Paul folded the military intelligence briefing, stuffed it into a leather scroll case, and handed it to Derson.
"Make the trip to Mountain Throat Fortress yourself." His voice was low and clear. "Take the first batch of finished explosives and deliver them to Derrick. Conduct a live-fire demonstration outside the mountain pass controlled by the Stonemason Clan. I want those dwarves to see with their own eyes what it means to wield enough power to cleave mountains apart."
He pondered for a moment. "Also, I authorize Mountain Throat Fortress to launch further strikes as circumstances require—as long as there's a chance of victory."
Derson took the scroll case, his fingers tightening slightly. He had read about the explosives' power in the report, but witnessing it firsthand and transporting it himself were two different things.
"However, the strikes should still focus on forcing their surrender." Paul continued issuing instructions. "We're not trying to push deep into their territory immediately. Let the explosives, cannons, and firearms take turns. Make them understand the cost of resistance, but don't start by wiping them out. After all, we still don't know the dwarves' true strength."
Paul's gaze darkened. "Also, find a way to determine Sir Helson's current condition. I suspect there's a very good chance he's still alive. If he's being held prisoner, find out where. If Mountain Throat Fortress can capture any prisoners, we can use them in an exchange. After all, the dwarves are far fewer in number than we humans. Sir Helson was the first envoy to attempt negotiations with the dwarves. He can't simply vanish into the mountains."
Derson took a deep breath as an uncontrollable warmth surged through his chest. This wasn't an ordinary delivery—it was a direct assignment to participate in a military operation against a mysterious dwarf clan.