Chapter 117 (From engineer to Conqueror)

Brother Baromir, a beast-man priest with a robust appearance and a face that resembled a boar, sat in a thick wooden chair by his fireplace. The fire softly illuminated the room, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls and warming the space with a cozy heat. In his hands, he held a letter written by Miguel himself, the young king of Drakmoor.

Baromir remembered his last interaction with Miguel well. Not long ago, the human had come seeking food assistance for his people, respectfully and with a sincerity that Baromir rarely saw among humans. The situation was delicate, and Miguel hadn’t asked for help out of arrogance or entitlement but from a genuine sense of responsibility. The people of Drakmoor needed food to survive the winter, and as an act of trust, the leaders of the beast-men had decided to help Miguel and his kingdom. He displayed a good heart, a quality that impressed Baromir and led him to accept the alliance.

But this letter was something different. Baromir examined the lines with growing curiosity, scratching his snout as he read. Miguel was asking for his help to organize an entourage to the dwarf kingdom, a set of islands south of the continent that humans knew little about. In the letter, Miguel acknowledged that the southern coast was territory controlled by the beast-men and knew that the dwarves had remained isolated, distancing themselves from humans for centuries. Many believed the dwarves were just a legend, but Baromir knew well that the dwarf kingdom was very real. They maintained a relationship of mutual respect and exchange with the beast-men, a bond of trust built over generations.

Miguel was proposing something bold. He wanted to ask the dwarves for help in building equipment and developing new technologies that could transform metalworking and weapon production in Drakmoor. In the letter, Miguel detailed the weapons and technologies he had developed and made it clear he was willing to share these advancements with the dwarves in exchange for assistance. Baromir, who knew the nature of the dwarves well, found this proposal at least intriguing. The dwarves were known for their unparalleled skill as blacksmiths and craftsmen, and their appreciation for technological innovations and quality craftsmanship was unmatched. A proposal of this kind, coming from a human, would carry significant weight for them.

Furthermore, Baromir also understood the urgency of the situation. Miguel had been transparent about the limitations of his kingdom. Although he had managed to provide the beast-men with firearm technology, producing these weapons on a large scale was complex and costly. Each piece required precision and resources that Drakmoor still lacked in abundance, and the cost of bullets and gunpowder made the process even more expensive. But with the help of the dwarves, Miguel believed they could develop solutions for mass production, saving time and increasing the effectiveness of Drakmoor’s forces.

This possibility excited Baromir. He knew that, at the current pace, Drakmoor’s forces and those of the beast-men would be at a great disadvantage when the human kingdoms decided to exploit the weakness that was still forming among the allied troops. The coalition of human kingdoms was only waiting for the right moment to attack, and if Drakmoor and the beast-men were not prepared, the risk of defeat would be imminent.

After reflecting on all of this, Baromir made his decision. He set the letter aside and took up a quill and ink. He needed to respond to Miguel as soon as possible. In the letter, he wrote that he agreed with the plan and that Miguel could head to the city where they first met. He would be waiting there, with the entourage prepared to depart. Additionally, Baromir promised a ship, ready for the journey south, and made it clear he would take care of the preparations to ensure the mission was safe and effective.

When he finished the letter, Baromir reread what he had written, feeling satisfied. He knew this alliance could be a turning point in the war, and Miguel’s determination was an essential factor for success. He sealed the letter and called a trusted messenger, a young, agile, and silent wolf, instructing him to deliver the response to Drakmoor as quickly as possible.

As the messenger disappeared into the night, Baromir returned to his seat by the fireplace, his thoughts swirling around what lay ahead.


---

Miguel was in his office, where the soft moonlight filtered through the window, illuminating every corner with a silvery glow. Winter had ended a few weeks ago, and the weather was milder, more welcoming. The night wind blew gently through the cracks in the window, bringing with it the fresh air and the scent of spring beginning to awaken. In front of Miguel stood a piano. He observed the instrument, his fingers slightly trembling as he lightly touched the keys, as if testing their response, as if searching for a connection before any note was played.

Miguel sat on the bench calmly and took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. In his mind, he brought forth the sounds of a piece from his old world, a melody that had always accompanied him, full of mystery and melancholy: the Moonlight Sonata. He could hear the music within himself, a reminder of who he was before finding himself in this world, in this body. Miguel began to play the first notes, his touch delicate and careful, as if the keys were part of him.

The notes filled the air, echoing softly through the office. Each key he pressed produced a deep, melancholic sound, as if he were silently confiding in the music. As his fingers glided over the keys, Miguel seemed to let flow the sadness and fear he kept inside. He played slowly, trying to hear not just the melody but also what his soul wanted to say. The piano, as if understanding his pain, responded softly yet intensely, and Miguel felt as if he were conversing with the instrument, baring his soul.

The melody of the Moonlight Sonata drifted through the mansion’s halls, reaching every corner, every wall. The staff, who until then had gone about their daily tasks, paused in their work, drawn to the music that filled the silence. It was a piece that touched the heart of anyone who heard it, something rare in that mansion. Although Miguel was the leader of Drakmoor, he rarely allowed himself to show any kind of vulnerability. But there, alone with his piano and his thoughts, he revealed a side no one saw.

One by one, the staff stopped in the hall or near the doors, listening to the distant, sorrowful melody spreading through the space. The intensity of that music, though calm, seemed to cradle the sorrow of a man in conflict, someone who did not truly belong to this place, this life. Miguel wanted to be just a normal person. He didn’t want to be king, didn’t want to lead a war, didn’t want to carry the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders. He just wanted to live in peace. And it was this feeling, this melancholy, that flowed through his hands and was translated into the piano keys.

As he played, the office door opened silently. Amelia entered, drawn by the music she had never heard before. She had never been a fan of music, and to her, melodies were just sounds without much meaning. But something in that song made her pause, the power of the melody revealing a sadness she had never imagined seeing in Miguel. Amelia stood in silence, watching him play, and his expression of concentration surprised her.

Amelia knew she had never been a good sister to Miguel. The truth was, she had always seen him as a bastard, someone inferior who barely deserved the title he carried. Throughout her life, she had looked down on him, believing herself superior as the legitimate daughter of the former duke. However, at that moment, as Miguel played that music that sounded so honest and sorrowful, Amelia realized he was the most honorable of all the duke’s children. Among them all, he was the only one who truly carried the weight of the title and the kingdom’s burden with dignity.

The music continued, each note reverberating with the lament of a man who bore within him the weight of a world that was not his own. Miguel did not notice his sister’s presence, as he was entirely immersed in the music, allowing himself to touch a bit more of the pain he hid with each chord. Amelia stood where she was, listening to Miguel play. She knew she would never have understood that music before, but now, she could feel the sadness behind each note. It was a song of loneliness and loss, something she had never seen in Miguel but now recognized as part of him.

And so she remained there, listening to her brother play, feeling for the first time the weight of what it meant to be Miguel, and, at the same time, realizing that he was, in fact, the only hope left for Drakmoor, and, no less importantly... for herself.

---

Amélia stood outside the mansion, watching attentively as the group of men on horseback and two wagons loaded with supplies prepared to depart. Miguel’s entourage was ready to set off. She knew her brother was heading to the land of the beastmen, where he would join a mixed convoy to travel together to the legendary dwarf kingdom. The dwarves — the very idea still sounded like a distant legend to her, something she’d always heard in old tales but now took on a new seriousness. The thought of an isolated dwarf kingdom on the southern islands, existing since ancient times and separate from humans, seemed both fascinating and improbable.

Miguel approached, and before he could say anything, he hugged her. Surprised, Amélia felt a mixture of comfort and warmth she didn’t expect. She had never liked hugs; she found them unnecessary and too sentimental. But with Miguel, that gesture had become its own language — he didn’t need to speak for her to know he trusted her. Just as she felt with John, the man for whom she had true feelings and to whom she entrusted her deepest thoughts.

Miguel stepped back slightly and looked at her with a calm smile. "Take good care of Drakmoor, Amélia. I trust you to lead while I’m away."

Amélia responded with a playful expression, trying to hide any hint of worry. "Don’t worry, little brother. I’ll do a great job while you play at exploring lost kingdoms."

Miguel laughed with her, then took one last look around. The men and supplies were ready for the journey. He then turned, mounted his horse, and firmly took the reins. Beside him, on another horse, was Alistair, the mage whom Miguel had entrusted to accompany him. In recent days, he had told Amélia about the mage and his actions, highlighting Alistair’s vital role in containing the mana disease. Alistair had been essential to Drakmoor and the neighboring baronies, and she felt grateful to have someone so capable within Miguel's circle of allies.

She watched as the convoy, now fully mounted, began to set off. Miguel looked at Amélia one last time and smiled before giving a brief wave. The group started moving, the horses' hooves striking the stone road, mixed with the noise of the heavy wagons rolling slowly, loaded with essential supplies for the long journey.

Amélia stood still, watching Miguel’s convoy fade into the distance, observing as the group disappeared through the mansion gates and followed the road through Drakmoor’s center towards the main city gate. It was a grand and risky mission, but she believed that if anyone could succeed in such an endeavor, it was Miguel.

She sighed, feeling a pang of apprehension but also pride. Miguel was determined to do whatever was necessary for Drakmoor’s future, and now he trusted her to keep everything in order. Amélia turned and re-entered the mansion, her gaze steady and her mind already focused on the work awaiting her. There was much to do.