My Master and His Master (5)

I had determined what I needed to do in this country, but it wasn't something that could be resolved overnight.

For one thing, if we wanted to increase the furnace's heat output, we would need not only a way to raise the heat, but also to build the furnace from a material capable of withstanding it.

Rajudor's furnace probably uses magic engraved into formulas to achieve both increased heat output and heat resistance.

...But what concerns me more is this: what on earth are the dwarves' secret treasure, which draws heat from the True Flame deep underground, made of?

If the mechanism really does draw heat from a True Flame deep underground, then the heat it must withstand should far exceed what is needed to process mithril.

Not only that, it would have to withstand immense pressure, and, above all, it would have to be unbelievably large and long.

The dwarves' secret treasure, which has probably existed since ancient times without succumbing to immense heat and pressure, was so far beyond my imagination that I couldn't even comprehend it.

Anyway, Azvaldo, my damn dwarf master, apparently has some ideas about heat-resistant materials, so I have no choice but to leave that to him.

So what I should do now is create an environment where Win and I can live as comfortably as possible in this dwarven country.

Specifically, I accompanied Azvaldo's wife on shopping trips and carried her bags. I also accepted an invitation from Grander, a dwarf miner, to have a drink, since he said it was an apology for what happened last time.

Incidentally, since this was such a remote place deep in the mountains, one might assume that the dwarves' food was terribly poor, but that wasn't actually the case.

Their staple food was a special kind of tuber that could grow without sunlight, while their side dishes consisted of mosses that grew underground as well.

Even so, both the tubers and the mosses were surprisingly delicious.

As for the main dishes, there was goat meat from goats raised aboveground in the mountains, as well as meat from monsters hunted when they came after those goats.

And, of course, alcohol was indispensable to the dwarves. They drank spirits made by distilling liquor brewed from tubers.

There were also luxury goods brought in from human lands.

Thus, when it came to food, I felt no particular inconvenience despite coming from outside.

But the best way to make this country more comfortable for me was still to properly prove that, as a smith, I possessed a respectable level of skill even by dwarven standards.

However, if I holed up in the forge at the mansion where I was staying and made something, the dwarves might suspect that Azvaldo had lent me a hand.

...No, perhaps no dwarf would bother thinking of something so troublesome, but just in case, I decided to work in someone else's forge.

Fortunately, there were forges all over this dwarven country, including some opened for apprentices to practice in.

Naturally, since it was a facility for training, the iron kept there was by no means of good quality. But Grander, with whom I had shared drinks, pulled some strings and gave me some good iron.

According to him, that was also part of his apology for what had happened last time.

Grander prided himself on his strength even among dwarves, and was particularly hot-tempered and quick to pick fights.

But once he acknowledged someone, he also had a tolerant and generous side.

It goes without saying that no one is made up of flaws alone—not even him, dwarf though he was.

The reverse was true as well, of course.

So, it had been a while since I had done any smithing.

I had already decided what to make.

Win was currently out looking around with Azvaldo's children, getting used to the dwarven country.

For his sake—for he had left Kaeha's dojo in the capital of the Kingdom of Rudoria, where he was used to living, and followed me here—I would forge a sword.

It was true that Win was a half-elf and that his body developed more slowly than a human's, but he had already been learning the sword for quite some time.

I would prepare a sword of his own, both for practice and for self-defense.

Even as a half-elf, Win was still growing, so in a few years the sword would probably become too short, too light, and unsatisfying.

When that happened, I could simply reforge it to fit him again.

Wasn't there something rather wonderful about the sword growing along with him as he grew?

The gazes of those around me were somewhat bothersome.

Why is an elf in a place like this?

Every one of them had questions in their eyes.

But not a single dwarf came over to pick a fight, probably because of the huge brawl I'd already had with Grander on the main street the other day.

Well, go ahead and look all you like.

I was used to standing out, and I didn't mind being tested.

I would make every dwarf here acknowledge me... and then we could all go to a tavern.

That was my immediate goal.

I quickly got everything ready and gauged the furnace's mood.

The fire spirit dwelling in the furnace welcomed me here as well.

It suddenly occurred to me that, when it came to fire spirits, I might be on the closest terms with them of all the elves and High Elves.

A High Elf who had interacted with fire spirits as much as I had probably didn't exist... No, not probably—there definitely wasn't another.

In other words, I was the High Elf who could draw the most assistance from fire spirits.

Thinking of it that way, Azvaldo, my damn dwarf master, had clearly been right to call me here.

The furnace's temperature rose rapidly.

Apparently, the fire spirit dwelling in this furnace liked things that were short-tempered, fierce, and powerful.

...Ah, I suppose that was a little like Grander.

Thinking that, I couldn't help but let a smile slip.

By the time all the preparations were complete, a large number of dwarves were watching me work.

It wasn't only the apprentices in training; many dwarves who looked like masters, presumably their teachers, had joined them as well.

Even though this was an apprentice training facility, if I displayed shoddy technique in a dwarven forge, they wouldn't let me get away with it.

Their gazes clearly said as much, giving me a pleasant sense of tension.

All right, this was a contest between the dwarves and me.

Look at me. Acknowledge me.

The hammer I brought down and the iron it struck rang out with the same good sound as always.