Chapter 120: The Fourth Slave, Azyeth Priana
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 120: The Fourth Slave, Azyeth Priana
When the council meeting ended, only a few remained in the chamber.
Ulgdar.
Thorvar.
Wolfram.
And me.
Perhaps I had made a good impression during the meeting, because Wolfram extended a hand for a handshake.
“A pleasure. I am Wolfram Khan.”
“Allow me to introduce myself again. I am Karami.”
I took his hand.
This old dwarf’s hand was no joke.
As a blacksmith, his hand was incredibly rough and firm, but more than anything, its thickness was extraordinary. It felt at least twice the size of mine.
“You surprised me back there. It’s no easy feat to state your case among dwarves. When I saw you pretending to chug that drink, I was almost fooled myself.”
“Next time, I’ll strive to fool you as well, Sir Wolfram.”
“Hahaha! I like your spirit, young man. Thorvar has brought back a very interesting fellow.”
Wolfram let out a hearty laugh.
“So, you brought back Thorvar’s missing daughter, did you? Bringing back that little hellion… that must have been quite the task.”
“It just sort of happened that way.”
“Don’t try to be modest now. I’ve already confirmed you’re not the kind of fool who leaves things to chance.”
Squeeze.
Suddenly, Wolfram’s grip tightened.
My pathetic hand was crushed without resistance.
The air around Wolfram grew heavy.
“Slave trader, what are you after in Doomheim?”
His demeanor was a perfect trifecta of strict, solemn, and serious. Though he was short and had to look up at me, which wasn’t the most imposing picture, his sharp, clear eyes held a power that rivaled any young man’s.
It was a look that said a half-assed excuse would never work.
If I tried to bluff my way through this, my hand would surely be pulverized as if caught in a hydraulic press. I had to protect my dear right hand.
“I wish to borrow the flame from the Heart of Magmora.”
“And what do you plan to use it for?”
“There is a slave I must meet. I will use it for her.”
“…”
There was nothing wrong with trying to save a poor soul, was there? In fact, filled with the pride of doing something righteous, I met Wolfram’s gaze head-on.
“I don’t know whether to call this romantic or insane…”
“Let’s call it pure love.”
“You really do have a silver tongue.”
As if he had no other choice, Wolfram released his grip. I massaged my freed hand. He had squeezed so hard that a vivid red handprint remained.
“Approaching Thorvar is certainly the surest way to get the flame. He is, after all, the one in charge of Magmora.”
I knew.
Thorvar Drak, the Regulator of the Flame.
While one could earn the flame by solving the other Meisters’ problems and going through Thorvar, he was the direct route.
“Thorvar, what do you say to giving him the flame?”
“You know as well as I do, Wolfram. Never in history have we given the flame to an outsider.”
“Times change, and so do things like this. Just as you plan to install railways for the good of the dwarves.”
“…”
Thorvar looked down at the floor, lost in thought. After a long moment of contemplation, he seemed to have made up his mind and looked at me.
“…Very well. I will lend you the flame.”
“Wow.”
“On one condition. I do not yet trust you, so you will take a companion with you.”
A companion? That was even better.
My destination was so treacherous that I needed an escort anyway. If it was someone chosen by a Meister, I wouldn’t have to worry about their combat prowess.
I accepted readily.
“I can live with that. Once the job is done, I’ll release Miss Perka as promised.”
“Tsk.”
A few days passed, and after thorough preparations, I set off for Eisengar with the dispatched party.
It was time to get cozy with the fourth main slave.
*
“Achoo!”
Cozy, my ass.
I was going to freeze to death before that ever happened.
Eisengar, the land of permafrost.
After ascending from Doomheim to the surface and heading north, its majesty quickly revealed itself.
The sky was shrouded in ashen clouds, and the sunlight that filtered through was faint, stripped of all warmth. A snowfield that could freeze even hope itself stretched to the horizon.
The raging blizzard was so painful it felt like I was inhaling sharp shards of ice with every breath.
My feet sank deep into the ground with every step, burying me up to my knees and making walking a struggle. And above all else…
“Achoo! Ugh, it’s so damn cold…”
It was fucking cold.
In the unnatural arctic temperatures, my body betrayed my will, trembling uncontrollably like an aspen tree.
I had thought I was fully prepared, but the cold far exceeded my expectations. If not for the winter gear crafted by a dwarven artisan, I might have already become an ice pop.
A dwarf with a giant hammer slung over his shoulder turned around and shouted.
“You rotten twig! Are you shivering from a little chill like this?”
The dwarf Thorvar had mentioned, my watcher and guard, was none other than Halgran. Whether he had volunteered or been selected by Thorvar, I didn’t know.
He’d disliked me from the start and took every opportunity to peck at me.
“A little chill? I’m about to freeze to death.”
“That’s because you’re a weakling twig!”
“Our constitutions are fundamentally different.”
Dwarves had high body temperatures, compact frames that didn’t lose heat easily, and a layer of subcutaneous fat as thick as pork rind. They were optimized for enduring the cold.
Our basic physical structures were on completely different levels. I might be a weakling, but this was just unfair.
“For a man, you’ve got a long tongue! That must be why you have no shame and work as a merchant. Go on and cut your dick off!”
Why was he telling me to cut off something I’ve never even used?
Arguing with him was a losing battle.
I decided to avoid speaking to him as much as possible.
Swoosh!
The blizzard raged fiercely.
I hunched over as low as I could, hiding behind the dwarves and following in the path they cleared.
“Twig!”
Halgran’s deep, baritone voice cut through the howling wind from the front of the line.
“What are we supposed to be looking for?”
“We need to find a cave!”
“There are tons of caves. How are we supposed to find the right one in a place this vast?”
“There should be a cave where the snow doesn’t pile up!”
“What kind of elven nonsense is that? Where would you find a cave that snow doesn’t stick to in this blizzard? Was your father an elf?”
“I don’t have parents!”
“Figured as much, you bastard.”
Was this little dwarf really hitting me with a family insult out of nowhere?
Fine. Let’s do this. It was time to unleash my keyboard warrior skills, honed over many years of gaming…
“Chief! Over there!”
Just as I was about to open my frozen mouth, a shout cut me off. A dwarf pointed to a spot in the snowfield. Through the heavy snowfall, a large hill was faintly visible.
While everything else was blanketed in white by the swirling blizzard, the hill alone maintained a deep blue hue. Snow fell on it but vanished without a trace.
And at the base of that hill, a dark opening was visible. It looked like a cave.
“What in the world is that?”
“What do you think? It’s the cave where snow doesn’t stick. Can’t you see it because you’re too short? Need a piggyback ride?”
“You twig! You must not have learned to respect your elders since you have no parents!”
“I don’t listen to anyone shorter than me. Stop talking nonsense and let’s go.”
I thought I heard Halgran shouting something, but maybe because he was so short, I couldn’t hear him from here.
We pushed through the blizzard and entered the cave at the foot of the hill. There was no snow inside, but a bone-chilling cold seeped into my skin.
A sharp, stabbing pain washed over me, as if I were being repeatedly jabbed with an awl. It felt like a level of cold far beyond what human words could describe.
When I breathed out, my white breath instantly turned into ice pellets and fell to the ground.
“W-wait a minute. I-it’s t-too cold in here, isn’t it?”
“This isn’t an ordinary cold. Magic? No, it’s closer to a curse. What is this place?”
Halgran gestured to one of his dwarven subordinates. Just as the dwarf was about to cast a spell, I stopped him.
“No magic. It will leave a trace.”
“A trace? Who would come looking for us here?”
“There are… things. We could all be in danger if we’re not careful. Instead of wasting time, let’s just finish our business and get back.”
“Hmph! For someone about to freeze to death, you’re quite arrogant. Here, wrap yourself in this!”
Halgran tossed me the outer coat he had slung over his shoulder. I didn’t refuse. I wrapped the coat around my body like a blanket.
“Oh.”
It was incredibly warm.
It was obvious at a glance that this was no ordinary fur coat; it was clearly made of a special material. On top of that, it was personally crafted by a Meister blacksmith, so its effect was, needless to say, extraordinary.
No wonder you’re not as cold, wearing something like this.
The chill that had been gnawing at my organs subsided. The cold was so intense that the relief was minor, but right now, I was grateful for even that.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, you bastard. I’m only doing this because if you die, it’ll cause problems for Thorvar and his daughter. If you feel well enough to live, then walk.”
“A tsundere dwarf… might be more charming than I thought?”
“What is this crazy bastard talking about? In all my life, I’ve never seen someone worse than an elf.”
We lit our torches and began to venture deeper into the cave.
“There’s a slave in a place like this? Is she cryogenically frozen or something?”
“You’ll see.”
I didn’t explain further.
They were about to see for themselves.
As we went deeper, the cave’s appearance changed. The rough cavern gave way to a place where ice that shone like blue jewels covered every surface. It was bizarrely beautiful.
And amidst the smaller ice crystals, set into one of the walls, was a massive crystal. Curled up inside it, a girl was sleeping.
“Whoa…”
A gasp escaped someone’s lips.
Without needing to pinpoint who, murmurs of awe rippled through the group. A series of dumbfounded gasps was all that could be heard, as if they had all turned into idiots.
It wasn’t their fault. She was beautiful enough to wipe every thought from one’s mind.
Beauty.
No other word was needed.
It was as if the word itself had been defined just for her.
An ice princess, as white as snow and as blue as winter.
[Princess Azyeth Priana, Who Knows Not of Spring]
She was the fourth main slave.