Even if the campaign to conquer Sylvania has stalled, this didn't mean it has stopped completely.
There were always problems to solve, troops to train, and forts to build and administrate.
Camping in the open was a dangerous task, with random zombies or ghouls emerging from a forest or bog nearby to munch on your flesh, or Orcs and Goblins trying to expand where the influence of the Vampire Counts was weaker.
Provision and supply trains needed to be guarded non-stop, long lines of carts and animals bringing food and drinks, plus gunpowder and bullets for the army. A few daring merchants have also arrived, as they always did when an army got rich from their wages and battle loot.
I wasn't opposed to this, but I did have to regulate trade, less it became pure robbery. They had robber barons here as well, buying things for cheap and selling them 100 times more in a different province.
Since the army wasn't a good option to maintain the law, I had to use my new Wild Guard instead. Luckily, there were over 100 hunters in the guard now, plus a hundred more orphan children gathered by my apprentices. If I had to guess, there will be thousands more such children until the conquest was over. Wars always produced orphans, either from the locals or our own dead soldiers.
Jet the Dragon made imposing the Imperial Law somewhat more simpler. A gush of flame, and disputes ended right then. Or the next jet fell on the vocal part. Normal people burned like twigs in dragon fire. Quite scary, if I say so myself.
"Only use the flames when I command you to. Either mentally, or with the word Dracarys. Got it?" I warned my new Dragon after his fire spread to a nearby cottage and I had to pay 1 gold for the damages.
'Dracarys ? What does it mean?" my Dragon asked curious.
"It means dragonfire. In a long lost language. The High Valyrian language." I said with a tiny smirk.
'All right. But if I am attacked, I will use my dragonfire anyways. Orders or not.' Jet allowed with a displeased tone.
Right. He was a person too, my Dragon. Of course, he would have the right at self-defense. More so, as an Imperial Dragon.
"Just use your best judgement, Jet. You are the Imperial Dragon, and your actions reflect not only on you and me, but also the Emperor and the Empire of Man itself. Plus, I don't think you'll get attacked very often. Most people would be too scared to try." I offered in a kinder voice, and patted his scales.
'That should be so. I am rather scary, aren't I?' The Dragon preened and opened his wings wide.
"Anyways, let's go visit my favorite Dwarf Runesmith. Maybe he can make a suit of armor for you. Don't be offended, but I rather return you to the Emperor without grave injuries or missing parts." I said after that, and flew slowly towards the Black Water lake to collect some trading goods for the Dwarves.
Meaning more Gromril.
So when I arrived at Zhufbar, with a raft holding about 33 tones of precious minerals, the face on the gate only nodded at me. "The Runesmith has been notified of your arrival."
'These Dwarves are a type of small humans, right? I heard some humans calling their smaller variants a dwarf.' Jet asked in a curious tone.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
'Humanoid, but not the same race. Just like a Dragon is not a lizard, nor an eagle.' I explained curtly. Was dwarf or midget the worse term?
Jet nodded wisely. 'I see. '
When the Runesmith emerged from the city, he stared at the Dragon for a long minute, then nodded at me. "More Amber Wizard magic? You tamed a Dragon now, Warden of the East?"
Well...yes. But not really. "This is Jet Goldenweave, an Imperial Dragon from Altdorf. He is here to help me kill the Vampires a bit faster. But he needs proper armor. Thus more Gromril." I explained in a gracious voice.
Jet saluted with his wing like a proper soldier.
"Honoured to meet you, Imperial Dragon. I am Runesmith Dorin Ironforge, fourteen of my name." the Runesmith introduced himself, now that proper introductions had been made.
Uh. The Dwarf never told me his name til now. Probably wasn't considered an important person.
"I was thinking runic chainmail, but you're the expert." I interjected as silence became a bit too long.
The Dwarf just glared at me, and stepped closer to the Dragon. "The Imperial Dragon can show me himself what kind of armor he wants." the Runesmith muttered in his beard.
'I think Dorin means you can summon a golden suit for yourself, and he just makes an armor based on it.' I whispered mentally to my Dragon.
'I know. Just thinking how I want to present myself for combat.' Jet answered while the Winds of Magic gathered around him, like for a major spell.
Then a fabulous suit of armor appeared on his body, partly chainmail where he needed to move his wings or legs, and partly scaled plates over his vital parts. And much much nicer than my own coat.
'Make one like that for me too.' I demanded immediately.
Magic flared again, and a similar type of suit appeared around me, including scaled plates. It looked fabulous, and possibly costed more than a suit of Gromril armor.
Dragging the metal silk from our bodies, I handed both suits to the silent Runesmith.
"These Goldenweave suits are your payment for the armor. I think you already know their value." I said in a mild voice.
The Runesmith just nodded with a deep frown on his face. "I only read about it in the old tomes, but now I saw it with my own eyes. Goldenweave. The Perfection of Chamon." he whispered in a daze.
"Anyways, do you have anything for me?" I asked a bit curious. The Dwarves did have excellent forging skills, as proven by the Runefangs and other precious artifacts.
"Ah. Yes, your club is ready, since it didn't take a lot of skill to make. And I payed a dozen smiths to scribe 3 Major Durability runes on it. Also, 280 steel rifles. Do you want them now?"
the Runesmith asked in a bored voice, his mind and eyes focused on the metal weave in his hands.
"Yes. Also, if you are going to equip your troops with my new breech-loading rifles, I expect 1 silver coin royalty for every single one. But casted as silver bullets." I demanded when I realized what I could gain for my unpatented invention. I may need to start a Patent Office.
The Runesmith glared at me, for no reason. "One silver coin isn't much, but you haven't asked for this earlier."
"And I didn't suspect you would dare to copy my weapon without my approval. Do you want me to take you to court? I will win, and cast shame upon you. And still get my silver due."
I warned the sneaky cheating Dwarf.
The Runesmith cursed something in his beard. "Fine! Those cursed Vampires better burn in the Nine Hells from my silver."
"Why are you so grumpy? I got you more Gromril, and even this Goldenweave. Even a Runelord would be glad to such a good deal." I asked a bit curious.
The Runesmith just sighed. "It is a good deal. It's just that, the Skaven are always assaulting our deep mines. Damn rats...always stealing the minerals, damaging equipment..." he complained in a tired voice.
I smiled a bit too wide. "I can solve your problem. But I want a steam tank. Changed a little."
The Runesmith eyed the Dragon with suspicion. "The mighty Imperial Dragon will not fit inside our tunnels."
"You did say my club is ready, right? I will test it on these Skaven rats. But if it breaks, you must make me a new one." I demanded in a cunning tone.
"It will not break! Nothing will ever dent that damned club. Did you hear me say 3 Major Durability runes?" the Runesmith yelled in near anger.
I smiled a bit. "I didn't say it will break. I said if. I am a bit strong." I answered in a peaceful voice, and my Dragon nodded in turn. Jet felt my strength as well. A part of it, at least.
"It will not break. It's name is Unbreakable" the Runesmith proclaimed in a deadly voice.
Hmm. A good name, I admit. But I did have to test it.