The Dwarven Crafter

by Kugane Maruyama

  The frost giants were aware of these facts, too. If Olasird’arc was in their position, he wouldn’t let an opportunity slip by and wait for his enemy to increase in number—he would attack. If he lost this land, there was no way the giant tribes wouldn’t band together to attack before he found a new stronghold.

  Olasird’arc looked around at the queens lounging nearby.

  There were three female dragons.

  Minataron Fuvienes was the youngest and had a single pale-blue horn.

  Munwinia Ilisusulim had battled with Olasird’arc for territory several times.

  Chiristoran Denshushwa was the sole dragon in these lands who could use faith magic, albeit only tier one.

  “What do you all think?”

  “…Why not lend them your power? Defeating the dwarves will be almost nothing for you.”

  “I agree. I couldn’t care less what that thing said earlier, but if the dwarves know we’re here but are still coming to attack, they’re underestimating us. We need to burn some fear into those impudent little creatures’ hearts.” Munwinia gave the floor a scrape with her claws.

  Olasird’arc shifted his gaze to Chiristoran. “And what do you think?”

  “I’m against but also for it. Against because we don’t know if it’s really the dwarves or not. And if someone is attacking despite the knowledge that we’re here, we should really consider how strong they may be. The idea of destroying the city sounds preposterous, but given the dwarves’ technology, building in a mechanism like that probably wouldn’t be impossible. It would be foolish to not address the matter one way or another.”

  Olasird’arc gave a wry smile. She was so contrarian. He loved it. “Seems like more are in favor of action. Very well, I’ll entertain the wishes of the inferior kuagoa.”

  “Thank you, master!”

  Coldly looking down on the prostrate kuagoa, Olasird’arc announced, “You owe me ten times what you just presented.”

  “T-ten times?”

  Olasird’arc scoffed when the kuagoa raised his face. “You haven’t even explained who the attackers are, so what can you expect? And…? What’s your plan? If you’re not going to pay, then you can deal with this on your own.”

  “P-please wait! We’ll give it to you! Please allow us to make the offering!”

  Olasird’arc suddenly had a thought.

  Did the kuagoa even have enough gold to match his request? Or were the dwarves so incredibly strong that they would accept even if they struggled to pay?

  Well, either way was fine. If they failed to meet his demands as promised, he could do like Munwinia said and burn some indelible fear into the weaklings’ hearts.

  “Very well, be gone.”

  “Yes, master! And when can we humbly expect your presence?”

  “I’ll be there right away. Just wait until then.”

  “Understood!”

  As Olasird’arc watched the kuagoa go, Minataron asked, “You’re going?”

  “Ha, no.”

  Olasird’arc was the strongest dragon in the land. Even if he was going to be compensated, it would be ridiculous for him to personally fight on behalf of his slaves. Which was why…

  “I’ll send someone else. Which child would be good for this?”

  By that, he meant which one of his children should go. Apart from the queens, all the dragons here were of his blood.

  “If possible, one of mine.”

  “Yours? Who?”

  Chiristoran had four children with Olasird’arc. They had all lived for over a hundred years and were far more powerful than the kuagoa.

  “The eldest.”

  “Hejinmaar?” Olasird’arc’s expression was sober.

  “He does use his head, you know. He’ll figure out the identity of these intruders, and I’m sure if it’s the dwarves, he’ll be able to negotiate with them to your benefit. You’re sick of having kuagoa servants, aren’t you?”

  “Can he really manage such a thing? Wouldn’t someone else be better?”

  Olasird’arc agreed with Minataron’s comment.

  “He’s better than Tranjelitt.”

  “…Chiristoran. The most important thing for a dragon is physical strength. It’s impossible to force someone strong and quick to their knees with intellect. Olasird’arc was able to defeat me because he was more powerful. Get that through your head. Tranjelitt has a splendid body and is far superior to Hejinmaar.”

  Tranjelitt was one of Olasird’arc’s children, borne by Munwinia, and was the strongest of all the offspring.

  “But someone who can’t think for themselves is a risk. If you send a child who kills kuagoa for no reason, there’s no telling what’ll happen.”

  “That’s enough.” Olasird’arc interrupted before Munwinia could retort. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Minataron looked disappointed a fight hadn’t broken out.

  “I’ll take Chiristoran’s suggestion. Call Hejinmaar.”

  “Impossible. Hejinmaar won’t come out.”

  Olasird’arc sensed that his plans had been making no progress from the get-go.

  Munwinia chuckled with a faint nastiness. He didn’t want another fight to start. Olasird’arc raised his voice slightly.

  “We can just break down the door and drag him out.”

  “Oh? You’re the one who said not to destroy your castle. That’s why I haven’t done anything like that yet. I take it I have permission now? The door might not be the end of it, though.”

  Certainly, he did remember making that rule before. Dragons may have been dexterous, but they weren’t able to build doors. And they didn’t have the magic necessary to do it, either. Once something was broken, it was broken.

  The White Dragonlord found the idea of living in a castle full of holes shameful, so he had given strict orders to his queens and children to be careful.

  If he ordered one of them, they would probably go, but…

  “Fine. I’ll go.”

  “I’ll leave it to you.”

  Olasird’arc cast a disappointed look at Chiristoran.

  He wasn’t satisfied with going himself, as the king. Maybe I should have some kuagoa servants living in the castle for times like this.

  But like every other time he had considered that idea, he rejected it.

  He couldn’t stand the thought of lower life-forms like kuagoa prancing around in his home. Someday he would defeat the giants and take on some of them as servants. Until then, he would simply have to be patient.

  •

  Considering the height of dwarves, the palace they built was surprisingly large. That was why dragons were able to live in it, but it also meant that going from one end to another involved crossing quite a distance.

  Olasird’arc climbed higher and higher until he reached a large door on what was nearly the top floor.

  He called through it. “It’s me. Open the door.”

  He waited a little while, but there was no sign of movement on the other side.

  There was no way he was out. The son in this room was a shut-in. Olasird’arc had almost no memories of ever seeing him leave. Apparently, his little brothers and sisters even brought him his meals.

  His attitude—pretending to be gone to ignore his father, the king—was quite irritating.

  “I’ll say it again. It’s me. Open up.”

  Dragons had sharp senses. A shout this loud, the son inside would hear, and even if he was sleeping, it would wake him up.

  But the door didn’t open.

  The anger that welled up was channeled directly into action.

  Olasird’arc struck the door with his tail.

  Taking that blow from an object thick as a great tree trunk and covered in scales harder than iron, the door emitted a crushing sound. It seemed the dwarves who built it hadn’t taken into account that it might one day be struck by a dragon tail.

  Olasird’arc sensed movement inside, but it wasn’t enough to quell his rage.

  He struck the door again, an
d this time it was considerably damaged and crumbled rocks flew into the room like scattershot.

  From inside came a pathetic “Eeeek!”

  “Get out here. Now!”

  The roar had the dragon up and out instantaneously.

  Frost dragons had slender trunks. But this one looked different. Frankly, he was fat.

  A dragon with little spectacles on the end of his snout looked timidly up at Olasird’arc.

  The child was so pathetic, he had to sigh.

  Of course, there was nothing to be done about the fact that he was nervous before the ruler of the land. But this was his child, so he would have liked if he had a bit more vigor in his eyes.

  And that sad physique. He’s less like a dragon and more like a lardon.

  Honestly, maybe it’s humiliating to have a kid like this go out in my place.

  As Olasird’arc was thinking those things, his son, frightened to have his dad staring at him like that, asked, “F-Father, wh-what in the world is it?”

  Still, he was a dragon. And dragons gained power as they grew up. So even with that obese body, he could probably fight to some extent.

  “I have a job for you, Hejinmaar.”

  “A-a job?”

  “Yes. Apparently, dwarves or some such are attacking the kuagoa. Repel them.”

  “Eep.”

  “Eep?”

  “N-no, I didn’t say anything, Father. M-more importantly, I, uh, hmm, I don’t have much confidence in my physical abilities, I guess you could say…?”

  “Then, what are you confident in? Do you think you can slay them with magic?”

  As dragons developed, they acquired arcane magic skills. But it wasn’t much—certainly not enough to be called a caster. But some dragons did learn moves that used magic.

  One of Olasird’arc’s queens, Chiristoran Denshushwa, was a perfect example. Or there was the Blue Sky Dragonlord, Svelia Myronsilk, one of the councilors of the council state who had druid powers and used faith magic. Reportedly, another dragon far to the east trained to be a holy knight and was able to use spells from various trees.

  “…Well, uh, since I don’t have a master, I’m just studying on my own…”

  “Then, what are you doing locked up in here all the time?”

  An intense light filled Hejinmaar’s eyes. “Studying. I’m accumulating knowledge.”

  “What? Knowledge? You mean groping for the ability to wield arcane magic?”

  “N-no. Father, studying isn’t just for learning magic. I’m deepening my cultural knowledge, learning how this city was built, what sorts of races live in this world, and so on.”

  “…I don’t know what you’re talking about. Does learning all that toughen you up? If you don’t get stronger, it’s meaningless, isn’t it?”

  There was nothing more important in this world than acquiring strength. It was a world where living without growing more powerful was impossible. Life meant getting stronger. Not doing that was tantamount to refuting life itself.

  Just then, even though his son did his best to hide it, he noticed Hejinmaar had reacted with a seemingly exasperated expression.

  “What? If there’s something you want to say, say it.”

  His son said nothing. The pitiful attitude was aggravating.

  Right as he was about to yell at him, he remembered why he had come.

  He wasn’t worried about what happened to the kuagoa, but he needed the reward.

  “Staying cooped up inside poring over books till you lose your speed isn’t going to help you. If you want to amass knowledge, you should get out and see the world, don’t you think?”

  Olasird’arc had been swiftly losing interest in Hejinmaar. Did you really let your flesh grow so saggy for this utter nonsense? Running out of patience, he no longer cared about what happened to this particular child of his.

  “I—I was getting ready to do that. If I don’t know what kind of beings are out there, I might die before I get to see them.”

  “How about you just die, then? You’re a fool. Why didn’t you pursue strength from the start? If you have strength, there is nothing to fear going out into the world. Just look at me.”

  “But, Father, it’s important to know what powerful beings live where. Frost giants are a difficult opponent even for you, right? If you got on their bad side without knowing that—”

  “—I’m not scared of frost giants.”

  “Th-then, do excuse me, Father.”

  Olasird’arc’s shoulders slumped when he saw his son rubbing his face into the ground before him.

  “That’s enough. I have orders for you. Follow them. Then you have a month before I’m kicking you out. That way you can live however you please.”

  3

  “Haaagh…”

  In the tunnel leading to the capital, Hejinmaar emitted a sigh identical to his father’s.

  “I’m just not so good at fighting.”

  It was worse than not so good. He was so weak, he had a feeling he would lose to his younger brother in a fight. When he was anxious, he tended to talk to himself more.

  “I hope…the sight of me is enough to scare them away.”

  Hejinmaar sucked in his stomach with a grunt. Then he put up his claws and opened his mouth wide. He figured he looked a bit more dragon-like that way.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.”

  He carefully took the spectacles off the tip of his snout and hid them nearby. They weren’t rare magic items or anything, but if they broke, there was no way to get a replacement pair. He had to take good care of them.

  “Haaagh… I heard you can make tough armor out of dragon scales. I guess I just have to pray the dwarves aren’t that barbaric of a race.”

  If they are, then what?

  No, they must be—I got the info about using dragon scales out of a dwarven book.

  Hejinmaar steeled himself to keep from trembling.

  He knew the kuagoa from the city were watching him. Really, he would have liked to move farther down the tunnel to fight where there weren’t so many onlookers, but his father had prohibited it, saying that would prevent the kuagoa from seeing him fight.

  His father had told him to figure out who was attacking and, if possible, bring them under his rule, but the dragonlord had no intentions of allowing a friendly approach. It was an order to put on a display of power to subjugate the weak.

  In other words, defeat here was synonymous with death. If Hejinmaar fought and lost, he would probably die, and even if he managed to survive losing the battle, the kuagoa would respect the dragons less and his father would kill him out of displeasure.

  Why not just run away, then? Either way, I’ll be kicked out in a month anyhow.

  The idea itself wasn’t horrible, but he felt he could use the month of prep time.

  In the end, his best bet was to defeat and subjugate the dwarves.

  Hejinmaar blew using his breath power.

  The bitter cold frosted the wall.

  “Good! I can blow chill normally. That’s fine for my age.”

  That was one of the dragons’ most powerful moves, Dragon Breath. In a frost dragon’s case, it was Chill Breath, but either way, it became more powerful as the dragon grew. Hejinmaar’s was normal for his age, so he could rely on it more than his general physical abilities.

  “…But still.”

  Everyone with even a little knowledge knew how terrible Dragon Breath was. After all, it was a power every type of dragon had.

  It was even written about in the dwarves’ books. Surely the ones headed this way had come up with some kind of countermeasure to deal with it.

  Hejinmaar’s despair mounted.

  His father had said it, too, but maybe if he could really use magic, things would be different…

  “I’m nothing but a sacrificial pawn…”

  His elder brothers obeyed their father and had proper dragon-like personalities. If his father was sending him out instead of entrusting this duty to them, it had to mea
n he didn’t care whether his shut-in son died or not.

  All he could do was lament his fate.

  If he hadn’t encountered books and known the pleasure of slaking his thirst for knowledge, it never would’ve come to this, but there was no point in regretting it now.

  His nose twitched.

  When he listened intently, he could hear multiple sets of footsteps approaching through the cave.

  It was clear from the sounds of shoes that they weren’t kuagoa.

  Dwarves? If there are so few…do they think they can win with numbers that small? Or is it a scouting party? If I defeat them, can I assume my work is finished and go home?

  If he really forced it, he could interpret his father’s orders as a request to simply drive off this scouting party. The question was whether that excuse would fly or not.

  In the hazy glow of the fluorescent ore, there appeared to be four figures, although they were too far away to make out what sort.

  Are the three little ones dwarves? Then, what’s the big one? None of the races related to dwarves is that big. Does that mean that just like how the kuagoa asked Father for help, the dwarves turned to this guy?

  Whether it was someone the dwarves asked for help or not, the big figure was probably the one Hejinmaar needed to be wary of.

  But whatever the size, his opponent was still no match for a dragon.

  Would it be better to take the initiative and use my breath? Hejinmaar rejected that idea immediately. No. I should ask what their goal is and find a way to settle this through negotiation.

  A normal dragon would have immediately launched themselves into a fight. But Hejinmaar lacked confidence and wasn’t interested in getting beaten, so he was looking for the safest way to resolve things.

  Before long, his sharp dragon eyes—though slightly less keen than a typical dragon’s—made out that the figure leading the way was not a dwarf.

  I’ve seen one of those in a book before! That’s one of those dark elves said to live deep in the forest.