Chapter 8
0.
Doloris must have had many questions for me.
After all, I was the guy who had brought her Sun Dwarf equipment. And not just any equipment—it was made by a Descendant of Fire.
She couldn't help but wonder how I had endured the trials, or where I had seen the book.
She couldn't help but wonder what kind of person I was.
But it seemed she was the type to care more about results than the process.
“Watch Ruby for me.”
Since the results were good, she was the type to set aside questions about the process for the moment.
Doloris hurriedly packed her things, then handed the sleeping little girl over to me, all at once.
“Me?”
Why?
No, what did she trust me with a child for?
“Ruby is still too young to enter the Tower.”
So what did that have to do with me…?
“I'll be back today, so don't worry.”
Then Doloris stopped with her packed luggage in hand and turned to look at me.
“You'll look after her, right?”
At that moment, Doloris's eyes fixed directly on me.
I endured her gaze for a moment and chose an answer that would let me off the hook as much as possible.
“…May I discipline her a little if she doesn't listen? I don't really like children.”
“……”
Doloris didn't answer.
Instead, she looked into my eyes for a moment longer, then slowly smiled, seemingly satisfied.
“This is a first.”
Huh?
“The first time you've lied to me.”
Had she seen through another lie?
What a convenient ability. I wouldn't be able to fudge things appropriately in the future, either.
So she had caught me.
“I'll let it slide this time because it's cute, so take good care of her.”
- Swish.
Doloris gently brushed back the bangs from Ruby's sleeping face, then.
- Smack.
She lightly kissed Ruby's forehead and went straight outside.
- Click.
The door closed, and.
Only the sleeping little girl and I remained inside the cabin.
My estimated age: probably thirteen.
Ruby, sleeping in front of me: probably thirteen.
Since I had never had so much as a niece, let alone a daughter.
This was the moment my head began to ache.
1.
My head aching was one thing.
But I still had to do what needed to be done.
Equipment that had left Doloris so flustered and astonished.
The elite blacksmiths of the Sun Dwarves, otherwise known as the Descendants of Fire.
It would be good to learn more about the equipment they made, as well as the Descendants of Fire themselves.
I couldn't leave the cabin anyway.
I had to take care of the little girl when she woke up.
“Yuna.”
As quietly as possible.
“Do some crawling.”
I had looked into it once before, but something about it… felt off.
They seemed to be a more valuable profession than I had realized.
[Keyword → Descendant of Fire / Sun Dwarf Elite Blacksmith]
That was good, but….
“Can you unlock the permissions and go deeper, like last time?”
[…….]
[…….]
The search screen above the hologram flickered quite a bit.
It was usually quick and nimble, so there must have been a lot of information.
[It seems there are hardly any Descendants of Fire left now.]
“…I see.”
[And this was scraped from unofficial material, not the official records, okay?]
[Thirteen years ago, one Descendant of Fire wrote something just before dying.]
[It seems to be something only people in the know are aware of, but the Elite Blacksmith Association apparently recorded it on the community.]
A statement made before his death, posted on the community?
Well, considering the Descendants of Fire's manual was there too… the community's understanding and concept of things must be different from mine.
Text resembling a scan of yellowed parchment appeared above the hologram.
ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ
‘Never mind the trials—none of them hammer anything themselves anymore. They input the blueprint, insert the ore, and press a button in front of a mass-production machine made by the Dwarves.’
‘What comes out are swords and armor bearing mass-produced engravings.’
‘People believe those are ours.’
‘No.’
‘Those belong to the machines, not to us.’
‘A true blacksmith… no longer exists.’
ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ
It seemed this place needed a Luddite movement too.
The only difference was that, from the dwarves' perspective, things seemed to have become more convenient.
So that was why demand for equipment made by Descendants of Fire was higher than demand for mass-produced equipment.
Now it made sense.
Of course, even if demand was high, there didn't seem to be anyone left to fill it.
And the difference in performance… they said the quality became more distinct as a Descendant of Fire grew.
That meant I could grow too.
“Open.”
I stretched languidly and opened the Sun Dwarves' metallurgy book.
Then I had no choice but to grow.
Reading is never wasted….
I calmly read through the manuals.
2.
Moving between floors in the residential areas, rather than the Tower's climbing areas, was not particularly difficult.
Doloris boarded the Tower's inter-floor transport device.
Her destination was Floor 88, the floor ruled by the Sun Dwarves.
Equipment itself could be verified at the ordinary Dwarf verification centers found every fifteen floors, but.
Given the equipment and its engraving, it would be a problem unless an excellent dwarf at the main branch handled it personally.
- Whummm….
The moment the transport device's light faded, heat rushed in from every direction.
“……”
No matter how many times she saw it, this was a landscape she could never get used to.
First came the overwhelming height of the ceiling—or rather, the absence of a ceiling.
Even when she looked up, she couldn't see the end. Everywhere her eyes reached, there were bridges, pulleys, air ducts, and more bridges.
Golden furnaces hung among the endless framework.
And below, when she lowered her gaze from the platform, a river flowed between the platforms.
It was lava.
The artery of Floor 88, commonly called the Dwarves' River by people outside the Tower.
Normally, the river would flow along, be distributed to the furnaces throughout the framework, then merge and flow onward.
…That was how it was supposed to be.
Now, the river flowed in exactly one direction.
Toward the large grayish-white building visible in the distance.
The Sun Dwarf Company.
Only there.
In a forge this large, there was no sound of people hammering away by hand.
Instead, only the sounds of machines came from every direction: presses slamming down on ore, machines turning gears, and conveyor belts moving.
She stepped along the platform to the sound of those machines.
In fact, she didn't dislike this place. Her perpetually cold body felt as though it thawed, if only a little, here.
In that sense, the gloves Lionel had given her were, in fact, already….
- Tap.
Just then.
Someone was walking toward her from the edge of the platform.
“…Lady Doloris.”
“Hello.”
“Why did you come without contacting us? You startled me.”
His clothing was completely out of place against the backdrop—a business suit.
Only his build was unmistakably dwarven.
“I didn't come here today because I have business with the Dwarf Company.”
“…I see.”
The Sun Dwarves were a proud race obsessed with tradition, so it was inconceivable that they would come out to greet anyone, whether Doloris or someone else.
The Dwarf Company was different. Someone of her standing, a ruler of another floor, would at least be seen off.
She didn't know the details, but apparently the dwarves had split into two factions.
The traditionalists and the industrialists.
The business suit before her presumably represented the industrialists, but.
It wasn't her concern.
“Then, may I ask what brings you here?”
“……”
Doloris smiled sweetly instead of answering.
“I hope you achieve what you seek.”
Understanding her intentions, the dwarf gave a slight bow and withdrew.
Doloris paid him no further attention and walked along the platform.
Her destination was the verification center.
After passing the mass-production line, she reached a corner where the light barely reached.
The verification center was there.
- Creak….
The door was made of worn wood, unlike what she had seen until now.
In fact, this felt a little closer to the Sun Dwarves.
When she opened the door, the smell of coal dust reached her.
Scents scorched by fire.
“……”
Someone inside the room slowly raised his head toward her.
He was an old dwarf.
His beard was grizzled, and every knuckle was covered in calluses.
There was no business suit anywhere. Only an old apron, with a sun engraving on it.
“Who might you be?”
“I came to request an appraisal.”
“…Mass-produced quality control is over there….”
The long-bearded dwarf bowed his head and turned away.
However, Doloris immediately added,
“This is an appraisal of equipment made by a Descendant of Fire.”
“……”
He stopped.
He rose from his chair and looked at Doloris.
His eyes, which had seemed lifeless until then, like a completely burned wick, suddenly shone sharply.
Doloris took out the gloves in response.
“This is that blacksmith's equipment….”
“Counterfeit.”
The dwarf shook his head the instant he saw the gloves.
“The burn marks on the surface, the way the leather has been broken in. They were made no more than a day or two ago. There hasn't been a new Descendant of Fire capable of making gloves like these in the past few decades, so they must be counterfeit.”
There was no room for rebuttal.
It was a decisive answer that seemed unworthy of even a response.
Doloris found the answer quite irritating, too.
“It's unfortunate, after coming such a long way.”
The dwarf's eyes slowly sank.
He had just voiced the state of his dying race twice with his own mouth, so there was no way he could feel good.
The woman before him was famous.
Surely she understood by now.
Yet Doloris had no intention of leaving.
“There isn't any difficulty in having them appraised.”
- Thud.
A pouch full of coins was placed on the table.
“The verification center's role is to verify. I didn't ask you to tell me whether they're genuine.”
“……Ha.”
‘This is why nobles….’
To interpret her meaning, it was this.
I came here to have them verified.
Don't get above yourself and just do your job.
Doloris hadn't exactly been kind by nature to begin with.
The dwarf's feelings and sympathy vanished in an instant.
‘Even when they have good intentions, nobles never listen… Still, I earned today's drinking money.’
Climbers were always like this. Nobles were even worse.
The dwarf said no more and snatched the gloves, placing them on the workbench.
Appraising equipment was simple.
It was analyzed through an appraisal device containing the wisdom of the ancestors.
The complicated mechanisms and special magic circuits embedded within it recognized engravings and distinguished genuine items from counterfeits.
- Whummm….
The machine began operating.
He couldn't even remember how long it had been since he last ran it.
There was no need to use a machine to identify counterfeits. The things that came in these days could be dismissed after touching them once.
So this was merely a formality. A formality to humor a noble lady.
Until then.
The old dwarf, Furam, hadn't even spared the gloves a glance.
But as he thought that, he happened to look down at the gloves.
“……”
The gray sun engraving caught his eye.
He sensed that something was strange.
‘…The fundamentals.’
The beginning of every engraving. The apprentice's engraving, the first one anyone ever inscribed.
Furam's brow narrowed. It was strange.
Those who dared to claim their counterfeits were made by Descendants of Fire always imitated the engravings of famous, celebrated craftsmen.
A craftsman's engraving was essentially the logo of a luxury brand.
But who—what kind of lunatic—would put the logo of a counterfeit on it in the form of the most shabby apprentice engraving?
What possible use would that have?
The machine began to operate.
The magical circuits engraved in the appraisal device glowed blue-hot.
It projected the gloves and formed an image.
The appraisal result was then.
Printed onto the paper placed beside the printer.
- Bzzzz….
- Thump.
Furam felt, perhaps, that his heart was beating.
Something was different. His heart had had no reason to beat while he grew old in this back room, staring only at counterfeits.
- Whirr.
The printer pushed out the paper.
Furam couldn't wait any longer and snatched it up.
And the result was.
[Match 100/100]
[Descendant of Fire]
─────────────────
『For the Descendant who has taken their first step.』
『You are clumsy. But you are undoubtedly blazing.』
『Please, do not grow cold.』
『If you have lost your way, come to Voldr's workshop——』
— Voldr, Seventh Master Craftsman and creator of the appraisal device —
─────────────────
A match of 100. The gloves before his eyes were genuine.
Furam's vision immediately blurred.
This appraisal device had been made by the Master Craftsman of a previous generation, a great man who had stood at the end of the Descendants of Fire.
One hundred years ago, he had designed the circuits himself, engraved the markings, and completed the final hammering with his own hands.
Yet this was the first time Furam had seen such words and such an arrangement hidden inside it.
In a hundred years, it had never once failed to distinguish a genuine item.
Equipment made by a true Descendant of Fire.
It had appeared on this machine for the first time in a hundred years.
“Ugh….”
It was a perfect genuine article.
“…Aaaaaah!!!”
Furam shouted the instant he saw the inspection sheet.
From his reaction, Doloris could tell what the result must have been.
- Thump.
Her heart was beating too.
She couldn't say for certain, but perhaps that little one really had worked a miracle.
And then.
- Whirr.
After the verification result,
the appraisal result was printed as well.
“Aaaaaah!!”
Leaving Furam still shouting behind her, Doloris picked up the appraisal certificate that had been printed separately.
Furam was groaning behind her, but she could no longer hear him.
Feeling the freshly printed paper slowly cooling, Doloris turned over the appraisal certificate.
And then.
─────────────────
[Apprentice Blacksmith's Insulated Gloves][★☆☆☆☆][Unique Equipment]
─────────────────
『I made them with care, thinking of Doloris….』
- Apprentice Blacksmith L -
─────────────────
In one corner of the paper.
There was a single phrase, quietly written there.
“……”
Apprentice Blacksmith L, Lionel.
That Lionel had made them for her.
Made them with care, thinking of her.
“Pfft….”
She covered her mouth with the back of her hand and laughed elegantly.
‘What have I ever done for him….’
How long had it been since she had received a gift made ‘with care’ for her?
And without asking for anything in return.
She couldn't even remember. The expression itself was so unfamiliar that even its pronunciation felt strange.
“Pfffttt….”
Her cheeks grew faintly flushed.
“…How kind.”
A little, at least, it felt like she had received a confession.
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