Geography of Fishermen (2)

The dwarf and elf gave no answer to my declaration, not one of them even raising an objection.

I had to do this. I had to make sure that they kept to the ancient promise.

“This is so that the rules are followed.”

It was a sacred sacrament that the heads of the surviving races had made when the great war of the distant past had ended. I had gifted the words of it to this world through the lips of Agnes Bayern, who had been one of the Five Predecessors of humanity.

“The elves head into the forests, and the dwarves shall gain the under-earth.”

It was one of the terms of the Declaration of the End of the Great War.

“Okay, it was said thusly,” Turka said in an awkward tone as he nodded, throwing a glance at Sigrun. She was smiling, yet had failed to hide the displeasure of her innermost being. That was because humans and dwarves had banded together, making the elves the only ones who lost by the declaration.

Human beings, who had lived like slaves or even livestock, had finally triumphed and become the masters of this continent. The dwarves had pulled themselves from the war, suffering neither defeat nor claiming victory. The elves were the only remaining defeated race after the war.

It was a shameful historical event for the elves, and if my words did not make them uncomfortable, it would be strange indeed. Still, the fact that Sigrun did not like my words did not change reality. Even if she was a monstrous Elder High Elf who had existed for a millennium, history remained history.

No, especially due to the fact that she had lived so long, she knew all too well that she couldn’t break the covenant.

Her name was among the names of sixty-four high elves which had been inscribed in the declaration at the end of the war. If she denies that she is bound by the covenant, she stands to lose much, for that is the essence of a covenant between such high-ranking beings.

As I had expected, Sigrun did not object to my declaration. She just said that she could never become a good neighbor with a stinky dwarf, but I knew the possibility of an imminent and drawn-out war had been averted.

She had listened to me without a further word and then disappeared silently into the forest.

“I thought I would have to wage a war. Thanks to you, it all worked out well,” Turka said with a laugh as Sigrun left.

“I didn’t know there still existed any humans who remember the ancient covenant.”

His admiring words made me laugh. He couldn’t even know that I was the author of that very agreement.

It was usually so with the seeds that I had planted in this world. No one knew that I was present, and no one knew just how involved I was. And I did not really know either. Only by walking this world could I truly know the benefits that my actions had.

“The elves head into the forests, and the dwarves shall gain the under-earth.”

I once more repeated the words of the covenant, and this time through my own mouth, not Agnes’s.

“Good, good,” Turka stated as he heard my words.

“I accept your proposal, and will establish the new kingdom of our race under this land.”

He looked very happy as the problem of the new Eternal Furnace was half-solved.

However, although the matter of a new furnace has been settled, his accounting with me has not yet been resolved.

“Before all that, you have to check your bill with me.”

Turka laughed.

“You cancer, so I still have to pay for it?” he stated, still laughing. “We dwarves are at least not breakers of our bonds, like those slick elves.”

His laughter did not last long, and his face hardened as he saw my expression.

“The price I demand corresponds to the value of the boon,” I stated.

His joy was replaced by clear anxiety.

“Is it possible to have ten great swords forged by the Meisters?” I asked as I looked at Turka, and then continued on in a humming tone, “Or maybe a hundred pieces of dwarven armor?”

I forced myself not to smile, yet the corners of my mouth kept creeping up.

“How much, in fact, is it worth for you if I manage to end the grudge of a millennium-old Elder High Elf?”

Turka’s stiff face now looked as if it had died.

* * *

Since our mission was done, there was no need to stay. We immediately returned to the fortress, and I called a meeting with Vincent and the other heads of Winter Castle.

“Anyway, if we live above ground, why can’t we give them that which is beneath?”

The leaders did not disagree with the settling in of the new neighbors.

Rather, they were excited about the prospect of reputable blacksmiths moving in next-door. They unanimously approved the migration of the dwarves.

That was it.

They figured that they were just giving the land to be settled, and had no more to say.

Not one of them suggested demanding a price from the dwarves.

“I gave up useless land, but I guess they can pay us something for it,” said Vincent, mentioning the price in such a manner.

“So what do we ask in return?”

“Ten dwarven swords!”

The problem with these men was that they wanted an insignificant reward for something that the dwarves sorely needed.

“Oh! Oh! Ten bags of full of dwarven swords?”

“Yes, I’m sure they’ll give that to the head of the Balahard family!”

The commanders raised their thumbs, trying to support Vincent’s idea of asking a price as much as possible.

“Would it be okay if we asked them for at least one spear?”

“No, leave the spear, but ask for five suits of armor. We have to get

Quéon decided to speak, tabling a selfish proposal, and other lancers joined him in his request.

“We should include spears and armor.”

Applause poured out, and the commanders praised Vincent, who was rubbing his nose. The one-eyed cavalry commander clapped his hands together and exclaimed, “You are also a lord, so they must listen.”

I laughed until I could laugh no more.

These large men were all so distracted, wildly excited by the paltry prices that they were thinking up.

“Let them pay a great price.”

The excited men grew silent as they heard my words.

“Isn’t it unreasonable to ask for so little, if you are basically giving the dwarves the entire north to carve their halls into?”

Vincent jumped from his seat as he protested my words.

“I guess you don’t know the value of ten dwarven swords, because you have been in the royal palace your entire-“

“How much is it worth? Tell me!”

“On my life, I can’t even buy one even if I offered a thousand gold coins!” They are incredibly expensive since they are so hard to forge.”

As I heard his harsh words, it was clear that he did not even have a clear estimate of their worth. He was thinking in vague terms and thinking that ten swords were worth a kingdom just because they were weapons that any warrior would dream of possessing.

“You are being pathetic,” I told him.

He was not about to be insulted in such a manner and almost stepped up to me, but I hit him with the truth before he could.

“I knew you guys would be like this, so I’ve been asking for a higher price.”

The men of Winter Castle all looked at me with anticipation.

“Then what did you choose for us to receive in return?”

“Sword, spear, shield, and armor.”

“No different from what I was expecting,” Vincent stated, then asked with a groan, “How many, then?”

I raised one of my fingers.

“A single one of each?”

I shook my head.

“Ten!?”

Again, I shook my head.

The commanders all looked at me wide-eyed. One of them tentatively asked, “Well then, no way that-“

“One hundred.”

The men all stopped talking once I had said this.

“One hundred pieces of armor and weapons, total?” Vincent sputtered out the question as he broke the long silence that had reigned.

“Of course not! A hundred of each!”

Silence descended once more.

“One hundred swords, one hundred spears, one hundred shields, and one hundred suits of armor.”

Even after realizing it as I explained it to them again and again, they didn’t speak.

“How have you done it?” came the first cry.

“One hundred of each!”

Soon enough, their words became cheers.

“Long live the first prince!”

“Praise him!”

The men who had praised Vincent’s simple ideas were now cheering my name.

Vincent scrunched up his face but soon began to cheer along.

And I haven’t given them the most important news yet.

“There’s more.”

I continued talking as I looked at the men, who seemed as if they wished to kiss and hug me in joy. historical

“The dwarves have decided to take on the repairs of Winter Castle’s gate, spire, and walls that have been damaged in the last war.”

The men who had cheered suddenly held confused faces.

“And as soon as these repairs are done, the greatest weapon of the dwarves will be deployed to Winter Castle.”

“Their strongest weapon?”

As I looked at the faces of these men, I was sure some of them were about to pass out.

“But what is it?”

They wanted to know what the hell this weapon was that would come to the fortress.

“The dwarves call it Cheolpo. It is an artillery cannon.”

They tilted their heads at my answer, seeming to have no idea what the iron gun was.

It was natural.

Even in the days when Muhunshi had ruled the world, not many humans had known of the existence of these terrifying weapons that spat out fire and iron.

Even fewer humans existed who had grasped the full power of Cheolpo.

I was one of the few who had truly witnessed it, seeing its power in person.

The iron guns of the dwarves had finally brought down Gwangryong, the great dragon, who had been master of the skies, attacking the races of the earth.

“The dwarves shall explain its workings in greater detail later,” I declared with a joyous smile.

I was excited for the men of Winter Castle to witness the power of Cheolpo with their own eyes.

I wasn’t sure, but I guessed that there would be some of them who would piss their pants.

“Vincent. Later, when I demonstrate the power of Cheolpo, be sure to stand in front of me.”

“Oh, oh! If you give me that chance.. “

I laughed for a long time, for when I had looked at the smiling Vincent, I had known that he suspected nothing.

* * *

The meeting was over, and all the commanders left their seats.

“Vincent,” I said as I caught him trying to leave the room.

I then told him of another price I had asked from the dwarves, one I did not wish to mention before the men.

“It’s a dungeon.”

Vincent frowned.

Dungeons in this world were known mostly as the dens of evil wizards, or the fathomless depths that stretched to the abyss in which the demons dwelled. And they mostly appeared in the old stories. Vincent knew this well.

He looked somewhat dejected by the prospect of a dungeon beneath his lands.

“Do you have any reason to dig it beneath Winter Castle? Because that saddens me.”

He continued. “We are not moles, so why even construct things underground? It is only those without pride that have anything to hide.”

“I guess you’ve forgotten,” I told him. “We have a lot to hide, and we are the weaker guys.”

We had five-hundred knights that were a direct contravention of the treaty. We were nurturing wizards for the future. And not even those two facts had to be obfuscated, no, we would need a place to hide our war supplies and all other sorts of things in the future.

A dungeon was essential for us, and no place was as suitable for secret-keeping as a dungeon.

Moreover, it wasn’t just matters of security that I was thinking of.

It was only a matter of time until the dwarves started digging and carving their kingdom in the northwestern tip of the kingdom. At such a time, the dungeon would serve as a gateway, connecting the kingdom of the dwarves with Winter Castle. Any goods that they would wish to supply to the kingdom would have to head through my dungeon first.

Furthermore, a dungeon would serve as the most effective path through the north, for if the soldiers of Balahard marched via subsurface passages, they would not have to march through blizzards and ankle-deep snow. Furthermore, no one would even know that they were on the march.

Such an enormous advantage was not to be scoffed at, and it would be foolish to oppose the construction of dungeons out of laziness or fear.

Count Vincent Balahard was no fool. He quickly grasped the military application and advantage of such a subterranean passageway, and he gave me a thumbs-up.

“Build that dungeon, to your heart’s content.”

The head of the Balahard family had agreed, and so the treaty between the north and the dwarves, as set out by me, was born.

“I shouldn’t have given up as much as dear old Cheolpo,” Turka grumbled.

No one listened to the complaining dwarf, who stood with his hands in his pockets as if he had been deeply wronged.

And deep into one night, some days after we had successfully signed the treaty with the dwarves, an uninvited guest visited my room.

“Your Highness. It was not wise to place others, especially those others, before you fiance,” said the maniac elf – who had been humiliated at the border – after she had come to me.

“I was waiting,” I welcomed her.

“You mean, for me?” she asked, her tone possessing a natural grace.

“Now, my business with the dwarves is done. I have yet to finish with you elves.”

She folded her arms as she looked at me. Her attitude was one that seemed to say: “Please, do talk to your heart’s content.”

So, I talked to my heart’s content.

“Now, I’ve prevented the war with the dwarves. So- what else do the elves want to pay for?”