They said it was a week, but a day in the underwater Dwarf Village was different from the surface.
First off, the light here wasn’t sunlight but an artificial light source. When it shone, it was day; when it dimmed, it was night.
That’s why they said a week had passed.
“Probably about two days have passed on the surface.”
“Time perception is completely out the window here.”
“But for them, that’s just their defined ‘day.’”
In other words, they called it a week, but in reality, we’d only been here for about two days. Though for the dwarves, it felt like a week.
The Elderly Dwarf, War’s Hammer, said this was also the Empire’s doing.
By completely messing with the dwarves’ sense of time and making them rely on that light source, it made them easier to control in various ways.
Anyway, the important thing is:
To Charlie, the dwarf in the Watchtower, we looked like stubborn pests who’d been holding out for a whole week. Even though it was only two days for us.
“Sorry, but two days of this is already plenty long.”
“Huh? Isn’t that just a few rounds of a strategy board game? Right, Sally?”
“Y-yes, Young Master, you’re absolutely right……….”
“Sally?”
……Anyway.
I’m not sure how much longer I can stay here, but when I asked Shisha, she said I could stick around for at least a few more days.
From the dwarves’ perspective, some human guy is camped out in front of their village for weeks, begging them to take on a request.
Honestly, if it’s a battle of time, the dwarves, who’ll live here forever, have the upper hand.
But right now, they had something important going on.
“Sally, how many days did the old man say were left until the festival?”
“U-um, four days by our time.”
“Not much left, huh.”
The Dwarf Village’s festival, held once every ten years.
I’m not sure if that ten years is by surface or underwater standards, but either way, the village was gearing up for the festival.
And in the middle of all this, hostile humans—including an Archmage—are camped out in front of the village?
Of course, they can’t relax and enjoy the festival.
‘Honestly, it’s half a threat.’
From the dwarves’ perspective, it’s like their festival got ruined because of some random humans.
But this was the only way I could do it.
‘If I could just play a board game with the dwarves, I’m confident we’d get along.’
This was different from the situation with Leisha’s turret. Back then, even if the spirits were hostile, I could talk to them, get close, and they even agreed to play board games.
But the dwarves? No way. Conversations are cut off, arrows fly if you get too close, and in that situation, asking them to play a board game is hopeless.
So I waited. Though I had no intention of actually ruining the festival. If the festival day came, I planned to give up and leave.
But Charlie wouldn’t know that.
In the end, it was a question of how much longer Charlie could hold out.
“……Dammit! Empire scum, answer me!”
“I’ll draw a card. It’s Diogenes’ turn.”
“Hmm, what should I do……….”
“Fine! I can’t guarantee the request, but let’s talk! It’s already been ten days!!”
Charlie’s patience lasted until the day before the festival.
As I laid out the Bang board game and leisurely played with Sally and Diogenes, a noticeably haggard Charlie shouted from the Watchtower.
“Food…”
Unlike us, who ate well and played board games, Charlie, who kept watching from the watchtower, had long reached his limit.
With an archmage who could make dozens of arrows disappear at once, there was no way he could take a break from watching. In fact, it was amazing that he had held out this long, both physically and mentally.
“By the way, is Charlie the only one doing the watching?”
Even though the village had dozens of dwarves, Charlie rarely got any relief, barely dozing off occasionally in the watchtower instead of getting proper rest.
Thanks to the lack of shifts, we managed to get Charlie to surrender, but something felt off.
Still, a surrender declaration is a surrender declaration, so Charlie approached the arrow he had shot ten days ago.
“What kind of conversation are you looking for?”
“Imperial scum, if there’s really a bell that even a grandmaster can’t break, you’ll retreat, right?”
“That’s correct.”
“Fine! I’ll make it! I’ll make it, so leave today and come back in three days!”
“It shouldn’t take three days to make a bell. Is it because the festival lasts until then?”
“…Damn it. What do you really want? The festival is really important to us. We can’t ruin it because of you.”
“I want to participate in that festival.”
“……What?”
“How about it?”
“Nonsense! It’s hard enough to hold the festival with you outside the village, and now you want to join!?”
Well, Charlie’s right, under normal circumstances.
If the dwarves’ festival were just an ordinary festival, that is.
“I know what your festival is about. It’s a showcase of new creations, a kind of exhibition.”
“………….”
“If that’s the case, I don’t even need to enter the village. Just displaying my work would be enough.”
“What are you…?”
I heard from War’s Hammer. The dwarves’ festival is very different from humans’.
No special food, no dancing, no singing.
All there is are the creations the dwarves pour their souls into.
That’s why this proposal was possible.
“Is that really all? The Empire is greedy. Surely you want more.”
“Well, if you insist, there is one more thing.”
“I knew it! You vile Imperial scoundrels…!!”
“Aren’t you bored up there?”
“……?”
“Come down and play a board game with us. There’s a 4-player game, but we can’t play it with just three of us…”
“………….”
*
“Did you get permission?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I’d make it happen somehow. Even if I can’t enter, my board game can. That’s enough.”
“…Impressive.”
The elderly dwarf once called War’s Hammer honestly marveled. It was surprising enough that he came back alive, but to actually get permission…
The village, where all the dwarves except him gathered, forbade any human from approaching. Even the occasional Imperial inspector was no exception.
After all, the Master of the Magic Tower or the royal family was entertained by War’s Hammer, and the village dwarves continued to supply weapons for food and resources, so the Empire never directly crushed the village.
Still, to get permission from Charlie, who was notoriously hostile to humans…
‘The Third Prince of the Empire.’
War’s Hammer had seen many direct royal family members in his time. Countless, in fact.
On the surface, seeing one in a lifetime was rare…
Although they were direct imperial descendants, the only ones who came this deep underwater were direct imperial descendants and the Masters of the Magic Tower, so it wasn’t particularly exciting.
However, there was a common trait among the imperial descendants I had seen.
They were all greedy.
‘Thinking about it, it’s obvious. No matter how much access they have, they must have that level of greed to come this deep underwater.’
I heard that the competition for the imperial throne was not just fierce but a life-or-death struggle. Having lived through an era of war, I knew that to survive in a competition akin to war, one had to be greedy above all else.
Whether openly greedy, hiding their nature and pretending to be humble, or walking a fine line.
I had only seen those overflowing with greed for the throne.
‘But this guy… is completely different.’
It’s not that there weren’t imperial descendants who asked for things other than weapons, armor, or artifacts. Most of them were strategic, trying to win the favor of the War’s Hammer in that way.
But no matter how much they schemed, humans who hadn’t even lived 50 years.
To the War’s Hammer, who had accumulated centuries of experience, it was just laughable. After all, it was ultimately a contract, and they didn’t genuinely want anything else. In the end, they also wanted weapons, armor, or artifacts.
But what about this guy?
Not only does he ask for something completely different, but everything he asks for is said to be tools for amusement.
An imperial descendant of the Empire, in the Dwarf Village, which one can only visit once in a lifetime, asking for such trivial things? And it’s not even a scheme to win favor. This Third Prince genuinely wanted tools for amusement.
The expression he made when I said I couldn’t make such things.
Anyone who saw his genuinely disappointed expression would know he was sincere.
‘Though he could still be deceiving me.’
The Third Prince is incompetent, unable to learn magic or Aura. Even though it’s been hundreds of years since I last wielded the hammer, the War’s Hammer, once the strongest of my race, couldn’t be fooled.
With a light use of Aura, one can detect the opponent’s heartbeat, breathing rate, and muscle tension.
Countless years of experience proved that the Third Prince was truly sincere.
‘Is it because of this that he was pushed out of the imperial throne competition? But…’
The fact that he came here without even knowing about the Dwarf Village suggests he was pushed out of the imperial throne competition. Not having even that much information means he has no allies in the Empire.
But there’s something that bothers me if I just think that way.
It’s the Archmage who came as his guard.
‘…He’s strong.’
In my nearly thousand years of life, there are only three mages who can rival that seemingly beggarly Archmage.
The Red Dragon I subdued inside a volcano.
The human Archmage whose body was half made of bricks.
And the Emperor of the Empire who came looking for me after I was trapped underwater.
If it were my prime, maybe, but now, I wouldn’t even be a match.
‘With that level of power, he must surely be among the strongest in the Empire.’
With such a mage as his guard, how could the Third Prince, the one being guarded, be pushed out of the imperial throne competition? It didn’t make sense to the War’s Hammer’s common sense.
“…Hey, Third Prince.”
“Yes? Ah… you mean me?”
“Who exactly are you?”
“Hmm.”
That’s why I couldn’t help but ask. It’s already been ten days since I came underwater. It’s the first time an imperial descendant has stayed this long.
A character who is utterly contradictory yet never loses their composure.
Who on earth is this royal? Could it be the Emperor in disguise?
The answer to that is…
“Well, he’s a Board Game Creator.”
“…What? That comes before being a Prince?”
“Doesn’t the old man call himself a Blacksmith instead of a Dwarf? There are things more important than race or status, you know.”
“…………….”
Come to think of it, from War’s Hammer’s perspective, the Prince is someone who demands trivial, almost useless things and insists they are important to him.
Is that Board Game really the most important thing to the Third Prince?
Why does such a powerful Archmage accompany him? Why do they seem so close? Did they really come all the way here just for that?
Above all…
‘Empire, are you still doing such dreadful things?’
The maid who followed the Third Prince.
At first glance, one might think she’s just a low-self-esteem but beautiful servant he keeps around.
But to War’s Hammer, who once reached the pinnacle of Aura, she looked completely different.
What they did to that heart…
Is the Empire still trying to transcend the Human race?
“That’s a terrible thing.”
“Huh?”
“…Never mind. Anyway, the festival is tomorrow. We need to make that Board Game right away.”
“Of course! Please take care of it.”
“…Huh?”
War’s Hammer, seeing the Third Prince naturally extend his hand, blinked in an uncharacteristic manner.
“Me… you mean?”
“Of course! Look at these Board Games I brought. They were made by the royal craftsmen, but what do you think, old man?”
“…Shoddy.”
“That’s why we need your help. Only a Board Game made by a Dwarf would have the minimum qualifications to be showcased at the festival.”
The Third Prince’s words made sense, and War’s Hammer was willing to help.
After all, having come this far, he wanted to see how far this human could go. He was also curious about the Board Game this utterly contradictory royal would create.
But there was one big problem left.
“So, you’re saying I have to make that Board Game, right?”
“Exactly.”
“But didn’t you see earlier? I can only make weapons, armor, and artifacts. I can’t make a Board Game.”
“…Oh? Right.”
“……………….”
For some reason, War’s Hammer couldn’t hold back the sigh that was about to escape.
