Gus commented that so far this was the same as the elves.
“And so the race of dwarves was born as the minions of the fire god Blaze. The dwarves were as unyielding as earth and stone. They lived long lives, could see through darkness like their way was lit by fire, and were skilled in the use of the furnace. But they were destined to deal in the metals the fae disliked, and so their nature started to diverge from the purity of the fae, and the fairies kept their distance. Due to this, there are no elementalists among them comparable to the elves.”
In silence, I listened to him talk. It was an interesting story that felt rewarding to listen to. I thought about the elves and dwarves, races that looked like humans but were not, and wondered if I’d meet them in the outside world someday.
“Instead, they put their faith in the deity Blaze who was their forefather. They researched the old Words and combined them with the skills of metallurgy and engraving. When it comes to the art of infusing objects with Words—that is to say, engraving the Signs—you will not find more talented artisans. The majority of the dwarves live in mines, preferring to live underground due to their origins as fae of the earth and rock. They are short, perhaps related to where they live, and barrel-chested. They are heavy drinkers, they are physically strong, and the majority of them grow beards. And on top of being highly talented craftsmen, they are also excellent warriors.”
When I heard that, my eyes naturally went straight to Blood. “Yeah,” he said, and nodded. “Those guys are the real deal.”
I was shocked. I could tell from Blood’s voice that this was genuine praise.
“T-Tell me more about them!”
“More? Uh, I’ll give it a shot. Hmm...” Blood thought for a little while. “They’re simple, honest people, and... they understand the meaning of fighting, and what courage is. They’re more upright inside their hearts than anyone’s ever stood.”
There was no sarcastic response from Gus, not this time. Instead, with gentle eyes, he simply listened to him speak.
“One thing is always on their minds, day in and day out.”
“What’s that?”
“The question of what’s worth laying down their life for. What’s their reason to fight.” Pale blue will-o’-the-wisps roared in Blood’s eye sockets. “And when they find it—” He paused. “They go into battle with their souls burning with the fire of courage, and never once fear death.”
I got the chills. If they could make Blood of all people say that, these dwarves had to be incredible, true warriors.
“I salute those dwarven warriors. The ones I met, at least, and who fought alongside me, were true champions.”
I was now greatly looking forward to the day I’d meet them. I wondered what their faces looked like, their straight backs, their braided beards, their shining axes, their prideful, forthright gaze. I imagined all those things, and fantasized of the day when I would fight shoulder-to-shoulder with them.
“As for me, I am not particularly fond of them,” Gus said sullenly.
I was surprised to hear him say that. “Really?”
“Mm... Of course, I will admit they have marvelous knowledge and skills. I will even admit they are warriors with resolve,” he said, and sighed. “But I’ve never known such an obstinate, tightfisted lot in all my life! They are unbelievable!”
I stood there blinking speechlessly for a moment, then looked to Blood and saw him meeting my gaze with a look that said “Can you believe this guy?”
Gus clearly had a repulsion for his own kind.
◆
I awoke in dim light. I could see the room’s plank ceiling above me. I’d had a pretty nostalgic dream.
“Oh...”
Somehow, I got the feeling that I now understood the real reason I’d helped out those dwarves back then: I’d felt sad. And it wasn’t because my imagination had been betrayed; it wasn’t because they hadn’t had straight backs, braided beards, shining axes, and prideful, forthright gazes. It was because Blood, the one and only Blood, had acknowledged this race as warriors, and they had looked at me nervously, cautiously, submissively, covered in dirt and mud, with thin arms and legs, and their eyes flicking about, full of insecurity. And the sight of them was just terribly, unbearably sad.
That isn’t what you are, I must have been wanting to tell them. It simply isn’t. In truth, you all... are amazing. You’re... so, so much more—
Of course, I was just pushing the image I had inside my head onto them unasked. I knew that. But even so, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted them to take back their pride, to drop that submissive, nervous look, to hold up their heads and push out their chests. And that was why I was so happy that they were able to live with pride here in this city.
I slowly got out of bed. It was made of bundles of straw with a white sheet pulled over it. It was much better than sleeping directly on piles of hay, because now the straw didn’t scratch my body. I slowly opened the door, went out into the hall, and to the well in my yard.
The house I currently lived in was located close to the center of the city. It had been refurbished from a mansion in the ruins that had managed to retain its structure comparatively well. I hadn’t especially been looking for a big house to live in, but if I had refused a big house, it would have made everyone else feel awkward. Besides, they suggested it as a good idea because I often had visitors and guests who needed a place to stay, anyway.
As I result, I ended up employing some servants—specifically, maids. I had memories of the novels from my previous world, so the sound of the words “employing maids” had made my heart flutter a little, but—
“Ah. Good morning.”
“Ohh, good morning, young master William.”
“Pffhaha, don’t you look a sight! Go and tidy your hair, dearie!”
The ones who applied were old ladies who lived nearby. That’s reality for you.
Of course, that aside, they did great work with the cleaning, cooking, and laundry, so it was very helpful having them around. Thanks to them, I had a lot more free time to spend on my own training. Gus had mentioned to me before that money could buy time to a certain extent, and this was exactly what he meant.
I used a bucket to fetch some water from the well. As I pulled the bucket up, I thought about how useful it would be to have a hand-operated pump. I thought I remembered it using a directional valve and pressure to draw up the water... but couldn’t quite remember the full details. But thinking about it more carefully, we couldn’t afford to be so wasteful with metal anyway. I might have been able to recreate the design, but we wouldn’t be able to make it widespread, so I concluded as I washed my face and rinsed my mouth that there was almost no point.
“Okay.”
I had bed head, so I put water through it to fix it. It didn’t work.
“Huh?” I wet my hair a little more and made sure it was just the way I wanted it. Boing. My hair sprang up again. “Grr...” I adjusted it once more, this time really taking care to set it properly.
“Finally!”
It sprang up again. It was being horrendously stubborn.
I fixed it. It sprang up. I fixed it. It sprang up.
“O-Okay. This time I’ve definitely got it.” Boing. “Gaaahh!!”
I tipped the entire bucket of water over my head.
◆
“That’s why your head’s so soaking wet?”
Menel and I were in the yard. While laughing at my stupidity, Menel continued to press my head in one direction, while I resisted and pushed back against him. We were doing neck training.
Training the neck muscles is modestly important. If you’re punched in the head or have your legs swept out from under you, it’s your neck muscles that protect your head. If they’re weak, it’s relatively easy to get seriously hurt.
“Come on! Nine... ten!”
“Gnnngh...”
As he pressed with all of his strength, I breathed out slowly and resisted with all of my own, pushing his hand back.
“Okay. Swap.”
I exhaled and relaxed.
And we just kept going like that, piling up basic muscle and stretching exercises. Arms, legs, abs, back—each day, the place I focused on was different, but I made sure to train every body part I used in battle. Having a flexible and strong body underpinned everything, and I would lose it if I didn’t keep up my training and consume enough food.
Back in the city of the dead, I was able to train every single day, but once I started getting work and needed to be on the move, that wasn’t so easy. Having finally established a central base, I had recently become able to train sufficiently again, and without that, I probably wouldn’t have been able to overpower the cernunnos physically. Blood had done well to keep up that much muscle power while being a traveler. I wondered if he’d used some kind of trick. I should have asked him.
“Okay, so next is...”
“Swings,” I said, and picked up what I’d be practicing with. It was not a sword, but something about three times as heavy: a long and thick block of wood with a handle attached. I gave it a test swing to start off. It made a satisfyingly low sound as it gouged a path through the air.
Blood had told me that being able to swing around training equipment heavier than a weapon was the best indication that you’d be able to swing around your actual weapon in the heat of battle. I saw no faults with that argument, either.
Menel let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Ridiculous strength. You’d never know it from looking at you.”
Being a descendant of the elves, Menel had a slim body, amazing agility, and was able to burst into action incredibly quickly. But that wasn’t all; he had his own share of strength, as well.
“But I wanted people to know it from looking at me!” I said.
Of course, even with the way my body looked right now, people were getting the impression that I worked out. That was good. But for some reason, I wasn’t turning out like Blood. No one would describe me as “a commanding, heroic-looking man!” or “a giant of muscle!” My skeletal structure and that kind of thing was probably part of the issue, but I was also starting to suspect that in this world, muscle mass and muscle strength weren’t entirely proportional. Maybe mana or some factor like that had something to do with it.
In any case, I wanted more of a “tough guy” image, but both my body and my personality were finding it very difficult to complete the transformation, and I thought that was a tremendous shame.
“People like you. Why change?”
“Look, people long for what they don’t have, okay?!”
“Learn to be satisfied...”
After that brief yet heated discussion, we started practicing our swings, Menel with a practice pole that was skinnier than mine. We practiced downward swings and upward cuts over and over, each of us counting out the repetitions. We moved our legs, torsos, arms, and swords with purpose, making sure to keep them working together so that the movement that started with the legs was conveyed all the way through the tip of the blade.
Verify the current state of your movements and sharpen them toward the future.
“Hm...?”
I felt someone’s gaze on me. Reystov and other adventurers sometimes came to join in with my morning training, and sometimes kids who lived nearby came around as well to peek at what we were doing.
But I got the feeling that wasn’t quite it.
◆
Suspicious, I searched for the source of the gaze—and there it was. On the other side of my small vegetable garden, someone was peeking at us over the hedge. It was someone with black hair. I didn’t recognize them.
“Menel, wait there a moment,” I said, and walked over there.
I didn’t mind them watching, but if they kept on doing it sneakily like that, other people might mistake them for a burglar or something. This world was pretty rough, so when something like that happened, it would sometimes result in angry shouting and possibly even bloodshed. There was no need to peek; all this person needed to do was call out to us, come straight into our yard, and watch. Neither Menel nor I would mind that very much.
“Good morning,” I called out, and the person behind the hedge cringed in fright.
Trembling, they raised their head.
It was a male dwarf with a hunched back and braided black hair. It was hard to tell his age, but his beard was short, so he was probably still young.
“Nice weather, isn’t it?”
“U-Umm... G-Good... morn...ing...” He stood up, flustered.
As we faced each other standing for the first time, I realized he was quite tall for a dwarf, and big-boned, too. But because of his stoop and nervous behavior, his body had none of the intimidating presence I would have expected.
“You’re very welcome to come in and watch, instead of watching from there.” I figured he was introverted, and spoke to him in the calmest, kindest manner I could.
“U-Uh...” His restless eye movement was just starting to calm down, when—
“Hey, Will, what are you fussing about over there?” Menel stopped practicing his swings and came over. He was probably wondering why I was taking so long. “Hm? Who are you? Haven’t seen you around here before.”
After seeing that a new person was now talking to him, the dwarf’s shoulders twitched and he let out a small, frightened squeak.
“All right, brother, I’m not gonna eat you. You interested? Come watch if you want.”
“N-No, I...!”
Menel spoke to him kindly, but the mistake had been made. If you spoke to someone like this in that tone of voice—
“I, I, I’m fine, thank you! I’m sorry for interrupting your training! Bye!”
He bowed his head, hurriedly and yet pretty politely, and then scampered away, almost tripping over himself. I kind of wanted to stop him, but there was a hedge between us, and nothing had really happened to call him all the way back, anyway.
“Mmgh...” After watching him disappear in no time flat, I sent Menel a slightly reproachful look. Maybe it sounded offensive, but I kind of felt as though a cat that was just starting to get used to me had gone and run off...
“Yeah... my fault.” Menel raised a hand as a gesture of mild apology. He was obviously aware. “Turns out that has the opposite effect on guys like that.”
“Of course it does...”
“Not sure if he was interested in the training or you.”
When someone came to peep on us, it was usually one or the other.
“The training, don’t you think? Dwarves are a race of warriors, after all.”
“Did that guy look like he was warrior material to you? My bet’s on him wanting to see the paladin everyone’s been talking about.”
As we talked to each other, I returned to practicing, slightly disappointed. For some reason, I felt like he and I could have gotten along well. I wondered whether he would come to watch me train again.
As I focused, that feeling slowly melted away inside my heart and disappeared.
◆
Hammers clanged, and saws rasped. I could hear looms at work weaving cloth, children playing in the streets, and a boss calling for his apprentices. And together with these, I could hear work songs being sung to set a rhythm for their labor.
Having finished all kinds of jobs of my own, I stood at the entrance to Dwarftown—the common name for the area around the streets where the dwarves lived—listening to these bright and pleasant sounds.
As I looked around, I noticed that quite a number of extensions and modifications had been made to the stone houses, and many of them now looked more like workshops. Laundry lines were strung everywhere, and clothes were blowing about in the breeze. Thinking to myself that this place always felt alive, I walked in.
As I was walking down the street, one of the rasping noises ceased. Several dwarves who had been doing a little woodwork at the side of the road stopped, took off their hats, and bowed deeply to me. I knew one of them. That slightly chubby, cheerful d
warf with a bushy beard was...
“Thanks for your work, Thori.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Welcome, Paladin. All by your lonesome?”
“Ahaha. It’s nothing that calls for an attendant. Is Agnarr around?”
“If it’s Agnarr you want, he’s at home, I believe! Hodh, go run and let him know the Paladin’s coming!”
“Ai,” a younger dwarf said, nodding. He set down his tools.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that...”
“Nonsense! Agnarr wouldn’t feel right about us just sitting back and not giving our liege lord a proper welcome when he visits!”
“Ai!” The younger dwarf called Hodh nodded and dashed off before I could stop him.
Now that a messenger had been sent out to inform Agnarr about my visit, it would both be rude and a nuisance to him if I made my way over there too soon. After all, the point of sending a messenger to someone was to give them time to prepare. And since I wasn’t here often, I decided to spend a little time talking with Thori before going.
Many of the dwarves were people of relatively few words, but Thori was a talker, and laughed as if he was completely happy to have been born that way. I, too, found him approachable and easy to talk to.
“How has life been treating you recently?” I asked.
“Hahaha! It’s like night and day! I can make what I want, sell what I want! No need to worry about where tomorrow’s meal’s coming from! It’s a real blessing.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Has there been any trouble in the area, or anyone in poverty?”
The Lord of the Rust Mountains Page 6