46. Negotiation (2)
The opponent was just a sixteen-year-old brat who had never received formal training, let alone studied under a master scholar of the Empire like Alan Kotler. That was why, when Wayne showed up as the dwarves' lead negotiator, he brimmed with confidence, convinced the deal was already in the bag.
So why was he the one sweating bullets now?
"I went to great lengths for the territory, taking massive losses to convince the dwarves. So why should I be treated like this?"
"I apologize, Young Lord Wayne. It was my mistake."
Viscount Gunter realized he had buttoned the first button wrong. The man before him was the lord's son first and foremost—dwarf representative or not. No matter how the situation had shifted or which side of the table they sat on, that fact remained unchanged. And with the dwarves having no real demands on Dresden, he had even less to say.
Gunter could only bow his head in silence.
"Young Lord Wayne, let me apologize on his behalf. The front lines have made him overly sensitive. Please, set aside your anger."
Boltain Count stepped in, unable to stand it any longer. But Wayne had no intention of letting it go.
"To be honest, I might've been too casual earlier. Do you have any idea how hard it was to secure the dwarves' ancestral legacy? I risked my life for it. I handed it over to them just to convince them to help Dresden—or rather, you—and now what? Because I'm the dwarf rep, I should just spit out whatever I want?"
"We're truly sorry. Please, calm down, Young Lord."
Boltain wore a troubled expression. He was the territory's greatest swordsman and the lord's right hand, but his opponent was the lord's son—this wasn't something brute force could solve.
Wayne glanced slyly at Boltain and reined in his emotions.
"Whew! I got too worked up. For Sir Boltain's sake, I'll hold back for now."
His words said one thing, but his anger hadn't faded. His slightly raised pitch and barely contained tone made it clear to anyone: he was pissed, but holding it in.
'Know your enemy and know yourself, and you'll emerge victorious in a hundred battles...'
Outwardly calm, Wayne inwardly cheered. The mood had completely swung his way. He knew all about Viscount Gunter—and thanks to Snow, he'd just learned Gunter was the overall strategist for this operation. But Gunter knew nothing about Wayne.
Plus, Wayne was well-versed in Dresden Territory, while Gunter barely knew a thing about dwarves. From the start, it was a negotiation tilted heavily in Wayne's favor.
'Now, they'll believe me even if I say the sky is green.'
He didn't know the exact value of the dwarves' ancestral legacy, but everyone knew it was priceless: the dwarves had betrayed Estel Kingdom and mobilized a thousand warriors to strike the Reinhardt front lines because of it.
By using that treasure for the territory, Wayne ensured no one would see him as a dwarf sympathizer anymore. Instead, they'd view him as someone sacrificing for Dresden.
Now that they'd bitten the bait, it was time to raise the stakes.
"Originally, the dwarves planned to confirm victory in this battle and head straight home. But I held them back again."
Wayne's worried tone drew curious looks from Boltain and Viscount Gunter.
"What's the reason this time?"
"Whew! You all know Estel's intel and geography, but you're clueless about the dwarves in the Sierra Mountains."
That was only natural. No one had expected dwarves—on bad terms with Estel—to join the war. In fact, Yulih's clan getting involved in a human conflict was the anomaly.
Wayne turned to Brock.
"Brock! How many more dwarf clans are in the Sierra Mountains?"
"Six more clans of similar size to ours."
"Hear that? Dwarf women are born warriors too, and this clan alone has over three thousand. Times six? That's eighteen thousand, simple math."
Women and children didn't fight, so these were the clan's maximum combatants—but humans knew nothing of dwarves, so they took Wayne's numbers as all warriors.
"This clan's bound by my promise; once they return to the Sierra Mountains, we're done. But Estel will ally with the other clans to halt Dresden's advance."
Viscount Gunter's eyes widened at Wayne's words, and the commanders behind him erupted in murmurs. Crossing a single mountain could take days. Estel's northwest—riddled with peaks and forests—would bog them down, especially if dwarves grabbed their ankles again like today. Heads already throbbed at the thought.
'Once bitten by a snake, you're scared of a rope...'
It hadn't even happened yet, but Wayne's words rang with unshakeable credibility.
Wayne didn't press or rush. The more they dwelled on dwarves, the more their advance would stall.
"That's why I convinced these dwarves to stay and negotiate with you."
"What can the dwarves do?"
"There's a very simple solution."
"What is it?"
"Have these dwarves unite all the clans in the mountains."
"Unite them?"
Wayne tossed out the problem, then casually dangled the solution. As other commanders voiced doubts, Viscount Gunter's mind raced.
"But six clans? Impossible with our current forces."
"Exactly. Three thousand can't take eighteen thousand under equal terms."
"Then how do you unite the other clans?"
"With the ancestral legacy."
"You mean those Steel Golems outside?"
Wayne smiled at Gunter's guess.
"As expected from Dresden's chief of staff—sharp. These dwarves found the legacy, so they had no reason to join a human war. But to build it? They'll roll up their sleeves. Imagine: one Steel Golem now, but nine more? Ten total."
"Ten..."
Boltain and Gunter had heard Snow's report en route: each Steel Golem matched a 3rd-class Gigant. This clan deploying ten Gigants to unite the others? Entirely plausible.
"The issue is one missing material. Give it to them, and they'll have Steel Golems ready before you establish a beachhead here."
"You're asking us for it now?"
"You already have it. Magic stones from the Sailon Occupation Zone."
"Magic stones?"
Gunter glanced at Boltain as he spoke.
"Yes. Crystals from beasts in the Quicksand Desert. Nine at least five centimeters in diameter."
"Stones that size could build two 3rd-class Gigants each."
"If they were easy to get, we wouldn't be negotiating."
"And how do you know they're in Sailon?"
Wayne knew from Curtis. Magic stones gleamed iridescently, sparkling brighter than diamonds— the continent's most coveted gems. Occupying Sailon as a stepping stone to the southern continent past the Ratan Desert was half-true; the other half was those damn stones. And Quicksand Desert runs required passing through Sailon.
"How I know doesn't matter. The question is, will you do it?"
"Can dwarves even climb mountains with those massive golems?"
"You heard: yesterday, they moved four Gigants and one golem over the ridge in a day. Terrain's no issue for dwarves."
Gunter fell deep into thought. Boltain asked him,
"Is it feasible?"
"Very. But the cost... the math doesn't add up."
With them seriously pondering, Wayne was halfway to victory.
'Dresden's capable staff officer, huh...'
Wayne inwardly clicked his tongue. Severed ties for 150 years aside, Gunter and Dresden's army knew too little about dwarves. These were all the dwarves aiding Estel. The others were even more stubborn, refusing to ally with humans who'd driven them out. These dwarves only helped to steal Gigants.
And Wayne had zero plans to unite them now. Sure, eventually he'd consolidate them into an ancient dwarf kingdom under his banner. But not yet—who'd feed that many mouths?
First, get the stones, build golems. Train dwarf Golem Masters as he'd taught—then send them. They'd fetch the clans on their own. Ancestral legacies were dwarven honor and pride incarnate.
As Boltain and Gunter stewed, Wayne landed the killing blow.
"Dresden's crossing the Reinhardt River northeast to seize Estel's capital before other territories, right?"
Boltain and Gunter's eyes bulged.
"How did you know?"
"Thought so. The route's farther, mountainous, tough marching—but lighter resistance than the plains."
Gunter looked stunned.
"Impressive insight, Young Lord. Other territories advance through Estel's western breadbasket and plains. Four grand territories' armies are massive, but so's the resistance. Fransoa Kingdom's Magic Knights are massing too. Our northwest has no major territories, low priority—fewer defenders. The distance evens out."
"This is your stratagem, Sir Gunter."
"Yes."
Gunter's genius shone more on battlefields than bargaining tables.
"Dwarves blocking the advance would be disastrous, then."
Gunter looked like he'd been gut-punched.
"Ha! You got me good. So, you can handle the Sierra dwarves?"
"Of course. I'll stake my head on it."
"With that conviction, I trust you. I'll get lord's approval across the river."
He said approval, but as the lord's right hand and chief of staff, it was as good as done. The stones were theirs.
"And after successfully taking the capital? The territory doubles in size."
"We'll cross that bridge after occupying."
"Too few troops to hold it. Losses mount during advance; capital assault will be brutal. Even securing capital and northwest won't spit out Gigants overnight."
Dresden and other grand territories had prepped five years for current forces. Rebuilding occupations, maintaining order—north had Union Kingdom; Estel wouldn't fully collapse even if capital fell; Fransoa endured. They'd have to redeploy Great Forest garrisons, leaving home thin.
"Ha! You thought that far. Remarkable."
Only those who'd ruled vast lands would consider it.
Wayne cut to the chase.
"Imagine dwarves with Steel Golems as allies then. How reassuring?"
"Allies?"
"Yes. A military alliance for mutual troop support in emergencies. One golem now, ten soon; unite clans, warriors multiply. Hunt desert beasts for more stones, build more golems."
Boltain and commanders nodded eagerly. Gunter asked,
"What do we provide allies for military aid?"
"You already know, Viscount."
"Food?"
"Right. Mountains are barren. Dwarves need grain or gold to buy it. Nurture this bond, and it'll hugely benefit Dresden."
Brock chimed in perfectly.
"Dwarves value promises and bonds above life itself!"
"And think back to today. How'd we crush the enemy?"
"Ah!"
Gunter's face lit up like the sun.
"Wait here. I'll cross the river, report to the lord, get approval. No—I'll draft alliance papers."
Today's tactic—blinding foes, flanking via dwarf-dug tunnels—had annihilated them. Future paths held mountains; enemies would bottleneck passes. Allied dwarves digging detours to hit rear guards? Advance accelerates, first to capital. They needed this.
'Dwarves' food issue solved too.'
Gunter rushed out.
"Everyone out. I need a word with Young Lord Wayne."
Boltain dismissed the commanders. Wayne sent Great Warrior Brock outside too.
"You took a big loss this time, Young Lord?"
"No. Helping the territory is enough."
"Don't hold back—tell me. What'd you get for handing over the ancestral legacy?"
Wayne hadn't really thought about it. Once they were his subjects, what was there to "get"?
Then he recalled them mistaking Steel Golems for Gigants and stealing one.
"A 2nd-class Gigant."
"2nd-class?"
Boltain eyed Wayne intently. No Odd Eye active, yet it felt like he was pierced through.
"Ha! Your Odd attainment is sky-high. Impressive."
"Nothing compared to you, Sir Boltain."
"Today, your care for lord and territory moved me deeply. I can't let you take a loss—so take my 2nd-class Gigant, Predator."
"Pardon?"
This was unexpected. Boltain wasn't one for empty words. Why gift him a 2nd-class Gigant now?
"And thank you for looking after Nancy and my old subordinates."