The stone door at the entrance of the secret passage closed behind them. Every few paces along the front walls, a fluorite stone was embedded, barely illuminating a path that stretched downward.
Leopold walked in front, with Isabella following half a step behind him. The rock walls on both sides gradually became damp, and the air was filled with the scent of various minerals.
As Leopold walked, he suddenly slowed his pace.
“...Do you smell that?”
Isabella stopped behind him and sniffed as well. “Sulfur. And... rust?”
“More than that,” Leopold crouched down, touching the marks on the ground. “Wheel tracks. They're very fresh, likely left within the past few days.”
The two dragons exchanged a look and continued deeper inside.
The secret passage sloped downward for about a hundred meters. The path gradually widened, and the fluorite stones on both sides became denser.
“Leo, there's light ahead,” Isabella whispered.
Leopold stopped. He pressed his side against the rock wall and poked his head forward to look.
An orange-yellow firelight flickered from around the corner at the end of the passage, and the pungent smell in the air grew even stronger.
“...Sulfur, saltpeter,” Leopold muttered softly. “And charcoal.”
Isabella asked softly from behind him, “Is there something wrong with those?”
“These are the ingredients for making gunpowder!”
Leopold's pupils constricted. He quickened his pace, poking half his head out from the shadow of the corner.
Sure enough, behind the shadow was a massive, naturally formed cavern, about twenty meters high. Rows of neat wooden shelves lined the sides, stacked high with burlap sacks and wooden crates.
But what caught Leopold's attention the most were the twenty black rifled cannons resting in a corner of the cavern.
“...Is this goblin craftsmanship?” Isabella whispered.
“No.” Leopold stared at the patterns engraved on the cannons, his gaze slowly shifting to the wooden crates beside them.
“These should be of dwarven make,” Leopold's voice sank. “Gorn said the dwarves are at war with the elves... According to my inherited memories, they do possess this technology.”
“Shh!” Isabella pulled Leopold back. “Someone's coming.”
“...Only three days left until completion. The remaining batch of gunpowder will arrive tomorrow night at the latest.”
“The Alliance is pushing hard. They promised that if we succeed this time, they'll give us five more cannons afterward.”
“That Gorn always thinks he's some big shot, actually wanting to unify all the tribes. Once we blow those three dragons to high heaven, let's see what backing he has left—”
Leopold and Isabella held their breath simultaneously. The voices grew closer; they belonged to two goblins.
“Do you think those three dragons are really that powerful? I heard from the brothers patrolling the north that last night's fight in the mine shaft was absolutely devastating.”
“Hmph, so what if they're powerful? No matter how powerful a dragon is, they can't withstand a volley from twenty dwarven cannons. Once I load the shells and blow them to hell, any dragon will be blasted to pieces.”
“True... but the captain wants us to wait for that 'big gift' in four days to strike together. When the time comes, we'll detonate the gunpowder all over the royal capital first. Once chaos breaks out, we'll aim the cannons right at the castle—”
“Stop talking. Go quickly and check if the batch of fuses in the east got damp. If something goes wrong with this shipment, it won't be easy to account for it to the Alliance.”
The footsteps gradually faded, moving toward the eastern side of the cavern.
Only after the two goblins had completely walked away did Leopold slowly let out a breath.
“This is an all-out attack. It's not just aimed at us; they want to destroy the entire order of the Bronzebeard Tribe.”
Isabella fell silent for a few seconds, then her eyes turned resolute. “Leo, we must go back and tell Gorn.”
Leopold nodded, but then he furrowed his brows. “But we can't just go back like this.”
“You indeed cannot go back just like this.”
Leopold's body instantly tensed, and he and Isabella turned around simultaneously. A goblin stood in the shadows of the secret passage's corner, but he was unlike any goblin Leopold had ever seen. He was a full head taller than a normal goblin and wore a set of dark brown leather armor.
“You shouldn't have come here,” the goblin spoke slowly, his voice even lower than before. “But since you're here, it saves me a lot of trouble.”
“And who might you be?” Leopold asked, having already confirmed that the goblin before them posed absolutely no threat to them.
“Greystone Alliance, Third Legion Commander, Krag.”
“And you think you can stop us from leaving by yourself?” Leopold narrowed his eyes.
“Of course I know that killing me would be effortless for you,” Krag shook his head, speaking slowly.
“Respected Black Dragon, the negotiations will definitely fail. A war among the goblins is inevitable.”
“Yet the foolish leaders of the Greystone Alliance actually pin their hopes on twenty cannons to kill you!”
Leopold's gaze lingered on Krag for a moment. He was in no hurry to speak.
“...You say the leaders of the Greystone Alliance are foolish,” Leopold said slowly. “Then what about you? Why are you here?”
Krag took two steps forward, stopping at the boundary where the firelight from the cavern met the shadows of the secret passage. The firelight illuminated half of his face.
“I do not fear death; I fear destruction.” Krag bowed to Leopold and Isabella in turn.
“...You still haven't answered my question,” Leopold said. “Why are you here?”
“To stop a war destined for defeat.”
Isabella knit her brows slightly. “You just said the negotiations will definitely fail and that war is inevitable. Now you say you want to stop the war? Don't you find that contradictory?”
“It is not contradictory,” Krag shook his head. “The negotiations will fail because the leaders of the Greystone Alliance have no intention of negotiating at all. They will not surrender their privileges and interests. But I know that once the cannons roar, those who bleed will only be the children of miners and blacksmiths.”
Krag's eyes darkened. “So, the true majority does not want to fight.”
“And so?” Leopold seemed to catch Krag's drift.
“The Greystone Alliance consists of seven tribes, with its headquarters in Bratak.” Krag straightened up. “I hope you will go to Bratak and kill all the high-ranking leaders of the Greystone Alliance!”
“You want me, an outsider, to help you purge your own compatriots?”
“They are not my compatriots,” Krag's voice was low and steady. “They are merely a bunch of powerful elites who sit on piles of ore and issue orders. The real goblins are sweating in the mine shafts and shedding blood and tears by the furnaces.”
“I followed them for seventeen whole years. I trained their armies and suppressed rebellious miners on their behalf.”
There was no anger in Krag's eyes, only a deathly calm. “Until last winter, when the leader of the Greystone Alliance, in order to curry favor with the dwarves, slashed the winter food rations of three tribes by forty percent just to trade for a batch of outdated, discarded dwarven muskets.”
“That winter, over a hundred goblins froze to death. One of them was my younger sister.”
“And so, I suddenly came to my senses. A race under such leadership has no future.”
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