Bear School Astartes

Chapter 1130: Chapter 1110: Hot Temper

The first batch of gold delivered at dusk served as a foundation, allowing humans and the dwarves in the Lonely Mountain to at least reestablish a certain level of mutual trust.

By the next morning, the dwarves had returned to the Lonely Mountain, jovial.

In River Valley City, both the elves and humans had calmed down.

It seemed no one believed there was any need for blades to meet or swords to draw blood in this scenario.

However, just as the sun rose a bit higher, a rumbling sound of marching suddenly echoed from the hills east of the Lonely Mountain.

The townspeople in River Valley City were thrown into chaos as if their homes were ablaze.

Most of them had only received their weapons two days ago, and although they had practiced a bit during that time, even calling them militia was a stretch.

"It’s the dwarves!"

The armed townspeople on the city walls cried out in panic.

"A dwarven army!"

"The dwarves have broken their promise!?"

"Are they coming to attack us?"

For the survival of themselves and their families, the townspeople of Long Lake Town could risk everything and muster the courage to demand the promised gold from Sorlin.

But they didn’t believe they stood a chance against a fully armed dwarven army.

The dwarves, like iron blocks, stood in a line on the hilltop east of the Lonely Mountain, their figures glinting with a dull steel luster.

The goats adorned with armor plates were the cavalry mounts of the dwarves, resilient creatures capable of maneuvering flexibly in mountains and hills, traditional war beasts of the dwarves.

The clinking and clattering sounds combined with the presence of dwarves in heavy armor and restless goat war beasts naturally exuded an air of tense military presence.

"Don’t panic! Don’t panic! Don’t speak recklessly!"

Bard shouted loudly among the crowd, suppressing their panic.

"The gold the dwarves delivered yesterday wasn’t fake! The dwarves were with us yesterday too, weren’t they? They are sincere! Don’t panic!"

If the townspeople were allowed to speak recklessly in fear, the purpose of these dwarves would soon transform into ’coming for a massacre’ in their mouths after a few retellings.

From the line of dwarves on the hill, three figures emerged and rode down the slope.

One of them, a tall, broad-shouldered human elder in a gray robe with white hair.

Another was clad in the distinctive geometrically lined armor of the dwarves, riding a robust armored war pig.

The last was a standard dwarven goat.

Seeing this, Bard, who rushed up to the city wall, felt more at ease.

His previously furrowed brows relaxed, and he spoke to his son behind him.

"The gray-robed wizard seems to have talked it out with the dwarves. I’m going to meet them. Bain, take care of your sisters."

Bard’s three children were already sensible in these difficult times and helped him with many matters.

"It’s all okay!" After instructing his son, Bard waved his hand broadly downward for the townspeople gathered beneath the city wall to see.

The panicked crowd looked to him expectantly.

"It’s all okay! Go back, get to your work!"

Upon Bard’s reassurance, the townspeople finally seemed to calm down a bit and dispersed into the city.

The elves, on the other hand, remained more composed.

Thranduil spoke lightly to Lann beside him.

"It must be the dwarves from the Iron Hills; Gandalf traveled through the night yesterday. If he hadn’t gone earlier, this army would’ve appeared on our flank by this morning."

River Valley City was located on the western slope at the foothills of the Lonely Mountain, while the Iron Hills dwarves appeared from the east, with a vast plain in between facing the gate of the Lonely Mountain.

If Thranduil had truly implemented his previous plan to form ranks for an attack on the Lonely Mountain, the flank would have been right under the Ironfoot Army’s edge.

"Alright, we must also demonstrate our strength; otherwise, if Sorlin Oak Shield inside the Lonely Mountain thinks he has gained an advantage, that would be troublesome."

Saying this, Thranduil set down his wine cup and stood up to put on his armor.

Lann, standing outside the marching tent, looked at the dwarven military formation on the opposite hill without turning his head.

"No, don’t deploy the Elf Army; stay inside the city for now."

"I believe Gandalf has already completed the discussion, and we shouldn’t stir any sensitive nerves at this time. We’ll head over alone."

Thranduil thought it over but didn’t say anything.

If the Ironfoot Army did intend to back Sorlin Oak Shield, they would have to come and fight.

River Valley City, though old and dilapidated, still had a distinct outline. Defending inside and not venturing out was to their advantage.

And paired with the elves’ centuries-old coordination and their leaf-like agility, the dwarves wouldn’t have an advantage in street battles.

So, a few minutes later, Lann, Bard, and Thranduil met outside River Valley City and approached the three who had descended the hill.

On the vast plain before the gates of the Lonely Mountain, large moving shadows were occasionally cast by the clouds above.

The earth of a khaki hue carried an air of desolation and murderousness.

This barren land didn’t seem large, yet when the six people looked across it, their counterparts still appeared like ants standing on the horizon.

When Lann and his group got close enough, it was only under Gandalf’s urging that the dwarf riding the war pig reluctantly advanced.

Yet even then, there was a considerable distance between them and Gandalf.

"You look truly exhausted, Gandalf."

The Old Wizard arrived a step ahead for the meeting, but Lann looked at his tired and helpless face, appearing even more worn out than when he had just escaped from Dorguldu and arrived at River Valley City.

Gandalf, utterly weary, pinched the bridge of his nose, his gray-white hair drooping under his pointed hat, looking quite drained.

"Honestly, Lann, if the dragon-mad Sorlin is really tougher to handle than Dane, I can’t imagine how you managed to persuade him back then."

"One needs a strategy in words, a plan in actions, and most importantly, to maintain the initiative in the conversation." Lann, seated on the back of a Qilin, with his height advantage, could easily see the reluctant pig-riding Dwarf following behind.

"Tell me, Gandalf, how many of these did you accomplish?"

The Old Wizard shook his head without answering.

Traveling overnight with Gandalf, the intermediary Dwarf was Balin.

He was faster than the pig-riding Dwarf, but still slower than Gandalf, arriving only after the conversation started.

Under the clatter of goat hooves, the Old Dwarf with a white beard looked unwell and was pressing on his back.

"Ah, I’m too old for this, I shouldn’t be riding goats at my age."

Bard, riding a horse, approached, leaning down to pat the Old Dwarf encouragingly, "You’ve done well, Balin. And you still look full of energy now."

The Old Dwarf waved his hand weakly, "Don’t flatter me, if we can avoid battle, my back would feel it’s worth it."

"I thought my whole life that I would die out there and become a wandering ghost. To be able to return to the Lonely Mountain now, I couldn’t ask for more. I don’t care about the gold, as long as our people can go home, that’s better than anything."

Bard nodded; the people of Long Lake Town felt similarly lost and displaced.

After the pleasantries, Bard looked at the pig-riding Dwarf about to arrive and asked in a lowered voice, "We don’t want a war, and they don’t want to fight us either, right?"

The Dwarven army inspired awe and made Bard cautious.

"Dane keeps his promises," Balin reassured, "Last night, I testified clearly about the affairs and losses of Long Lake Town. Dane has no issue with the gold compensation for Long Lake Town. He also thinks Sorlin went a bit too far."

Meanwhile, Thranduil, sitting on a great stag, narrowed his eyes keenly.

There was no problem with the gold of Long Lake Town, yet they were still so aggressive... does that mean their issue was with the Elves?

Indeed, donning heavy helmets and armor, riding sturdy boars, another Dwarf came strolling closer.

In his hand was a square-headed hammer the size of a human head.

"You’re the ones besieging the Lonely Mountain?"

As he approached, people realized this was a very typical Dwarf.

His beard was lush, his build stout, with his facial hair braided into tusk-like shapes and curled upward.

Just like a fierce and brash wild boar.

And his words and demeanor indeed matched.

"Alright, my cousin Sorlin took back the Lonely Mountain, and immediately you besiege it when he’s isolated!"

Despite being a head shorter than the others, Dane, on the striding boar, seemed to be encircling them.

The large square-headed hammer in his hand kept rotating as if a skilled carpenter was getting familiar with its heft before any serious work, ready to smash down anytime.

"And you wish to extort the treasure we Dwarves accumulated in the Lonely Mountain!"

Lann calmly looked at the hot-tempered ’Dwarf Shorty’ before him, "Let me clarify, I have not extorted; Sorlin Oak Shield himself admitted my rightful claim to a part of that treasure."

"Yes, I heard Balin mention it last night," Dane stood unshaken, "But that’s separate from everything else! The money we owe, we will pay, but national territory issues cannot have interference! You are besieging the Lonely Mountain, so all other discussions must wait their turn!"

"Resolve this matter before thinking of bringing up anything else!"

Although responding to Lann, the boorish Dwarf was consistently addressing Thranduil on the stag.

The meaning was clear.

It annoyed the Elf King to the point where his eyes bulged and that delicate face was almost driven to laughter by anger.

"But regarding the army of Beastmen, doesn’t that have to come before all other matters?"

In the tense, almost about to burst atmosphere, Lann suddenly spoke.

This made not only Thranduil but even Dane deflate his anger.

This almost didn’t need to be said; the animosity between Elves, Dwarves, and Beastmen had lasted for millennia.

This was not just racial hatred but a confrontation between good and evil in this unique world.

The stag, tapping a few steps, inadvertently turned away from Dane, guided Thranduil to look aside.

And Ironfoot Dane also gave a cold snort, making the wild boar that was circling around return to face forward.

"Indeed, those beastly mongrels!"

Dane’s tone resembled a hungry wolf chewing bones.

"Gandalf spoke to me all night with nonsense, yet we still don’t know where that filthy army is!"

"Our Dwarven axes and hammers are invincible, but we can’t cut through air or break the wind. You must tell me where those Oke are! Where that bastard Azog is! Better do so before I run out of patience!"

"Yes, we are wondering the same thing," Lann seemed to be the only person who could have a calm conversation with this hot-tempered Dwarf, Dane.

For some reason, even if Dane wanted to lose his temper at him, he just couldn’t find the fire.

Dane felt as if this guy always had a reasonable point... damn it.

"According to forecasts, their power-gathering efficiency is incredibly high. Their movements should also be extremely swift."

Lann looked to Gandalf, the Old Wizard nodded, acknowledging the truth of this indeed.