Ch.308Epilogue – Something That Would Never Happen If Kaiser Were Here

# Hermann still longed for the German Empire. The Weimar Republic was made up of reactionaries who had pushed the Kaiser from his throne, and seeing that the new Germany had no intention of restoring the monarchy, it too was reactionary.

By rights, Germany should have a king of the German people. Wotan should be a god, not a God-President. Those fools who obtained only divinity and then ran wild were utterly detestable. They didn’t understand the basics.

Hermann picked up a newspaper. It was a difficult task for an old dwarf with his beard braided in eight plaits. Still, he needed to see what had become of the incident a few days ago when a goblin child in Paris had shot a German ambassador.

As he began to bend over with a groan, his daughter rushed out from inside the house, picked up the newspaper, and held it out to Hermann. He snatched it away gruffly. He spat out his words as if chewing and swallowing them.

“I have enough money to hire a newspaper boy. I could give a nine-year-old kid a few marks to stop by on his way to school and deliver the newspaper. But all I have in my house is a daughter who’s over thirty and won’t even think about finding a successor, just staying cooped up at home! Damn it, Wotan is being too harsh.”

He was a 19th-century man. He believed that a dwarf should aspire to run a forge, and indeed, he operated the largest forge in his neighborhood.

The forge was as much a cultural place as it was practical. Dwarves were a race born with creativity and diligence, and the simplest way to express that creativity was to melt metal and create objects.

Dwarves were a race not tempted by aesthetics. To a dwarf, beauty was practicality. The term “dwarf artist” was not much different from “dwarf blacksmith.”

In that sense, Hermann had one great advantage as both a dwarf artist and a blacksmith. He had large hands. They were nearly one and a half times larger than those of an ordinary dwarf.

Those hands were his pride. The tools made by those hands always had the highest practicality, and he should have had a fine son born or received an excellent dwarf as a son-in-law to carry on that pride.

But his only beloved child was a daughter, and that child, far from bringing home a good son-in-law, was saying nonsensical things. Hermann’s daughter cried out again as if frustrated. She raised her hands.

Her hands were as large as Hermann’s. It should have been a source of pride, but Hermann already knew his daughter would only spout disappointing words. And indeed she did.

“I inherited your hands, Father! I too…”

“Then all you need to do is find a dwarf with hands as large as yours! A daughter taking over the forge? If the Kaiser were here, such a thing would never even be spoken of!”

It was what Hermann always said. He was a royalist to the bone, a subject of the German Empire to the bone, and a man living in the past to the bone. The moment he said those words, he could feel the stress fracture in their relationship.

Until now, his daughter had listened to these words, but this time she couldn’t. She pushed Hermann aside and ran straight out the door. Hermann staggered. Young dwarves are quite strong.

Outside the house was the tide of an era Hermann had tried to ignore. Quite a few goblins lived in Germany. Goblins were also Germans and subjects of the Kaiser.

But now people were shouting that goblins could not be Germans. The world was shouting it. Hermann sometimes worried that he might be the only one not shouting such slogans.

The anxiety didn’t last long. There was no need to worry about not becoming like those people. There was absolutely no reason to become like those who worshipped someone as king who had no kingly qualities.

If goblins could no longer be subjects, it was entirely the king’s fault. It was stupid and irresponsible to declare that he would lead only certain subjects because he couldn’t handle all his people!

In Hermann’s view, this was why the current era was ruined. These so-called leaders wanted the authority of kings while scattering the responsibilities of kings among the people.

This is why the Kaiser needs to return. Hermann decided, cowardly or perhaps naturally, to double his hatred for the dwarves who went around shouting slogans, in order to turn off his concern for his daughter who had run away.

His daughter had already disappeared into the crowd. She was a daughter who wasn’t much help anyway. Hermann shook his head about her and then used all his strength to close the door. He would never open it for her again.

Hermann sat down on the characteristically low and sturdy dwarf sofa. Holding his throbbing back, he opened the newspaper. It seemed the ambassador who had been shot by the goblin child in Paris had finally died.

He sighed. After the deep sigh, he raised his fist and struck the sunken armrest of the sofa once more. The dwarves roaming outside would become more aggressive.

It would be better to sleep with the curtains closed tonight. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly because of the sounds of the goblin shopping district being attacked by dwarf mobs.

Originally, he had planned to stay holed up in his forge until nightfall, but entering the forge when in a bad mood could result in losing one or two rather important fingers, be it a thumb or index finger.

Instead, Hermann decided to spend his time visiting an old comrade to reminisce. He had once thought that the word “comrade” would be incomprehensible to the next generation or the one after that.

He thought that waging wars would become a thing of the past, but people fought the Great War. Moreover, if the world continued this way, they might end up fighting the Great War twice.

He grabbed the helmet and hammer he had used while serving in the German Empire and left the house. He had to go to the goblin district. Damn bastards. Forcing a soldier who once fought for His Majesty into such a place.

The comrade he was going to meet was more German than goblin. What did it matter that he was born a goblin? Goblins and dwarves were both equally short.

Dwarves had exceptionally sturdy skeletons, so they often stood at the front lines, while goblins, being small and agile, frequently handled rear supply duties. It was common to disregard both quartermasters and goblins.

Even when Hermann earned the nickname “Furnace Breath,” his comrade, who had the role of transferring mana to allow Hermann to continuously breathe fire, went unrecognized.

It didn’t matter. Hermann thought it was simply a matter of him acknowledging the other’s merits. A soldier of the Kaiser was always a soldier of the Kaiser.

Hermann had been worried he might need to breathe fire again if the dwarf mob filled the goblin district, but the goblin district was quiet this afternoon. The goblins were wary of Hermann.

Germans were wary of fellow Germans. What a terrible thing. He tried to walk without paying attention. This would never have happened when the Kaiser was around.

He knocked on his comrade’s door. He clicked his tongue at the window that had been hastily covered after being broken by a flying stone. Still, his comrade opened the door without being wary of him.

His comrade welcomed him first with open arms. He shouted loudly as if to announce that Hermann was someone who need not be feared.

“Look who it is! It’s Furnace Breath Hermann. Have you been well? It seems like it’s been almost a month since I last saw you. I think the last time I visited your forge was…”

“With a quartermaster’s memory in such a state, I’m starting to doubt how I fought so well. You came by 27 days ago. Come in. We have much to talk about.”

Thanks to that time, Hermann was barely able to forget about his daughter who had run away. The battlefield was a terrible place, but those who survived it couldn’t find topics other than the battlefield.

Over a crude cup of coffee, they engaged in the pointless conversations that old men typically have. Why is the world like this nowadays? When the Kaiser was around, at least these things didn’t happen. Common talk.

They were people who believed without doubt that the past they remembered was perfect. They weren’t good people. They were terribly old-fashioned. Still, being old-fashioned alone wasn’t wrong.

Around the time Hermann was burying his unacknowledged mistakes even deeper while catching up with his old friend at his comrade’s house, murmuring sounds began to be heard outside.

Usually they cause trouble during the day, but today they seem to be planning something for the night. Both Hermann and his comrade knew what the gathering crowd was. They were dwarves.

Young dwarves and old dwarves whose minds weren’t properly set were all gathered. Shouts could be heard. The voices of the dwarves were so mixed that it was impossible to distinguish which voice belonged to whom.

It’s just like that Hive Mind or whatever those American bastards have. That unpleasant voice was shouting something completely absurd.

“Finally, those goblin bastards have properly started their activities! It might have started with a goblin kid shooting and killing a dwarf, but if we leave them alone, the goblins will try to stab Germany in the back again like during the Great War! The divine commands us to take bloody revenge on these traitors! Word has come from Munich where the revolution began! Smash everything! Everything!”

“The dead man was a fool who didn’t believe the party’s warnings about how dangerous goblins are! If they shot and killed even someone like that, what about us! All the goblins living here are just plotting to hang us by our necks and take over our homes! Rather than falling victim to them, we should strike first!”

No sooner had those words ended than the sound of windows breaking was heard. After one window broke, it didn’t take long for two more to follow. The sound of fire being set somewhere accompanied it.

Fortunately, it didn’t seem like they had set fire to Hermann’s comrade’s house. Anger boiled in Hermann’s stomach. He couldn’t tell why. Perhaps it would be most appropriate to say it was directed at himself.

He picked up the hammer he had brought to show his comrade. Wiping the beer-splattered beard, he spat out a curse.

“Those motherless bastards… Wait inside. I’ll be back.”

With his other hand, he picked up a helmet that protected only the eyes and head, leaving the mouth uncovered, and Hermann kicked open the door of his comrade’s house and walked out. He saw a battlefield.

It might have been something similar to a battlefield, but it was a battlefield nonetheless. The windows of shops in the goblin shopping district were being broken, and people were entering as if the goblins had wronged them somehow, setting fires.

It was as if some kind of incomprehensible madness had spread among the people. While he had maintained his loyalty to the Kaiser, people had too easily fallen for sweet promises.

Pathetic creatures. Hermann struck the ground with his hammer while wearing his helmet. The sound of stone pavement breaking echoed. Glass fragments that had been on the ground scattered like crystal shards.

But that alone made too little noise. People were sweeping over each other like waves and being swept up by each other. This time, Hermann gathered mana in his two legs, raised his foot, and stomped the ground hard.

This time, the ground shook entirely. The goblins inside the buildings all crouched down, wondering if magic was finally being used, and the dwarves turned around to look at where the rumbling had come from.

There stood another dwarf. A dwarf wearing a helmet from the German Empire era and holding a hammer used as a secondary weapon in that era was glaring at them, breathing heavily.

Finally seeing that the attention of the mob gathered here was directed at him, Hermann shouted in a thunderous voice filled with mana.

“You damned sons of bitches! If the Kaiser were here, you couldn’t even imagine doing this! It would never happen! Whether goblin or dwarf, if you were born as His Majesty’s subject, you remain His Majesty’s subject until death! Can that change in twenty years? Get lost, you rust-brained bastards!”

Hermann willingly became their enemy. He struck his hammer against his fist, hardened with mana, spreading the ominous clanging sound that the imperial army vanguard used to make.

From among the crowd, a dwarf as old as Hermann pointed a finger at him. Hermann was the type of person who was more offended by the finger-pointing than the content of the words.

“So there’s still an idiot playing the stupid monarchist aristocrat game! The Kaiser you serve so devotedly was such an idiot that he lost the Great War…”

No, normally he would have been more upset by the finger-pointing, but the insult to his lord was more intolerable than the gesture. He took a deep breath.

The crowd tried to mock Hermann, but they knew well what it meant when an imperial soldier inhaled to the bottom of his lungs. They began to flee in panic, bumping into each other.

At that moment, Hermann showed why he had the nickname “Furnace Breath.” Like the breath of dragons, a fierce fiery breath erupted from his lips as mana combusted.

Since he had no intention of burning everyone to death, the flames spread wide but short. The flames rippled across the ground. They cleanly burned the road in front of where the mob stood, making it impossible to distinguish between the road and the sidewalk.

“Yes! Hermann Rotschmider remains His Majesty’s subject! Any objections? Monarchy is better than those bastards who spout that all goblins must be killed! God is God, and the king rules by divine right! How simple and wholesome is that! Voting? The people should be grateful for the grace of being looked after! Electing a leader? And such a good-for-nothing at that!”

Some dwarves, seeing that the flames hadn’t reached them, failed to recognize this as Hermann’s consideration and tried to stop him with magic, but it backfired.

On the battlefields where Hermann had fought, the combination of magical power and artillery shells was problematic, but here magic was all there was. Magic was not difficult to endure.

Hermann took the incoming ball of magical power head-on with his helmeted head. The helmet was slightly dented and corroded, but it stopped there, and he took another deep breath.

“You traitorous bastards! I’ll burn you all to death! His Majesty would be pleased with that!”

The mob, which until now had been urging each other not to be intimidated by a single dwarf, could now feel deep in their bones that those thunderous and old-fashioned shouts were sincere.

Only then did they scatter in panic and begin to flee. The dwarves who had come to destroy the goblin shopping district dispersed and returned home. They hoped not to be burned to death by the fiery breath of a fellow dwarf.

Hermann exhaled a sigh rather than flames, filled with complex emotions. Today, he had finally seen clearly with his own eyes what he had been trying to avert his gaze from. This was not the Germany he knew.

His limited insight couldn’t even find words to explain what this was. The goblin who had been his quartermaster rushed out and approached him.

Placing a hand on Hermann’s back to transfer mana was a familiar gesture, but this time Hermann brushed his hand away.

“Save it for yourself. This isn’t the place we used to live. It doesn’t seem to be the era we lived in either… I’ve been saying it’s the end times, but I didn’t know it would feel like this. It would be better to leave.”

This was not a heroic tale. It was a record of the misdeeds of a man still living in the past. But it didn’t matter much. The goblins in this goblin autonomous district owed their lives to that one royalist.

His story will be embellished. It will become the story of a dwarf who breathed dragon’s breath to protect even goblins, and that worst of fathers and conservative dwarf will be revered as a hero.

But the benefit that the lives saved by his misdeeds brought to the world outweighed the harm done by that falsehood. That was all.