Time soon passed, and with capture of the cultists the empire's mood soon turned festive.
The Royal Plaza of Ironforge, which only hours ago had been a cratered battlefield reeking of ozone and death, was unrecognizable.
The debris of the Iron Legion had been shoved to the sides, forming makeshift walls of scrap metal.
The glassified crater in the center, the scar left by the Giga Full Counter, had been covered with massive slabs of slate.
And on top of those slabs sat the longest stone table Damien had ever seen.
"DRINK!"
A roar shook the cavern walls, louder than any cannon.
Thousands of Dwarves, soldiers, smiths, and liberated citizens, raised heavy iron tankards to the artificial sky.
"TO THE PRINCE! TO THE HUMAN! TO THE IRONCLAN!"
CLANG!
Thousands of mugs slammed together, spilling a frothy, dark liquid that sizzled when it hit the stone floor.
