I Became the Martial God's Youngest Disciple

The next day.

"Let me tell you in advance. If you came here intending to get a dwarven weapon, you'd better give up now." Konjian said this abruptly while we were having breakfast.

Ludwig tilted his head slightly at the firm tone.

Sandstorm Hill was well known among the dwarf villages in the south, though he insisted it not be called a village. As a result, many organizations interacted with this place. It wasn't limited to mercenaries. The Hero Society's heroes from across the empire, members of the imperial family, and even mages from the magic towers would occasionally visit.

Naturally, the proud dwarves received them as customers. For all their arrogance, they still had to sell their works to make a living.

Ludwig had introduced himself as a merchant. Even if they didn't recognize the name of the Romance Trading Company, Konjian's attitude toward Abel, who appeared wealthy, was unusual.

"Why?"

At Delac's question, Ludwig realized the simplest approach. He should have asked directly instead of overthinking. This was a bad habit he had developed from years of disguising himself and infiltrating other organizations.

"This isn't something I can tell outsiders," Konjian replied bluntly.

His resolute tone left them uneasy. In fact, Ludwig knew that this was actually a relatively polite refusal for a dwarf craftsman.

Ludwig sighed. "It is a pity."

Of course, there was nothing to regret. In the first place, they hadn't stopped here to acquire equipment.

As the meal neared its end, Ludwig asked casually, "By the way, have any other outsiders stopped by recently?"

"Outsiders often come and go. Most leave without getting what they want," Konjian replied.

"I see. I believe an acquaintance may have come through here. She could still be around," Ludwig remarked.

"Is that so? As far as I know, no outsiders are staying here these days except for you. Frankly, I doubt you will be able to stay long either," Konjian claimed. "Tell me first. Who is it that you are looking for?"

"A human woman. Her name..." Ludwig gave the name and briefly described Seren Goodspring's appearance, based on what he had heard from Luan.

Konjian listened, then muttered, "I don't recall seeing anyone like that."

"Okay."

"I will guide you to the master so you can ask him. He is the only one who remembers outsiders well," Konjian said.

By master, he probably meant the guildmaster. The title sounded grand, but it was no different from a village chief.

Dwarf villages weren't formed to share food and shelter. Rather, they existed as associations to improve their craft. In that sense, guild was more accurate than village. Among the dwarves, this place was known as the Sandstorm Guild.

We can only stay for one day.At this rate, we won't get anything before they throw us out.

The village wasn't large, but its closed and uncooperative nature would make gathering information difficult. Ludwig suspected that, in an environment like this, there was a high probability that Seren had been driven out before she could stay long.

Given the dwarves' lack of interest in anything beyond their craft, it was unlikely they would remember an outsider who visited several months ago.

Everything depends on the guildmaster's memory. Ludwig nodded. "Where is the master?"

***

Following Konjian's lead, we headed to the guildmaster's residence.

On the way there, I kept a few steps back and listened to their conversation.

"By the way, how is the master chosen here? Is it based on skills?" Ludwig asked.

"That's right," Konjian replied. "Every ten years, whoever presents the most outstanding work at the Vulcanus Festival earns the title."

"So the position changes once every ten years?" Ludwig pressed.

"That's right. However, the master you are about to meet now... Visid Ranier has held the master's position for forty years straight."

"That means..." Ludwig began.

Konjian nodded. "That's right. For nearly half a century, the best craftsman of Sandstorm Hill has been Visid."

The house of such a man wasn't any larger than the others, nor did stand in a particularly notable location. Its shape, however, was unusual.

It resembles an upside-down hammer, I thought.

Konjian strode to the door set into what looked like the hammer's head and knocked heavily. "Visid! Master! Guests have arrived! Can't you hear me? Visid!"

Why is he shouting so loudly? I was puzzled at first, but the reason became clear soon enough. Visid didn't appear, even after repeated knocks.

How many minutes has Konjian spent knocking? The master could be away from home.

As that thought formed, the door swung open, and a small dwarf appeared.

"Dammit! Konjian! Didn't I tell you not to interrupt me for at least a week once I start working?" he snapped.

Konjian already had a volatile temper, but this dwarf was even more so. His face was as red as a ripe fruit, and his beard was long enough to almost cover his entire body.

I had heard that a dwarf's age or status could be judged by the length or style of their beard, which made it clear this was no ordinary craftsman.

Unexpectedly, Konjian wasn't intimidated at all. "You told me that two weeks ago. We have guests."

"Guests?" Visid, the master of Sandstorm Hill, looked at us with heavy-lidded eyes. "I'm not taking any new commissions."

"I know," Ludwig said.

"I don't have any equipment to sell either. I've already sold everything worth selling," Visid added.

"Really? That's not why we're here," Ludwig said.

"Then what is it?"

"I'm looking for an outsider who visited here a few months ago," Ludwig replied, then described Seren's appearance.

"Ah, I remember. Someone like that did come," Visid said bluntly.

"Do you know what happened to her?" Ludwig asked.

"Let me think... I believe she asked me to make something. Our situation wasn't good even then, so I refused. After that, I don't know whether she left or what became of her. Do you know her?"

"Yes."

"That's unfortunate. I have nothing more to tell you. Is that all?" Visid asked.

If so, he intended to send us away at once.

"Um..." As Ludwig trailed off, his voice suddenly echoed in my mind.

—What should we do?

Was it a sound transmission? It felt different. It didn't seem like magic, so it was probably a blessing Ludwig possessed. It had to be very useful for someone who needed to move secretly.

I replied through sound transmission, "He is lying."

—Lying?

"Seren didn't come here to commission anything. She came here to have something repaired."

—Really? But there isn't much of a difference between making and repairing something. It was quite some time ago, so he could be confused.

"I don't think so. The item Seren wants to repair is unusual."

—What is it?

"I don't know the details either, but it is the kind of item that would drive any dwarf craftsman crazy."

—Understood.

At last, Ludwig seemed convinced and continued the conversation. "Then why can't you take on any production commissions?"

"I can't disclose that to outsiders," Visid answered curtly.

"I understand your situation, but aren't we still guests? We even rescued a craftsman of this village..."

"Rescued?" Visid's gaze shifted to Konjian.

Konjian avoided his gaze while replying, "They saved me from a sandworm attack."

"You were attacked by sandworms? Didn't you hire a mercenary group?"

"I did, but their skills weren't good..."

"What nonsense," Visid snapped. "You probably hired some losers to save a few coins. Dammit. Didn't I tell you that someone would definitely die if you did that?"

Konjian's face reddened at the criticism, but he couldn't say anything. He just pressed his lips together.

Visid glared at him with a dissatisfied expression, then sighed. "It isn't difficult for me to explain the circumstances, but you mustn't spread this matter widely."

Ludwig nodded. "Of course."

"The god who watches over dwarves is currently angry," Visid revealed.

Ludwig blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected statement. "What does that mean?"

"Do you know Vulcanus?" Visid asked.

Ludwig replied bluntly, "I've heard of him. The god of flames, inventions, and blacksmiths. The Fire Dragon God, Vulcanus."

"You are quite knowledgeable." Visid sounded somewhat surprised. "I thought humans weren't interested in anything beyond the Seventy-Two Gods."

This made sense.

Even among the gods worshipped across the empire, the Seventy-Two Gods and the Five Kings held primary importance. The southern region, however, retained strong local traditions and gave greater prominence to the myths of other gods than most areas. Perhaps this stemmed from its history as a land once inhabited by dragons, as the Thirteen Dragon Kings were especially well known. In this respect, it resembled the Eastern Grasslands, where the Nine Spirit Gods held an unusually strong influence.

"For generations, we have dedicated exceptional equipment to him. In return, he bestows upon us the Breath of Vulcanus," Visid stated.

"Breath of Vulcanus?" Ludwig repeated.

Visid explained, "It's a flame capable of forging any metal, the invisible treasure of the dwarves. But for some time now, we haven't been able to receive his breath. I don't know the exact reason. I just know that he is angry..."

Silence prevailed.

"Maybe... God has abandoned us," Visid speculated hesitantly.

After hearing the story, I knew this wasn't a situation outsiders could intervene in. Still, I narrowed my eyes.

Was there such an incident with Sandstorm Hill? Nothing came to mind, which was odd. I had arrived in the south a few years later, yet even then, the weapons produced from Sandstorm Hill remained in high demand. High demand suggested the supply had been steady.

Is this also a butterfly effect? Is it something that will resolve on its own if left alone? Or are those church bastards involved as well? The last possibility seemed least likely, but it only made me more suspicious.

Ludwig asked, "Is there a place to worship the god?"

"Of course. There is a temple." Visid sighed with an even more troubled expression. "However, we can't go there anymore."

"Did the temple collapse?"

Visid shook his head. "Not exactly. To be precise, it's inaccessible. As I said, Vulcanus is angry. His wrath now envelops the entire Vulcanus Temple."

What does this mean?

Visid elaborated, "Heat surrounds the temple grounds. It's so intense that it can melt even the hardest metal."

Heat... I paused for a moment, then sent a sound transmission to Ludwig. "We need to check the temple."

—Will you be okay? That heat doesn't sound like a joke.

"I can manage. Just make sure I can get inside."

—I got it.

Ludwig asked, "By the way, where is the temple located?"

Visid was astonished. "Do you seriously intend to go there? Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"I heard and understood perfectly." Ludwig turned to me. "Do you see the lizardman behind me?"

Visid finally shifted his gaze to me.

"He has a very strong tolerance for heat. He can walk through the scorching area and enter the temple itself," Ludwig said smugly.

Visid scoffed. "How amusing. Do you know what happened a month ago? A dwarf wearing armor made from a desert ant went to the temple. He bragged that he could withstand the flames of hundreds of degrees, but he couldn't even get close before giving up. That fool suffered full-body burns and is still lying in a hospital bed, hovering between life and death. You want to go to such a place unarmed?"

Ludwig chuckled. "Why make such a big deal out of it? Even if he fails, it's just one lesser race dying."

Visid hesitated. "That..."

"I am a merchant. I didn't come here specifically to do business, but I won't turn down the opportunity to make a profit. So let's talk business," Ludwig said.

"Business?" Visid echoed.

"If we manage to resolve Vulcanus' wrath, give us the three most outstanding items here," Ludwig suggested.

"Three?"

"I don't think it's an unreasonable request," Ludwig claimed.

Of course, this was likely an excessive demand. Dwarven weapons and armor practically sold themselves, and the Sandstorm Hill name drove prices even higher.

Depending on the circumstances, the three finest items from a craftsman village like this could be worth enough to buy a castle or something. I didn't know the exact market value, but the estimate seemed plausible.

"You aren't even asking for the opinion of the one involved," Konjian interjected, his tone turning sharp. "No matter the race, this lizardman isn't a slave. He is a mercenary. At the very least, he has that right. If he doesn't agree, no one can force him."

I glanced at Konjian, surprised. His temperament did not match that of a dwarf from the south.

Visid likely found the argument reasonable because he shifted his gaze to me as well.

I met his eyes steadily and said, "I accept."

"What?" Konjian stared at me in disbelief, "Listen, didn't you hear what the master just said? I don't know how heat-resistant your scales are, but I doubt they can withstand more than a desert ant."

I shook my head. "I'm confident. Besides, won't you face serious trouble if the Breath of Vulcanus remains unusable?"

"Is that the problem right now?" Konjian argued.

"That's right," I replied. "I have to repay the favor."

"Favor?" Konjian repeated.

I smiled as I studied Konjian's bewildered expression. I was imitating the smile Araxad sometimes wore, and to me, it carried a certain charm.

"The meal you treated me to yesterday was that excellent."

A lizardman warrior risking his life just to repay a single meal... This is a man's idea of romance.

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