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TWL Chapter 360: The Lion Among Dwarves
🕑 Added 2025-04-13 18:08:59 +0000 UTCThe dwarves, busy protecting the Elder in Chief, had no time to worry about the Cintrans, who, in truth, had someone even stronger providing them shelter.
[Aard Sign – Magic Burst!]
The roaring mountain wind was instantly suppressed, and the Cintrans' formation became like the eye of a massive storm. Violent winds swirled around them yet caused no harm.
The Scoia'tael watched helplessly as their arrows, like mosquitoes swatted by an enormous hand, lost momentum and chaotically fell into the abyss, harming no one.
The dwarf with three braids stared with wide, excited eyes. It took him a moment to react before hysterically shouting, "They have a mage! Keep firing arrows; I refuse to believe their magic is limitless... Wait! Brouver Hoog is heading over—hold your fire!"
...
Elder in Chief Brouver advanced against the freezing wind. Fortunately, he wore heavy iron armor; otherwise, the fierce wind might have swept him off the bridge into the abyss.
His gaze was complicated as he looked at Lann, who stood protected by the Cintrans like a star among moons. The blond knight extended his left hand, continuously releasing a protective storm around his comrades. At that moment, Brouver seemed to glimpse several familiar figures lost to history.
"Duke Lannister!" called the Elder, his aged voice clear yet strong. "You can stop now. I'm close enough, and they won’t kill me."
His elderly voice, firm and commanding, cut through the storm clearly enough to reach Lann’s ears.
The Cintrans subtly repositioned their weapons towards the Elder in Chief. The dwarves were their adversaries now, and they had to remain vigilant against any possible threat.
Lann ignored his guards' caution and withdrew his left hand from the Sign. Indeed, the Scoia'tael ceased their attack and instead sent a representative shouting from afar.
Lann paid no attention to whatever the Scoia'tael were yelling about and turned instead toward Brouver.
"It seems you've run into some trouble."
"Indeed, Duke Lannister," admitted the Elder. "Which is why I need your help. They've certainly caught me."
They had carefully planned the route and set an ambush, trapping everyone on the bridge. Of course, with the skill of Brouver’s guards, they could easily hold their position with their sturdy shields, delaying long enough for the explosions to attract reinforcements from the nearby Mount Carbon regiment.
But clearly, Brouver had no interest in hiding like a turtle.
"I know your abilities, child of the Elder Blood. I hope you and your soldiers can help me eliminate these enemies."
"With all due respect, you and your soldiers are more than capable yourselves. These 'rebellious' dwarves pose little threat to you."
The Elder shook his head, gesturing toward his guards, who stood steadfastly around him yet still gazed incredulously at the Scoia'tael. "They are not ready yet, not ready to face… enemies like these."
"Swinging weapons at their own kin on the battlefield is still too soon for them. Ancient races should never be slaughtering each other like this."
"Yet you seem to have little pity for them."
"The moment they appeared here in this manner, they ceased to be dwarves in my eyes," Brouver's face reddened, yet his voice remained controlled and powerful. "Do me this favor, Duke Lannister—I only want their three-braided leader captured alive. The rest don't matter, even if they share our appearance, even if this is Mahakam."
"If that’s the case," Lann smiled gently, his body glowing with a brilliant emerald light, "I'm always glad to help a friend."
[Blink!]
...
Suddenly, the scene before him shifted. The enraged Elder in Chief vanished, replaced by panicked Scoia'tael dwarves. The skill-induced time-slowing effect was still active, and Lann could clearly see every minute change in their expressions. This extended window was more than enough for him to prepare his next move.
Then, the golden light faded completely, and time resumed its normal flow.
The dwarves stared in shock at the lone human who had stepped deep into their ranks. Before they could raise their weapons, in the very next moment, that human seemed to explode like a walking bomb.
[Aard Sign - Aard Sweep!]
A circular shockwave burst outward from Lann’s position, sending out a violent gust that swept away snow, gravel, and dirt from the ground. The Scoia'tael dwarves were immediately sent flying like rag dolls, their weapons scattered who knows where.
In a single clash, this guerrilla unit of nearly a hundred fighters was already on the back foot.
A second later, glowing motes of light flickered into being around Lann, revealing the figures of Cintran guards as they emerged from concealment.
They could feel the Lion’s power enveloping them, invigorating their bodies and spirits—an electrifying force that pushed their morale to its peak.
“You’ll likely face enemies like these again in the future. Consider this an impromptu training drill,” Lann said, pointing to the Scoia'tael. “Go!”
With that, light flashed once more around him, and he vanished from sight—rushing off to the other end of the long bridge to deal with the remaining Scoia'tael forces.
Kolgrim’s serpent-like pupils glinted with danger as he unsheathed the longsword from his back with a metallic hiss. He had long grown sick of these Scoia'tael.
There was no dramatic battle—everything unfolded smoothly. The dwarves had used tactics suited for fighting ordinary humans in hopes of ambushing the Cintran Lion. But by the time they realized their mistake, it was far too late.
A hundred-strong guerrilla squad posed no real threat to Lann at his current strength.
If there was any hitch along the way, it was that Lann held back slightly—he didn’t go on a full-on slaughter. No need to make things too ugly. After all, while the Elder in Chief Brouver had given the kill order, the rest of the dwarven guard were still watching. Sparing their feelings, even a little, was still worth considering.
Or rather—giving them the chance to personally carry out the execution of the Scoia'tael was the most appropriate course.
The Scoia'tael were quickly either killed or subdued. However, the Elder in Chief and his escort were still stranded on the long bridge. Fortunately, dwarven architecture always accounted for contingencies. Not far from the bridge, Lann found supplies for assembling a temporary structure.
The dwarves swiftly constructed a simple suspension bridge from the materials. While Cintran warhorses couldn’t cross it, it was more than enough to safely get the people and dwarves across to Mount Carbon. As for those horses… they’d just have to wait until the main engineering corps arrived to reinforce the original bridge.
“Don’t worry, Duke Lannister,” the Elder in Chief said gruffly. “They’ll be fine. You have our word.”
The Elder in Chief’s attitude toward Lann had softened noticeably by now.
He should have been cursing the Scoia'tael by name, but instead, his face remained dark and silent, his thoughts unreadable.
He turned his head and looked toward the kneeling, bound Scoia'tael dwarves. The Cintran way—directly inherited from Lann—had avoided a complete massacre. Kolgrim still carried deep resentment toward the Scoia'tael, but with Geralt acting as a moderating force, they had taken many prisoners alive.
At the forefront knelt one particular dwarf—the one with his beard braided into three thick strands. But now, that beard was soaked in blood. He was still shouting defiantly at the Elder in Chief:
“Brouver! You coward! You’d ally with humans? You’d hire them to raise swords against your own kind? You—!”
[Thud!]
One of the dwarven guards slammed the three-braided dwarf’s face into the dirt, silencing his foul tirade.
The Elder-in-Chief flushed even redder at the scolding, yet—miraculously—he still didn’t lash out.
Turning his head to look at Lann, he said in a low voice: “I need another favor from you, Duke Lannister. I know you possess that magic which allows you to summon your retainers from afar. I want to know what’s going on in Mount Carbon right now.”
“They were bold enough to ambush me—there must be a detailed plan behind it. And the ambushers… this can’t be all of them.”
Lann had no objections. Truth be told, he was just as curious about the situation at Mount Carbon.
A cluster of bright amber light shimmered behind him—and from within it, a tall figure came charging out.
Saskia, wielding a massive battle axe she’d seemingly produced out of thin air, swung it with a force that roared through the air—the axe head was larger than her own.
Her face was lit with an eager excitement, but in the very next moment, she felt a mountain-like force halt her swing midair. Looking closely, she saw Lann had caught the shaft of her axe with precise timing. Then, glancing around, she realized the scenery had shifted. The battlefield of Mount Carbon was gone—replaced by a destroyed bridge.
Lann could feel the brute strength pressing against his hand, a force no less than that of a troll. He almost stumbled back. Even in human form, Saskia’s strength remained far beyond that of an ordinary person.
It was Saskia’s first time experiencing [Teleportation], and she marveled at the strange sensation of spatial displacement.
“Is this one of the powers of the Elder Blood too? How fascinating!” she exclaimed with sincere admiration. “And you’re really strong too!”
