Chapter 1126: Chapter 1106: Explosive Gemstone
By the time Lann entered the Treasure Hall, the sight of the Golden Silver Sea in here gave him a brief jolt at first, but after that, he felt hardly any ripple at all.
If it was purely about the amount of Gold... Lann had once, during a[Memory Deep Dive], seen in outer space a small meteor made entirely of pure gold.
That meteor had a volume of roughly three thousand cubic kilometers.
So unless it could be converted into purchasing power, Lann’s senses were actually not that impressed by vast quantities of Gold.
The stench of dragon was even stronger here, and most of the other Dwarves’ complaints and exhaustion during this period stemmed from this.
Make anyone rummage day and night through a heap of cold metal steeped in stench; even if it’s Gold, they’ll only have enthusiasm for the first few days.
But Sorlin alone was the one most willing to stay here.
Now no one else came in; only Sorlin himself, wearing that bulky, gaudy robe he had dug out from his grandfather’s relics, was rummaging through the piles of Gold Coin like mountains, clattering as he searched for Gemstones.
"So this is what you call the ’King Under the Mountain’s’ majesty?"
Lann also stepped on the Gold Coin as he walked toward him, talking as he went.
His tone carried an obvious, mocking sarcasm.
"Looks like the spoils of your year-long hard journey are anything but dignified."
"Don’t talk to me about ’dignity’!" Sorlin was kneeling on the heap of gold, digging downward with an obsession so deep he seemed entranced. "I must find the Aken Gemstone and command all Dwarves. By then, all of you who covet my Gold will be nothing but thieves!"
The Gold Coin Sorlin dug aside flowed downward like quicksand off a dune.
"Gold, Gold, your mouth is still full of Gold! Is this stuff really that important? More important than your life?"
Lann lifted his leg from the Gold Coin flowing down, making a loud clattering sound.
"Of course, we’ll defend the Gold in the Lonely Mountain with our lives! Elves, humans, no one will take it!"
"If it were only humans and Elves, that would be easy to handle." Lann’s expression was calm, but what he said made even Sorlin’s mindless digging come to an abrupt halt.
"I can picture what you’ve done, Sorlin. Right now your emotions are off, but you’re not stupid; you understand that in the face of the Elf Army and human refugees, fourteen people can’t possibly hold the Lonely Mountain."
"You must have made some arrangements; otherwise you wouldn’t still have the mood to be here digging Gold and searching for Gemstones, right?"
"So what kind of arrangements would you make?"
The Demon Hunter spoke with a faint hint of amusement.
Sorlin’s digging paused for just a moment, then, as if trying to cover up his guilty conscience, his movements became even more violent.
Lann watched Sorlin, who was trying to conceal his own guilty conscience, as if he were watching a little brat playing at scheming.
"You’re too easy to read, Sorlin." The Demon Hunter shook his head. "You’re just far too easy to read."
"Though I’m not exactly familiar with the terrain and the situation here, from your words I’ve been able to sketch out the general shape."
"To the east of the Lonely Mountain are the Iron Hills, the territory of your cousins. Back when the dragon descended with overwhelming force, they didn’t dare reach out a hand to help for the sake of their own survival. But times have changed; with the dragon dead, their strength has also grown during this period."
"You’ve been dragging things out all along. I assume your plea for aid and your notice of restoring the Kingdom have already been sent to the Iron Hills?"
Situation, intelligence, the relationships between various people and regions... every time Lann entered a new world, he would immediately have Mentos start building a database.
This was not shooting in the dark.
The bio-cerebral processor recorded all kinds of information and relationships he came into contact with, then linked and cross-checked them, serving as data support.
And after coming to this world, what he’d been exposed to most were the rumors about the Lonely Mountain.
Sorlin wasn’t stupid; he knew he had no way of holding the Lonely Mountain against the Elves and the townsfolk with just this handful of people. From there, the rest of the reasoning was almost a matter of course for Lann.
After all, at this juncture, in this region, Sorlin actually had very few options.
Now Lann raised the topic in front of Sorlin only to use his reactions to complete his confirmation.
But there was no doubt that Lann’s words left Sorlin completely at a loss.
And this was only the opening stage of what Lann wanted to talk to him about.
The strategy of conversation, the order in which information was revealed, the control of emotions... to someone truly skilled at negotiation, all of this is planned out before they even start speaking.
"Your plan isn’t wrong; it even has a fair bit of feasibility. That’s at least one thing worthy of praise."
At this moment, Sorlin’s hands were buried in the heap of gold, but his digging motion had been shocked into stillness by Lann’s words. His whole person was frozen there, eyes blankly lowered, staring at the glittering Gold Coin.
"But the problem is..." Lann’s tone plunged, carrying an icy cruelty.
"When you’re dealing with Elves and humans who don’t really want to start a war, or would rather resolve things peacefully, of course you can stall them. Just drag things out."
"But what if the ones coming to kill, to wage war, to seize Gold, aren’t Elves and humans?"
Sitting atop the Golden Silver Sea, Sorlin seemed jolted by this icy tone, his whole body twitching as the heap of Gold Coin slid with a clattering cascade.
Lann went on as if he hadn’t seen it.
"You should still remember the day you set out from Long Lake Town for the Lonely Mountain, the message I brought you, right? Or have all this Gold stuffed your brain full already?"
"Back then I told you: the Gold is important, but not the most important thing. The most important thing is this strategic location. Once the Beastman take the Lonely Mountain, they can reconnect to the old lands of the Angmar Kingdom in the northwest. The entire northern Dark Forces will gain the chance to link up."
"Now that the dragon is dead, guess who, aside from the nearby humans and Elves rushing over, is most eager for this mountain?"
"Bea—Beastman?"
Sorlin muttered in horror, his voice in this empty hall like the dying man’s final faint breath.
"So those Beastman, those born murderers, executioners, sadists... do you think they’ll waste time here with you, letting you wait for reinforcements?"
"With people prepared to talk nicely, you can stall. So I’m curious: when you’re facing those who only want your life, what are you going to use to bargain with?"
At this moment, Sorlin’s soul had already flown out of him.
If it were the him from before, he would never have ended up like this. But right now he is no longer that brave and resourceful Dwarf Race Warrior and leader who made decisive choices.
He is Sorlin Oak Shield, whose eyes are filled with nothing but Gold.
The more he clings to the Gold, to the Lonely Mountain, the more fear he feels, and the harder it is for his former courage to rise again.
"Things are bad, Sorlin. But it’s not as if there’s nothing we can still do."
As the King Under the Mountain lay sprawled across his mountain of Gold, restless and uneasy, the Demon Hunter spoke up at just the right time with a voice much calmer than before.
"Divide out some Gold and hand it over to the humans of River Valley City. They have nowhere else to go; once they receive Gold they’ll no longer be your enemies, yet they’ll still be the Beastmen’s enemies."
"It’s the same with the Elves. All they want is their own national treasure, the keepsake of King Thranduil’s late wife. Their Kingdom isn’t far from the Lonely Mountain, and they have no position to sit back and watch the Beastmen seize this place."
"Sorlin..." Lann said earnestly, "as long as you pay the Gold you promised, you’ll find that right now you’re surrounded everywhere by comrades-in-arms, not by enemies!"
The King Under the Mountain panted heavily, his pained and bewildered gaze sweeping over his Golden Silver Sea.
Lann’s barrage of information made his already chaotic mood even more muddled.
At the base of the golden mountain, the sound of feet trampling on Gold Coins rang out as the Demon Hunter started walking toward the outside of the hall.
Suddenly, his footsteps paused.
Lann, who had originally been walking out, seemed to stop carelessly, then turned his head slightly and asked a question over his shoulder.
"You’ve always taken me for a Wizard, haven’t you, Sorlin? Then you should also know that Wizards can use Magic."
"What?"
Sorlin, whose head was aching and spinning, turned his head dazedly toward the Demon Hunter—and the Dwarf’s pupils instantly dilated!
"The Aken Gemstone!"
A Gemstone radiating a hazy yet dazzling halo was being tossed up and down in the Demon Hunter’s palm.
He showed not the slightest intention of cherishing or protecting it.
Sorlin practically rolled and crawled his way down toward Lann at the foot of the golden mountain.
The commotion he made was not small; just like Billbo’s movements before, he slid down a whole swath of Gold Coins with him, setting off a continuous clatter of Gold Coins crashing into one another.
The Dwarves waiting outside looked at one another and were all about to go in to see what was happening.
It was Balin, who had hurried over ahead of them, that stopped them.
"Let them talk. Whatever happens, it’s bound to be better than now. Wizards have their own ways; let’s not go in and mess things up."
Though worried, the severity of the current situation and the Old Dwarf’s prestige successfully held the others back.
"How did you get it! Give it back to me!"
Sorlin had slid all the way down and shouted loudly.
"A Wizard’s little trick. Makes finding things very convenient," Lann replied perfunctorily. "As for giving it back? I remember this thing belongs to the people of the Lonely Mountain, doesn’t it?"
"It is the King’s Gemstone; it belongs to the King! Am I not the King?"
"Hard to say."
Facing Sorlin’s near-deranged obsession, Lann muttered indifferently.
"Besides, I recall you already gave me half of your gains from this adventure. I think this Gemstone isn’t bad. What now, is the King Under the Mountain going to go back on his word?"
"You can have anything else! Anything else! Just not this!"
Sorlin stared fixatedly at the Gemstone Lann was tossing up and down in his hand, shouting loudly.
The Demon Hunter, however, remained cold-faced at this demand.
"Another promise. It seems the King Under the Mountain is best at making promises that aren’t worth a copper. Since in the end none of them ever turn into anything real, isn’t that so?"
"Enough."
Looking at Sorlin in his current infatuated and muddled state, Lann truly felt anger and disgust.
Because only a few days ago, this man had still been his friend, resolute and decisive, willing to fight the dragon to the bitter end.
Yet now he had become like this...
The Demon Hunter’s beast-like pupils suddenly sharpened.
It was precisely because he had seen the Sorlin of before that he was all the more determined to turn this bastard back!
That damn "Dragon-sickness" had turned a Dwarf hero and leader into a piece of trash!
"No negotiations, Sorlin. You know very well there is no one in this mountain who can stop me."
"The Aken Gemstone is right here in my hand, with nothing between us. And I do not covet this supreme treasure of the Dwarves."
"As long as you fulfill the promises you ought to fulfill, this Gemstone will not remain in my hand for even a minute longer than necessary."
"The deadline is sunset today. You’re to move out Gold and distribute it to the people of River Valley City. That’s all the time I’m giving you; if you go over..."
Lann extended both hands before Sorlin.
In one hand he held the Aken Gemstone; in the other, an ordinary white Gemstone.
"Boom!"
Flames erupted, startling even Sorlin, who had been staring obsessively at the Aken Gemstone.
The ordinary Gemstone in Lann’s left hand, however, rapidly lost its luster in the fire, visibly cracking and changing color before the naked eye.