When Esrael and Gilroy were desperately trying to assemble the volunteer corps to defend Eldoras, the dragon was in the half-way to the dwarven kingdom. It was unclear why he decided to visit them first: these beardy miners hated dragons in their heart of hearts, because ruthless actions of the last, such as frequent attacks on golden mines, capturing cities and shafts made a serious impact on the dwarven economy, which was based mostly on gold- and gem-retrieving. The dragon was pretty aware of what could dwarves have done with him, so he decided to choose the appearance of human ambassador.
At last, after several hours of exhausting flight, our hero finally reached the glorious domain of dwarves, located in the powerful mountain ranges of Albotrine. The dwarven realm was a huge city-state, — Trigaron — which was the center of all civilization's mining industry. It was a large warehouse for all minerals, coal, ore and other soil resources, streaming through tunnels from every mining settlements of Uniearth. This city was famous for its industrial factories and forgeries, specialized in making the toughest armor above all other types. No ordinary sword nor arrow could penetrate it. Dwarven weaponry could slice a stone or a piece of metal with a single strike, like a knife going through butter. But the gem of their collection was, of course, steam-tanks and fire-arms, which made dwarven civilization most technologically developed race of Uniearth. Many thought that beardy-heads were pathetic warriors and could only stay in their caves and retrieve ore. But, fortunately for dwarves, their battle glory showed the opposite: soon their policy gained the precious title of "indestructible".
Having passed the thick cloudy screen, the dragon landed right in front of the entrance and hid behind a small cliff. Our hero was lucky: he wasn't spotted by the guard, otherwise, in a couple of hours his head would have been hanging in the wide war-trophy hall of dwarven war history. He took the wisest decision he could possibly make: dragon turned into his human form and, wearing an ambassador's disguise, headed towards the city. First of all, he was to pass its enormous gates. They were truly tremendous and radiated trembling power; this fortification object was heavily guarded by hundreds of experienced soldiers, armed with muskets beautifully festooned with golden patterns. These gates stood against battering rams, catapults and blazing fire countless times. And countless times those courageous warriors with muskets made hoards of enemies flee from powerful mountain ranges forget about Trigaron forever.
However, guardsmen didn't do any harm to peaceful wanderers and were always happy to see them, because often they appeared as merchants, medicasters and other representatives of wandering breeds, who brought useful goods with them. It seemed strange that nobody wanted to check and ask them, and that's where our hero got lucky: the entrance was crowded that day, so the guard could not possibly check everyone. The dragon squeezed through the swarm of people and finally entered the policy. He was imminently startled at its glory and colossal sizes: an infinite amount of stone buildings, ranging from honorable warriors' manors to little merchants' stalls, lengthened on hundreds of kilometers into the deep, flattering with the dim light of torches and special glowing crystals. Life was similar to a large boiling geyser. Nobody was twiddling their thumbs: someone was working in the mines, someone was forging, making steel for muskets and axes, others were building houses, chieftains led accurate platoons through tunnels, someone followed the course of steam tanks' construction. Suddenly a giant palace, which towered above other tiny buildings, caught dragon's eye. That was the place he was looking for. He knew that it would be a complete failure to get inside through the main entrance, so the second, sillier though came to his mind — making sup under the ground. "That was the dumbest idea to ever come to my head",—our hero thought.
He had no other option than going straight through of glassless windows in the palace, the one on the eastern side. Luckily for him, dwarves never used glass: they considered it unpractical. Having moved into the shadow of a lonely house, in order not to catch unnecessary attention, the dragon revealed his true appearance, waved wide wings and rapidly headed towards dungeon's window he had aimed at. Meters went by rapidly, and in a couple of seconds, scaly messenger was inside the palace's hall. But what should he do next? The level was crowded with guards armed with muskets, which definitely would penetrate his scale. There was no time to think everything over, so the dragon decided to crowd his luck and go straight through the maze of dimly-lighted corridors. He didn't bump into any patrol, which seemed rather odd. Only at the very entrance to the king's hall, he spotted two heavily armed guards: double-edged axes, pistols on the leather belts, heavy silver chain-mails, massive helmets — each part of their shining body defense seemed very reliable and, of course, pretty tough to cope with.
"C'mon... What should I do? Oh my, oh my..."—many thoughts were chaotically sieving the dragon's brains.
Suddenly, a precious idea came to his mind... Guardsmen were puzzled to see a handsome young man with shining ultramarine-colored eyes. They instantly took out their barrels and pointed them on his chest. One if them, giving our hero a distrustful gaze, roughly asked:
—What are you doing here, human scumbag? How dare you to get into His Majesty's apartments?
—I'm Pendragon's ambassador,—the dragon decently replied.—I have a very important message for your king.
—His Majesty Ulter the IV ordered not to let anyone inside,—guardsman, pointing a barrel at dragon's face, said.—Get lost until I make a hole in your dumb head!
—Your will is a king's will,—the dragon stepped aside.—But it doesn't mean I will obey this will.
At that moment guards regretted of not letting dragon inside...Our hero came up to the unconscious dwarves and whispered:
—You gave me no other option. I strongly advise you to be more polite with guests next time. And if there was someone less mannered than me?—the dragon held on for a second.—Well, I'm not the one to talk about manners right now, am I?
Having put himself together, he turned back into his human form and pushed big metal hall gates. A magnificent view of gorgeous throne hall revealed before him instantly: a large room, surrounded by twelve colossal statues of the great monarchs of the dwarven realm. Here's the monument of Tulrik the Fourth the Great — the best warlord and the honoured defender of Trigaron; on the left the statue of Faltire the Third the Wisest, great politician and diplomate, was standing; but the highest and most admirable one was the monument of Nordrin the First the Uniter, who was holding a great sword Vartire. He was the one who put all the dwarven policies together during bloody feudal fragmentation. Dragon wandered through the hall with his mouth wide-open, meticulously examining every tremendous monument, which honoring great past of dwarves. He felt like a tiny bug among such enormous colossi of admirable kings of the past. He was dying to have a look at the last representative of such grand dynasty — Ulter the Fourth — in order to ask for help in the upcoming war. But when he finally reached the throne, he couldn't believe his eyes: the monarch wasn't in the hall. Neither servants nor the ministers were present. The royal palace was empty. —Is anybody here?—the dragon asked.—Your Majesty, I've come here from Pendragon to ask for help?
—"For help?"—someone's thundering voice echoed through the hall.—Then why I can't see him kneeling before me?
—Your Majesty, don't be afraid to talk,—the dragon addressed.—I'm not going to do you any harm.
The dead silence suddenly broke in. In a couple of moments, a dwarf went out of the curtains, heavily stepping on the rough stone floor. He was slowly coming down the steps of the throne platform and slightly brushing his uncombed, bushy chestnut beard. The dwarf was holding an oak walking stick, covered with a thin layer of gold, and murmuring something very silently as if he was trying to conceal something. The king was dressed in splendid (according to the dwarves' taste) garb: the hood, made of good silk, was slightly brushing his short muscular calfs; his golden armor, made of pure gold, sparkle don the dim light of dozens of torches and weak rays of the sun, crawling into the palace through tiny little holes on the cave ceiling. The dwarf had a big axe, which was attached to the belt. That weapon was belonged to the hands of the greatest forgers of Trigaron and festooned with accurate and peculiar patterns. But the gem of this melee was the written on its blade: "Eternal glory shall be spilled upon the mighty dwarven nation and its glorious king!" Having sat on the throne and put the weapons nearby, he leaned his elbow on its right-side armrest and bassed loudly:
—Greetings, courageous messenger of Pendragon. What has brought you to such cold and restricted land?
—Your Highness,—the dragon, having kneeled before the king, politely addressed.—I've come to you to ask for help, obeying the will of king Pendragon. The war has come to Uniearth, ready to strangle its flourishing plains. The enemy is powerful. His hordes are ravaging villages, settlements, pillage innocent peasants and burn down blooming fields. We won't be able to defeat them without your help, Your Majesty. I refer myself to your generosity and plead you to help us in the defense of Eldoras.
—And why do we have to?—the dwarf asked cold-bloodily. His reply was unexpected and startling for dragon.—Pendragon is powerful enough to defeat any hostile that dares to enter his domain. There was no enemy who came any step further Tempestwind: there was no fool to penetrate its walls, no matter how strong his determination and bravery were. Moreover, Pendragon owns powerful reinforcements to arrive immediately by his command to every part of his kingdom.
—Tempestwind has fallen,—the dragon coldly interrupted.—We must protect Eldoras at all costs. But there are very few men to defend it. There are no reinforcements to arrive because the king cowardly fled from the city and headed for Eolmern. Don't you understand that three thousand untrained citizens would not be able to resist the siege of the enormous army for long? That's why we need your help, no matter how little it will be.
—Although there's no hostility between our nations I refuse to help Pendragon for my own particular reasons. Our relations with people have been pretty cold recently: fruitful lands on the north is the main cause of our hostility. His father put a fortress in there, having limited our influence in that region. Tempestwind was its name. As you can see, it's only Pendragon's fault of not giving us those lands. There was a lot of ore, vital for our economy.
—But isn't that essential to clear the air when the Uniearth's fate is at stake? —the dragon exclaimed.—The war is at the doors of our nations. We're all in terrible danger. Don't you understand that if our enemy wins, all the borders will fall and there will be nothing to divide — all you desire for now will be in his bloody hands. You will not be able to hide in your caves and mines: they will find you everywhere. Your children will be enslaved and...
—Enough! We will not go in for war!—the king exclaimed and angrily hit the armrest of the throne. —Nobody shall find us here! It'll take years to bring siege equipment to our gates. All of your pathetic people are wasting time, desperately trying to persuade me to enter the senseless bloody manslaughter, which'll do no good for my glorious kingdom! Get the Hade's out here, filthy human! I do not wish to see you ever again!
—Your wish is law, Your Magesty,—the dragon, stepping aside from the throne, replied with polite grief.—The only thing I can assure you of is when you will see your only son executed and his desperate sight will be tearing apart your conscious for ages, you will remember my words,—having opened the gates of the throne hall, he stopped for a second:—But if you suddenly change your mind, lead your army to Eldoras. We will be waiting.
With these words the dragon dashed out of the hall, having slammed the doors loudly, and left the king of the dwarven realm alone with his chilling thoughts.