Interlude (2) - The Mountain King's Pride
“We are speaking as kings.”
“!”
“So let us set aside talk of advisors and speak of our masters instead. First, it is clear you are a far more powerful sovereign than I.”
The dwarves, born of stone, were far sturdier and more resilient than humans. Their craftsmanship was unmatched, and their knowledge of minerals unparalleled. The king of the dwarves was the wealthiest ruler in the world.
“You possess enough gold to fill rivers, and an army that even demons would fear. Your authority rivals that of any emperor.”
Yet—
“Just as you are a king, so am I. A true king never tolerates insult. This holds true whether one rules a small realm or a great empire. If you understand the sanctity of royal authority, you will grasp this easily.”
Dwarven pride in matters of honor was as renowned as the elves’ graceful yet hypocritical speech. Belladia was emphasizing that she had launched this war precisely to preserve her dignity.
“Therefore, if you are truly a just and impartial king, you should aid my vengeance rather than obstruct it. We are both kings, after all.”
…At this, the Mountain King let out a sigh. In front of the entire continent, Belladia’s rhetoric had masterfully cast herself as the blameless victim. Who could have taught her such cunning?
‘This is truly the age of humanity.’
Anyone living in the present had to acknowledge that truth. Modern diplomacy was decided by how much support one could garner from humans.
‘So if I wish to protect dwarven interests, I must be recognized by humans as a king worthy of respect.’
By dwarven standards, both Dagren—who had spoken out of turn—and Belladia—who borrowed without intent to repay—were equally at fault.
‘But if we apply human reasoning…’
More precisely—
If we apply the reasoning of human kings—
‘A merchant from one nation traveled to another and threatened its king, using the tone one might reserve for slaves bound for the market.’
In dwarven society, where commerce flourished, most would still believe debts must be repaid. But—
‘Human royalty are warriors.’
To warriors, money was trivial, but pride was worth staking one’s life upon.
‘A mere merchant dared to insult a sovereign over a financial dispute…’
Thus Belladia’s justification for war was impeccably righteous. If Nelam blocked her, he would appear as a tyrant ruling by brute force.
‘…Damn it. I’ve been completely outplayed.’
Unlike the glorious age when their ancestors divided the world with the elves, dwarves today could not afford to be seen as a savage race. They were a people in decline.
“Haha! Your words are without flaw!”
And so the dwarf king chose hearty laughter.
“On behalf of all dwarves, I shall apologize to the Queen of Essil and offer compensation. Those who dared trample upon sacred royal authority will receive the harshest punishment! How dare mere merchants threaten a sovereign? They deserve to be torn apart!”
The Mountain King displayed righteous fury to placate the humans. The human kings who had accompanied Belladia felt relief at avoiding battle with a superhuman, while also gaining the impression that dwarves were reasonable enough to resolve disputes through dialogue.
“Words alone are insufficient.”
“Our oaths are heavier than stone.”
“Then fulfill them immediately.”
The cunning child had no intention of letting the matter slide.
‘I must entrust the situation to the Runemaster.’
Nelam excelled at combat and leadership, not rhetoric. His advisor, however, was different.
“Ahem.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Matters between nations cannot be settled so lightly. Let us leave the complicated details to the officials and strengthen our friendship instead…”
Belladia smiled and nodded readily.
Her master would handle it.
A short while later, in a private chamber behind the banquet hall.
“It has been a long time, Runemaster Kainhazard.”
“So you were the mastermind behind this sinister plot.”
The elderly dwarf, whose face bore an expression of extreme stubbornness, glared at Tellorian. The Grey Sage maintained his usual relaxed smile.
“Then our demands are—”
“Write them down yourself and give them to me.”
“Hmm?”
“You’ll win the argument anyway.”
The Runemaster scowled and held out a blank sheet of paper, signaling for Tellorian to write as he pleased.
“You’re certain I may write whatever I wish?”
“You know the meaning of moderation.”
In five minutes, a peace treaty between the dwarves and the Kingdom of Essil was drafted. The dwarves assumed full responsibility for the chaos and agreed to pay reparations as an apology.
“…Isn’t this too much?”
“It is the entire fortune of the Golden Bank.”
“…”
The Runemaster merely frowned and carried the treaty to the Mountain King. Nelam let out a hollow laugh before affixing his seal.
“You are the conspirator who orchestrated everything.”
On the condition that he could meet with Tellorian.
“Not everything.”
“Then what?”
“Roughly seventy percent.”
“The remaining thirty percent is the child’s own wit.”
“Correct.”
“You raised that child?”
“Only half of it.”
“And the other half?”
“Belladia’s parents.”
At this, the Mountain King grinned and looked Tellorian up and down. He then placed a horn-shaped drinking cup on the table and departed.
◈ Any beverage imagined will fill the cup.
◈ A gift given by the Mountain King to those he wishes to befriend.
◈ Extremely delicious taste
◈ Health Recovery Rate +200%
◈ Mana Recovery Rate +200%
◈ Childbirth Rate +200%
◈ Physical Growth Rate +200%
◈ (Optional) Grants Frenzy
◈ (Optional) Grants Hallucination
◈ (Optional) Grants Ecstasy
◈ (Optional) Grants Valor
The holder is considered a friend of the Dwarf King.
Once the peace treaty was signed, various measures and repercussions followed. The Golden Bank transferred all its assets to the expeditionary force and went bankrupt. Enraged depositors rose in rebellion, overturning the regime in Goldenhold and changing the system.
“From this day forward, we are Redhold! We cast aside the evil god of finance and worship only labor!”
The merchant lords who had ruled Goldenhold were executed as reactionaries or fled in nothing but their undergarments. Their fates were grim, thanks to preparations made by Tellorian and Glorinmar.
“Did the Mountain King allow this?”
“The Mountain King never liked the merchant lords of Goldenhold either. He came to support us only because he could not bear to see a dwarven city burn.”
Other key clauses of the peace treaty guaranteed dwarves the right to trade, provided they respected local laws and paid substantial economic compensation.
“Won’t the dwarves hold a grudge?” Belladia asked with concern.
“I’ve heard they always seek revenge when their kin are harmed. Many dwarves died or were injured in the riots this time.”
Tellorian smirked.
“In theory, yes.”
By dwarven law, both he and Belladia would have been marked for death. Yet the secret to the dwarves’ continued influence lay in their surprising flexibility—by dwarven standards—in adapting to the times.
“But I received this instead.”
He held up the Horn of Abundance.
A treasure granted only to friends of the Mountain King.
“Unexpected. They’re quite stubborn.”
“Whether elf, dwarf, or dragon, all are striving to survive by adapting to change. I merely stand in a position to help them.”
He liked seeing diverse races living together. That was the charm of this world, and he hoped it would continue.
“What benefit is there in helping other races?”
“They will help you in return.”
Before long, the capital of Essil came into view.
“Other races also desire human allies.”
“…”
Belladia pulled the reins and halted her hellsteed. In the capital, hundreds of thousands of citizens had gathered, waiting with expectant eyes for their queen’s triumphant return.
“Why do they cheer for me?”
“Hmm?”
“In my childhood, whenever I killed someone, I received only curses and fear. Sometimes even hatred.”
Belladia believed her nature had not changed from then to now.
“But now I receive cheers every time I kill. What has changed?”
She had skewered every peasant who rebelled. She had cast an entire mountain orc tribe into sulfurous flames. She had driven the gold dwarves to suicide.
And she had enjoyed every moment.
She had never hidden that pleasure.
“You do not kill your own people.”
“My people are useful.”
“That is the difference.”
Ownership Transferred
Hell Knight Commander’s Harness (Hero)
Pandemonium’s Grimoire (Hero)
Bargul’s Skull (Hero)
“…You’re giving all of this to me?”
“These are relics that will help you overcome the limits you face as a black mage. I hope you discover how to use them yourself. You are my disciple, after all.”
…As Belladia accepted the gifts, doubt crept into her mind. Every time she grew as a black mage, her master found her harder to control. She had expected him to begin placing restrictions on her growth…
‘Instead, he’s giving me the chance to surpass my limits and grow explosively? What is he thinking?’
Belladia retraced her entire relationship with her master. What had he sought when he first found her, and what did he desire now?
‘At first I thought he wanted the prestige of House Harrington. But when he accepted my true nature, I believed he desired my body.’
After realizing he was asexual—or perhaps homosexual—she had become convinced he was raising her as a subordinate for world conquest.
‘Master granted intelligence to trolls and gathered orcs. He tamed a basilisk and researches suspicious magic…’
These were clear signs he sought world domination. Yet receiving these gifts stirred new suspicion. Perhaps world conquest was not what her master truly wanted…
“Master.”
She made her decision.
She would ask the question she had long held back.
“Speak, Belladia.”
“What is your true reason for taking me as your disciple?”
“To use you as a pawn.”
“No. No one gives artifacts containing the power of hell to a mere pawn without compensation.”
Belladia raised her head and looked directly at Tellorian.
“Tell me. What is your true purpose in teaching me?”