Translator: AnubisTL
Deep in the night, all was still.
The monsters had moved swiftly, already setting up the basic camp structures.
Moonlight, as fluid as water, bathed the low mountain, coating the gradually forming mine pit below with a layer of silvery frost. Iron Dragon Solgorn's claw pressed against the rock face, his eyes half-closed as he carefully sensed the tremors deep within the ore vein.
Suddenly, the Kora Giant Eagle circling overhead let out a piercing shriek—an alarm signaling approaching intruders.
A large group of centaurs made no attempt to conceal their approach, advancing openly from the edge of the pine forest with unwavering strides.
The iron dragon straightened his massive frame, his gaze sweeping over the centaur ranks before he beat his wings and soared into the sky. The chosen guards, newly stationed here, grabbed their weapons and followed closely behind.
"Centaurs, halt!" Solgorn roared from above, his voice a thunderous rumble that shook the air. "This territory belongs to the Ironforged Clan."
The centaur force was formidable, clad in armor and wielding spears. Their numbers and quality surpassed the iron dragon's vanguard. Leading the charge were two towering centaurs, their steps steady and their bodies radiating intense life energy.
Even without probing, it was clear that both were formidable warriors with life grades exceeding 10.
Centaurs were renowned for their martial prowess and formidable strength, ranking among the most powerful intelligent creatures.
The young iron dragon, Solgorn, wasn't confident he could defeat them.
At that moment, Silvermane raised his head to gaze respectfully at Solgorn. "Noble dragon," he said, "may we have the honor of knowing your name?"
The centaur's reaction surprised Solgorn.
After a moment's thought, he declared in a deep voice, "Iron King, Solgorn!"
Silvermane replied, "Respected Iron King, the gray magnetite mine is the property of our clan, though we had not yet begun mining it."
Solgorn narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying I've trespassed on your territory and you intend to drive me out?"
The centaur's submissive demeanor could be a ruse before striking. Solgorn remained vigilant.
Truth be told, when he first discovered the mine, he hadn't given it much thought, assuming it was unclaimed land.
However, after a thorough inspection today, he noticed fresh hoofprints and prospecting marks, confirming the centaurs' claim that they had indeed discovered the gray magnetite first.
But.
There was no concept of "first come, first served" here.
Resources belonged to the stronger.
Solgorn issued a final warning: "Insignificant centaurs, I give you ten seconds to withdraw. Otherwise, you will taste the fury of dragonkind."
But then, something unexpected happened.
"Noble Iron King, you misunderstand us."
Under the iron dragon's gaze, Silvermane knelt deeply, his silver forelegs sinking into the earth. He paid no heed to the dust clinging to his fur, adopting a posture of complete submission. The other centaurs followed suit, kneeling on their forelegs, bowing their heads, and presenting the highest form of respect in centaur society to the iron dragon.
"The White Mane Clan wishes to offer you the mining rights to the gray magnetite."
After a pause, Silvermane continued humbly, yet with fervent longing, "Our centaur clans yearn for strength and crave glory. And you, mighty dragon, noble Iron King, you are the embodiment of power and honor. We wish to pledge our loyalty to you, to follow beneath your wings."
Ironhoof's movements were slightly stiff.
The burly warrior lowered his head, the beast bone necklace around his neck clinking softly.
"We have brought our clan's finest warriors. Please inspect them."
The iron dragon's gaze swept over the silent centaur warriors. He noted their robust physiques and the hardened aura of battle-worn resilience, and a flicker of interest stirred within him.
The Ironforged Clan had only recently established its foothold in the Borderlands and was in dire need of strength.
Every centaur was a born warrior and a natural cavalryman. Securing the allegiance of a centaur clan at this moment would be a significant advantage.
Driven by the inherent pride of dragonkind, the iron dragon believed himself worthy of worship. He considered it natural for centaurs to seek his allegiance, yet a sliver of caution lingered in his heart.
Centaurs were renowned for their martial prowess. Instances of such valiant creatures willingly submitting to dragons without a fight were rare. Had these been Hyena-Men or kobolds—creatures notorious for clinging to dragons' coattails—the iron dragon would have accepted their fealty without hesitation. But he couldn't fully trust the centaurs.
"Offer your loyalty?" The iron dragon's voice, raspy yet magnetic, carried the metallic rasp of grinding steel. He spoke slowly, deliberately. "I've heard centaurs are fearless warriors who bow to no one."
Silvermane's heart quickened, sensing the iron dragon's suspicion. This surprised him. In his experience, dragons were arrogant and overconfident. During their conflict with the white dragon, the White Mane Clan had feigned submission, then ambushed the dragon as it landed, severely wounding and driving it back. This iron dragon, however, proved far more cautious than he'd anticipated.
Maintaining a humble posture, Silvermane replied, "Times have changed, Iron King. The chaos spreading from the tundra is gradually encroaching upon the Borderlands. And we..." He paused for effect. "...crave stronger protection."
His words were half-truths.
The war between giants and barbarian deep within the Ice Plains had caused such chaos that many Ice Plains creatures were migrating outward, severely impacting the indigenous peoples of the Borderlands. The centaurs, too, sensed the impending danger.
However, rather than seek the protection of dragonkind, these two centaurs preferred to forge weapons and armor from the young iron dragon's body to arm their clan.
Ironhoof raised his head and spoke with bitter resentment, "The young centaurs crave battle and glory, but the stubborn elders in our clan want to migrate, to flee. We are at odds."
"Now, we have brought our most elite warriors. If you accept us, we will fight for you. The only reward we seek is the opportunity to earn our rightful merit points and glory under your protection."
After hearing the centaurs' words, the iron dragon's gaze flickered as he stared intently at them, his initial suspicion gradually dissipating.
"You have made the right choice."
He declared, "It is your honor to pledge allegiance to the great Iron King and the Ironforged Clan."
Folding its wings, the iron dragon descended slowly, landing in the center. Behind it, its relatively few monster retainers faced the centaur warriors.
"Pine Resin Mead, a specialty of our clan. Please, enjoy," Silvermane offered a wineskin, pulling the stopper. A sweet, fiery aroma filled the air. Ironhoof leaned in, grinning. "There's no finer brew in all the Borderlands."
The iron dragon, with its fondness for sweets and curiosity about alcohol, couldn't help but let its eyes light up.
But now was not the time for indulgence.
Solgorn shook his head. "Our priority is mining the veins. More retainers will arrive soon. Before then, we must complete the camp's construction as much as possible."
He addressed the centaurs directly: "If you seek shelter, you must prove your worth. There's no need for fighting now. You'll transport stone and timber to help build the camp."
At these words, Silvermane and Ironhoof exchanged a subtle, meaningful glance.
The Pine Resin Mead contained a venom that could weaken dragonkind's attributes, but the iron dragon showed no inclination to drink it. Moreover, according to the iron dragon's words, more monster retainers were on their way.
This meant that if they wanted to capture him, they couldn't afford to delay any longer.
Although they hadn't managed to trick him into drinking the poisoned mead, their preparations were nearly complete.
"What are you standing around for? Get to work," the iron dragon urged.
"Apologies, we just arrived and are still a bit..." Silvermane murmured.
Before he could finish, Ironhoof suddenly lunged into action.
His massive front hooves shattered the ground as he drew a war spear from beneath his saddle. The spear tip crackled with surging magic energy, striking with lightning speed toward the iron dragon's throat.
Silvermane's move was even more insidious.
His silvery-white mane suddenly exploded outward, releasing paralyzing powder hidden within its strands. The powder drifted toward the iron dragon's face as a heavy, fine steel greatsword swung from his waist, its blade aimed to cleave the joint between the iron dragon's right wing and torso.
(End of the Chapter)
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