutoring before, but now that you've graduated, we can just treat it as an academic exchange!" Master Iron Chisel readily agreed.
"Where are my Anvil Guards? They didn't bully you for being young and not listening to orders, did they?" Master Iron Chisel asked next.
"Of course not, they helped me a lot along the way! They are an elite and powerful army!" Gromril answered truthfully.
"That's good. I heard from that Longhammer lad that your guards have been recruited, but you still need to adjust the combat style of the original Ironbreakers.
You know, as Anvil Guards, they should form their ranks around us and our anvil of doom. This is a bit different from their original horizontal formation," Master Iron Chisel briefly analyzed.
"Yes, I've been very well protected by the brothers this whole trip! Neither the greenskins nor the rats have harmed a single hair on me."
After the praise, Gromril decided to speak directly:
"By the way, I have a good impression of your guard captain, Johnson Strongshield. He is reliable and has a loud voice. Could you assign him to me long-term? It would save me the trouble of selecting a new captain."
"Hahaha, of course!" Master Iron Chisel agreed readily.
"He's a capable fellow. It's truly a bit of a waste for him to have been guarding my door all these years. You know, I've always preferred producing equipment in the workshop. In my opinion, the output from doing so is more stable compared to adventuring outside."
"I respect your choice, Iron Chisel. No matter which method, it's contributing to our Mountains!" Gromril had no prejudice against Iron Chisel's style.
After all, not all dwarves are excellent commanders, and if every Rune Smith were to wander around with their guards, who would engrave runes on the clansmen's equipment?
After a brief chat, Gromril got up to leave. He planned to go back and try to master a new rune magic in this time, preparing for the upcoming journey.
"Grungni above! What's on your feet?" Just as Gromril turned to open the door, Iron Chisel exclaimed.
"You're amazing, you can even dig gold out of meteorite iron!" The old dwarf stared intently at the starli boots on Gromril 's feet.
"Oh, Master Krag just sent someone to deliver these to me. He probably wanted to give me some extra life-saving ability," Gromril said with a hint of Versailles, describing the origin of this precious legendary equipment in a very calm tone.
"Gromril, my dear grand-nephew, could you lend them to me to study for a few days? I'll definitely return them before you depart for Breezehold!" Master Iron Chisel said excitedly.
Gromril had no objection to this. He was very grateful to his old dwarf uncle who had first given him a ring and then lent him men and horses, generously helping him. If his revival points weren't so insufficient, he would have even wanted to give Master Iron Chisel the 'energetic' effect.
After getting Gromril's consent, Master Iron Chisel immediately sent an apprentice to buy Gromril a new pair of shoes.
"It's really nice to get a free pair of shoes by just walking around!" Gromril felt good wearing the newly bought high-quality leather boots. But after a few steps, he realized the difference between shoes.
"Having seen the vast ocean, no other water is as good!" He recalled this poem from his previous life. Feeling the ground become rugged again, he felt his feet were filled with lead, and Gromril began to miss his little sheep in Mountain Lake Fortress.
Returning to the deepest part of his courtyard's forge, Gromril decided to first begin learning to engrave the Rune of Fury and Destruction. When this rune is struck, it can make the earth crack, spewing sulfur and flames.
It can damage a large group of enemies at once, with additional fire damage, and its power will not be weakened too much by the enemy's armor.
Besides its powerful and growth-oriented nature, the Rune of Fury and Destruction is also one of the few runes that can directly cause damage to enemies, and it is the most widespread and easiest to learn. Almost every Rune Smith masters it.
The original owner of Gromril's body had already begun to attempt to learn this rune. According to the conventional order of Rune Smiths, after mastering the initial and most basic Runes of Hearth and Home and the Rune of Speed most suitable for the dwarf army, the Rune of Fury and Destruction is the third item to learn.
Gromril spent two days simply reviewing the theoretical knowledge in his original memory, gaining a more comprehensive understanding of the rune's energy flow and circuit configuration.
First, find suitable materials;
On the last day of March, light the furnace at midnight;
When the ore turns red, strike it until dawn;
Hammer and fold the white-hot metal seven times, chanting the corresponding incantation seven times;
Extinguish the flames with True Dragon blood, and quench it with the cold mercury of Karak Ungor;
In the name of the Ancestor Gods, cool it with the water of Karak-Varn;
Sharpen the tool with a True Dragon horn;
Engrave the rune onto the surface of the carrier on the third full moon night of winter;
Apply the blood of a Troll killed during Grungni's Festival;
Conceal a True Dragon horn within the wooden handle and wrap the handle with True Dragon hide;
Use the gold of Karak-Dragon Cliff Stronghold and the steel of Karak-Iron Peak Fortress for the hoops;
Polish with an ork tooth engraved with the Grimnir rune;
Perform a blessing ceremony with beer on Valaya's altar;
Kill a Troll at night and use its blood to finally activate the rune.
Recalling the ancient incantations in his memory, Gromril began to analyze carefully.
In his opinion, these complex ritual processes were all because, for clansmen who had just awakened their rune power, the sparse energy contained within them was insufficient to solidify the runes.
For this situation, theoretically, as long as there is a powerful enough engraving medium, the problem can be solved. For example, an Iron Chisel of superb quality or above, engraved with specific runes, or a bag of fresh True Dragon blood whose energy has not been severely lost.
But after all, not every dwarf is like Gromril himself, the third son of the current High King, a member of the Drazklad Clan that has ruled Karaz-A-Karak for thousands of years.
Most rune users of humble origin can only complete their runes through a large number of relatively simple and easily obtainable substitutes that do not contain enough magic power.
For example, using fresh Troll blood to replace hard-to-obtain True Dragon blood, using various rituals to enhance the rune's magic power, and so on.
Having understood this, Gromril suddenly realized that the original him, at a relatively young age—under a hundred years old—became a formal Rune Smith. Besides strict guidance from a famous master and his own certain talent, the strong financial support from his clan must have played a significant role.
Similarly, Gromril also understood why rune users often come from powerful clans. Beyond the widely publicized 'purer ancestral bloodline,' higher quality rune materials also played a large part.
Although he had a realization, the current Gromril was not yet capable of changing this situation.
Having figured out the trick, Gromril decided to continue down the extravagant path he had taken before. Using money to buy time, when he wasn't short on funds, was a very reasonable choice.
Opening his safe, Gromril's smile widened as he gazed at the sparkling small mountain of gold inside.
For a moment, Gromril even didn't want to part with these glittering darlings, even if a temporary loss would result in greater returns in the future.
Gromril realized that this was the 'gold fever' hidden deep within his bloodline at work.
dwarves have an almost pathological obsession with gold; 'gold fever' and 'gilding craze' are common physiological or psychological conditions among them.
These conditions are especially common among dwarf miners, who spend years excavating metal underground. The symptoms vary: loss of reason, drooling, pathological obsession, persecutory delusions, and so on.
Spending all day with gold, becoming violent, etc., are all meticulously documented in the dwarf miners' Association.
dwarves love gold so much that counting it has become a popular pastime among high-ranking dwarves.
This activity, depending on the amount of wealth, can take hours or even days. But dwarves find pleasure in the almost obsessive precision and composure with which they count.
dwarves also have many linguistic descriptions for 'gold,' reflecting its value, weight, color, luster, and even its history.
For example, ancient gold, passed down through generations and stored in clan treasuries, and recently mined gold have different names. dwarves also have unique names for gold of different purities.
Gromril was in a good mood. He slowly counted his own gold coins. He now had a total of just over four thousand.
The main sources of these gold coins fell into three categories. The most recent batch came from the spoils of war after Balendin and he annihilated the Skaven clan Foulfang, totaling around a thousand coins.
The more legitimate sources were the monthly allowance his father, Thorgrim, gave him when he was underage, and the income he earned working at the Rune Smith Guild. Since Gromril was backed by his clan and didn't have to worry about food or clothing, and he himself wasn't a vain person, most of it had accumulated.
The last part was the information fees he received by selling information about his second sister, Princess Nina's, hobbies. In the past decade, as both his second sister and he came of age, people sought him out for information almost every year.
Each such passive social interaction invariably involved a lavish meal and a batch of local produce. Many generous young dwarves would also slip Gromril a red envelope, asking him to put in a good word with his sister.
By all accounts, these four thousand gold coins were a considerable fortune. In human society, an ordinary farmer's annual income was around ten gold coins.
Like almost all worlds, a farmer's annual income, beyond sustaining his life, could barely afford anything truly 'luxurious'—unless it was through many years of savings.
For warriors or mercenaries, depending on their military branch and strength, their annual income ranged from twenty to fifty gold coins.
Many minor nobles, such as knights or sirs, earned less than five hundred gold coins annually from their estates and their own martial prowess.
Great nobles' annual income would exceed a thousand gold coins, of course, this was net income after paying their armies and retainers.
However, based on Gromril 's own observations and analysis, combined with his previous life's knowledge of economics, he believed that dwarf society, compared to the Empire, was experiencing some inflation.
Inflation is the depreciation of a country's currency, causing prices to rise.
It differs from general price increases: general price increases refer to a temporary, localized, and reversible rise in the price of one or more goods due to supply-demand imbalance, which does not cause currency depreciation;
Inflation, on the other hand, is a sustained, widespread, and irreversible rise in the prices of a country's major commodities, which can lead to the depreciation of that country's currency.
The direct cause of inflation in the Mountains Kingdom was that the amount of currency in circulation exceeded the dwarves' effective economic aggregate.
Gromril could see that the underlying reasons leading to this situation mainly included the following two.
First, currency. The entire Warhammer World uses precious metals like gold and silver as currency. As a race that relies on mining for its livelihood, the dwarves' currency issuance growth rate has consistently been higher than their effective economic aggregate growth rate.
Another reason was a massive trade surplus. The goods dwarves sold were mostly high-value items like armor, weapons, jewelry, and handicrafts, while what they bought from humans were mostly lower-value products like agricultural produce, food, and cotton textiles.
Due to the relatively small dwarf population, with Everpeak itself having only about three hundred and fifty thousand permanent residents, their demand was relatively low compared to the massive human population. A large amount of gold flowed into the Mountains Kingdom through trade.
This phenomenon of inflation led to a decrease in the purchasing power of gold coins in the Mountains Kingdom, with the introduction of Oathgold being the most direct proof.
To prevent certain Miner clans from easily exchanging priceless treasures for simple, readily available gold, dwarves chose to use Oathgold, imbued with Rune magic, for high-end transactions.
Thinking all this, Gromril walked into the materials shop in the central square of the fortress, carrying his money bag on his shoulder.
When he emerged, his money bag was half lighter, and in his hand was a small leather pouch of Dragon's Blood. And that was even a discounted price the owner gave him out of respect for the Ancestor Goddess!
Gromril's heart was bleeding, but faced with inflation, a problem that was difficult to solve even in his previous life, he, with only a conceptual understanding, was completely at a loss.
"In the future, I still need to earn money in the Mountains and spend it in the Empire; I need to introduce more policies to encourage merchants from the Empire to drive down the price of Dragon's Blood for me; getting more mercenaries from the human side is also a good idea, as their upkeep is much cheaper than that of clansmen..." Gromril muttered incessantly as he walked back.
"Oh, upkeep!" He suddenly felt a headache. Fortunately, his Anvil Guard was still paid by the clan; otherwise, it would be an unknown if the little money he had left would even be enough for salaries.
But then he thought, for now, he was still a capable officer in his father Thorgrim's faction, mainly responsible for leading his men on missions, with logistics and military supplies not being his concern.
However, once he established his own household, he would have to handle salaries, provisions, and even the replenishment of weapons, equipment, and ammunition himself.
"Where can I get money?" Gromril mumbled to himself. He hadn't expected that the first two difficulties he faced after transmigrating would both be related to money: first, no Oathgold, and now even ordinary gold coins were scarce!
"I'm going to protect merchant caravans anyway, so why don't I get involved in a little trade myself?" Gromril had a sudden flash of inspiration.