A gloomy, dark castle stood on the lakeside where black duckweed was floating. The spire of the castle looked like a javelin in the style of the ancient Magic Empire.
Carrying a bag of ores on his back, Harold Steelhammer walked towards the warehouse of the castle. His steps were heavy, and his movement was slow.
As a young dwarf, he was not as muscular as those elders who wielded huge hammers as if they were toys. The bag of ores was indeed a bit too heavy for him.
However, Harold had no complaints about the heavy physical labor. At least he could still live, and at least he would not become the food of the vampire master like those selected delicate dwarves.
This castle belonged to Vlad Cecil, the great Count of the Blood Race. He controlled hundreds of dwarven villages around the castle and selected the "pure blood and flesh" from them as his food. He also ordered the remaining slaves to work in the mines and the castle, mining and smelting the unique Nidam gold, as well as the rare Kalamo iron and mithril that were unique to the Night Highland.
From the moment the dwarves were born, their fates seemed to have been predestined. They would either become food or die early after all the power in their bodies was squeezed out. The only thing left in their lives was the part where they combined to reproduce.
Although Harold had never left the village where he was born and the castle of Vlad Count, he "heard" that the dwarves in the desolate south where he was now, and in the north where the horrible reputation was widespread, all lived in the same painful and numb way.
Thinking of this, Harold raised his head and looked up at the darkness that always covered the sky above the highland. Looking up at the bright constellations, he felt a little bit lost and sad.
"Is my life going to follow such a fixed path with no hope at all? Is the dwarves never going to recover the glory of the ancient times?"
Crack! A sharp pain came from Harold's face. A bloody whip mark suddenly appeared on the left side of his face and extended across his unique big nose to the right side of his face.
"Move faster! What are you waiting for?" The vicious voice came, and the shadow of the whip was still in front of Harold's eyes.
Yes, dwarves had more than two destinies. They could also betray their ancestors and please the vampires like dogs. They could become their blood servants and watch over their companions.
How could vampires, who considered themselves elegant and noble, manage the dirty miners and coolies by themselves? Naturally, they would need servants to do the tedious work. However, every vampire would consume their own blood source when they performed The Embrace. If a weak vampire developed too many descendants, they would decay prematurely. Therefore, even high-level vampires were unwilling to casually give birth to descendants through The Embrace.
Furthermore, the vampires had a very high opinion of themselves. They viewed most of the lives of other races as filthy, lowly, and inferior creatures. They did not value or like them very much, so it was impossible for them to waste the Origin of Blood to transform them into vampires. Therefore, the number of orthodox vampires had always been maintained in a small range. A large number of them were blood servants who had their blood sucked but had not died, and who obeyed their orders like puppets.
As a blood servant, their power was close to that of an official Knight, but it could not be improved. Their lifespan was only one-tenth of that of their masters, and they could never rebel against their masters.
Harold took a glance at the dwarf who was wearing luxurious clothes and holding a whip. He lowered his eyes so that the dwarf would not notice the anger in his eyes, "Yes, Butler Wells."
This damn traitor had reported and whipped many of his own kind to death. He was just a supervisor, but he liked to be called a butler. When the real vampire butler Galata showed up, he would kneel down and kiss the tips of his shoes.
The red-haired dwarf, Wells, had shaved off the big beard that he was proud of because his master, Vlad, hated beards, revealing his bumpy face. At this moment, when he saw Harold's' handsome 'brown beard, he couldn't help but feel annoyed. He waved his right hand and gave Harold another whip.
"What were you thinking just now? Dwarves don't need to think! Do you understand? I'm asking you, do you understand? Lowly, filthy, bastard dwarf! "
It seemed that Wells had forgotten that he was also a dwarf, and he had completely regarded himself as a noble blood servant.
"Yes, Butler Wells." The veins on Harold's hands bulged.
"Get out of here!" Wells did not want to be scolded by Mr. Galata.
As soon as Harold took a few steps forward, Wells's vicious voice became very flattering, "Good afternoon, Mrs. Tess, Mr. Galata. This way, please. There's a lot of ore powder in there. It's very dirty, and the stinky dwarves will offend you."
Without looking back, Harold could imagine Wells's flattering face, and the tall vampire butler Galata's meticulous style. He always wore a black suit and a neat bow tie.
Madame Tess, on the other hand, was still as beautiful and enchanting as before. Her golden hair, slender figure, and green eyes had never changed since she was turned into a vampire by Count Vlad.
Harold's heart ached when he thought of Mrs. Tess. Mrs. Tess was the most beautiful female dwarf in the hundreds of villages nearby. She was Harold's dream lover, but unfortunately, she was chosen by Vlad Count and became his vampire bride.
Harold lowered his head and walked slowly with the bag of ores on his back. A crisp voice came from behind, "Hurry up. Don't let them be lazy."
"Pay attention to the investigation. Some of the dwarves who ran away have formed a rebel army. Don't let them destroy the mine."
…
He busied himself until the position of the constellation changed and the evening arrived. Only then did Harold end his heavy labor and got a chance to take a breather. Then, he took his ration — two pieces of black bread — and left the castle, heading back to his home in the nearby village.
As he walked, Harold suddenly looked around vigilantly. Seeing that there was no one nearby, his expression immediately became excited. He turned into a remote road and walked quickly with the darkness behind him and the starlight draped over him.
After walking for about ten minutes and passing through a few sparse black poplar forests, Harold saw an ordinary-looking boulder.
He looked around again and then carefully walked to the back of the rock and knocked on the surface of the rock.
"Steam above all." The weird dwarf words came out of his mouth. They sounded like a spell, but he did not use any spiritual power.
As soon as the voice disappeared, a crack appeared on the rock, as if a gate was opened. A dwarf with a dusty face stuck his head out of the crack and looked around. Then he waved his hand, "Come in, Harold."
Harold quickly got in and watched the dwarf close the gate and lock it. Then he threw a piece of black bread to the dwarf, "Uncle Warren, I'm going down now."
"Go ahead. The Chief Elder is waiting for you, my son." Warren caught the bread and drank some water. He was chewing the bread as if he had been starving for a long time.
Harold understood that Uncle Warren and the other dwarven rebels hiding in the underground had been starved of food for a long time. Therefore, he shook his head sadly and walked deeper into the underground through the tunnel.
As he drank the water that he carried with him and ate the black bread, he sighed with emotion at the grandeur of the underground palace built by his ancestors, which was deeply shocking.
"How could such a great ancestor be defeated by the vampires?"
"Were they rejected by the gods?"
There were many murals engraved on the bricks on both sides. There were airships that blotted out the sky, steam ships that sailed on the ocean, terrifying cannons that bombarded dragons, steam locomotives that ran across the plains … Although Harold had seen these murals many times, he couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion every time he saw them. Therefore, he loved to listen to Great Elder Augustus Heartbreak talk about the Age of Steam. When he thought about the glorious civilization of his ancestors, it was as if just thinking about it filled his life with hope and inherited glory.
At the end of the tunnel, there was a grand hall that seemed to be used for rituals. On both sides of the hall were rows of small houses. The roaring sound of steam came from inside the hall. Many strong dwarves were driving steam hammers to forge weapons.
"Harold, you're here?" A dwarf with a long white beard slightly nodded at Harold. Then he looked at Harold and sighed, "It's a pity that our civilization has been lost. We can't make complicated steam engines, cannons, and rifles. We can only make sharper swords and axes. But we can only deal with the blood slaves. We can't do anything to the vampires, not to mention the north where the horrible vampires are. "
His tone was bleak and sad.
"Great Elder …" A few "leaders" who were dressed simply but had a higher status than the other dwarves tried to stop him. How could they create a desperate atmosphere in the resistance army?
Augustus smiled calmly, "Myrna, Quiggins … We have to let our people understand the situation we're in. This is a path without any hope. Kneel and live on, or defend the glory of our ancestors with blood and die like a real dwarf. We have to make the choice ourselves."
"Steam above all!" A roar suddenly came from the small houses on both sides. "We're doomed to a painful death anyway!"
While sharing the food, Augustus asked Harold about the recent situation in the castle. They chose to hide in Count Vlad's territory because they heard that Count Vlad was injured by some "magical magic" in a war in his early years. He had not fully recovered and needed to sleep to keep himself from decaying.
"… Madam Tess is asking the blood slaves to look for you …" Harold told Augustus what little information he knew. Then he looked at Augustus hopefully, "Great Elder, can you tell me more about the ancient steam civilization?"
Myrna, who was still young and pretty, was also full of expectation. Listening to the great elder's story was a rare "light" in the hard life of the resistance army.
"… We dwarves once ruled the vast land. At the estuaries of the Boundless Ocean, at the banks of the Niegnin River, and in countless prosperous places, we built huge cities … The chimneys made of steel stood like a forest, spewing out black smoke. Sometimes, they could even block the sunlight and make the day dark …"
"… Between the cities, there were huge steam trains running. It only took a few hours to get from here to the north … Every dwarf had enough food and all kinds of mechanical products, such as the steam elevator that could lift people to the top of the building, and the steam boiler that always had hot water for you to take a bath …"
"… The great dwarven warriors carried high-pressure steam packs, were equipped with mechanical arms, and carried steam rifles, exploring the dangerous wilderness … The steam ships sailed on the ocean, and the huge cannons made the enemies surrender …"
Although Harold, Myrna, and the other dwarves did not know what the sun was, it did not stop them from listening with great interest. That was the paradise in their dreams.
Combined with the murals, the cities with steam machines appeared vividly in their minds.
Harold clenched his fists and swore that one day, he would rebuild the dwarven city.
When Augustus was telling the story, his face was full of pride and yearning. The wrinkles on his face were like blooming petals.
"Okay, that's all for today. It's time for us to worship the God of Steam, the great master of life and death." Augustus stood up and walked to the center of the hall, where there was an altar with strange patterns on it.
"Great Elder, will it really work?" Myrna, the girl with flaxen hair, asked confusedly.
Augustus gave her a stare and said seriously, "When we excavated this ruin, we found the ritual that our ancestors used to worship the gods, didn't we? They were so powerful and so smart. Why would they do something useless? I think our civilization was destroyed because we neglected the God of Steam and were abandoned by him. So we need to be more pious to get his favor again. "
"Yes, great elder." In this desperate situation, any little chance could let the dwarves light the torch of hope.
Therefore, all the dwarves, including Harold, gathered in front of the altar and followed the Chief Elder's strange gestures and movements, dancing an inexplicable dance.
"The great God of Steam, your pious servants pray to you."
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
