A Humble Beginning (11)
Are those the elders of Kazahur? They certainly gave off that "dwarf-like vibe. Which meant they looked ridiculously filthy. Just turning toward the sound of their voices sent clouds of dust billowing from their beards. What the hell...?!
"Ukun? You're back already? Weren't you just strutting out of here the other day, bragging about building that damn bathhouse or whatever?"
The elders greeted him with half-hearted non-greetings and turned their eyes to me.
"Who's the lanky bastard behind you?"
"My investor. He's fronting the cash for the bathhouse."
"Seen every kind of lunatic there is. Must be swimming in money. So why'd you drag him all the way here?"
Ukun hesitated, fidgeting nervously with the head of the hammer at his belt.
"Well... I was gonna take him to my workshop for a bit..."
"What?! You filthy piece of shit no one could swallow or spit out! What the hell are you thinking?!"
The elder dwarves erupted in curses and finger-pointing, working themselves into a frenzy. A few even dropped their smokes onto the dirt floor. One scooped his up quick, blew off the grime, and stuck it back in his mouth. Filthy bastards.
"You anvil-and-hammer-brained idiot! You wanna bring a human into sacred Kazahur?! All that bath nonsense has your head so full of water you're out of your mind!"
"I told you! Sniffing soap too long rots the brain! You forgetting the law that only dwarves enter Kazahur?!"
"Who knows if that human's a royal spy here to steal our rare ores or smelting secrets! Ukun, you punk! How many times do I gotta dunk you in the furnace to knock some sense in?!"
Every time they heaved with rage, acrid dust and tobacco stench blasted out. I had to pinch my nose and step back. This old mining town must've addled their ancient, rusty brains too. So damn stubborn.
The dwarves in that mining town where I'd slain the archdemon had bragged about capturing demons themselves, but they hadn't barred entry outright. What could anyone steal from a bunch of muscle-bound brutes swinging brutal tools anyway? Dwarf smelting techniques and blueprints were incomprehensible even if you took them, and replicating them was damn near impossible.
Ukun, catching hell from all sides, wiped sweat with a handkerchief and squirmed.
"It's just... this human's curious about my inventions... and to show some trust to an investor..."
"Never crossed your mind he might bail on the investment after seeing your harebrained crap?!"
"And hide that shitty rag right now!"
"It's a handkerchief, not a rag..."
"Shut it!"
Ukun stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket fast. Then the arrows turned to me.
"You there, beanpole human! No entry to Kazahur! This is a place for dwarves who wield hammer and anvil only!"
"Not just for folks who don't bathe?"
"Listen up, human. Mining and smelting are dwarves' sacred fate. Covered in sweat and dust—that's how we praise the gods. Filthy is dwarven!"
The elder dwarves thumped their chests proudly. Dust rained from their clothes.
"Which is why you're no dwarf, Ukun! Send that human packing and get in here! We'll make you proper!"
"Eek!"
As the elders closed in, Ukun ditched any dwarf pride and hid behind me. If they grabbed him, he'd be dragged to the shafts, soaked in sweat and dust, force-fed smokes.
"Hiding behind a human? No shame?! Get out here!"
Ukun clutched my pant leg desperately with his rough hand.
"Balder! Do something! They'll make me filthy!"
"They're your elders—want me to toss 'em or what?"
"Dwarves are tough! A little throw won't hurt! We gotta get to the workshop first..."
The elders flipped out at that, roaring in fury.
"Hear that cheeky shit?! Toss us?! Let's see who ends up in the furnace today!"
"Eek! Incoming! Fuck, Balder! Please!"
Sigh... As I sighed and reached for the elders, one suddenly threw out his arms to halt the others.
"Whoa...! Hold up! Everyone stop!"
"What, punk?! Move!"
"Look at that human's sword!"
All eyes locked on the Holy Sword.
"Hoh... What's that...? Never seen a style like it..."
"Not dwarf work... but who else crafts something so ornate and precise?"
Their eyes gleamed with curiosity and greed. The dwarves edged closer warily.
"Ahem. Human. That sword... mind if we take a peek? Just a quick look..."
"Balder...! Show 'em...! Show 'em off!"
Ukun hissed from behind me. That's what I'd planned anyway. No one could steal the Holy Sword, and it'd distract them.
"Sure."
I drew it smoothly. The straight white blade caught the summer sun, gleaming beautifully. As the full sword revealed itself, the dwarves gasped in unison.
"Ooooooh!!!!"
Like greeting a god, they raised arms high, clamoring to hold it.
"Not just anyone can wield this. Only I can."
"Magic sword?!"
"Something like that. If you wanna inspect close, better put it on a table..."
"Hey! Grab a desk! Table, whatever—hurry!"
The dwarves bolted into the mine, hauling out a small table panting. I set the Holy Sword down. They swarmed it like ants on sugar, arguing fiercely.
"Look at this blade! Tough as hell! Gotta be gambriumite!"
"Idiot! White gambriumite? It's teriophal!"
"Teriophal my ass... This is maitonium! Only that for a full blade this long."
"Damn! Check the hilt! What kinda work makes that shape?!"
"Don't drop ash, you maniac!"
They forgot us entirely. Ukun mumbled hesitantly.
"Elders... I actually got gagabur brain fluid..."
"Yeah, yeah. Go on. Do your thing."
One elder waved him off like an annoying fly. I nudged Ukun's side with my knee.
"Go quick. While they're distracted."
We slipped past the now-insulting, brawling elders into the mine.
The interior of the mining city Kazahur was grand. Vaulted ceilings, vast halls filled with statues of every kind, glowing glass lanterns. Stocky dwarves bustled with tools, hammer strikes and steam from quenching hot iron distracting the senses. Dead center, a shaft plunged underground; soot-faced filthy dwarves shouldered picks, filing down in line. They smoked even in unvented sealed spaces, smoke choking the tunnels.
"How's it? This is dwarven city Kazahur."
Ukun boasted, nose plugged with his handkerchief.
"Eh, like any mine. But... the stench is killing my head."
Ukun pulled a fresh handkerchief from his pocket—cute with green vines—and handed it over. Lemon scent wafted faintly. Ahh... much better.
"Hurry to the workshop. Gonna suffocate otherwise."
"Tch. Blind to dwarf legacy? Humans got no aesthetic sense."
"Aesthetics? Smell's too much. Wanna dunk these bastards in a lake of soapy water and scrub 'em raw."
Ukun chuckled and led to elevators. Unique to dwarf mines, these auto-lifted along vertical shafts—simple principle humans tried copying, but crashes killed commercialization.
Dwarves aboard eyed me weirdly. Ukun pulled the lever; it jolted downward.
"Here, Balder."
We hopped off after floors. Their elevator vanished deeper. Straight corridors led past dwarves. Some greeted Ukun first.
"Hey! Ukun! Still bathing? Beard'll fall out, punk."
"Dumbass. Not bathing makes it fall. Soap makes it shiny and better."
"Shiny? Then shave elf hair and glue it on? Not dwarven..."
"Eat this, punk."
Ukun swung a fist; the dwarf laughed and walked off.
"Real tight with your pals."
Ukun smirked at my joke.
"No beatings, no dunks in shit—that's lucky. Dwarves never betray kin, no matter the weirdo."
He opened a door.
"My workshop."
I peered in, then stepped out to check the hall, tilting my head.