Translator: Cinder Translations
...
After negotiating the payment with the dwarf named Imar, Stanford finally felt a bit relieved. After all, it's disconcerting when a stranger suddenly offers to help you for no reason, especially when it involves some risk. But if he had some interest in it, that somehow made it more reassuring.
Stanford returned to the camp and announced the good news of finding a guide, which led to a cheer among the team members. Seeing this, Stanford immediately warned them not to leak any information.
He then ordered everyone to check their gear, sharpen their swords and guns, dry out the gunpowder, inspect the grenade fuses, and prepare incendiaries, striving to leave no room for error.
Maintaining a necessary level of vigilance was essential.
During this time, Eugene's orc caravan had already left. Stanford bid farewell to Finn, who could already be considered a friend, and gifted him a porcelain bowl. The young orc was delighted and eagerly invited Stanford to visit him in the grasslands if he had the chance.
Finally, after five days, the expedition team members anxiously awaited the news from the dwarf Imar—they were to depart the next morning.
When the agreed time arrived, Stanford led thirty team members, guiding their ten reindeer, loaded with supplies exchanged at the Blood Ox tribe, onto the road south.
Though called a road, it was actually a narrow strip of forest with fewer trees, where they trudged through snow and thick gray dead grass, struggling between the trees.
"Stay alert! Wild beasts could jump out at any moment, and if someone ends up as a stinking pile of dung, I'm not going to look for them!"
Stanford feared that the few days of rest at the Blood Ox tribe might have made the team lazy, so he reminded them regularly.
As the group advanced, the forest began to grow denser. Stanford occasionally checked his compass to ensure they were heading straight south.
Three pine trees, two shorter and one tall, came into view. The middle one was lush, with its dense needles forming several independent umbrella-like crowns, while the two shorter trees appeared diminutive next to the tall pine. Surrounding the three pines was a sizable clear area, which stood out in this densely wooded region.
"We've arrived; let's take a break here."
Without needing to remind them, this team, which had already been on land for a long time, didn't wander off, and those needing to relieve themselves went in small groups of three or four.
Stanford circled the pine tree, observing the surroundings, and found nothing unusual.
After waiting for over an hour, they still had not seen the guide.
Vice-Captain Matthew approached Stanford: "Do you think that dwarf might be deceiving us?"
Before Stanford could respond, he heard rustling sounds from the thicket to the west.
The vegetation in that direction was thick, even during the cold transition between winter and spring. Numerous shrubs intertwined with long gray branches, obscuring the view of the distance.
"Stay alert!" Matthew shouted.
Ten crossbows pointed towards that direction, while the others gripped their weapons tightly.
After a moment, a pair of hands with short, thick fingers pushed through the dense branches, and a round head poked out.
"It's me! It's me! I'm your guide, Imar."
The dwarf shouted hoarsely, "What the hell! Is there anyone with a kind heart who could come help me out?"
"Our guide is here!" Stanford signaled the others to lower their weapons.
He rushed forward, grasped Imar's wrist, and pulled the dwarf out of the thicket.
Imar rubbed his sore arm, "Oh, my arm! It almost dislocated. I had to suffer quite a bit to avoid detection; you'll need to pay more."
Stanford shook his head. "I say, old chap, do dwarves have a different concept of time? It's already been more than an hour."
"Let your concept of time go to hell! You're talking about hours with a dwarf who only knows how to measure time using the sun and hourglass? That's completely unrealistic." He stared longingly at the pocket watch hanging from Stanford's chest and extended a stubby finger toward it. "If you could give me that timer when we get there, maybe you could save a coin or two from that bag of silver."
When Stanford showed him the watch during their initial meeting, Imar's dwarven blood made him intensely curious about it. On a glass-covered surface, even markings formed a perfect circle, with three coaxial hands turning at different speeds along the circle, which fascinated him even more than porcelain.
Imar knew that there was a profession among humans called a "mechanic," which specialized in weird machines. Though such items were often impractical and not durable, the timer in front of him clearly did not belong to that category.
"I'll think about it!" Stanford concealed the watch in his pocket.
This action made the dwarf internally scoff—humph, in the end, it will still end up in my hands.
"Then, according to our agreement, please lead us... Hey! I say, old chap, you're dressed rather warmly today."
Stanford was surprised by the dwarf's outfit.
Imar was clad in tightly wrapped chainmail, wearing a helmet adorned with the horns of some unknown beast, and carried a spiked mace on his back, glistening with metal under the sunlight.
"Don't make a fuss!" the dwarf grumbled. "I don't want the beasts here to see me as a snack."
He waved his hand. "Let's get going; to avoid my kin, I'll take you along some 'off-paths,' which will take a bit longer than the usual route."
Stanford then ordered the team to set off again, following the dwarf southward.
...
"I say, why haven't I seen any dwarves south of the Rocky Mountains?"
On the way, Stanford chatted casually with Imar.
"Human, you're my employer, and I don't want to speak ill of my kin in front of you, but the elders repeatedly advise us not to interact too much with humans; this has been the practice of all clans since ancient times."
"Uh... that's pure prejudice. Why can you trade with orcs then?"
"They're simple-minded, not much in the way of twists and turns in their heads, so exchanging things with them isn't a loss. Plus, they aren't interested in our mountains and won't keep trying to pry into the secrets of entering the mountains."
Stanford frowned. "But from what I understand, there are often small groups of orcs raiding human villages in the eastern Rocky Mountains, and the defenses in the Neron Valley are tight; it's obvious they came down from the Rocky Mountains. Isn't that also your dwarven territory? How can there be orcs appearing?"
"What orcs? I don't know," Imar shook his head. "The eastern mountains are too far from our Hammer Clan."
Stanford was about to ask further when he suddenly heard some movement behind him from a distance.
He immediately turned to look, only to see a large flock of birds rising from the northern forest.
"Everyone be alert! There might be some large animals foraging nearby."
Imar touched the handle of his mace, saying thoughtfully.
(End of the Chapter)
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