Chapter 250: Dwarf Engineering, Ultimatum

Ironforge, on the fringe of the Dwarven Kingdom, stands at the threshold where the realm of the mountain-folk meets the territories of other races in the southeast.

Ironforge is a fortress built upon the border, a bulwark designed to divide, where volcanic lava flows through man-made channels to encircle the entire stronghold, forming a natural barrier.

This moat of molten rock guards the pass, heating the fortress to a temperature that most races, save for the dwarves, find utterly unbearable.

"Oh, Toby, how goes the Deep Excavation Project? I simply cannot endure this life any longer. The heat here is stifling—though I feel nothing, my spirits certainly do. You have no idea what it is like to take a sudden gulp of soured ale."

In this colossal fortress of steel, near the side bordering the Elven lands, lies a massive pit. Many dwarves can be seen crawling along the scaffolding at its edge, swinging pickaxes and hammers to strike the rock face and widen the chasm.

A track, much like a railway, follows the less steep "stairs" carved into the pit walls, winding deep into the abyss. The dwarf calling out to Toby stands upon this very track—or, more precisely, upon the "train" currently traversing it.

A steel behemoth, a serpentine crawler; these words describe the train well. The dwarves' masterful smithing is not limited to weapons and armor; their prowess with such massive magi-mechanical constructs is in a league of its own.

This dwarf stands

atop the massive armored train as it descends into the depths of the pit. The one he calls, Toby, is the driver and captain of this metallic beast.

"Shut your trap, you foolish brass ingot! The elders surely warned you to bring the 'strong' stuff when you left, but you ignored them, didn't you? You brought the swill you prefer instead!"

The iron door of the cab is kicked open by a short, thick leg, and a bearded, rugged head pokes out to berate the dwarf standing atop the train.

"Blast it, I don't like that rotgut! They are trying to kill me! Can't they authorize a single alchemical cooling unit for me? I am the Chief Engineer on this project, after all! I, Olaf, refuse to go without my favorite brew!"

Stung by Toby’s rebuke, Olaf grows even more incensed, waving the wrench he has been clutching and roaring at the sky.

"Hmph, you aren't the only Chief Engineer here. Don't think that title grants you special treatment. The cooling units were all diverted to the engine. I could spare one, but if I start that, what will the others demand?"

Toby scoffs, indifferent to Olaf’s raving, and dismisses the request with a cold, logical retort.

"Damn it! There is a difference between Chief Engineers, you know! Is my skill not superior to theirs? Tell you what, get me one, and if anyone else complains, tell them to come find me and settle it with a duel. If they win,

they can have my unit!"

Olaf bellows in righteous indignation, pulling the adamantine hammer from his back and swinging it about, detailing his entirely impractical plan to Toby.

"Watch your head, the train is entering the tunnel. It isn't as spacious as the open channels outside..."

Toby glares at the ranting Olaf above, then retreats into the belly of the steel beast and slams the door.

"Eh?"

"Thud!"

"Owwwww-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh!"

Olaf, caught off guard by the sudden warning, lets out a confused sound. But he realizes the meaning instantly as the tunnel narrows sharply, the stone walls pressing in from all sides, leaving no room for a dwarf to stand atop the train.

His horned helmet slams into the ceiling with a deafening crack, and the dwarf is sent flying backward.

...

"Clack, clack, clack..."

The train wheels release a series of gears that mesh with the axles, slowing the momentum with a firm, mechanical grace.

"Whoosh~"

As the wheels cease their rotation, glowing red-hot from the friction of the gears and the brake pads, the train grinds to a halt against the final buffer. Arrival.

"Clang!"

The door of the lead carriage opens, and Toby steps out.

"Come help unload the cargo, then report with me. The engineering preparations are nearly complete. Once all you engineers have arrived, we can begin."

Toby shouts toward the rear of the steel beast, then walks to the center of the train and pulls a lever. The side of the carriage slowly detaches, folding down to reveal a hoard of mineral ingots and mechanical components.

"Blast it, this tunnel is too narrow! I couldn't even climb back up, I just clung to the rear and ate a mouthful of dust."

Olaf trudges over from the back, his stout, sturdy frame covered in grime. Aside from a dent in his horned helmet that reveals a thick, tangled mess of brown hair, he is perfectly fine. A collision with a stone wall is nothing to him.

A Dwarven Great Knight—the terrifying physical resilience of a knight, combined with the naturally thick hide of his race, makes Olaf exceptionally durable.

The horned helmet is more of a decoration than armor; he could collide with this train and, provided he isn't crushed, walk away with nothing more than a few broken bones.

Together with Toby, he heaves at another mechanism, shifting the structure to slide the materials onto the platform.

"Let's go. You’re likely the last, or among the last. Once you register and review the blueprints, we start."

Toby closes the carriage, ignoring the materials on the platform; other dwarves will handle them later.

The train is currently parked in a cavernous space carved deep underground. The surroundings are

nothing but raw, freshly chiseled rock walls, barely smoothed over. Lighting is sparse, provided only by mana-crystal lamps along the main paths, leaving the rest of the area in near-total darkness.

"This place is too primitive. Can we really build anything here?"

Olaf scans the environment, scratching his dense, hairy forehead with a skeptical look.

"Your opinion is irrelevant. The elders are certain the Kingdom’s greatest masterpiece will be born here. Do you think you are wiser than those sages?"

Toby retorts, leading Olaf toward their destination.

"True enough. When it comes to brains, those old geezers are better. I’ll just stick to forging iron and crafting alloys."

Olaf possesses that characteristic dwarven honesty; what might be an insult to a human is, to them, simply a matter of fact.

The two dwarves reach the end of the docking area and enter a passage connecting to other sectors.

"What is this? Wow, feels quite pleasant. Is this some new alchemical work from those gnomes? It looks like real tree roots. I have to admit, those little runts have a knack for things."

Olaf touches the thick, exposed tree roots embedded in the tunnel walls. As his palm makes contact, a surge of energy flows through the bark into his body, leaving him feeling refreshed and strangely light.

Delighted, he asks Toby what it is, completely oblivious to the fact that he is calling the gnomes—who are roughly their own height—"little runts."

"Those are the branching roots of the World Tree. Not some gnome trinket; they are real plants. Don't touch them. These roots have a higher purpose; they aren't here to recharge your stamina."

Toby responds sharply, forcing Olaf to pull his hand away.

"The World Tree? Isn't that the long-ears' prized possession? Why would they let us use it? And what use is it to us?"

Olaf blinks, even more confused by the mention of the World Tree.

"Can you not study your history? You don't know this? When the World Tree was split in three, we dwarves and the elves were much closer allies than we are now. We helped them immensely with the migration and rooting of the World Tree."

"To repay that debt, the Elves and Dwarves signed a pact. A branch of the World Tree’s roots would extend to the border of the Dwarven Kingdom, creating a special environment rich in life force—which is exactly where we are."

Toby explains with a hint of irritation; for a dwarf to keep his temper and speak without roaring is a rare feat indeed.

"Oh, Grandfather, I’m not as old as you. It’s only natural I wouldn't know things I didn't experience firsthand, isn't it?"

Olaf covers his ears impatiently. To stop the lecture from the dwarf he just addressed by name, he reveals their true relationship, hoping to silence his grandfather’s nagging.

In the dwarven race, it is difficult to distinguish the old from the young. Aside from the fact that children lack beards and have distinct, messy hair, a young adult dwarf and an elder both sport full, thick beards that make them look like middle-aged men. Dwarves can tell, but other races rarely can.

"Damn it all. You’re the only one in the Copperbeard clan without a lick of learning, yet you’re one of our only two Chief Engineers. I truly cannot fathom it."

Olaf’s grandfather, Toby Copperbeard, curses in frustration. Even this composed train captain is at his wit's end with his unlearned but talented grandson.

"Oh, Grandfather, let’s go! Enough! As long as I have the title of Chief Engineer, does it matter how I got it?"

Olaf regrets asking about the roots, pushing Toby forward to get his grandfather to stop talking and lead him to the place where he will be working for the foreseeable future.

The pair followed the sprawling roots of the World Tree as they wound through the tunnel, the sounds of their destination beginning to echo toward them.

"Oh, praise the God of the Forge, what a sweet melody—perhaps going without a drink isn't so unbearable after all!"

Olaf cried out in excitement as he listened to the clamor, his eyes gleaming with palpable anticipation.

The rhythmic clanging of hammers striking metal upon anvils rang out incessantly; for dwarves, who possessed both a profound talent and a deep love for the craft of smithing, this cacophonous environment was far more comforting than any silence.

Stepping out of the passage, the scene ahead revealed itself in full: a subterranean cavern far more expansive than the place where the train had come to a halt.

Scaffolding anchored into the rock extended deep into the abyss, and dwarves bustled across these tiered platforms, ferrying metal ingots or finished components to their rightful places to be further forged by smiths or assembled into alchemical machinery and specialized tools.

Below lay a bottomless void—one could only guess how deep the dwarves had carved—while massive mechanical arms, bearing the unmistakable aesthetic of the gnomes and composed of gears, drive shafts, and hydraulic pistons, were bolted to the cavern’s vaulted ceiling.

Under the guidance of dwarven engineers, these colossal limbs exerted strength far beyond mortal limits, hoisting heavy materials and massive parts with ease.

"Whoo! I don't even want a drink anymore. Grandfather, could I operate one of those arms? They are just—they are simply magnificent!"

Olaf’s eyes burned with fervor as he stared at the heavy industrial beauty of the mechanical giants, tugging at the arm of his grandfather, Toby. His hands had been itching to grip his adamantine hammer since they entered the chamber, and now, confronted with such marvels, he could barely contain himself.

"Quiet now, go register first. Hmm, why is Jenkins Ironaxe looking for me? I’ll go see, you stay here."

Toby ignored the clamoring of his grandson—a lad he wasn't sure was promising or merely reckless—as he noticed a dwarf beckoning him and immediately began to make his way over.

Olaf watched helplessly as his grandfather walked off to converse with a dwarf of similar age.

"What!"

Suddenly, a roar from his grandfather startled Olaf, the unvarnished fury in the shout making him shudder. It reminded him of the time in his youth when he had stolen a drink of his grandfather's ale and was tossed from the heights of Ironforge; his grandfather hadn't even been that angry then. What could have happened?

"Those long-eared fools have issued us an ultimatum? They demand we halt the deep-excavation project now, abandon all our hard-won progress, and cease using the World Tree?"

"How dare they! That is not what the agreement stipulated, damn them! This is impossible; we will never abandon the fruits of our long labor. Tell that messenger to get lost—there is no room for negotiation. We will never abandon the plan!"