Ch.176Chapter 176

The dwarves had many thoughts as they were carried up to the surface, wrapped in tree roots.

It had seemed good to accept an irresistible offer, but as time passed, reason gradually began to return.

The large dwarf, Bolba, scratched his bushy beard and asked Trom, “Is this really okay?”

“This bastard… You fool, if you were worried about that, you should have thought about it earlier!”

“Ahem, honestly, how could I resist when someone offers me a tree the same size as my body?”

When Trom, who had tried to maintain his reason until the end, scolded him, Bolba avoided his gaze and made excuses.

The other dwarves didn’t speak up, but they agreed with Bolba’s excuse.

Even if one worked as an explorer for 100 years, they couldn’t guarantee getting their hands on that much wood, so how could anyone refuse when it was offered just for meeting someone?

Though Bolba was unusually dim-witted even among dwarves, being dim-witted didn’t always mean being foolish.

To be fair, Trom himself had accepted the offer with the same logic as Bolba, so he had nothing to say.

Regardless of intelligence, people tend to become similar when swept up in desire.

“… It’s in the past now, so don’t worry about it. Now is the time to think about how to deal with the owner of the tree.”

Unable to come up with a suitable rebuttal, Trom tapped the roots wrapped around his body as he spoke.

Controlling rats was unsettling enough, but he had never heard of trees moving on their own. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how remarkable such a being might be.

“The clan’s rune craftsmen… Perhaps this being is even more impressive than them.”

“You’re right, Elder. It’s not like a children’s fairy tale—someone who gives away trees must certainly be an extraordinary being.”

“Even children’s fairy tales don’t have such generous stories. Unless it’s about feeding hard-earned wood chips to a child before the fire goes out.”

“That’s an ominous example… Doesn’t that story end with the child dying because the dwarf who took the wood chips returned home too late?”

“What? Was that how it ended?”

As trivial conversations went back and forth, the dwarves discussed how to respond to the tree’s owner.

The more impatient dwarves suggested they should act confidently since they hadn’t done anything wrong…

“Not knowing there was an owner doesn’t make it any less theft. Besides, we attacked as soon as the rats revealed themselves.”

“But…”

“Denying it will only deepen the grudge. Besides, considering they’re willing to give us wood just for meeting them, they might have a generous personality.”

Trom shook his head, denying that claim.

Some people might take advantage of generous individuals, but with age comes the realization of how foolish such judgment is.

Those who can be generous to strangers they’ve never met are those who have the power to crack heads if someone misbehaves.

Mercy has always been a privilege only the strong can afford.

“I understand your frustration, but we can’t spit out the wood chips we’ve already eaten. Besides…”

Trom quickly looked over the dwarves and continued.

“You all suspect it too, don’t you? That this tree is no ordinary tree.”

Isn’t it normal to show respect when you’ve eaten such a tree without permission?

Though he didn’t speak the last part aloud, the dwarves nodded, showing respect for his judgment. Seeing that they seemed to understand, Trom warned them.

“Never, ever act recklessly. Open your mouth only with permission, and when answering questions, respond carefully as if your neck depends on it.”

* * *

People often make promises to themselves before important events to ease their tension.

Not to behave rudely to others, to answer clearly and respectfully, to avoid causing trouble and conclude matters properly…

These are the common courtesies that should be observed.

Ironically, they often aren’t followed in practice.

“E-everything around us is made of wood?”

“With that height, it must be difficult to move… And why doesn’t he have a beard?”

Dragged to the vast meeting room in the World Tree’s temple, the dwarves muttered while looking at Dario and the elves seated on the opposite side of the large round table.

It might seem strange that they were voicing their thoughts aloud, but when people encounter something difficult to understand, they want others to sympathize with them.

At least the dwarves had enough sense to lower their voices and whisper among themselves…

The problem was that elves’ long ears weren’t just for decoration.

Since the other side started whispering first, why should they hold back?

The elves were whispering about the dwarves as well.

“They really are short. With all those wrinkles… Are they all elders of their race?”

“Their muscles are impressive, but it must be difficult to move with that body shape.”

“For hygiene’s sake, they should really shave those beards.”

“Ahem!”

As the whispering from both sides grew louder, Dario cleared his throat loudly to mediate.

At first, both sides had tried not to be heard, but he could see that as their voices grew louder, emotions were starting to run high.

What was the point of summoning these dwarves if it was just to declare war or build hostility?

Fortunately, the elves acknowledged they had gotten carried away and closed their mouths. The dwarves also remembered their earlier conversation and fell silent with awkward coughs.

“I apologize. I… I’m not sure what to call you. We didn’t know there was such a place at the top of the ceiling.”

Remembering the purpose of this meeting, Trom carefully addressed Dario, thinking the elves had fallen silent because they were deferring to him.

Dario quickly noticed Trom’s misunderstanding.

“You should apologize to this person, not to me.”

“Huh?”

When Dario pointed his finger into the air, Trom blinked and followed the direction of Dario’s finger.

There was nothing there…?

“Gah?!”

What Dario had pointed to wasn’t empty space but the Wendigo, who had been quietly observing the situation.

Startled as if facing a monster emerging from settling dust, Trom forgot his composure and backed away in shock.

Though his body had aged, he had prided himself on his sharp senses, yet Trom couldn’t believe he hadn’t detected any presence.

How could he not notice such a huge monster—easily twice the size of those slender beings—right in front of him?

Only now realizing the Wendigo’s presence, the dwarves gasped and reached for their tools.

“Please calm down! I understand your fear, but this person is the king who rules this land. He is so generous that people call him the King of Mercy.”

“Uh…”

The dwarves wore bewildered expressions, unable to connect the word “mercy” with the Wendigo’s appearance, which didn’t match it at all.

Dario’s expression was too serious to think he was joking or lying, which made it all the more confusing.

And the Wendigo, who had just learned about this embarrassingly awkward nickname he didn’t know he had, was also confused.

“… When I return, I should issue a decree forbidding people from using such strange nicknames.”

The Wendigo shook his head while covering his face, which couldn’t possibly be blushing.

If he was a king, why not just call him king? Why add such words?

The World Tree, sitting beside the Wendigo and thus also unnoticed until now, tilted its head and asked the Wendigo:

“I don’t quite understand… but I know that among humans and elves, nicknames with good meanings are signs of reverence. Isn’t this a good thing for you?”

“It’s maddening.”

It wasn’t wrong, but it was still uncomfortable to hear. There were plenty of normal titles, so why use something like that?

As the Wendigo bickered with the World Tree, Trom racked his brain to make sense of the situation.

The monster—no, the king—before him didn’t seem arrogant despite his appearance. It wasn’t common for a title like “mercy” to be given by others rather than claimed by oneself.

‘The kings of our clans would boast about their nicknames even if they had to make them up themselves.’

This was fortunate from his perspective. Arrogant rulers often valued their authority over promises and treated others’ lives lightly.

Trom quickly bowed at the waist and begged the Wendigo for forgiveness.

“To not recognize a king right before my eyes… This old man’s eyes have grown dim and I’ve committed a grave offense. If you wish, I will cut my beard to beg forgiveness.”

With a solemn expression, Trom drew the dagger from his waist and placed it against his beard. As a few precious strands of beard were cut by the blade, sighs erupted from around him.

How could one carelessly cut the beard given by one’s parents!

However, one of the elves, not understanding Trom’s action, muttered:

“… Why is he making such a fuss over mere beard hair?”

“What did you say!?”

At this comment that mocked the most honorable atonement a dwarf could make—even insulting the beard received from parents—the dwarves flared up and slammed their hands on the round table.

As the dwarves reacted violently to the careless remark, Messina gave the elf who had spoken a cold stare.

“It is not polite to carelessly voice your thoughts. And if you have no intention of respecting other races’ cultures, return to Elvenheim. You don’t belong in this land.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

At Messina’s rebuke, the elf hurriedly bowed his head and apologized to her…

“Surely you don’t think apologizing to Messina is enough?”

“Pardon?”

The Wendigo looked at the elf and asked. The elf, not understanding the situation, looked at the Wendigo with a puzzled expression.

Elhemina sighed and explained the meaning of the Wendigo’s words.

“Whether you intended it or not, your words were insulting to them. Your apology should be directed at them, not us.”

“Ah!”

Only then did the elf bow to the dwarves and apologize. When the other party apologized so readily, the dwarves looked at Trom.

“Just as we don’t know your culture, it’s natural that you don’t know ours. Know that we dwarves value our beards as much as our lives.”

“That’s right. And speaking of which…”

“?”

When the Wendigo nodded and let his words trail off, the dwarves looked at him with puzzled expressions.

The Wendigo tapped his silk-covered knee with his finger and said to Trom:

“The tree you ate is very precious to these elves. That careless remark just now wasn’t unrelated to that fact.”

Flinch.

Having just received an apology for a mistake made out of ignorance, they couldn’t very well say they had done the same.

Realizing he had been caught off guard, Trom tensed up and waited for the Wendigo’s next words.

The good news was that the Wendigo hadn’t brought this up to punish the dwarves.

The World Tree just wanted its roots left undisturbed, not fertile compost to help the torn roots grow back.

“However, since this happened in a situation cut off from the surface, punishment seems excessive. So I’d like you to fulfill a simple request instead of punishment.”

“When you say request…”

Trom knew that a request from a high-ranking person was no different from an order. As he waited tensely for the words, the Wendigo spoke as if it were nothing significant.

“Don’t disturb the tree you found… that is, the World Tree’s roots, and keep it a secret. It would be best if you buried it with soil.”

The World Tree, listening to the Wendigo’s proposal, nodded in agreement. As long as the roots weren’t damaged, it didn’t mind overlooking this small disturbance.

With the World Tree supporting the Wendigo, the elves had nothing to say. Dario was the Wendigo’s subject from the beginning.

Since it wasn’t a difficult request, the dwarves would gladly accept…

“I-I’m sorry, Your Majesty. Despite your generous words, we cannot fulfill your request.”

Trom, sweating profusely, rejected the Wendigo’s request.

At that moment, a thick killing intent swept through the meeting room, and the elves placed their hands on their weapons, glaring at the dwarves.

The Wendigo, who had thought there was no way they would refuse the offer, asked Trom in astonishment:

“Have you been blinded by greed? Unless you’re insane, there’s no reason to refuse in this situation.”

“A-absolutely not because of greed! The thing is, we want to keep the secret but we can’t. I can explain everything, so please hear me out!”

He wasn’t a fool who didn’t value his life—how could it possibly be out of greed!

Trom, with a truly wronged expression, begged the Wendigo for a chance to explain. He would rather die after stating his reasons than die like this—it was too unfair.

If he died because of words spoken to keep faith with others, he wouldn’t be able to rest peacefully even in death.