Chapter 242: Covenant and Elves

"They actually have gods too?" Sinuoli scrutinized the Pygmies. Although he himself was not tall at the moment, he did not spare his malice toward these guys who were equally short but dressed even more shabbily.

Seeming to recognize who was in charge, the Pygmies started jabbering again. Brian Bronzebeard was too lazy to bother translating word for word and communicated with them directly.

"Master Sinuoli, these fellows say they live at the foot of the mountains, but their original dwelling place has been occupied by spiders and Greenskins for years. They revere you greatly as the warrior who slew the spider Demigod, and they hope you will allow them to utilize the resources on the mountain."

Brian was truly a Dwarf who had authored several books; his ability to grasp the main points and his power of expression were outstanding, not just among Dwarfs, but perhaps even among Elves.

"Ask them how many people there are in total!" Sinuoli tugged at his beard. He was currently lacking population, and since there were only so many Dwarfs, having locals as a supplement was a good thing, provided these Pygmies could keep themselves in check.

"They say there is one town and seven or eight villages, about ten thousand people," Brian reported.

"That should be fine. Looking at these guys' gear, they don't seem very capable of fighting." Sinuoli nodded, looking at the melee weapons made of bone, wood, and stone, and the crude blowpipes carried by these Pygmies.

Those sent out to scout would never be the old, weak, sick, or disabled; if they weren't the most elite, they had to be secondary elite armed forces, or else they would just be adding to the spiders' menu.

"Tell them that wanting to use the mountain's resources is fine, but they have to prove they are qualified to use them. Leave those Greenskins whose spines we broke for them to handle. If they can finish them off—er, never mind, if they can keep them from interfering with our Expeditionary Force, then I agree."

Sinuoli thought for a moment and lowered his requirements. These Pygmies likely lacked strong combat power, but if they were pushed to the brink and joined the Greenskins to attack him, it would be a nuisance at the very least.

After another round of muttering, Brian indicated they required a written commitment. Sinuoli naturally had no objections. He took out a Rune contract, scribbled on it, and then hesitated at the final signature.

"Forget it, let it be." He wrote down the title "Lord of the Southern World's Edge Mountains." By convention, whoever recaptured a lost fortress that no clansman of sufficient status had a strong claim to, it belonged to them.

Furthermore, the High King Thorgrim, who approved of the current world, was his father, and the Expeditionary Force, which claimed to be under the oracle of the Ancestor Goddess, had a strong claim to begin with.

After handing the treaty, stamped with his own fingerprint, to the Pygmies, Sinuoli watched their retreating figures and prayed silently in his heart. Regarding the possible pursuit by the Greenskins, he had only one strategy in mind: the Reduction of Cooking Stoves.

But even the most brilliant strategy required the opponent to cooperate to be effective. Sinuoli sincerely doubted whether the leading Savage Orc Shaman had the keen observational ability of Pang Juan.

The Dwarf army continued to set out. Originally, Sinuoli had wanted to wait for the true decision-makers of the Pygmy tribe to arrive and discuss things before leaving, but considering it would take many days to go back and forth, and they might still need to deliberate over there, he did not know when they would arrive.

Although his side had hunting in the jungle to supplement their food, the ale that the Dwarfs regarded as life was always running lower. Cutting the ale supply had caused some slight complaints among his subordinates, so Sinuoli decided to head to the final destination as soon as possible.

The army continued to advance across the Lost Plateau. Facing this boundless plateau without landmarks was undoubtedly a huge drain on mental strength. For a normal small-scale expedition, this was a more terrifying danger than a large group of enemies.

Facing enemies, they could take a detour to avoid them or attempt a quick breakthrough, but facing the trials of nature, a small number of people would bear greater pressure, and without reference points, it was not easy for them to even determine which direction to go.

The most successful expeditions in thousands of years had all been forced to turn back after trekking on this plateau for several days for various reasons, but Sinuoli was different from his predecessors.

He had the strategic map in his mind to control the general direction, and he had Knights and Helicopters to explore the path ahead. Large wild animals encountered along the way were nothing more than extra meals for such an army; as long as the morale of the army did not break, it could be said that nothing could stop him.

"Giant Eagles, there are Giant Eagles in the sky!" Ten days later, when Sinuoli was less than one hundred kilometers from the Gaoyuanbao on the strategic map, Andemuge came in to report.

"Isn't it normal to have Giant Eagles on the plateau?" Sinuoli sat on the back of a Rock Sheep and frowned. The entire Expeditionary Force was currently stretched very thin; they were in a state of being completely isolated and deep in enemy territory, and there was not as much game on the plateau as in the forest.

"They shouldn't be wild; they have the insignia of the pointy-ears on them!" Andemuge held up his telescope.

"How is that possible!"

"What nonsense are you talking about, Little Beard!"

"At your age, I'm afraid you heard the term 'pointy-ears' in a bedtime story, didn't you?"

The surrounding clansmen started shouting. This place didn't even have the Qunshan themselves, so how could there be High Elves? They should all be singing, dancing, and composing poetry on Aosuan.

"Investigate carefully!" Sinuoli's furrowed brow twitched. He vaguely remembered that there was a High Elf stronghold in the Southlands, but after all, it had been a few years since he transmigrated, and his impression was not that clear.

"Liming Yaosai!" Altman turned out from the side.

"It is at this location, near the southern end of the Southlands. It is a stronghold of the pointy-ears. The sailors call it Sun Island; it seems to be because the time they see the sun every day is exceptionally long!"

Sinuoli narrowed his eyes. This world was also round, so there was no problem with longer daylight hours in high-latitude regions.

"When was this fortress built? For what reason? To plot against our ancestral land?" Sinuoli had been a bit manic these days. The warning from the phantom of the Old Ones had put pressure on him; the Chaos Four Gods would not sit idly by and watch him develop slowly.

"As far as I know, Liming Yaosai was built by the ninth Phoenix King, Movar the Rash, in the eighty-second year of his reign, over a thousand years ago," Brian Bronzebeard said loudly.

"How do you know that so clearly?" The young Altman was startled.

"You must learn to respect the beard, little one. I have been to Lothern, and this is in my second book, 'Mysterious Lands'. You should perhaps go and read it!" Brian stroked his bronze-colored beard and smiled triumphantly.

"Lothern, the Sea Guard there are quite famous!" Sinuoli muttered. That was a standing army of the High Elves, armed with spears, shields, and bows.

"You are truly as learned as the rumors say!" Brian praised.