Chapter 536 - 535: The Lost Hero

Chapter 536: Chapter 535: The Lost Hero

"I know about this," Orelia said, perking up at the topic. "I’ve heard there’s a Dwarf Fortress under the World’s Roof called Lonely Castle. It was once occupied by Orcs and was only reclaimed by the Dwarves a few hundred years ago."

"And there’s Gleamhold. It’s said that fortress lies deep beneath the Weston territory and was only reclaimed by a Dwarven expedition within the last hundred years," Colin said. "There are so many stories of Dwarves reclaiming their homes. It just goes to show how tragic their past has been."

"But to be honest, I kinda like their stubborn streak," Kase said, crossing his arms.

As the group chatted, the Dwarves finished preparing the food.

Platters of steaming food were brought to a long table the Dwarves had set up. The Dwarves then pulled beer-skins they had brought with them from their bags and placed them on the table.

After placing a platter of roasted Chuul tail on the table, Langgrin looked at the group and shouted, "Don’t just stand there gawking, come and eat!"

Colin and the others immediately headed over.

A group of Dwarves carrying beer walked toward them from the table.

The leading Dwarves each handed Colin’s group a silver goblet filled with beer—these were all items from the Dwarf Ruins.

Dorn, standing amidst Colin’s group, looked uncomfortable with the treatment, seeming a bit overwhelmed by the honor.

"Colin, I have to apologize to you," said the Dwarf in front of him. "When I first heard the news that you’d taken down a White Dragon, I was very skeptical."

After speaking, he looked at the Dwarf next to him and asked, "What was it I said at the time?"

"You said that human kid was too scrawny, that a dragon could flatten him with one swipe of its claw," the Dwarf next to him added.

"You don’t have to repeat the insults," Colin said, taking the goblet and sipping it. It still had that uniquely complex and robust flavor of Dwarven beer.

The Dwarf in front of him chuckled. "You’ve got a sense of humor. I’m Dan, and he’s Balin. You’re a friend of the Shadow Anvil Clan now, Colin. To be honest, your name sounds rather Dwarven."

"Maybe a Dwarf was the one who named me at the orphanage," Colin said.

"Have some of this Chuul tail! We just spent a lot of effort getting this thing ready." A chubby Dwarf pushed his way through, one hand on his hip as if looking for praise. "With butter, minced garlic, and a bit of dried parsley. It’s my family’s secret recipe!"

Colin, who had been eyeing the huge piece of Chuul meat for a while, didn’t refuse.

The dish looked like a giant lobster tail. Butter oozed over the snow-white meat, which was dotted with green herbs. Just looking at it was enough to make one’s mouth water.

The group picked up the small knives set by the table.

Colin was the first to step forward, probing the Chuul tail with the tip of his knife. The spot he touched immediately flaked apart into white, clove-like chunks of meat.

A Dwarf quickly came over, took the spoon from the platter, and ladled some of the sauce onto the meat. The fibrous chunk immediately soaked up the yellow sauce.

"Thank you," Colin said, then put the meat from the tip of his knife into his mouth.

The moment he bit down, the rich, creamy flavor of butter exploded in his mouth, followed by a wave of garlic. Finally, the unique, savory sweetness of the shrimp-like meat bloomed on his tongue. The firm, springy texture only grew more fragrant the more he chewed.

"This is delicious!" Orelia said in surprise. "I didn’t expect Dwarves to be such good cooks."

"Dwarves don’t fall behind in anything," the chubby Dwarf boasted. "This is the lobster recipe my grandfather taught me!"

"Hmph. Once I teach my grilling methods to my son, and my son’s son, we Orcs will have a family recipe too," Kase said to Colin, a little indignantly.

Colin speared another piece of meat and said, "Then you’ll have to do the grilling yourself every day instead of ordering from Old Black Heart’s. At least you’ll save some money."

While they were chatting, Durkin, standing not far away, raised a horn cup high. Seeing this, the other Dwarves all raised their goblets as well.

Colin also raised his goblet.

After glancing at the height of the surrounding Dwarves’ goblets, he silently adjusted his own to be level with his shoulder and, for good measure, pulled Kase’s arm down too.

"Drink up! And laugh!"

Durkin shouted, then drained his beer in one go.

Seeing this, the surrounding Dwarves also downed their beer, followed by deep laughter and cheers. They seemed absolutely joyous.

The Dwarves’ laughter was infectious, and Colin felt a grin tugging at his own lips.

But just then, he saw a Dwarf suddenly climb onto the table.

Colin looked over. The moment he recognized the Dwarf, he had a feeling this feast wouldn’t stay peaceful for long—it was that prickly Dwarf from before, Balende.

"Do you have the nerve to be laughing here? After what just happened a few days ago? If it weren’t for good luck, we’d all be dead by now!" Balende shouted, arms raised high. "Does anyone among you have any sense left? If you continue this expedition, you’ll all be marching to your doom!"

"That’s enough! Don’t you see what this is? This is a feast, not a place for some old Dwarf to complain!" shouted Donkexes, who had been about to come over and talk to Colin’s group.

"Especially you, Donkexes!"

Balende pointed at Donkexes and retorted, "Have you forgotten your own son? Every single person here is someone’s son, someone’s daughter, someone’s brother, someone’s sister, someone’s father, someone’s mother! How dare you gamble with their lives on something like this?!"

Even though the Dwarves’ faces were covered in thick beards, Colin could see their expressions turn cold.

Their hands, clutching their beer goblets, turned white-knuckled. Their beards trembled, and a few of the older ones lowered their heads, silently wiping tears from the corners of their eyes.

The celebratory atmosphere from a moment ago vanished without a trace.

The same was true for Donkexes, who stood nearby.

After hearing the word "son," his face flushed red, and the white foam in his goblet trembled.

Langgrin, standing nearby, quickly moved to try and stop him.

But Donkexes, normally good-tempered, shoved Langgrin’s outstretched hand aside. Gritting his teeth, he pointed at Balende and cursed, "Don’t you dare mention my son! My son was not a fool! You’re the fool, you damned coward!"

"I’m the coward? Who would be like you..."

Balende started to argue, but Donkexes cut him off with a roar. "My son died for our homeland! He died an honorable death underground, and so did your son, Balende! Are you so desperate to stop this expedition that you would even shame the memory of Witt?"