Chapter 545 - 544: Dorn’s Past

"I almost forgot," Donkexes said suddenly. "Speaking of which, we mainly invited you for a drink to thank you for lending a hand Underground and helping us rescue Durkin. Thank you, Colin."

"That was part of our mission."

Just then, an image of Dorn flashed through Colin's mind.

He picked up his mug and took a big gulp of beer.

The unique, rich flavor of the dwarven beer instantly washed away the salty taste and the lingering smell of Aboleth, leaving him feeling utterly refreshed. The cured Aboleth really was an excellent bar snack.

Colin continued, "Also… could you guys be a little nicer to Dorn? He really does care about your expedition."

At these words, Donkexes and Langgrin exchanged a glance.

After a moment, Donkexes finally said, "In that case, I'll have to tell you a story. It's about Durkin."

"Then let's hear it."

"Alright, I'll get straight to the point. Balende must have mentioned it to you—the failed expedition launched by Durkin's father, the former king, Soladin Shadow Anvil, and… my son."

Colin nodded.

"The story I'm about to tell happened after that expedition. The former king, Soladin, was a skilled diplomat and a brilliant Mechanician.

"Through his diplomacy, Lonely Castle, Dugol Fortress, Kolinzar-Ander… countless dwarf strongholds agreed to send us reinforcements once we opened the Halls of our Ancestors.

"You can imagine, our despair after the expedition failed was as deep as our hope had been high. We lost our donated wealth, our own blood kin, our one and only hope… The Shadow Anvil Dwarves on the Surface lost everything.

"I was one of them. My son left behind no children, and my wife had passed away long before. Back then, I spent my days in a stupor, with no idea what to do next."

Donkexes took a drink of his beer.

His gaze lowered, as if he were reliving that desperate time.

After catching his breath, Donkexes continued, "And that's when Durkin appeared."

"He gathered the people of the Shadow Anvil Clan and made an announcement. He said that through Prophetic Magic cast by an old friend, he'd discovered a member of our clan was still trapped Underground. He wanted to form an expedition to rescue this person and also to find out what had truly happened all those years ago.

"But with the previous expedition having just failed so catastrophically, no one in the Shadow Anvil Clan was willing to trust their leader anymore. In the end, only Langgrin, myself, and a few others stepped forward. You could count our number on two hands—hardly a grand expedition."

Donkexes said wistfully, "To be honest, I was just going Underground to die. I had no intention of coming back alive."

"You were thinking that?" Langgrin wiped the white beer foam from his beard, letting out a deep chuckle.

"So why did you step forward?" Ale asked, the question slipping out.

Colin looked at Ale with exasperation. 'How can you even ask that? After we just saw how those dwarves were acting in that hall… what if Langgrin joined because he lost family, too? That would be hitting a raw nerve.'

"Relax. I don't have such a heavy past."

Langgrin waved his hand. "I was born in Thousand Masts City. When I was little, my father told me that beneath this city was the city of our ancestors.

"Seeing all the great structures humans built in the city, all the magnificent works they completed, I couldn't help but wonder about the great deeds of our own ancestors. I joined Durkin because I wanted to witness it all for myself."

Donkexes, sitting beside him, took another bite of the salted Aboleth.

He continued, "Anyway, back to the story. Our small expedition followed the clues the Mage gave us. We went through hell and back, and to our surprise, we ended up near Morska-Voglin."

"That's one of the largest Gray Dwarf cities in the Underground, ruled by the Scorched Prison Clan," Langgrin cut in. "Honestly, when we found the place, my first thought was to march right back and have a word with our 'old friend' Durkin. I thought he'd set us up on purpose."

"Durkin led us into the Gray Dwarf city in secret. Following the prophecy, we found our kinsman who was lost Underground."

"Was it Dorn?" Colin asked.

Donkexes nodded.

Ale, holding her mug, asked, "But isn't he of mixed Gray Dwarf blood? How can he be a member of the Shadow Anvil Clan?"

Hearing this, Colin felt a growing sense of dread.

"Durkin's sister, Amber Shadow Anvil, was on the former king's expedition," Donkexes continued. "Everyone thought it would be a success, but the former king insisted on Durkin staying behind. And Dorn… he's Amber's son."

"I think I understand how you feel."

Colin sighed, leaning back against the bench in silence.

"So that means, Dorn is…" Ale said, frowning.

"That's right. After the expedition failed, Amber was stranded in the Underworld and eventually fell into the hands of the Gray Dwarves. Her only option in that situation was to reveal her noble status and pray they would want a ransom.

"But Amber's wish wasn't granted. To humiliate us, the Deep King of the Gray Dwarves… he had Amber bear Dorn. She passed away in the Underground not long after." Donkexes reached up and rubbed his red-rimmed eyes.

Colin and Ale looked at each other, neither saying a word.

Donkexes took a deep breath and continued, "After we found Dorn, all of us were in agreement: we would return to the Surface immediately. It was Durkin who overruled everyone and made us take him in."

"I was against taking him in," Langgrin said, raising his mug.

Colin nodded. "I can tell."

Donkexes said, his head bowed, "I understand how you feel. And we are, truly, willing to acknowledge Dorn as a member of the Shadow Anvil Clan. But in the end, you don't really understand dwarven society.

"To put it in your terms, we are very stubborn and inflexible. Even if we're willing to accept him, we can't bring ourselves to treat him well. Durkin must have realized that, which is why he suggested Dorn join your team."

"Dorn is innocent, of course, but his very existence is an insult to the Shadow Anvil Clan. He is living proof of the crimes those Gray Dwarves committed," Langgrin said, taking a gulp of beer. "I hate to put it that way, but it's the simple truth."

Colin lowered his head.

The beer in his mug was ice-cold, and condensation beaded on the outside. The droplets slid down, one after another, like falling tears.

"For the sake of our long friendship, I have to say this, even if it upsets you…" He took a quiet sip of beer and said, "If things go on like this, your expedition won't end well, Donkexes."