Episode 318 – It’s Ti to Return Ho
Distribution rights.
The rights to distribute goods crafted by witches, elves, and dwarves—items made by non-human races.
It was a profit-sharing right separate from the exclusive Leaf rights, allowing one to sell products made by the World Tree Union. When word spread that I had already proposed these rights to nurous trading companies, the atmosphere in the mansion turned grim.
‘The Leaf agents worked faster than I expected.’
I thought the news would reach the Lenon household by late evening, but it arrived before sunset.
The plan to cautiously test the waters had fallen through, but that was fine.
“...A stamp? What are you talking about? We haven't even exchanged contract details yet.”
“How hurtful. I clearly conveyed my intentions. It was you, Italus, who never responded.”
From the first eting, I had said we should release the dwarves and try negotiating with the Dwarf King.
It was Italus who had delayed his reply.
“The Lenon family believed this visit was to discuss the truth about distribution rights.”
“That could be one reason for the visit, I suppose.”
At my words, Italus’s eyebrow twitched. It was as if he hadn’t even considered the issue of distribution rights.
“May I ask the real reason for visiting our family?”
“I’m simply here to keep a promise.”
“A promise?”
“You don’t rember? At the city gate, you asked to et with you again before making any deal with Azonne. Did I hear wrong? Should I go?”
“...No, you’re right. That’s what I said.”
It was sothing he had blurted out in urgency, feeling the pressure from Lochter’s presence. No, even now, he didn’t regret saying it.
Italus slowly exhaled, calming himself. He had almost made a mistake due to the emotional news his son brought.
Like a seasoned rchant, he quickly regained composure and personally led us into the mansion.
A splendid corridor stretched before us.
After asking for a mont of understanding, Italus gestured to a certain spot.
A young man approached politely. One glance told he was Italus’s son—he looked just like the gruff old man.
“These are important guests. Show them personally to their quarters.”
“Yes, Master.”
Leaving his son in charge, Italus looked at and smiled.
The usual salesman’s smile.
“Thank you for visiting the Lenon family. My son will show you to your room. Get so rest and let’s share dinner later.”
“Thank you for the dinner invitation.”
When I emphasized "dinner banquet," Italus chuckled awkwardly and left.
I found myself facing a group of about ten people trailing behind him.
From their gazes, I sensed two emotions.
Curiosity or wariness.
‘Not bad.’
At least no one seed hostile toward the World Tree Union. It gave a sense of how their internal discussion had gone.
“This way, please.”
His son politely led us as Italus took the others upstairs.
The reason he’d asked to be excused was obvious.
He needed ti—to prepare a counterasure.
The distribution rights had reached the rchant groups, and that changed everything. He needed to strategize.
And assigning his son to us was to monitor our every move.
“I’m Antonio. If you need anything, just let know.”
Introducing himself as Antonio, Italus’s son guided us to the guest rooms on the third floor. As we climbed the stairs, several objects caught our attention.
Even Lochter, rarely one to show interest, seed intrigued.
Swords, axes, armor, and helts, all designed with flair and elegance, were displayed along the walls.
All bore traces of dwarven craftsmanship.
Looking at the equipnt, I asked Antonio,
“These pieces—are they works of the dwarves residing in the Lenon Workshop?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“The dwarves must have a favorable relationship with the Lenon Workshop, then.”
At my words, Antonio froze slightly, then asked in surprise,
“How did you know?”
“The touch in these pieces feels natural. When forced labor is involved, there’s always a certain stiffness.”
“As expected of a representative of the non-human races. Yes, it’s true. People describe the dwarves in the Lenon Workshop as slaves, but in reality, it’s more of a symbiotic relationship.”
This wasn’t sothing widely known.
Noticing it with just a glance at the equipnt made Antonio’s eyes gleam with admiration.
I smiled in return.
‘Nothing special.’
The Lenon Workshop’s treatnt of dwarves was all docunted in the original novel.
Among the many factions, they would clash the least with the World Tree Union.
That’s why I was trying to make the Lenon Workshop the Union’s backbone in Aintrier.
I unpacked in the room and sat on the soft bed.
Was this made by dwarves too?
It was soft enough that I wanted to take it back with .
“If there’s anything you need…”
“I want to et the dwarves.”
Startled by my sudden request, Antonio forced an awkward smile.
“Anything regarding the dwarves isn’t exactly within my authority…”
“Then ask the Master. The sooner, the better.”
“Understood. But I wouldn’t expect too much—”
“Oh, and.”
Before he could make an excuse, I cut him off with a single line:
“Tell the Master this will be the second and last opportunity.”
Antonio lowered his head without a word and left the room.
Lochter, who had been silently seated, asked ,
“Do you think the dwarves are really in this mansion?”
“Highly likely. Sowhere inside.”
According to the report from the ghosts, no dwarves were staying in the workshop. Since they were core personnel, it made sense they wouldn't be kept sowhere visible.
They were likely hidden sowhere—probably within the mansion. That was the ghosts’ conclusion after their investigation, and I trusted it.
Shortly after, Antonio returned and knocked.
Looking noticeably more relaxed, he politely spoke:
“Please, follow .”
It seed Italus had given permission.
***
Thunk!
The floor beneath us shuddered as we began descending.
I looked around in curiosity.
A small chamber large enough for ten people slowly lowered beneath the floor. We seed to descend about three stories underground.
The entire room on the mansion’s first floor had been built to function like an elevator.
I stared in wonder at Antonio operating the device.
‘Didn’t expect to experience a chanical elevator here.’
This was undoubtedly the work of dwarves.
There were signs of their craftsmanship everywhere—clear evidence of how much effort they had put into the mansion.
We walked down a long corridor, chatting briefly.
“How many dwarves are here?”
“There were fifty, but the number recently increased to seventy.”
“Seventy? That’s quite a jump.”
“Slave hunters have been active all over recently. They’re likely hunting those trying to reach the World Tree.”
“And the Lenon Workshop bought those slaves.”
At the pointed tone of my words, Antonio quickly tried to defend himself.
“The Lenon Workshop is only interested in dwarves. As I said before, we strive to maintain a symbiotic relationship.”
Their thod was simple.
They sold goods crafted by dwarves, and with that inco, bought other enslaved dwarves to rescue them.
The idea was that if dwarves had to be enslaved, better to be under soone who treated them well.
And their treatnt truly was good.
I had heard they were treated more like artisans than slaves.
Whether Antonio’s words were true, I could confirm with my own eyes.
Creak— Creak—
At the end of the corridor, a large iron door stood shut.
Antonio manipulated a chanism, and the door slowly opened.
A burst of heat and loud noise spilled out.
Kkaang! Kaaang! Kang!
The sound of tal being struck.
The rhythmic pounding of forging echoed from inside.
“Welco to the Lenon Forge. You’re the first guests ever brought here.”
Following Antonio’s lead, Lochter and I stepped inside.
The underground forge was as large as a soccer field, with facilities set up in an orderly fashion.
As we walked through the packed workspace, none of the dwarves paid us any mind.
So glanced up as we approached, but that was it.
They simply continued forging equipnt, fully focused on their tasks.
Seeing them ignore us, Antonio clicked his tongue and said,
“Dwarves rarely speak to us first. Only when they need sothing—materials or food.”
“And you provide them with everything?”
“Yes. No matter how much it costs.”
Just as Antonio said, the dwarves looked to be in excellent condition. There was no sign of oppression. They were provided the best environnt possible.
‘They really do understand dwarves.’
Dwarves don’t swing their hamrs when suppressed. You have to coax them slowly, not force them.
In Italus’s case, he seed to have persuaded them by prioritizing the safety of their kin.
That was enough confirmation.
“Let’s head back up.”
“If they knew you were from the World Tree Union, they’d be very interested. You’re just going to leave?”
Do dwarves who’ve lived as slaves even know about the World Tree Union?
If they found out that I had ties to King Dorneth of the dwarves—and that I was the one who saved his partner, Sharbadin—their reaction would change completely.
‘But there’s no way to prove it…’
As a human, anything I said now would fall on deaf ears.
Knowing dwarven nature, they’d probably just tell to shut up and leave.
As we turned to go, a dwarf in a blacksmith’s cap suddenly blocked our path and stared hard at Lochter.
More precisely, he couldn’t take his eyes off the red twin swords at Lochter’s waist.
“This…”
A low murmur from one dwarf stirred the forge.
Dwarves began gathering around Lochter one by one.
They must’ve co straight from the forge, each wielding a hamr, surrounding us in silence.
Their gazes were locked onto Lochter’s twin swords.
Belin and Reina, the last masterpiece crafted by Master Dwarf Dorneth at the Witch’s Forge.
Caught off guard by the dwarves’ sudden action, Antonio grew visibly tense and swallowed dryly.
“W-what is it…?”
His question went unanswered as the dwarves ignored him and approached Lochter.
Even as they closed in, Lochter stood still, arms crossed.
Then, one dwarf gestured, and as if agreeing in unison, the rest stepped back.
The dwarf in the blacksmith’s cap—clearly the leader of this forge—spoke.
“…Where did you get those twin swords?”
“A dwarf made them for .”
“May I examine them for a mont?”
Seeing the earnestness in the dwarf’s eyes, Lochter handed the swords over without hesitation.
It was respect for the race that had created Belin and Reina.
The dwarf gently handled the swords and slowly closed his eyes.
Opening them again, he looked up at Lochter.
“Can you tell who made these blades?”
“Dorneth, Lord of Beneta.”
At the ntion of that na, the dwarves clenched their jaws.
Their grip on their hamrs tightened.
The dwarf holding the swords asked,
“Are these truly yours?”
“They are.”
“…May I shake your hand?”
Lochter, having re-sheathed the swords, quietly extended his hand.
The dwarf studied it with his eyes closed, then nodded and gave a slight bow.
“My na is Koristman. I lead this forge.”
Antonio’s eyes widened.
Even his father, the head of the Lenon Workshop, didn’t know this dwarf’s real na. Yet Koristman had revealed it to Lochter.
“There’s only one ti our king ever made a sword for a human.”
“A friend,” I said.
Koristman turned to and gave a faint smile.
“Are you our friend too?”
“Closer to a benefactor than a friend.”
“…A benefactor?”
I nodded and said,
“It’s ti to return ho.”
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