Chapter Twelve: Dwarves

Piraeus? It seemed Komer’s memory doors had opened— a port city-state located in the south of the Azure Continent. He had passed by there during his exile; it was an important member of the Corinthian City-States Alliance. That meant he hadn’t fallen into an alternate dimension but had been transported to the far south of the Azure Continent. What place was this? Why were dwarves so discriminated against? It seemed that in the south of the Azure Continent, dwarves also formed a quite large population. Wasn’t the Principality of Sevilo a dwarven kingdom?

Suddenly, Haireddin Babalosha’s words flashed through his mind: Gozo Island? The Gigantia Temple? Was this the Gigantia Temple? Yes, definitely!

Komer realized it was the grandest dark ritual temple in the entire south of the Azure Continent. No wonder even the servants of the god of the underworld, Hades, had a place to worship there. That collapsed temple must be the key to the hostility between Piraeus and the Principality of Sevilo. No wonder these people were so wary of dwarves approaching Gozo Island— it was the dwarven ships from the Principality of Sevilo that landed on Gozo, causing the temple to collapse and suddenly straining the previously harmonious relations between the two sides. He wondered what the current situation between the two countries was like. If Piraeus’ navy discovered more dwarves approaching Gozo, they would surely associate it with the temple’s collapse and wouldn’t treat this merchant ship kindly. No wonder the captain ordered the dwarves to be drowned immediately.

“Captain, it’s too late now. If we throw these dwarves into the sea right away, it will only arouse greater suspicion among the people of Piraeus. It will only make things worse. Besides, these dwarf craftsmen are very important to us. Drowning them will cause us significant losses, and if the dwarves find out, they will retaliate violently. Our family won’t protect us in such matters.”

A deep voice reminded the captain not to panic. Drowning the dwarves would also have serious consequences. No one could guarantee that the crew wouldn’t get drunk in a bar one day and reveal this incident. If that happened, the family would surely hand over those responsible as scapegoats.

“What then? The people of Piraeus hate dwarves deeply—they won’t spare us! Damn this mirage! How could I have lost my head and want to go up and take a look?!” As he lamented, that high-pitched voice urgently asked, “So what should we do?”

“We have no choice but to take things one step at a time. Our Sparta Babalosha family has never had conflicts with the people of Piraeus. If handled properly, things might not be as bad as imagined.” A deep voice sighed softly before continuing, “Put those dwarf craftsmen in the lowest storage area. Hopefully, the people of Piraeus won’t be unreasonable. We’re just mortal ships, and the dwarves are merely passengers we’re taking along.”

A flurry of chaotic footsteps came down the stairs. Komer sighed inwardly. He had planned to sneak ashore from this stinking lower deck, but never expected to encounter such trouble right after setting sail. The illusion spell was just a minor air magic with a short duration. Now that these dwarf craftsmen had been driven down, he had nowhere to retreat and was about to be exposed.

Fortunately, the dwarves who had just come up from the deck clearly hadn’t adapted to the complete darkness yet. It wasn’t until the sailors who escorted them down repeatedly warned them not to make noise so as not to be detected by the Piraeus naval sailors that they began to mutter complaints.

A rich aroma of wine came from across, causing Komer’s stomach to growl. He had been trapped on Gozo Island for ten days, eating nothing but grilled fish—no other side dishes at all, to the point where he felt like vomiting. Now, smelling the wine suddenly, he found it hard to control himself.

“Who’s there? Who’s that?” The dwarf closest to Komer had sharp hearing and immediately detected the noise. Nervously, he gripped his axe and asked in a hoarse voice.

At this point, Komer didn’t intend to hide any longer. Besides, he really wanted to taste the fine wine they had. Since they were in the south, he felt much more relaxed. Moreover, those boring ten days on Gozo had given him ample time to understand why Kenifer III could be considered a peerless Dark Emperor—the endless flow of dark magic and the ability to freely transform magical essence allowed Komer to truly grasp the insight that mastering one magic led to mastering all.

“Hehe, it’s me, a poor wanderer,” Komer said as he stepped out from the dark corner. The densely stacked barrels of salted fish created a huge shadow, allowing Komer to remain out of sight of these dwarves who hadn’t yet adapted to the darkness. But now, he no longer planned to hide.

Komer’s completely different attire from that of the people in the southern region immediately made the four dwarves realize he was by no means a crew member or guest on the ship, and they grew nervous. Almost simultaneously, four hand axes flashed with a cold gleam as they were grasped in their hands. Axes were always the dwarves’ most familiar weapons, with differences mainly lying in size, design, and material weight.

“A wanderer? You’re not from this ship—where did you board?” asked the dwarf closest to Komer warily. “We didn’t see you in Pyrgos!”

Pyrgos was a member of the League of Corinthian City-States, located on the shores of the Saronikos Gulf at the northernmost end of the three major bays in the Southern Seas. It faced the city-state of Syracuse in the southern Corinthian Gulf, controlling the entrance to the three bays. Thanks to its abundant sunlight, the Pyrgos region was the most important salt-producing area in the League of Corinthian City-States, supplying salt to all its members. Since Pyrgos was closely connected to the largest dwarf settlement inland—the Kingdom of Smyrna—there were also a considerable number of dwarves in the city-state of Pyrgos. The dwarves from the Smyrna region, seeking a better life, often went to various city-states in the League of Corinthian City-States to make a living.

“Oh, please have pity on this homeless man. I don’t have the money for a ticket, so I had to board secretly. Please don’t make a fuss, will you?” Komer pretended to look pitiful, licking his lips before adding, “Kind old dwarf, I was wondering if I could taste a bit of the fine wine at your waist? I haven’t eaten anything in days.”

Immediately clutching the wine pouch at his waist, the dwarf’s thick beard trembled as he muttered, “Wine? No, we still have a long journey ahead…”

“Oh, so this is what the legendary generous dwarves are like? I can’t believe my ears…” Komer placed his hand over his ear in astonishment, looking utterly incredulous.

His face turned red instantly, and the other dwarves also started shouting, “Hynions, give your wine to this mortal friend! Your behavior is a disgrace to us dwarves!”

“Hynions, you fool! Once we reach Sparta, there will be plenty of wine for you to drink. Give your wine pouch to this friend!”

The dwarves’ generosity and love for face-saving immediately showed up at this moment. Aside from being slightly stingy with wine, nothing else seemed to matter to them. In their lives, apart from forging, building, and mining—methods they relied on to make a living—perhaps only drinking was indispensable to them. As long as there was good wine, especially strong liquor, they wouldn’t hesitate to give everything they had.

Some grumbled in dissatisfaction. The dwarf named Hinions was forced to yield under the pressure of his companions. With a resentful expression, he seemed to be looking for someone among them to show sympathy, but everyone turned away, as long as they didn’t have to bring out their own wine bags, everything was fine.

Reluctantly, the dwarf removed his wine bag from the exquisite leather belt around his waist and handed it to Komer. The reluctance in his eyes made Komer feel uneasy. If it weren’t for his own need to ease his long-dry mood, Komer might have given up on forcing them to do this.

The mild mead left a lingering taste in Komer’s mouth. Though it wasn’t particularly good, he knew the quality of the wine in the bag was quite limited—just the kind of low-alcohol mead common in mortal villages, often mixed with a lot of water. But for dwarves who could never learn to brew wine, having wine at all made life wonderful.

“How’s it? It’s pure, right?” Seeing the pride in the dwarf’s brown eyes, Komer couldn’t bear to ruin his good mood. “Mm, really good. It’s authentic burnt wheat wine, made from wheat—not some substitute.”

“Heh, buddy, you really have taste. Truly someone who’s seen the world. I bought this for three gold karas in Pergos. Your mortal brewing techniques are truly amazing, though a bit expensive.” The bearded dwarf’s mood improved instantly, as if it were his own wine.

Three gold karas? That was nine gold shields! Komer cursed inwardly at those unscrupulous merchants. Three gold karas could buy three bags of authentic Red Thatch Wine. Compared to that, this wine was practically swill.

“Buddy, are you a bard?” The now-relaxed dwarves immediately showed their warm nature and quickly accepted Komer. “You’re from the north, right? The Kingdom of Nicomedia or the Kingdom of Bohemia?”

Probably in the eyes of the dwarves, the Kingdom of Nicosia is the mortal kingdom in the north they are aware of, while the Kingdom of Bohemia benefits from the Order of the Wings of the Sacred Sky in its capital, Prague, Komer thought.