Chapter 124: The Dwarven Way of Communication (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 124: The Dwarven Way of Communication (1)
Our tour of the city continued today.
It was time to broaden Azyeth’s world, which until now had been nothing but a cramped block of ice. I had to teach her so many things, as she was lacking in every way.
The direction of Azyeth’s story was different from the other slaves.
While Mirabelle, Alfia, and Rin’s stories focused on the growth of their abilities, Azyeth’s would center on the growth of her spirit.
She needed to consistently interact with others and melt away the frozen parts of herself. I had to save the princess who had been turned into a snowman by a curse.
There was a reason Azyeth’s story was unfolding in Doomheim. After all, nothing could break down a wall of ice better than the dwarves’ fire.
So I thought.
‘Where, and what, would be the best thing to do?’
Something that could utilize Azyeth’s unique traits while allowing her to blend in smoothly with others. Naturally, one thing came to mind.
I took Azyeth to the mine where the railroad construction had begun. With Azyeth by my side, I didn’t need to try to attract attention.
The dwarves stopped their work to stare at us. Scanning them, the corners of my mouth lifted in an ‘I knew it’ sort of smile.
“Everyone, are you perhaps feeling hot?”
“Fuckin’ hell. You askin’ ‘cause you don’t know? Are you blind? Can’t you see us drippin’ with sweat?”
“You here to mess with us?”
“Haha, of course not. I’ve simply come to bestow a blessing upon you all.”
I ignored the murderous glares of the dwarven miners and turned to Azyeth. Despite the sweltering heat of the mine, it was simply cold standing next to her.
“Princess, would you not bestow your mercy upon these poor people?”
“Why…?”
“Swinging a pickaxe is very hard work, so they sweat. Sweating makes one feel sticky and unpleasant. You’re going to give them a bit of your cold.”
Azyeth flinched, then lowered her gaze and muttered.
“Everyone… hates the cold…”
It seemed she was still bothered by the incident where she turned Fluffy into Stiffy and froze the roses.
Right now, Azyeth’s intelligence was comparable to a child’s. And children first learn to read their parents’ expressions. It’s a biological instinct for survival.
I thought I had done a decent job of helping her relax, but it seemed that wasn’t enough.
“You don’t have to worry. I’m sure they’ll love it. Please, trust me and give it a try.”
After some hesitation, Azyeth reluctantly nodded. She stretched out her hands and cast her magic.
Whooosh.
A wind began to blow. A chilly wind, unique to winter.
Small snowflakes began to fall from the ceiling.
Winter had come to the mine.
“Ooh! It’s snowing!”
“Dammit, what is this wind! My body… it’s getting colder! Uoooooh!”
The dwarves’ sweat quickly evaporated.
The heat that filled the mine subsided.
There was no need to worry about them catching a cold.
Dwarves generate as much heat as their bodies lose.
Hot on the inside, cold on the outside. It was just like turning on the air conditioner in the summer and crawling under the covers.
“To think we can work in such cool conditions! In an environment like this, I could work for hours!”
“What are you doing! Thank the princess!”
“Thank you, Princess!”
Their shouts echoed thunderously through the mine. The dwarves went back to digging the earth, forging a path and laying down tracks.
Their movements, including the swings of their pickaxes, were much lighter than before.
“See? They all say they like it because it’s cool.”
“It’s strange…”
“I won’t deny that.”
Dwarves are a peculiar race, after all.
“Still, those weren’t empty words, nor were they white lies.”
Dwarves are a pure, childlike race. Show them goodwill, and they’ll act like a tsundere, crafting you some fitting gear and tossing it to you, claiming they just ‘found it on the way.’ Show them malice, and they’ll smash your head in with a hammer.
‘Now that I think about it, this is so unfair.’
I bring my ‘daughter’ here to help with the labor and get treated like a villain, while Azyeth does nothing and gets treated like a princess.
Such blatant lookism.
“Shall we stop by occasionally to cool them down?”
Azyeth stared intently at the dwarves working with renewed vigor before finally nodding.
*
There’s a place you must visit if you come to Doomheim.
The Drunkard’s Keg.
It’s a tavern that dwarves unfailingly visit after a day’s work. As befitting a race that loves alcohol, Doomheim has many pubs, but the most famous is undoubtedly the Drunkard’s Keg.
Because it’s far too small to accommodate everyone, aside from a few private rooms for honored guests, everyone drinks at outdoor tables.
Dwarves operate on the principle that if you can hold your liquor, you’re a friend. So, in the moment they are drinking, everyone is a friend. They all mingle and drink together with no sense of distance between them.
There, Azyeth and I sat at a table like residents of a separate world. Azyeth, finding such a place novel, kept looking around.
“It’s incredibly loud, isn’t it?”
The Drunkard’s Keg is not my cup of tea.
For someone like me who prefers peace and quiet, The Peacock’s Night Gathering is the best.
But that didn’t mean I could skip it.
The Drunkard’s Keg has been a hotspot for various events since the game.
And for Azyeth, who needed to get involved with others and melt into a normal life, it was a mandatory visit.
Despite the loud and chaotic atmosphere of the tavern, Azyeth maintained her serene demeanor. She let out a languid yawn, her eyes holding their characteristic sleepy look.
As her chilly breath reached me, drowsiness washed over me as if by contagion, and I ended up yawning too.
“Here are the meals and two ales you ordered.”
A waitress placed the food and two frosted mugs on our table and disappeared.
“Miss Azyeth, have you ever had a drink before?”
Azyeth tilted her head so far her ear nearly touched her shoulder. It seemed she hadn’t.
While I was worried about giving Azyeth alcohol, I was also curious. People tend to reveal a side of themselves they don’t normally show when they drink.
Wasn’t it incredibly intriguing?
Just what would Azyeth show me?
I couldn’t imagine Azyeth getting drunk and rowdy, but the bigger her reaction, the better.
“Alright, let’s have a toast.”
Azyeth, not knowing the meaning of a toast, just stared blankly while holding her mug, so I clinked mine against hers.
“The unwritten rule is to down the first glass in one go.”
I downed the ale demonstratively in front of Azyeth. I finished it in one shot, without leaving a single drop.
“Kyah~”
I can’t really hold my liquor, but medieval ale isn’t very strong and is sweet enough to be drinkable. On top of that, it had a refreshing quality that washed away the fatigue from a mind and body worn down by hard labor.
Of course, I hadn’t done any work.
Anyway, that’s how refreshing it was.
Azyeth, who had been staring at the mug cupped in her hands, began to drink the ale cautiously. Her pale throat bobbed as she swallowed the ale.
She faltered once in the middle but ultimately finished it in one go. She licked her lips.
‘Wow, every single one of her gestures is infuriatingly alluring.’
Just as they say vehement denial is a form of affirmation, reaching one extreme often brings out the opposite tendency.
Azyeth was a pure white snowflake, ignorant of the world’s filth. There was no malice, no cunning in her.
For instance, if a woman sweeps her hair back or presses her chest against a man, most people would notice. They’d realize she was being foxy.
But there was none of that in Azyeth’s actions. She didn’t have a single ulterior motive.
Her unguarded actions, born from an innocent heart, were what stimulated a man’s desires. It filled me with the base urge to tease her.
Not that I should, of course.
“How is it? Is it to your liking?”
At the unfamiliar taste, Azyeth’s head wobbled back and forth like a roly-poly toy.
“Looks like you don’t feel anything yet. Well then, let’s keep drinking until it hits you!”
Just as I was about to order another round, a dwarf shouted toward our table.
“Oh! Look who it is! If it isn’t the princess and the twig!”
The approaching dwarf was someone I remembered from the Ironblood Council. It was one of the Seven Meisters, Roxar, the Shield of Earth.
“I am not a twig.”
“Gahahaha! My apologies! It’s just that what that bastard Hargran calls you is so damn catchy.”
That damn Hargran.
If anything happens in Doomheim, you can bet on him being the cause 99 times out of 100.
“What a coincidence. To think you’d come to the Drunkard’s Keg.”
“You can’t say you’ve been to Doomheim if you haven’t had a drink here.”
“Gahahahahaha! You know your stuff, lad! That’s right, it’s a must!”
“That’s why I brought the princess here and offered her a drink.”
“You one-of-a-kind son of a bitch!!!”
WHAM!
Roxar grabbed me by the collar. He lifted his arm high, but due to our height difference, my feet didn’t leave the ground.
“Wh-what is the meaning of this?”
“That’s my line! How dare you give our princess alcohol?! You plan to taint our pure princess with your filthy blackness!”
“No, don’t dwarves refuse to acknowledge anyone who doesn’t drink as a comra—”
“GRAAAGH!”
Roxar let out a thunderous roar.
Dust flew from the floor in all directions, and a chair toppled over.
“I can’t entrust the princess to a husk like you!”
“But I’m the one who brought her, and she’s my slave…”
This is so fucking unfair.
Dwarves traditionally tend to look down on humans who can’t drink. Drinking is, for them, a form of qualification.
But apparently, that didn’t apply to Azyeth.
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.
It was the dwarfs who supported the princess with all their heart and soul, never backing down from the stepmother and the witch. In the dwarves’ eyes, I, the one giving Azyeth alcohol, was the bad guy.
Shit, she’s an adult, she can have a drink.
I’m trying to raise her into a proper individual, not a fool who can’t do anything on her own.
“I’ll smash your head in right now and take the princess—!”
“Wait a minute. Let’s resolve this with words, as civilized people. Isn’t it because you get heated over every little thing that people call you mole bastards from underground who only know how to swing a hammer? For the record, I absolutely do not think that; an elf said it.”
“Words? What kind of talk can I have with a bastard who gives the princess alcohol?”
“Why, you know the one, don’t you? The Dwarven Way of Communication. Are you too stupid to even remember it? That’s what an elf I once saw said.”
Did an elf really say that?
I wasn’t sure, but from today on, they did.
Invincible Elf Shield: ON.
It would be great if I could get Azyeth’s help, but she was completely oblivious even with her master being held by the collar. For now, I had to break through this situation with my own strength.
And the only solution I could use right now.
The Dwarven Way of Communication.
“Shall we have a drinking contest to decide who’s right and who’s wrong?”