A Badass Weapon
Honestly, when Duke Luvheim of the South demanded to take Larmor back, his reaction had been excessively violent.
It wasn't just the reaction of someone who had their fatal weakness exposed; it felt more like he was being robbed of a uniquely valuable asset.
So, just in case.
With absolutely no expectations, I had brought the boy along just to see.
But looking at Velmut's reaction now, it seemed Larmor hadn't been bluffing.
"You. Come here for a second. Where did you say the problem was? Say that again."
Velmut, the mages, and the magic engineers crowded around Larmor, guiding him toward the magic circle.
Larmor pointed at several spots on the magic circle with his tiny hand and began to explain something with intense focus.
Naturally, I had no hope of understanding a single word of what they were saying, so I could only stand by and watch in silence.
For three whole hours, the mages talked without pause, scribbling formulas, making corrections, laughing, and clapping their hands. Finally, they let Larmor go.
Velmut walked back to me with Larmor, shaking his head in sheer disbelief.
"He's a genius."
"Really?"
"Not just any genius. His brain is wired completely differently."
"So he has the makings of a great mage?"
"No, that's not what I mean. His magical talent is practically zero. He can't feel mana at all."
My brow furrowed. The kid had claimed to be a magic genius, so what the hell was this about?
"Make sense, Velmut. If his magical talent is zero, how was he babbling about those formulas?"
"He lacks the ability to cast actual magic, but his theoretical talent is absurd. He has an extraordinary ability to comprehend formulas and grasp the structural characteristics of magic circles just by looking at them. He lacks formal training, so he couldn't explain it perfectly, but our brief conversation just now improved the magic circle's efficiency several times over."
"Seriously?"
"We'll have to handle the fine-tuning, but his insight is incredible. Give him a few years of proper education, and he'll become an unbelievable theorist."
Despite being a mere brat, Larmor didn't even try to hide how high his nose was in the air. He looked a bit cocky, but hearing Velmut's praise, the kid had earned the right to be.
"I want to teach him, Volka. Will you give me permission? I won't let it interfere with the magic circle research. We can take turns teaching him in the evenings after work. I've never coveted a student this much before, Volka."
It was a sincere request, but I looked at Larmor with a conflicted expression.
Larmor wasn't a citizen of the North yet. He was just a child, but he might have to return to the South one day.
One year.
Once we finished squeezing the defense contributions out of the South over the next year, they would demand Larmor's return.
They would likely use aggressive, coercive measures to get him back.
If Larmor returned to the South and started talking, he could expose the North's critical secrets and weaknesses.
When I didn't answer immediately, Larmor crept up to my side and tugged on my trousers.
"Can't I just keep living in the North? See? I told you I'm useful. I never want to go back to the South. I never want to see my disgusting father or the mother I want to kill ever again. I'll work hard for the North. Please?"
He was a sharp kid. Perhaps it was due to his extraordinary intellect.
Now I understood why Duke Luvheim had kept this child alive, despite him being his most terrible shame and potential weakness. He hadn't wanted to lose such talent.
And neither did I.
Now that I knew the extent of his genius, I had no intention of letting him go. His talent would undoubtedly be a massive asset to the reconstruction of the North.
I knelt down to meet Larmor's gaze.
"Why the North? That's what I want to know. I value talent, but I value loyalty even more, Larmor. Nothing endangers an organization faster than a brilliant mind with half-hearted loyalty."
Larmor smirked at my words.
"Let me ask you a question in return. Why are you protecting the beastmen, Your Grace? Honestly, if you abandoned the North and the beastmen, you could live a comfortable life in the capital as a war hero. Why invite unnecessary hardship and danger upon yourself?"
"Because I have to. They might be my subordinates on paper, but they are comrades who fought by my side for over ten years. And this is my family's land. It's not a relationship that can be calculated by simple profit and loss."
"That. That exact reason is why I want to stay in the North. The West, the East, and the South are glamorous and have solid foundations. But they don't have a leader like you. They are viper nests where even the most brilliant talents are discarded the moment the math doesn't add up."
A bitter smile played on Larmor's lips—one filled with resentment, anger, and hatred so deep it made me wonder if it belonged on a child's face.
"The imperial authority is wavering, the succession is unclear, and the West, South, and East are trying to break away. The Kramkin Principality and the Kingdom Alliance want to see the Empire fall, and the Karvark Empire is watching us like a hawk. The coming era will be one of chaos. Anyone with eyes and ears can see that."
Is this kid really nine? Are these the words of a child?
As I let out a dry laugh of sheer disbelief, Larmor looked up at me and continued speaking clearly.
"I need a reliable guardian. Not someone who will throw me away the moment things get difficult or inconvenient. And you seem like the kind of person who won't abandon his people just because the going gets tough. Throughout human history, leaders like you have always been rare."
"Just how old are you?"
"It has been thirty-one days since my ninth birthday. The North's infrastructure and current situation are poor, but in the long run, with a leader like you, it has the potential to become stronger than any other region. I believe that is reason enough for me to pledge my loyalty. Don't you agree?"
Larmor extended his hand to me.
"Let's make a deal. Make me one of your people. Protect me, guard me, and do not abandon me when things get bad or when external pressure mounts. If you do that, I am entirely yours. I will dedicate my talent to the North."
Watching from the side, Velmut let out a chuckle.
"I don't think this is a child."
"My thoughts exactly, Velmut. Our little brat here has a silver tongue."
I laughed and firmly shook Larmor's hand.
"Deal. You are one of my people now. Work hard for the North, Larmor."
A smile spread across Larmor's face.
"One more condition. I hope to have sweet snacks at least once a day. I was locked up in the South, so my snacks were strictly controlled. I believe you need to eat sweet things to keep your brain working well."
"I'll see what I can do, you cheeky brat."
"Then I can stay here and keep talking to the mages and studying, right?"
I looked at Velmut, who nodded with a pleased expression.
"Thank you, Your Grace! I shall serve you with all my loyalty from now on—"
As Larmor immediately tried to bow in formal etiquette, I stopped him.
A ten-year-old... no, a nine-year-old kid. What the hell was I doing?
"Just call me Uncle Volka. That's better. 'Your Grace' sounds too stiff. You can call me that when you're all grown up, but for now, just call me Uncle. Uncle."
"Understood, Uncle!"
"Keep up the good work, Larmor."
After patting the kid's head, I left the banquet hall.
Duke Luvheim. He must be sweating bullets right about now in more ways than one.
I never expected the kid to be such an overpowered, talented monster.
The research left behind by the female lead will progress smoothly with the help of Larmor and the mages. I've brought in the dwarf craftsmen. And for at least the next year, money and resources will keep flowing in.
I could breathe a sigh of relief. With this, we finally had the resources and time to seriously consider the reconstruction of the North.
And the most urgent matter to address with those resources and time was, of course...
The Blood Wall.
Repairing the gaping hole in the Blood Wall. The repairs themselves were straightforward enough, but the demonic beasts were the problem. The frequency of their invasions had increased absurdly. Because of that, new holes were torn open before the old ones could even be patched.
How do I handle this?
Just as I was pondering the dilemma, a brilliant idea struck me.
Do we even need to block the wall?
What were Larmor and the mages researching so hard in the banquet hall right now? Wasn't it the technique to extract Elixir from demonic beast carcasses?
Which meant we needed to bring the demonic beasts outside the wall inside anyway. Furthermore, since their carcasses began to decompose the moment they died, we had to bring them inside as quickly as possible.
In that case, wouldn't it be much better to lure the beasts inside the wall, kill them, and create a controlled pathway to quickly transport them to the Elixir extraction factory we were building?
If we set up mechanized spear traps on both sides of the breach to thin out the beasts, and build a trap system to systematically slaughter any injured ones that slip through... this could actually work.
The difficulty would also be far lower than trying to seal the entire breached wall. And fortunately, the North now had the craftsmen capable of building such things.
"Cheers! Pwahaha! Yes! This is it! This is what stout should taste like! Bwahahaha!"
The dwarf craftsmen were drinking stout, laughing and chatting happily. They were singing, shouting, and slamming their mugs, making a racket, but no one stopped them.
In the original novel, one of the lures the female lead used to attract the dwarf craftsmen was Northern stout. Dwarves were, after all, a race obsessed with beer.
As my adjutant, the other beastmen who had participated in the dwarf rescue operation, and I were all drinking and having a good time, I casually slipped my arm around the shoulder of Kadrim, the leader of the dwarf clan.
"My friend! You're going to stay in the North for a long, long time, right?"
"Ah, well. What should we do? Honestly, there are plenty of places calling for us. Even if we avoid those bastards in the West, I bet the South or the East would pay us a pretty penny. If worst comes to worst, we could even become the exclusive craftsmen for the Imperial Palace!"
Though he cackled without any formality, having read the original romance fantasy novel, I knew exactly how to butter up these shorties.
"I'll keep the stout flowing. We need the most reliable dwarf craftsmen in the world! There's no one else who can forge steel like you guys! Without you, the North is doomed! You're the best! The absolute best! So please, stay in the North. I'll build you a steel mill. I'll build you a proper forge. And I'll give you plenty of opportunities to make some incredibly cool, badass weapons!"
Dwarves needed flattery. They were incredibly weak to alcohol and praise. They also possessed immense pride and self-esteem as craftsmen.
As expected, Kadrim and the other dwarf leaders began to cackle. They seemed to be in high spirits.
"Ah, what the hell! We have our history with the late Duchess anyway! I'll be generous and stay in the North! As long as you treat us the same way the late Duchess did, we have no complaints!"
"You're the best, Kadrim! Your spirit is as grand as your beard! Speaking of which, I have a favor to ask!"
"Pwahaha! What is it?"
"Forge us a special weapon to kill demonic beasts."
At my words, the noisy tavern fell dead silent. It wasn't a cold silence born of tension. It was the quiet of pure excitement and anticipation.
Kadrim chuckled.
"Well, well. Now you're speaking our language. What do you need?"
I roughly explained the schematics I had envisioned. The plan was to install traps and equipment to hunt demonic beasts right in the breach of the Blood Wall.
"So, you want a mechanism where spearheads thrust out from both walls?"
"We also need traps that will automatically kill the beasts as they enter."
"Yes! Yes! This is the kind of work we want! Those damn bastards in the West just treated us like factory laborers, telling us to raise quality or build according to blueprints! It was maddening! Let us design it!"
"And one more thing."
The Hellhound Brigade had been hunting demonic beasts for over six years. They knew how to fight them down to their very bones. And the crude culmination of that experience and know-how was this.
I pulled out a chainsword—a chainsaw hastily modified with a handle—and handed it to Kadrim.
"What is this crude piece of junk?"
"It is junk. But with that junk, the Hellhounds have slaughtered countless demonic beasts. We've tried spears, we've tried hammers. But when it comes to piercing a beast's hide, a chainsaw works best. But since we threw it together in a hurry, it doesn't pack the punch it should."
Hearing my explanation, the grin on Kadrim's face widened.
"Holy shit. Don't tell me...?"
A chainsword for hunting demonic beasts. It was time to transform it into a weapon worthy of standard military issue.
"Here's the concept for the new beast-shredding weapon, Kadrim. The core idea is this: heavy as hell, strong as hell, and loud as hell! A weapon so terrifying that the beasts will piss themselves just looking at it! Forge me a fucking monster of a weapon! You guys are going to forge the teeth of the entire Northern Army and the Hellhounds!"
Cheers and roars filled the tavern. Indeed, if there was one thing dwarves loved more than beer, it was forging a badass weapon.