Negotiation (2)

These words were like a Fireball spell thrown into the tavern, bringing their conversation to a grinding halt.

The old kobold, standing to the side like an old butler, bared his fangs. Murderous intent filled his eyes, and his furry ears perked up, making him look like a hunting hound ready to pounce.

Gently placing the wine bottle on the table, Irene's expression vanished, her gaze gradually turning cold.

She spoke in a flat tone, “First, thank you both for bringing this crucial news regarding the Duchy of Reny. It is indeed valuable, and for that, I must thank you.”

Bronzebeard's mind clearly couldn't keep up. He was about to wave his hand and say no thanks, but the next word stuffed the words back down his throat.

“However—”

Irene toyed with her wine glass, narrowing her eyes at the two dwarves. In an icy tone, she let out each word slowly: “Are. You. Threatening. Me?”

With those words, the atmosphere instantly became tense, so quiet that only the heavy breathing of the two dwarves could be heard.

The sound of the glass tapping against the table seemed to beat directly against everyone's hearts. Bronzebeard suddenly felt an immense pressure bearing down on him.

The young girl had a strange smile on her face as she lightly tapped the table, the glass in her hand looking as if it could slip out at any moment.

He had a sudden premonition that the moment the glass left her hand and shattered on the floor, a hundred axemen would burst through the door and chop him into mincemeat.

In truth, it wasn't just a premonition. The moment they stepped into the tavern, hundreds of Imperial Guards had already ambushed the surrounding area, completely surrounding the place. Once they received the signal, they would storm in...

Bronzebeard swallowed hard, suddenly realizing he might have spoken without thinking.

Just then...

Grey suddenly slapped his palm onto the table, shattering the eerie silence.

Everyone focused their gaze on him, only to see the dwarf wearing a pained expression as if he had just eaten feces, helplessly rubbing his forehead.

“Don't listen to this idiot's nonsense. He's drunk. He's making us upright dwarves sound like those silver-tongued devils from Hell.”

Grey cast a helpless glance at his companion, his face turning unprecedentedly serious.

“Your Grace, please don't misunderstand. We dwarves have no intention of making an enemy of you.”

Seeing the young girl stop toying with her glass and set it down, he finally breathed a sigh of relief and cautiously stole a glance behind him.

Just now, he had keenly sensed waves of murderous intent permeating from outside the door.

“It's like this.”

The dwarf pulled a piece of parchment from his storage ring, placed it on the table, and pushed it forward.

From Irene's angle, she could clearly read the top line written in the Common Tongue: 'Wine Supply Agreement.'

The little dragon girl studied the parchment with interest. When she first heard that a duchy had targeted her, although it was sudden, as a cowardly dragon, she had already started planning how to pack her bags and flee.

And when the dwarf arrogantly demanded her submission, she had even prepared to silence them to calm her nerves before running away.

She hadn't expected there to be a turn of events.

Irene looked at him with interest, quietly waiting for him to continue.

After composing himself and forcing down the alcohol's effects, Grey spoke again.

“Your Grace, I, Grey Ironforge, on behalf of the Dwarven Empire, offer you our sincerest apologies.”

After carefully choosing his words, he continued:

“This whole mess dragged you in because our Dwarven Empire breached our contract. The Empire wanted to compensate the Duchy of Reny, but that old geezer Edliman insists on making things difficult for you.”

“Well... as you know, we dwarves have remained a neutral faction for so many years. We cannot trigger a conflict with the humans over this.”

“The Dwarven King's idea is for Your Grace to pretend to pledge allegiance to our Dwarven Empire on the surface. With this connection, the Duchy of Reny naturally won't dare to do anything to you.”

“We have redrafted this agreement. The purchase price of the wine has been raised to thirty percent above market value to express our apologies.”

After saying this, as if fearing Irene would worry, he added, “Rest assured, you only need to verbally agree to this allegiance. The Empire will absolutely not interfere with any matters in the God-Forsaken Land.”

“Is that so?” Irene directed her gaze toward the other dwarf. Seeing that he had seemingly sobered up and was nodding frantically, she finally retracted her icy glare.

“And what if I refuse?”

Both dwarves froze at her words.

After a long pause, Grey licked his lips, his eyes locking onto the bottle of red wine on the table.

“Then... we can only use the excuse that the tunnel isn't fully excavated yet to stall for as much time as possible. Your Grace can take the opportunity to leave through the Great Gana Forest. If you're worried about danger, we can send escorts.”

“We dwarves have many connections across the entire continent. We can even help Your Grace quietly leave the Eastern Continent. We only hope that when the time comes, Your Grace can continue brewing this delicious red wine.”

Hearing this, Irene paused in thought, her eyes constantly sizing up the two dwarves who had come to deliver the news.

She couldn't quite understand why these dwarves would go to such lengths to help her. Logically, they were just in a buyer-seller relationship. Was there any need to go this far for her?

The little dragon girl fell into hesitation.

She figured dwarves weren't interested in her looks, right?

Didn't dwarves prefer thick beards and strong muscles?

For the wine? There were plenty of mixologists on the continent; they didn't need a fake one like her.

There was absolutely no need to risk making an enemy of a duchy for this.

After thinking for a moment, Irene decided to ask the question in her heart directly. For a straightforward race like the dwarves, beating around the bush was just a waste of time.

Thus, she spoke up, “Why is your empire willing to go to such lengths for me?”

Before Grey could respond, Bronzebeard suddenly chimed in from the side, “My apologies, esteemed mixologist. My head wasn't screwed on straight just now. Let me answer this.”

With that, he stood up, gave a bow, and said stiffly:

“We dwarves have a saying: a dwarf's spit is harder than the toughest ore. Once we give our word, we will absolutely keep it. We never owe anyone.”

“But you tore up your contract with the Duchy of Reny,” Irene suddenly pointed out.

“Uh...”

Bronzebeard was clearly choked up by her words and scratched his head.

“That was an accident. It's mainly because the wine they sold us over the past two years has tasted worse and worse. Sometimes I even wondered if I was drinking water or wine.”

“As you know, we dwarves only like to do three things: drink, mine, and forge... In the face of fine wine, it's not impossible to make an exception...”

His voice grew softer and softer as he spoke, scratching his thick beard in embarrassment. Then, he suddenly boomed:

“But since we breached the contract, we will definitely compensate. This whole situation was caused by us, so we will absolutely compensate you.”

“Heh...”

A soft chuckle escaped Irene's lips, gaining a new understanding of these folks who spent their lives with ore.

These guys were even more straightforward than what was recorded in her inherited memories, and their brains were indeed a bit slow.

However, sometimes this was a good thing. It was precisely because of this honest and straightforward personality that dwarves had become the most trusted equipment smiths across the continent.

Entrusting them with forging meant never having to worry about your equipment or materials being stolen—though their fees were outrageously high.

After all, almost all dwarves were alcoholics, and with their natural warrior builds, it was extremely rare for a spellcaster to be born among them, let alone a mixologist. They could only earn money this way to buy expensive drinks from other races.

After thinking it over briefly, Irene didn't immediately make up her mind whether to stay or leave. In the past, she definitely wouldn't have been so arrogant; after all, she was only an eleven-year-old baby dragon right now.

However, the situation was different now. She possessed alien technology. The enemy was just a duchy. If they didn't have any Legendary experts, maybe she could actually go toe-to-toe with them.

Thinking of this, Irene glanced at the two dwarves, who were anxiously awaiting her reply like expectant fathers.

“Would it be convenient to tell me about the strength of the Duchy of Reny?”