Chapter 33
Chapter 33
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: A Pact of Silence
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In front of the collapsed mine.
Dwarves wielding shovels, pickaxes, and magic tools were digging furiously into the earth, sweat pouring down their faces.
"Hurry up!"
"They want the list of everyone who went inside first!"
"All of you, get back! We can just blast it open!"
"What? You madman! Stop him!"
The Alpenheim Mountains, which had never once collapsed in over a hundred years, had come crumbling down. It was undoubtedly the work of someone pulling the strings behind the scenes, but right now, identifying the culprit wasn't the priority.
That could wait until the incident was fully resolved. The urgent task at hand was rescuing the victims buried under the ruined tunnels.
The dwarves—fellow kin—were one thing, but the real problem was that humans visiting as guests were trapped inside as well. Guests from another ducal house, no less. If any of them died, it would spell serious trouble.
"Bring everything from the warehouse! Pour out the magic stones without holding back!"
"Ah, damn it. These are expensive... and we never even got to use them for forging weapons!"
Magic, magic tools, spirit arts, shamanism—the dwarves threw every means at their disposal into excavating the mountain. Their speed was on par with 21st-century Earth equipped with cutting-edge science and technology!
No, in some ways, they were even faster, thanks to their ability to wield the supernatural phenomenon of magic.
Magic had always been an art of near-omnipotent power, limited only by issues of reproducibility and sustainability.
They had been digging away, drenched in sweat for quite some time, when...
"What are you all doing?"
"What does it look like? Digging!"
"Just like that, out of nowhere?"
"Out of nowhere? The mine collapsed! Stop getting in the way and get lo— get lo, get..."
"Ah, so you're the rescue team."
Enri emerged from behind them, munching on a roasted whole potato—an Alpenheim specialty.
The dwarves stared in stunned disbelief as Enri, who should have been buried deep in the mine, appeared unharmed. It was as absurd as the deceased rising from their coffin at a funeral.
Dismissing it as a twin was impossible; no two humans in the world could possess such a physique.
"Y-y-you... how are you here?"
"? There was a back path inside the mine."
"A back path? What do you...?"
Of course.
No mining operation would have something like that.
Though after centuries of operation, it wouldn't be strange if ancestors had left behind a secret tunnel or two. Still, it wasn't an official route.
However.
"—Where is it?!"
Developing that tunnel would obviously be faster than brute-forcing through the collapsed shafts from above.
Underground prison of Alpenheim Castle.
Vinskar groaned as he awoke, feeling the damp, cold stone floor of the prison. He had failed. He never dreamed his meticulously prepared plan could be foiled by mere humans.
It wasn't the strength to lose to just one knight. The animated armors he created rivaled dozens of knights, and with precise timing, they could overturn the entire Alpenheim territory in an instant.
For that to be stopped by a single person...?
'Damn it...'
The demon fleeing with its tail between its legs was another issue. He should never have trusted a demon from the start. Even if demons were icons of betrayal, he hadn't expected it to bolt so readily.
As Vinskar stewed in regrets and excuses, the prison door creaked open, and a dwarf entered. Assuming it was just a jailer or guard, Vinskar didn't even glance up, lost in thought.
That is, until the dwarf set a goblet down before him.
"Why did you do it?"
"...Your Majesty."
"I never imagined you would stoop to this."
The Duke of Alpenheim.
Or, to the dwarves, a man remembered by another name more often.
Brundal Ge Bryunar.
The former dwarf king.
To all dwarves who remembered that era, he was a figure of both resentment and respect. Vinskar, an old dwarf from those times, naturally revered him.
"A contract with a demon? Vinskar, how did it come to this?"
"...If you're going to say that, you should have three hundred years ago."
"I did. Many times. And this is the result of all that agonizing?"
"—It wasn't agonizing you needed. It was a decision!"
"Vinskar..."
Vinskar roared in fury. That day, when Brundal had discarded even his clan name and begged for his life from human kings like a coward. The day he turned his back on the gods themselves, declaring himself a slave to humans just to survive.
From that moment, the dwarf race's fate had been sealed.
"Was your life so precious? Was death so terrifying? Enough to betray all your faithful kin, to bow your head for centuries! That worthless, that damned life of yours...!"
"...I."
Brundal silently filled the goblet to the brim and slid it forward before speaking.
"I merely wanted to save as many of our kin as possible."
In the end.
Brundal's choice had saved countless dwarf lives.
But at the same time.
From that instant, every dwarf's soul had died.
Dwarves who once freely expressed their art had been reduced to tools crafting only what humans ordered. It had been that way for nearly three centuries, and it would continue for centuries more.
Vinskar could never endure that reality. Not even bearing a contract with a demon, which he absolutely should not have...
"Listen. This may be the last time."
"..."
Brundal gestured to the goblet, and Vinskar lifted it, clinking it carefully against the king's in a toast. True to dwarf spirits, it burned fiercely going down.
No, even for that, the heat surging through him felt excessively intense. As Vinskar eyed the goblet suspiciously, a scorching blaze ignited in his chest.
"Gahk—!"
Poison.
Realizing it, Vinskar stared at Brundal in disbelief. But Brundal merely drained his own goblet in silence.
"My final mercy... for an old friend."
In dwarf territory.
News of an ancient dwarf contracting with a demon could not be allowed to leak.
The evidence had to be erased. Even if it meant killing a dear comrade with his own hands.
"Farewell, Vinskar."
"Y-Your... Majesty..."
Thud.
Brundal smacked his lips bitterly as Vinskar collapsed, then downed another drink. As he had said, there were days he regretted his past choices. Decades later, he had realized they were wrong.
That a head on one's shoulders didn't mean true life, that there were fates worse than death. He hadn't known then.
But what could he do? The choice was made. Unless time itself reversed, it couldn't be undone.
'Better to wait for another chance to choose... more realistically.'
That was the best he could do now.
Waiting for the day he could choose again.
Protecting the lives he had saved, clinging to existence until then.
And if that day ever came again.
Then—.
"...A demon? Really?"
"Would I lie about something like this?"
"Then this is no small matter..."
After escaping the mine, Enri immediately reported everything that had happened inside to Eve. To an outsider, it might seem like tattling, but reporting to one's superior was the basics of being a soldier. And a knight was something akin to that.
Eve listened, humming thoughtfully for a moment before fixing Enri with a gaze.
"—Today. Don't leave my side."
"Pardon?"
"I said, don't leave my side!"
"Even for the bathroom?"
"Stay with me in the bath too."
Enri puzzled over why she would say something that would ignite a non-virgin debate in a male-oriented novel, but soon learned the reason during a private audience with Brundal, who had summoned them.
"—Nothing there."
"Pardon?"
"Sir Enri. The demon contractor you mentioned, the rogue armors—none of it."
Brundal spoke awkwardly, as if embarrassed to admit it himself, yet resigned.
"There was nothing like that."
"...No, what do you mean—."
As Enri's eyes flicked to his sword hilt, ready to snap back at the tone implying he should shut up.
Eve stopped him with a beaming smile, unfurling her fan.
"—Nothing happened. Right, Duke of Alpenheim?"
"...Ah, yes."
"Exactly. Shall we say we merely entrusted the commission and left right away?"
"Y-yes, if you would."
"Of course. Now, if you could just sign here on the contract?"
Eve presented a pre-prepared contract. It stipulated mutual non-disclosure of the incident and affirmed that they had departed before the mine collapse.
Enri couldn't fathom why she offered it; it seemed entirely to their disadvantage.
Brundal scanned it briefly, found no issue, and signed.
"...I'm truly sorry."
"No need. Isn't helping each other what ducal houses do?"
Bound by the contract to leave immediately, the two boarded a train departing Alpenheim territory. Only after confirming no one else could overhear did Enri question the contract.
"Milady."
"Hm?"
"Why make that contract? It's a loss for us, isn't it?"
"A loss? How?"
"We got nothing and just backed off. It's not like you, milady."
"Got nothing? What are you talking about?"
Eve pulled out the signed contract from the Alpenheim Duke.
"This contract is the treasure."
"...The contract is treasure?"
"Of course."
Don't speak of today's events.
To anyone.
What treasure was there in that?
As Enri tilted his head in confusion, Eve—delighted by her knight's rare insight—explained patiently.
"It looks like a loss now. But what if the royal family learns of this contract's existence?"
"What happens?"
"...A rift forms between the royals and Alpenheim."
Of course, that alone offered no gain.
A dent in trust between Alpenheim and the crown wouldn't cost the dwarves their positions, nor would the royals pressure Alpenheim further.
The Claudia house gained nothing from sowing discord there.
However.
If the goal was division itself, it was different.
"For example—."
Suppose.
War erupted within the kingdom.
In a chaos where friend and foe blurred.
If the royals discovered a suspicious contract between Claudia and Alpenheim.
If they learned Alpenheim desperately hid something from the crown.
Could they still trust Alpenheim then?
That tiny gap, that slender crack—that was what Eve aimed for.