The ideal solution to Waterpine's invasion was obvious: strengthen Riverside's military and recruit powerful allies. But with a tiny population and Brody's army mobilizing, conscription was too slow, and training militia wouldn't bridge the gap in time.
Hiring mercenaries? Exorbitantly expensive, and Sean's funds were already stretched thin. Worse, weak defenses might tempt mercenaries to betray him—history was littered with such betrayals.
Lying awake until dawn, Sean's breakthrough came in a flash: the dwarves. If he could persuade them to forge firearms, even a small force could neutralize Brody's 200-man army—provided they could contain Zud, the Silver Rank warrior.
"Firearms could even the odds," he thought. Farmers and militia with guns might stand a chance against conscripts.
Before sleeping, he tested his arm's enhancement from absorbing 325 Black Iron cores. Casting Water Bolt, he noted a 20% faster casting speed and vague but tangible resistance to elemental damage—side benefits from the System's core absorption.
Sean woke at 9 AM, groggy from his first sleepless night in this world. Gazing at Yorn's cathedral spire, he spotted Bach Bronzehammer, the dwarf blacksmith, hammering away at his forge. Time to act.
Over breakfast, he summoned Windsor, who arrived with dark circles under his eyes. "My Lord, Balor—"
"Balor will suffice," Sean interrupted. "I need you to trust my judgment. Now, listen to the plan: we'll commission dwarves to craft firearms."
Windsor hesitated, "But firearm production takes time. What if Brody attacks sooner?"
"Then we retreat and regroup," Sean shrugged. "Do you have a better idea?"
Windsor departed to fetch Bach, returning with a barrel of Holy Flame Spirit. The dwarf entered, nose twitching at the liquor's aroma, eyes lighting up at the sight of Sean.
"Good morning, Lord Sean! Bach Bronzehammer, at your service. Expanding my forge thanks to your orders—got an even bigger commission for me?" His eyes flicked to the wine barrel, greed thinly veiled.