Chapter 32 I am your Father—No... Liege of the City (1/2)

Many were clueless about the death of the Winter Count. When the knights of the mansion received the news about it, their faces went as pale as death. Those were the knights that were staying in the countryside. Due to the heavy snowfall, the route to the city was cut off. Hence, it was already too late when they received the news. The news about the death of the Winter Count, the invasion of outsiders, the new successor's return and how he single-handedly reclaimed the territory. Once they were informed of the entire scenario, those knights were clueless about what to do next. After contemplating for some time, they had decided to send him their congratulations and condolences through a letter to Joshua. They sent their messenger to deliver the letter to the new liege, which represented their promise to serve the new liege of Moldavia when spring came.

*****

On the other side of the city, at the foothill of Mount Great Ajax where the dwarves gathered to live, the crimson-yellow molten lava continued to boil and simmer at extreme heat. The unrelenting heat from the pool of flowing lava was a source of perpetual warmth. It was also a gathering place for the fire elementals. Their presence, coupled with the extreme heat of the lava had sent hot air to rise up like steam from a boiling kettle. The hot air rose beyond the clouds in the sky and forced the clouds to move away due to the fast-rising heat. As such, while the clouds were blanketing the entire area of the North, there was a gigantic hole near the volcano. The golden sunlight that came every morning would warm the dwarves, giving them a golden warm gleam.

Underneath where the residential area of the dwarves, there was an underground smelting area. It was where the dwarves placed their furnace. The black steel-casting furnace core.

Circulating in the rune inscribed machinery, iron and steel would melt down into liquid form. Like an obedient cat, the liquid iron and steel would flow along the castings and form into various shapes and sizes according to the cast that was placed. Once the molten iron and steel are cast, the casting tray would be sent to the blacksmiths that would start swinging their hammers to mold the casted iron and steel to form the shape they wanted.

One by one, refined weapons were crafted. Each batch would take some time to make and once the completed product had reached a suitable amount, they will be sent off for export to various territories.

While many others were busy hammering and rising hot metal, there was an elder dwarf that was controlling the huge machinery. He had an earring on each earlobe. His beard was long and pale. Wrinkles and scars were seen on his body yet it failed to diminish the appearance of strength in the old dwarf. His muscles looked like they were hot metals, hammered and crafted perfectly to support the short, yet solid body.

The dwarf shut his eyes, sitting quietly on the control seat. By intuition alone, he was controlling the giant machine. Suddenly, there was as minor shake, and the machine wobbled slightly. The old dwarf felt something. Like a molten iron flowing through a cast for a long thin saber, his eyelids opened, slowly.

Ironborn Moreila, the current Northern Rune Dwarven Leader. The greatest blacksmith of the current generation of dwarves. The old man, who was dubbed as the Wise Old Dwarf for his strength and wisdom, opened his eyes. Despite the glowing hot-rod red of the molten metal around him, his golden eyes had not failed to retain its color as red light shone from his eyes. He raised his head and stared into nothingness. There was something in the air. He could feel it.

”A Divine Armament… Another one has awoken…”

The old dwarf muttered to himself and stood up from the control panel. He called down to his servants and said, ”Bring me my iron hammer.”

”Yes, sir! O, Great Smither… Is it time?”

The young servant bowed respectfully to his elder. It was a respect that Moreila deserved. An inequivalent title was given to Moreila for his prowess at the art of crafting. Dwarves that shared the surname Ironborn had the ability to craft the best weapons and armors. For Moreila, he had even crafted several Legendary tier weapons that made it into history.

Despite asking humbly, the young dwarf expected no reply from the Great Smither. Unexpectedly, he received one.

”That's right. It is something that my family had promised. A contract that was bound by blood. Something that I cannot refuse.”

Moreila smiled weakly. His stares were empty as he recalled a past memory. Slowly, he uttered each word as if they meant something truly special to him. ”One Divine Armament. One armor set. In the name of all rune dwarves, this promise was for the chaos guardians, the protectors. An oath. Respect to those that protect.”

*****

Somewhere far away.

”Moldavia… The home of the Radcliffes.”

Located on the western side of the Mount Great Ajax was the Moldavia territory. It was a merry city that was built beside the river. The unfrozen river that extended as far as 3,000 miles. The rivers continued on, following the mountain ranges of the ice valley, crossing through the Northern Empire's ancient holy river, and finally merging with it. Due to the geographical advantage that the city had, the family that governed the territory, the Scarlets, had no use for dragon caravans since they could perform trading all times of the year without the need to be watchful of the seasons.

In the lounge of the liege's mansion…