Unrest in the Land of the Dwarves – Part 05

“Damn it!”

Metal cups clanged as liquor sloshed dangerously close to spilling.

The three members of the Golden Boar Clan were gathered under a large tent, which served as a tavern for the clan and its affiliates. Despite being in a camp, alcohol flowed freely.

Night had already fallen outside.

Only men drank here, pairing distilled spirits with grilled minced meat. Barrels were emptied one after another. With more than thirty Dwarves drinking, the inside of the tent was thick with the smell of alcohol. For someone with a low tolerance, the mere scent alone would be enough to make them feel drunk. The Dwarves, however, seemed to relish the atmosphere.

“Ahh, this stuff really hits the spot.”
“Drink too much, and your wounds will sting.”
“Ugh.”

The three still nursed injuries from dropping a dresser on their toes. Healing magic could have fixed it, but the clan leader, an old Dwarf, had refused.

“Reflect on your actions,” he had said. Worse, the dresser was now wobbly from the fall.

So, they’d come to drink their troubles away.

“I hear you guys screwed up again.”

“Shut up.”

Other Dwarves teased them. With nothing better to do, these red-faced Dwarves would talk for days about the smallest bit of gossip. The story of Dodonno and Dodorono of the Red Rat Clan outsmarting the trio and causing their injuries became instant entertainment. As to who spread the news, it was the checkpoint guards, who were just as bored as the rest of them.

“And it was Dodonno and Dodorono who got you. Those guys don’t even do any blacksmithing.”

“I said shut up.”

“Haha! So now you’re acting tough, huh?”

Their irritation grew with the laughter, but they couldn’t say anything back.

“Tch, the air here stinks. Let’s drink outside.”

The three rose from their seats, one stumbling slightly from either his numb foot or the injury to his toe. As they grabbed their cups and snacks to leave, the Dwarves called after them.

“Hey! Tell us what those two were like!”

“Shut up!”

Outside, the noise from the tent seemed a world away. A few Dwarves gathered around a campfire, drinking, but most had turned in for the night. The sky was full of stars. Away from the light spilling from the tent, the trio sat on the grass. The night air was cold, but the alcohol was enough to keep them warm.

“Ahh, nothing beats a drink on nights like this.”

They downed another gulp. When they poured more from the small barrel they’d brought, the liquor dripped onto their hands. They licked it off, savoring every drop.

“So, what now? The chief’s still furious.”

“What can we do? Once our feet heal, it’s back to moving furniture.”

“So lame.”

“You’re the one who picked a fight with Gittan. This is on you.”

“Me? You joined in too!”

“Ugh, ugh.”

“What? You want us to get along? How long are your feet gonna stay numb anyway?”

A tap on the forehead sent the Dwarf stumbling backward, groaning.

“How much longer are we going to live like this? Only the Golden Boar Clan has their chief camping out here.”

“The chief’s confident. Are you doubting him?”

“Not really, no. But today, when we went back to the mansion, it felt tense, but that was all. And now people are mocking the clan for hiding out in this camp. Worst of all, we can’t forge anything here.”

“Well, that’s true.”

They took another swig of their drink, then let out a heavy sigh laced with the smell of booze.

“We’re trueborn Dwarves. It’s hard being away from the forge too long.”

“Yeah. The furnace here at the camp just doesn’t compare. Nothing beats the flames from the Progenitor’s Forge back at the clan’s smithy.”

“Isn’t Lord Brigid the one who oversees that forge? The one that can melt any metal?”

“Only the clan leader gets to meet Lord Brigid. Even then, they only really hear his voice.”

“And then, out of nowhere, we were all gathered, and then this chaos. You know what I think?”

“Don’t say it. Just don’t.”

“Why not? Let me finish.”

“Knowing you, you’re about to question Lord Brigid, too. That’s outright disrespectful.”

“I’m not doubting him. But even Lord Brigid could make mistakes, right?”

“Oh, no! How could you say that? You’re asking for a curse, a big one!”

“Curse, my foot. If that were true, we’d have been cursed long ago.”

Suddenly, something heavy thudded in front of them.

In the dim light, golden eyes glared at them. They belonged to the head of a reptilian monster. Emerging from the sack, its face was darkened with dried blood.

“Wh-Who would do something so nasty?”

The trio turned around, and froze.

Eight female Dwarves stood before them, led by a girl who looked no older than a teenager.

She wore a polished protector that gleamed with a dull metallic shine. Her battle axe seemed far too large for her small frame, but she wielded it with ease. She had long, Dwarven hair styled into thick bunches, and a small upturned nose. Her defiant gaze locked onto the trio.

“Hey, now. What’s with those sour faces? You didn’t do anything to sully the Golden Boar name while I was gone, did you?!”

Her battle axe hit the ground with a heavy thud. Hidden beneath her clothes were muscles that far exceeded what her small frame suggested.

“Lady Waffa! And the rest of Fringe Bell Fierce Blossoms. W-Welcome back!”

The trio scrambled to their feet and bowed deeply. Meanwhile, other Dwarves that heard the commotion emerged from the tents, spotting the newcomers.

“Lady Waffa!”
“You’ve returned.”
“Thank goodness you’re safe!”

A chorus of cheers erupted.

Waffa snorted, a proud smirk tugging at her lips. Her face had a girlish charm befitting her age.

“Someone, go tell Grandpa I’m back. You and you, take care of our gear.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am!”

“Got it!”

Though the Dwarves were drunk, they moved quickly. Waffa’s grandfather was the leader of the Golden Boar Clan. Her word was law, and no one dared defy her.

“Heh, time to drink!”

“Don’t overdo it. Who knows what tomorrow holds.”

“Anyone know what’s happening in the country?”

“You should ask the chief. He’ll have the most reliable info.”

The female Dwarves with Waffa also carried massive weapons. As they handed them off, the men staggered under the weight.

“Don’t drop those,” Waffa warned. “Or I’ll cut off your heads.” The men paled.

“All right, let’s have a drink while we wait for Gramps!”

Once the men left the tent, Waffa and the others took the seats at the back.

“Hey, you three idiots. Bring the booze.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am.”

Despite being insulted, they couldn’t muster anger or defiance. After all, Waffa outranked them within the Golden Boar Clan.

“One of you stay behind.”

The three froze, unnerved by the threatening command.

“Relax, I just have a question. Hurry up!”

“Understood!”

Two of the group shoved the third—the one who answered—and left to fetch the drinks. The remaining Dwarf looked betrayed.

“Come here. I want to ask about the saber-toothed tiger.”

“Huh? Ah, you mean that monster on the highway?”

“Yeah. We’ve been really busy with commissions abroad and have been doing quite a bit of work, but when we heard about the saber-toothed tiger causing trouble, we rushed back.”

“I-I see. I thought you returned because of the clan disputes.”

“You know the Golden Boar Clan has Grandpa, right?”

“Y-Yes, I’m aware.”

“My Grandpa.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think he’s incompetent?”

“Of course not! We respect the clan chief.”

“Really now. You have no clue, do you? We came back for the saber-toothed tiger, not because we’re worried about the clan. Get that straight, or other clans will look down on us.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, whatever. You were never the sharpest axe in the forge.”

The Dwarf looked just a little despondent. Words, even truthful, can hurt.

“So? Where’s the tiger now? We’re getting rid of it tomorrow.”

“It’s already gone.”

“What? Did it go deep into the Garda Noruda Forest? That’s a pain.”

Just then, the alcohol arrived. Cups were filled to the brim, and the group started drinking. Waffa took a sip, then immediately choked.

“Cough, cough. Mmm, this is good.”

“Waffa, you don’t have to force it. You’re still young,” one of her companions said.

“Shut up,” Waffa shot back. “Ah, this is what it’s all about. For Dwarves, nothing beats alcohol.”

She scrunched her nose and took another sip. Well, she only wetted her lips and made it look like she was drinking, even adding a gulping sound for effect. Naturally, the drink in her cup hadn’t gone down at all.

“All right, you three idiots. Starting tomorrow, you’re searching for the saber-toothed tiger.”

“Huh? Like I said, it’s already gone.”

“And I’m saying it’s your job to find it.”

“It’s gone because it’s been dealt with.”

“What?”

Waffa froze, and her seven companions fixed the Dwarf with a sharp stare. They had come back to hunt the monster, only to be told it was already gone.

“I-I mean, that’s what I heard,” the man stammered, even though he did nothing wrong. “I don’t actually know if it’s true. Apparently, some human adventurers killed it.”

“Our country doesn’t even have an Adventurers Guild, let alone adventurers. And you’re telling me it’s dead? Did you see proof of the kill?”

“N-No. The commission was issued by Gittan Trading.”

“Gittan Trading? The Bright Rooster Clan?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Gittan Trading paid human adventurers to kill it?!”

“Y-Yes, that seems to be the case.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

Waffa slammed her fist down, not just breaking the table but punching a hole through it. The man stared, wide-eyed, at her impossible strength and speed.

“You’re kidding me, right? Mere humans killed a saber-toothed tiger?”

“Y-Yes. Apparently, they were quite skilled. Again, I’m not sure if it’s true.”

“There’s no way those weaklings could do that! Were they some giant who could shake the heavens?!”

“N-No.”

“I bet they were all soft and delicate.”

“Y-Yeah, I guess so,” the Dwarf nodded, picturing the Four Eastern Stars. Soft might not be the right word, but they definitely weren’t bodybuilders.

“There’s only one human who could take down a saber-toothed tiger!” Waffa barked.

“Ah, here we go again,” one of her companions said. “Lady Waffa’s ideal man spiel.”
“What’s so great about a human? I heard they’re really strong, but still.”
“I heard they were in the Ruler’s Rumble or something?”

Waffa glared at the three Dwarves, not hearing what her companions were saying. The men straightened up.

“We’re going to Gittan Trading first thing in the morning. You will lead the way.”

Her icy tone left no room for refusal.