From outside the fortress, the massive stone walls rise far higher than they first appear. The ancient dwarven ramparts stretch nearly fifty feet tall, wide enough for five dwarves to walk shoulder to shoulder along their tops. No matter the army, no matter the race that dared to face them, they have stood unbroken for centuries.
Forged from the strongest stone in the entire kingdom, each block was placed with dwarven precision and hammered into place with blows as heavy as a mountain's heart. Beyond the gate — solid, unyielding iron — even a small dragon could pass without shaking a single stone loose.
Encircling the fortress lies a vast trench, deep and deadly, lined with sharpened spikes at its bottom. The bridge that spans it, built from white stone, the same as the road leading to the gate, is narrow yet immovable, a silent testament to dwarven mastery.
The three Masters and the Lord stand together atop the wall above the gate. Valerie and Marion remain behind, restrained by the triplets.
Looking down, the Lord, slightly behind the Masters, admires the audacity of the humans. Among them, one man stands out — a knight clad in gleaming white armor adorned with gold. A sight far too regal for the blood that is sure to spill. His horse towers above the others, well-fed and monstrous compared to the gaunt mounts around it. Beside him, another man draws attention: scarred, seasoned, his very stance radiates experience. His armor, though scratched and dull, looks sturdy and dependable. Around them, a sea of soldiers stretches to the edge of the distant trees.
Darian steps forward, his thick brows shadowing his eyes, voice booming rough and deep... loud enough to be heard from a hundred meters away.
- Who dares to commit such an immoral act?!
- Release the captive women, and perhaps we'll let some of you live!!
The white knight gently strokes the severed head impaled near him, his pristine white glove staining red.
- Heartless bastards!!
Darian's fury seems to shake the ground itself. Baliot grunts heavily seeing Valerie look away nauseous. Cornelious raises his arm to take the lead from the angry dwarf. Maintaining his composure, even though his gaze alone is enough to chill the air, he calmly makes himself heard.
- With whom do we have the unfortunate pleasure of negotiating?! State your name, insolent human.
- Royal Knight Sir Stroheim Camillo! Third son of House Camillo and current high member of the Battle Council. In the name of His Majesty, King Julius Hernefesto Kryon Bonesses, I demand the release of our women — without the need for violence.
The knight lifts a royal insignia toward the fortress walls, a smug smile curving his lips as he speaks his last words.
- And what guarantee do we have that you won't attack us the moment the hostages are safe?! We can't trust unworthy beings like you.
- These are His Majesty's orders! If you refuse to cooperate, we will resort to force...
Sir Camillo's eyes gleam with amusement. A soldier approaches, clad in lighter armor than the rest. The knight leans slightly down from his horse, listening to the man's hurried whisper — inaudible from atop the walls.
- We found an entrance on the opposite side of the fortress. Something's blocking it, but we'll clear it soon.
Camillo's brow furrows briefly, then smooths as he straightens once more.
- I, Sir Camillo, will give you some time to think.
Hearing the human's arrogant tone, Darian's blood boils, heat rushing to his cheeks.
- Hold your fury, Master Darian. We do need time to confer. Farewell, Sir Camillo.
Hearing Lord Igion's words, the knights pull their reins and turn away, retreating with the thunder of hooves. Behind them, they leave their grisly trophies — and the red sea of pain they brought with them.