"Your Majesty, the King summons you!" A dwarf gently knocked on the door, and upon Rynar's invitation to enter, he explained his purpose.
"Thorin wants to see me?" Rynar was taken aback for a moment before realizing it must be about post-war recovery and various alliances.
After all, although Azog and his unfortunate son Bolg had been dealt with, the Northern Orc Kingdom still existed, and Dol Guldur was still plagued by orcs…
What was even more outrageous was that the chaotic tribes now residing in the region of Rune were nothing but Mordor's lackeys…
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"Everyone! Good morning!" Rynar raised a nearby wine cup in a gesture toward the crowd.
"King Rynar! Good morning!" Thranduil smiled warmly.
"Oh! Rynar! My brother!" Thorin rushed over, giving him a bear hug to express his enthusiasm.
"Good morning, Your Grace." Elenthor raised a glass of juice in greeting.
"I'm so glad I live to see you!" Aranthor joked while spreading butter on the bread in his hand.
"Hey! Come here, buddy!" Vanervi invited Rynar to sit with him, showing no grace as an elf, but instead the enthusiasm of a commoner.
"Thank you for your assistance; your bravery and that of your soldiers have changed the future of the North!" Bard sincerely praised.
"Everyone's here! By the way, where's Dain? How can the King of the Iron Hills miss such a grand occasion?" Rynar looked around, not finding Dain's figure.
"Oh! Damn it! Is no one going to pull me up? I'm an injured man! Can't you see Rynar is looking for me?" Dain's deep voice grumbled from under a nearby table.
"Oh! Sorry! Dain, you're just too heavy!" Bard exclaimed as he struggled to lift Dain, whose weight far exceeded his expectations; the dwarf's sturdy body density was astonishing.
"Hahaha! Bard, you're a real man!" Dain patted Bard on the shoulder.
"Oh! King Dain of the Iron Hills? Greetings!" Rynar observed the dwarf king before him carefully.
Dain, who had accomplished more historically than Thorin, had a red beard, a rugged face, and short limbs packed with unparalleled explosive strength.
He seemed to be the strongest of the dwarves at this time. It was a pity dwarves were rather unfortunate, as their lack of a home led to scarce training resources.
"Greetings, King Rynar of Zaltarion. Thank you for helping us in our most difficult times; you will always be a friend of the Dwarven race!" Dain said sincerely.
"It's my honor," Rynar nodded in acknowledgment. He had to admit Dain was indeed a king worthy of ruling the Lonely Mountain after Thorin, governing it with prosperity and charm.
It was rare to hear such pleasant words from a typically stubborn and proud dwarf.
"Alright, let's get down to business!" Thorin clapped his hands to grab everyone's attention.
"Though the darkness has receded, they have not been completely defeated.
The Orc Kingdom of Gundabad, the tribes of orcs in the Misty Mountains, and the remnants of Azog holed up in Dol Guldur are all fatal threats to us!"
Thorin stood up and surveyed the expressions of those present, then continued, "I want to form a coalition! Let's eradicate these threats once and for all!"
"Of course…" Rynar covered his face in his hands.
Thorin's desire for grandiosity shone through, showcasing the dwarves' usual propensity for recklessness.
Did they really want to retaliate without giving their wounds time to heal?
"We have the powerful knights of the Zaltarion Kingdom! The most fearless dwarven warriors! The deadliest rangers and archers of the elves!
We even have dragon riders and true dragon knights! We are fully capable of defeating them! To forge a land free from the darkness for our descendants!" Thorin's fists clenched with passion.
"Sorry… the elves of Singray will not participate in the next battle," Elenthor stood, bowing slightly to apologize.
"Our people are few; we've already lost nearly four hundred in this fight, which is quite a blow.
Elandor's dragon has also suffered heavily, hit by dragon-slaying bolts. It needs time to recover," Elenthor explained, unwilling to sacrifice the lives of her kin for threats that felt insubstantial.
"The Woodland Realm has also suffered significant casualties.
During the final battle, the rangers of the Woodland Realm and the Rapid Infantry fought side by side at the front. We have honored the pact!" Thranduil stated blandly.
To be fair, the rangers of the Woodland Realm had indeed suffered greatly, with the death toll exceeding a thousand, pressing down on Thranduil's heart like a weight on a washing board.
"Why are you looking at me? Don't you know the situation in the Aquavia Kingdom?
The soldiers of Loshanier are nearly exhausted!" Aranthor rolled his eyes. As one of the main battlegrounds, Loshanier had made tremendous sacrifices.
Finally, all eyes turned to Rynar…
"Give it up; I don't have the forces to organize another battle. The Rapid Infantry is down to 1,500 men; count how many of them still have all their parts intact!
Don't tell me you want the knights to storm the castle?" Rynar shrugged.
His infantry was indeed limited, and crucially, he lacked any strong siege units.
The Rapid Infantry, heavy cavalry, and knights were suited for plains combat, while archers and rangers excelled in forests.
The Dunwenian Swordsmen and Zaltarion City Guards were suitable for defensive battles. As for summoning light infantry… forget it.
Though they became brave and skilled after training, their potential was inherently limited, so if Rynar truly attempted a siege, the outcome would be uncertain.
"This…" Thorin stared blankly at everyone.
He couldn't understand why no one was willing to seize such a good opportunity to eradicate the orcs. Beside him, Bard and Dain gently shook their heads.
"My suggestion is for everyone to return to their homes, take care of their own affairs, and support one another in defense.
After fighting for so long, we need to recuperate. I don't even have enough food for my people for the autumn harvest," Rynar sighed.
"Indeed, we can't continue fighting. I don't know if the orcs will be wiped out, but Loshanier will truly be gone," Aranthor said, reflecting on his fallen kin with a heavy heart.
"I cannot sacrifice the lives of my kin just to retaliate against the orcs; that would be too unfair to them," Elenthor gazed at Thorin.
"The Woodland Realm also needs to recover. Our outposts have been infiltrated by orcs, and many have been uprooted.
It will take a long time to re-establish monitoring of the Woodland Realm's borders," Thranduil expressed his concerns.
"Thorin… you all need a break too. Dale and Iron Hills have sustained significant losses, and Erebor has also paid a price.
You should retrieve your wandering kin for rest and recovery rather than rushing to retaliate against the orcs!" Rynar advised.
"Thorin, my brother! I know you're furious! You hate the orcs! But Rynar and everyone are right; we can't afford to continue.
We need to recuperate; behind every victory are the cries of our people. We can't sacrifice our kin any further!" Dain looked at Thorin earnestly.
"… Let's form an alliance; we need each other…" Thorin didn't say more, but it was clear he had been persuaded by the others.
Thud! Thud! With each stamp of authority, the Lonely Mountain Alliance was officially formed on that day.
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