—The next day.
We arrived at the dwarf village, located a short distance from the elf settlement.
Today’s lineup: me, Sonya, Ouroboros, the elf queen, and the palm-top rabbits.
Maria drew house-sitting duty this time.
The dwarf village sits close to a mine, and at its center stands what looks like a large ironworks, black smoke rising from it.
“Sorry to say, but we’re short on menfolk at present.”
Per the dwarf chief: war seems to be brewing among the neighboring countries, so the entire village is currently mobilized producing weapons and armor.
Dwarf reference data: male average height around 155 cm, women around 140.
And everyone — man or woman — is either an ojisan, an obasan, a grandpa, a grandma, or a child of twelve or under.
Per Ouroboros: dwarves are a long-lived race, and both sexes simply age all at once at a set point.
Apparently a common phenomenon among long-lived races — the result being no one who LOOKS mid-teens through early thirties exists at all.
“Surely something can be arranged, Chief! After all you and I have been through!”
The elves apparently source their pre-enchantment stock from the dwarf village, and the two races have been friendly for generations on the strength of it.
For the elves — a fundamentally loner species — the dwarves rate the rare designation of Good Neighbor.
“Even so…”
The dwarf chief — an old man of about seventy, by appearance — made a troubled face.
We’d been shown into the chief’s parlor, incidentally, and the standard of living looks quite comfortable.
The tea they served is good, too.
“Wait — Chief, don’t you have a GRANDDAUGHTER! Still a half-rank at weaponsmithing, as I recall — meaning her hands are FREE, are they not? Carpentry is bedrock technique for your people… she could manage it in her sleep! Lend us the girl for two weeks!”
And there, from the back of the house, emerged a girl who looked about twelve.
Glossy pale-blue hair, height maybe 135 centimeters.
Slender to the point of delicacy — the polar opposite of the barrel-muscled dwarf stereotype.
—Also, this girl is TREMENDOUSLY cute.
The fragile kind of lovely that looks like she’d snap if you touched her. Just looking at her is therapeutic, somehow.
“Grandpa… I could go, you know? I’m still a half-rank, but… in pure technique, Boku’s already been recognized as full-rank, so…”
A… a… a BOKU girl?!
As expected of a fantasy world.
First time in my life hearing a girl talk like that.
“Out of the question, Katia!”
”…Eh?”
“You remain a half-rank! Leaving the village is FORBIDDEN!”
“Can nothing be done, Chief?! A single week would suffice! The wages will be generous!”
Oi oi. The one actually PAYING here is me.
Stop making unilateral commitments… though she won’t listen anyway, so I’ll keep quiet.
“Elf request or no… the village law… is the law.”
“Law?”
“Mm. A half-rank remains in training, and may not go into the outside world. And the proof of full rank is this: gather the special ore from the mine with thine own hands, and forge from that ore a single weapon.”
“But…”
“In truth — as the girl herself said — in technique alone she is already full-rank.”
“Then why hasn’t she forged her proof already?”
“The original plan was last month, on the girl’s birthday. But as I told you — the rush order came in… and we cannot spare an escort to the mine.”
”…An escort?”
“The mine has become a dungeon, you see. The trip means every man in the village guarding the girl as she delves.”
And there, the elf queen nodded with a grin.
“Understood. Then that escort — WE shall supply it!”
That was FAST!
Also, was any part of you planning to ask US first, your majesty…?
And so, apparently, we’re going dungeon-delving.