The craftsman of Dwarf
Prologue
Gondo Firebeard changed into his work clothes.
They were a set of coarsely-designed coveralls, stitched together from sturdy cloth. They stretched poorly and did not feel comfortable when worn. They were a poor choice for everyday wear. However, they were exceptionally suited for working in the mine tunnels, where conditions were poor. Putting it on might not have seemed like a big deal, but being able to wear such gear was revolutionary when one looked back on the history of the Dwarven people and how they had first worked the tunnels while practically naked.
After that, he put on a metal helmet, of the sort that light infantry might wear. The insides of the mines were very humid, and wearing it directly against the skin would be uncomfortable due to the heat and the trickling of sweat. Thus, the miners all padded the insides of their helmets with thick towels.
Finally, he put on a set of dog tags around his neck. The number 5 was inscribed onto the metal plate. It implied that he was on the final day of his five-day-on, five-day-off work regime.
In other words, Gondo would briefly be free from tomorrow onwards.
After his preparations were complete, Gondo emerged from the changing room and headed straight to the usual place, the waiting room.
Gondo squeezed between several dwarves and immediately picked out his name on the message board. There were four other names on the same row as his, and they would be Gondo’s shiftmates — his working buddies for today.
Finding one’s colleagues, the people with whom he would share his toil, was a piece of cake in this cramped waiting room. It would seem Gondo was the last to arrive, because his buddies had already noticed him before he could rush over.
“Ohhh! Gondo! It’s been a while!”
“Ho! Gagaiz! I'm fortunate to have you as shift leader. It’ll be good to work with you. Same goes for the others!”
“Ho, Gondo! Let’s do our best today!”
“Mm, mm. Today’s the fifth day! The last day. I’ll give it all I’ve got!”
“Ha~ I feel like slacking off~”
They chattered on like this as they left the waiting room and signed out pickaxes, shovels, and other mining tools. Then, they drew rations and refreshments — lunch boxes and two liters of water, stored in a magic item which maintained a steady temperature.
However, there was no sign of the dwarves’ beloved beverage, beer. There was no way it would be there. While it was true that the dwarves were highly resistant to alcohol and would not be intoxicated by just a few drinks, no mining boss would ever allow his prized workers to touch the demon drink while working in the dangerous tunnels.
That said—
One of the dwarves took a swig from a flask at his waist, which had not been issued to him.
“Puhaa~”
The air he exhaled was redolent with the scent of alcohol.
Neither was he the only one to do so. Gondo had several pouches like that as well.
Of course, he did not have alcohol with him. However, he had flasks of water, soup, five sticks of boiled sweets, and dwarven bread to supplement his rations.
The interior of the tunnels were hot and humid, so in addition to consuming additional calories, they had to take in extra water as well. The fact was that their issued rations were the bare minimum needed for them. Their bosses were the sort who would cut costs whenever they could.
After finishing all their preparations, they stepped up before the Dwarf who was in charge of this state-run mining tunnel.
He was seated on the other side of a counter, a creepy, sinister-looking Dwarf in glasses. He raised an eyebrow, and looked over Gondo and company.
He muttered quietly when he came to the humming Dwarf who reeked of alcohol, but in the end he did not say anything. He might have been their manager, but he was still a Dwarf, and he understood these things. Or rather, it was because Gagaiz made the first move and spoke up.
“I am Gagaiz. Where will we be digging today?”
The creepy-looking Dwarf snorted, and then turned his attention from the group to the map he was holding. Although their view was blocked by the counter, it was reasonable to assume that it was a chart which held the assignments for all the dig sites.
“You’ll be in Sector 8821.”
“8821… heatstones, then?”
Heatstones were very important things to the Dwarves.
Dwarves were a race of the earth. For the most part, they lived underground. When they used coal or firewood to produce the heat needed for warmth, cooking and smithing, it would pollute the air and make life difficult for them.
Granted, there were magic items which could cleanse the air. However, such items required druids to make, and they were regrettably rare among the Dwarves. Thus they could not mass-produce such magic items.
Therefore, they used the metal called heatstones as a replacement for those things.
Heatstones were a special kind of metal. If one struck them with a very hard metal — mithril, at the barest minimum — they would produce intense heat. The Dwarves used this curious metal like coal, and their refineries and smithies consumed vast quantities of them. Thus, one could say that heatstones were a central part of Dwarven life.
Incidentally, firewood and the like were rare in this place.
A set of metal plates hit the counter; they were permits which allowed passage in and out of the tunnels. Gagaiz threaded them onto his necklace with a dexterity one would not have expected of his stubby fingers.
After that, he studied the sheet of paper which had been passed to him. He let the others read it as well after he had verified the contents.
Soon, the paper reached Gondo’s hands. As always it contained the route leading to their dig site. Gondo imprinted the location of several critical junctions into his mind. They would come in handy if they had to flee due to an emergency. After all, monsters might show up even in a Dwarven mine, so it paid to be careful about these things.
“Use the mining cart at the third junction.”
“Got it. Then, let’s go!”
They oiled up the manually-operated minecart at the third junction and then pushed it forward according to Gagaiz’s directions. The interior of the tunnels were lit by lanterns containing naturally-glowing oil. However, those lanterns were spaced very far apart, so at times, entire sections of the tunnel were shrouded in darkness. That said, all Dwarves had darkvision, which could easily overcome the darkness. Of course, this darkvision did not have unlimited range, but it was enough to go from lantern to lantern.
Perhaps the races from the outside world would not be able to bear the sense of pressure which the tunnels imposed on its occupants. However, it had no effect at all on the underground-dwelling Dwarves. The tunnels might have seemed narrow, but they were quite spacious to the Dwarves. Given that the average height of a Dwarf was around 130cm, a tunnel of around 180cm across was broad enough for them.
Before long, the sound of footsteps came from ahead.
If they were miners like Gondo and the others, they should have heard the sound of a minecart as well. However, there was nothing of the sort. What was this, then? If it was the patapata of bare feet on the ground, they would have dumped everything and fled back to where they came. However, that was not the case; the footsteps sounded like they had been made with boots.
They had an idea of who might be making those sounds.
Soon, they saw a squad of Dwarves.
Gondo and the others pressed themselves to the sides of the walls so as not to impede their progress. Well, they did that, but the minecart still took up space in the middle of the tunnel, so saying that they were trying to keep out of their way was merely wishful thinking on the part of Gondo and the others.