In the Darkhearth camp, after laughing at Dwalin, everyone quickly got to work. Dwarves are notoriously stubborn, and it's hard to change what they believe they believe, and the same is true for their work. The Darkhearth is a standard dwarven tribe that has survived on the rich mineral deposits of the Titan Mountains, following an ancient tradition. That said, activities on the ground are also essential, with hunting and patrolling missions taking place almost daily.

"Hey, it's really boring, I guess I don't have much to gain today."

In the center of the camp, stout dwarves who stayed behind lazily smoked their pipes.

"Damn, who led the team today, this group of bastards must have missed anything, I'm embarrassed to come back."

"Hahaha......"

"Shut up, idiot!"

Suddenly, an angry shout erupted in the center of the camp, and the surroundings quickly fell silent.

Iron Spear stood up and drew the long axe behind his back, he was the captain in charge of the camp guard, and his movements quickly caught everyone's attention, and they quickly entered a state of combat readiness, surrounding the clan entrance. The ground team is small in number, and their task is mainly to keep guard. In addition to the high mountains, the Titan Mountains also have an endless stretch of ancient jungle, which is full of all kinds of terrible beasts. On top of that, the dwarves are not so peaceful with each other, and due to the intricacies of underground veins, it is not uncommon for a deposit to be between two tribes.

"What sound?" Everyone also heard strange sounds one after another.

"On it!"

I don't know who shouted first, and when I looked up, several large beasts appeared above their heads. The huge wings almost blocked out the sunlight, perhaps sensing the murderous aura of the underground dwarves, and were now letting out a high-pitched scream.

The team still maintained a fighting stance, but the heart of the iron spear was slightly settled. Soon, a total of eight flying teams landed not far from them, and everyone saw that the huge flying mount was the griffon. This is also the reason why the iron spear is stable, because the griffin is the exclusive mount of the dwarves, a skill that has been passed down from generation to generation and cannot be learned by humans. What's more, he couldn't be mistaken about the obvious blue mark on the griffin's feet, which symbolized the dwarven royal city, Ironforge.

Unlike the elves, the dwarves have their own king, and the royal family is an ancient city that lives in the depths of the Titan Mountains, which is the Ironforge. Legend has it that the city has a very long history, it is as old as the Elven Court, and the royal family of Ironforge is the origin of the dwarves, and it is said that all the dwarves are descendants of the earth spirits, and it is from this place that the earth spirits originated. However, unlike the Terrans, the Dwarven royal clan does not have a simple ruling relationship over all the Dwarven tribes. In fact, with the exception of compulsory conscription during special periods, Ironforge hardly interferes in the affairs of other tribes as long as it does not involve racial matters. So it was very surprising to see the King Flying Team of Ironforge Castle at this time.

The iron spear quickly came out of the crowd, and the eight people on the other side had already come closer. He put his weapon back behind him, pounded his chest with his right hand, bowed his head slightly, and saluted. The oncoming leader was half a head shorter than him, but he was wearing a robe, so he naturally returned the salute. The pupils of the iron spear are shrunk, and the proportion of mages in the dwarf race is very small, and often there may not be a mage ratio among ten dwarven warriors, which shows that it is rare. This time, the person from Wangcheng was actually led by a mage, which further reflected the extraordinary nature of the matter.

"I'm Iron Spear, the leader of the Dark Furnace Clan's guard squad."

"Captain Iron Spear, just call me Gimli, I need to meet your clan leader."

Gimli was clearly on a mission and spoke in a calm tone, but he went straight to the point.

"Okay, follow me."

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Dwalin took a short nap to relieve the fatigue of the journey. In the end, he didn't decide what to do with the huge blackened lamb chops, but he really didn't want to care about the kindness of the old man who only cared about him, so he ...... Thrown into the cellar. After a brief cleaning, he made himself a cup of tea, sat down in the study, found an old book, and flipped through it. That's right, as a dwarf, he likes to drink tea and read books, which is really strange, and most people's pastime will be to find a tavern, sell a glass of high-altitude wine, shout and brag wantonly, or get drunk and simply fight and be thrown out of the tavern. In addition, he is thin and weak, and he looks like he can't resist his shoulders, so he has not been treated well by others since he was a child, and it is common to be bullied. Gradually, he developed the habit of reading books alone, and the collection of books in this study is actually extremely amazing, which is the result of his years of searching, and the content is all-encompassing, from historical and military to folk novels and even racial legends. And not only the dwarves, but he is also proficient in the human language, and even some of the ancient languages that are almost lost can be understood. Naturally, he became the strange dwarf, the dwarf who loved to read and always said strange things. In fact, no one saw his talent at all. His greatest ability is the immense knowledge he has accumulated over the years, as well as his strong curiosity.

He now sank into the soft sofa in his study, and found a quaint pipe, filled with a pot of long-bottomed tobacco, which was perhaps the most dwarf-like thing about him. The next moment, a small flame appeared in his fingers, lit the tobacco, and then took a deep breath. Enchanter! Dwalin turned out to be a rare dwarven mage. This alone, regardless of his talent, can find a place in the Dark Furnace clan, whether it is the tribal guard or the mining and blacksmithing, the presence of a mage is required. It is unacceptable that he is only one of the people who lives in the top remote mines, and has become a trader who travels all over the mainland. But he did just that, and left the tribe alone when he was still a minor, and it had been fifty years.

Contented, he took a few puffs of top-quality tobacco from the Far West, and looked through the book in his hand. The cover of the book is a little worn, but it is well maintained and written in Elven language. I don't know if I saw something interesting, and the corners of Dewalin's mouth opened up a slight arc. In this way, flipping through the book, is it a puff of dry tobacco, and the time is quiet.

"Knock knock!"

A quick knock on the door broke the silence. Dwarin looked up, his expression visibly confused. He's not a popular man, and it seems like there are more visitors to him today.

"Knock knock knock!"

An even more hurried voice came, and he could not hesitate, but at last he closed the book and walked towards the hall.