A Craftsman Chooses His Tools (1)
After the artificial guardian revealed itself in Alvenheim, the world was thrown into turmoil.
Everyone had already known that Alvenheim’s recent movements were suspicious.
Consequently, every nation had dispatched informants and spies to keep a close watch on the situation.
Then, amid all this, the astonishing invention known as the artificial guardian appeared.
Elves had always been considered technologically backward, irrespective of their race’s innate strength.
More precisely, their magic was reasonably advanced, but their scientific technology was lacking. This was unavoidable, as they had rarely ever felt the need for it.
As Grylls had once said, you had to experience convenience before you could recognize inconvenience.
Since most elves were conservative and exclusionary, this was only natural.
For centuries, the prevailing perception had been that Alvenheim was technologically underdeveloped. Now, that perception had been shattered head-on.
Title: Never Look Down on Elves Again
We elves are now a technological powerhouse too!
└ You made a single guardian and you’re already saying that? Lmao.
└ And have you lot made one? Lol.
└ We haven’t because we have no reason to, kek.
└ You’ll be lucky if all you manage to do with it is farm, lmao.
└ Exactly. You lot can keep driving your oxen. We’ll build our own oxen, lmao.
└ Fuck, something about that sounds wrong.
└ Making an ox might actually be better than raising one...
Title: The Dwarves Are Probably the Most Nervous
The dwarves have always prided themselves on their incredible technology, but lately they’ve been taking L after L.
The artificial guardian proved that the elves have just as much potential as the dwarves, and even their brewing skills are getting mogged by the demons.
If they fall behind completely, it’s obvious what’ll happen to all the minerals over there, lmao.
└ For real. Whenever mineral prices go up, it always turns out those dwarf bastards were pulling some petty stunt, lmao.
└ Ah, lmao. Beer brewed by demons tastes better now.
└ Take that back...!
└ I’m not going to, lmao.
The artificial guardian came as an especially great shock to humans and dwarves.
Both races had prided themselves on being second to none when it came to technology.
Humans shaped the global order with their uniquely powerful organizational abilities, while dwarves used their innate craftsmanship to produce all manner of goods.
However, the artificial guardian unveiled by Alvenheim was more than enough to deal a devastating blow to that pride.
It was a problem for humanity, but the dwarves—or more specifically, Mountain—could not afford to sit idly by.
Mountain shared a border with Alvenheim, so it was only natural for it to regard the guardian as a threat.
"The elves have been acting pretty suspicious lately. There isn’t really going to be a war, is there?"
"Tell me about it. Between this and Eldorado, the world’s going to hell."
Even dwarves, who generally had no interest in anything besides their work and beer, could not easily ignore this incident.
It wounded their racial pride, and the elves had caused far too many problems in the past.
Planting trees along the border was no trivial matter. The problem was that those trees rendered the surrounding land barren.
The dwarves needed charcoal for their work. With the trees needed to produce that charcoal disappearing, they had no choice but to be troubled.
"We should’ve gone to war before they unveiled that thing."
Since the elves were directly harming Mountain’s resources—and consequently one of its core national industries—it would not have been strange for Mountain to declare war.
One might ask why they could not simply use coal, but Mountain lacked the necessary refining technology.
Just as wood had to be processed into charcoal, coal also required the invention of suitable refining techniques.
Thus, the dwarves still had no choice but to use charcoal. Even if that had not been the case, Alvenheim’s actions had crossed the line.
"What power do we have? Our weapons might be good, but we barely have any soldiers to wield them."
Even so, declaring war would be extremely difficult for Mountain.
Elves were often mocked as tree-huggers, but the innate strength of their race could never be disregarded.
Moreover, among all races, dwarves possessed physiques that put them at a severe disadvantage in combat.
To make matters worse, nine out of ten dwarves were alcoholics—an utterly absurd racial trait.
They had managed to hold their ground until now thanks to the quality of their weapons, but in a war between entire races, they had far too many disadvantages.
"Still, wasn’t there a human named Grylls? I heard he was going to support us."
"Ah, I heard about that too. He’s sending us an alloy of mithril and orichalcum, right?"
"Damn. Imagine how incredible a weapon made from an alloy like that would be."
"More importantly, I want to drink liquor infused with medicinal herbs from the Forest of Four Seasons."
"Yeah, that does sound more tempting."
Stories about Grylls were famous even in Mountain.
Strictly speaking, the dwarf who had received support from him, Passing Dwarf, was even more famous.
He was the one who had fulfilled every dwarf’s dream by receiving all manner of medicinal herbs and minerals from Grylls.
What they envied most was the infused liquor made with a fully matured mandrake. They felt as though they could die happy if they could taste even a single sip.
The dwarves had therefore searched high and low for Passing Dwarf, but he was remarkably difficult to find.
Since practically every dwarf was an alcoholic, identifying someone based on the particular alcohol he drank was difficult. The same applied to the minerals.
He used every mineral he received almost immediately, making it difficult to uncover his identity even by inspecting the smithies.
"Let’s just keep doing our jobs. The higher-ups will handle everything anyway."
"Right. If anyone starts a war, it’ll be the elves. All we have to do is defend our own land."
"Come to think of it, the tavern next door recently started selling a new beer..."
"Do you have money?"
"Pay back what you owe before you start talking."
The dwarves continued living their lives with their race’s characteristic optimism.
They could look into the matter when signs of war appeared or an official notice was issued.
For now, they would do what they enjoyed—and drink beer while they were at it.
While Mountain quietly went about another ordinary day...
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The sound of someone diligently hammering iron rang out from a smithy.
Since this was a dwarven settlement, the sound of hammering iron was extremely familiar.
However, this particular ringing was exceptionally clear and pure, enough to draw the attention of passing dwarves.
"Isn’t that Gareth’s smithy?"
"Yeah. That sound’s incredibly clean, though."
"Did his skills improve or something?"
"That guy does nothing but drink every day."
The smithy’s owner was none other than Gareth, a dwarf famous even among his own people for being a drunkard.
There was hardly a dwarf who disliked alcohol, but Gareth’s fondness for it was excessive even by their standards.
He spent the entire day drunk, occasionally hammering iron whenever he grew bored.
In fact, he earned more money selling the alcohol he brewed himself.
Naturally, the other dwarves could not help wondering why he was working so diligently at the forge.
"Maybe there was something he wanted to make."
"I should stop by later and mooch some booze off him."
Of course, the dwarves soon lost interest.
Meanwhile, Gareth continued hammering away alone in his smithy.
"Phew."
He examined the object he had made.
It was unquestionably a masterpiece. A small exclamation escaped Gareth’s lips.
Ordinarily, he did not possess the skill necessary to produce such a masterpiece.
He had the natural dexterity characteristic of dwarves, but no exceptional talent beyond that.
Talent varied greatly even among dwarves, and Gareth was relatively lacking in that regard.
This hammer is seriously overpowered.
But that was no longer the case.
He stared at the hammer that had allowed him to create the masterpiece.
It was the Mithricon hammer Grylls had given him. When he infused it with mana, a green galaxy appeared across its surface.
Normally, iron had to be heated intensely in a fire before it could be worked.
Once it glowed yellow, the smith had to strike it forcefully with a hammer to shape it.
Heated metal was softer, but working it was by no means easy.
"It’s like kneading clay."
The Mithricon hammer was different. Using it felt as though he were shaping clay far softer than iron.
There was no need to strike hard at all. All he had to do was tap it lightly and precisely.
This allowed him to achieve a level of delicacy he had never even dreamed of, and that delicacy had resulted in a masterpiece.
All this had happened merely because he had changed hammers. Gareth could scarcely believe it.
’A true craftsman doesn’t blame his tools’? What a load of crap.
With a tool like this, it felt more accurate to say that one needed to choose the right tool to become a master craftsman.
The hammer was currently in Gareth’s hands, but if a true master craftsman wielded it, they would undoubtedly create a masterpiece that would go down in history.
Even so, he had no intention of revealing the hammer to the public.
If I do that, they’ll naturally steal the mature mandrake too. I can’t let that happen.
He could tolerate losing the hammer. The mature mandrake, however, had to be protected at all costs.
Had he not given one to his friend Wagner, the leatherworker, in exchange for keeping the secret?
As a dwarf who lived and died for alcohol, liquor was far more precious to him than any hammer.
He gave me something this good. Isn’t there anything I can give him in return?
Gareth set the hammer down for a moment and looked around.
His smithy was perfectly ordinary. Moreover, he usually visited his brewery more frequently than his forge.
Consequently, he had not been able to offer Grylls anything particularly special when providing him with supplies. That still bothered him.
Should I give him a brewing barrel?
Gareth seriously considered the idea.
If Grylls had given him an item of this caliber, Gareth ought to offer something equally valuable in return.
For a dwarf to give away a brewing barrel—something as precious as life itself—meant that they had received an equally great favor. And Gareth certainly had.
However, after recalling Grylls’s circumstances, he quickly discarded the idea. Grylls was struggling just to survive. What use would he have for alcohol?
It would be much better to pass on other knowledge—specifically, Gareth’s metallurgical expertise.
Even if I teach him, he’ll probably have to adapt everything himself anyway.
Gareth had heard about the smelting process from Grylls.
Apparently, all kinds of things had exploded.
However, Grylls was the only person capable of working with an alloy of mithril and orichalcum.
"Hey, my friend. Are you in there?"
While Gareth was lost in thought, a familiar voice reached his ears.
It was Wagner, his drinking buddy and the dwarf who had gifted Grylls a pair of shoes.
Gareth hurriedly hid the Mithricon hammer and opened the smithy door.
"What is it?"
"I was just curious. I wondered why you’d been hammering iron for so long. Did something happen?"
Something certainly had.
Gareth shrugged and answered casually.
"I was bored, so I did some smithing. It’s nothing."
"Really? What did you make?"
"A pickaxe."
Pickaxes were commonly replaced pieces of equipment among dwarves.
That was only natural, considering how many of them worked as miners.
Wagner examined the pickaxe Gareth claimed to have made.
"...What the hell? This is fucking well-made."
"Is it? Thanks."
"Hey, I’ll buy it, so give me a discount."
"What kind of shameless bullshit is that? Pay full price."
"Come on. We’re friends."
Despite saying that, Wagner purchased it at full price.
He looked around the smithy, searching for anything else that might have changed.
However, he found nothing noteworthy. There was a new hammer, but its dull gray color kept it from attracting his interest.
"Forget that. Let’s drink. I bought the snacks."
"Oh, did you? I’ll go wash up."
Whatever else they might be, the two were drinking buddies.
It did not take long for them to prepare everything.
The alcohol went down particularly smoothly for Gareth that day. Drinking after a hard day’s work truly made it taste as sweet as honey.
Later, once they were both pleasantly tipsy, Wagner spoke.
"Oh, right. Did you hear the rumor?"
"What rumor?"
"That the higher-ups might start a war."
"What? We’re going to attack first? Why?"
Gareth frowned at the suggestion that a war might break out.
He had assumed that the elves might attack Mountain first, but never imagined that Mountain would be the one to initiate the war.
"Because of the elves... though there are quite a few strange details."
"Strange details?"
"Yeah. I don’t know much about it, but have you heard of someone called Grylls? Apparently, everyone who uses the Gallery knows him."
Why had that name suddenly come up?
Gareth blinked.
However, Wagner’s next words were more than enough to shock him.
"There’s a rumor that Mountain might start a war to obtain Mithricon from that human."
"...That sounds fucking insane. The elves might end up getting it instead."
"Either way, it means Mithricon might enter circulation. They’re trying to stir up anxiety over it."
"...."
The situation had taken an unexpected turn.
It was also deeply ironic.
Something revealed in an attempt to prevent war was now causing one instead.
...
Even Grylls probably had not anticipated this.
It seemed he had greatly underestimated humanity’s greed.
They’re not going to conscript me, are they?
A creeping sense of foreboding began to rise within Gareth.