Titan King: Ascension of the Giant - Chapter 1003: Only the wise and good wine are never failed by time

Chapter 1003: Only the wise and good wine are never failed by time

Aldous finished his wine and delivered another one of his cryptic, veiled comments.

Beside him, Delilah, the stoneheart horde’s Elder of Stewardship, could only stare at the ogre with wide, amazed eyes. This is one of My Lord’s friends? He’s terrifyingly brilliant.

The dwarf, Harbek, having finally grasped the full meaning of Aldous’s words, fell into a deep, contemplative silence. The ogre’s strange intellect was irrelevant. All that mattered was the fate of the dwarven race.

And so, the banquet settled into a peculiar quiet. Delilah, with a radiant and charming smile, continued to play the perfect hostess. Aldous cradled his crystal glass as if it were a beloved toy, or a woman. And Harbek sat with his brow furrowed in thought.

After a long time, the dwarf finally stirred. He glanced once at Aldous, then stood and gave Delilah a formal bow.

“Your Excellency,” he said, his voice now firm with resolve. “Harbek is at your complete disposal. I will assist you in the summit and do whatever is necessary to secure the greatest possible benefits for our stoneheart horde. Your command is my command.”

Delilah rose and personally helped him to his feet. She could not treat a formal pledge from a Warden lightly. “It is all for the dwarven race, Lord Warden,” she said softly. “And for our stoneheart horde.”

“I understand,” Harbek replied. As he straightened up, a new light shone in his eyes—a mixture of awe and sincere commitment. This was the attitude of someone ready to get things done. With the future of his people on the line, he was now giving the mission his absolute focus. He would follow Delilah’s lead without question.

“Fools have already died on the battlefield,” Aldous mused into his empty glass, seemingly to no one. “Only the wise and good wine are never failed by time.”

…..

Three days later, Delilah—the woman in whom Harbek and the entire dwarven race had placed their hopes—was replaced by Sylvana. It was a development Harbek had not seen coming. Delilah was already on her flying mount, speeding back the way she came.

Silverwood Realm. The Stillness.

“Any regrets?”

Orion and Caesar stood at the base of a newly erected arrow tower, gazing up at its impressive height. From this angle, it seemed to pierce the clouds, a majestic and intimidating sight.

Orion had tasked Caesar with its construction, then linked it to the necropolis, reinforcing the entire structure with necromantic power—a miraculous transformation that had occurred right before Caesar’s eyes. Orion was teasing him, asking if he regretted selling him the blueprints for so many of these unique buildings back in the day.

Caesar tore his gaze away from the tower. His eyes, bright and focused, shone with a raw curiosity for these wonders and a deep-seated desire to explore the unknown. He shook his head, not answering the question directly. Instead, he told a short story.

“If I were dying of thirst in a desert,” he said, his voice calm, “and in front of me was a single bottle of water and a pile of money that could buy all the water in the world, I would choose the bottle of water without a second thought. The water would save my life. The money would just make me a wealthy corpse.”

The parable was answer enough. Orion’s face remained impassive, betraying no emotion. But his next words were a clear reward, a piece of vital intelligence meant just for Caesar.

“The tower’s attack range is five hundred yards. As a lord, you can set its targeting parameters. If you don’t, it will automatically engage any hostile presence that approaches.” He let the information sink in. “With enough of these, we have an impregnable fortress.” For any lord in the early stages of building a territory, a defense like this was enough to make an invading force tremble in fear.

With these special buildings, the city Caesar already possessed back in his own world could become a true, defensible base of operations, as long as he wasn’t facing ridiculously overwhelming numbers. It was the kind of crucial tactical information he never would have learned without Orion.

“Thank you for the guidance, Big Boss,” Caesar said with a respectful nod, understanding the value of the gift he’d just been given.

Orion accepted the thanks and led Caesar toward the tower. “The Forest of Nature lacks any large mountain ranges, so we’re short on stone. A proper wall is out of the question for now. But we have an endless supply of massive trees. They’ll be enough for a temporary palisade.”

As they walked, Orion continued the lesson in fortification. “Have your men set up barricades and traps at all crossroads. Do you know what a cheval de frise is?”

Caesar nodded. He might not know how to build them, but he knew of them.

“You can just call them spiked barricades,” Orion clarified. “Bind logs together in an ‘X’ pattern with thick vines, then sharpen the ends. It’s a simple but effective defense. Use the arrow towers as anchor points, and build a line of these barricades anywhere from five to a hundred yards outside the main wall. It’ll break up enemy charges and buy time for the defenders on the palisade.”

Orion found himself getting into it, explaining the simple but effective defensive measures as they inspected the perimeter. In truth, against thick-hided beasts or massive creatures, these wooden spikes wouldn’t do much. And against anything with magical abilities, they were little more than decorations.

But their real value, for now, was psychological. For the other races who would eventually settle in The Stillness, these visible, tangible defenses, backed by a strong army, would provide a crucial sense of security and confidence.

And practically speaking, the barricades would still be useful for Caesar’s Shield Warriors. Any enemy that made it through would have lost its momentum, lessening the pressure on the shield wall.

Furthermore, Orion had other tricks up his sleeve. The stoneheart horde had an alchemical ointment, rendered from animal fat and blood, that could drastically increase the durability of wood. And he suspected the Wood Elves, as a race close to nature, had their own magic for strengthening wood.

What Caesar and his men were building was far from pointless. Besides, the Shield Warriors were an elite force compared to the disposable skeletons and Plague-thralls. Their place was as a steadfast shield wall, not wasted on dangerous clearing missions.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by AiKurou