Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

Just like Marekis three days earlier, Dakous smiled the moment he saw the convoy.

Five horse-drawn carriages arrived.

The carriages were painted a vibrant, striking red, gleaming in the sunlight like burning flames. Exquisite bronze and brass fittings were inlaid throughout, reflecting a cool metallic sheen, making the entire convoy both magnificent and imposing. Each carriage was pulled by two horses, their coats glossy and manes meticulously groomed, but unlike the previous three days, the horses had blindfolds that could be lowered at any time. The thrones at the front of the carriages were dignified, while platforms were provided on the sides or rear of the carriages for the occupants to stand and hold onto.

What's most eye-catching, however, is not the car itself, but the passengers.

The entire group was female, with not a single man. The members possessed both courtly elegance and a certain disciplined order. The scene was like a striking contrast of colors, stretching across the gray-brown cobblestone street.

The leader of the group was Princess Alicia, the mother of the Ty brothers, a woman with enormous influence in both academic and political circles.

A single meeting and a single statement have yielded results that have shaken the entire Ausuan, though of course, the news hasn't spread yet.

The Hoth faction, once the most steadfast ally of the Caledonian faction, has now officially sided with Duruchi. The archmages and great scholars residing in Lorthen also expressed their support at the meeting, becoming a reliable force for Duruchi.

As an archmage who was also a member of the Hoss faction, Alicia chose her own path before the meeting even began. She volunteered to become one of the leaders of the Lorthen Fire Brigade.

Her identity is far more than just that of a mage.

She was both a member of the Hoth lineage and of noble Lorthen blood. With this dual identity, she understood that the nobility must set an example. Thus, at her and the wife of Fenubal's joint call, almost all the female nobles responded, shedding their long gowns, donning uniforms, joining the fire brigade, undergoing training, and taking to the streets.

This is also why Finubal's wife stepped out of the courtyard, onto the street, and walked in another direction; she is the leader of another fire brigade. Their actions were not merely about responding to an impending fire, but also symbolized their will to participate in the reshaping of the new era's order.

Men went to battle, rushing to the front lines; women also fought, but on different battlefields. They battled flames and fought against collapses, protecting the city and its people in a different way.

In Nagarus and Aishriel, with the arrival of a new era, fire brigades have become an indispensable part of the system. Whether in towering factory districts, crowded apartment complexes, or at ports, train stations, and armories, the fire brigade's insignia is ubiquitous. Often composed of retired female soldiers and women of marriageable age, they are disciplined, responsive, and a vital force in urban defense and order maintenance.

In the beginning, the core equipment of the fire department was the heavy yet awe-inspiring steam-powered fire truck. It was a product of a transitional era when mechanical and magical craftsmanship had not yet fully merged; it was cumbersome, noisy, but highly symbolic. It used a steam engine to drive the water pump, completely replacing the laborious and inefficient hand-cranked water pump system of the past. A coal-fired boiler was mounted at the rear of the vehicle; when the boiler bulged, the whole vehicle seemed to breathe, the metal plates vibrated, and the exhaust valve emitted a piercing hiss.

A tall, foldable or retractable chimney is attached to the top of the boiler. It can be lowered to prevent collisions when traveling, and erected when in operation, spewing white hot smoke into the sky. The steam engine drives two piston-type water pumps. The internal mechanical engagement and reciprocating pistons, accompanied by the clanging of metal, continuously generate powerful water pressure.

The pressure was enough to propel water tens of meters high, like a white water snake plunging into the sea of ​​fire, carrying the primal power of the mechanical age. The vehicle also carried a black coal bin for storing fuel; the larger the fire, the more intensely the coal burned, and the louder the roar of the boiler. Back then, the firefighters' faces and clothes were always stained with a mixture of coal ash and sweat, but their silhouettes in the firelight were the city's last line of defense.

However, as time went by, this bulky steam fire engine gradually came to an end.

With the construction and rise of New Hagrid Grave, the "Chemical City," everything changed. That city was one of the cores of Nagalos' industry, a melting pot of countless innovations and risks, and it was there that the first chemical fire trucks were designed, tested, and put into service.

Unlike steam pump trucks, chemical fire trucks are completely independent of external water sources. They are a self-contained system suitable for initial fire suppression in areas lacking water or where water sources are distant.

To put it simply, it is a mobile, large-scale pressure fire extinguisher.

Through a chemical reaction tank inside the vehicle, high-pressure gas and fire extinguishing agents are mixed to rapidly spray chemical foam that inhibits combustion. This foam adheres to the surface of the burning material, isolates it from the air, and lowers the temperature, extinguishing small to medium-sized fires within tens of seconds.

There's no way around it, that's just how Nagarus is; the concept of "three connections and one leveling" doesn't exist for him. The so-called "three connections and one leveling" refers to having access to water, electricity, roads, and leveled land.

There was no fixed fire-fighting water source, so the emergence of chemical fire trucks was a practical response to this backward situation.

A standard fire brigade is equipped with five vehicles: two chemical fire trucks for rapid response and initial fire suppression; and two ladder trucks specifically designed for high-rise rescue and water jetting from heights.

The ladder truck is the most eye-catching part of the entire convoy. It carries an extremely long wooden ladder composed of multiple sections, reinforced with metal strips. Using a pulley system and crank mechanism, the ladder can be smoothly raised, lowered, and extended. The base of the ladder is mounted on a 360-degree rotating platform; the operator can instantly adjust the angle and direction by simply turning a control handle, precisely aiming at the fire source or rescue point.

The last one is an auxiliary vehicle.

Its mission is to rapidly transport various tools and supplies, including hoses, connectors, ropes, and breaching equipment. Large rollers on both sides of the vehicle neatly wind up canvas or rubber fire hoses; the rear features a tool rack with fire axes, grappling hooks, lights, protective clothing, portable fire extinguishers, breathing apparatus, and other auxiliary equipment. Each tool has its own number and purpose, allowing firefighters to find what they need by touch, even in the chaos of a night fire.

To be honest, from a practical point of view, the specific role of such a fire brigade is more like the core of an organization. Due to limitations in equipment and manpower, they can usually only handle the initial firefighting and preliminary rescue of small-scale fires.

But the strength of Duruci's system lies in the fact that they are never fighting alone.

Nagalus and Ashriel have a multitude.

The masses in the truest sense!

The public has received basic training and knows how to evacuate properly and how to extinguish fires effectively.

When a factory catches fire, workers, led by the fire brigade, will engage in firefighting operations, and the same applies to other areas. Not to mention, troops and sorceresses are stationed both inside and outside the city. When the fire expands to a point where it cannot be controlled by ordinary means, the army will intervene, while sorceresses piloting raiding ships will appear in the sky to suppress the fire and assist in rescue efforts from the air.

In Lorthen, this system was given an even higher level of order and cooperation. The fire brigade here not only had the mechanical power of the Duruch, but also the assistance of the Holy Resurrection Weavers of Ulthuan.

Black Knights, Sea Guards, Asur soldiers, and even Duruqi soldiers will enter the scene when needed, working alongside the fire brigade. They assist with moving, maintaining order, and sealing off areas—a comprehensive rescue system spanning multiple fields and social classes is quietly taking shape.

From steam to chemistry, from human labor to organization, from the roar of burning coal to the hiss of chemical reactions, behind all these changes lies not only the evolution of technology, but also a leap in civilization. It was the prelude to the new world jointly constructed by Trucchi and Asur, a new era that no longer relied on miracles, but on order, reason, and will.

As for what exactly the Ulthuan Holy Resurrection Lifeweaver Society is, that's a long story, a really long one.

Learn about the Labor Front (DAF).

Karendir (Chapter 857) and the Asur who returned to the neighborhood were actually already part of this nascent organization, but they were unaware of it.

For them, it was merely a continuation of neighborhood defense and community collaboration, a natural act of vigilance; but at a higher level, they had become an integral part of the future order, unconscious founders of the new system.

In fact, the organization was still in the paper stage at this time. Although the charter had been written and the leadership had been selected, the overall structure had not been officially made public, and no ceremonial founding meeting had been held.

Its current state of existence is just like a dish that is reducing its sauce. All the ingredients, seasonings, and cooking time are ready. It is just waiting for the final reduction process to be completed. When the aroma is strong, this dish, that is, this organization, will be officially served and become a new order that can change the entire landscape of Ulthuan.

And the moment to reduce the sauce—is today!
This is also why Bel-Aihol was not there; he was chosen by Malekith and Dakous to become the organization's first leader—a position worthy of being recorded in history.

Because only he possesses the qualifications and weight to move freely between two worlds and to unite them into one.

In Ausuan, he was a high-ranking nobleman of illustrious lineage, whose glory and heritage were sufficient to underpin any political structure. His father and his surname both symbolized antiquity and authority.

In Nagarus, his identity transcended racial barriers; he did not act as Asur, but as Darkus's lieutenant, active in that cold land.

He once visited various academies and departments on behalf of Dakos. Over time, the generals and leaders of Duruci recognized and trusted him, and even regarded him as another face of Dakos to some extent.

This trust is not earned through bloodline, but through ability, courage, and prestige accumulated over many years.

That's his qualifications.

As for ability? That goes without saying.

If we were to draw an analogy, he would be equivalent to Karashir, who oversaw the army's logistics system—a chosen one, capable of finding order amidst chaos and building a new empire from ruins. He was the kind of person born for this job, not as an executor, but as a builder; not as a follower, but as someone who could control the direction of the tide.

Instead of following his brother in pursuit, he ended up falling into the sea and dying under mysterious circumstances.

Dakos and Finnubar raised their hands and waved slowly to the red convoy. At that moment, sunlight slanted across the street, reflecting a golden glow from the bronze trim on the cars. The women, led by Alicia, also raised their hands in unison, their posture elegant yet resolute—the power of women in the new era, a determination that was both gentle and strong.

Amid the rumble of wheels, Dakos, Finnuber, Jerian, and Genevieve moved unhurriedly among the convoy. The wind at the street corner fluttered the flags, red and blue intertwined, like threads symbolizing the fates of Assur and Duruci, tightly bound together at that moment.

Until the convoy turned onto another street.

Finnubar watched the departing convoy in silence for a long time before finally letting out a heavy sigh and looking at Dakos.

"The process might be a bit bumpy, but the outcome is inevitable." Although Finnubal didn't say anything, Darkus knew what he meant and offered comfort before Finnubal could speak. He paused for a moment, a slight smile playing on his lips, patted his chest, and his tone suddenly became relaxed, full of confidence and a touch of sarcasm, "If all else fails, I'll unleash my full power and kill them all! Trust me, I have the strength!"

Finnubar's expression froze for a moment, then his lips twitched, revealing a look that was both amused and helpless. Finally, he couldn't help but burst out laughing, a laugh of utter speechlessness, yet also tinged with a sense of relief.

“There is an old saying in China…” Darkus suddenly became serious, as if trying to recall, “Without destruction… there is no construction; great destruction… great construction; enlightenment… new life.”

He stammered as he translated the sentence into El Salin, which made Genevieve look at him with surprise and almost burst out laughing.

She held back for a few seconds, but the corners of her mouth still couldn't help but curve upwards. If the occasion weren't so inappropriate, she really wanted to ask, "I've been at Aurora University for so many years, how come I've never heard this phrase before?"

“Very philosophical!” Finnubar pondered for a moment, then slowly nodded in acknowledgment. His tone carried an unusual seriousness, as if he had truly been struck by some ancient and obscure wisdom.

"On the road of life, one must be brave enough to face challenges and dare to break with convention in order to rise from adversity and embrace a brighter future." Dakos said, gesturing with his hands as if he were explaining the core doctrine of some Far Eastern philosophy class: "Without breaking the old rules, it is impossible to create new rules; only by breaking the old rules can new laws be created; only by breaking the old rules can one be reborn."

After being bombarded with motivational platitudes, he himself grew tired of it, pursed his lips, and lazily added a comment.

"This street is too narrow."

In that instant, the solemnity in the air shattered completely.

Indeed, the streets are far too narrow.

The city layout of Lorthorn was already too exquisite, and the planning concepts of the Asur people, which pursued the beauty of curves and ornamentation, often meant that in reality, it would be difficult to move an inch.

The wheels of the carriages screeched on the cobblestones, and the pillars at the street corners, the hanging awnings, and the tiered, ornate balconies made it nearly impossible for any carriage to pass without having to squeeze past.

Of course, that's a bit of an exaggeration.

After Darkus returned, Malekith complained to him more than once about how narrow the streets of Lortheon were and how often they were congested. Malekith ignored his complaints, thinking that Malekith had been brainwashed by the Holy Fire, suffering from dementia and completely forgetting what Nagarus was like in the old days.

He first saw Marus on the walls of Krakarond. It was the old city wall, located within the city. Not some inner city symbolizing authority, but rather a typical layered structure—one city within another, one layer enveloping another.

The cities of Nagarus lacked long-term planning, relying instead on the short-sighted repairs of their rulers.

Add flour if there's too much water, add water if there's too much flour.

When the population exceeds the carrying capacity, the wall is built outwards, and then a new wall is built after the old one is completed.

In the end, the whole of Krakarond was like a giant mille-feuille, each layer wrapped with old scars and new flesh.

Aside from the aristocratic district, the rest of the area felt like a breathing maze, with streets and alleys intertwined, rooftops almost touching, layers of shadows, and sunlight never reaching the ground.

When necessary, fortifications do not need to be built; they are all readily available, temporary, and pieced together.

People who don't live there will be completely bewildered if they go in.

Dakos remembers it very clearly.

The path he took from the noble district of Krakarond to the lumberyard was not one that could be walked on by a human. It was a narrow, twisted, and eerie passage, the air itself carrying the damp, decaying smell of decay.

“Indeed.” Finnubar paused for a moment, then nodded in agreement.

He had been to Nagalos, seen its streets and urban planning, and understood the awe-inspiring contrast. The main thoroughfare connecting the east, west, north, and south of Nagalond, equipped with trams, left a deep impression on him.

Duru and his companions sped along the straight road on their two-wheeled vehicles; the glass greenhouses on both sides of the main road reflected the light, adding a strange touch of brightness to the city that was originally shrouded in leaden gray shadows.

At that moment, he even felt that the overcast sky seemed a little gentler.

"The Vale priests of Nagarus are researching vehicles powered by liquid fuel," Darkus threw out a hook-like question, his tone casual yet deliberately mysterious.

"Oh?" Finnubar was immediately intrigued.

His eyebrows rose slightly, and he slowed his pace, like a scholar lured into a trap, both curious and wary.

“One driver’s seat, one passenger seat, and doors on both sides,” Darkus continued. “There’s also an operating mechanism in the middle of the driver’s seat. What is the width of this vehicle?”

After saying that, he turned his head and looked at Yelian walking behind him, as if he had suddenly thrown out a trap question in class.

Jerian did not respond immediately. He narrowed his eyes slightly, as if sketching the model of the fictional vehicle in his mind, and then stretched out his hands to begin gesturing.

At first, he was quite serious, gesturing to the driver's seat and the passenger seat with precise and calm movements, like a technician explaining the structure of the car. But when he gestured to the car door, his movements gradually became exaggerated.

The hands stretched wider and wider, reaching further and further, as if the car door was not the door of an ordinary vehicle, but rather the armor plate on the chest of some giant beast.

Ultimately, he came to a conclusion—two meters.

Upon hearing this conclusion, Darkus almost laughed in exasperation. He rolled his eyes, his laughter tinged with helplessness.

"The car door isn't as wide or thick as you think. What's the point of making it so thick? To block arrows? It's only about 1.8 meters wide at most."

After he finished speaking, he pointed to the street.

“It should be widened,” Finnubal chimed in, glancing across the street before him and nodding in agreement. At 1.8 meters wide, the streets of Lorthern were indeed far too narrow, barely wide enough for two vehicles to pass each other.

Not to mention that if there is a flow of vehicles, pedestrians, trucks, or cyclists, it will inevitably be completely paralyzed.

“Things aren’t as simple as you think.” Darkus’s tone suddenly changed, taking on a tone that was half-teasing, half-serious, and seemingly concealing a mystery. “Have you forgotten what I told you back in Nagarond?” He drew out the syllables like a spell, with a mysterious rhythm, “Labor Front, Strength from Happiness, National Labor Corps…”

The voice carried a certain symbolism, as if summoning an order yet to be born.

Finnubart's lips twitched slightly as he listened, and after a moment he continued, imitating Dakota's chanting style.

"Highways, railway lines, promotion of medical insurance, universal education, labor rights, promotion of guilds, wage increases, promotion of class harmony, fireside chats, and advocacy for dialogue to solve social problems!"

He hadn't forgotten a single one of those words or phrases.

Every word was etched into my mind, like some kind of prophecy, or like some kind of political program that was brewing.

Jerian listened, completely bewildered by the mysterious interplay between the two. Although it was the first time he had heard his father mention it, he could vaguely sense that behind those seemingly casual words lay a kind of structural ambition, an unimaginable grand blueprint.

There is no left or right, because there is never a left or right in court politics—there is only the distribution of interests and the extension of authority.

But authoritarianism exists, corporations exist, ethnic groups exist, and classes exist.

However, some of these terms have not yet appeared, while others remain in the realm of theory.

However, this did not stop Darkus from completely stripping those two of their jobs.

He's rewriting the script in his own way.

“In my view, vehicles are daily necessities, consumables, not luxuries that only a few can afford,” Darkus continued, his expression resolute and his voice slightly raised. “Before long, every household will have one, or even more. Think about it, how will the transportation problem be solved then?”

As he spoke, he gave a knowing smile, his eyes gleaming with cunning.

The laugh was somewhat like a test, or a probing question; he wanted to know how far Finnubar's mind could go.

“It can’t be solved.” Finnubar shook his head, his tone curt.

However, before he could finish speaking, he seemed to be inspired by something else. The image of the two-wheeled vehicles he had seen in Nagarus flashed through his mind; those vehicles had license plates on the front and back. He suddenly had a flash of inspiration and looked up to say...

"Limited license plate restrictions?"

"What the hell is this license plate restriction?!" Darkus burst into laughter, his voice echoing through the narrow streets.

Finnubar laughed too, his laughter tinged with self-deprecation and a kind of helpless cheerfulness.

He himself admitted that the idea wasn't very good. He could even imagine the future scenario: if someone actually proposed a vehicle restriction plan, that person would be condemned mercilessly. Having a means of transportation but not being able to use it, only to have it sit at home and mold, that feeling would be absolutely awful.

"How will you restrict it? Odd/even license plates? Or even prohibit entry into certain areas? Forcing people to take detours?" Darkus continued to laugh, shaking his head and waving his hands, looking like he was laughing at the reality.

Finnubar laughed even louder, so hard he couldn't straighten up, and the wind whipped the edge of his cloak around, making it seem as if the whole city was trembling slightly with them.

At that moment, they seemed like two prophets predicting the future, or two madmen laughing and joking on the edge of an era.

The dawn sunlight shone on their shoulders, illuminating their casual conversation, and the words, concepts, and humorous ideas they discussed would one day, in a stunning way, become reality!
As they walked, Dakous chatted idly with Finnubar.

He knew Finnubal was under immense pressure, a tremendous pressure. That invisible, intangible pressure, surging up like a tidal wave from the soles of his feet, was slowly dragging Finnubal to the brink of collapse. After all, the upcoming battle was taking place in Lorthorn, right on his doorstep. That sense of destiny pressing in from all sides made even breathing heavy.

Although Finnubar seemed to have reached the point of being utterly indifferent, with a tone of "what's the use of trying" and an air of recklessness, Darkus knew very well that it was merely a self-defense mechanism before collapse.

That kind of laughter is more of a tired disguise, a self-suggestion before reason crumbles.

He didn't want anything to happen to Finnubar, not now, and even less so later. The fragile balance he had built would collapse, and that would be worse than the defeat of any battle.

Political defeat is often more devastating than military defeat.

So he chose to treat it in a way he was familiar with, knowing there were only two solutions—talk therapy and medication.

Alcohol is absolutely forbidden. Alcohol dependence is the most despicable way to self-destruct; once you become addicted, you are completely ruined.

He knew a bit about psychology, so he chose talk therapy. His gentle, subtle, and slightly teasing tone gave Finnubar the illusion that he was still being listened to.

There is actually another treatment, a very practical one, but it will only take effect after today has passed.

Just like getting rich can cure depression...

However, after only a few words, Finnubar steered the conversation back to the topic.

He was always like that; even if Darkus deliberately steered the conversation elsewhere, he would still be pulled back to the center of the same vortex as if by some invisible magnetic force.

After going around in circles, he has returned to today.

“This might be the best solution, isn’t it?” After saying that, Darkus added casually, “We might save some money? Is this what you call shifting the blame?”

The tone was casual, as if he were simply crossing an unnecessary expense off the books, but the underlying coldness made the air tense slightly.

At first, Finnubal didn't react and was stunned for a moment.

After he came to his senses, he let out that speechless, even self-deprecating laugh, dry and hollow, like the wind blowing through an abandoned temple.

Just as he was about to say something more, they arrived at their destination. (End of Chapter)