WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Order

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Chapter 18: Magic Tower-made Armor (2)

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The consultation room was little more than a small storeroom attached to the Magic Tower workshop.

The lone table inside was buried under odds and ends. It didn't look like many people came here for consultations.

As Elbridge sat in a chair and waited, Rombel brought over a teapot as big as his face and two water cups larger than his fist.

Rombel swept the table clear in one broad motion of his thick forearms, then handed Elbridge one of the cups.

"Take it."

Rombel tipped the teapot, filling Elbridge's cup and his own until both were full, then sat down across the table. When Elbridge smelled it, a musty, grassy smell rose up.

"Elbridge. I heard you'd definitely been sealed away."

"That's right."

Elbridge took a sip of tea.

The leaves must have been ancient; it tasted like licking old paper.

'Right, what would a dwarf know about tea...'

Still, Elbridge forced himself to keep drinking.

Because there was a chance he might get a discount on armor.

"...But now I'm free."

"How did that happen?"

"Not sure. I don't really know either."

"Did someone smash the seal apart?"

Elbridge shook his head.

"No. Nothing like that happened. There were no signs that the seal had been damaged."

"Was it a seal that had been made wrong from the start? I heard they threw that seal together in a hurry."

"Maybe."

The expedition to seal the Archdemon had included mages. If things had gone smoothly, the mages would have formed the seal.

But the mage assigned to the seal died in battle, and everything went wrong.

Even the backup mages they had brought along had all died.

When it came down to it, half the reason Elbridge had been sealed away was because of the mages.

If even one mage had survived, the paladins wouldn't have needed to cobble the seal together so crudely, and there would have been no reason for Elbridge to serve as the Seal Core.

"Still, what could they have done? Back then, that was the best they could manage."

"Probably. But Elbridge. There's something else I'm most curious about."

"What is it?"

"...If you were freed, was the Archdemon freed too?"

Elbridge answered awkwardly.

"Probably?"

Rombel let out a long sigh.

"...That's the most shocking news I've heard lately."

"Soon enough, everyone will know."

Now it was Elbridge's turn to ask.

"By the way, Rombel. Why are you here?"

Two hundred years ago, Rombel had been a warrior of the Order of the Iron Anvil, the dwarven order.

As befit a dwarf, he had been handy, so he often repaired the party's equipment when it broke, but he wasn't a proper blacksmith.

"There is no reason to remain a warrior in a world without demons."

"So once the demons come back, are you going to quit smithing and go back to being a warrior?"

"...I don't know."

"Why not?"

"I'm almost three hundred years old."

Elbridge looked at Rombel.

A middle-aged dwarf sat across from him now, instead of the young, cocky dwarf he remembered.

"...Actually, it wasn't because of my age."

"Then what was it?"

"It was my skill. Even back then, I wasn't some great warrior."

Contrary to Rombel's own claim, his skill didn't fall far behind that of any paladin. In terms of raw ability, at least.

Rombel's biggest problem was the god he served.

As the name suggested, the God of the Iron Anvil wasn't the kind of god that granted combat powers.

And yet Rombel couldn't turn his back on the God of the Iron Anvil. Dwarves, as if it were only natural, belonged to the Order of the Iron Anvil and served the God of the Iron Anvil.

A dwarf who didn't serve the God of the Iron Anvil was thoroughly shunned in dwarf society, so in effect, dwarves had no freedom of religion.

Because of that insular culture, the God of the Iron Anvil kept a seat with the support of more than 99.8 percent of all dwarves.

'The Order of the Iron Anvil, huh...'

Then the goddess's voice sounded in Elbridge's ear.

- Elbridge. Now.

There was no detailed explanation. Still, Elbridge understood at once what the goddess's oracle meant.

Elbridge put on a solemn expression and said, "Rombel. You know your problem isn't your skill. The problem is your order."

"..."

"I know your faith wasn't that deep. I remember you secretly admiring the paladins of combat orders. And after serving the God of the Iron Anvil for nearly three hundred years, you've done enough."

"Ugh."

Now was the time to reveal his real point. Elbridge casually brought it up.

"And lately, there's also that thing about church-transfer benefits, right? A dwarf who kept his faith for three hundred years would get enormous benefits."

- Archbishop Elbridge. The more specific the conditions, the better.

"...For example, our Order of the Rusted Shield would guarantee you the rank of cardinal. And if you brought in other believers, we'd give you extra benefits based on how they performed. It's what they call network marketing, and the earlier you join..."

Elbridge explained while forcing down the tasteless tea, thinking that finishing it would leave a better impression than leaving the cup untouched.

But all of Elbridge's effort went to waste, because Rombel let out a long sigh.

"No."

"Why? It's not like the God of the Iron Anvil could retaliate against you just because you left the order. That kind of thing is strictly forbidden by the Heavenly Council."

"The problem isn't that the god would retaliate. It's that my own kin would shun me. That's allowed. The god isn't retaliating directly."

"What's so bad about being shunned? You don't even interact much with your kin anyway... no, wait. Has that changed over two hundred years?"

Rombel scratched the back of his head hard, then awkwardly changed the subject.

"Anyway! The reason I can't freely lower the price of the armor isn't because I'm some heartless dwarf. It's because the Magic Tower sets the price, not me."

Too much proselytizing was bound to backfire. Elbridge gave up on it cleanly.

"Right, I've never heard that dwarves were stingy. And not getting a discount isn't a big problem anyway."

"Really?"

"The price of Magic Tower-made Armor seems a lot cheaper than it used to be. I heard you could buy a cuirass and gauntlets for 120 gold coins? I also heard you don't need to wait years anymore."

"The times have changed. Hardly anyone looks for Magic Tower-made Armor now. At this point, it's just a collector's piece for rich nobles."

"Even so, the work involved in making Magic Tower-made Armor was just as heavy as ever. I didn't expect it to get this cheap."

"It isn't the same."

Rombel propped his chin on his hand, then filled Elbridge's cup back up with tea.

That made Elbridge a little uncomfortable.

"Elbridge. You've seen how much knights and paladins have declined over the last two hundred years, right?"

"...Of course."

"As long as demons are gone, the decline of knights and paladins is inevitable. But the rest of the world is different. In fact, it's been developing at a terrifying pace as the years pass."

"Doesn't seem like it. Solenion is almost no different from two hundred years ago."

"That's because this is the eastern backwater. In the middle of the continent, things are happening that would make you fall over in shock. Would you believe me if I said carriages could run without horses, and people flew through the sky in giant balloons?"

It was an absurd story. Not something even children would believe.

"Rombel. I'm not an idiot just because I was sealed for two hundred years."

"I'm not joking. The mages in the middle of the continent have done incredible things. Now they call themselves magitech engineers, not mages."

Elbridge studied Rombel's face to judge whether he was serious or joking.

But it was hard to read a dwarf's expression through all that thick beard.

"...Fine, let's say that exists. Anyway, why does that matter?"

"What I'm trying to say is simple. Unlike the declining knights and paladins, the mages kept advancing. Thanks to that, the cost of Magic Tower-made Armor dropped a lot too."

Thinking about it that way, it did seem to make sense.

Elbridge's thoughts then turned in a different direction.

"Rombel. In that case, could mages seal the Archdemon?"

"Maybe. That doesn't seem easy... The mages' progress felt like it was heading in a direction somewhat removed from combat."

Once again Elbridge forced down the tasteless tea, and Rombel checked inside the teapot.

"The tea's run out. Want some of mine?"

"No."

"Really?"

Rombel stood up and poured the tea in his cup into the quenching bucket.

Hot anger burned in Elbridge's chest.

'...This bastard?'

Still, Elbridge's effort hadn't been wasted.

"Anyway, it was good to see you after so long. I can't lower the price, but I will use the best materials I can and spare no effort."

"Thanks, Rombel."

"Tell the mage handling the enchantments to take care with it too. If it's something you'll be using, they'll take real care with it."

Elbridge waved it off.

"...Don't say that. I'm operating under my descendant's identity right now, not my own."

"Why in the world?"

Elbridge thought for a moment.

Could Rombel, a dwarf, understand the jealousy-fueled hatred, the human habit of endlessly hunting for a scapegoat?

No. He probably couldn't.

"I have my reasons."

"I understand. Should I make the gauntlets and cuirass first?"

"Yes. Should we start by taking measurements?"

"I already checked by eye, so measurements aren't necessary. What functions do you want me to include?"

"For the cuirass, internal distortion defense. For the gauntlets, grip strength enhancement. Possible?"

"Let's see... 110 gold. The grip strength enhancement is a little cheaper. I'll have it finished within fifteen days at the latest."

"Thanks, Rombel. See you next time."

Elbridge got up from his seat.

Then Rombel asked him in a careful voice.

"By the way, Elbridge. I have one thing to ask."

"What is it?"

"...Didn't you used to treat me with proper respect all the time? You said you couldn't be rude to your elders."

Rombel had been a young dwarf then, but even back in those days, two hundred years ago, he was already over ninety years old.

By contrast, Elbridge had first met Rombel before he was even twenty.

"Rombel. You're almost three hundred years old now, so by human standards that would put you around sixty, right?"

"A dwarf's lifespan is roughly four hundred years. A human's is around eighty, so yes."

"My age is over two hundred by human standards, Rombel."

When he heard that, Rombel made a strange expression Elbridge had never seen before.

Footnotes:

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