Chapter 131 The Elf's Peace Warning In the military camp of the Forge Court...
Inside the Forge Royal Court's military camp, there was a chilling atmosphere of both stagnation and fervor, completely at odds with the darkness.
Thousands of heavily armored dwarven warriors gathered in the flickering torchlight. The cold iron armor reflected the dancing flames.
Sorek stood on the high command platform, clad in his family's heirloom rune-inlaid black iron armor, wielding a massive battle axe. The song that had quietly spread through the city a few days ago had deeply resonated within his already restless heart.
"...We're the ones fighting on the battlefield, they're the ones hoarding and making a fortune..."
This is not only a challenge to his authority, but also a trampling of his dignity as crown prince. If he does not deliver a resounding victory to silence everyone, he will completely lose the support of the people and be nailed to the pillar of shame in the history of the Crucible Court.
Behind him, a barely perceptible smug smile played on Green's lips. This was all part of his plan. He intended to use the anger and despair of the people to push Thorek, this already irrational lion, completely into the abyss of war.
"Soldiers!" Thorek raised his battle axe, pointing it at the scattered campfires in the distant human camp. "Those cowardly humans thought they could buy off our dwarven dignity with a few small favors, thought they could escape the wrath of the Forge Court by hiding in their tortoise shells! They are wrong!"
"At dawn tomorrow," he announced, "we will launch a general offensive, smashing their shells with our battle axes and warhammers, and reclaiming our food and dignity! This time, we will make them completely drive them out of our land!"
"roar--!!!"
Thousands of dwarven warriors simultaneously raised their weapons and roared deafeningly. Wave after wave, the roar shook the torches in the camp violently.
The massive catapult was slowly pushed to the front lines, loaded with boulders the size of millstones. The heavy battering rams, propelled by dozens of strong men, roared dully. The iron wheels of the war machine ground deep grooves. Clearly, Sorek was prepared to wash away the humiliation of the past few days with sheer violence, at any cost.
Just as the military camp was in an uproar, a dusty dwarf blacksmith quietly crept to the hidden sentry post at the edge of the camp.
“It’s me, Stonehammer,” the dwarf said in a low voice.
The sentry recognized him; he was the blacksmith who had secretly left the city a few days ago to study at the human camp.
"Stone Hammer? What brings you here?" the sentry asked warily. "Didn't you say you were going to study the technique of roasting sweet potatoes?"
“That’s why I’m here.” Stone Hammer’s face was very serious, completely lacking the excitement he had when he was studying. “I have important intelligence and I must see the general in charge of the front-line defense immediately.”
The sentry hesitated for a moment, but seeing the eager glint in Stonehammer's eyes, he finally took him to see General Ironbeard.
Inside the military tent, Ironbeard was reviewing the map of tomorrow's attack route. Seeing Stonehammer enter, he frowned: "Aren't you the blacksmith who went to learn how to roast sweet potatoes? What are you doing in the camp?"
Shi Chui immediately knelt on one knee: "General, I have come to repay your kindness."
"Repay a debt of gratitude?" Tie Xu asked, puzzled.
“Yes.” Stonehammer raised his head, his eyes resolute. “On the human side, the Hope Merchant Guild treated us dwarves who came to learn extremely well. They not only provided us with three meals a day for free and taught us the techniques for free, but they even gave us ingredients to practice with. Master Shirt said that they only hope that we can learn the techniques and go back to give our families a better life.”
He paused, his voice choked with emotion: "General, the best food I've ever eaten in my life was during those three days. The expressions on my children's faces when they first tasted soy milk... I'll never forget them."
"So?" Ironbeard's tone softened somewhat.
“So I can’t just stand by and watch our benefactor get attacked.” Stonehammer pulled a small bag from his pocket. “This afternoon, I went to the black market to buy some dried sweet potatoes, but I overheard some things I shouldn’t have heard. Lord Green’s men are secretly buying up arrows and fuel in huge quantities. And they specifically instructed the merchants to keep it a secret, saying that ‘it will be very useful at dawn tomorrow.’”
Ironbeard's eyes sharpened instantly: "Continue."
“I knew something was wrong right away,” Stonehammer continued, “so I pretended to want to buy weapons and got more information out of him. Green had not only prepared a large number of firearms, but also secretly mobilized three hundred elite archers to set fire to the human camp’s granaries and armories with fire arrows during the siege.”
"What?!" Ironbeard stood up, his face ashen. "That bastard is pushing things to an irreversible point!"
“And it gets worse,” Stonehammer said in a low voice. “I heard that Lord Green has advised Prince Thorek to leave no survivors. He wants to turn this war into a massacre so that humans will never dare to set foot in dwarven territory again.”
Ironbeard took a deep breath and paced back and forth in the tent. Although he was a proponent of war, he wasn't a madman. If things really escalated to the point of massacring the entire city, the dwarven kingdom would face a siege from the entire human world.
“General,” Stonehammer kowtowed again, “I know I might be called a traitor for doing this, but I cannot go against my conscience. When those humans taught me the skills, their eyes were sincere; when they fed my child soy milk, their smiles were warm. I cannot let my benefactors die because of our conspiracy.”
Ironbeak looked at the rough but sincere blacksmith and remained silent for a long time.
“You did the right thing,” he finally said. “Dwarves can be brave, but not despicable. I will handle this.”
"Thank you, General!" Shi Chui said with a sigh of relief.
“However,” Ironbeard suddenly said, “you must stay in the camp tonight and cannot leave. I need to make sure the news doesn’t leak out.”
“I understand.” Stonehammer nodded. “Anything is fine as long as it stops that massacre.”
Shortly after Stonehammer left, several other dwarves who had also returned from studying in human camps conveyed similar warnings to different generals through various channels.
Old miner Gorm found his former boss, a quartermaster in charge of logistics.
“My lord, I must tell you something,” Gorm said. “The weapons Lord Green is secretly preparing are not only for attacking the city, but also for destroying evidence.”
"What evidence?"
“Evidence regarding his hoarding of food and poisoning,” Gorm said in a low voice. “He wanted to take advantage of the chaos of the war to silence everyone who knew the truth. I overheard his men discussing on the black market that they wanted to quietly eliminate a few troublesome moderate elders during the fighting.”
The quartermaster's expression changed: "Are you sure?"
“Absolutely true,” Gom said. “I may be a rough man, but I know what’s right and wrong. When the humans taught me how to make tofu, they told us something: ‘Food is for nourishing life, not for threatening it.’ I think they were right.”
On the other side of the camp, several young dwarf soldiers were whispering among themselves.
"Have you heard? Tomorrow's attack is actually a trap."
"What trap?"
"When my cousin was learning to make sweet potatoes at the human camp, he overheard a conversation between Lord Ryan and his adjutant. They already knew we were going to attack and had made preparations."
"Then wouldn't we be..."
"Yes, we're going to our deaths. That bastard Green doesn't care about our lives at all; he just wants to use us to achieve his schemes."
These whispers spread throughout the barracks. More and more soldiers began to question the meaning of the war and to wonder what was really behind those impassioned slogans.
Meanwhile, at the human camp, the atmosphere in Ryan's command tent was heavy.
"My lord, according to our scouts, the dwarves have amassed at least five thousand heavy infantry, along with a large number of siege weapons," the adjutant said, pointing to the map. "Judging from their movements, their attack at dawn tomorrow is serious."
“I know,” Ryan said calmly, “but we are also prepared.”
He pointed to several locations on the map: "The first line of defense is the trap zone. We've dug a lot of pits around the camp and covered them with camouflage. The dwarves are strong, but their heavy armor will make them sink even deeper."
"The second line of defense is barricades and caltrops. Even if they break through the traps, they will be slowed down by these obstacles."
"The third line of defense is the archer phalanx. As Duke Kaslan's representative, we must respond appropriately to the dwarves' attack. But if the line is breached, we must also be prepared for an orderly retreat. We cannot knowingly send our soldiers to their deaths when we are outmatched."
The adjutant nodded, but his face still showed worry: "But sir, you know how strong the dwarves are. Once it comes to melee combat..."
“There won’t be any hand-to-hand combat,” Ryan interrupted him.
"There won't be any hand-to-hand combat?" the adjutant asked, puzzled.
Ryan didn't say much, looking at the eastern sky. A faint light of dawn was beginning to appear there.
Meanwhile, in another corner of the camp, Gray was inspecting weapons and equipment.
Ah Hu leaned closer and whispered, "Captain Gray, are you saying there's really going to be a fight tomorrow?"
Gray didn't answer, he just wiped the sword in his hand.
“But those dwarves…” Ah Hu hesitated for a moment, “I mean, those dwarves who came to learn, they are all good people. Uncle Stonehammer even said he would go back and teach more people how to make sweet potatoes.”
"War doesn't distinguish between good and bad people," Gray said calmly. "It only distinguishes between enemies and friends."
"Then we..."
"Be prepared and protect yourselves." Gray stood up and looked eastward as well. "However, things might take a turn for the better."
"What turning point?"
Gray did not answer.
The darkest hour before dawn.
The dwarven army has fully deployed.
Sorek, mounted on a heavily armored goat, raised his battle axe: "Warriors! For the glory of the Forge Court!"
"Glory!" the soldiers shouted in unison.
But amidst this unified chant, some voices clearly lacked their usual fervor.
Stonehammer was assigned to the logistics area by General Ironbeard, where he watched the battlefield from afar. He knew he had done his best, and the rest was up to fate.
Gom was also at the back of the column. He glanced furtively at the young soldiers beside him, children whose faces still bore the innocence of childhood. He thought of his son, and of the kind people he had met while learning in the human camp.
"I hope..." he prayed silently, "I hope this war doesn't actually break out."
Just then, a silver light suddenly appeared on the horizon and landed precisely on the open ground in front of the two armies.
As the light faded, a dozen tall and elegant figures clad in silver leaf armor quietly appeared before everyone.
They carried no heavy weapons, only beautifully designed longbows.
They are elves.
Leading the group was none other than Ilandil. He was still dressed in a simple, dark green robe, his silver hair fluttering gently in the morning breeze. He simply stood there calmly, but his pale golden eyes instilled a sense of awe in those who met his gaze.
“In the name of the Queen of Silvermoon Forest,” Elendil’s voice echoed clearly in everyone’s ears, “your war has severely damaged the ecological balance of this mountain region.”
He turned to Sorek, whose face had turned ashen from the sudden turn of events, and said in a cold voice, “Great Prince of the Dwarves, your ancestors swore an oath with us to protect the lifeblood of this land. Now your war is mercilessly scorching the mountains and disturbing the sleeping spirits of the rocks.”
Sorek's face flushed red, but he didn't explode immediately; elves were not beings to be trifled with.
“Elf messenger,” he said, struggling to suppress his anger, his voice tinged with resentment, “this is a war between dwarves and humans, and has nothing to do with Silvermoon Forest. We respect the elves, but please do not interfere in the internal affairs of the dwarves.”
“Internal affairs?” Ilandil’s tone was tinged with sarcasm. “When your catapults smash mountains, when your fuel pollutes rivers, when your wars burn the vegetation on the edge of forests, then it is no longer internal affairs.”
He pointed to the enormous catapults in front of the dwarves: "Every time these machines fire, they cause the ground to tremble within a radius of 100 meters. Three days ago, your test firing caused an underground water vein in the eastern valley to break. That place was originally the habitat of thirty-seven kinds of creatures."
He then pointed to the earthenware jars filled with fuel oil: "Once these fuels are used, the toxic fumes produced will drift at least ten kilometers with the wind. On the outskirts of Silvermoon Forest, there is an ancient field of evening primroses, which our elves have cultivated for centuries. Is your war intended to destroy them?"
Thorek was speechless. The elf was telling the truth, but he was unwilling to admit that his plan had been so easily exposed.
"So what?" Green suddenly stepped out from behind and said sarcastically, "The elves are high and mighty, so naturally they can ignore the life and death of us dwarves for a few blades of grass and a few insects. Our people are starving, our dignity is being trampled on, are we supposed to swallow our anger just because of a few of your leaves?"
Ilandil turned his gaze to Green, as if looking at a filthy worm.
"So you're the one who hoarded food and poisoned people?" His voice turned icy. "I've heard of you. For thousands of years, Silvermoon Forest has seen countless people like you—willing to sacrifice their own kind for personal gain, willing to sell their souls for power. People like you have a special name in the history of the elves: the termites of the forest."
Green's face turned deathly pale instantly.
To be publicly humiliated by the elves is an utter disgrace to anyone of status.
"You... what gives you the right to say that!" he roared, his voice trembling with fear.
“Because Silvermoon Forest has existed on this land for five thousand years,” Elendil said calmly. “Because we have seen too many people like you, and have watched them perish one by one.”
He paused, then turned his gaze back to Sorek: "Dwarf Prince, you are a warrior, and I respect your courage. But courage is not recklessness, and war is not slaughter."
“What did you say?” Solek frowned.
“What I’m saying is,” Ilandil’s voice grew more serious, “that some people around you are planning to turn this war into a massacre. They’re preparing not just sieges, but massacres. They’re preparing archers not just to kill soldiers, but also civilians.”
“You’re talking nonsense!” Grimm screamed. “This is slander! It’s a slander orchestrated by elves and humans!”
"Is that so?" Ilandil smiled faintly. "Then why did someone see your people buying up large quantities of arrows and fuel on the black market? Why is there a battle plan with the words 'Leave no survivors' written on it hidden in your secret room?"
Green's face turned completely ashen.
Sorek abruptly turned his head, staring intently at Green: "What he said... is true?"
“Your Highness, I…I can explain…” Green stammered.
“Enough,” Thorek interrupted him, his voice filled with anger and disappointment. “I, Thorek, may be warlike, but I am a dwarven warrior, not an executioner.”
He turned to Elendil, his face still showing resentment, but his tone had softened considerably: "Elf messenger, I have taken your warning to heart. But please do not assume that we dwarves will give up the fight because of a few words from you."
“We dwarves also possess a glory passed down for thousands of years, and we are not easily intimidated,” he said, raising his battle axe. “If you elves really want to interfere, then come and try, and see if your arrows are faster or our hammers are harder.”
The dwarven warriors behind him shouted in unison and raised their weapons.
Its indomitable spirit even made the elves nod in admiration.
Ilandil looked at Solek, a hint of admiration flashing in his eyes.
“Courage is commendable,” he said, “but courage misplaced is foolish.”
The elven warriors behind him simultaneously drew their longbows. The arrows, imbued with the blessing of wind, instantly glowed with a blue magical aura.
Each arrow, though seemingly light and flimsy, possesses the power to pierce through fine steel armor.
“Dwarf Prince, I’ll say it again,” Elendil’s voice turned icy, “Silvermoon Forest will not take sides. But we will use our own methods to balance all reckless acts that attempt to disrupt the harmony of nature.”
He pointed to the catapults and battering rams: "Those large siege weapons are not allowed to be used."
He then pointed to the vehicles loaded with fuel behind the dwarven camp: "Those incendiary weapons are also forbidden."
“If you insist on using it,” his eyes sharpened, “the Silvermoon Forest will see it as a declaration of war against the entire forest. Then you will not be facing a dozen or so elven scouts, but the entire elven army of the Silvermoon Forest.”
The air seemed to freeze at that moment.
Thorek gripped his battle axe tightly, the veins on the back of his hand bulging. He longed to rush forward and cleave the arrogant elf in two with the axe, but reason told him that doing so would only bring annihilation upon the dwarven kingdom.
To wage war against the elves was something even his father wouldn't dare to do.
“Fine.” He finally said through gritted teeth, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth, “Catapults and siege engines, we won’t use them. But elves, don’t think we dwarves will back down because of this.”
"We dwarves have warhammers and battleaxes; we don't need those fancy machines," he shouted, turning to his troops. "Brothers, take those catapults down! We will show humanity what true dwarven warriors are like in the most traditional way!"
"Roar!" The dwarven warriors roared in unison, their morale not only not lowered, but even higher.
Ilandil nodded slightly, indicating his approval of the decision.
His gaze swept across the human camp and suddenly stopped at a certain corner.
There, Gray stood quietly, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Their eyes met in mid-air, and then they both nodded slightly almost simultaneously.
This action was extremely stealthy and so fast that almost no one noticed it.
But Ryan saw it.
“So that’s how it is…” he murmured to himself.
The adjutant leaned closer: "Sir, what did you say?"
"It's nothing. Pass on my order: all heavy weapons are to be withdrawn to the rear of the camp. Since the elves have said so, we should naturally give them face."
“But sir, without the ballistae and darts, if the dwarves really charge over…” the adjutant said worriedly.
“No way.” Ryan laughed. “Look at Thorek. He’s more concerned with saving face in front of the elves than with actually fighting this battle.”
Just as Ryan had predicted.
After ordering the removal of heavy equipment, Solek did not immediately launch an attack.
He rode on a goat, looking at the human camp in the distance, at the human soldiers who were also retreating with heavy weapons.
“Elves…” he said through gritted teeth, “One day, I will show you that dwarves are not pawns to be manipulated at will.”
“Your Highness,” a lieutenant asked cautiously, “what…what do we do now?”
“Withdraw,” Sorek finally said, “but not out of fear, but… because the timing is wrong.”
He glanced at Green, who was being held by the guards: "Also, lock this traitor up. I want to interrogate him myself and see how much more he's hiding from me!"
"yes!"
The dwarf army began to slowly retreat.
Although they did not achieve the victory they desired, they at least preserved their dignity.
Meanwhile, the soldiers in the human camp breathed a sigh of relief as they watched the retreating dwarf army.
“My lord,” said the lieutenant, “the elves have arrived just in time.”
“Yes.” Ryan smiled meaningfully, “It’s so timely it’s like…it was timed perfectly.”
He looked in Gray's direction, but Gray had already disappeared into the crowd.
The elves had completed their arbitration task and were ready to leave.
As Ilandil turned around, he suddenly spoke: "The human city lord."
Ryan stepped forward: "What can I do for you, elven messenger?"
“The wastewater discharged from your camp,” Ilandil said calmly, “has flowed down into the underground river and polluted a tributary of our sacred spring. I hope you can deal with it as soon as possible.”
“Of course, of course,” Ryan said quickly. “I’ll arrange for people to dig drainage ditches right away, so that sewage will never flow into the underground river again.”
“Very good.” Ilandil nodded, then added, “Also, Lin Yue asked me to tell you, ‘The game has begun, it’s your turn to make a move.’”
Without waiting for Ryan's response, he led the elven warriors and disappeared into the morning light.
The silver light flashed again, and the elves left as silently as they had arrived.
Only the air between the two armies, still trembling slightly, remained, proving that what had just happened was not an illusion.
Ryan stood there, carefully savoring Elendil's last words.
"The game has begun, it's my turn to make a move..." he muttered to himself, then suddenly laughed, "Lin Yue, Lin Yue, you had everything planned out all along."
The adjutant asked, puzzled, "Sir, what are you saying?"
“It’s nothing.” Ryan turned and walked back to the camp. “Pass down the order to give all the soldiers extra food. Today we’ll have sweet potato porridge with Mapo tofu.”
"Huh?" The adjutant was stunned. "Sir, isn't the war still going on?"
“It’s over,” Ryan laughed. “The war was over the moment the elves appeared. What follows is not war, but negotiation.”
"But…"
"No buts." Ryan patted his adjutant on the shoulder. "Go and prepare. Oh, and make extra; send some to the dwarf camp later."
"Give it to the dwarves?" The adjutant's jaw nearly dropped in astonishment.
“Yes,” Ryan said seriously. “Just say it’s to thank them for their restraint today. A true opponent deserves respect.”
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