The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
Chapter 69: The White Anvil Tribe (3)
La Forge.
This is the kingdom of the dwarves who revere the Primordial Flame.
It has been 17 years since they declared isolation and cut ties with humans due to an unfortunate incident.
The peaceful royal palace, where not even a raised voice was heard in years, was unusually bustling today.
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Urgent news!”
The king, Gordin, gazed at the vassal who practically collapsed to his knees before him, his expression growing solemn.
Those who knew Gordin well would immediately understand—he was extremely tense.
Urgent news... How long has it been since I last heard that phrase?
The most recent urgent report had come four years ago when there were sightings of demons again near the Red Mountain Range.
Perhaps today’s news would be a continuation of that.
Demons...
It had been 21 years since the war with them had ended.
And yet, the mere mention of the word still brought a sharp tension through his entire body.
Fully bracing himself, the youthful king, Gordin, asked,
“What is it?”
“Well, uh...”
The vassal, unable to meet his gaze, squirmed nervously.
Seeing this, Gordin’s suspicion turned into certainty.
He urged the vassal gently.
“It’s alright. Speak freely. What is this about?”
“Well, it’s just... I don’t know how to convey this...”
“Ugh! I said it’s fine! Just spit it out already!”
Gordin, whose temper was slowly rising, shouted in frustration.
Although he usually chose his words carefully and tried to remain composed due to his position as king, he was, like most dwarves, naturally quick-tempered.
Watching the vassal squirm was becoming unbearable.
“Y-yes, Your Majesty!”
The vassal swallowed nervously and pulled out two letters from his coat, presenting them respectfully.
Gordin took the letters and began reading them with a tense expression.
Suddenly, he froze.
“...What is this?”
“They are summons, Your Majesty.”
“I have eyes; I can see that. My question is why I am receiving this.”
“Well, if you read the bottom part carefully...”
The vassal trailed off.
Following the suggestion, Gordin read the summons all the way to the end and blinked in disbelief.
‘...Therefore, Gordin is hereby charged with interference with official duties and is required to appear at the Underground Court on the specified date and time.’
Even after reading the entire letter, Gordin couldn’t quite process it.
He asked again.
“So, you’re telling me... I’ve been sued?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“And the other letter?”
Gordin silently read the second letter, then pressed his lips together.
It was a notice confirming the court date, instructing him to appear as both the defendant and the presiding judge.
“Hah. Hahaha.”
Has there ever been a case in history where one person served as both the defendant and the judge?
As if anticipating the question, the vassal, who had done prior research, spoke cautiously.
“Well, Your Majesty, you appear to be the first case. My congratulations—”
“Congratulations, my foot!”
Gordin threw the letters angrily.
No matter how much dwarves loved firsts and unique achievements, this was not something to be proud of.
Watching the letters flutter to the ground, Gordin abruptly stood up.
“Who is this Oscar Crucian, the one suing me? What tribe does he belong to?”
“Well, he’s human. A 21-year-old mage from the White Tower.”
“...A human? A mage from the White Tower?”
La Forge and the White Tower were quite far apart.
And at just 21 years old, the boy was no more than a fledgling who had likely never even seen Gordin’s face.
“A brat barely out of his diapers is suing me? Hah.”
Even as he said the words, it felt absurd.
He, a king and judge of a nation, was being sued.
“Fine. Let’s see this arrogant brat’s face for ourselves.”
Gordin’s quiet fury echoed through the palace of La Forge.
The continent is vast.
The dwarves are divided into five tribes.
They are scattered across the wide expanse of the continent.
Humans often wondered:
So, where exactly is the Underground Court held?
Do they draw lots to choose a location each time?
No way. It must be somewhere central, like La Forge, the Dwarf Kingdom.
To clarify, this assumption was only half correct.
While the Underground Court was indeed located in La Forge, the dwarves did not physically gather there.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
In the magnificent underground court of La Forge, four blue flames erupted.
These flames, behaving like living creatures, nodded lightly to each other in greeting.
“Everyone is here.”
As Gordin entered the court, the flames bowed respectfully.
May the Great Flame illuminate your path.
These flames were none other than the leaders of each tribe.
With the help of the Primordial Flame, they transcended distances to attend the trial.
Sitting at the judge’s seat, Gordin looked down at them briefly before nodding.
“May the burning spirit reside in your creations. Be seated.”
Once the tribal leaders were seated, Gordin spoke.
“Let the trial begin.”
“Uh, Your Majesty,” Said the leader of the Red Sand Tribe, cautiously raising a hand.
“The defendant has not been summoned yet.”
Hearing this, the other tribal leaders glanced at the empty defendant’s seat, nodding in agreement.
“That’s true. This is unprecedented...”
“Could it be that the Primordial Flame made a mistake?”
“Which tribe does this defendant belong to?”
Frowning at their chatter, Gordin interrupted firmly.
“The Primordial Flame does not make mistakes.”
“Excuse me? Then does that mean... the defendant is already here?”
The leaders exchanged suspicious glances, each silently guessing which of them might be the culprit.
“It’s me.”
Gordin’s sudden confession silenced the court.
“...Your Majesty? What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that I am the defendant.”
“Hahaha! What a hilarious joke, Your Majesty.”
The leader of the Black Hammer Tribe laughed boisterously, but Gordin’s icy glare cut him off.
“Does it look like I’m joking?”
“...Wait. Are you serious?”
Realizing the truth, the tribal leaders fell into stunned silence.
When the Black Hammer leader tried to backtrack, Gordin warned sharply,
“If you’re about to congratulate me on this ‘first and only’ achievement, think again.”
“...I’ll just keep my mouth shut.”
After a brief moment of everyone exchanging nervous glances, their attention naturally turned to one figure—someone who had not spoken a word since entering the court.
“Hagor, could it be you who sued His Majesty?”
Under their accusing stares, the dwarf hastily denied it.
“Do you think I’ve lost my mind? Of course not. Though... it did happen in my jurisdiction.”
“Tsk. You should have nipped this in the bud. How could you let this escalate?”
“Aren’t you ashamed to face the king?”
These lunatics have no problem speaking their minds since it’s not their problem, Hagor thought angrily but stayed silent.
“Enough. Let the trial begin. Summon the plaintiff.”
At his command, a new flame erupted.
Naturally, the figure made of fire seemed amazed by his own form, gazing at his hands and hopping around in curiosity.
Gordin squinted at him, his patience wearing thin.
Finally, the flame introduced itself boldly.
“Greetings! I am Oscar Crucian, a Level 3 mage of the White Tower!”
At his words, the chieftains began murmuring among themselves.
“A mage? Then he’s human?”
“The White Tower and Oscar, such nostalgic names.”
“Silence, everyone.”
Gordin raised his hand lightly, quieting them, and then asked,
“So, we finally meet. I am Gordin, King of La Forge.”
“Ah, may the great flame illuminate your future.”
“What is the reason you’ve come to accuse me?”
Skipping any further pleasantries, Gordin abruptly asked.
“That is because Your Majesty has inflicted massive damage upon the White Tower.”
“Massive damage? Let’s hear what kind of damage I supposedly caused.”
Gordin tilted his head slightly as he gripped a massive hammer.
It was large enough to smash a person’s head but, at least here, it was used only for passing judgment.
...Up until now.
Oscar, who was calmly enduring the king’s fury, smiled faintly and began.
“Thirty-two years ago, the White Tower signed an exclusive fifty-year contract with the White Anvil Tribe. However, 17 years ago, an unfortunate incident occurred between humans and dwarves. In response, the Dwarf King declared complete isolation from humans, severing all relations. This cut off the White Tower’s access to the technological prowess of the White Anvil Tribe, leaving us in a situation where the end of this damage is unforeseeable. Thus, we had no choice but to bring this lawsuit against Your Majesty.”
“An exclusive contract, huh... Indeed, I recall something like that.”
Gordin nodded.
“It seems I was unaware of that detail. My deepest apologies.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, come now. What’s so difficult about offering a few words of apology? So, does the plaintiff wish for me to revoke the isolation order and restore the White Tower’s relations with the White Anvil Tribe?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“Hmm?”
That’s not what they wanted?
Gordin tilted his head further in curiosity.
“Then what is it that you want?”
“Your Majesty’s decision to declare isolation was indeed a wise one. To think humans dared to kidnap dwarves and force them into labor—such greed is appalling. I actually recommend severing relations with humans entirely for the next hundred years or so.”
“Well... I was already considering that. In fact, we’ve practically been doing so.”
Still, isn’t it odd for a human to take the dwarves’ side so suddenly?
Just as Gordin’s expression began to turn suspicious, his opponent finally revealed their true intentions.
“However, I propose maintaining the isolation while granting a limited exception for the existing exclusive contracts signed by the White Tower.”
“Ha!”
Gordin let out a dry laugh, realizing the scheme behind the suggestion.
“In other words, you want the White Tower to become the only human faction allowed to trade with dwarves on this continent. Is that it?”
“Well... depending on the perspective, one might interpret it that way.”
“Hah!”
This slippery human!
What?
Depending on the perspective?
That’s just a fancy way of saying they want a monopoly on trade with the dwarves!
‘It’s been 17 years since the isolation began. Their weapons would fetch astronomical prices in human society.’
In short, granting this request would grant the White Tower immense wealth and power.
‘Still, the transparency of their intentions makes it an easy decision.’
Admittedly, the White Tower had presented a reasonable argument.
Gordin was indeed unaware of the exclusive contract and bore some responsibility for the damage caused.
‘But so what?’
This underground court had no lawyers or prosecutors—only the plaintiff, the defendant, and the judge.
The judge, Gordin himself, would make the final ruling after hearing both sides.
He lifted the hammer.
“I’ve heard the plaintiff’s argument. However, granting exclusive trade rights to the White Anvil Tribe could create significant resentment among the other tribes. Thus, I decree that the exclusive contracts will resume only when the isolation is lifted.”
In simpler terms, the answer was no.
“To the defendant, I sentence ten minutes of community service within the kingdom. This court is adjourned.”
Bang, bang, bang!
The heavy sound of the hammer echoed through the courtroom.
“...Huh?”
Dumbfounded, Hagor stared at Oscar with trembling eyes.
‘He said there was a way to win!?’
Hadn’t he convened this underground court, even risking the king’s disapproval, based solely on that assurance?
Then, Oscar calmly raised his hand.
“The trial has already ended. Do you still have something to say?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Proceed.”
“I request a retrial.”
“...What?”
Gordin blinked at the unexpected request.
A retrial meant challenging the validity of the verdict on the grounds of significant procedural or evidential flaws.
‘In other words, he’s saying he can’t accept my ruling.’
Scoffing, Gordin replied,
“Do you have new evidence or arguments to overturn the situation?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“...If that’s the case, why didn’t you present it earlier?”
“For that, I have something to say in private.”
The meaning behind “in private” was not lost on Gordin.
After a moment’s thought, he nodded.
“Everyone, leave the court and wait until summoned again.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Fwoosh!
As the flames of the chieftains dissipated, Gordin asked,
“So, what is this matter you wish to discuss privately?”
Oscar’s demeanor shifted.
His previously humble bow straightened into a confident posture.
‘Throughout history, school ties, regional ties, and blood ties were powerful connections.’
But when the war with the demons began, these superficial connections crumbled.
On the harsh battlefield, where lives were lost daily, such ties held no value.
‘Instead, a new bond emerged.’
One forged with comrades who entrusted their backs and lives to each other—a bond stronger than family.
“Hmm.”
Oscar gazed at Gordin, a dwarf who had once served in his unit, whose life he had saved multiple times, and said,
“Sergeant Gordin, how have you been all these years?”

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