The air in the VIP room was silent in the wake of the Sorcerer King's departure. As though to shatter this silence, Nimble shouted:
"Your Majesty!"
Jircniv furrowed his brows in an exaggerated manner as he looked at Nimble.
"You're being too loud. I'm still nearby."
"For-forgive me. But, but, may I know what just happened?!"
"You wish to know why I made a decision like that?"
Nimble nodded in response. Jircniv glanced to Baziwood, who had a similar attitude.
"I see... Then, what else would you suggest I do?"
Jircniv laughed at himself.
"Ever since he came here, along with his ― ah! Negotiations with the Slaine Theocracy have broken down. The temples don't think well of me either. How long would it take to bring the matter of those negotiations up again? Is that even a problem which can be solved with enough time?"
Jircniv thought about what he would do if he were one of the higher-ups in the Slaine Theocracy. If another country gave an excuse as pathetic as, "That was just Ainz Ooal Gown seeing through our scheme, we didn't intend for anything else," they would surely think there was no value in allying with that country and abandon it. No, they might end up using that country as fuel for some kind of plot in the future.
It would seem an alliance with the Slaine Theocracy was pretty much out of the question.
"So he's saying, 'please struggle as hard as you can by yourself without the Theocracy as allies', hm? My my, as expected of His Majesty, the Sorcerer King Ainz Ooal Gown. I have to take my hat off to him. His reach is truly longer than I could have imagined. First, he lets his foes grow proud, and then he destroys them in one hit when they lower their guard."
Though he was an enemy, Jircniv could not help but praise that perfect scheme.
It was so perfectly calculated that he had no choice but to admit defeat. There was no sign of any reinforcements for the Empire, while Ainz already had solid proof of the Empire's actions. In other words, Ainz held the power of life and death over the Empire.
Baziwood shook his head. It would seem they understood the situation they were in.
"Ahh, this is really... how shall I put this. He really put the boot in. He hit you right in your weak spot. Something like that."
"Exactly. I can't think of any way to deal with him. I guess I'm broken in mind and body. It feels like anything would be fine at this point."
"Your Majesty..." Nimble looked toward Jircniv, speaking quietly.
"He's not so much undead as he is a devil. It feels as if he knows how to thoroughly break a man's will."
"Still, even so, becoming a vassal state..."
Jircniv looked gently upon Nimble, who still seemed unable to accept it.
He could understand the man's feelings.
However, he would have preferred a rationally considered solution to this problem, rather than that childish revelation of his feelings. Still, if even Jircniv could not solve that problem, how much more so for Nimble?
"...I'll speak plainly now. We cannot win. The only option we have is, as I said earlier, to subvert his subordinates. I cannot imagine any other way to oppose him. As you might have felt in that war, it's clear that he's most powerful as a magic caster."
The two knights nodded in agreement.
"Then how is he as a warrior? Can you kill him with a sword?"
Jircniv shrugged.
"You should have seen it, right? Even as a warrior, the Martial Lord could not beat him. And what was that? He took the Martial Lord's attack and remained unhurt? Did he use magic?"
"I'm not sure, but it might be possible."
"Really now. In other words, he can render any attack ineffective with magic, then? So assassination is impossible. Could he be immortal?"
"Well, he has a physical body, so I doubt he's immortal."
"Then why was he unhurt?"
Nimble was left dumbfounded, and he turned to Baziwood beside him for help. However, Baziwood kept his lips pressed flat into a straight line.
"...So, let's do this for now. Gather all the information you can about the Martial Lord's weapon, and then we'll round up all the magic casters and adventurers we can find to ask them about why he was unhurt. Fortunately, that pronouncement of his should have set him against the Adventurer's Guild, so they should be happy to help us."
"Then, shouldn't we have offered vassalage after trying all of those? Fortunately, he refused."
Jircniv was somewhat annoyed by this, but he suppressed his displeasure and did not show it. Instead, he looked at Nimble with a troubled expression on his face.
"Fortunately? Do you really think of it that way? I think it's the other way around. On the contrary, is it not best to push for vassalization as quickly as possible?" Jircniv asked Nimble, who had a baffled expression on his face.
"Why do you think he would refuse our offer of vassalage?"
"That, that is... your servant is unsure..."
"Perhaps if he were incompetent, unsure of how to handle the changing situation ― he might think of something like that. However, our opponent is that man, remember? Judging by his intellect, he must have already come up with a plan for the future in the brief period after we proposed vassalage. If he refused the offer after thinking it through, that would indicate something about that course of action did not mesh with his aims."
"And what would that be?"
Jircniv's face turned bitter from Baziwood's question.
"I don't know. Still, well, it probably can't be good for us. Otherwise he would not be so disturbed by the offer of vassalage. For all we know, the objectives he has in mind are things which he cannot carry out in his own country. In that case―"
Jircniv let his overworked brain, which was soon to emit smoke, run wild.
His opponent was that Ainz Ooal Gown. He must surely have some objective in mind.
As the king of the Sorcerer Kingdom, what would he want? What would he hate?
Sweat beaded on his forehead, and Jircniv struggled to think.
"―The Adventurer's Guild? Could it be he wants to do something to the Adventurer's Guild, which is why he opposed the vassalage?"
"What about that declaration? ...Would permitting it be a good idea, Your Majesty? In a few years' time, a lot of the best and brightest of the Empire might end up flowing out of the country."
"...I did not get that at all. Tell me how you arrived at that."
"While doing as he says means that one's freedom might be restricted, having the incredibly powerful Sorcerer King as backing is a very attractive proposition. In the adventuring profession, far more people die than manage to make a name for themselves. However, with someone that powerful supporting them... well, at least that's what those people with no confidence in themselves will think. Also, since we have knights, there aren't many jobs for low-ranked adventurers in the first place."
"An outflow of talent... Although they may not have faith in themselves, it doesn't mean they're not capable."
There were people who were talented, yet lacked self-confidence. Yet, it would take a very confident person to explore a new world.
"If that's the case, aren't these all reasons to oppose vassalization? Still... wouldn't it be more convenient for us to become a vassal state? That way, he can swallow up the Adventurer's Guild up directly... Ah! Ainz Ooal Gown! Why must your intellect surpass mine so greatly?! Your schemes are so fiendish I can't even begin to comprehend them!"
"Is it possible that he's not thinking about anything at all?"
Jircniv glared hatefully at Baziwood's joking comment.
"What nonsense is that? He anticipated our movements to this degree... no, it's unthinkable. We also need to consider the effects of his unknowable feelings that drive him to hate the living..."
Perhaps assuming that he thought like one of the undead was a mistake.
Perhaps Ainz had already anticipated that he would agonize and guess about this, and worked it into his plan. He might well be waiting with open arms for a panicked Jircniv to hasten the vassalization process.
"What should we do now?" Nimble asked. He was referring to the Empire's future actions.
"...I intend to spread the news to the surrounding countries. First, I will gather the scribes and tell them in rough terms that the Empire chooses submission and to become a vassal state of the Sorcerous Kingdom, and that we have no choice in the matter. We will get the news out to the surrounding countries quickly and let it spread, so the Sorcerous Kingdom has no choice but to acknowledge it."
"Your Majesty..."
The two of them lowered their heads. The fact that even Baziwood had an expression like that on his face made Jircniv wonder if it was a joke.
He deleted the bitter smile from his face, and spoke in a friendly manner.
"Why so glum? There are all sorts of vassal states. If we are allowed to govern ourselves for the most part, then we can continue living as we always have. No ― if the Sorcerous Kingdom defends us with their incredible power, then would we not be safer than before?"
As they heard about a slightly brighter future(probably), a little color returned to their faces.
"Therefore, we need to deal with any internal dissatisfaction. If the Sorcerous Kingdom does not allow us to rule ourselves, the Empire might start to fragment. There might be factions which are not pleased with vassalage that might make their move as well."
Jircniv began thinking about the disposition of the factions within the Empire.
The most important ones were the Knight Corps. However, they would not switch over to the anti-vassalage faction. Even if they opposed it , it would only be lip service. They would not actually take action.
Next were the nobles. They could not be predicted. While there were few people who would complain about Jircniv's decision, those few might be aiming for a chance to depose the Bloody Emperor. These were people who might try anything to become the new rulers of the vassalized Empire.
The commoners could be deceived. To them, as long as life went on as normal, they would not mind becoming a vassal state.
"―The priests will be a problem."
The temples would never acknowledge this. And, it would be worse if the temples not only opposed it, but forbade all recuperative activity. He would need to talk with them repeatedly and get them to come over to his thinking.
"...Will you be alright, Your Majesty?"
"Who knows? While I'm around, we'll have the best chance of vassalizing, and I plan to show the results of doing so... but that might not be good to say."
Why me, he thought.
He had inherited this task from his father, and the Empire had steadily grown stronger. He should not have misstepped at any point during that process.
But then that monster appeared, and everything had gone mad.
There was probably nothing wrong in the way he negotiated with that monster. It was simply that Ainz Ooal Gown was a being whose thought processes transcended those of mankind.
In just a month, everything had changed.
Jircniv sighed deeply.
"I must be the unluckiest man in the world..."
Though that was merely idle chatter, the news of Silver Canary changing their home base from the Empire to the City-State Alliance soon reached the demoralized Jircniv. In the coming days, Jircniv would come to bemoan this as "blessings do not come in pairs, while calamities do not come alone."
-x-X-x-
-x-X-x-
Demiurge walked happily through the 9th Floor of the Great Underground Tomb of Nazarick.
The sensation of returning after a long time was probably an illusion of some sort. After all, he returned to this place from time to time, and the longest stretch of time he had been away from here was a fortnight at the most. Thus, the reason for his misperception was clearly due to the joy he felt at walking through this place.
His mood lifted the closer he got to his objective.
Demiurge paid no heed to the guards Cocytus had stationed on either side of the doors as he adjusted his tie and inspected his appearance. Naturally, he paid attention to it at all times, but he did not want his master to see a side of him which was less than immaculate.
After a very earnest inspection of his personal grooming, Demiurge knocked on the door of the room.
One of the maids opened the door, poking her head out to see who was calling.
Demiurge wanted to try and spy out a glimpse of his master through the gap, but he could not do anything that embarrassing.
"May I know if Ainz-sama is in his room?"
"My sincerest apologies, Demiurge-sama. Ainz-sama is not in."
His mood plummeted but he did not let it show on his face.
"Is that so. Then, where has Ainz-sama gone?"
"My sincerest apologies, I do not know... However, Albedo-sama might know something about it."
She was right.
"Really now. Then, where is Albedo now?"
"She is in this room."
Demiurge knew Albedo treated her master's room as her workroom. Can't you just use the room you've been assigned, he often thought, but after considering her personality, he ended up keeping quiet. The most important thing was his master's approval. With that, there was nothing else for him to add.
"Is she working? ...Could you help me check if this is a convenient time to visit?"
"Understood."
The door before him closed. A moment later, it opened again.
"Please come in, Demiurge-sama."
Demiurge thanked the maid and then entered. Before his eyes was the Guardian Overseer, seated on a chair in front of his master's desk.
Her lowered line of sight moved, and caught hold of Demiurge.
"It's been a while, Albedo."
"Ah, Demiurge. You've worked hard abroad. What is it today?"
"Ah, it concerns the matter in the Holy Kingdom. I was planning to obtain permission for the final stages of the plan. I will need a Doppelganger... where is Ainz-sama?"
"He is somewhat far away. I doubt he will be able to return quickly..."
In other words, he is not in E-Rantel, Demiurge mused. Otherwise she would not describe it in such a strange way.
"That is somewhat of an inconvenience. Then, I shall perform preparation work on the 7th Floor until Ainz-sama returns."
"If it is urgent, could you not communicate with [Message]?"
Demiurge frowned, and observed Albedo's expression.
She had her usual smile on, but the perceptive Demiurge detected some other emotion within her.
If she was just toying with him, it would be fine.
Demiurge attempted to quickly study her, but he could not read that deeply.
It ached at him, but then again, this was not a contest in the first place.
Among all the people of Nazarick, the only two people he could not read were his master and Albedo. He set them aside as rare exceptions for the sake of his inner peace.
Demiurge shrugged.
"It is not that urgent. If Ainz-sama returns the day after, I shall inform him myself."
"Ainz-sama did not mention how long he would be gone. He might take a very long time."
"Then, I shall go to Ainz-sama's side, Albedo. It is not a matter which requires the use of [Message]."
"Ara? Why is that? If it is truly important, would it not be more loyal to inform him as soon as possible?"
The context of Albedo's smile had changed. Earlier, it was her usual fake smile, but now it was a wicked, bullying smile. She must have some sort of ill intent in mind.
It would seem there was something she wanted to say, no matter what.
How tiresome, Demiurge thought as he stated his reasons.
"I desire to display my achievements to Ainz-sama, so I do not wish to use such methods to contact him. While I can receive his praise through a [Message], in the end, I would still prefer to hear his voice in person. That is all... Is that not the shared dream for all in Nazarick?"
"Mm, indeed, Demiurge. It is as you say. Anyone would feel that way."
"Then, where has Ainz-sama gone?"
"He has gone to visit the Dwarf Kingdom, about which little is known and which has not made diplomatic contact until now. Thus, we do not know how much time it will take."
"Who accompanies him?"
"Shalltear and Aura."
That should be fine in terms of combat strength. However other aspects were more worrisome.
Aura was fine. All she needed to do was not inconvenience Ainz-sama. Yet, the face of the other person appeared in Demiurge's mind.
"Still, by bringing Shalltear along, does he intend to destroy the Dwarf Kingdom?"
Mare would have been a much better choice for verbal negotiations. Thus, that choice was made for other reasons.
"—What are the other Guardians doing?"
"Cocytus is managing the lake. Mare is building a dungeon outside E-Rantel. Sebas is carrying out his duties in E-Rantel. Although I do not know what Ainz-sama intends, the fact that he did not bring an army along would suggest a peaceful visit, no?"
"...There is insufficient information for that. Why did Ainz-sama want to go to the Dwarf Kingdom?"
"Demiurge. We cannot predict Ainz-sama's thoughts."
It was as Albedo said.
His master, Ainz Ooal Gown, was the supreme ruler of Nazarick, who concealed countless stratagems within a single move of a chess piece. Demiurge — who had been created with outstanding talents — could not even hope to graze the soles of his brilliance with his outstretched hands. Attempting to read his master's motivations was a mistake.
That said, sensing his master's will and preparing for it was a mark of true loyalty.
If I don't work hard enough...
As Demiurge rebuilt his conviction once more, Albedo picked up a piece of parchment from the table.
"This came from the Empire yesterday. I opened it after receiving Ainz-sama's permission via [Message]. It contains an offer of vassalage from the Empire. The exact details of the vassalization are to be finalized later."
Demiurge was shocked. This was much earlier than he had anticipated.
"What's this? According to my predictions, the Empire should only have offered to be vassals after the Kingdom was destroyed..."
"That is the result of Ainz-sama's visit to the Empire."
"This is... As expected of Ainz-sama..."
"Say, Demiurge. Did you really think the Empire would only become a vassal after the Kingdom would?"
"Of course. That was how I planned it."
"Regardless of what methods you used?"
"...What are you trying to say?"
"Ainz-sama often mentioned your name. It came up in the context of 'Did you hear from Demiurge? Then it should be all right.' In other words, there was something about you — about your plan which he could not accept."
"What are you saying.. Albedo, why didn't you tell me earlier? If that's the case—"
"If what is the case?"
Demiurge could not speak.
"...Let me ask you again. Was there no way to make the Empire a vassal before the Kingdom?"
"...There was. However, it would have required Ainz-sama himself to act. It would be a shameful course of action for a subordinate to advise. In addition, I felt that it would require the execution of several methods — requiring at least a month — in order to cause a violent upheaval within a large city. That being the case, I believed that it would have been better to begin by subjugating the Kingdom and then applying pressure on other areas... how long did Ainz-sama take?"
"I was in the Kingdom, so I am not sure, but I think it was three days at the most."
Demiurge's eyes went wide.
That was too fast.
How had he demonstrated his subjugating might? How had he broken the will of the Emperor, who sought to ally with other nations?
Although Demiurge had prepared a perfect plan that would render the Emperor unable to take action, his master seemed to have crafted a scheme which surpassed even that.
"Three days? How did he do that..."
"Incidentally, there were almost no casualties."
His gaping mouth felt like it had been stoppered. All he felt was an unstoppable flow of admiration and respect for that absolute ruler. He was like Death itself, quietly standing behind the Emperor and then crushing his heart.
The trembling he felt just now spread from the top of his head to his entire body. Savage delight, admiration, fear and respect mixed within him, and this complex blend of emotions made Demiurge shudder without end.
"As, as expected of Ainz-sama. Someone like me could not hope to even approach him. He is truly a peerless and perfect master. Nobody else could have led the Supreme Beings. I cannot help but envy Pandora's Actor, even if just a little."
Albedo went kuku, her smile full of superiority.
It must have been the sense of superiority a woman felt when she was ordered to love such a marvelous man.
"In addition, Ainz-sama has ordered us to decide how to handle the vassalage of the Kingdom."
"Ordered us? Why?"
"Is that not obvious? Much of the developments in this field have been due to the use of your plan, Demiurge. Even so, Ainz-sama said nothing to you and pushed the vassalization of the Empire forward with his own plan. Thus, his heart ached."
He could not understand that. Perhaps if he was displeased at his own incompetence, he could understand that. But not this.
"...Why? I do not understand."
Hah~ Albedo sighed tiredly.
"It is because he trusts you. In other words... how shall I put this. You should be able to understand it with that mind of yours, but this is probably how it is. Not following your plan is equivalent to doubting your abilities. Ainz-sama awaited your communication because he did not want to do that. However, Ainz-sama felt you were too concerned about him. Thus, his independent action was meant to tell you, 'don't worry about me', I believe."
It was an answer he could accept. No, it would be better to say there could be no other answer but that.
"This truly is..."
Demiurge lowered his face in shame. At the same time, he was filled with delight after he realised how his master had thought of him.
"Demiurge. We must work to repay Ainz-sama's kindness."
"Of course, Albedo."
Demiurge was excited.
"In order to fulfil Ainz-sama's expectations, let us finish a vassalage plan for the Kingdom for him to see before he returns!"
"Indeed. Ainz-sama has gone in person, so there must be many schemes in store. He will surely be busy once he returns from the Dwarven Kingdom."
Demiurge grinned.
"Indeed, Albedo. Indeed."
-x-X-x-
-x-X-x-
V11 Prologue
Gondo Firebeard changed into his work clothes.
They were a set of coarsely-designed coveralls, stitched together from sturdy cloth. They stretched poorly and did not feel comfortable when worn. They were a poor choice for everyday wear. However, they were exceptionally suited for working in the mine tunnels, where conditions were poor. Putting it on might not have seemed like a big deal, but being able to wear such gear was revolutionary when one looked back on the history of the Dwarven people and how they had first worked the tunnels while practically naked.
After that, he put on a metal helmet, of the sort that light infantry might wear. The insides of the mines were very humid, and wearing it directly against the skin would be uncomfortable due to the heat and the trickling of sweat. Thus, the miners all padded the insides of their helmets with thick towels.
Finally, he put on a set of dog tags around his neck. The number 5 was inscribed onto the metal plate. It implied that he was on the final day of his five-day-on, five-day-off work regime.
In other words, Gondo would briefly be free from tomorrow onwards.
After his preparations were complete, Gondo emerged from the changing room and headed straight to the usual place, the waiting room.
Gondo squeezed between several dwarves and immediately picked out his name on the message board. There were four other names on the same row as his, and they would be Gondo's shiftmates — his working buddies for today.
Finding one's colleagues, the people with whom he would share his toil, was a piece of cake in this cramped waiting room. It would seem Gondo was the last to arrive, because his buddies had already noticed him before he could rush over.
"Ohhh! Gondo! It's been a while!"
"Ho! Gagaiz! I'm fortunate to have you as shift leader. It'll be good to work with you. Same goes for the others!"
"Ho, Gondo! Let's do our best today!"
"Mm, mm. Today's the fifth day! The last day. I'll give it all I've got!"
"Ha~ I feel like slacking off~"
They chattered on like this as they left the waiting room and signed out pickaxes, shovels, and other mining tools. Then, they drew rations and refreshments — lunchboxes and two liters of water, stored in a magic item which maintained a steady temperature.
However, there was no sign of the dwarves' beloved beverage, beer. There was no way it would be there. While it was true that the dwarves were highly resistant to alcohol and would not be intoxicated by just a few drinks, no mining boss would ever allow his prized workers to touch the demon drink while working in the dangerous tunnels.
That said—
One of the dwarves took a swig from a flask at his waist, which had not been issued to him.
"Puhaa~"
The air he exhaled was redolent with the scent of alcohol.
Neither was he the only one to do so. Gondo had several pouches like that as well.
Of course, he did not have alcohol with him. However, he had flasks of water, soup, five sticks of boiled sweets, and dwarven bread to supplement his rations.
The interior of the tunnels were hot and humid, so in addition to consuming additional calories, they had to take in extra water as well. The fact was that their issued rations were the bare minimum needed for them. Their bosses were the sort who would cut costs whenever they could.
After finishing all their preparations, they stepped up before the Dwarf who was in charge of this state-run mining tunnel.
He was seated on the other side of a counter, a creepy, sinister-looking Dwarf in glasses. He raised an eyebrow, and looked over Gondo and company.
He muttered quietly when he came to the humming Dwarf who reeked of alcohol, but in the end he did not say anything. He might have been their manager, but he was still a Dwarf, and he understood these things. Or rather, it was because Gagaiz made the first move and spoke up.
"I am Gagaiz. Where will we be digging today?"
The creepy-looking Dwarf snorted, and then turned his attention from the group to the map he was holding. Although their view was blocked by the counter, it was reasonable to assume that it was a chart which held the assignments for all the dig sites.
"You'll be in Sector 8821."
"8821... heatstones, then?"
Heatstones were very important things to the Dwarves.
Dwarves were a race of the earth. For the most part, they lived underground. When they used coal or firewood to produce the heat needed for warmth, cooking and smithing, it would pollute the air and make life difficult for them.
Granted, there were magic items which could cleanse the air. However, such items required druids to make, and they were regrettably rare among the Dwarves. Thus they could not mass-produce such magic items.
Therefore, they used the metal called heatstones as a replacement for those things.
Heatstones were a special kind of metal. If one struck them with a very hard metal — mithril, at the barest minimum — they would produce intense heat. The Dwarves used this curious metal like coal, and their refineries and smithies consumed vast quantities of them. Thus, one could say that heatstones were a central part of Dwarven life.
Incidentally, firewood and the like were rare in this place.
A set of metal plates hit the counter; they were permits which allowed passage in and out of the tunnels. Gagaiz threaded them onto his necklace with a dexterity one would not have expected of his stubby fingers.
After that, he studied the sheet of paper which had been passed to him. He let the others read it as well after he had verified the contents.
Soon, the paper reached Gondo's hands. As always it contained the route leading to their dig site. Gondo imprinted the location of several critical junctions into his mind. They would come in handy if they had to flee due to an emergency. After all, monsters might show up even in a Dwarven mine, so it paid to be careful about these things.
"Use the mining cart at the third junction."
"Got it. Then, let's go!"
They oiled up the manually-operated minecart at the third junction and then pushed it forward according to Gagaiz's directions. The interior of the tunnels were lit by lanterns containing naturally-glowing oil. However, those lanterns were spaced very far apart, so at times, entire sections of the tunnel were shrouded in darkness. That said, all Dwarves had darkvision, which could easily overcome the darkness. Of course, this darkvision did not have unlimited range, but it was enough to go from lantern to lantern.
Perhaps the races from the outside world would not be able to bear the sense of pressure which the tunnels imposed on its occupants. However, it had no effect at all on the underground-dwelling Dwarves. The tunnels might have seemed narrow, but they were quite spacious to the Dwarves. Given that the average height of a Dwarf was around 130cm, a tunnel of around 180cm across was broad enough for them.
Before long, the sound of footsteps came from ahead.
If they were miners like Gondo and the others, they should have heard the sound of a minecart as well. However, there was nothing of the sort. What was this, then? If it was the patapata of bare feet on the ground, they would have dumped everything and fled back to where they came. However, that was not the case; the footsteps sounded like they had been made with boots.
They had an idea of who might be making those sounds.
Soon, they saw a squad of Dwarves.
Gondo and the others pressed themselves to the sides of the walls so as not to impede their progress. Well, they did that, but the minecart still took up space in the middle of the tunnel, so saying that they were trying to keep out of their way was merely wishful thinking on the part of Gondo and the others.
"—Heading up? There's nothing there now, but be careful anyway."
"Ah, thanks for your concern. We're very grateful for your help."
After that brief exchange, they parted ways with Gondo's crew.
The Dwarf at their head was a tunnel doctor, a magic caster from an alternative system.
His job was to cast spells which would reinforce the ceiling and prevent chunks from falling out of it, keeping the miners from being hurt by sharp edges in the rocks they were excavating, and so on.
It was critical to shore up the tunnels due to the constant danger of their collapse, but wood — the most commonly-used material for such reinforcement — was hard to come by in the Dwarven Kingdom. Thus, tunnel doctors used their magic to strengthen the walls of the tunnels.
In addition, they could tell if they were digging too close to water or gas. With them around, the miners could work in peace, without having to worry about collapse and the like.
Behind the tunnel doctor — who had many important jobs to perform — were lightly-armored Dwarven warriors.
Tunnel doctors were not common, which was why they were escorted by four men.
After they passed each other, the sound of their footsteps faded into the distance.
Much like other Dwarven cities, the city of Fio Kula sat at the heart of several ore veins which it worked. Only the west remained unexcavated for some reason. It lay beneath the earth, under the steep slopes of several sheer peaks.
In contrast to their casual, easygoing attitudes, the Dwarves were excellent mathematicians. The many tunnels which radiated from the city like blood vessels from a heart were the product of intricate calculations, and they formed geometric works of art once they were excavated. Tracks were laid down in the larger main tunnels for minecarts, while hand-powered elevators serviced the shafts which had been sunk for vertical mining. In addition, there were the countless smaller tunnels which emanated from them. When added up, the distance these tunnels spanned easily exceeded several hundred kilometers.
Due to their size, there was no way to fully man them with guards. Even guarding every single shift of miners was beyond them. Therefore, if a monster showed up, the miners had no choice but to drop everything and flee back to the nearest critical juncture, where guards would be stationed.
Unfortunately, as the people on the surface knew well, the Dwarves all had short legs. It would take a miracle for every single person to escape with their lives.
Gondo and the others halted their minecart in the middle of the passage and activated their magical lanterns. They then proceeded into a side passage with their mining tools in hand. Their destination lay at the end of the tunnel ahead — their dig site for the day.
Gagaiz gave his orders, and the miners moved to their positions without any complaints. One to swing his pickaxe and dig, one to split the bedrock with wedges, one to shovel the earth and rock into a basket, one to carry the basket to the minecart, one to push the minecart to the spoil tip—
"All right, let's start."
And with that, the day's work began.
***
Despite their developed muscles, the countless mechanical repetitions of their work meant that their bodies craved rest the moment their labors ceased.
They stripped off their work clothes and headed to the miners-only bathhouse.
This bathhouse ran off the tremendous amount of heat given off by the gigantic crucibles of the national foundries. Though the water was not very hot, it was the perfect temperature to melt away the fatigue accumulated by their tired bodies.
Gondo filled a ladle with hot, brownish water from a basin, and then dumped it on himself with no reservation.
It would seem there was some sort of iron content in the water, and indeed, one would be able to taste something if they swilled it in their mouths.
This hot water cleansed Gondo's body of the dirt which clung to it.
He scrubbed hard at his beard and his hair. A dwarf who did not care for and clean their beard could hardly be considered an adult.
"Oi, Gondo! How about getting a drink after this!" Gagaiz shouted as he scrubbed at himself with a towel from a stool opposite of him.
Gondo dumped more hot water on his head and settled into the hot tub before shouting back:
"Afraid I'll have to decline! I've work later on which can't be put off! Another time, perhaps!"
"Really now! What a shame! If you change your mind, come down to the White Beer Pavilion and have a cup or two with us!"
"Oh! I'll look forward to it!"
Gagaiz then moved on to talk with his other buddies, and before anyone else could ask him out, Gondo rose from the tub with an, "I'll be off now!" and strode off.
After towelling himself dry and putting on his clean everyday clothes, Gondo walked up to the counter with the sinister-looking Dwarf manager. He took off the necklace he was wearing and handed it over.
The manager looked it over, and then placed a pouch on the counter.
This was five days' worth of wages. Due to the fairly high mortality rate in the mines, wages were calculated on a weekly basis. Apparently they had paid a daily rate in the past, but that led to situations where the workers did not have enough to drink at taverns. One could say that the present system was designed to cater to that sad state of affairs. While the pouch before him did contain a sizable sum, Gagaiz and the others would probably spend half of that on beer.
"...Gondo, it's been a month, if you count today. Let me look upon your face."
"It's fine. There's no problem with my breathing."
"I'll be the judge of that, not you."
He picked up a handlight from the counter, and shone it at Gondo.
Gondo was not happy at the bright illumination, but he continued looking forward.
Inhaling dust particles over long durations degraded the functional capacity of one's lungs. This caused the skin to gradually turn pale. That condition was called Whitesnow Sickness, and this examination was to see if he was showing any signs of it.
"...Hmph, you do look well."
"That disease causes strange sounds while breathing. If there are no sounds, then it's fine, right?"
"...Yes. In truth, I used to discover the symptoms in that way. However, examining the face is more accurate than listening to the lungs. Or are you making light of my experience?"
"Perish the thought. Experience is vital."
"Then cease your petty griping. It helps nobody. Also, Gondo. Have you not considered a permanent position here? You could be a crew leader. After all, you are quite experienced in that field."
"Allow me to beg off on that, for I cannot... I will need to leave after this, and I have already accumulated the funds for my travels."
Gondo had scrimped and saved to the extent that people considered him antisocial, but in truth that was all to purchase the items needed to travel.
"...And where will you be headed now?"
"I intend to delve into the abandoned city, Feoh Raiđō of the south, and go digging there."
The sinister-looking Dwarf manager's eyes went wide as he heard this.
"What!... I trust my asking is redundant, but you do know that place is a dangerous region, no? Who will you be travelling with?"
"To the former question: I am abundantly aware of that. To the latter, my answer is no."
The more people who moved together, the higher the chances of discovery. Once discovered, some or all of them might have to die. Rather than risk that, it would be better to go alone, and lower the chances of being found.
"...Did you leave something behind there?"
"No. I told you, did I not? I plan to go digging."
"It is the nature of that digging which baffles me. Can you not do enough digging here?"
"Hmph! It matters not how hard I work here... well, there are subsidies for the amount that we move, but that is merely a fixed sum. The truth is, working here simply does not pay enough."
"It pays better than regular work."
The Dwarf before him was right. Gondo had chosen to work here because he needed to raise funds in a short period of time.
"Not enough for my aims. That is why I intend to go digging around in the abandoned city. None may gainsay my claim, no matter what kind of metal I excavate."
The manager knitted his brows into a mass.
Gondo's words might have been quite extreme, but he was also correct.
"You seek the white iron, then?"
"Yes, exactly. After all, nobody will quibble with me if I recover it from there."
The fundamental fact was that all these mines were nationalized. Thus, one would have to pay an appropriate — appropriately high — price if they wanted white iron. However, anything one dug out of an abandoned mine was essentially finders keepers. However, if anything happened to them there, the country would not provide any assistance, of course.
"...Would you sell it to me? I'll pay well, of course."
They had not yet dug up white iron from the mineral veins near this city. Thus, once the ores ran out, the price of the metal would rise asymptotically.
However, Gondo knew that the Dwarf before him was not making that proposal out of self-interest. He was doing so purely out of the kindness of his heart.
He probably intended to negotiate with Gondo with a higher price than what a middleman would charge. However, Gondo was not digging the white iron up to sell it — in other words, he was not prospecting for profit.
"How shall I say this... I have already decided what to use it for. It will all be going to my research."
A shadow fell across the sinister-looking Dwarf's face.
"Are you still saying that sort of thing... Well, I cannot say I do not understand how you feel, but should you not face reality and settle down here as a crew leader? What would your father think?"
In that moment, anger blazed up in Gondo's heart. However, he lowered his face to hide the rage twisting it before it could show. After all, the Dwarf before him had helped Gondo's father many times before. That was why he was so concerned about Gondo, his son, immersing himself in research that could not possibly bear fruit.
While the other man had said what he had out of goodwill, Gondo could not bring himself to accept those words.
"I face reality every day. Father did not walk a false path. I will revive the arts that were lost!"
In the end, he could not hold back his wrath completely. As he vented the dregs of his rancor with those words, Gondo turned and strode away without looking back.
He felt guilty about making people worry for him, but it was overruled by the passion he felt for what he had to do, no matter the cost.
Yes.
That was what he lived for, as someone who could not be compared to his outstanding father.
Gondo bit his lip, and looked forward.