On the city wall built of slag,
Upon hearing Irene explain her purpose, the Dwarven King, Herbert Alexander, expressed his gratitude with spit flying everywhere. “My Lord of Earth and Mountains! For you to lend a helping hand at a time like this, I am truly... hic... endlessly grateful... urgh!!”
“As a part of the Eastern Continent, this is my duty.”
Brushing it off with a casual remark, Irene furrowed her beautiful brow, her gaze sweeping up and down this dwarf who let out a wine-scented hiccup every now and then.
Even though she had cooperated with the Dwarven Empire for many years, this was her first time meeting the Dwarven King in person.
Although she had imagined the Dwarven King's appearance many times before, actually seeing him now only gave Irene a strange sense of dissonance.
The dwarf before her reeked heavily of alcohol. His short-sleeved, coarse linen shirt was covered in wine stains, his long-neglected beard emitted a faint, unpleasant odor, and his greasy face looked incredibly haggard, with dark circles weighing heavily around his deep-set, sunken eyes.
In his hand, he held a transparent glass bottle.
Recognizing the familiar glass bottle, Irene could tell at a glance that the clear liquid remaining inside—barely half a bottle—was a product of their own Black Dragon Empire: the Water of Life.
In truth, it was just alcohol that had been distilled repeatedly until its purity reached nearly a hundred percent.
The only thing that proved this guy was the Dwarven King was likely the pair of two-handed battle-axes strapped to his back.
The stark white blades of the axes seemed to be crafted from the bones of some creature, yet they gleamed with a faint metallic luster, giving off an extremely dangerous vibe.
Irene could clearly sense the aura of her own kind radiating from those battle-axes.
Coupled with the rumor that the king of the Dwarven Empire had once thrashed a white dragon and used its two fangs to forge a pair of two-handed battle-axes,
she could finally confirm that this utterly listless fellow before her was indeed the Dwarven King.
And not some cheap counterfeit.
What puzzled Irene, however, was that this fellow—who was nearly two heads shorter than her—had fallen completely silent after their initial greeting, his eyes glued to a single spot.
His stunned expression looked exactly as if he had just seen his best bro suddenly cross-dressing and parading down the street.
Irene shifted her gaze slightly, following Herbert's line of sight, only to see that Charlotte—who had been vomiting nonstop earlier due to her apparent 'dragon sickness'—had finally stopped and was now staring back at Herbert with an extremely awkward expression.
Noticing Irene's gaze, Charlotte quickly pretended as if nothing had happened and began dry-heaving toward the ground again.
Irene hesitated for a moment before acting as if she hadn't noticed anything. With a face full of concern, she asked, “Your Highness Herbert, you don't seem to be in a very good state?”
Suddenly hearing this, Herbert finally snapped out of it, pulling his gaze away from Christine. A barely perceptible look of confusion flashed across his face before it quickly morphed back into a sorrowful expression.
“It's all because of that damned mutant beast tide. To hold them back, I haven't had a single decent night's sleep in almost a year.”
As he spoke, Herbert raised his rough hand and poured the last drops of the clear liquid from the glass bottle into his mouth.
His Adam's apple bobbed twice. Once the bottle was completely empty, he held it high with a satisfied look, tilted his head back, and continued to Irene, who stood a bit taller than him, “Thanks to this good stuff. Otherwise, I probably wouldn't have held out for so long.”
“To hell with it! Let's not talk about that anymore.” Herbert tossed the bottle aside and began leading the way. “Follow me.”
“Although those tall folks haven't found the Mutant Matriarch yet, they've left quite a few anchors underground.”
“Those anchors were originally meant for incoming reinforcements, but right now, the high-end combatants of the Eastern Kingdoms are all pinned down by the beast tides. They won't be able to provide underground support anytime soon.”
“It works out perfectly. You can use a magic array to teleport directly to those anchors. By following the markers left behind, you'll be able to meet up with the Subjugation Army.”
At this point, his steps paused, and he turned to look at the densely packed stone houses within the city.
“If I weren't worried about these young rascals getting swallowed by the beast tide, I would have run underground to hunt down that damn Mutant Matriarch myself long ago.”
Watching Herbert grumble as he walked further away, Irene glanced at 'Charlotte'—who had stood up at some point and was now meticulously tidying up her appearance—and followed him.
Arthas followed closely behind.
Seeing that Irene didn't say anything, Christine let out a slightly dejected sigh and pouted. Realizing the three figures were drifting further away, he hurriedly ran after them, his legs clad in white thigh-high stockings moving briskly.
His leather shoes made a crisp click-clack on the slag-covered ground.
...
After twisting and turning along the path, the group of four left the city wall and entered a dark mine shaft.
The mine shaft was silent. Railway tracks were laid out on the ground, the wooden ties blackened and weathered beyond recognition due to their age.
Oil lamps on the walls crackled from time to time, their weak flames barely illuminating the path ahead.
Walking at the rear, Arthas glanced at Irene. Receiving a nod of approval, he suddenly asked in a raspy voice,
“Your Excellency Dwarven King.” His voice echoed continuously in the empty mine shaft; a normal person would have found it spine-chilling.
Fortunately, none of those present were ordinary. Herbert didn't even slow his pace. He merely cast a sidelong glance at this little lich brought by the Queen of the Black Dragon Empire, gesturing for him to go on.
“How much do you know about the current situation in the Underdark? How is the Subjugation Army's progress?”
“Have they found any trace of the Mutant Matriarch?”
“Of course they haven't found that damned Matriarch yet, not even a trace,” Herbert spat, his steps remaining steady. “You'd never guess how massive the Underdark beneath our feet is, or how complex the terrain is.”
“It's layer upon layer of subterranean structures. Damn it, who knows how long those wretched drow bitches have lived down there, turning the Underdark into a complete labyrinth!”
“Oh, right!”
“The last magic communication from those tall folks mentioned that, according to their estimates, this Underdark is divided into at least twenty layers by solid rock.”
“The number of mutated creatures on each layer is terrifyingly high.”
Herbert grew more worked up as he spoke. His long-term lack of rest made his temper like a powder keg, ready to explode at any moment. From time to time, he spat out a string of dwarven dialect, seemingly cursing.
Only after a long while did he calm down, sighing, “...Damn it all!”
“As of now, the Subjugation Army has only just finished exploring the seventh layer...”
This is more troublesome than I imagined. Irene listened in silence, feeling incredibly relieved that she hadn't charged straight in from the start. Even a Subjugation Army led by Legendary figures was struggling to make progress; if she had blindly rushed in, she would have undoubtedly run into trouble.
Rate on N.U.
