The White Anvil Tribe (4)
“…….”
King Gordin doubted his own ears for a moment.
The words that had just spilled from the mouth of a human barely old enough to shave were ones he could not simply let pass.
‘Sergeant Gordin?’
Before the question of how this young man even knew that title, vivid memories of those days came flooding back.
It had been that long since he'd last heard it spoken.
‘That's right. That's what it was.’
Before he had been called Your Majesty, he had been called a prince — or Sergeant.
They say the past becomes nostalgia once it's behind you, and indeed, memories of marching across battlefields alongside the great hero Oscar Sage bloomed fresh in his mind, one after another.
After taking a moment to collect the emotions welling up in his eyes, Gordin asked, “How does a young human come to know that title?”
“What do you think?”
“Hmm. If records from the war were left in the White Tower, you might have read them. Or perhaps someone connected to it…… hm?”
Answering in earnest, Gordin belatedly realized that the young man's tone had shifted.
The moment he noticed, the creases of his scowl deepened at once.
“You're being disrespectful to an outrageous degree. Have you forgotten who stands before you?”
“I haven't forgotten. No — I can't forget. How could I?”
Oscar chuckled and shrugged his shoulders.
“Do you have any idea how much time I invested into turning you into a commander worth using?”
“……What on earth are you talking about?”
“Do you not know, or do you want to pretend you don't know?”
Whoosh!
Oscar's mana rose up and filled the entire courtroom.
It was a soft, warm mana — the kind that stirred memories at a single glance.
And when Gordin confirmed that longed-for, familiar mana, the light in his eyes.
Cooled to a chill beyond all words.
“……A puppet of the demons, are you? No — I need not even ask such a question of you.”
He could simply find out for himself. Rising from his seat, the dwarf king gripped his judgment warhammer tight.
Countless demons had impersonated his former superior and benefactor in precisely this fashion.
The reason was simple.
‘Because it works.’
This was the first time since the war ended, but during the war itself there had been more of these creatures than he could count.
Mimicking Oscar's face and mana alone promised enormous gains.
‘That's why we made one rule between us.’
The air in the courtroom flared hot.
It meant Gordin's fury and killing intent were steadily rising.
‘If I ever grow confused as to whether the one before me is truly Oscar Sage himself —’
Show hostility first.
If the other party really was Oscar Sage, he would prove it in that moment by speaking the secret code.
“First, I shall bring you to your knees!”
The instant Gordin kicked off the floor, leapt into the air, and swung his warhammer down toward the crown of the man's head —
Oscar's lips twitched with a mischievous expression.
“Even if I fell on both knees in this very place.”
A hitch.
The judgment hammer, frozen just above his head, trembled faintly.
Gordin glared at the human before him and forced out a shaking voice.
“……Even if my heart were pierced by a thousand spears and blades?”
Oscar grinned, warm and easy, and answered with playful mischief.
“You'd still have to look up at me.”
It was a secret code built on a dwarf's short stature, crafted purely to needle Gordin.
Every time they exchanged it, the dwarf would bristle and fly into a fiery rage.
Insisting that while he might be short, he was obviously taller than a man kneeling on both knees.
‘And every time I suggested we measure just to be sure, he'd cook up every excuse in the book to dodge out of it.’
Truthfully, Oscar had expected him to fly into a rage this time as well.
But contrary to expectations, Gordin did not get angry.
Slowly lowering the hammer, he stared back with a dazed expression.
“……Am I dreaming right now?”
“What? Did you make a wish for me to appear in your dreams, just once?”
“Given that my first instinct is to smash that mouth of yours in…… I suppose it really is you.”
“Sit down.”
Moving to a new seat, Oscar settled into a chair and said, “We have a great deal to talk about.”
At the very beginning, when he had first opened his eyes in young Oscar's body, there was one problem that troubled him greatly.
‘Should I reveal my identity to anyone? And if so — to whom?’
It was a question he had turned over and over again, and still never managed to resolve.
He had been especially strict about it, applying that standard even to people he believed he knew intimately well.
‘Case in point — I never even revealed my identity to that rascal Maxim.’
Even if he were to meet his former disciples or the Emperor, he likely wouldn't have revealed himself easily.
As the old saying goes: you can see ten fathoms into the water, but not one inch into a person's heart.
‘Far too much time has passed.’
Twenty years.
More than enough time for a person's personality, values, and everything else to change.
And so Oscar had made one decision.
‘Alright. If I ever do reveal my identity to someone……’
At present, he counted only two such people.
One of them, naturally, was Edna Sol Laplace — and the other was Gordin.
“Hoh. So you trusted me that much?”
Oscar dashed cold water on the touched expression Gordin wore.
“Don't get the wrong idea. I didn't trust you. I trusted the Primeval Flame.”
Dwarves serve and revere the Primeval Flame.
And naturally so.
For it was the Primeval Flame who had forged them and sent them down into this world.
‘It is the flame of purification that burns away every evil in the world.’
That was also why dwarves remained children in form forever.
Because the Primeval Flame despised any who had lost the purity of a child.
‘Well, I doubt there was any real need for their appearance to be childlike too……’
But if the creator wanted it that way, what could anyone do about it?
In any case, for that very reason, no wicked dwarf had ever existed in this world.
That was no metaphor — it was a physical impossibility.
‘Because the moment a dwarf ever joined hands with evil or fell into corruption, they would burst into flame and die on the spot.’
It was little wonder there was a saying that while you couldn't trust your own parents or children, you could always trust a dwarf.
“Still, I never imagined I'd fall victim to contract fraud from a bunch of dwarves.”
“C-Contract fraud? Nonsense! What rubbish!”
Gordin flinched and hurriedly made his excuses.
“I knew nothing of your exclusive contract. And even if I had known, my decision would not have changed.”
“Because protecting the dwarves is your top duty as king?”
“Exactly. That is also the will of the Primeval Flame. And it was the humans who wronged you first.”
True enough.
Ahem, ahem. Gordin cleared his throat and changed the subject.
“There is much I wish to ask, but first — how in the world…… did you come back to life?”
“No idea.”
Oscar answered with utter irresponsibility.
“Staring at me like that won't help. I genuinely don't know. And rather than saying I was revived, ‘possession’ would be the more accurate word.”
“Possession…… then it seems someone has been toying with your soul.”
“Perhaps. When I opened my eyes, twenty years had already gone by. You know roughly how things stand at the White Tower these days, I assume?”
“I heard that every disciple but one has left. I also know the Tower is no longer what it once was.”
“Right. So right after I woke up, I was busy with this and that. Only now do I feel like things are starting to hold together, so I've been moving bit by bit.”
He turned his head to look at Gordin.
“I met the Nightmare Baron recently.”
“What!?”
Gordin's eyes went wide with shock.
“Are — are you serious?”
“Of course. But…… that information was kept under strict control, as it turns out. Which only made me more curious.”
Oscar's gaze sank low.
“Tell me what the demons have been doing for the past twenty years.”
Information about them could not be found in any newspaper or book.
Just like the dragons, as though their records had been deliberately erased.
Hearing this, Gordin nodded slowly.
“The Imperial House is almost certainly controlling the information as we speak. The demons are the most sensitive topic in all of humanity. Shaping the mood so that citizens forget their existence as quickly as possible — that would be the priority.”
“What about the information you have?”
“……The most recent thing I know is from four years ago, when the demons were encountered near the Red Mountains by the imperial army.”
Four years ago.
Oscar's eyes gleamed as he murmured, “It didn't end peacefully, I take it.”
“No — astonishingly, they are said to have merely gazed at the imperial army from a great distance, and then withdrew.”
“……What?”
The demons — that battle-loving race, that race that despised humans above all — had avoided combat?
Reading Oscar's reaction, Gordin's voice grew heavier.
“That is precisely why voices of concern are growing louder. The Imperial House itself has even floated the suggestion of reorganizing the World Alliance, using that incident as justification.”
The World Alliance was a coalition that encompassed not only humans but also dwarves, elves, fairies, and others of their kind.
According to what he'd researched, it had been disbanded after the war.
“It certainly doesn't sit right. Their behavior is nothing like the demons we used to know.”
“They have begun to change. One might even call it evolution. The important thing is that this kind of radical shift always has……”
“A reason behind it.”
The most common reason was usually a change in rulership.
“You've likely anticipated it already, but there may be a second leader among them.”
“……A second leader.”
The Great Emperor — the first to unify the demon race and lead them — had been the worst possible enemy.
Capable and powerful, yet on top of that clever and ruthless.
‘Perhaps the revival of the Night of the Magicians lies along that same line, too.’
If the demons truly were stirring again, the Empire would have felt the need to reorganize its own forces.
Frowning in thought, Oscar finally spoke.
“Have you ever heard of an organization called the Black Finger?”
“You mean those demon worshippers, or whatever they are?”
“That's them. Be wary of them. If the demons really have changed, the greatest change will be in their approach.”
In the last war, they had trusted in their own strength and struck head-on.
And they had lost everything — suffering a crushing defeat that ended with the death of their leader himself.
“No matter how strong they are, they must have realized they need to move more carefully now.”
“That…… is a terrifying thing to hear.”
Having grasped the true meaning behind those words, Gordin swallowed hard.
It meant the demons might already be moving in the shadows through the Black Finger.
“If that's true, humanity — soaked in twenty years of peace — may find it very hard to bear.”
“It's hardly a future any of us wanted, but worrying about it won't change the facts.”
“……What do you intend to do?”
“What can I do? Start with whatever's within reach, right now.”
Grow stronger. Make the White Tower strong.
So that if the demons truly did spark a second war one day, they could be stopped once more.
“Which brings me to this — I need you to lend me your strength.”
“Lending you strength…… do you mean the White Anvil Tribe?”
“I do. Even if it means borrowing the dwarves' power, I need to restore the White Tower quickly — and make it stronger than ever.”
“Hmm.”
After a moment's consideration, Gordin reluctantly nodded.
“Personally, I'd rather not so much as look at you humans. But if it's you — I suppose I have no choice.”
“Thank you.”
“Don't mention it. We go way back.”
“Well, after all, I did raise a greenhouse-flower prince from La Forge into the fine, upstanding king you are today.”
“……Shut up.”
Face burning red, Gordin rose from his seat before any more embarrassing history could come to light.
“The Dwarven Kingdom will likewise mobilize its full reach abroad for the time being, and gather information on the demons and the Black Finger.”
“I'm counting on you.”
“Then I shall now summon the chieftains.”
“Ah — just in case I should mention……”
“Today's conversation will not be found even within my grave.”
As expected — when it came to discretion, the dwarf never missed a beat.
Oscar looked at his old comrade-in-arms, now the head of an entire nation, and a soft smile spread across his face.