Just as I’d finished organizing my thoughts, the young dwarf Hodh who had run off earlier came back with perfect timing. “Ai. Says he’ll be waiting.”
“All right. Thank you very much for taking the trouble.” I smiled and bowed slightly to him.
He opened his eyes wide and waved both hands in front of him frantically.
“No, no! Don’t bow to me!”
“No, really, it was a big help. And you, Thori. Thank you very much for today. Let’s talk again.”
“It’s an honor to hear that from you, Paladin. Anytime!”
I bowed to both of them and left. The two responded by bending into deep bows until I left their sight, which I found kind of uncomfortable. I soon realized that the other dwarves in the street must have noticed me too, because they were also bowing.
Of course, my place in society was high enough now that it was only natural for that to happen, and strongly refusing their show of respect would only leave them in an awkward position. I had no choice but to accept it, but even so, I couldn’t help feeling a little unsettled. Was the reason something to do with my previous life’s memories, or was it just that I still wasn’t accustomed to it?
I felt that I needed to get used to things like this and learn to assume a dignified air. But on the other hand, the idea of becoming completely accustomed to having people revere me also scared me a little, and I worried that something precious inside me would go numb.
Becoming important wasn’t easy.
“I apologize for the sudden visit.”
“Not at all. Thank you for coming.”
I was in the parlor of one of the larger mansions in Dwarftown. Those first solemn words had come from a dignified dwarf with a smooth bald head and a neatly braided steel-gray beard. He was Agnarr, the dwarf with the most influence in this town.
Beside him was a bony old dwarf with sleek white hair. I didn’t recognize him. My first thought was that his eyes looked pretty tired.
“This is Grendir. He represents the migrants who moved into this town just recently and is also my great-uncle.”
“Pleasure.” Keeping it short, he bowed his head to me.
“My name is William. I was entrusted with the governance of these Beast Woods by His Excellency Ethelbald, Duke of Southmark.” I placed my right hand over my heart, brought my left foot back slightly, and bowed to him in return. If he represented an entire group, I couldn’t afford to treat him lightly.
Grendir responded with the same gesture, performed with incredible fluidity.
Did that mean he knew of the old etiquette? If he did—
“Please sit down.” My thoughts were interrupted by Agnarr offering me the seat that was reserved for the most important guests.
“Thank you very much.” Given my position, I couldn’t refuse this, so I suppressed the urge to be polite and sat down.
After a short while, Agnarr’s wife brought in some tea.
There are many stories about dwarven women. Some say they are beautiful and fairy-like, while others disagree and say they are incredibly chunky and muscular and have beards. But I had learned from meeting them personally that the correct answer was “all of the above.”
In their youths, dwarven women were just a little plump and beautiful like spirits of the forest. But perhaps because they didn’t care much about their appearances, once they got married, they quickly turned into looking like rough, middle-aged ladies. And the dwarven men weren’t very concerned about the change.
On top of that, it seemed to be part of dwarven culture to hide their women from outsiders and not let them out in public. I suspected that coincidental glimpses of female dwarves had been outsiders’ only source of information, and what had resulted were the extreme stories of them all being fairy-like or having beards.
As for whether Agnarr’s wife fell into the fairy or bearded category, I decline to comment.
I took a sip of my herbal tea and thought about how I should proceed. The Iron Country topic was one close to their hearts, so rather than asking about it immediately, I figured it would be better to have a little bit of friendly chat beforehand to break the ice.
Taking in the unique aroma and bitter taste of the herbal tea, I went with a safe question. “So, Grendir, why did you and your group come here?”
“To die.”
A terrible answer came back, and I had a coughing fit, almost spitting out my tea. “Ahem. Sorry.”
“Grendir, you will shock him being so blunt,” Agnarr said, lightly reproaching him.
Grendir made a troubled face, and went quiet for a while. I sat up straight and waited for him.
He spent some time collecting his thoughts, then started to speak in a composed voice. “We don’t have long ahead of us. It is our wish to die gazing at our homeland.”
“Sir William, for your information, Grendir is a survivor from the mountains to the west.”
Now things made a little more sense. I imagined that once I grew old and my final days approached, I would want to die gazing at the hill where that temple stood.
“The mountains of our old homeland are no longer ours, and the land at the base of the mountain had been transformed into a forest teeming with beasts. But after we heard the rumors that a hero had reclaimed that land…”
But that still didn’t mean I’d understood everything Grendir was feeling. I wondered how powerful those feelings must be.
“Looking from afar at our beloved mountain range, dreaming that one day our old home will be taken back. If I can die like that, how happy I would be…
We all shared those same feelings with each other, and came here as fellows of similar mind.”
How sad must it be that they were unable to return to their homeland no matter how much they wished for it?
How frustrated must they feel that their homeland was stolen from them and they were never able to take it back?
How much must they have gone through to reach this point, where they could bring themselves to say they’d be happy to die looking from afar at the place that was once their home?
“We will do any job you ask of us. Please, as much trouble as it is, please allow us to stay in some corner of the city.”
I couldn’t truly understand the way he was feeling. But for that very reason, as the person in charge of Torch Port, I felt as if I had a duty to make a statement of intent and responsibility.
“Please don’t worry. I will do everything I can.” I held one of Grendir’s hands with both of mine, looked into his eyes, put feeling into my words, and hoped strongly that he would understand. “I will protect you all from injustice.”
“Ohh…” His hand trembled. My eyes shifted to it for a moment, and when I looked back, I saw that tears were streaming down his cheeks. He gripped back with his quivering hand, and said two words, over and over. “Thank you… Thank you…”
Two hundred long years ago, those famous halls of stone known as the Iron Country had a monarch. Short and thin in stature, he was a pensive lord of few words who preferred the art of language to that of fighting. He was the final ruler of the Iron Country, and his name was Aurvangr.
He had inherited the country from the previous monarch and ran the kingdom smoothly, but it was said that the warriors there bemoaned the fact that their new king was beloved not by Blaze, god of fire, but by the god of knowledge, Enlight.
As for the people, they did not dislike their monarch. He treated both those who could fight and those who could not equally and did not particularly differentiate between them. He understood the feelings of those who were not warriors well.