Prologue

Gondo Firebeard changed into his work clothes.

It was a one-piece suit of rugged design made with sturdy fabric. Stiff and coarse on the skin, it certainly wasn’t everyday apparel, but in the harsh environment of the tunnels, it was handy. Even if it was uncomfortable, looking back through dwarven history in the Azerlisia Mountains, there were apparently times when miners went to work practically naked. Having the suit made a huge difference.

Next, he put on a metal helmet, the kind light infantry might carry. Parts of the mines were very damp, so if he wore it directly, his sweat would steam him. That’s why all miners placed some bunched-up cloth inside as a buffer.

Finally, he donned a necklace with a metal plate. The number on the plate was 5. That meant he was on the last day of their five days on, five days off work schedule.

In other words, starting tomorrow, Gondo was free—for a time anyway.

Now that he was dressed, he left the changing room and entered the waiting area, going to his usual spot. He slipped past a few other dwarves while making his way to the front, where he looked for his name on the board. There were four other names on the same row as his. That meant they were in the same crew as he was and they would be working together today.

He was familiar with his coworkers, and the waiting area wasn’t very big, so it wasn’t hard to find them. It seemed Gondo was the last to arrive. Before he could even speed up to meet them, their greetings came flying at him.

“Oh, Gondo! Been a while!”

“Hoy, Gagez! Glad you’re crew leader. Please look out for me today. You too, fellas.”

“Hoy, Gondo! Let’s do our best in there today.”

“That’s right. This is day five—the last day! Let’s give it all we’ve got.”

“Ahhh, I don’t wanna work.”

While their chatter continued, the work crew left the waiting area; grabbed their mattocks, shovels, and other mining tools; then collected their lunches—food and drink—and received two liters of water in a magic item that would preserve its temperature.

The dwarves’ favorite drink, alcohol, was nowhere to be found. That was only natural. True, dwarves could hold their liquor, and a few sips wouldn’t get them drunk. But the tunnels could be dangerous, so no boss who valued his laborers would give them alcohol on the job.

That said…

One of the dwarves took a sip from a flask on his hip that wasn’t included among the items they had been issued.

“Phew!”

His breath distinctly smelled of alcohol.

He wasn’t the only one who had brought in a little extra, either. Gondo had a stash of his own.

None of it was alcoholic, but he had an additional canteen of water, one of soup, five sticks of hardened sugar, and snacks like dwarven hardtack.

It got muggy in the tunnels, and he needed more calories than the rations provided and more to drink, to boot. The workers were issued only the bare minimum, probably because the higher-ups wanted to cut costs.

Once the party was ready, they made one last stop—a meeting with the dwarf who was in charge of this national mine.

The eccentric- and wily-looking bespectacled dwarf sitting across the counter raised an eyebrow at them.

After sniffing a few times, the foreman shot a displeased look at the dwarf carrying a lingering odor of spirits. But he didn’t say anything. Was it because despite being a manager, he was also a dwarf and understood how the miner felt? Or maybe it was because Gagez spoke first.

“Gagez here. Where we digging today?”

The wily-looking dwarf shifted his gaze from the party to his map. It was hidden behind the counter, but they knew he was looking at the assignment chart for all the dig sites.

“You’re in plot 8,821.”

“8,821 means heat ore, right?”

Heat ore was a very important resource for the dwarves.

Dwarves were a people of the earth and mainly lived underground, so it was difficult for them to use coal or wood—anything that pollutes the air—to create warmth, cook food, or forge metals.

Magic items that could purify the air certainly existed, but manufacturing those required a druid’s powers. Unfortunately, dwarf druids were extremely rare, so they couldn’t simply mass-produce air purifiers.

Instead, they used a metal called heat ore.

It was a special mineral that was at least as hard as mythril. When struck with metal, heat ore produced a large amount of heat, making it a natural substitute for fuel like coal. Since large amounts of the ore were also used in ironworks and smithies, it was an indispensable part of dwarven life. Incidentally, firewood was treated as a rare commodity.

“That’s right. Take this.”

What the foreman tossed onto the counter was a plate that authorized their entrance to the tunnel. Gagez’s fingers seemed far too stout to grab the necklace as nimbly as he did.

Then he read the paper he was handed top to bottom before passing it along to the next dwarf.

Eventually, the paper reached Gondo. As usual, it detailed the route to their dig site. Gondo memorized the various paths so he knew where to run in an emergency. The tunnel they would be in belonged to the dwarves, but that didn’t mean there was no chance of monsters appearing. It was important to exercise precautions on top of even more precautions.

“Use a cart at the third junction.”

“Got it. All right, let’s go!”

The work crew oiled up one of the handcarts at the third junction, and once their preparations were complete, they pushed the cart along as they advanced.

At fixed intervals along the tunnel were lanterns made of ore that naturally emitted light. The space between each was long, though, so at times the path was steeped in shadow. Fortunately, dwarves had eyes that could see in the dark. It wasn’t as if they could make out everything, but for the distance between the lanterns, their night vision was enough to get them where they were going.

Creatures on the surface might have been overwhelmed by the creeping pressure of the cramped tunnel, but dwarves were a race that lived underground, so their surroundings didn’t bother them. Though there wasn’t much room, the tunnel seemed plenty big to the dwarves.

Dwarves were four foot three on average, so if they dug a tunnel around five feet eleven inches high, they would find it spacious.

A short time after the work crew set out, they heard some footsteps ahead of them.

If the noise had come from miners like Gondo and his crew, they should’ve heard the noise of a cart as well. But no one had heard anything like that. So who was it? The other party didn’t sound too wary of Gondo’s group. If the work crew had heard the padding of bare feet, they would have dropped everything to run away, but it wasn’t that, either. Whoever those footsteps belonged to, they had proper shoes on.

Gondo’s crew had an idea who it might be.

After a short while, a different group of dwarves came into view.

Gondo and the others moved off to the side so they wouldn’t block the way. Of course, they had left the handcart right in the path, so their gesture didn’t amount to much.

“You fellows are going up ahead? For the moment, there’s nothing out there, but be careful.”

“We will. Thanks for looking out for us. We appreciate it.”

After that brief exchange, the other group passed by.

The one leading them was a caster who practiced an alternative tradition of magic—he was called a tunnel doctor.

His job was to make sure that rocks didn’t break off and fall from the ceiling as well as to keep sharp edges left after digging from injuring miners—in essence, he used the power of magic to secure and strengthen the tunnels.

There was always a risk that a tunnel would collapse, so it was important to create supports. Usually wood was used, but that was something that was hard to come by in the dwarf country. Tunnel doctors could reinforce tunnels using magic.

Additionally, some of these casters could tell when veins of water or pockets of gas were near, allowing miners to swing their pickaxes without worrying about the bedrock collapsing or anything like that.

Trailing the all-important tunnel doctor were dwarf warriors clad in light armor.

There weren’t many tunnel doctors, so this one had been assigned four escorts.

After the group passed by, their footsteps receded.

The dwarf city Fehu Jura was, like any dwarf city, established by digging into the side of a mountain so they could mine multiple veins of various ore—although circumstances prevented mining on the west side.

Dwarves were openhearted and didn’t tend to quibble by nature, and they were also exceptional mathematicians. The countless tunnels running like blood vessels to the heart of the city were constructed according to a thoroughly calculated plan of geometric artistry. The comparatively large level tunnel was laid with tracks for the passage of mine carts, and vertical shafts equipped with manual elevators were located at key points. From there, innumerable other byways branched off. If all the tunnels were connected end to end, they would span well over sixty miles.

But because this web of passageways was so vast, it was impossible to station security throughout the entire network. There weren’t even enough people to assign escorts for each mining crew, so all they could do if a monster attacked while they were working was drop everything and run for the nearest guard post.

But unfortunately, it was well-known around the world that dwarves were slow. Escaping without losing anyone required an uncommon amount of luck.

Gondo and his crew stopped their cart, activated their handheld lantern-type magic items, took up their digging tools, and went down a side tunnel. The dead end they hit soon after was their destination—the site they would be mining today.

At Gagez’s prompt instructions, the crew silently got to work. One dug with a pickax, one drove a wedge into the stone, one shoveled dirt and rocks into a box, one carried it to the cart, and another pushed the cart to the entrance…

“Okay, let’s get started.”

Their workday had begun.

•

Since the work was mind-numbingly repetitive, the dwarves had developed the necessary muscles. Even so, they were exhausted at the end of the day and their bodies craved rest.

Upon their return home, the crew stripped off their work clothes and headed to the bathhouse especially designated for miners.

The bath was heated by the national mine’s giant blast furnace. The water was only lukewarm, but it was the perfect temperature to draw the excess heat out of their weary bodies.

Gondo used a pail to scoop up some of the brownish water flowing by and dumped it over his head.

The distinct color was due to iron or some other mineral content in the water, which incidentally also added some flavor. That’s what Gondo used to rinse off his dirt-encrusted body.

He put a good amount of effort into washing his hair and beard. For a dwarf, having a dirty beard was proof that he was still a child.

“Hoy, Gondo! After we’re done, how about a drink?” Gagez shouted over the sound of him scrubbing from the next seat over.

Gondo raised another pail of water over his head to rinse away the grime he’d scrubbed off and shouted back as he got into the tub. “Sorry, I’ve got something to tend to after this! Invite me again sometime, though!”

“Oh! That’s too bad! If you change your mind, I’ll be drinking at the White Spirits.”

“All right! Thanks!”

Gagez seemed like he had started up a new chat with some other friends, so Gondo said, “I’ll leave you fellas to it,” as he got out of the bath and hurried away.

Feeling refreshed after drying off and changing into his ordinary clothes, Gondo went straight to the counter and stood before the wily-looking foreman, then turned in the plate he had been wearing around his neck.

The foreman glanced at the plate and set a leather pouch on the counter.

It was five days’ worth of pay. Since miners had a not-so-low chance of dying, they were generally paid weekly. There was apparently a time when they were paid daily, but some thought that changed because people complained they weren’t able to drink their fill at the pub on only a day’s wages. There was some merit to that theory because even though the pouch contained a fair sum of money, Gagez and the others would probably spend half of it drinking.

“…Gondo, it’s been a month now, right? Let’s see your face.”

“I’m fine. No problems breathing.”

“I’m the one who decides that, not you.” He took a handheld light out from under the counter and pointed it at Gondo.

Gondo flinched at how bright it was but obediently showed the dwarf his face.

Inhaling mine dust over a long period of time resulted in decreased lung function. Once that happened, it caused the skin to take on an unhealthy bluish-white pallor. The disease was called Alabaster sickness, and the manager was searching for signs of it.

“Hmph, yes, it seems like you’re fine.”

“When you come down with it, the thing makes you wheeze, don’t it? As long as you’re breathing normally, there’s no problem, right?”

“This is how I’ve always diagnosed it.” The dwarf sighed. “Checking the face is more certain than listening to the breath. You discounting my experience?”

“No, of course not. Experience’s important.”

“Then, quit complaining. It ain’t helping no one. And, Gondo, don’t you think it’s about time you joined full-time? I want to make you a crew leader. You definitely have the experience.”

“Sorry, I can’t do that… I’m taking some time off. I’m going on a long journey, and as of today, I’ve saved up all the money I need.”

Gondo had been saving so much money that people had begun to assume he was antisocial, but it was all to buy equipment for his journey.

“…You’re going off somewhere again?”

“I’m going to the city we abandoned several years ago, Fehu Raido—to see what I can dig up there.”

The wily-looking dwarf’s eyes widened. “What?! It goes without saying that’s some risky business. You bringing anyone along?”

“As for the former, I know. And the latter is a no.”

Traveling with more people came with a greater danger of being noticed. Rather than losing someone or even getting wiped out, Gondo chose to operate solo and be stealthy.

“…Did you leave something behind over there?”

“No. Like I said, I want to mine there.”

“That’s what I don’t understand. If you want to mine, you can do it right here.”

“Hmph. No matter how hard I work here…the most I can get is a slight bonus depending on how much I bring back, but it’s basically a fixed amount. There’s no way to make any serious money.”

“It pays better than a regular job.”

The foreman was right. That was exactly why Gondo had chosen this line of work for his short-term moneymaking.

“I need more money for what I’m looking to do. That’s why I’m heading for the tunnels of that abandoned city. I can mine whatever ore I want and no one can say a thing.”

The foreman frowned.

Gondo’s plan was extreme, but what he said was true.

“Yeah. That stuff. No one can complain if I keep whatever I dig up over there.”

The nearby mines were mainly run by the state. For that reason, anyone who wanted white iron had to pay a princely sum—market price—for it. But digging in an abandoned tunnel meant that any finds belonged solely to the miner. Of course, that also meant that if anything happened, they wouldn’t have the country’s support.

“…I’d be willing to pay handsomely for some.”

White iron hadn’t been discovered in the mines near this city yet. Once the supply they had dug up in older cities was gone, the price was sure to skyrocket.

Gondo knew the wily-looking dwarf wasn’t saying that in order to turn a profit. He was simply being kind.

The foreman was offering to negotiate with buyers to get a better price. But Gondo wasn’t interested in selling off his haul for money.

“What are you talking about? I already know how I’ll use it. It’s for my research.”

The wily-looking dwarf’s face darkened. “Are you still on about that…? I get how you feel, but isn’t it about time to face reality and get a job as a crew leader? You’ll upset your pa.”

For a moment, a searing rage flared inside Gondo, but before it could show, he looked away and covered his face. Gondo’s father had helped out this foreman a number of times. That’s why he was so worried to see the man’s child devoting himself to impossible research.

He may have been speaking out of kindness, but Gondo couldn’t accept that.

“Oh, I’ve got a grip on reality all right. The path my father chose wasn’t wrong! I’m going to rediscover lost technology!”

Unable to hold himself back, he vented the embers of his anger along with some fiery words, then turned on his heel and hurried away.

A part of him regretted taking his immature anger out on someone who was sincerely worried about him, but his zeal toward his mission weighed far greater than any remorse he felt.

That’s right.

As the inadequate son of a magnificent man, this was his reason for living.

Gondo bit his lip and stared straight ahead.