"Are we out of our leagues…?"
"I don't know."
On a watchtower near the summit of a snowy peak, two dwarves were looking through an advanced spyglass. Both of them have the knack for engineering, more so than the other dwarves, so they were given the safest but really important task.
Keeping a lookout for the crimson horde.
"Let's assume the worst and say the horde consists of only pseudo tenth-rank realm creatures. With our current arsenal, is it possible to even put up a good fight against them? Because of the Osmalt Ores, we're quite loaded."
"If we assume the worst, then we'll have no chance even with our current arsenal. Stalling is possible, but winning? Total blockade? That's not going to be possible."
"I think you're underestimating the Osmalt Ores."
"And you're underestimating the empire's enemy. Before this, it was the Fifthborn, remember?"
A rough, helpless chuckle escaped the optimistic dwarf's lips
