The string of victories had finally bolstered the Old World's confidence in this grand Bretonnian chivalric expedition. After receiving the continuous reports of the expedition's successes and seeing Bretonnia gain tangible benefits, Grand Duke Schultz of Marienburg seized the opportunity. He used his influence to widely promote the victories, overshadowing the previous negative rumors.
The kingdom was once again filled with celebration. Couronne was adorned with lanterns, celebrating the triumphs of the expedition army. Shipments of gold and silver were unloaded at the docks, and the newly established postal system ensured that much of the soldiers' loot reached their families. Many serf households were stunned when they received packages. These rustic villagers, as the knights called them, had never seen so much real gold and silver before. One after another, they were so overjoyed that some even bit into the coins, unable to believe their fortune.
The sudden influx of wealth into the populace increased social activity but also led to a rise in theft, robbery, and brawls. Dealing with these issues fell to Regent Luan in Couronne and Sulia and Morgiana in the Duchy of Gisoreux.
Unexpectedly, despite the success of the first issue of the Eight Peaks bonds—thanks to the expedition's victories—several of the merchant guilds in Marienburg, which had previously opposed Ryan, remained silent and uncooperative. After hearing of the expedition's success, the merchant princes temporarily lowered their flags. Beneath the peaceful holiday atmosphere in Marienburg, no one knew how many undercurrents were stirring in the city. For now, however, everything was quiet.
Meanwhile, the expeditionary army finally arrived at the most important dwarven stronghold in the Badlands—Barak Varr.
When asked which dwarven hold was the greatest in the world, many would answer Karaz-a-Karak, the dwarven capital. The Angrond clan would likely say it was Karak Eight Peaks. Some of the older, more stubborn dwarfs might insist it was Karak Zorn, the original dwarf stronghold. However, if one asked which dwarven city was the most open and vibrant, even the most obstinate dwarf would begrudgingly admit it was Barak Varr.
As the only port city in the dwarven realms, Barak Varr was built into a massive coastal mountain range. Dwarven engineers and craftsmen had hollowed out the mountains, creating a vast harbor beneath the cliffs. Serving as both a trade hub and the base for the dwarven navy, the port housed a dozen dwarf ironclads—massive, fortress-like warships that could easily defeat even the strongest fleets.
Ryan and his forces gradually approached Barak Varr's port aboard the Sea God fleet. As they neared the smooth, black cliffs that appeared to have been hewn by axe and chisel, they saw the massive deepwater port surrounded by a thousand cannons and overshadowed by the cliffs above. Ryan turned to Belegar in awe. "What a remarkable city, Belegar."
"Barak Varr is perhaps the most prosperous of all dwarven holds, rivaled only by Karak Eight Peaks before its fall," Belegar said, stroking his white beard. Having spent the past month slaughtering greenskins to his heart's content, the king of Eight Peaks was in a good mood. "The dwarfs here… are more hospitable than those in other holds. Well, to humans, at least. Barak Varr is one of the few places where the dwarfs don't despise pointy ears as much. I recall that the Phoenix King once landed here many years ago."
"Phoenix King Finubar?" Ryan asked casually. There could be only one.
There was an amusing story Ryan remembered, once told to him by the Lady of the Lake, Lilith. When Finubar had reestablished contact with the dwarfs of the Old World, the then-explorer and now Phoenix King had made a request to the dwarven High King, asking if the dwarfs could return the Phoenix Crown to the high elves.
To the elves, who lived long lives, the War of the Beard was several generations ago, and they had begun to forget those ancient grudges. Finubar suggested that if the crown were returned, he would speak favorably of the dwarfs when he returned to Ulthuan, thus healing the rift between their peoples.
The dwarfs deliberated and eventually agreed—on one condition. "Have your Phoenix King come to Karaz-a-Karak, stand at the foot of the High King's throne in the Hall of Ancestors, and kneel."
"He must then loudly apologize, saying, 'I'm sorry, brother dwarf, it was our fault back then!' And if we can't hear him, he must repeat it until every dwarf hears it."
"Only then would we consider returning the Phoenix Crown."
Upon hearing this, Finubar realized that diplomacy would not suffice to reclaim the crown, and he dropped the idea. Clearly, he had underestimated the dwarfs' ability to hold a grudge. Even though the elves had long forgotten these ancient feuds, the dwarfs, with their 400-500 year lifespans, had never fully forgiven the elves for their betrayal.
"I think so," Belegar replied, uninterested. "Oh, and the Dwarf Master Engineer Guild's maritime branch is headquartered here. When it comes to building massive, mobile machinery, even the engineers at Zhufbar would bow to their skill."
"I see," Ryan nodded.
The docks of Barak Varr were bustling with activity. Though the port wasn't as large as Ryan had expected, after the military ships had filled the harbor, there was little room for the Sea God fleet. Still, the docks were crowded with people. News of the expedition's victories had already reached the city, and many merchants and dock vendors were eager to catch a glimpse of the expedition forces.
Ryan noticed that Veronica's apprentice witches were excited, cheering in awe at the sight of the city. Although the witches had enjoyed relatively good treatment within the army, the harsh conditions of the Badlands had still worn them down. Now that they had finally reached a city, even Veronica stood at the railing, clearly eager.
"We've arrived, Your Majesty," Blackheart Rep approached Ryan, the mercenary leader respectfully addressing him. "Barak Varr is the protector of the Border Princes. Whenever we face an overwhelming enemy invasion, the only place we can turn for help is here. The dwarfs here will always respond to calls for aid, though their price is steep. But it's worth it."
"Likewise, if any of the dwarfs' overseas colonies or outposts are attacked, they rely solely on reinforcements from Barak Varr," Belegar added, motioning for Rep to step aside. The king of Eight Peaks had been in high spirits lately. "Ryan, as a guest, we must meet with the king of Barak Varr, Byrrnoth Grundadrakk. Follow me."
"Byrrnoth Grundadrakk?" Ryan and his companions disembarked at Barak Varr. The towering square dwarven stronghold and its massive structures filled the horizon. A dozen enormous stone pillars and statues of ancient dwarven ancestors supported the cliffs above. Ryan noticed a squad of Hammerers standing sternly at the docks, clearly the king's emissaries, as Hammerers were typically the king's royal guard in dwarven society.
"Yes, Byrrnoth Grundadrakk, the king of Barak Varr. After his father was killed by a sea dragon, Byrrnoth spent twenty years at sea hunting it down. He eventually killed the dragon, though it bit off one of his legs before he could. Afterward, he returned to Barak Varr and took the throne," Belegar explained in detail. "Ryan, stay alert. Byrrnoth is a true traditionalist. Since taking the throne, he has reinstated many old customs and even sent his son to Karak Kadrin for training. He has many taboos, and even I'm not familiar with all of them. He'll definitely question you, so remember to respond in Dwarvish and keep your words brief."
"Sounds troublesome," Veronica chimed in, popping out from behind Ryan. The Garland Witch playfully patted Ryan's back. "Thank you for the advice, King Belegar. It's been most helpful."
"Haha, indeed. Compared to Byrrnoth, the High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer is not only reasonable but also quite pragmatic," Belegar joked, causing Ryan to grimace. "But don't worry, we've prepared a gift."
Ryan and Veronica exchanged glances. Before Ryan could respond, Veronica smiled mischievously and pushed him forward. "I won't be going. Go ahead, dear! Olica and I will go find us a nice inn to stay at while we wait for you."
Before Ryan could reply, Veronica hurried off with Olica to arrange accommodations for the witch coven, leaving Ryan with Belegar.
"King Ryan of Bretonnia and King Belegar of Angrond, our king awaits you in the throne hall. If there are no urgent matters, please follow us," one of the Hammerers said, motioning for Ryan and Belegar to follow.
Unlike the dwarfs of Karak Angrond and Fort Dawn, the dwarfs of Barak Varr were clearly much wealthier. Their warriors wore more ornate clothing and armor. Rare fabrics like silk were a mark of elite status. The Longbeards of Barak Varr wore luxurious attire to reflect their seniority. Moreover, compared to Belegar's army, Barak Varr's forces had a much higher proportion of crossbowmen, gunners, and artillerymen, while rangers and miners
were relatively few. The defense of Barak Varr heavily relied on its numerous artillery pieces, which were both produced and maintained by the many engineers residing in the city.
Led by the Hammerer guards, Ryan and Belegar approached the throne hall of Barak Varr.
Despite the presence of a squad of Hammerers and more Longbeard veterans, the throne hall of Barak Varr still felt somewhat empty. Bright lanterns illuminated the vast, cavernous hall, and Ryan could hear the echo of footsteps reverberating through the space. The ceiling of the throne hall was at least forty meters high—possibly higher. High above, King Byrrnoth Grundadrakk sat on his throne. He was clad in ancient rune armor, and the rune axe resting by his side was battered, though its remaining edges were still sharp.
Of note was the prosthetic leg peeking out from under the king's trousers, an artificial limb forged by the Barak Varr Engineers Guild.
The arrival of Ryan and Belegar stirred some murmurs among those present.
"Who goes there?"
"The honored King Belegar Ironhammer of Angrond and King Ryan Macado of Bretonnia request an audience," one of the Hammerers announced.
"An audience? Hah, the far-traveling Knight King seeks something from me? And Belegar… this must be your fourth time here at Barak Varr, no?" Byrrnoth said, his voice echoing through the hall. Ryan realized he had to tilt his head at least 45 degrees to look up at the king, whose face was obscured in shadow, making it difficult to discern his expression.
Byrrnoth seemed to misinterpret Ryan's movements, pausing as if searching for some hidden meaning. Just as Belegar was about to speak, Byrrnoth raised his hand to signal for silence. Several minutes passed before the king of Barak Varr spoke in a dry voice, this time in the common tongue. "Who are you? Don't you understand Dwarvish?"
"I understand, King Byrrnoth. We are grateful that Barak Varr has received us," Ryan said as he stepped forward, speaking fluent Dwarvish. "It is an honor to meet you."
A chorus of murmurs erupted from the Hammerers and Longbeards.
What a human hero indeed!
Impressed by Ryan's flawless Dwarvish, Byrrnoth's demeanor softened considerably. He was relieved not to have to rack his brain for words in a language he seldom used. Nodding in approval, Byrrnoth switched back to Dwarvish. "Your Khazalid is quite good. This will save us a lot of trouble."
"Thank you," Ryan replied. As the son of the Emperor, he was fluent in Dwarvish, Elvish, and several other languages. It was a talent he had, one that seemed to be passed on to his sons, Frederick and Devonshire.
"I've heard of your feats. You've destroyed every greenskin stronghold along Blackwater Bay. That's good. You are a friend of the dwarfs. But I still won't send you any reinforcements or offer any help. You may camp here and hire mercenaries, but I will not send a single soldier to aid you," Byrrnoth said as he took up his rune axe. "I've done this once before, and I won't make the same mistake twice."
Belegar looked embarrassed at the king's words and lifted his head. "Byrrnoth, this time we are prepared!"
"You said the same thing last time!"
"This time is different!"
"You said that last time too!"
"No, listen, Byrrnoth! This time we have the Bretonnian knights on our side. Together, we will take back Eight Peaks from the greenskins and skaven—"
"You said the exact same thing when you borrowed troops from High King Thorgrim!" Byrrnoth interrupted again, his voice echoing through the hall. Laughter followed, adding to Belegar's embarrassment. He truly was a failure until he could reclaim Eight Peaks and avenge his clan's honor.
Seeing Belegar's discomfort, Ryan quickly intervened. "King Byrrnoth, we've brought you a gift!"
"A gift? For me?" Byrrnoth turned his attention back to Ryan. "Barak Varr doesn't lack for gold or silver. I know you've looted quite a bit, but you may have underestimated the difficulty of reclaiming Eight Peaks. Keep your things."
"No, I assure you, this gift is offered in good faith," Ryan said as he opened a chest. Hammerers and Longbeards moved closer with their lanterns and torches, focusing the light on the contents of the chest.
Immediately, the dwarfs recoiled with expressions of disgust and raised a clamor of angry shouts. They stepped aside to allow Byrrnoth a clear view of Ryan's gift.
"This is… Ha! What a fitting gift. Are you really giving this to me?"
"Of course!"
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