R.L Alencar
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Chapter 120 (From engineer to Conqueror
🕑 Added 2024-11-10 16:29:25 +0000 UTCMiguel stepped down the ship’s ramp, his feet steady on the dwarf port’s ground for the first time. The port was surprisingly bustling, with a steady flow of dwarven workers coming and going, carrying wooden crates and metal barrels, as smaller boats arrived and departed. Along the docks, Miguel spotted a few beastmen mingling with the dwarves, though they were in the minority. The majority were dwarves of all ages, robust and busy, with alert and wary expressions.
As Miguel and his entourage moved through the port, he noticed many dwarves watching them. Their stares were openly hostile, and the discomfort in their eyes made it clear that, to them, the presence of humans was anything but welcome. Miguel understood that, for them, humans represented an ancient threat, an outside world they preferred to keep at bay.
The last to disembark was the beastmen entourage, led by Baromir. Upon stepping onto the port, Baromir went straight to one of the nearby dwarf guards. The two exchanged words in low tones, but Miguel noticed the guard soon smiled, relaxing a bit at the sight of Baromir’s friendly face. After a few minutes of conversation, Baromir turned and motioned for Miguel to approach.
Miguel complied, approaching with calm steps and a slight smile on his face, though he noticed the dwarf guard, upon seeing him up close, resumed a cautious stance. The dwarf, a warrior clad in dark armor with a long beard braided into leather strips, scrutinized him with sharp eyes, as if weighing every detail.
Baromir broke the silence, introducing Miguel. “This is Miguel, young king of Drakmoor. A newly formed kingdom on the continent, currently facing a succession war against the kingdom of Árdia.”
The dwarf remained silent, expressionless. His eyes stayed fixed on Miguel, but after a brief moment, he nodded, speaking in a deep voice. “Pleasure to meet you… even if you are a human.” He paused, then shot Miguel a firm, direct look. “But let me warn you… if you or your entourage try anything that threatens my people, I won’t hesitate to bury an axe right in the middle of your head.”
Miguel smiled, remaining calm in the face of the hostility. “Understood. Rest assured, we are a peaceful entourage, here in peace and with good intentions.”
The dwarf held his cautious gaze, but a slight nod showed he accepted the response. Baromir intervened, in a diplomatic tone. “We need an audience with the governor. He is the only one who can help us speak to the dwarf king and the Great Council of the Hundred.”
The dwarf frowned, thoughtful. It was clear he wasn’t bothered by Baromir’s presence, but the idea of humans requesting important audiences seemed to leave him wary. After a moment, he replied. “Perhaps I can arrange that for you. But it’ll take some time… the governor’s been busy lately.” He looked again at Miguel, making it clear he would keep a strict watch over the visitors. “Wait at the inn. I’ll leave guards nearby… just as a precaution.”
Miguel nodded, accepting the terms.
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Miguel looked around as he and his entourage followed the path across the island where they had disembarked. The busy, rustic port gave way to a sprawling port city unfolding before them, revealing an unexpected, singular beauty. The city was charming and vibrant, and, to Miguel’s surprise, the dwarven buildings had a unique design. The houses resembled small mounds of earth, blending discreetly into the natural landscape, yet upon closer inspection, he noticed each structure had a subtle beauty and meticulous architecture, with carved stone details that harmonized with the surroundings.
As they walked through the streets, Miguel noticed the local population's glances. The dwarves, with their serious, suspicious expressions, observed the human visitors with curiosity and strangeness, but they mostly ignored them, returning to their routines. Miguel knew that his presence was unusual and perhaps unwanted by many there, but the dwarves’ restrained reaction, though firm, seemed respectful.
The dwarf guard guiding them kept a brisk pace, weaving through people while leading them safely through the bustling streets. After a while, they arrived at an inn, and Miguel immediately noticed that this building was different from the others. Although built with the same sturdiness as the dwarven houses, the inn seemed designed to accommodate taller guests, like beastmen. The doors were wider, the ceiling was high, and the windows were positioned at a height accessible to anyone, regardless of stature. Miguel realized that the dwarves must be prepared to host visitors from varied races, which made him reflect on life and interactions on these isolated islands.
Upon entering the inn, they were greeted by a beastman receptionist with a rabbit-like appearance, which caused a moment of surprise in Miguel. He had expected a dwarf to manage the reception, but he held back his thoughts, observing the receptionist’s careful posture and manners as he welcomed the group with attentive courtesy.
Alistair, observing the surroundings, commented in a low tone, "This place is very beautiful… and the city as well." Admiration colored his voice, and Miguel merely nodded in agreement. The dwarf islands, despite their reputation for isolationism and distrust, held a natural charm and beauty that Miguel couldn’t ignore.
The receptionist led them to their rooms after the dwarf guard informed him of the group’s situation. “Some rooms are available,” he said with a calm nod. He guided them down a wide corridor, taking them to the rooms reserved for Miguel and his travel companions. The doors, made of dark wood and reinforced with iron ornaments, appeared solid and well-protected, reflecting the practicality Miguel had come to expect from dwarven architecture.
As they settled in, the guard explained that Brother Baromir and his entourage would join them later, as they had taken the opportunity to handle some business in the city. Miguel nodded, grateful for the hospitality and, at the same time, intrigued by the new discoveries awaiting him in these distant lands.
After a few hours of rest at the inn, Miguel was seated at a desk in the room assigned to him. Before him, he had spread sheets of parchment and drawing tools. Among them were detailed sketches and completed documents he had brought with him, ready to present to the dwarves. These sketches contained instructions for new production methods, weapons technologies, and improvements he believed could be beneficial for Drakmoor and perhaps even for the dwarven kingdom itself.
Miguel was meticulously sketching, adjusting some lines and refining details in the drawings, with his gaze focused and concentrated. Beside him, Alistair, with a curious posture, watched him silently until he could no longer hold back his question.
“What are you working on, my lord?” Alistair asked, his eyes on the scattered papers.
Miguel smiled without taking his eyes off the drawings. “Just refining some sketches and documents,” he replied. “It’s always good to have everything in order before presenting it.”
Alistair nodded, understanding, but curiosity still motivated him. He leaned in to observe more closely. “And what exactly are you drawing now?”
Miguel sighed with a light smile, pointing to the main sketch he was developing. It was a large, ingenious structure made up of a series of pulleys, ropes, and sturdy beams. “While we were at the port, I noticed that the dwarves were unloading heavy cargo from the ships manually. This work requires strength and effort from many men. I want to change that.”
He paused, indicating the drawing with the tip of his charcoal pencil. “I’m designing a pulley system… essentially, a crane. This machine will allow them to lift and move heavy loads with the effort of only one or two people.”
Alistair observed the drawing with fascination. The crane, as Miguel called it, consisted of a fixed base that could be mounted at the edge of the docks. A long wooden arm would be attached to the system, and the pulleys, connected by ropes and gears, would allow heavy objects to be lifted and moved easily. By operating the control lever, any load hooked to the crane could be raised with minimal effort. Miguel had drawn the pulleys in sequence to multiply the force, enabling a single worker or two to maneuver barrels and crates safely.
“This pulley system,” Miguel continued, pointing out each detail to Alistair, “multiplies the applied force, making the work much more efficient. Instead of requiring the labor of many men and risking injuries, a small group could unload with speed and less effort.”
Alistair, who had never imagined such an invention, looked at Miguel with admiration. “Incredible. Something like this could transform not only port work but many other tasks where heavy loads are common.”
Miguel smiled, pleased with Alistair’s reaction. “That’s the goal. If the dwarves approve, this crane could help optimize work at the port and, who knows, become useful in other areas. It’s a simple idea, but sometimes simplicity is what makes the biggest impact.”
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Ricardo was at the front line, his gaze fixed on the maps and battle reports spread across the table inside his tent. Since the war began, the positions had held steady, with measured advances and retreats. Miguel’s new weapons, especially the field artillery and rifles, had made a huge difference on the battlefield. Now, the war was no longer about who had the most soldiers but about who mastered the tactics necessary to handle powerful and lethal long-range weapons. The enemy had learned this lesson the hard way.
However, as the weeks passed, Ricardo began to notice a different kind of challenge. The logistics of keeping firearms in constant use and supplying the front line with ammunition was complex and costly. So far, they had managed to keep the enemy at bay, primarily thanks to the effectiveness of the artillery, which stopped any large group trying to advance. But the enemy forces were adapting. Instead of launching major attacks, they began dividing their troops into small groups, attempting to flank and test defenses at specific points. It was a careful strategy, and Ricardo knew it was a direct response to the power of firearms.
Additionally, enemy mages were becoming a constant threat. From time to time, they would try to launch targeted attacks against vulnerable sectors of the front line, aiming to wear down Drakmoor’s troops. These attacks were fierce, driven by magic, and required the troops to be constantly ready. Fortunately, artillery and firearms could repel these assaults, but Ricardo knew the mages might soon find ways to bypass the artillery. They would need to be prepared for that.
Sitting in his tent, Ricardo read a letter he had just received from John. The words in the letter made him raise his eyebrows in surprise. John reported that Miguel, his nephew, had set off on a journey to the dwarven kingdom, a place Ricardo hadn’t even known existed. According to the letter, Miguel had gone seeking assistance in producing more weapons and ammunition, as well as other beneficial exchanges for Drakmoor. It was a bold and unexpected move.
Ricardo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Miguel… you always stay one step ahead.” He knew well enough that he was no politician. He was Miguel’s uncle and, by fate, now the general of Drakmoor’s armies. He had always been practical and straightforward, never envisioning himself in a position to lead an army, much less to fight for a newly formed kingdom. But all of this was only possible thanks to Miguel—the nephew he had watched grow up, who had borne the stigma of being a bastard, was now a great man. Not just a leader, but a true king.
With a satisfied smile, Ricardo put the letter away. A wave of pride washed over him. Miguel had managed to exceed all expectations and become independent, a strategist, and, more than anything, a king with vision and courage. He knew the kingdom was in good hands, and this certainty comforted him despite the constant challenges of war.
Carefully storing the parchment, Ricardo stood and walked over to the small table where a bottle of wine awaited him. He poured himself a glass, taking a sip as he reflected. Outside, the sounds of the front line were distant, but he knew the calm wouldn’t last. It was only a matter of time before the enemy tried to push through once again.
