My name is Donovan.
I’m a dwarf, though I’m a bit different from the ones you’ll find just anywhere. I belong to the Elder Dwarf race—a name that sounds a bit high-and-mighty, I suppose.
As for what sets us apart from ordinary dwarves... I couldn't really tell you. Is it simple physical strength? Lifespan? Maybe it’s just our tolerance for sake.
Sake.
Yes, it’s all about the sake. As long as there’s a drink in hand, everything else sorts itself out. Sake is everything. Sake is life. That is the dwarven way, and it is certainly my way of living.
That’s why no one laughed at me when I stepped into the Forest of Death based on nothing more than a rumor of delicious alcohol. Most likely, they just thought, "Ah, there he goes again." If there is good sake to be found, I will go find it.
That was how I ended up in the Village of the Great Tree, where I now dedicate myself to brewing. I’m not a man who only knows how to drink, mind you; I’m perfectly capable of creating the stuff myself.
The crops in this village are remarkably well-suited for brewing. Or rather, they grow varieties specifically intended for it. I’m truly grateful for that. They’ve also been quick to build any facilities I need for the process. They’ve even introduced me to new brewing methods and ways to enjoy the finished product that I’d never imagined.
Elder Dwarves who were scattered across the lands have been flocking here one after another. It seems no one can resist the temptation of a good drink, even if it means diving headfirst into the Forest of Death. But on the other side of that danger lies the finest sake imaginable. No one complains. In fact, we only feel pity for those who haven’t made it here yet. Well, that just means more for us to drink.
These past few years since I arrived have allowed me more contact with high-quality sake than at any other point in my long life. Looking at the mountains of barrels filled with the good stuff, I’ve sometimes thought I might just die of happiness right here. No, I won’t die yet. I have many more batches to brew and even more to drink.
Now, as for my current situation, I’m not so far gone that I’d ignore someone who relies on me. When the Village Head asked me to look after things while he was away, I swore in my heart that I’d scale my brewing back from ten parts to nine and dedicate myself to guarding our home.
Despite that vow, I was caught off guard when the Village Head came back barely thirty minutes later to use the bath. Then, just as I thought he’d left again, he popped back in another thirty minutes later, this time asking for help with the cooking.
It clicked then.
A banquet.
...Could I not join in? I was supposed to be house-sitting, after all. I suppose I couldn't.
...Perhaps my feelings reached him, because the Village Head decided to hold the banquet right here in the village. As expected of him. It was a grand affair. Everyone’s performances have been getting better, too. I wonder if we dwarves should come up with an act of our own? We’ll have to practice later.
Wait, was "watching the village" only supposed to last an hour?
It wasn't. The next day, the Village Head and his group set out for real. I stayed on guard for about two hours, half-expecting him to walk back through the gates at any moment, but this time they stayed away.
Alright, time to get to work. That said, there wasn't actually much to do. Everyone was focused on their own tasks, and there wasn't a soul in this village who would slack off just because the boss wasn't looking. The Vampire Progenitor and the daughter of the Angel Race Leader—the ones considered guests—had gone along with the Village Head. The members of the Lamia Race, who had been helping with the brewing, had already left for the Southern Dungeon because winter was closing in. I was finally free from looking after them.
By all rights, I should have been focusing on my own work, but... Truth be told, winter preparations and the current brewing cycle were almost finished. I considered coming up with new snacks while sampling the preserved foods, but I wanted to do something I could only accomplish while the Village Head was away.
...There wasn't much. If I asked the Village Head, he’d give me permission for almost anything. There was no need to do anything behind his back. In fact, telling him usually meant he’d arrange things and offer to help.
Hmm.
While I was pondering my options, a visitor arrived. It was the Gate Guardian Dragon. At first, he was a fellow we rarely spoke to, but now he’s blended in so well he’s practically a member of the village. He’s still a guest, though.
This was surely a reward for my diligent service. Heh. Properly hosting the Gate Guardian Dragon was the duty of the man left in charge.
"Welcome. We are honored by your visit."
It turned out two others were thinking the exact same thing: Frau, the Demon Race girl who shared the house-sitting duties, and Ya, the Mountain Elf.
Those meddling lasses.
"Will you not yield this honor to me?" I asked.
"Providing hospitality is a woman's job," Frau countered.
"If that’s the case, then I’m just as qualified," Ya added.
While the three of us were busy with our petty bickering, the Gate Guardian Dragon was already being entertained by Master Zabuton.
Blast. I’d let my guard down because Master Zabuton is usually less active this time of year. She’s a far more formidable opponent than the girls standing in front of me.
By the time we escorted the Gate Guardian Dragon to the usual inn, the High Ogre maids—heaven knows when they’d received the orders—already had food waiting. Nearby, the elves and the beastman girls were already preparing a performance.
It was perfect. Utterly perfect.
Grrr... Master Zabuton. I’d normally be willing to admit defeat, but then I saw it.
That barrel! That’s my private reserve! I hid that from everyone, even the Village Head! How did she find it!?
Wait, wait a minute! Surely you don't mean to give that to the Gate Guardian Dragon!? What a waste!
Listen, Master Zabuton, what if we split it amicably between the two of us? I’ll apologize for hiding it. I’ll apologize, so please!
I can’t actually speak to Master Zabuton, of course. But there is a bond of trust between us built over time. Reach her, my feelings!
...It didn't work. Come to think of it, I don't actually spend that much time with her.
Fine. If that’s how it is...
"Move it, lasses."
"Eh?"
"What are you doing?"
"We’re going in to help welcome the Gate Guardian Dragon!"
As the ones left in charge, Master Zabuton was technically the one hosting the guest. I’m man enough to admit that. I won’t try to steal her credit. But please, just let me join in before my secret stash is drained dry!
I am a man with absolutely no pride when it comes to sake. That is who I am—Donovan, the Elder Dwarf.
High Elf and Beastman Girl
"Draim-san looks strangely stiff... Is it just me?"
"Maybe it's because Master Zabuton is the one looking after him?"
"Hahaha, no way. Oh, look, he’s wearing a new outfit she made for him."
"Lucky. I want a new one too."
Draim’s Internal Scream (Social Anxiety Peak)
"Village Head... where are you? Daughter... where? Someone help me..."
Kuro’s Offspring
"The safety of the village has been entrusted to us. Everyone, stay vigilant."
"Understood!"