My name was Fuano.
I was the leader of a company of two hundred dwarves.
That said, I had only taken the mantle about ten years ago, so my leadership was still very much being put to the test. Until recently, I had been able to focus on forging to my heart's content, but ever since I became the leader, it had been nothing but one headache after another. I finally understood why my predecessor always looked so perpetually grumpy.
It was in the midst of this that I received word that a group of our more hot-headed youngsters had caused trouble in a certain village and been thrown into jail. The ones who brought the news were elves living in a nearby forest. It was strange—why would those vicious elves who normally hated our kind bother to give us information?
Still, I was grateful for the lead. It seemed that if I went to collect them personally, the village would release the imprisoned dwarves. To be honest, those boys had been a constant source of grief for me as well. A part of me wanted to leave them rotting in that cell, but the village they had offended was none other than Village Five.
I had heard rumors that although it was a new settlement, it was a place where the heavy hitters of the Demon Kingdom gathered. Ignoring the situation wasn't an option. As their leader, I had to go and offer a formal apology for the trouble they had caused.
I thanked the elves for the information and began my travel preparations.
...Eh? They wanted a signature to prove they had delivered the message? Was that really necessary? Well, I didn't mind signing, but they certainly seemed insistent about it.
I set out for Village Five with a few of my more level-headed subordinates. Bringing the rowdy ones would have only invited further conflict. Before departing, I did some digging and found out that the goal of the jailed group had been the armaments being sold in Village Five—specifically, the Magic Iron Powder used in their construction. Knowing that lot, they probably demanded the smiths hand it over for free.
Good grief. That kind of behavior only worked within dwarven society, and even then, only barely. It certainly didn't fly anywhere else. In the outside world, you were supposed to politely ask for permission to use Magic Iron Powder. They refused to understand that, which was exactly why they weren't even considered candidates for leadership roles.
When we finally arrived at Village Five, my jaw hit the floor. I had heard it was a large village, but this wasn't a village at all. It was a sprawling metropolis—a city of massive proportions! Those absolute morons. They had actually picked a fight with a place like this?
My stomach began to ache with stress.
Fortunately, the representative of Village Five—the Acting Village Head—was a very reasonable woman. She accepted my apology without any fuss, which was a huge relief. At this rate, they probably wouldn't execute the dwarves in jail without cause. In that case, I didn't feel the need to push for their immediate release. I wanted them to be punished according to the local laws; it would be good medicine for them. Once they finished their sentence, they could work off their debt to the village as further apology.
Oh, that reminded me. I presented an Axe to the Acting Village Head.
"This is a magnificent piece of work," she remarked.
Since I was the one who forged it, her praise made me quite proud. I told her that I wanted her to show the weapon to the person who forged their Magic Iron Powder equipment. I was certain that once they saw my skill, they would understand my request.
We settled in to wait for a response at an inn on the south side. I can't recall the name exactly—there were so many inns with similar names that it was confusing. Acting Village Head, you might want to do something about that.
Somehow, it turned into a Smithing Match.
Wait, why? Where did I go wrong?
I thought that by showing that Axe to the village’s blacksmiths, they would recognize me as a peer. I wanted to prove that I was a smith who had mastered the techniques of one of the finest dwarven guilds in the Demon Kingdom, and thus, I was more than qualified to handle Magic Iron Powder. Had they interpreted it as a challenge? Was this a trial to test my worth? I couldn't back down now.
But when I saw my opponent, I nearly did a double-take.
...Gatto? The son of the Howlin Village Chief?
Wait, was Gatto really the blacksmith for this village?
This was bad. I had made a massive blunder. My own techniques were derived from those of Howlin Village; I had even spent several years training there. By showing a Howlin-style Axe to a Howlin smith, I had essentially issued a direct provocation!
Gatto was glaring at me. No, you've got it all wrong. It's really not like that.
"Hey, dwarf," Gatto said, his voice low. "Once we win this, I don't want to hear another word about our skills being 'insufficient.'"
I noticed a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth even as he glared. Did he actually remember me? When we first met, he was just a kid who wasn't even allowed inside the forge yet.
Nostalgia aside, I could feel the eyes of my fellow dwarves on my back. I was their leader. Since I had been challenged—even if it was a misunderstanding—I had to step up.
"I’ll show you a weapon that'll make that Beastman's work look like a toy!" I declared.
I hadn't spent the last few years idling, either. It was time to show them what a master blacksmith could do.
The Smithing Match was a grueling week-long affair. To make matters worse, Village Five decided to hold a festival at the same time. The cheerful music and the intoxicating scents of food wafted over to us constantly. They provided us with meals and sake, but they weren't the ones I was smelling. There had to be even better food out there. And the sake... especially the sake.
No, I had to focus. I was going to forge the greatest Kennata of my life!
Still, those aromas were distracting. I wondered if we could take turns sneaking out to the stalls. If I had known it would be like this, I would have brought a larger crew.
On the third day, the Acting Village Head took pity on us and prepared some of the festival food and drink. We ate in shifts. There was Curry, Pizza, Udon, and something called Kushikatsu. Every bit of it was delicious, but I took a particular liking to the Kushikatsu. It was fun trying to guess which skewer was chicken and which was vegetable.
And the sake... I was stunned. I had never tasted anything so good. There were so many varieties, but the one that truly stood out was the beer. It was the perfect companion for Kushikatsu. It paired so well that I suspected the beer had been invented specifically for the sake of those fried skewers.
I had to be careful. I was dangerously close to forgetting about the smithing and diving headfirst into the party. The real celebration would have to wait until the match was over.
On the final day, I nearly fainted from shock. Master Donovan of the Elder Dwarves—a legendary figure even our own Dwarf King treated with the utmost deference—had come to watch the judging.
Wait, he wasn't here for the alcohol? Oh, I see... Master Donovan was the one who brewed the alcohol for this village. It all made sense now. I was just glad the match was over; I would have been far too nervous to forge anything with Master Donovan watching me.
The judging process was straightforward. The judges took each Kennata and tested them against thin wooden poles, claiming that the quality would be obvious once the blade was in hand.
My work was solid. Gatto's Kennata was also impressive. Even the piece made by the troublemakers in jail was irritatingly well-crafted; those boys were pests, but they certainly had talent.
The entry from the "Village Five Team" was also excellent. They had used a design that was currently trending among adventurers, with a blade slightly curved in the middle to make it suitable for throwing. It was quite educational.
However, something had been bothering me for a while. Why were the judges all elves? And they didn't look like ordinary elves, either. If my memory didn't fail me, those two were the Tree King of the Forest of Gone and the Bow King of the Forest of Garetsu. Or were they just look-alikes? And wasn't there a High Elf in the mix too? I must have been seeing things.
In the end, the Village Five Team was declared the winner. The boys from the jail cell started shouting about favoritism, but I accepted the result. I had focused too much on the aesthetic beauty of my Kennata. In contrast, the Village Five Team had prioritized practicality, drawing on their experience of fulfilling actual orders for adventurers.
As for Gatto... his loss was likely a side effect of being too accustomed to Magic Iron Powder. The materials provided for this match were top-grade, but they didn't include Magic Iron Powder. He had to compete without it, and since the forging techniques and fire temperatures differed significantly depending on whether the powder was used, he probably couldn't fully demonstrate his true skill while trying to adjust on the fly. If the match had lasted another week, Gatto surely would have won.
I was frustrated to lose, but the outcome was fair. Now, I just had to apologize to Gatto and clear up the misunderstanding about the Axe.
But as I approached, I saw some very familiar faces surrounding him.
Let’s see... from the right, there was the Vampire Princess, an Annihilation Angel, and a Massacre Angel...
"Were you the one who provoked Gatto?" one of them asked.
"Oh, Lu-san. Do you know Master Fuano?"
"Yes, I've hired him to sharpen my favorite short sword several times."
I remembered her well. She was an unreasonable client who would wake me up in the middle of the night demanding that I sharpen her blade immediately.
"That sword was eventually broken by you, though," Lu remarked.
"Ah, the one that tried to take off my right arm?"
"That's the one."
"It certainly was sharp."
"A crying shame. And you know him too, Tier?"
"Yes. We've commissioned him for parts of the Angel Race's armaments."
My group had been working for them since the time of the previous leader. Their deadlines were brutally strict, and they were obsessed with intricate details that made the work a nightmare. Why did they want engravings on the inside of the armor where no one would see them? It was just pointless vanity. It only reduced the durability and left embossed bruises on the wearer's skin if they took a hit. Well, they wore padding underneath, so I suppose that wasn't an issue, but still.
One thing was clear: this village was far more dangerous than I had imagined.
Conclusion: I should stay as far away from this place as possible. I still wanted to work with Magic Iron Powder, but my survival was more important.
"Ah, Acting Village Head. Thank you for everything..."
"Master Fuano, one can never have too many skilled blacksmiths," she said with a smile.
"I appreciate the sentiment, but we were planning to leave as early as tomorrow..."
"Is that so? Even if I put those dwarves in the jail under your direct command? I'm sure they wouldn't dare disobey you now. And besides, we're about to start a banquet. I believe Master Donovan has several other varieties of sake he wants people to try..."
Oh.
The next day, my entire company of dwarves was officially signed on to do smithing work for Village Five.
I won't say why. It was the alcohol’s fault. It was the Kushikatsu’s fault. And those new dishes they brought out at the banquet were just too good.
...I hope our future here is a bright one.
I’m sorry, but I’ll be taking tomorrow off.