Chapter 81
Chapter 81
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 81
Chapter Title: The Firehammer Tribe
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The ancient demon Gorgon met such a futile end.
The true power of Maranello, the Grim Reaper of the North, was enough to slay even an ancient demon in a single strike.
“...Incredible.”
Carlyle felt an insurmountable wall in Maranello's strength.
At the same time, it made him realize just how powerful their enemies were.
Even Maranello, with such martial prowess, hadn't been able to completely subjugate the barbarians beyond the border.
And it wasn't just Maranello.
Selena, a possessor of immense strength, was also active on the front lines beyond the border, as was Grand Duke Guntram, said to be the strongest on the continent.
The barbarians were strong.
Among them were warriors who could stand shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Maranello, Selena, and Grand Duke Guntram.
The Sigmund family and the United Kingdom hadn't been fighting the barbarians for hundreds of years for no reason.
The barbarian warriors and the wars Carlyle had experienced so far were nothing more than child's play.
If he went to a real battlefield, there was no guarantee he wouldn't encounter a powerhouse like Maranello.
*Just how strong do I have to become? And how much effort will it take to get that strong?*
Carlyle couldn't even begin to fathom it.
He was at the point where he wanted to just save up some money and run away to some remote corner of the continent.
But having been born a Sigmund, that was impossible.
If he selfishly pursued only his own survival, he could live a life of luxury, but even that wouldn't be safe.
*Why did it have to be Sigmund?*
Just as Carlyle was grumbling inwardly.
*Crumble, crumble!*
The dwarf statues began to awaken, one by one.
With Gorgon's death, the spell seemed to be breaking, returning them to their original forms.
“Ugh?”
“What's happened?”
The awakened dwarves were bewildered, unable to grasp the situation.
“Th-that's!”
“Gasp!”
The dwarves were startled to find the corpses of snakes scattered around and the dismembered body of Gorgon.
From their perspective, having been turned to stone by Gorgon's magic for hundreds of years and just now awakening, their confusion was only natural.
“Who are you?”
An old dwarf with a white beard that reached his navel spoke to them.
“We are an investigation team from Decaron. This is Young Master Carlyle van Sigmund, his handmaiden Evangeline, and these are soldiers.”
“Decaron? Sigmund? I've never heard of them.”
“It's understandable that you wouldn't know, after so much time has passed.”
Maranello gave the old dwarf a brief overview of Decaron's history.
“Good heavens. Are you saying 500 years have passed?”
“From what you've told me, it seems so.”
“I-I can't believe it. To think we were asleep as statues for 500 years...”
“But you have returned, so isn't that what matters?”
Maranello smiled.
“Then, that demon...”
“Young Master Carlyle van Sigmund here is the one who dealt with it.”
Maranello said, gesturing to Carlyle.
“...Me?”
Carlyle pointed to himself, bewildered.
*Wink!*
Maranello winked as if to tell him to keep quiet, then spoke to the old dwarf.
“Allow me to introduce you formally. This is Young Master Carlyle van Sigmund, the second son of Grand Duke Guntram, the ruler of Decaron.”
“I, Borodin, chief of the Firehammer Tribe, express my infinite gratitude to you.”
The old dwarf bowed his head to Carlyle.
“...!”
Evangeline and Kudo's group were greatly surprised by the sight.
Dwarves were a very proud race and rarely bowed their heads.
Even if their lives were saved, they were a race that might say thank you but would make all sorts of excuses to never bend their waists.
For such a dwarf to bow his head to a human and express gratitude was nothing short of extraordinary.
“We are in no state to offer a formal reward, but we will never forget the grace of saving our tribe and will repay it for generations to come.”
Borodin knelt on one knee before Carlyle.
“We will not forget this grace.”
At that, the dwarves of the Firehammer Tribe followed suit, kneeling on one knee before Carlyle and showing respect to their savior.
*Ugh.*
Carlyle felt like he could die.
Since it was Maranello, not him, who had defeated Gorgon, his conscience pricked him unbearably as he received their thanks.
Maranello had essentially spoon-fed him the credit...
***
The dwarves quickly sorted things out, collecting the broken statue fragments and assessing the status of the survivors.
“I am truly sorry. It is only right that we treat our benefactors to food and drink, but we have nothing.”
Borodin apologized to Carlyle's party, looking troubled.
Normally, they would have held a village feast and treated Carlyle's group lavishly, but with 500 years having passed, they didn't even have immediate food supplies.
“Hmm.”
Carlyle thought for a moment, then spoke.
“Corporal Kudo.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Could you possibly send word to Decaron?”
“Word?”
“The dwarves have nothing to eat or wear right now. I'd like to request some support.”
“Ah.”
Kudo nodded in understanding.
“Then I'll have Marder go, and Wilson and I will go buy some necessities.”
“Thank you.”
“Don't mention it.”
Kudo waved his hand as if it were nothing, then turned and walked away.
“Hmm.”
Meanwhile, Borodin, chief of the Firehammer Tribe, showed great interest in Carlyle's sword.
“Why are you looking at it like that?”
“It's the sword our benefactor is wearing.”
“...?”
“If it's not too much to ask... may I take a look at it?”
“Go ahead.”
Carlyle casually unfastened Grimungandr and handed it to Borodin.
“Hmm!”
Borodin examined Grimungandr carefully and then spoke.
“This sword, is it by any chance a dwarven work?”
“No, it's not.”
Carlyle shook his head.
The Succession Swords were either made through the collaboration of a direct bloodline member of the Sigmund family and the family's blacksmith, or by improving upon an inherited one.
“The techniques used to craft this sword are clearly dwarven.”
“Huh? No...”
“In fact, they look like techniques unique to our Firehammer Tribe.”
“That can't be.”
Just then, Maranello interjected.
“That is likely the case. I have heard that the first Succession Swords were crafted by dwarves.”
“I knew it.”
Borodin nodded as if he had expected as much.
“It seems a descendant of our tribe must have made your swords and passed down the techniques.”
Borodin's gaze returned to Grimungandr.
“And this sword... it is truly remarkable.”
“What do you mean?”
“It contains a vast and great will. It may look like a piece of scrap metal on the outside, but its true worth...”
Just as Borodin was about to answer Maranello's question.
“Have you seen enough?”
Carlyle quickly snatched Grimungandr back, cutting Borodin off.
The fact that this rusty iron sword was Grimungandr was a secret even Maranello didn't know.
Not just Maranello, but the members of the Sigmund family all believed Carlyle's Succession Sword was the [Wanderer], made by an ancestor named Rompen.
“From now on, the Firehammer Tribe will craft your family's swords.”
“What?”
“We have a connection from our ancestors, and you are the benefactor who saved our tribe. This is the least we can do. The Firehammer Tribe will serve you and your family, repaying this debt for generations.”
“You don't have to go that far...”
The hatchling suddenly poked its head out.
“Yahoo! I have dwarves now too!”
“...!”
Spotting the hatchling, Borodin froze like a mouse before a cat.
“A... a d-dra...”
“What, you got a problem? First time seeing a dragon?”
“D-dra...”
“Lower your eyes! How dare a dwarf stare. Haaaaaak!”
“Gah!”
Borodin suddenly collapsed with a thud.
*Tremble...!*
His whole body trembled like a leaf, the whites of his eyes showed as they rolled back, and he was foaming at the mouth...
“Chief, Chief!”
“Are you all right?”
The dwarves who rushed over spotted the hatchling and had a fit.
“G-Great One!”
“O Dragon!”
“We humble beings greet Your Highness!”
The dwarves of the Firehammer Tribe prostrated themselves before the hatchling, bowing repeatedly.
It seemed the hatchling's claim that dragons were the natural enemy of dwarves was no empty boast.
***
After it was revealed that Carlyle was the hatchling's master, the dwarves' treatment of him became even more reverent.
They already saw him as their savior, but learning he was the master of a dragon amplified their awe.
*Why are they acting like this?*
Watching the dwarves bow and scrape, not even daring to look at him, Carlyle realized that the fear of dragons imprinted on their genes was beyond imagination.
Just as the hatchling had said, dwarves couldn't stand tall before a dragon.
The idea that the relationship between dragons and dwarves was that of predator and prey, a law of nature, felt palpably real.
“Then what's a dragon's natural enemy?”
“You think we have natural enemies?”
“Fair point.”
“Of course, we're not completely without them.”
“So you do have them?”
“Dragonslayers.”
“Dragonslayers?”
“Beings born to kill dragons.”
“Is there a race like that?”
“A dragonslayer isn't a race. It's more like an innate talent.”
“...?”
“A dragonslayer can be a dwarf, an elf, or a human.”
“Ah.”
“You know, those stories about a hero slaying an evil dragon.”
“Yeah.”
“Those are probably stories about dragonslayers. Beings who can kill an adult dragon are extremely rare.”
“So you do have a natural enemy?”
“As long as we don't cause trouble.”
“...?”
“Dragonslayers are a result of a dragon's karma. You could call them a punishment from the gods for dragons who abuse their innate power and commit evil deeds.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It's a thing, trust me.”
After saying that, the hatchling started bullying the dwarves.
“What are you doing? Hurry up and bring me shiny things! Do I have to get angry?”
“P-please wait just a moment!”
The dwarves ran off at full speed somewhere and returned with a pile of shiny accessories and gems, which they offered to the hatchling.
“Hmph. They're not great, but I'll accept them out of consideration for your effort.”
“Thank you, O Dragon!”
“But next time, bring a proper tribute. Otherwise, I'll gobble you all up.”
“As you command!”
“Good, good.”
As the hatchling pretended to be magnanimous in sparing them, the dwarves bowed repeatedly, looking immensely grateful.
*This is straight-up extortion.*
Carlyle inwardly shook his head but didn't say anything to the hatchling.
It was a predator-prey relationship according to the laws of nature; what could he say about it?
It was the same principle as a tiger eating a deer.
***
As usual, Grand Duke Guntram was concentrating on his work in his office when he received an unexpected report and set down his quill.
“Hmm.”
The Grand Duke doubted his own ears.
He couldn't believe the report that had just come in, so he needed to confirm it once more.
“Say that again.”
“Yes, Your Grace. Young Master Carlyle...”
“So, you're telling me that not only did the boy discover several mines in the Merel Mountains, but he also defeated an ancient demon and saved a tribe of dwarves? And now he's requesting support troops and supplies to help said tribe?”
“It is an undeniable fact that such a report was submitted.”
“I just don't...”
Grand Duke Guntram simply could not understand.
“I will go see for myself. Make the preparations.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The Grand Duke decided to go in person.
The report was so hard to believe that he felt he had to see it with his own two eyes to be sure...