Three days earlier, in the gathering area of the Dwarf Clans. After the dramatic conclusion of the Battle of Bergen, the din of arguments within the Dwarf Clan Alliance vanished in an instant—initially, the dwarves had been waiting for the Norsemen to decide their own victory or defeat, then to ally with the winner, and together, with their new allies, launch another invasion of the British Isles—both to fight and to avenge the late Dwarf King. But on second thought, these Norsemen were busy with civil strife of their own, and nobody knew when that internal chaos would ever end. What were the dwarves to do?
In terms of soldiers' valor and military equipment, the Dwarf Clan Alliance's strength was by no means inferior to Norway's; in fact, in some respects—such as the quality of chainmail—the dwarves' workmanship exceeded even that of the Norse. But most crucially: these down-to-earth, rock-dwelling dwarves, who had spent their entire lives tunneling through mountain mines, knew nothing about swimming, let alone shipbuilding. And between the British Isles and the Scandinavian Peninsula lay the North Sea. Without ships, no matter how formidable the dwarves' skills, they could never set foot on British soil.
Thus, they had no choice but to ally with the Norwegians.
Yet now, the dwarves sadly discovered that the ally they sought was nowhere to be found. Panic swept through the clans. At this moment, some of the more radical voices piped up: "If we had backed Count Felix's demands before and supported him, perhaps he'd have won. But look now…"
As this sentiment became the dominant opinion among the dwarves, the conservative elders—those who insisted on staying out of Norwegian affairs—were booed off the stage. The newly appointed young elders, together with the freshly elected young Dwarf King, resolved to adopt a more aggressive diplomatic strategy: support whichever Norwegian nobleman could first secure the title of Grand Prince, push for Norway's unification as quickly as possible, then swiftly seal the alliance and send troops to the British Isles.
After much inquiry and careful study, the man who had captured the town of Byard—named Barnett—was, both morally and militarily, among the foremost powers. This Barnett was deemed the likeliest candidate to unify Norway. Hence the dwarven envoys' journey to Byard.
Although Count Barnett of Byard was not entirely trustworthy, he was, regrettably, the best choice the Dwarf Clan Alliance had for an ally.
Of course, despite this so‑called "aggressive" diplomatic strategy, the dwarves still had their limits and principles.
"No troop deployment—absolutely no troop deployment or intervention in any form." That was the dwarves' basic principle.
Since they refused to send soldiers to meddle in Norway's civil war, the dwarves could only offer money, materiel, and technical expertise.
"So… you're willing to give me six thousand gold coins, five hundred sets of finely crafted dwarven chainmail, and some of your smithing knowledge—all for free?!" Barnett nearly dropped his jaw at the dwarves' proposal. Free gifts from the sky—was such a windfall even real? Were these dwarves out of their minds? Money, equipment, technology—what a giveaway! Could there really be such a deal in this world?
Might there be a hidden trap? Barnett immediately suspected treachery.
"Yes and no," the dwarves replied. "We're not just giving it away. We need you to unify all of Norway as soon as possible—and once Norway is united, to send enough troops with us across the sea to conquer the British Isles."
…Was that really their demand?
Thus, at the end of the new millennium's May, a troupe of "rich fools" dwarves arrived in Byard, gifting money, armor, and technology—and demanding military support in return, to help Barnett expand his domain.
"Well… um, this is rather embarrassing, everyone. You see, I'm somewhat a peace‑lover. I'm not terribly interested in external conquests. My ultimate goal is simply to unify Norway and bring prosperity to my people… Besides, even without your support, I believe I can achieve the unification of Norway on my own. As for foreign campaigns… that rather violent, brutal business—you might want to look elsewhere. The Queen of Denmark to the south is a good candidate, after all." Barnett's shamelessness shone brilliantly as he feigned reluctance, saying the exact opposite of his true desires.
"Tch, that woman's only thinking about unifying the entire north and making all our clans bow to her. There's no way we'd ally with her," one dwarf envoy retorted angrily.
"Then what about King Gustav of Sweden?" Barnett continued.
"He's too busy fighting the Rus to the east. No time for us." The dwarven envoy replied.
"Oh… well then…"
"Enough, Count. No need to suggest anyone else. All of Northern Europe knows your Viking seafaring prowess is unmatched, and we've always cooperated with you." The dwarf envoy cut Barnett off.
"But I really don't want to attack England. Think about it: our previous Grand Prince and your former Dwarf King both died in England. Aren't we just marching to our deaths?" Barnett pressed on.
"Don't worry. If we had any seafaring skills, we could've won on our own," the dwarven envoy said confidently.
Confident, indeed. Looking at the three‑head‑tall, beer‑belly‑bodied dwarf with a voice like a cracked bell, Barnett curled his lip; his smile vanished in a flash.
"Then, if I lend you ships and teach you navigation, how about that?"
The dwarf envoys looked horrified and frantically shook their heads. Barnett found this odd—surely they must have suffered at sea before.
Seeing that the stubborn count refused to agree to attack England, the dwarven envoys gritted their teeth and, as per their elders' instructions, raised the stakes.
"We've discussed it further: if Your Excellency agrees to our terms, we'll give you even more support—five hundred dwarven-forged sabers, three thousand pikes, two thousand shields, plus additional smithing techniques and ten thousand gold coins."
Oh my, bargaining is indeed part of the deal. But these dwarves were far too careless—exposing their entire hand.
"…Still not satisfied? What in the world is this guy's greed?!" The dwarf envoys, seeing Barnett's continued silence, grew frantic. "At most, we can throw in a piece of soft‑lined armor. That's it."
"Soft‑lined armor? What's that?" Barnett inquired.
At his tone, the dwarves' spirits surged, saliva flying, as they began to extol one of their defensive marvels. In truth, this invention bore a striking resemblance to the legendary Eastern nation's ancient golden‑threaded lamellar armor—metal wires, silkworm cocoons, even hair, spun into threads and woven into a lightweight, body-hugging armor. Stronger than cloth yet finely crafted—akin to a primitive bulletproof vest.
"A defensive item: +3 personal safety, +2 health. Don't you want it?" Suddenly, the System Sprite's voice rang out. Barnett's heart skipped, though he remained outwardly calm, tapping his fingertip on the table as if in thought. Across from him, the dwarf envoys looked at him as though awaiting Judgment Day, thinking, "We've no more cards to play. Will he ever agree?"
After tapping the table for ages and seeing that the dwarves had offered all they could, Barnett knew it was time to conclude the deal.
"I understand." Barnett sighed softly, then stood. The dwarf envoys' hearts leapt into their throats. Barnett—a true Viking after all—grinned wryly, drew his dagger, and with a single slash, chopped off the table's leg. The dwarves shuddered, unsure what mad game the count was playing.
"Today, I hereby swear with the Dwarf Clans: we bind ourselves in alliance, never to abandon one another. Should we violate this oath, the God of Heaven shall punish me!"
At these words, the dwarves finally breathed easy and, in the name of their own deities, swore the same oath. Thus, the alliance between Barnett and the Dwarf Clan Alliance was formally sealed.
"Please stay in the city for a few days. Once the formal treaty is drafted and sealed, you can take it back home. How does that sound?" Barnett said to the dwarf envoys.
"Hm, indeed, such a significant matter must not be rushed." The dwarves nodded. "However, may we send one person back first to bring all the promised goods stipulated in the treaty?"
"Perfect." Barnett agreed.
And so the troupe of super-gullible dwarves was sent on its way.
Once they'd departed, Barnett couldn't help but burst into raucous laughter—"Ah ha ha ha!" His officials and guard knights, seeing their lord so amused, joined in uproariously.
Five days later, the dwarven envoys returned, carrying the treaty drafted by Barnett's own judge and stamped with his seal. Barnett, in turn, reaped a veritable fortune.
Ten thousand gold coins may have seemed a vast sum to the dwarves, but Barnett barely noticed it—mere icing on the cake. What truly mattered were the weapons, armor, and, most importantly, the technology. But those cunning dwarves had played a trick: they sent the technological secrets on a mountain of parchment scrolls, written in their own runes, with no intention of translation.
Barnett didn't mind. The System Sprite assured him that as long as it was written, no matter the language, the system could convert it directly into technology.
Five hundred sets of dwarven-forged heavy chainmail, complete with steel helmets—reinforced at critical points with steel plates, all quenched in fire-steeled precision, offering astounding defense for weight comparable to common heavy chainmail. Likewise, the dwarven sabers, pikes, and shields were the finest money couldn't buy.
Yet compared to these tangible gifts, the dwarves' technology excited Barnett most.
His foundational technologies in smithing and mechanical engineering jumped to Level 5; in civilian life, heavy plowing and improved agricultural tools boosted tax revenue again; the blast furnace and coke production lifted ironworking and pottery workshop output; militarily, long-handled battle axes, heavy tower shields, refined sabers, and pikes were all unlocked. Once the barracks reached the next level, he could recruit even more specialized units.
The dwarf visit kept Barnett elated for days. He immediately recruited a small detachment of 300 Viking warriors. In the ensuing days of preparation, the bolt‑cannon workshop was completed and fifteen bolt‑throwers were manufactured. Barnett's army now numbered close to five thousand. Leaving town guards, militia crossbowmen, and a company of Vikings to defend the city, the remaining force of nearly four thousand, accompanied by fifteen bolt throwers, set off in grand fashion toward Bergen…