Chapter 47: The Dwarven Marquis and the Centaur Clan’s Unwarranted Calamity

The day after the gnolls departed, the serfs who had been hiding in the castle returned to their village, dismantled the traps they had set, and, under the command of the knights, threw themselves into busy work, striving to earn their freedom from servitude.

The territory’s army, under Baird’s tutelage, trained with renewed vigor, seeking to strengthen their abilities.

The knight squires, each under the guidance of their respective knights, steadily improved their skills.

Orlando and Hebrew spent their days training alongside their contracted companions, deepening their bond in hopes of linking their energies as soon as possible, forming the battle beast described in the mysterious orb’s records.

Meanwhile, the second phase of the castle’s construction commenced simultaneously, with the aim of completing it by March of the following year.

As lord of Lake Starfall, Verin was not idle for the entirety of December.

He rose punctually each morning, engaging in training to grow stronger.

Compared to the tranquility of Lake Starfall, the rest of the Calrod Province was engulfed in turmoil. In the western reaches of the Kingdom of Ilia, numerous monsters crossed the buffer zones, reaching the border regions, where they clashed with royal troops and private armies of other nobles.

At the same time, news of the four-territory alliance’s seizure of the mountain copper mine reached certain ears.

In the southwestern region of the Ironforge Dwarf Mountain Kingdom, within a grand and imposing castle, Marquis Dalrag Ironforge sat upon his iron throne, listening to his subordinate’s report, his expression growing increasingly grim.

“My lord, according to the reports of the gryphon knights, more than two hundred men escorting the mountain copper mine have all vanished. Using the search magic scrolls you provided, we found their last traces two hundred kilometers from the border of the human Kingdom of Ilia. This is what was recovered.” The dwarf pulled out a centaur warrior’s token from his robes and respectfully offered it with both hands.

On Dalrag’s left, a silver-armored, high-ranking silver warrior descended the steps, received the token, and handed it reverently to the dwarf marquis.

Dalrag examined the token closely, instantly recognizing it as one unique to the centaur clans, crafted from the remains of a mighty centaur, symbolizing the inheritance of their people.

“What else did you find?”

The dwarf kneeling in the center of the hall replied in a low voice, “My lord, aside from this item, no other clues were discovered.”

“It seems these rats are quite cautious—they even used scent-masking potions.”

His tone was indifferent, yet the chill in the air was piercing.

The dozen or so high-ranking silver dwarf guards in the hall felt immense pressure, as if death was poised to strike at any moment.

The reporting dwarf, at the very center, bore the brunt of Dalrag’s soul-crushing aura, collapsing flat onto the floor, too terrified to make a sound.

Moments later, a mid-tier golden dwarf warrior entered the hall and knelt for orders.

“Karack.”

“My lord,” Karack, the golden dwarf warrior, answered loudly.

“I grant you three hundred warhammer warriors, one thousand mountain goat riders, and three thousand dwarf soldiers. Recover my losses tenfold from the centaur clans.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Karack caught the token Dalrag tossed to him, saluted, and promptly left the hall.

A few minutes later, Dalrag spoke again: “Monitor the human markets. If news of mountain copper ore trading emerges, report to me at once.”

“Yes, my lord.” The subordinate, trembling, hurriedly withdrew.

Dalrag rhythmically tapped his iron throne, the blows resounding throughout the hall. Speaking to himself, he murmured, “Such a crude attempt to frame someone. Whoever you are, pray I never discover your identity.”

As for why he would attack the centaurs despite knowing the truth—he had his reasons.

After all, he could not suffer such losses in vain. With the true culprit still at large, he would seize tenfold compensation from the most immediate and obvious target.

This batch of mountain copper had been mined from a sparse, scattered vein in the wilderness, shipped once a month.

To avoid attracting attention, the escort was led by only a high-ranking silver dwarf warrior. In Dalrag’s domain, every gold-level fighter was closely watched by all sides and could not simply disappear for long.

“Ten years remain before His Majesty the King launches war to reclaim lost territories from the Kingdom of Ilia. I must hasten my collection of minerals, forge weapons, and train my army, so I may profit handsomely from the coming conflict.”

Five thousand well-equipped troops departed Dalrag’s lands, heading west towards the Greyglow Wasteland, directly into centaur territory.

At one centaur clan encampment, over a thousand centaurs had been decapitated, their heads stacked neatly upon the wild plain.

Karack, the golden dwarf warrior, dragged the mid-tier silver centaur chieftain to the ground, stomped on his head, produced the token, and demanded, “Tell me, to which clan does this token belong?”

“Filthy, lowborn dwarf! This is the Greyglow Wasteland—my god will see you punished!” The centaur chieftain glared fiercely at Karack, unafraid of death.

“I mean no offense to Chiron the Crowned, god of the centaurs, but that gives you no right to disrespect me.”

With a wave of Karack’s hand, more than twenty centaur children were smashed to pulp beneath warhammers.

“If you tell me which centaur clan this token hails from, I’ll spare a seed for your people.”

“Never.”

Thereafter, every captured centaur—over a hundred in total—died beneath the dwarves’ hammers.

The defiant centaur chieftain met the same fate, his skull crushed by Karack, who wrenched free a sharp fang to keep as a trophy.

Karack then led his army onward, raiding centaur clans, seizing horses and anything of value, searching for the clan to whom the token belonged.

Only after destroying six centaur clans and slaughtering over four thousand centaurs did Karack finally get the information he wanted.

...

The Magram Clan, a small branch of the Hammerdusk clan—one of the thirteen centaur clans chosen by the god—numbered fifteen thousand, with eight vassal centaur clans, thriving on the borderlands of the Ironforge Dwarf Mountain Kingdom.

Recently, when Clan Chief Marm learned that the Azure-Purple Horse, escorted by his daughter Arya, had been lost, he stripped her of her status as successor and imprisoned her, awaiting a marriage alliance with a neighboring clan the following year.

Meanwhile, Marm was preparing diligently, selecting brave centaur warriors and archers. Once the monster armies at the human border withdrew, he planned to lead a grand force to exact brutal revenge on the humans.

For now, however, he dared not move, lest his people be used as cannon fodder.

At this very moment, Karack’s dwarf army was drawing near the Magram Clan, unaware that they were about to face utter destruction.