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the reason, they were wary of his attacks, instead opting to avoid him as they attacked Gerold’s civilian allies.

He wasn’t having any of that, however, as he attacked them from the side as they were engaged with his people.  One after another he practically diced apart with his frigid battleaxe, relieving some of the pressure on the civilians, but there always seemed to be more right behind them.

“Master – they’re not stopping!  We need to flee while there’s still enough of us to cover the retreat.”  Gerold was thinking about going through the main entrance of the Hall, but he realized that he might need to go with the rest further into the mountain in order to protect them.  Now that he was involved in the fight, the thought of abandoning the civilians to their fate left a bad taste in his mouth.  Or that could be the beetle guts that just splashed everywhere; it’s hard to tell.

Apparently his shout was loud enough that the King heard him.  “NO!  I will not be the first King in history to lose one of our Halls to these blasted monsters!  Stay where you are; we just need to hold on for a short time longer!”

Gerold thought that was a stupid reason not to retreat when they had the chance, because the Hall could always be retaken in the future, when they were better prepared.  Speaking of that….

“Master – are there any reinforcements coming,” he asked, loud enough for Jespin to hear him, but hopefully not for the King or First-shield Parten to listen in.

“No; the King came through the main connecting tunnel with Coppertine Hall just before this attack, and there are strict regulations in place whenever there is an attack.”  The Master Blacksmith was staying behind Gerold, which the former Shieldman was thankful for, because it kept him safer; meanwhile he listened to the explanation while he continued to be the main defense on the civilian line, swiping his battleaxe wherever he was needed, keeping the casualties down to nothing.  He knew that wasn’t going to last long, though, as everyone defending was starting to show signs of deep exhaustion.  How long have they been fighting? he wondered, though that wasn’t the question he asked.

“What regulations?”  Either he hadn’t heard about it before, or his mind was too focused on the fight to comprehend what Jespin was talking about.

“As soon as an attack occurs on a stronghold, if the non-combative residents are forced to evacuate, no other reinforcements are to be sent through without knowledge of the situation.  This prevents them walking into a trap or ambush, and would be a waste of those reinforcements.  The only way to get word to Coppertine Hall for help is if a Shieldman is sent through as a messenger, but there’s no way that any of them can be spared at the moment.”

That seemed like a bunch of poor regulations to Gerold, but he supposed it made historical sense. A millennium ago, most of the Dwarven clans had been independent, sticking to their own Halls and stronghold, only interacting in times of general defense – when they weren’t warring with themselves.  He already knew about the way the tunnels could be easily collapsed if monsters attempted to pass through them, which was a holdover of those times in case there were an attack by another clan.

Oh, to be alive during the time when raiding clans were more of a worry than dungeon monsters.  Unfortunately, after the devastation to the Dwarven people after the events that caused the wasteland where Sandra had her dungeon, the King put a stop to those types of practices.  There were too few of them at that point, and the clans had to work together to survive.  In fact, the clans were all but diluted into obscurity because of the mutual partnership and intermarrying, which was beneficial to the entire Dwarven race.  “So why keep these outdated regulations?”

He didn’t realize he had spoken aloud until the Master Blacksmith answered.  “Because there had been no reason to change them.  There hasn’t been a serious external attack on the Halls since I’ve been alive, so there was no cause to re-evaluate them.”  Still seemed stupid to Gerold.  “In fact, the only one that still makes sense is to keep the Drums of War pounding, letting the nearby Hall know that there is still danger present.  If the Drums stop and no one has come through to let those on the opposite side of the connecting tunnel know it’s safe, then the tunnel will be collapsed.”

Great.  “So, what’s the plan?”

Master Blacksmith Jespin spoke softer, just barely loud enough for Gerold to hear.  “We can’t leave right now, because it would doom everyone here.  We were nearly at our breaking point when you arrived, and without your help, we would’ve been slaughtered a half hour ago.”

Gerold hadn’t realized he had already been fighting for over 30 minutes non-stop by that point, and the floor was littered with little orbs of dungeon loot where he had killed countless Gigantic Bugs and Werebeasts.  Looking around as if waking from a nightmarish dream, he saw that the stream of monsters kept coming, though perhaps it looked a bit less than before?  Unfortunately, his own side was looking worse; at least a dozen more civilians had fallen while he had tried to protect them, and the rest looked ready to collapse from exhaustion at any moment.

The Shieldmen didn’t look much better, as there were at least another half-dozen missing from their number.  As time went on and the monsters didn’t significantly reduce in number, even more would perish as energy ran out and their armor and weapons disintegrated from the lack of elemental power sustaining them, and the Shieldmen themselves would pass out from being completely drained.

The King, his bodyguards, and First-shield Parten still seemed to be holding up, though even

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