Chapter 113 - The Dwarven Kingdom

 And so, here I am.

The Dwarven Smith-Nation.

I honestly didn’t think there were dwarves in this world. Actually, I didn’t even know fantasy-style demi-human races existed here at all.

Demons. Elves. Beastmen. Saiy—er, no, let’s not go there.

I hadn't sensed even a hint of the usual fantasy staples until now, so I’d assumed primates in this world were limited to humans. But dwarves exist. At least these guys do. Come to think of it, dwarves are everywhere—even in space, making gauntlets that erase half the universe with a snap—so I guess they're bound to show up in any isekai.

When I think of dwarves, the image is usually:

• Short.

• But stocky.

• Good at smithing and carpentry.

• Love their booze.

• Bushy beards.

• Primary weapon: Hammer.

I wonder if that applies to the dwarves here? Either way, they seem like a rough, manly race, so I probably won't have much to do with them. I'll aim for a "just friends" vibe.

More importantly, if dwarves exist, it means there’s a chance I might run into a blonde elf beauty, a cat-eared beast-girl, or an evil demoness general. My heart raced at the future possibilities, but for now, I had to deal with the dwarf problem in front of me.

The dwarves of this world have built a massive, unified nation. Their smithing skills are allegedly peerless and sought after worldwide. That sounds like a booming economy, but the reality is incredibly grim.

Why? Because the dwarves have no trading partners other than the Kingdom of Niosebuk.

The exquisite weapons, jewelry, and massive structures the dwarves produce—including seafaring ships, long-distance wagons, and even siege engines—all go exclusively to Niosebuk. Nothing reaches other nations or races.

Niosebuk is a "Tiger-Wolf nation" that loves war. Handing them top-tier dwarven weaponry is like giving a chainsaw to a psychopath. My mission is to get the dwarves to stop.

I need to find out why this sinister monopoly exists, cut the cord, and sever the relationship between the dwarves and the beast-nation. Once the supply line is cut, Niosebuk weakens, and we (Reniosegra and the Merchant Coalition) profit by buying up the dwarven masterpieces ourselves.

Actually, since Niosebuk is in a civil war, maybe I could just cut off the favored Third Prince and only leak weapons to the resistance? That’s an idea. A very good idea.

The Third Prince has a total stranglehold on dwarven trade? Then I definitely have to do something. If dwarven steel is what’s keeping the favorite in the lead, taking it away would be a critical hit. The consensus back home is clear: whatever happens, don't let the Third Prince win.

Situation confirmed. Goal re-verified. Let's begin.

Welcome to the Dwarven Inferno.

◆

"So, you are the messenger from the Selengren Merchant Coalition? A new face, I see." 

"My name is Sao."

I am currently in an audience with the Dwarven King. The pace is fast? I make it a point to skip the boring parts.

My official status is an envoy dispatched by the Coalition, a cover arranged by my newest "partner," the Widow Corzette. I’m acting alone. I figured being solo would be easier for infiltration, especially in a country allied with our enemy, Niosebuk. I left Romphaia back at the Coalition hub.

I can’t exactly announce I’m from Reniosegra, the very country Niosebuk is targeting. That would put them on guard immediately. So, I’m deep undercover. I feel like 007.

"I have come to ask you to reconsider trading with the Selengren Merchant Coalition." 

"I have refused that request many times. We do not trade with anyone other than the Kingdom of Niosebuk," the King replied.

The Dwarven King sat upon his throne, radiating an air of authority, but to my eyes, he looked deeply unwell.

First, his appearance: he had a magnificent dwarf beard, so thick it completely hid his chest, but it was stark white. His face was a map of wrinkles, so he was clearly an old man, but the whiteness of his hair was sickly. It wasn't a brilliant, snowy white; it was yellowed and frayed, like a dying stray cat.

His body was skeletal and thin, a far cry from the short, stocky image of a dwarf. And yet, the light in his sunken sockets was brilliant. It shone like a lamp, possessing a life force that contrasted so sharply with his withered body that it was actually creepy.

This is the King of the Dwarves? He looks more like a vampire.

A normal person would have lost their words just being stared at by those eyes, and the meeting would have ended right there. But I have the thick skin and iron nerves that come from sleeping with countless women! I can push my agenda even against this heavy atmosphere!

"But, King of Dwarves, a monopoly is unhealthy for market principles. For your products to receive their true valuation, you need to release them into a wider market." I gave him the standard merchant pitch. "Besides, isn't the future of Niosebuk looking a bit cloudy? If that country falls, the damage to you, who rely on them as your only source of income, will be catastrophic." 

"..." 

"Why not use this opportunity to open new trade routes? I can say with confidence that we are the perfect new partners for you."

I did my best "professional merchant" presentation, but the old King’s reaction was cold. Actually, there was no reaction at all. Why isn't he saying anything? What is that expression?

"I understand what you wish to say. But even so, we cannot change our relationship with Niosebuk." 

"And the reason?" 

"That is an agreement between our two nations. It is not for outsiders to meddle in."

A total rejection.

There has to be a reason why the dwarves are so excessively devoted to Niosebuk. And a very desperate one at that. Looking at how sickly the old King is, I feel it in my gut.

"I can't just back down so easily. My headquarters told me not to return until I had a 'yes.'" I pushed back. You don't get anywhere in negotiations by just listening. "Could you at least give it some deep thought? I’m not asking for an unconditional 'yes.' Perhaps a conditional agreement... if certain conditions are met, you would sign with us?" 

"Ho... a conditional promise. Specifically?" 

"Like, if the Kingdom of Niosebuk falls."

The air around the old King turned sharp and cold. It was the first real reaction I’d drawn from him.

"You think that country will fall? Don't be absurd...!" 

"Of course, it’s a 'just in case.' But if I can take a promise like that back to my superiors, they'll be satisfied for now."

I paused. "But really... it’s not exactly an impossible story. Their King died suddenly, didn't he? And now there's a massive civil war over the successor. I wouldn't be surprised if they just self-destructed..."

The fact that we are the ones proactively making that happen is a secret.

"But there's no need to fear. The chance of that country falling isn't one in a million; it's one in a billion. After all, you dwarves are backing them with everything you've got." 

"Ngh...!" 

"With the finest dwarven weapons and engines, Niosebuk is invincible. Even if they exhaust their national strength in a civil war, they can rebuild easily with your gear. They can just invade another country, suppress it, and steal all the wealth and food they need. Thanks to the dwarves, Niosebuk is secure forever. They’re lucky to have a partner like you."

I was trying to shake him. How would the old King respond? I already knew the trade wasn't fair. I had intel that Niosebuk was buying these painstakingly crafted weapons for practically nothing. I couldn't believe there wasn't any resentment or anger involved.

What are they thinking, accepting such a raw deal? I hoped this pressure would give me a glimpse behind the mask.

"...Messenger, stay in this country for a while." 

"Huh?" 

"I shall consider your proposal. It will take time. While we deliberate, feel free to tour our Smith-Nation at your leisure." 

"Th-thank you!" 

"Don't misunderstand. I am only considering it. I may conclude that it is impossible. It is too early for thanks." 

"Just having it considered is more than enough!"

At least I avoided being kicked out immediately. I was allowed to stay in the Dwarven Kingdom. What waits at the end of this...?

"I simply felt your argument had a point. Times change. If so, we dwarves must also prepare for various scenarios." 

"Scenario... like Niosebuk falling?" 

"A scenario for change itself."

The old King was being vague. What was he afraid of? Or what was he hoping for?

"However, this is a foreign land to you. It would be unsettling to be thrown out without any guidance. I shall provide a guide." 

"A guide?" 

"Someone! Call Septekifa."

A guide? More likely a watchdog. He probably doesn't like the idea of an outsider wandering around his territory freely. Giving me a guide is a polite way to monitor and restrict my movements without causing a scene. I decided to play along.

"I appreciate your thoughtfulness, King." 

"One should accept kindness when it is offered. Leave everything to the guide, including your lodging. I will not treat you poorly."

After waiting for about ten minutes, a young dwarf arrived.

"Finally, Septekifa. Don't keep the guest waiting." 

"Shut up, old man."

The first words were rough. This dwarf was clearly young, with vibrant, supple skin and a body brimming with life, a sharp contrast to the King. Being a dwarf, the newcomer was short with thick, powerful limbs. The face was youthful, with a boyish innocence that felt unbalanced compared to the fully developed, muscular body.

"I am assigning Septekifa to be your guide. Whatever you desire, ask of them." 

"I didn't agree to this, old man! Who is this guy? Why are we letting someone like this stay in the city?" The young dwarf was rude to the King and seemed to hate me on sight.

"You've heard of the guest from the Merchant Coalition. I will be discussing his proposal with the ministers. In the meantime, you will show him hospitality. Do not be rude." 

"Tch..." came the clicked tongue in response.

"Messenger, this girls's name is Septekifa. Her attitude is like this, but as a dwarf, she has the heart to see a job through." 

"I see..."

So, a watchdog. I’d have to be careful not to be caught spying. But wait...

What was that one phrase he used?

Girl?

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