After the departure of the Knight Commander, Avi found himself contemplating the construction of defensive structures in the surrounding area.

Taking the reins, he surveyed the terrain on horseback in search of advantageous positions. Despite lacking formal training, his past as a fervent enthusiast of war games endowed him with a solid foundation.

Moreover, his proficiency in lore had furnished him with considerable military knowledge about the Warhammer world, placing him on par with those capable of commanding a hundred-man squad.

The terrain surrounding them proved favorable. Emerging from the forest, they were greeted by a wide, flat plain. Roughly seventy to eighty meters ahead, a gently rising hillock presented itself, perfectly suited for establishing a camp.

The hillock, neither excessively large nor small, remained vulnerable to flanking or rear assaults in the face of a determined enemy force. Avi, however, had devised his own solution to this potential threat.

"Captain Rafe, weren't we supposed to head straight to Middenheim? Why the sudden tree-chopping detour?" queried one of the mercenaries.

"Hey, why all the questions?" Rafe replied with a half-hearted chuckle, delivering a playful slap to the inquirer's shoulder, causing him to wince. "Put simply, it's about the coin. So, focus on the task at hand!"

Understanding Rafe's character, the questioner hadn't expected much, resigning himself to dutifully carrying out his assigned duties.

Thanks to Rafe's prowess in infantry command, coupled with his own combat skills, the mercenary band found themselves in high spirits, relatively unfazed by such minor diversions.

Before long, twenty mercenaries were industriously at work, their laughter punctuating the air, indicative of their camaraderie.

Stripped of their gear, this motley crew might easily be mistaken for reckless loggers—ordinary citizens of the Empire wouldn't dare tread into the Black Forest, a prime location for Greenskins to lurk.

Since aligning with Avi, their quality of life had markedly improved, transitioning from meager rations of dry bread and cold water to a varied diet comprising meats, berries, and bread.

Though devoid of steady income or permanent residence, this improvement sufficed for an Imperial peasant. Furthermore, Avi's emphasis on charisma, coupled with the influence of his leadership skill, left the mercenaries content with their present circumstances.

The transient impact of fallen comrades on morale proved fleeting, for death in this world was as commonplace as the air itself. Within half a day, morale no longer wavered in the face of casualties.

In accordance with Avi's directives, the mercenaries fervently pursued their tasks under Rafe's guidance, while Avi and Airen hastened toward Middenheim to procure necessary supplies and equipment.

Given the frequent patrols of provincial troops around Middenheim, this route offered several-fold greater safety compared to other paths within Midden's domain. Traveling day and night, the duo finally crossed the mountainous terrain and arrived at the foot of Middenheim.

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As the capital of Middenland, Middenheim nestled between the mountains, ranking among the Empire's largest four cities. Yet, Middenheim more aptly resembled a fortress amidst the mountains, impregnable as a golden stronghold.

Built into the mountain's embrace, Middenheim boasted unparalleled fortifications, accessible solely via four roads supported by arched bridges. Its appellation, 'home of the Midden people,' derived from legend asserting that the god Ulric shattered the highest mountain peak, igniting Ulric's sacred flame, which led to the prolific settlement and construction of this unassailable fortress city.

Midden's infertile land, harsh climate, and the prevalence of Greenskins concealed within the Black Forests scattered across the territory forged the obstinate and bellicose nature of its denizens.

The formidable walls of Middenheim shielded not the glow of sunlight or the splendor of glory, but rather the radiance of Ulric's sacred flame and the shadows cast by mountains and forests.

The people of Middenland had a distaste for ostentatious decorations adorning their city walls. Unlike other grand cities boasting various symbols of honor or warfare, this fortress eschewed such embellishments, much to Avi's surprise.

Perched atop the precipice, a colossal fortress stood, its silhouette veiled in the shadows of the Black Forest, evoking the formidable walls of despair from Greek mythology that Avi had once read about.

The entire stronghold seemed alive, pulsating amidst the peaks, with the clanking of cranes traversing the citadel echoing like its breath. Illuminated by the sacred flame of Ulric, it stood resolute, with legend holding that as long as the flame burned, Middenheim would remain unyielding.

As Avi approached Middenheim, the system incessantly flooded his mind with knowledge about the city. He learned of the dwarves who had carved tunnels to reach the highest peaks and laid the groundwork for Middenheim. Here, humans and dwarves had set aside all racial prejudices, fostering a wondrous symbiotic relationship.

"Airen, there must be a sizable dwarf population here, correct?" Avi cautiously inquired, "Are there any particular protocols we should observe?"

"Your Excellency, my knowledge of the dwarves is limited. However, based on the few records I've read, please ensure the utmost courtesy to each dwarf, ensuring they never feel slighted," replied Airen.

"Ah... I'm aware," Avi chuckled wryly, "They're a race that takes offense even if you don't offer them a ride. They're quite steadfast, aren't they?"

"Indeed," Airen affirmed, "However, thanks to the abundant iron ore hidden in these mountains and the exquisite craftsmanship of the dwarves, the equipment produced in Middenheim is unparalleled. Your Excellency, truth be told, I'm eager to admire those works of art."

Knowing Airen's almost obsessive love for equipment, Avi had to advise him, "Rest assured, there will be ample opportunities to visit in the future. Time is of the essence now; we must endure."

"Please rest assured, Your Excellency. I will never prioritize personal desires over duty," Airen vowed firmly, easing Avi's concerns somewhat.

The closer they approached Middenheim, the more imposing the fortress on the cliff felt.

Surrounded by forests and mountains, they laboriously traversed the carved-out roads, taking nearly a day to reach the village at the foot of Middenheim.

As they neared the city, Avi struggled for breath, remarking, "It's said that the main city area of Middenheim is nearly two hundred meters above the village below. Truly impressive..."

"Please be mindful, passing through the arch bridge ahead is no simple task," Airen timely reminded.

Middenheim relied solely on the 'East, South, West, and North' four large bridges to communicate with the outside world, hence the stringent security. The guards' gleaming long spears and armor under the light of Ulric's sacred flame exuded a solemn and sacred aura.

Even when Avi presented Elector Boris's order, the guards subjected them to repeated questioning, ensuring they weren't Chaos heretics or anything else abhorred by the people of Middenland before permitting entry into the city.

Walking on the arch bridge, Avi hardly dared to look down: beneath his feet was a nearly two-hundred-meter-high cliff, a single glance downward could induce vertigo.

Entering through the city gates, Avi couldn't help but marvel inwardly, "If circumstances allow in the future, I must also fashion my stronghold after this—a fortress infused with faith, topography, and steadfast allies. This is the impregnable fortress of Middenheim, a city that never falters, grand and sacred..."