The first batch of gold delivered at dusk served as a foundation, allowing humans and the dwarves in the Lonely Mountain to at least reestablish a certain level of mutual trust.
By the next morning, the dwarves had returned to the Lonely Mountain, jovial.
In River Valley City, both the elves and humans had calmed down.
It seemed no one believed there was any need for blades to meet or swords to draw blood in this scenario.
However, just as the sun rose a bit higher, a rumbling sound of marching suddenly echoed from the hills east of the Lonely Mountain.
The townspeople in River Valley City were thrown into chaos as if their homes were ablaze.
Most of them had only received their weapons two days ago, and although they had practiced a bit during that time, even calling them militia was a stretch.
"It's the dwarves!"
The armed townspeople on the city walls cried out in panic.
"A dwarven army!"
"The dwarves have broken their promise!?"
"Are they coming to attack us?"
