As Ryan led his army back to the County of Glamorgan after bidding farewell to François, winter had arrived. Snow began to fall once more, and Ryan suddenly realized he was nearly thirty-two. He chuckled at himself; time had indeed flown. He had left Nord at twenty-four as a knight and now, nearly thirty-two, he was a count.
Upon returning to his domain, Ryan disbanded the army, distributed pay and pensions, and sent his troops home for the Winter Veil Festival. The army's casualty rate was around 25%, which was manageable, though they would need time to recruit and recover.
One winter day, Ryan invited Belegar over to his vineyard for a visit. They sat in the dining hall, drinking and chatting. Belegar, holding a mug of beer, devoured a plate of roasted lamb leg.
"Oh, ho! It's snowing. I love snowy weather; it means I can stay inside my home and drink warm beer," Belegar said, stroking his white beard. "Ryan, your territory is great in every way except for one thing."
"And what's that?" Ryan thought to himself that Belegar never seemed to stop drinking beer.
Dwarfs drank beer like water, much like the urban freemen who no longer settled for the poor-quality Bretonnia ale and black bread typical of serfs. Their daily fare included beer (imported from the Empire), whole grain bread, vegetables, and fruit.
The rising class of freemen, spurred by ambitions beyond their previous stations, was now fascinated by Bertrand the Bowman's elevation to lordship, which Ryan needed to channel appropriately.
"Your territory lacks mountains, Ryan. Many dwarfs still aren't used to living under the open sky. The sky is too high, too far; we worry about falling into it," Belegar muttered. "You should be grateful that the Angrund clan has grown accustomed to wandering, so living on the plains isn't too bad for us. But many Longbeards from Karak-Ironpeak and Karaz-a-Karak still find it hard to leave the mountains."
"I see," Ryan nodded. "I've heard the dwarfs in the Grey Mountains are more adaptable."
"That's true. The dwarfs of Granite Hand and Windy Peak are used to trading with humans, and they spend much time outdoors. But different dwarf clans have different ways. For example, the engineers from Ironfast are the most progressive among dwarfs, while Karak-Ironpeak and Horn Hold still resist adopting firearms," Belegar continued. "And then there's High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer, the stubborn old fool."
"But I recall that this 'stubborn old fool' helped you a lot during your second assault on Eight Peaks Mountain," Ryan remarked with a smile.
"...I admit, I was wrong about that," Belegar's face reddened with embarrassment. "When I asked Thorgrim for help reclaiming Eight Peaks, he agreed and sent ten thousand dwarfs to assist me."
"Ten thousand…" Ryan swallowed hard.
Ten thousand dwarfs constituted a significant army by dwarven standards. As a White Wolf Knight in Middenheim, Ryan had heard the dwarfs there estimate their total population at under six hundred thousand. The dwarf capital, Karaz-a-Karak, housed about twelve thousand when Thorgrim ascended the throne after the Great War against Chaos.
Since then, Thorgrim had encouraged birth rates and fostered strong relations with humans, leading to prosperous trade and a revitalized Karaz-a-Karak. Over 160 years, human populations could multiply several times over. For the dwarfs, Karaz-a-Karak now had around fifteen to sixteen thousand inhabitants.
"Ah, ten thousand dwarfs. We formed a coalition and launched our second assault on Eight Peaks. Thorgrim planned to lure the enemy while I attacked the main keep. That was indeed the plan, but… Thorgrim faced Skarsnik's main force, while I encountered only some subsidiary tribes," Belegar admitted, his face flushing with shame. "I received Thorgrim's call for aid but thought I could capture the main keep…"
Wait a minute! So, Belegar borrowed a massive army from the High King, who personally served as bait, only for Belegar to betray him for the chance to seize the keep? Ryan's face twitched slightly at the thought.
"We fought fiercely for a day and a night. I finally captured the main keep, broke the greenskin's defenses, and shattered their stone idols. But Thorgrim couldn't hold out. He had to retreat, and I realized we couldn't withstand Skarsnik's counterattack. I ordered a hasty burial of our dead and withdrew before we were annihilated," Belegar recounted with deep shame. "That was the closest I came to reclaiming Eight Peaks. After our retreat, Thorgrim cut off our food supplies and branded me a traitor, swearing never to aid me again. I messed it all up."
"Let's hope you don't sell me out like that," Ryan joked, raising his glass.
"I swear by Eight Peaks, I won't! Ryan, you must not break your vow!" Belegar said urgently, clinking his fist against Ryan's.
"I won't break my vow, and I expect my dwarf friends to honor their alliances too." Ryan extended his fist. "Mutual respect is key."
"Hey, I like that," Belegar struggled slightly but managed to fist-bump Ryan. The King of Eight Peaks drained his mug and gestured for more beer.
Emily, the maid standing behind Belegar, quickly stepped forward to refill his beer. It was winter, and she wore a thick maid's dress with a fox fur coat. Her sweet smile prompted a rare thank you from Belegar.
Nearby, Belegar's queen, Cormac, dined with their son under Sulia's hospitality. With their lives improving, Belegar's people no longer faced starvation. Sulia even commissioned Dron Fenson, the runesmith, to craft a set of golden jewelry for Cormac. Although Belegar was too proud to admit it, he felt deeply grateful.
Ryan and his wife, Sulia, are true friends.
"Ryan, our food supply still depends on your aid, but that's not a sustainable solution," Belegar brought up his concerns. "Blackstone Hold needs a stable food supply. We can't rely solely on trade and transport."
"That's a valid point. However...I have a solution," Ryan revealed a map and, speaking in fluent Dwarvish, said, "Come, King Belegar, look here."
Unrolling the map on a nearby table, Ryan pointed to an area near Blackstone Hold. "Near Blackstone Hold, by the Greysmoor River, lies fertile land. It's desolate because no one dares to settle there due to safety concerns."
"Since we've reclaimed Blackstone Hold, we could establish outposts to secure this land. But, Ryan, dwarfs aren't skilled in farming," Belegar pointed out, though intrigued. "We lack the manpower to rebuild a dwarf stronghold."
"I understand that. This land belongs to the Duchy of Gisoreux, but Duke Hagan is overwhelmed. Kemmler and his undead army devastated the southern parts of his duchy. We propose establishing a trading post there—a market linking the north and south. North to the Pale Sisters Mountains, south through Montfort. Dwarfs could collaborate with humans to build a trading town. Hagan won't refuse such an opportunity," Ryan explained, a mischievous grin forming. "The barren land lies below Blackstone Hold, and we could secure it by building a road, making it a day's journey from the Hold."
"Farming nearby, easy transport… That's a solid plan, but your smile is unsettling. By Grungni, humans can be as devious as pointy-ears," Belegar grumbled, though he had to admit Ryan was right. The King of Eight Peaks stroked his beard thoughtfully. "But where will we find the people? Bretonnia's wars have reduced its population. How will we staff the farms?"
"We have people," Ryan's grin widened. He pointed to areas near Blackstone Hold. "There are plenty of rebellious serfs in these parts. They're all potential labor. These areas are tough to raid due to their terrain, making it costly and difficult for knights to suppress them. Duke Hagan needs dwarven help, King Belegar."
"Excellent!"
...
After receiving Ryan and Belegar's invitation, Duke Hagan of Gisoreux hurried to the County of Glamorgan despite the approaching Winter Veil Festival.
Kemmler's invasion had left thousands dead, dozens of villages destroyed, and the duchy in chaos. With Kemmler defeated but his devastation lingering, Hagan returned to a land ravaged by famine and rebellion. Towns were overflowing with starving refugees, and the Duke faced the daunting task of restoring order and rebuilding.
A Grail Knight more accustomed to residing in the capital, Couronne, Hagan rarely managed his duchy. He left its governance to Count Jean-Haron and focused on his personal virtues and prayers to the Lady of the Lake.
Now, however, he had no choice but to address the crisis. The southern duchy needed rebuilding, refugees required aid, and rebellions had to be quelled. Hagan, lacking administrative skills, was overwhelmed by the disorder. The question of handling the rebellious serfs was particularly vexing.
Should he crush them? They were his property, after all, and suppressing them in the mountains would be costly and challenging. Should he appease them? With what food and resources? Offering clemency might encourage more rebellion.
When Ryan's letter arrived, Hagan decided to visit, accompanied
by Count Jean-Haron. The idea of a dwarf trading post in his duchy presented a new economic opportunity. Even Hagan, slow to grasp such matters, understood the potential for growth and recovery it offered.
Outside the castle, in the snowy landscape, Ryan and Sulia personally greeted Duke Hagan and his entourage. Ryan, holding his wife by the waist, kissed her smooth cheek. "My dear, I always thought Duke Hagan wasn't a Grail Knight…"
"Ryan, Duke Hagan's presence is just not very prominent because he rarely leaves Couronne," Sulia gently pushed Ryan's hand away, not comfortable with public displays of affection. "Duke Hagan is upright and strong, but he prefers not to govern the duchy. He spends most of his time in Couronne, praying and practicing austerity at the Holy Grail Cathedral."
Dressed in a crimson velvet coat trimmed with ermine, Duke Hagan approached with over twenty attendants. Ryan stood respectfully as Hagan addressed him, "Lord Ryan, Lady Sulia, on behalf of the Duchy of Gisoreux, I thank you for your aid in the battles at Blackstone Hold and La Maisonneuve Abbey. Without your and François's efforts, Kemmler and his undead army would have wrought even greater havoc."
Duke Hagan, appearing in his thirties with a simple face and strong build, was from the same era as François. The youngest duke in Bretonnia was Casphon of Palaon, now in his forties.
After brief pleasantries, Ryan led the group to the vineyard for a feast. However, Duke Hagan was clearly anxious, barely touching his food before asking, "The dwarfs plan to establish a trading post in my duchy? And help suppress the rebellion?"
"Yes, Duke Hagan. Blackstone Hold is near your domain, and King Belegar needs a stable food supply," Ryan explained.
"Where is King Belegar? I wish to meet him!"
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