Chapter 80
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 80
Chapter Title: The Dwarven Envoy
I showed Giuseppe the letter from the dwarf nation.
"What should we do about this?"
"Hmm... I've never dealt with anything like this before..."
Even Giuseppe was at a loss?
This was serious.
A moment later, Giuseppe spoke up.
"The Dean might know something about it."
"Ah."
That made perfect sense.
An elf like Dean Magarta might even remember the days when dwarves and humans mingled freely.
Or she could personally know a few dwarves.
That was the perk of living for centuries.
And so, I scheduled a meeting with the Dean.
Inside her office.
The Dean stood by the window, gazing out over the capital's skyline.
She slowly turned her head to look at me.
Her blue eyes pierced right through me.
"I was just about to summon you. Perfect timing."
The Dean slid a paper contract across the desk toward me.
"Could your workshop supply us with paper on a regular basis?"
I quickly skimmed the contract.
It outlined periodic imports of a set quantity of paper to the Magic Tower.
No major issues there.
"Of course, Dean."
This was exactly what I wanted.
"Good answer."
The Dean gave a faint smile.
She filed the signed contract in her drawer and continued.
"So. What's this about?"
"Well, actually..."
Magarta Magica mulled over the letter's contents.
'What in the world...?'
She knew this kid had a knack for stirring up trouble.
Like flying through the skies with the Emperor during the last Harvest Festival.
But this was on a whole different level.
[Thus, we are convinced you are one of our kin who flowed into human society in the aftermath of the Northern War.]
'Those shorties... Have they been holed up in caves so long their eyes have gone bad?'
"What should we do about this...?"
Isaac asked her.
The Dean stared blankly at him.
"..."
Suspension.
How incredible must that hunk of metal be for the dwarves—world's best at steelmaking—to mistake him for one of their own?
'Should've paid more attention back then.'
She clicked her tongue inwardly.
In her centuries of life, she'd reached the pinnacle of magic, but she'd dismissed steelmaking and mechanical engineering as dwarf territory and kept her distance.
'If I'd invested just ten years, I wouldn't be in this mess.'
Of course, even if she had learned it, her elven nature would've made her lose interest and quit soon enough.
The Dean finally spoke to Isaac.
"By dwarven custom, this letter..."
Isaac swallowed hard.
"...shows tremendous goodwill toward you. They truly believe you're a lost kinsman and are worried for you."
"...So what happens to me? Do the dwarves kidnap me or something?"
"Nothing like that will happen."
At this point, any move against 'Isaac Uphills' would be tantamount to a declaration of war on the Magic Tower and the Imperial Palace.
The Dean went to her bookshelf and pulled out an old parchment tome, handing it to Isaac.
"Study up on dwarven customs and history with this."
"Do I need to reply to the letter?"
"Too late. With their tempers, they've probably already set out the moment they sent it."
A delegation would likely show up at the Magic Tower's main gate in a few days.
'Gotta beef up security starting tomorrow.'
Isaac responded to the Dean's words.
"They're fast."
"They're always in a rush—except when hammering steel."
"...Are elves and dwarves on bad terms or something?"
"..."
The Dean pondered how to answer that.
She was the last elf left in the world.
So how was she supposed to respond to a question about elf-dwarf relations?
A moment later, she replied.
"A bit rocky."
If Isaac hadn't asked, she wouldn't have answered at all.
...This kid really knew nothing about history.
The Dean said,
"A School Head might come looking for you, so you'd best head out."
"Got it."
Isaac bowed politely to the Dean.
"Thank you for your help."
"See you."
"Yes, ma'am."
Isaac took the book and left the office.
Click.
As the door closed, the Dean walked to the window and gazed toward the Empire's northeast.
Beyond the distant horizon lay the Steel Mountains, the dwarves' stronghold.
The Dean immediately sent a magical message to the Imperial Princess.
-'Your Highness. Do you have a moment?'
-'It's nothing urgent, but it seems the Steel Mountains have their eyes on our Uphills folk.'
The odds of Isaac leaving the Magic Tower were practically zero, but it never hurt to prepare thoroughly.
I sat at my desk in the lab and opened the book the Dean had given me.
[Imperial Year 63. The first Great Beast Invasion began...]
"Whoa..."
The first line was already a brick wall.
Why did every history book in this world have to be like this?
I boldly skipped the history section and flipped to the part on dwarven daily life.
[Dwarves. Average height 4.5 feet.]
...That was 137 centimeters.
[Muscular, sturdy builds. They take pride in their thick beards and hair.]
"Got it."
It matched the fantasy dwarves I knew pretty well.
Masters of steelmaking and mechanical engineering, stubborn as mules, currently residing in the Steel Mountains in the continent's northeast.
[They also never make false promises and consider wasting time a grave sin.]
"That's what the Dean meant."
It reminded me of that philosopher who loved strolling.
...Thinking an entire race was like that gave me a headache.
But that thought didn't last—the pages wouldn't turn anymore.
This was my limit for cultural studies.
My brain felt like it was about to sprout mice.
"...Maybe a short break?"
Just one hour on floating stone research, then back to dwarves.
Perfect plan.
Next thing I knew, after tinkering with the airship's magic circuits for a 'quick' session, I checked the clock...
Six hours had flown by.
"What the heck."
Had I absentmindedly cast gravity magic on the clock or something?
No way.
A moment later, rhythmic knocks echoed as Anna entered the lab.
"What? Bro, you skipped dinner to mess with floating stones again?"
"No, I was just looking at them for a bit."
"Liar."
She had a sixth sense like a ghost...
How'd she know?
Then.
Knock knock.
Another knock.
This time, it wasn't Anna.
Who could it be?
No one should be visiting at this hour.
A bit uneasy, I gave a fake name first.
"Howard here. What is it?"
-"..."
No response from outside.
"Hearing things...?"
I opened the door, but the hallway was empty.
Maybe I'd imagined it. As I went to close it, a gruff voice came from my feet.
"Down here."
I startled and looked down.
Someone was standing there.
Small stature like Anna's.
But broad shoulders and a thick brown beard braided at the chin.
Anybody could tell—this was a dwarf.
"...You must be from the delegation."
"Aye."
The dwarf gave a curt reply and strode right into the lab.
Guess hating time-wasters wasn't just talk.
As he scanned the lab, his eyes locked onto Anna.
His eyes went wide.
"Oho... By the gods. What ageless beauty. Did you hit a reverse-aging curse in some ancient ruin...?"
"Me?"
Anna pointed at herself in confusion.
The dwarf slowly approached her and extended a calloused hand.
"Aye. Who else? The genius behind that design."
Anna hesitantly offered her hand, and the dwarf pumped it up and down vigorously.
Her small frame bobbed like a paper doll.
"Eek...!"
"Pleased to meet ya. I'm Vulcan, head of the delegation from the Steel Mountains. At last, comrade, we meet."
"I-I'm Anna! Anna Uphills!"
Anna shrieked her reply.
Suddenly.
Vulcan's hand froze.
He looked up at her quizzically.
"...Not Isaac?"
"No! That's obviously a guy's name!"
"..."
I hurriedly wedged myself between them.
"Actually, I'm Isaac."
Vulcan slowly turned to me.
"You're Howard."
"...Actually, I'm Isaac."
"Lies. Say you have giantism and you're a dwarf—even then, your jaw wouldn't be that sharp."
"Pardon?"
I pondered his words.
Giantism. Jaw.
Gigantism enlarges the jaw and extremities, they say.
'So... if I had gigantism, my jaw would be thicker, but it's not, so I'm not Isaac?'
What a roundabout line of reasoning.
Logical, but weird.
I told Vulcan,
"Isn't there a simpler way to settle this?"
"What."
"Isaac Uphills isn't a dwarf."
Ha!
Vulcan scoffed.
"Bull. A human did that design? Might as well say a troll wrote poetry. More believable."
"..."
Whether he believed I was Isaac or not didn't matter.
I was me, name or no name.
But he'd just dismissed our workshop's efforts—mine included.
'Dwarves don't break promises.'
I said to him,
"If you're so sure, let's make a bet."
"A bet?"
"Stake everything you have."
"...Don't make promises lightly, whelp."
Vulcan crossed his arms and glared up at me sideways.
"Fine. If you're right, I swear on my name to forge you a weapon."
"You'd better keep that promise."
"Of course! I swear it on fire and steel."
Clang! Clang!
The Uphills workshop's power hammer pounded glowing red steel.
"..."
"..."
I'd brought Vulcan to watch the spectacle.
Clang! Clang!
With the hammer's rhythm as background music, I said to Vulcan,
"See? Told you."
"...Indeed."
"So you'll make the weapon?"
Vulcan's beard twitched as he replied.
"Aye..."
He stood frozen, staring blankly at the power hammer.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Even now, it hammered away relentlessly.
Vulcan muttered,
"...Can't fathom why you'd need me with that thing around."
His voice dripped with defeat.
"A promise is a promise."
Sweet.
One more crew member for the airship secured.
Well, technically for a weapon, but...
An airship could double as a weapon anyway.