Ch.178178. Invasion: Preparations (3)

Let’s think about this logically.

Could you truly refuse a direct order from the G20 if you were in my position?

This guerrilla commander position assigned to me by the Allied Forces Headquarters carried that kind of weight, which is why I couldn’t refuse it despite feeling a deep sense of unease in my bones.

When another faction offers (whether out of goodwill or as part of some political maneuvering) to place their troops under my command, refusing would be quite burdensome.

‘….What should I do?’

And so, having reluctantly accepted this position as guerrilla commander (a nicely packaged dumping ground), I made my way to the address provided by the General Assembly Chairman, hoping my suspicions would prove wrong.

[Hey, don’t worry, Master. They wouldn’t assign something strange to a superior like you, right?]

‘That’s… right? Surely? They wouldn’t want to antagonize someone who’s essentially an unaffiliated superior, would they?’

Despite Corin’s reassurance and my continuous self-questioning to ignore the anxiety… the more I tried, the more the flower of unease bloomed in my heart.

“….This doesn’t feel right.”

‘Oh, please….’

And when Sophie added her comment, punctuating my anxiety, I found myself sinking into a level of worry I couldn’t recall experiencing before.

And then….

“Welcome. So you’re the commander of the guerrilla unit we’ll be joining?”

‘Ah.’

My worries peaked when I discovered that the personnel waiting at the closest of the three addresses I’d been given happened to be dwarf warriors.

Dwarves. On Earth, they were a race born from Norse mythology’s dwarfs, redefined by fantasy masters. True to their reputation, the dwarves of this world closely follow the established fantasy image.

Their average height is around 140cm, but those short bodies are packed with muscles far beyond human comparison, giving them abnormally high physical abilities.

Of course, their structural limitation of short legs means they can’t run very fast, but in exchange, they have insane levels of endurance and abnormally high physical durability.

Additionally, they’re mentally as solid as rocks, making them resistant to emotional manipulation from external factors. They’re also born with strong magical resistance, possessing everything a warrior should have, but….

‘….How am I supposed to handle these stubborn old-timers?!’

The mental rigidity of dwarves is on a level that doesn’t even allow comparison with human stubbornness.

They don’t just respect tradition—they practically worship it. They’re so stubborn and inflexible that they seem to have built walls against the very concept of compromise, and they insist on keeping their word once given.

Combined with their strong pride and the fact that the entire race is born with almost supernatural craftsmanship skills and the mindset of master artisans…

‘….Can I really handle this?’

The dwarf race was so overwhelming that I couldn’t help but wonder about my ability to manage them.

Anyway, I approached the dwarf commander who had come to greet me, extended my hand, and introduced myself.

“Pleased to meet you, Dwarf… Joseph Malonson. I am Gregory Aleinos, who will be leading you and your dwarf company in this war.”

Joseph, son of Malon, commander of a company of 100 dwarves. He was a mid-tier dwarf with an impressively lush beard and, in contrast, a shiny bald head.

As I stepped forward and extended my hand, he grabbed it and shook it roughly a few times, then…

“….Wait, Aleinos?”

“Yes. Dalia Aleinos is my adoptive mother.”

When he heard my name, he froze and questioned me. I watched for his reaction, following this now-familiar pattern, but… for some reason, this hearty, magnificent-bearded dwarf didn’t seem particularly frightened.

“Hahaha! So you’re the son of that person, our clan’s benefactor?”

“….What?”

And through his subsequent words, I had the novel experience of discovering that not only was he not afraid of the Aleinos name, but he was actually enthusiastically welcoming me.

According to Joseph Malonson, my mother… that is, Dalia Aleinos, had previously exterminated a Red Dragon that had appeared in the dwarf city where Joseph Malonson belonged.

Given that dragons, who love treasures second to none, have terrible relations with dwarves, and considering she killed one that had invaded their homeland, it’s no wonder she left a positive impression.

Anyway, thanks to this, I was able to establish a relatively good relationship with the dwarves from the start. Amidst this, I suddenly noticed something strange among their quarters.

If I had to describe it… it was like an armored truck with brass legs similar to those of centipedes or scorpions instead of wheels.

This steampunk-looking contraption was actually emitting steam continuously, causing its massive metal body to vibrate slightly.

Metal plates engraved with what appeared to be runes were placed throughout, enhancing its durability, and the ceiling part even had a rotating turret and a heavy mortar attached.

And seeing this masterpiece of rune-engineering, I finally understood why dwarves, who have no affinity for mobility, were drafted as members of a guerrilla unit.

“….Ah, so you move around in that! That’s impressive!”

“Indeed! It’s our pride! Yet those damned old-fashioned folks fail to recognize this innovation!”

This massive machine, seemingly created to compensate for the inevitably low mobility due to their physical structure.

While thinking that it’s understandable why such a creation would be sidelined among the extremely conservative dwarves, I smiled at him pleasantly and then… voiced a thought that suddenly occurred to me.

“By the way… your beard is really magnificent!”

“….!”

Knowing the status that beards hold among dwarves, and genuinely thinking his beard was impressive, I offered the compliment to strengthen our relationship.

What I hadn’t anticipated was the full impact that this sincere beard compliment would have on the dwarf race.

“Uh, hahahahaha─!! Indeed it is!”

“Oh, you know your stuff! Hey! Bring a barrel of beer here! No, bring all of it!”

“Uh, umm….”

Caught in this suddenly explosive atmosphere, I was momentarily dazed by the situation I clearly couldn’t escape from….

“Ah, whatever!”

“….Good luck, Gregory.”

In the end, I had no choice but to dive into the midst of those alcoholics with a determined heart.

※ ※ ※

A little later.

“Ugh, I’m dying….”

“….Dwarf beer is potent.”

After spending some time among the dwarves who were happily guzzling beer as part of social activity, I was able to escape by preparing plenty of fresh lamb and using my schedule as an excuse.

“….This isn’t just potent, it’s literally poison, isn’t it?”

“I know…. I wonder if people who aren’t mid-tier like us, or non-dwarves, might actually die from this?”

“What’s scarier is that it really seems possible….”

People often call drinks with high alcohol content and severe hangovers “poison,” but dwarf beer actually contains toxic substances to give hangovers to dwarves, who are known for their high immunity and good metabolism.

Of course, it’s beer in name only—it’s essentially a toxic substance.

Anyway, after overcoming the hangover (or rather, symptoms of poisoning) that filled my head through light mana circulation, I headed toward the second address, and….

“Lord Gregory! Lady Sophia! It’s been so long!”

“….Oh, Lady Dorthea?!”

After unexpectedly meeting a very familiar face at the second address.

At this moment, I felt endless relief discovering that those assigned to the guerrilla unit were actually devotees of the war god.

Objectively speaking, these war god worshippers are indeed insane fanatics, but from my perspective—not knowing what kind of lunatics I might have to welcome into the guerrilla unit—they were practically a godsend.

Compared to genuine madmen, fanatics who simply love war too much are relatively normal.

And to top it all off, the member of the war god’s temple we just met is none other than Lady Dorthea!

Although I developed some aversion after realizing the true nature of the war god’s temple during our voyage, it’s still difficult to ignore a friendly relationship that’s already been established for such trivial reasons.

So, thanks to the circumstances, I was overjoyed and happily welcomed Lady Dorthea, who was relatively angelic, but then….

“Hmph….”

‘Ah.’

Only when I felt the sullen gaze from beside me did I realize that my actions could be interpreted in an inappropriate way.

Of course, it was a misunderstanding.

After all, I have no interest in any woman other than Sophie.