Reborn As Noble-Chapter 492: Steel and Stone ( 491 )

Chapter 492: Steel and Stone ( 491 )

Dwarven Kingdom.

Inside the fortified stone walls of the palace, Chieftain Gumarak stood at the center of the war room.

The heavy air was thick with tension.

He stared intently at the war map spread across the massive table. Red markers indicated enemy advances.

Another stronghold had fallen.

Captured by the Human Kingdom’s forces.

Gumarak clenched his fists briefly behind his back.

The human wyvern units were wreaking havoc across the battlefield. Their swift aerial assaults overwhelmed defenses, and the Dwarves’ hawk riders—though skilled—were fewer and slower.

They had shot down several wyverns.

But the toll had been high.

Much too high.

He turned sharply toward one of his generals.

“Any news about recruiting new giant hawk riders?”

The general bowed slightly.

“We’re still training another thirty recruits, sire. But… giant hawks are not easy to tame.”

Gumarak grunted, unimpressed.

Of course they weren’t. Nothing worthwhile ever was.

He jabbed a finger at the map, where the air assault lines were marked.

“Status on our efforts to counter these air attacks?”

A different officer responded.

“We’ve deployed the newly built magic ballistae… but they’re not fast enough to hit the human wyverns. Their speed surpasses our targeting.”

Gumarak growled low, voice dark.

“Speed, precision… It’s a game we can’t afford to lose.”

He stood silently, arms crossed, eyes sharp as he studied the war map.

His gaze shifted to the stronghold defending the Halfling front.

For now, their forces held their ground against the Halfling assault.

But how long they could maintain it… no one knew.

They were taking hits from both sides—the Humans from the east, the Halflings from the west.

Pressure was mounting relentlessly.

Another general stepped forward, voice strained.

“Our food supplies are running out, Chieftain.”

Gumarak’s eyes narrowed.

“We cannot ration anymore,” the general continued. “Reserves are nearly exhausted. If this keeps up… morale will shatter before the walls do.”

Gumarak tapped the table once, sharply.

“Is there any way to secure additional supplies from the Beastkin or the Elven borders?”

A scout bowed low, face grim.

“I’m sorry, Lord. Even our messengers… did not return.”

The room fell into heavy silence.

“Most of the major roads leading to the Beastkin and Elven territories have been captured,” the scout added quietly. “Travel is nearly impossible.”

Gumarak exhaled heavily through his nose, fists clenched.

Another officer stepped forward, face pale.

“And… our latest reports say…”

He hesitated, voice almost a whisper.

“What is it?” Gumarak’s voice rumbled.

“It appears the Amazarak Kingdom has already fallen.”

A deafening silence filled the war room.

Gumarak’s expression darkened as he pointed decisively at several locations on the war map.

“Our stronghold here… here… and here,” he said grimly, stabbing each point with deliberate, sharp movements. “Are now under heavy attack from both sides.”

An officer stepped forward, clutching a fresh report.

“Our commanders in those areas have sent urgent requests,” he reported. “They need more ore, spare weapons, armor, and reinforcements of healer units to tend the wounded.”

Gumarak clenched his jaw tight.

“Send what we can,” he said softly. “Send the food too… even if it’s little.”

He paused, eyes sweeping across the exhausted faces of his generals and officers.

“Let’s hope a miracle turns this around.”

He exhaled a heavy breath.

“If not…” his voice grew solemn. “I am sorry, everyone. For dragging you all into this war.”

A long silence settled over the room.

Then, one of his senior generals stepped forward and slammed his fist against his chest.

“Don’t say that, Chieftain!”

Several others echoed his stance with similar gestures of loyalty.

“It’s not your fault, nor ours! We didn’t provoke anyone!”

“They’re the ones who attacked us first!”

A murmur of agreement rippled throughout.

Gumarak slowly lifted his head, a shadow flickering across his face.

“If I hadn’t claimed the celestial… this wouldn’t have happened.”

One of his generals moved forward confidently.

“No, Chieftain! You claimed it so no one else would! To protect our people!”

Gumarak clenched his fists tighter.

“But still…”

Another officer, older and battle-scarred, shook his head solemnly.

“No, Chieftain. It’s not our fault.”

He looked around at the others.

“It’s the Humans. It’s the Halflings. They’re the ones who started this.”

“We were always a peaceful nation,” he continued. “We never provoked anyone. We never seized land. We stayed on our own.”

More voices joined in, unwavering.

“And we will stand now.”

“No matter what comes.”

“We will fight for our homeland.”

Gumarak closed his eyes briefly.

“Send the new recruits to assist in all strongholds,” Gumarak commanded, pointing again at the war map and tapping several key defensive lines.

“Prioritize reinforcing our ranged units.”

The officers quickly nodded, jotting down notes with urgency.

“Tell our blacksmiths to mass-produce magic crossbows. Reinforce the shields too— I don’t care if they have to work day and night.”

Another general stepped forward.

“Understood, Chieftain.”

Gumarak exhaled quietly, his mind racing through the reports.

“As for food…” he paused thoughtfully. “Continue sending whatever supplies we can to our strongholds. We can’t rely on outside help. Not a single messenger has made it through.”

A heavy silence settled over the war room again.

Gumarak turned to his logistics officer.

“How many reserve troops do we have right now?”

The officer flipped through his scrolls rapidly.

“Less than 300,000, Chieftain.”

Gumarak’s expression tightened slightly.

“…And the new recruits?”

“We’ve managed to recruit about 50,000 civilians—mostly farmers and miners. They’re still in basic training.”

He paused, contemplating.

“How are our farms doing?”

The officer responded immediately.

“They’re doing their best to secure food. Many workers who normally focus on mining or craftsmanship have been reassigned to farming, on order.”

Gumarak nodded slowly.

“Good. Allow our people to cultivate any available land—fields, open land, even near the city walls if necessary. Prioritize crops that can be harvested quickly.”

“As you command, Chieftain.”

“General.”

“Yes, Chieftain?”

Gumarak fixed him with a sharp look.

“We should form special units to harass the enemy camps—no more than fifty soldiers per unit, riding Battle Wolves.”

He leaned forward over the map.

“Focus on hit-and-run tactics: attack supply lines, disrupt camps, force them to chase shadows.”

The general nodded quickly.

“Understood, Chieftain. I’ve read the report… about how Armand used Pekkos before—when the noble coalition tried to invade.”

Gumarak nodded once.

“They’re fast, agile—perfect for raiding.”

The general hesitated.

“But, Chieftain… our Battle Wolves are agile, but not as fast as a Pekko.”

Gumarak grunted.

“Better than horses—and tough enough to tear through enemy lines.”

The general saluted sharply.

“I’ll form the units immediately.”

“Good,” Gumarak said, tapping the map.

“Split them into six to seven teams, each with thirty to fifty riders. Equip them with light crossbows, javelins, and short swords for melee if needed. Keep armor minimal—speed is key.”

“As you command, Chieftain!”

The officers moved swiftly to execute the orders.

Even outnumbered, the Dwarves would make the enemy bleed for every inch they took.

( End Of Chapter )

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