The castle in Stone Salt Town was less a nobleman's residence than an oversized bunker.
Heavy, crude, sturdy, and poor.
The main hall had no tapestries or chandeliers, only smoke-blackened stone walls and a few flickering braziers.
Ora Stonebeard stood bare-chested, his bronze muscles knotted and solid as rock.
His trademark reddish-brown beard was woven into two thick braids that swung with his movements.
At that moment, he was "amusing himself" with two warriors.
"Roar!"
The two burly warriors clung desperately to Ora's waist. They were clearly straining with all their might, veins bulging in their necks, their faces turning a dark, purplish red.
Ola gave a low growl, grabbed one knight by his belt and collar, and swung him like a weapon, knocking the other man flying!
With a crash, the knight being used as a weapon slammed back-first into a stone pillar. By the time he slid down, blood was seeping from the corner of his mouth.
He thought nothing of it, though. Instead, he grinned proudly, as if it were the greatest honor imaginable.
The other warrior scrambled to his feet and shouted at the knight who had hit the pillar, "Fuck! Fernan, the lord's taken a liking to you today!"
The surrounding knights erupted into bestial howls and thunderous shield-banging. The mood was boisterous and rough.
They looked at their lord with eyes full of worship.
In Stone Salt Town, strength was the only truth.
Ola smugly picked up a metal goblet to drink, then suddenly froze.
His reflection appeared on its smooth surface.
The rocklike contours of his jaw were blurred, but his overly delicate eyes stood out with startling clarity-the only inheritance his human mother had left him.
Among Dwarves, eyes like those meant weakness.
When he was little, the pureblood Dwarf children had