The wind south of the Rocky Mountains carried the coarse scent of mountain rock as it swept over the thick stone walls of Mountain Throat Fortress.
When the 25,000-strong army led by Paul arrived outside the fortress, Derrick Heller, the local garrison commander who had received the news long ago, was already waiting at the gate with Imaer, the chieftain of the Stonemason Clan.
Derrick wore a crisp military uniform and stood tall and straight. When he saw Paul riding at the head of the procession, he immediately hurried forward and saluted. "Marquis Greiman, the entire garrison of Mountain Throat Fortress welcomes you!"
Paul dismounted, patted him on the shoulder, and smiled warmly. "Derrick, how have you been? When your father, Earl Heller, visited Lakeheart Town, he mentioned you. He said that after you began guarding the border, even the contents of your letters home had become much more composed. He asked me to convey his greetings as your father when I saw you."
A trace of warmth flashed through Derrick's eyes, and he hurriedly replied, "Thank you for conveying my father's concern, Marquis!" The two exchanged a few more pleasantries, their conversation shifting from border defenses to the army's subsequent marching plans. The atmosphere was relaxed and cordial.
At that moment, Paul's gaze shifted to Imaer beside Derrick. The chieftain of the Stonemason Clan had completely lost the dwarves' usual rugged bearing. Instead, he hung his head like a child who had done something wrong, nervously clutching the hem of his clothes with both hands. He looked completely different from the person Paul remembered.
Paul walked over with a smile and said, "Chieftain Imaer, long time no see. Do you remember when you came to find me in Lakeheart Town?"
Imaer stiffened and slowly raised his head, his eyes