My Master and His Master (6)

It's probably been about a year since I came to the dwarven country; being underground, it's hard to tell.

On my days off, Win and I go outside the dwarven country to bask in the sunlight, but the dwarves don't seem to mind staying underground all the time. It really makes me feel how different our races are.

Ah, by now, we've become such familiar faces in the dwarven country that the gatekeepers let us through on sight.

The training forge kicked me out, saying I wasn't an apprentice in the slightest, but the dwarves I met there...

"You're long-lived, so you could even aim to become the next king of the dwarves."

They'd sometimes joke with me like that.

Of course, I couldn't possibly be a king who had to stay in one place; frankly, I wanted nothing to do with it. Still, I was genuinely happy that they'd acknowledged me.

Win started attending the school for dwarven children.

Apparently, it taught dwarven history, the structure of their society, the basics of smithing, and how to identify different metals, but... he would probably have little use for that knowledge outside this country.

But perhaps Win had somehow figured out what Azvaldo and I were aiming for.

He began trying to fit into the country, even if only a little, on his own.

Naturally, many dwarf children still disliked Win, even though dwarves and half-elves aged at similar rates and my actions had slightly changed how people in this country viewed elves.

All of Azvaldo's children were on Win's side, but he was still fighting alone.

But he had observed the dwarven country and, knowing what it was like, declared that he would attend the school, so neither I nor Azvaldo's family could oppose him.

He had decided for himself that this was where he would fight.

How had he become so courageous?

Had all those days spent struggling to catch up, even a little, with Shizuki and Mizuha led Win to take one or two steps toward adulthood?

He still looked utterly adorable, but perhaps the day he became a man in his own right was no longer so far off.

However, it wasn't as if everything was proceeding smoothly. Unfortunately, the furnace capable of withstanding the tremendous heat was still incomplete, even though it was the thing we needed most.

The reason was simple: several dwarves besides Azvaldo were also improving their furnaces and attempting to process mithril, so the precious heat-resistant materials had become fiercely contested.

Under normal circumstances, Azvaldo, being a master smith, would still have been given priority for the materials he wanted.

However, with the magic faction led by Rajudor locked in conflict with the opposing anti-magic faction, even a master smith found it extremely difficult to muscle in on the supply through personal influence alone.

Even if he overextended himself gathering materials to improve the furnace, it would all be meaningless if he couldn't secure mithril to process afterward.

For that reason, he'd been using his connections to gather materials little by little for the past year, or perhaps even longer, but he still couldn't obtain the final piece, leaving Azvaldo at his wits' end.

...Then I suppose there was no helping it.

If even Azvaldo couldn't obtain it through his connections, I'd have to go retrieve it myself.

The last material Azvaldo needed for the furnace was the skin of a Lava Frog, a monster that lived near the crater of an active volcano.

Its skin completely blocked external heat from getting through, protecting the supple muscles and organs inside.

And yet, its skin could still secrete oil, apparently allowing a Lava Frog to swim even through magma.

I had no idea how that worked, but there was no point in seriously considering monster biology.

In other words, if the inside of the furnace were lined with Lava Frog skin, it should be able to withstand the heat even after it rose high enough to process mithril, preventing the furnace from melting or collapsing.

So I talked the reluctant Azvaldo into agreeing and set out from the dwarven country for the volcanic region to the north.

He knew I disliked playing at being an adventurer and looked genuinely apologetic, but the goal my damn dwarf master had set himself was effectively my goal as his damn elf disciple, too.

So I had no intention of sparing the effort required to travel far away and hunt.

Besides, since I wouldn't just be killing it—I would be using its skin as furnace material—it shouldn't go against my principles either.

And of course, since a frog monster ought to be edible, I intended to eat as much of its meat as possible.

Apparently, the journey from the dwarven country to the volcanic region took a week or more.

It had been quite a while since I'd traveled completely alone.

I felt a little lonely, but the area near an active volcano's crater was far too dangerous for me to take Win along.

Without a companion, my meals became considerably more slapdash.

I chewed on dried meat from my rations as I walked, filling my stomach, and drank water straight from my canteen.

With only one person's worth of luggage to carry, my load was light, and since I didn't have to match a child's pace, I could walk faster.

Still, I found it somehow unsatisfying.

I kept walking while the sun was up, crossing cliffs and climbing mountains, sometimes even persuading the terrain itself to change and make the going easier... I covered the route in five days, though even a hardy dwarf should have needed a week.

Well, yeah.

I may have hurried a little too much, but considering the difference in stride between dwarves and elves, I suppose that sort of thing happens.