Chapter 37
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: The Craftsman from the Pass
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“Didn’t they say it was around here?”
Fritz asked.
Beside the boy, Roberta hummed in thought. The two of them, seated on their saddles, gazed at the statue to their right. It was a statue of Nenus, the god of the sea.
A river flowed just behind the statue. It was a tributary of a river that originated in some southern country, and it was now swollen from the fierce rain. For four days, the rain had fallen without end, showing no sign of stopping.
“They definitely said it was near the statue of Lord Nenus…?”
Muttering to himself, Fritz scanned the area.
The two of them, along with Ulrich, were trying to cross the river. Their destination was on the other side. Iselburg, the site of the Osnover royal wedding, was only a few days’ journey beyond the river.
However, there was no bridge in sight. In the last village they’d stopped at, they’d been told, “Just follow the river upstream. You’ll see a statue of Nenus, and there’ll be a bridge nearby.” They had added that it was a sturdy stone bridge, unshaken even when the summer rains swelled the river.
“We should go a little further. I can’t see a thing through this rain!”
All that was visible was the river, which looked ready to flood. The rain lashed their faces, making it hard to keep their eyes open. Even their voices were nearly drowned out by the sound of the rain and the river unless they shouted.
“Fritz! Be careful!”
Roberta cried out suddenly. At the same moment, the river water surged like a wave, lashing out at Fritz, who was riding close to the bank.
“Don’t get too close to the river!”
His startled horse nearly bolted, but the boy skillfully calmed the animal while putting distance between them and the river.
“Wow, this is… even if there is a bridge, do you think we can cross it?”
“We’ll have to see, but I heard it would be fine.”
Roberta glanced to her left at Ulrich.
“Lord Ulrich, do you see anything?”
He swept his drenched bangs back and surveyed the river.
“Over there.”
“Pardon?”
“There’s someone there.”
The two followed his gaze. A small human figure was visible in the distance. It appeared small because of the distance, but even accounting for that, it was a small person.
“A dwarf? One of the bearded ones.”
Fritz remarked with a tone of wonder as the figure became clearer while they rode closer.
“Is he trying to cross the river?”
Roberta’s eyes also filled with curiosity.
It was the first dwarf she had seen in Osnover. It wasn’t the first she’d ever seen, though. Before her appointment as head priest in Dithmarschen, she had encountered various races, including dwarves. Among them had been imperial nobles and monks belonging to the Pantheon.
Other races were generally harder to find the closer one got to the north pole. The proportion of other races increased closer to the south pole. The reason was simple: it was a region where the influence of the old empire was weak.
This was because the second human empire, the Isturia Dynasty, had hunted the other races. They had pushed a strong assimilation policy, and the races that refused were hunted down, forcing all non-human races to relocate.
Nearly two millennia had passed, and the dynasty had changed, but the impact of that era remained deeply ingrained.
“I never thought I’d see a dwarf again.”
“Again? You’ve seen a dwarf before?”
“Yes. I saw one when I was in Dithmarschen.”
A dwarf in Dithmarschen?
“A dwarf came to see Lord Ulrich.”
Roberta glanced at Ulrich as she asked Fritz.
“What for?”
“I’m not sure about that. I just ran into him a few times when he visited the lord’s manor. He stayed for a few days and then left, and when he did, the lord was away for a few days as well.”
That was six years ago, the boy revealed.
*Six years ago would have been around the time the Osnover civil war was ending.*
The civil war had nothing to do with dwarves. She guessed he must have sought out the lord for some other reason. And that guess suddenly brought to mind the story of Count Willem Meyer.
Count Willem had said that an elf named Yudebora, facing the end of her life, had come to see Ulrich to meet an old acquaintance.
*Was it for a similar reason this time?*
Or perhaps, like Duke Bailen and his party from the Kingdom of Carbonihar, he had come with a request. She wondered about the reason, and what name Ulrich had used to greet his guest back then.
“…”
There was no time to ask.
While she was lost in thought, her horse continued forward, closing the distance to the dwarf. The dwarf, oblivious to the humans approaching through the rain, was fuming at the river.
“Dammit… What kind of shoddy maintenance is this for a bridge to collapse?”
As befitting his race, the dwarf was a short man. He wouldn’t even reach young Fritz’s chest. But his build was stout. He wore a short-sleeved shirt, and his arms were as thick as Roberta’s thighs.
Not all dwarves grew beards, but this one’s was profuse. Only his forehead, eyes, and nose showed his sunburned, ruddy skin; from his cheekbones down to his collarbones, he sported a thick, dark brown beard.
His age was impossible to guess. It was the same with all the other races. Dwarves at least had a similar appearance to humans, but due to the beard, he looked to be over forty by human standards, at best.
“Excuse me, Son of Keme.”
When Roberta greeted him, the dwarf whipped his head around to look up at her. He said nothing more, but his expression clearly meant, *What is it?* He seemed irritated at being stuck in the rain, unable to cross the river.
“May I ask what has happened?”
“Can’t you see!”
He snapped.
“The bridge collapsed!”
The dwarf’s thick finger pointed to the side.
He was right. The bridge, invisible from a distance, was now visible. Amidst the violently flowing river, the remnants of the collapsed bridge bobbed in and out of view.
A stone bridge washed away and destroyed by the river? Roberta narrowed her eyes. The dwarf read the “How?” in her gaze and raised his voice again.
“How should I know! You people built it. If we had built it, it wouldn’t have crumbled so pathetically. They should be hanged for building something that won’t even last a thousand years!”
The rain soaking his body must have stolen his warmth, yet the dwarf’s face was beet red.
“He seems to have quite a temper. We should be careful.”
Fritz whispered to Roberta.
She silently agreed. Dwarves came in many kinds, but those with full beards were notorious for their rough tempers. Each one was a master craftsman, but they were just as opinionated and stubborn, and never short on words.
Making a bad impression could last a lifetime. They were a race that never forgot a debt or a favor, as if the words ‘mercy’ and ‘forgiveness’ didn't exist in their vocabulary.
*There’s a reason they say to avoid them if they seem to be in a bad mood on your first meeting.*
She and the boy exchanged a silent glance.
“To think I came all this way just to get soaked and have to turn back.”
The dwarf’s grumbling voice was not lost in the surrounding noise.
Roberta looked at the river. It wasn’t very wide, so the opposite bank was visible even through the thick curtain of rain. It was a stone’s throw away, but with the bridge gone, there was no way to cross.
The current looked terrifying even from the surface, and unseen whirlpools were surely churning beneath. She would rather fight a monster in the sand.
*We’ll have to take a detour.*
She clicked her tongue inwardly.
There was another way to Iselburg. She had learned of another route just in case. However, it was a long way around, so it would take that much more time. Moreover, they would have to endure camping in the downpour.
When she conveyed her thoughts to Ulrich, he nodded in agreement.
“Hey, you short-ears.”
As the three were about to leave, the dwarf called out to them.
“Yes?”
Fritz replied.
“Where are you headed?”
“We’re on our way to Iselburg.”
“Iselburg?”
The dwarf’s annoyance-filled face rapidly brightened.
“Perfect! Then be my guide. I’m heading there myself, but I don’t know the way around here and have been wandering for a while.”
Faced with the sudden request, Fritz hesitated and looked at Ulrich. He calmly looked down at the small man before speaking.
“What is your name, you who have come from the pass?”
The dwarf flinched.
“…Do you know me?”
“You wear the crest, do you not? It would be impossible not to know.”
“Ah,” the dwarf exclaimed, then lowered his head to look at his own right breast. There was a silver ornament. It depicted a mountain goat rearing on its hind legs and was about the size of a fist.
“I see. No, but no human has recognized it until now. How did you know? Did someone tell you, or have you seen one of our people before?”
“I have.”
A long time ago, Ulrich added.
“That’s unusual. I thought I was the only one who’s come this far recently. That dreadful Ice Peninsula is far too close, you see.”
At his words, Roberta and Fritz reacted. When was ‘a long time ago’ for a man like Ulrich? Roberta guessed it was a time even Fritz knew nothing of.
Fritz had said he’d seen a dwarf before. If the dwarf he saw then had come from this ‘pass,’ his reaction should have been different.
“What’s your name?”
“I am Armin. My surname is Dithmarschen.”
The dwarf’s eyebrows twitched.
“Dithmarschen? From that Ice Peninsula I just mentioned?”
“Yes. It was once a part of it.”
Ulrich explained that the Duke of Dithmarschen was his adoptive father. Roberta felt a strange sensation watching him introduce himself as his own adopted son, but the dwarf didn’t notice at all.
After Roberta and Fritz introduced themselves, the dwarf stroked his wet beard and introduced himself.
“I am Toruhel Aladellione of Peira Pass.”
Ulrich repeated the surname, Aladellione, as if savoring it.
“This is too timely to be a coincidence. To meet a traveler before a collapsed bridge, and for that traveler to be the son of the Duke of Dithmarschen. You must be attending the wedding?”
Ulrich offered a faint smile befitting his youthful appearance.
“Yes. I am attending in the Duke’s stead.”
“As am I. I’m also on my way to attend that wedding.”
“You, Lord Toruhel, at the royal wedding?”
He asked, as if surprised.
“Is it so strange? That a dwarf would come all this way for a mere wedding?”
“It would be a lie to say it isn’t. Peira and Osnover are too distant from each other, are they not? There would be no reason to take interest, even if something far greater than a wedding were to happen.”
Well, that’s true, Toruhel said, nodding his head.
“To tell you the truth, it’s because of the crown.”
The crown?
Roberta, who was listening from the side, let the word slip out unconsciously.
“My brothers and I were the ones who made the crown.”
Amidst the noise of the heavy rain and the raging river, Roberta caught the word ‘crown’ distinctly. She knew. The crown the dwarf spoke of was the one Ulrich had received.
That night, after the banquet hosted by Count Meyer, Roberta had spoken with Ulrich atop the castle walls, with the night view as their backdrop. What had he said then?
He had said that the Pantheon had given him a crown for ending Osnover’s civil war, that the crown was made by dwarves, and that it was modeled after the one worn by the Emperor.
The Pantheon had created and offered him the Emperor’s crown to topple the third empire and establish the fourth. Toruhel was one of the men who had made that crown.
“But I heard there was a problem. So I came to check.”
Roberta glanced at Ulrich.
*If it’s the crown…*