The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
Chapter 67: The White Anvil Tribe (1)
Since waking from his dream, the atmosphere in the Vince Territory had not been great.
Even though there was no direct damage, a high-ranking demon’s attack after 20 years was enough to unsettle everyone.
“Of course. If it weren’t for you, we’d all be dead.”
Veronica, sprawled out on the sofa in his room with her arms draped over the backrest, asked,
“So, how did you know it was a dream?”
“Who knows? Just a man’s intuition?”
“...Forget it. If you don’t want to tell me, fine.”
Clicking her tongue, she rose from her seat and muttered under her breath,
“...Thanks.”
“What was that?”
“Ugh, are your ears clogged? I said, thank you!”
Veronica’s ears turned bright red as she spoke, clearly embarrassed.
“That said, since I saved your life this time, we’re even now.”
“Hmm. Somehow, I feel like I’m getting the short end of the stick...”
“...Fine. How about this: if you need my help in the future, I’ll lend a hand once. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Oscar smiled lightly.
This incident had brought them closer, no doubt about it.
As if to reassure herself, Veronica murmured,
“And... what you saw of me earlier... forget it, okay? It’s so embarrassing I feel like jumping out the window.”
“Embarrassing? Which part?”
“The part where I—at my age—was still yearning for a family...”
“I don’t think that’s embarrassing at all.”
Oscar shook his head firmly.
“Demons are good at that sort of thing—exploiting what people want most.”
“You sound like you know a lot about it.”
“Read a book sometime. Then you’d know too.”
“...You’re insufferable.”
Her curt reply was followed by a brief hesitation before she nodded.
“Well, if you say so, I guess there’s nothing I can do. I’m off.”
Her voice sounded brighter, a sign she still wasn’t great at hiding her emotions.
Oscar smirked slightly before heading off to see the lord of Vince.
“Ah, how are you feeling? You truly saved the day this time.”
“I was lucky. How’s the recovery effort coming along?”
“We’ve already reported the matter to the Imperial Palace.”
“What did they say?”
“They’ll be sending someone to investigate soon. They’ll probably want to talk to you too, Oscar.”
An Imperial investigator.
That was to be expected.
Given that this involved demons, it was only natural they’d react strongly.
“Understood. I’ll stay put at the White Tower until then.”
“Yes, there’s much I’d like to share with you about this, but it’s all classified...”
“I understand.”
The Imperial Palace would likely be keeping a tight lid on what happened in Vince.
It was possible other territories wouldn’t even realize there had been a demonic attack.
Of course, it would be impossible to contain every leak, but still.
“I’ll never forget the debt we owe you, Oscar.”
“There’s no need to call it a debt...”
“No, truly. Between the Cadena Flue and now this, I know better than anyone that we wouldn’t have come through with so little damage if not for your help.”
Pietta Vince’s expression turned confident, his smile full of gratitude.
“I vow that Vince will always be a steadfast ally to the White Tower and to you, Oscar.”
Returning to the White Tower, Oscar was informed someone was waiting for him.
He hurried to the location without even pausing to rest.
“Elder!”
He found himself in Elder Schwein’s research lab, where the elder greeted him with open arms.
“You’re here! I was waiting so long, I thought my neck might snap!”
“Apologies. I had to visit the Vince Territory for a bit.”
After a brief hug, the elder nodded.
“I’ve heard the rumors. They say a needle hidden in a pouch always finds its way out. You can’t help but draw attention wherever you go.”
“I’d much prefer to stay quietly tucked away in the pouch, honestly. But seeing you here means...”
Oscar’s eyes sparkled with anticipation as he trailed off.
Schwein chuckled and nodded.
“The magic-engineered battery is finally complete. It’s only a prototype, but it works.”
“Congratulations!”
“Come now, this isn’t just my achievement; it’s ours.”
Schwein handed over his research notes, saying,
“Take a look. Maybe you’ll come up with some improvements as you read.”
“I’m no expert in magic engineering, but I’ll give it a shot.”
After all, magical theorists practically lived to have someone read their papers and offer a 5,500-word critique.
Gathering the hefty documents, Oscar asked,
“So, all that’s left now is to build the airship?”
“Indeed. While you were away, I scouted several shipyards. Which do you think we should go with?”
As he skimmed the list, Oscar blinked in confusion.
“What’s this?”
“Hmm? It’s a list of shipyards we could commission. I only picked the most reputable ones.”
“No, that’s not what I meant...”
Why were they considering humans for a project as crucial as building the airship?
He didn’t need a mirror to know his expression was less than pleased.
“Wouldn’t it be better to entrust this to the dwarves? For various reasons.”
“...Dwarves?”
Schwein looked surprised, then burst into laughter.
“Haha! Sometimes I forget you’re an amnesiac because you seem so normal.”
“Excuse me?”
“Long story short, we can’t work with dwarves right now.”
“Why not? Doesn’t the White Tower have an exclusive contract with the White Anvil Tribe?”
And the contract still had plenty of time left, too.
He’d know—he was the one who brokered the 50-year deal with them 32 years ago.
“Their hands are tied. The Dwarven King has forbidden them from interacting with humans.”
“...Why would the Dwarven King do that?”
“Well...”
Looking as if he were confronting an awkward self-portrait, Schwein gazed out the window and began his explanation.
“After the war with the demons, the Empire needed countless architects to rebuild its cities. Naturally, the dwarves were the most sought-after.”
It made perfect sense.
The dwarves could construct safer, sturdier, and more aesthetically pleasing buildings faster than humans could.
Of course, it must have been that way.
They could build safer, more sensory, and sturdier buildings than humans, and do so faster.
“But, as you know, they were very few in number, so they had to sign contracts in order of priority, starting with those who held significant power or wealth.”
“No way...?”
Suddenly struck by a grim thought, Oscar gave a look as if to say, ‘That’s not true, is it?’
Schwein, looking at him, gave a heavy nod.
“Yes, some lords from certain cities, dissatisfied with the arrangement, kidnapped dwarves and forced them into labor.”
“Oh, my god.”
Oscar instinctively covered his face with both hands.
Intelligent beings of non-human species were not particularly numerous.
Perhaps because of this, they tended to stick together and shared a strong sense of camaraderie.
“To have kidnapped such beings and forced them into labor...”
It didn’t take much imagination to guess that the Dwarf King must have been furious.
It was entirely understandable that he had cut off all relations with humans altogether.
“At this point, no human is able to have any interaction with the dwarves, correct?”
“That’s right. The royal family is working hard to mend relations, but I hear it hasn’t been easy.”
That fury was unlikely to subside anytime soon.
Especially given that dwarves, who lived for centuries, probably wouldn’t consider 17 years a particularly long time.
“But our case might be a bit different, don’t you think? We signed an exclusive contract with them beforehand.”
As far as Oscar knew, the White Tower was the only entity to have established an exclusive contract with the dwarves before relations deteriorated.
After that, no other group would have been able to form any such contract.
Schwein nodded, agreeing with his reasoning.
“We thought the same. That’s why we’ve tried to negotiate with the White Anvil clan several times, but... they say the King’s orders are absolute, and there’s nothing they can do.”
“Then we’ll need to have a direct talk with the Dwarf King.”
“I doubt he’d even agree to meet. From what I’ve heard, he’s been ignoring even communications from the royal family.”
“In that case, I have a good idea.”
Intrigued, Schwein showed his interest.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. I think the reason they’re being rejected is that they’re being too polite in their approach.”
“...Just to be sure, whatever you’re planning, violence is out of the question.”
“Of course. Trying to resolve things with brute force in today’s world would be a disaster.”
In this modern, smart world, Oscar confidently nodded and said,
“We need to file a lawsuit against the Dwarf King for obstruction of business.”
“...Oscar, dwarves aren’t subject to human laws.”
“I know. That’s why we’ll demand the convening of the Underground Tribunal. Even the King has no veto over that.”
The Underground Tribunal.
This was the highest judicial body of the Dwarf Kingdom, attended only by the leaders of the clans and the Chief Justice.
It was a system usually invoked to redress injustices suffered by dwarves.
Hearing Oscar’s plan, Schwein blinked a few times.
“Is it even possible for a human to demand the convening of the Underground Tribunal?”
“It is, as far as I know.”
“Hmm, but even if it is possible... do you happen to know who the Chief Justice of the Underground Tribunal is?”
“Yes.”
Once again, the Underground Tribunal was an institution exclusively for dwarves, comprised of the most prominent leaders of the kingdom.
Naturally, its Chief Justice was the most exalted figure in the kingdom.
The King himself.
Dwarves, as described in storybooks, are simple to picture.
Short in stature, with long hair and beards braided according to individual preferences, skillful, and heavy drinkers.
None of this was untrue.
But...
“Ah, I want to drink.”
A young dwarf, Goren, whose face still bore the downy features of youth, suddenly grumbled.
The part about being crazy about alcohol often led people to imagine dwarves as burly, bearded old men.
However, their physical appearance was not so different from that of human children.
“Goren, didn’t you already have some this morning?”
“Not the stuff we make—I want to drink human-brewed liquor.”
“Well... we haven’t had that in quite a while.”
It had been 17 years since the Dwarves’ relationship with humans was severed due to the kidnapping incidents.
Thinking about human alcohol made the other dwarves smack their lips.
When it came to alcohol culture, humans far outshone the dwarves, who were limited in the types of drinks they could make in their dark, damp underground homes.
“Foolish, greedy humans. Why did they have to resort to kidnapping...?”
“I heard the Red Hammer clan out west sneaks up to the surface to buy alcohol. Can’t we do the same?”
“Their area has poor security, so they can get away with it. But here in our territory, the patrols are too strict.”
“To humans, we’re just little kids.”
“Ugh. Isn’t there a store where we can get good alcohol...?”
“I’m so sick of other clans showing off about the delicious drinks they’ve had.”
Officially, exchanges with humans had been cut off, but quite a few dwarves still snuck to the surface.
Most of the clan leaders turned a blind eye to such minor breaches.
“When will relations resume?”
“At least a hundred years will have to pass before His Majesty’s anger cools.”
“...So we still have 83 years to go.”
Today, their longing for human alcohol was almost unbearable.
Could it be that their wishes had reached the heavens?
“Whew... this is so heavy.”
Oscar arrived at the entrance to their village, pulling a massive cart loaded with various kinds of liquor.

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