A Dwarf's Determination
“Besides, Verdin was the one who helped you craft the Seal of Fire back when he was the royal blacksmith. That probably played a part too.”
“I see.”
Rune's gaze suddenly caught sight of Heungmi as he glanced around.
She was cradling Baekya, who perched atop her head, and hustling to keep up.
Now that he noticed, Perdikion was matching his pace exactly to Heungmi's speed.
Rune stifled a chuckle inwardly at the sight.
'He was so sharp with Baekya at first, but now he knows how to be considerate. He's changed a lot in just ten years.'
But it seemed the dwarves only remembered the old Perdikion.
While he'd been talking with Verdin—the royal blacksmith—a moment ago, the other dwarves had lined up along the roadside, giving them plenty of space.
It made for easy walking, but their fear was palpable; not one dared lift their eyes.
'Wasn't he trying to mend relations with the lair's residents? I should look into it later.'
This wasn't the place to ask in the open. Rune pushed down his rising questions.
Instead, he tossed out another one.
“By the way, what were those 'reformists' and 'traditionalists' you mentioned earlier?”
“Call it the stubbornness of craftsmen.”
“Stubbornness?”
“Some want to spread dwarf-made goods and techniques to the outside world. Others insist we can't leak them carelessly.”
Isolation versus openness.
Two factions with opposing ideologies, locked in conflict.
'Hard to say which is better. It's all a matter of...'
“Perspective.”
The word slipped from Rune's lips unbidden.
Perdikion stared at him steadily in response to the casual musing.
'Was that too mature for my age? Oops.'
Rune quickly pivoted.
“...Or so Christina said, I think.”
Luckily, the deflection worked.
Perdikion nodded, murmuring, “Makes sense. Lady Christina would say that.”
Rune let out a quiet sigh of relief, patting his chest.
At the same time, he found it a bit amusing.
'Am I starting to get comfortable around this little Red Dragon kid?'
They'd shared lessons, taught each other, spent days together—it was only natural.
'But I can't let him know about my past life. Gotta be more careful.'
Rune reaffirmed his resolve just as Perdikion spoke up.
“Oh, right—there's something you should know ahead of time.”
“?”
“The Craftsmen's Grand Tournament is an event I've officially hosted for the past ten years.”
“You?”
Ten years ago was right when Rune had entered his sleep period.
The timing felt oddly coincidental, and Perdikion dropped an unexpected bombshell.
“It's thanks to you, actually.”
“Me?”
“Might be a bit of a long story.”
“Perfect—I've been bored walking. Tell me, bro.”
Perdikion nodded readily.
“Before I was even born... Dwarves were even rougher back then, more hot-blooded, stubborn, and aggressive, or so I'm told.”
Back in the days when his father Pasiyas ruled the land.
The dwarves had lost their homeland in the aftermath of the Dragon-Horse War.
The survivors fled to the Red Dragon Lair, but for the proud dwarves, it felt like utter humiliation.
And Pasiyas was a violent tyrant.
They weren't treated as craftsmen.
At best, they were refugees—mere laborers churning out weapons on demand.
It stemmed from a pact with Pasiyas too.
In exchange for a safe home, they'd craft arms whenever he demanded.
It was the price of settling in Red Dragon territory—no backing out.
“By the time I inherited the lair, their resentment had festered deep.”
Perdikion scanned the street with bitter eyes.
“And to make matters worse, I'd been ruling with the same reign of terror my father taught me—as the next Elder of the fire clan.”
'So that's why the dwarves fear Perdikion so much.'
The lingering puzzle clicked into place.
Rune nodded silently, and Perdikion continued.
“But Rune, after our lessons together, I wanted to change my ways. Just like you said, I started thinking about how the dwarves felt.”
Recalling those struggles, Perdikion let out a low sigh.
“Turning their rotten hearts around was incredibly tough. Some even suspected ulterior motives.”
His steps slowed.
“Eventually, I realized I needed to restore their pride as craftsmen—the one thing they craved most.”
“And that became the Craftsmen's Grand Tournament?”
They passed an alley, and his pace picked up a bit.
“Yes. That's when Verdin helped me out. The others were uncooperative even for the first tournament. But it ended up a success.”
'Hooh.'
Rune eyed him with fresh appreciation.
“Must've been tough. How'd you convince them?”
“I offered one of my scales as the grand prize. Dwarves play with fire and ore like toys—they can't resist a dragon scale.”
To the dwarves, it was unthinkable.
A dragon doing something for them, not through force, but persuasion.
'The lair's lord, who'd ruled by strength, giving up part of his body—and prime material any craftsman would kill for. Smart way to ease resentment.'
Rune finished his thoughts and praised him sincerely.
“Impressive, bro. That's cool.”
“Ahem. Only because I got a good little brother.”
'Humble too, now? He's growing up well.'
Perdikion's cheeks flushed faintly—he didn't seem to mind the recognition.
But he quickly reverted to his usual expression.
Anyone else would've thought they'd imagined it.
“The smarter dwarves all know. They say I changed because of you, my brother. They think you've restored their race's pride.”
“What? But that's...”
“Not wrong, in my view.”
Rune's face twisted oddly as Perdikion cut him off.
The benefactor who restored their pride.
The one who changed the ferocious Red Dragon's mind.
But Rune read the unspoken side.
'It was easier for me—a total outsider with no grudge history—to win them over than for Perdikion, who'd tyrannized them.'
In truth, Perdikion's efforts made it possible.
Yet the dwarves directed gratitude to Rune, while resenting the Red Dragon as their old foe.
That was the price of his past tyranny—a problem he'd have to steadily fix.
'If they truly appreciated him, they wouldn't cower like that.'
That's why Perdikion gave him the Seal of Fire and made him his sworn brother.
A young Black Dragon hatchling, dragon nonetheless, who'd earned the dwarves' goodwill.
His bond as Perdikion's fire-sworn brother could give them reason to truly follow their new ruler.
“You worked hard, bro. At least I'm glad I could help.”
It was the best he could say for now, sadly. But Perdikion nodded.
“Yeah. Anything you need from this tournament—gear, whatever—just say the word. It's not just my favor; it's their repayment too.”
'Not just weapons—could even recruit dwarves for the Abandoned Mine Dungeon if I play it right.'
Volunteers repaying a debt would flock in.
Better than conscripts under Perdikion's order—far preferable for Rune.
A card worth playing.
“So, which faction's forge are we heading to first?”
“Traditionalists. We'll swing by the reformists' workshop after.”
“Got it?”
Curiosity struck Rune.
“You got a side you're rooting for, bro?”
“Not really.”
Perdikion paused briefly before adding,
“Their convictions run too deep. Even fiercer rivalry. Once, a tavern brawl between factions wrecked furniture and torched a couple buildings.”
Just then, a dwarf stood arms crossed in front of the smithy ahead, scanning around.
Spotting them, his eyes widened; he bellowed something inside.
“Pick a side, and they'll brawl on the spot. Best not mention the other faction around them.”
The nuance: it'd be a headache if sparks flew.
'Overheated competition, huh.'
Unlike Perdikion's worry, Rune quite liked it.
Fighters who'd bicker over righteousness were bound to be combative.
Reform versus tradition.
Clashing prides of opposing leaders.
With rare Red Dragon scales on the line.
The winner's faction would surge in power and support—crucial stakes.
'Gotta fan the flames for the competitive ones.'
Craftsmen bursting with skill pride.
They'd do anything to defend it.
'Time to up the prize pot.'
Rune toyed with his wrist.
Visible hierarchy fueled rivalry.
Irresistible prizes? Even more.
'Let the dwarves show off—I'll reap the rewards!'
A grin tugged at his lips.
Rune smoothed it away and turned to Perdikion.
“Bro, mind if I make a proposal?”
“Go ahead.”
Perdikion's eyes widened at Rune's suggestion.
After a brief ponder, he agreed—it'd benefit the dwarves too.
'Perfect.'
Dwarves would sort themselves out.
Prizes came to him.
Just play kindling, and they'd blaze, yielding top gear and materials.
***
The roar of bellows, spinning waterwheels, bellowed shouts, and clanging metal filled the air in a chaotic symphony.
Heungmi, craning her neck to gaze at the building's peak, exclaimed in awe.
“Whoa, it's huge!”
“Peep!”
The smithy was enormous.
Excited, Baekya flapped wildly, nearly reaching the flag atop before nestling back in Heungmi's arms.
A burly dwarf—likely their guide—eyed them stoically, lips twitching.
Then, with a face like he was attempting the impossible for the first time, he spoke.