Warhammer: Return of the Dragon.

The feeling of being held in the dragon's hand... Thorgrin vaguely understood why many of the longbeards who had managed to survive the battle of revenge had suffered severe mental trauma from the dragon.

Minasnir's palms are very large, and an adult fire dragon can easily grab a huge white lion. When fully expanded, the area is comparable to a carriage.

Lao Mi’s palm is like a house...but the guests inside feel very bad.

Even though Thorgrin knew that the dragon lord who did not like contact with dwarves had no ill will towards him, he still felt resistance in his heart. The feeling of having his life controlled by others was not a good one at all.

Darkness enveloped the High King's vision. In order to avoid being noticed by the greenskins, or perhaps because the Phoenix King wanted to have some fun, the way this creature boarded the Dreadnought was to dive directly down from a thousand meters high, trying to create a big surprise for the dwarves.

And Thorgrin was totally unaware of this...

"Imrick, how long will it take? It takes so long to fly into the Dreadnought Fort?!"

"Almost done. The green-skinned wyvern is a bit annoying. You know I'm not good at dealing with creatures with the word dragon in their names..."

"Don't be ridiculous! Once you enter the Dreadnought Fort, you must immediately attack the rear of the greenskins and prepare to break out of the Dreadnought Fort!"

"I'm a qualified lobbyist. Don't you want to hear how I convinced Thuringer?"

As they flew higher, Imrik did not forget to tease Thorgrim that the High King curled up in the dragon's claws seemed a little... too funny. He would remember this scene and engrave it on the secret wall of the Dragon's Palace, waiting for the right person to visit one day.

"No need. If Tullinger doesn't listen..."

"You just killed him? I like that approach."

"In the name of the ancestors and gods, I will forcibly deprive him of his title of king, and in the name of the High King, I will allow all the dwarves of Fearless Fort to break out!"

“That’s a stupid thing to say. No one will listen to you. If Finubar came to the Dragon Court and said that…”

"You will kill him, but we are dwarves. I will never give up any way to save my compatriots, even if it costs my reputation and rule!"

“Okay, okay, here comes another noble dwarven racial theory. I really hope your magic-averse constitution can be adjusted according to the situation, or else you can just open a portal to the Dreadnought Fort and rescue all the stubborn and damned dwarves inside.

Remember Erickson? He died before he accepted some of the risky proposals we offered..."

The face of the late king... Erickson, vaguely appeared before Thorgrin. He had violated many rules of his ancestors, as had his uncle.

Despite the threats from the greenskins in the mountains and the advice of the Council of Elders, he insisted on supporting the war in the North and even reached a secret agreement with Caledor, who had a deep hatred for the dwarves...but it all seemed worth it.

The High King clenched his fists, remembering his uncle's last words, that he would lead the Mountain Kingdom through the Dark Ages no matter what.

"How long will it take!"

"Almost there...prepare for landing."

The violent impact brought countless dust and debris into the nostrils of the High King. He immediately understood why Imrik took so much time, because the damn dragon boy didn't even consider a normal landing.

The impact caused by the dive ignited the fuse of the already extremely nervous Dreadnought Fortress...

Minasnir landed on the top bunker. Imrik wanted to rush straight to the King's Hall, but the dwarf liked to live inside the mountain, so it was not wise to force his flesh and blood body into it.

“Oh, oh, oh, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen such a battle… Should I kill you dwarves who have raised weapons against the Elven Lord, or should I just surrender and enter the dungeon of the dark night?” “The Phoenix King of the Elves…”

The leading Hammer Warrior recalled the arrogant face based on some memories. After a hundred years, the elf's face had not changed at all. He was still as young and handsome as ever, and still as worthy of a beating as ever...

"Where's Thuring? Let him come over..."

"Shit, shut the fuck up."

Cursing sounds, along with bursts of coughing, came out from Lao Mi's loosened palms. A short figure, completely disproportionate to the size of the dragon, was seen patting the dust in front of him and cursing Imrik.

"Your Majesty...the High King?"

The Hammer Warrior, who was originally in a nervous state, looked in disbelief at the figure wearing the crown of the Karaz dragon, the armor of Skedur, and holding the axe of Grimnir. The gray and snow-white beard was the symbol of Thorgrim's reign.

Since the departure of the previous king, Thorgrim has ruled the mountains for more than two hundred years. He is only a short time away from being called the High King of Greatbeard. Every dwarf deeply respects this lord of revival and is willing to unite under the name of those who have grievances and settle every hatred.

Without taking the time to tidy up his dusty beard, Thorgrin ordered solemnly and without question: "Gallarek, take me to see Tullinger and convene the Council of Elders!"

The seriousness of the High King and the playfulness of the Phoenix King on the dragon's back formed a sharp contrast, which made Galarik dazed for a moment. Why on earth were the two monarchs who were least likely to appear in the Dreadnought Fort immediately standing together at this moment?

"Galarrick!"

Thorgrin no longer had the energy to explain to a peak gate guard. He had to quickly and immediately make Tullinger understand that staying here meant waiting for death.

"Yes!"

The High King quickly followed the Hammer Warrior into the castle, looked back at the dragon still in the cave, and gave orders to the guards around him with a little hesitation.

"Ignore the pointy ears and continue your duties... follow his orders."

"But……"

"No buts! This is an order!"

The High King left in a hurry, leaving Imrik alone in the position where the mustache was on guard.

Imrik jumped off the dragon's back and looked thoughtfully at the group of peak gate guards, most of whom were injured. Although Iron Hammer Warrior was the highest title for a warrior in the dwarven society, only the highly respected Longbeards were qualified to participate in some extremely honorary positions.

The Peak Gate Guards are just as important as the Ironbreakers who guard the tunnels and enjoy a very high reputation.

"Did the greenskins launch an attack on Fort Dreadnought?"

No one responded to the Phoenix King's words, which made him change his language. After all, he couldn't always assume that the other party was a natural translator.

"You short guys, you are in such a mess. Who beat you so badly?"

"Shut up, damn it..."

Imrick's unfriendly eyes constantly reminded the dwarf who was speaking that the elf in front of him was not an adventurer that could be seen on the roadside at any time, and that saying the wrong thing would cost him a heavy price. (End of this chapter)