The Castle in the middle of nowhere.

Sigismund was surprised to receive permission to disembark so quickly. Not even half a day had passed before Scion Sebastian himself brought the news. Prolonged anxiety was replaced by eagerness and anticipation for the upcoming battle. There was also a moment of melancholy. After hundreds of years, the Dwarves would return to the Mountains. They weren't the same mountains that his ancestors were driven away from. That place was ruined, purposefully destroyed, so much so that even Arcadia's full might and wealth couldn't return it to its former glory. The Dwarven capital of the Kaddalum Kingdom, Khaž'illuin, was turned into a lethal trap full of poisonous clouds, blocked passages, and inevitably after a length of time passed, monsters. He wasn't ready, he even doubted that he ever would be prepared to see the ruins of Khaž'illuin.

"My Lord, our forces will be ready in three days."

"Very well..." Sigismund took a deep breath and smiled.

As the doors closed behind his aid, Sigismund stood up and opened the big old coffer. He took out an ancient and chipped axe and weighed it in his hands.

"You will return to the Mountains..." He addressed the weapon of the Dwarven Kings, whose existence had been kept secret since the day Kaddalum fell.

•••

The Dwarven army was composed of nearly fifteen thousand warriors, with three already considered legendary Dwarven Heroes. Despite being some of the few and extremely important people in Avalon, Ragnar, Bjorn, and Verni took the mission very seriously. Although they would not leave Avalon for the new Dwarven city, they considered it a sacred duty to their kind. Their presence among those willing to risk their lives was a shining example of bravery and determination that quickly spread among all warriors of their race. The people of Avalon cheered the vast army, and the crowd wished them all the best of luck. Many adventurers of other races wanted to help them, but Sigismund, with other elders, decided they must do it with as little outside help as possible. Obviously, they wouldn't say they would reclaim the Mountains on their own because the entire endeavor would be impossible without the Joint Dungeons' Forces. Even without the Dungeon, all the warriors would have been woefully unprepared to face the arduous task.

The road to the Goblin Dungeon was uneventful and seemed lengthy, but it was a necessary experience for them all. From the rank-and-file soldiers up to Sigismund himself, they worked out the quirks of working as a unified army under joint leadership. Despite all the theory and remarkable Guardsmen Corp training, the Dwarven army was severely inadequate. The most frustrating thing for Sigismund and his commanders was the fact that almost a third of their army were Guardsmen on active duty. After a few days of struggling, they begrudgingly admitted that purely Dwarven forces simply needed wholly different structures than proven Guardsmen's organisation. The final and remarkably well-working structure of the Dwarven army was similar to that of a Legion. The solution was obvious once they came up with it, and a minor reason for the leadership’s embarrassment. The more flexible units employed by the Guardsmen Corp were possible only thanks to the interracial nature of the Corp. The Dwarves, whose vast majority were heavy warriors, were much more direct fighters and preferred how the Immortal Legions fought. Once they settled on their organisation, the rest of the command structures naturally fell into position, and by the time they arrived at their first destination, the Dwarves worked as a unified army, not only in name alone.

The Joint Dungeons' Forces, numbering ten thousand denizens from all Dungeons who participated in the last subjugation, were forming the final units just as the Dwarves arrived. Hrulf and Rango were already awaiting Sigismund in Bob's war room. Ragnar, Bjorn, and Verni accompanied the old Dwarf. The younger Dwarven Lords wore the dark, unreflective armours of the same pattern as most Arcadian Forces. The complex and painstakingly forged armour had no counterpart in the recorded history of Aderon or even Earth. They were an original mix of full-plate armour parts with chainmail, scale armour, and tabard that made for excellent protection, superior to anything their enemies could use. The tough but resilient alloys were carefully forged by blacksmith masters and shaped into helmets, cuirasses, pauldrons, tall boots, and armoured gloves. The full-plate parts were also laced with powerful runes, providing incredible support for the owner. All gaps and other vital points were protected by chainmail or scale armour, fondly known as dragon skin. The black tabards of the few Dwarven Nobles bore intricate heraldry, while those of the Guardsmen had Avalon’s coat of arms emblazoned on them. Both were quite the sight to behold.

Ragnar was personally responsible for the development of the Guardsmen's armour. He had spent days gathering feedback from the people who used it and weeks implementing crucial fixes and improvements. It was currently the tenth iteration of the Guardsmen's armour, and so far, everyone was content with its performance. Cost-wise, the armour's complexity and multitude of expensive materials would be considered a noble-grade, if not royal-grade, crafting piece by most known countries. However, King Theon, in his wisdom, decided that the strength of his armies lies in their experience and survivability. At first, that idea was met with awkward silence, but just after a few initial engagements, no one dared to comment on his choices. The Guardsmen who should have died during those engagements were alive; even those who lost their limbs were healed and, thanks to Queen Irene, returned to active duty. Arcadia's advanced medicine, science, and magic could fix any wound as long as the Guardsmen survived the battle. The mortality rate among the Guardsmen Corp was unbelievably low thanks to the gruelling training and superior weapons and armours.

The similarly clad Dwarves slowly walked through the brightly lit corridors and staircases. They passed by the occasional farmer and goblin pushing a cart of various goods prepared to be shipped to one of the Cities or the Towns of Arcadia. The Goblin Dungeon, which once was one of the most feared Dungeons in the country, had changed beyond recognition. Once dark and full of putrid stench, it was famous for its traps and treacherous denizens who captured and killed in the most gruesome way anyone they could. After the King's forces subjugated it, it gradually changed and now it was one of the safest places for any Arcadian. The interiors were spacious and made of neatly done stone laid with wood panels, which made the entire place far more welcoming and warm. The vast majority of the Dungeon was underground, but the air inside was fresh and warm, without a single hint of moisture or stale stench. The common areas were nice, and the living quarters they were assigned to during the next few days were excellent. Bob's war room was far smaller than Avalon's, but it was functional and adequate.

"Greetings, Lord Sigismund!" Rango lowered his head respectfully. He looked around with an expecting gaze and hardly managed to hide his disappointment. "I was informed that Lord Sebastian was supposed to join us..."

"Hello, Scion Rango, Scion Hrulf. Thank you for welcoming us on behalf of your masters." The old Lord smiled and bowed back, followed by equally deep bows from the other Dwarves. "You are correct. Scion Sebastian and Scion Crawline were going to join us during the expedition; however, I don't know when exactly."

"Ahhh..." The Goblin King nodded in understanding.

"Congratulations on your evolution, Rango." Verni smiled. "The last time I saw you, you were a Hobgoblin Champion."

"Thank you, Verni!" Rango beamed a wide smile. "It's a very recent thing."

"Our forces are ready, and after a few adjustments, we can resupply and continue the mission." Sigismund sat near Rango and smiled at the small goblin who approached him with a tea tray and cookies.

"About that..." Hrulf jumped, placing his front paws on the table, and tapped at the map. "Westwood’s forces were delayed by the storm that passed a few days ago. The western rivers rose after heavy rains and flooded the plains that the Ents had intended to take. While it won't stop them, they slowed down considerably, making it impossible to match with the rest of the schedule."

"I see... In that case, we will wait for them..."

"There is no need for that, Lord Sigismund." Rango raised the palm of his hand in a calming gesture. "We can embark as planned, and the Ents can join us on the way. Ents are one of the most resilient creatures in the world, so the march that would kill some of the Dungeon Denizens is nothing to them."

"That's excellent news." Sigismund brightened. "We should revise our strategies for the upcoming battle."

"Indeed." Hrulf agreed. "While we know what kind of denizens we would face, the Dungeon's layout is a total mystery."

"We have a sizable host of active adventurers knowledgeable about navigating a hostile environment." Sigismund rubbed his long beard. "While that's not a very comforting option, we won't have anything better until we breach the Dungeon's gates."

"I agree with you." Ragnar unrolled a very old map, and everyone carefully gazed at the stained and yellow parchment. "This is a very old and most likely outdated map of the first floor of the Mountain Dungeon. This map was found just recently by Arcadia's Adventurers Guild. It was among the old records belonging to Berna and given to us."

"Hmmm... It's at least a few decades old, however, I think it will be valid." Rango squinted his eyes. "While I don't think the trap placements are trustworthy, the layout most likely remains unchanged."

"I agree. While Mortals usually believe that Dungeons' layouts change constantly, it's just a trick." Hrulf laughed. "The passage might be temporarily closed by a wall, whether it be natural-looking or made of stone bricks."

"Changing the layout is very mana-consuming, so the actual changes happen only if the enemy Dungeon breaches too deep during a raid," Rango explained further. "The Mortals who manage to reach even the inner sanctum are of little concern for any Dungeon."

The Dwarves looked at each other, smiling brightly and eagerly. That map gave them hope of securing a foothold and, with the help of the Joint Dungeons' Forces, succeeding in the mission. Their silent celebration was mercilessly interrupted by the Goblin King.

"You must remember that the Mountain Dungeon is likely awaiting the assault. It has laid low for the past few months, most probably gathering its forces for the anticipated attack of his Royal Highness."

"Indeed. That is a very sound observation." Sebastian's voice interrupted the dense mood that had befallen the Dwarves. "However, it can't wait forever. Their mana reserves are not infinite, and keeping a sizable army is inefficient."

"Lord Sebastian!" Hrulf wagged happily with his tail while Rango bowed respectfully.

"The Praetorians are ready for the battle, and the Eagles have transported some of the slimes to our destination. They will observe our target until we arrive." He smiled briefly and waved his hand in greeting. "It is as Rango said. The enemy’s denizens patrol the area. It's easy to guess that their master is waiting for us."

"Then the battle might be a tough one..." Bjorn sighed. "However, we can't back down."

"Indeed." Ragnar patted the handle of his warhammer. "There will be no better occasion than this one to reclaim our rightful place in the world."

"Very well. In three days, we will embark. Failure is not acceptable." Sebastian nodded, and from his shadow emerged ten more Noble Slimes in their combat attire.