Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World

Chapter 451: The Hammer Clan

The deep and dark passage seemed endless, and the flickering torches crackled loudly. The sound of footsteps echoed for a long time before fading away.

The air was heavy and murky, mixed with the scent of earth, sometimes requiring deep breaths to sustain one’s needs.

Stanford and his men were walking in such an environment, navigating through a mountain tunnel created by dwarves.

Many were visibly anxious, their bodies trembling uncontrollably, as if they were walking towards hell.

The fear of a sudden tunnel collapse burying them alive was palpable among many.

“I repeat, if you humans are afraid, you can turn back the way you came,” Balash said somewhat smugly. His voice, already loud like all dwarves, echoed even more resonantly in the deep tunnel, resembling the ringing of a bell.

Stanford shook his head. Go back? He scoffed at the idea.

Two nights ago, the dwarf Balash agreed to help them cross the Rocky Mountains. After resting for a night in the dwarves’ camp, Balash personally led them to the Hammer Clan’s dwelling, the Furnace Fort.

Stanford’s expectation of crossing rugged terrains was unmet, as they were led through a shortcut — the tunnels. The dwarves’ tunnels were essentially labyrinths, full of twists and turns, ups and downs, with frequent forks. Some sections lacked torches, relying on luminescent fungi on the walls for faint illumination, making it even more challenging to remember the way.

Their journey through the interconnected yet disjointed tunnels, each long but ultimately leading out, involved exits often located in valleys. Then they would traverse some mountain paths before entering another tunnel.

“We’re here!”

Finally, they arrived at the most spacious valley since entering the mountains.

As they were about to exit the tunnel, Balash once again kindly reminded them to squint their eyes against the brightness.

Stanford, shielding his eyes with his hand, peered into the distance.

He first noticed the irregular but well-tended plots of land, suggesting that the mountain dwarves engaged in agriculture.

Looking further, a colossal, majestic structure stood in front of the valley’s cliff face.

It appeared to be a fortress, but its style was remarkably rugged.

“Welcome to Furnace Fort,” Balash pointed at the massive structure on the cliff.

“In your human terms, this is our Hammer Clan’s ‘capital city.’ Soon, you’ll meet my father.”

“An honor indeed!” Stanford expressed his gratitude.

The group continued towards the massive fortress.

As they drew closer, Stanford realized that the main body of the fortress was actually carved out of the cliff face, with some parts built up with bricks and stones.

He admired the dwarves’ craftsmanship once again.

“Are we the first humans to visit here?”

“Ha, Mr. Stanford, I regret to inform you that you can’t claim that achievement,” Balash laughed heartily.

“In the long history of dwarves, many friends of different races have visited, including orcs and humans. They often brought some benefit to our people and were always loyal and trustworthy, keeping their promises. But such fortunate ones might only appear once in several decades.”

Imar, standing nearby, interjected, “And there were those ancient wars…”

“Shut it, Imar!” Balash interrupted him. “Enough of that, let’s go in.”

The dwarf warriors guarding the gates of the fortress widened their eyes upon seeing the young clan leader, Balash, bring a group of humans. They didn’t stop them but looked on curiously, as humans were a rarity for those dwarves who seldom descended from the mountains.

Stanford and his men, while feeling a bit uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gazes, entered the castle.

Inside, they discovered a different world. The castle wasn’t just a superficial layer carved into the cliff but extended deep within. Unlike the cramped tunnels they had traversed, the space inside was vast, resembling a town even by human standards.

The interior of the fortress featured well-developed roads and excellent ventilation, lacking the oppressive feel of the tunnels.

As they walked, Stanford saw taverns, marketplaces, shops, residences, and other functionally distinct areas bustling with activity, much like in the human world.

Indeed, this was a city embedded within the mountain.

A wide main avenue led directly to the dwelling of the clan chief, and they followed it to the end.

The clan chief’s residence, unlike the grandiose abodes of human kings or lords, was distinguished only by a slightly larger doorway than other dwarven structures.

Balash led them straight in, unobstructed.

The chief of the Hammer Clan, Balash’s father, greeted Captain Stanford in a spacious hall.

He was a dwarf whose beard nearly touched the ground, but his face was rosy and plump, his body robust. He was dressed in linen clothes with a shawl made of unknown animal hide.

Apart from his beard, the clan chief seemed no different from his kin.

“My child, why have you brought a group of humans to Furnace Fort?” the dwarf chief asked sternly, eyeing the group.

“Father!” Balash stepped forward to explain, “These humans saved Imar from orc bandits.”

“Oh?” The chief glanced at his nephew.

“Tell me the whole story in detail.”

Imar stepped up and dramatically recounted the events, as usual, with an exaggerated self-praise.

But his boasting served as a good cover, and the chief, knowing his nephew’s character, didn’t doubt the premise that “the humans had saved him.”

“So, what reward do you seek?”

“We wish to cross the Rocky Mountains to return to our homeland in the south,” Stanford requested, sharing their story.

“Please accept this modest gift from us, great King of Dwarves.”

He presented the gifts adeptly.

“King of Dwarves? Hahaha!”

The chief laughed, “Humans, you surely know how to flatter. Alright, I accept these exquisite little trinkets.”

“In light of your gift and the favor you did for my kin, as well as your bravery, I permit you to cross our territory. But you must swear to your gods not to reveal any details of your journey to others.”

“I swear to do as you ask!” Stanford thought, since he hardly remembered the details anyway.

The chief looked at his nephew.

“Alright! Imar, it’s getting late today. Take our human guests to rest. Tomorrow, find someone to guide them south, you know what to do.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

Stanford sighed in relief; the ordeal was finally coming to an end. He followed Imar out. Behind them, the voices of the dwarf chief and his son discussing matters could be heard.

“Balash, notify the elders to come later; we need to discuss something. Some orc brats are getting too bold, daring to target dwarves.”

“Yes, Father.”