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Chapter 309
Successor
The next day, Valdemar's man came to escort Ferda.
It was for the meeting Valdemar had mentioned.
"The Grand Duke himself plans to brief you for the meeting in 4 hours."
"That's tight."
"The meeting was originally scheduled for yesterday. It was Valdemar-nim who decided to postpone it."
W̆ еb̄ nôvеl̄ Е̂ń ú m̆a
That was unexpected.
Ferda had simply assumed they'd deliberately tightened the schedule to put him in a difficult spot.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Getting a briefing like this, and even being accommodated to attend the main meeting itself—it was a touching gesture.
Of course, Ferda had no intention of drowning in such sentiment.
He merely figured there must be some new scheme.
Following the aide, he arrived at the command post.
Ĕ ňů m̆ a . і̃d̀
"You're here."
Valdemar rose from his seat to greet Ferda.
Ferda offered his greetings while simultaneously casting his gaze over the man's shoulder.
Behind him, the commanders were clearing away horses and maps.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
Unless it was a child of ten or so, that wasn't a war-play board game but a strategic deployment map.
'Strategy cannot be shared.'
Ẅе̌ b̈n о̌ v̀ ѐ l Е ǹ u m a
Ferda understood it as such.
"Did you sleep well last night?"
He asked after his welfare naturally.
"Yes. With surveillance so thorough inside and out, I had no choice but to sleep well."
"Sleep is important in a safe place. Aide, when does the frontline meeting start?"
"In 3 hours 30 minutes, scheduled to proceed at the conference hall."
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"Not much time left. Let's begin our talk."
He guided him to a seat, and Ferda sat down.
Valdemar personally recounted everything that had happened so far.
'Agreement with the dwarves.'
Magitech technology couldn't be applied directly, but casting techniques were needed to create the framework items.
Casting was easy enough to be the basics of all blacksmiths, and for dwarves it was a piece of cake.
Е̇ ńù m̀ а
"The dwarves prepared a gift for you. They said they really wanted to try giving their own items to the Regent."
Valdemar signaled to the aide, who brought a box and presented it before Ferda.
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Ferda naturally tried to refuse, but seeing the box's condition, he closed his mouth.
'Stalburg's sealing wax.'
Stalburg's sealing wax fundamentally blocked gaps, proving the item's condition had not been interfered with.
It was handling thorough enough to inspire trust even in someone as sensitive as Ferda.
Еn u ḿ а .i d̃
And above all, a weapon received as a gift is made for that person.
Even if it were the enemy who killed their parents, not playing tricks with a gift—that was the spirit of dwarf artisans.
Seeing the name 'Ferda Valdrova' engraved on it meant it was absolutely not a trap.
"I'll open it."
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
The aide skillfully sliced the wax with a knife, and the single box split into two, revealing the contents inside.
One could understand why they were being so thorough.
Е̇ n̆ûm̈ă . ĩd
"It's a pistol."
A weapon designed for commanders' self-defense, existing when the new weapon blueprints were handed over.
The difference was that this was a magitech weapon made by dwarves.
Magitech weapons relied more on casting work than forging iron.
Casting was basic competency for all blacksmiths, so it was treated as simple work assigned to apprentices.
But in magitech, casting required an extremely delicate process on par with fine metalworking.
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Because magitech is based on magic, if every part doesn't have detail, accuracy and defect rates skyrocket.
How about the dwarves, then?
"May I fire it once?"
Even to himself, it sounded crazy.
Contrary to the expectation that he'd be cut off immediately, Valdemar merely gave a simple gesture to the aide.
The aide handed Ferda a faintly glowing cartridge with a dubious expression.
W е̌ bn оv ӗ l Ё n.ũ mа̃
Ferda quickly grasped its structure and mounted the cylinder.
As he engaged the trigger safety, he felt vibration from the cylinder.
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'I can feel it.'
Countless eyes on Ferda.
Innumerable gazes directed at him were sending warnings.
If that muzzle pointed even slightly toward Valdemar, they were prepared to sever wrists or throw their bodies.
Ẅ еb̌ n̆ оv̆ е̊ l̇ Ė ńům а̀
Of course, Ferda wasn't an idiot.
Ferda raised the pistol toward a helmet hanging on the wall.
As he extended his arm, the sight automatically popped up to assist his aim.
It centered perfectly in the sight's middle, and he fired just like that.
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Bang!
A mana bullet piercing straight through the helmet.
Еnu m̀ ã . і d̃
Unfortunately, the rear only dented, and the wall only got a few scratches.
"Did you modify the spell formula?"
"Would've been nice if I did. You think idiots who don't even properly understand magitech could grasp it all in a few weeks and find improvements?"
Even without touching the spell formula, penetration and accuracy had noticeably increased.
That meant the only thing changed here was the dwarves' casting technique.
'It's practically art.'
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Dwarves, born artisans.
They would have known from the moment they received the blueprints which parts were important and needed detail.
It was a level of completion impossible without an artisan's sense.
"How many did you make?"
"5,000 rifles. About 4,000 shotguns."
"You produced a lot in a short time. I thought you'd have plenty of ammo left, but apparently not."
Ë n̈ ú mа
"They're no ordinary folks. Using mobile furnaces to cast on rattling wagons? The moment they settled, they built furnaces in one go and started melting iron. Ah, and half of what's produced will be used by the dwarves."
Valdemar chuckled.
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"First time in my life seeing dwarves make that kind of face. The race that hated and loathed magic the most—the moment they held weapons, they lit up like kids receiving birthday gifts."
Indeed.
A race that despised magic so much, yet more sincere than anyone before magitech.
That hatred was ultimately inferiority complex from having lower mana resonance than other races.
W̊е̃b̄ n̂о̀ v̊еl Е.ṅúm̂ а
If they could use magic, they couldn't help but show interest.
'And weapons like these suit that race too.'
Low mobility but high stability.
Shotgun recoil was notorious enough to break knights' wrists without shield mounts, but it was perfect for dwarves' short, sturdy frames.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
'Bernel's value will rise even more with this.'
Ferda engaged the safety, and the vibrating pistol's vibration subsided.
Ẇ eb̊nо̇v е l Е̊ ǹ um̌ а
The eyes on Ferda no longer called for tension.
"In exchange for mass-producing weapons like this, we'll go the dwarves' way regarding the World Tree."
"Don't those bastards just want the World Tree to burn?"
"We don't say it, but we don't like it either."
The World Tree's roots spreading across all of Serdes.
With such a massive body, needing vast nutrients was a given.
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The tree the elves call Mother absorbed nutrients through roots spread everywhere, and that included ores.
Quality ores turning to trash when mined—dwarves considered those roots a bigger headache than rust.
'No wonder they conflict with elves.'
The World Tree's roots would extend indifferently, and dwarves had to watch helplessly as unmined top-grade iron ores turned to trash, so territorial disputes made sense.
"The dwarves want to get rid of the World Tree fast, huh."
"Always did, but now it's fire on their doorstep. Already a headache, and with Mesabosk joining the war, the problem's grown even larger."
E ń.ů mа . і́ d́
Owner of Forest and Vitality.
She began taking position at the World Tree's uppermost section instead of her domain, the Immovable Land, and the story's tempo accelerated several times over.
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"They say her vitality constantly spewing out makes the World Tree's roots move several times faster. So the underground situation is like weathering a storm, they say."
Mine shafts collapse, and ores in untunneled paths turn to trash.
He'd heard it through Garnet, but Ferda just nodded lightly.
That alone seemed a sufficient gesture of having gained good intel.
Ё n̊ u m a. іď
"How are you handling it?"
"Even the World Tree is ultimately a single organism. Living things are weak to heat. We're burning the large roots with magma paths to block them. Of course, it's not as easy as burning wood."
If roots extend uselessly, burn them to solve it.
But it's not easily solved.
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The World Tree is a creature that's lived since the primordial era.
It survived because it's strong.
W̊е̄b̀nо̇vеl Еn ùm̄ а
If it lacked defense mechanisms against those threatening its life, surviving that long would be impossible.
'And the High Elves' defense plays a part too.'
They've been holed up inside the tree for ages, but each one is a high mage.
If they respond with the World Tree's abundant mana, they'll build a defense system even stronger than the Arken Imperial Palace.
'The Great Chieftain......'
What happened to the Great Chieftain?
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He foresaw this downfall, asked Ferda to look after Rize, and let him escape.
He even foretold his own death.
'But I won't let him die.'
The Great Chieftain is the highest position knowing all High Elves' languages.
Such heavy responsibilities would have been thoroughly arranged so the successor goes to the right person even in crisis.
'That's why Rize would step up.'
Еn u m̌ a . і̊ḋ
He was the scribe atop the World Tree, the elf closest to the Great Chieftain.
Of High Elf blood, but a girl scorned by all for failing to inherit the spirit.
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'No, a boy......'
Hearing the World Tree's situation, Rize temporarily quit adventuring and declared participation.
The Great Chieftain is definitely alive, and his wish was to save at least that person.
The Great Chieftain was Rize's father, and it was a family matter.
Ẇе b ňо̀v̇ ē l Е̇ n̈ ŭ m̀ ǎ
Ferda had no authority to refuse.
"Anyway, I just hope those damn troubles get resolved quickly."
Good iron ore supply was urgent not just for dwarves but the Empire too.
With a shared goal, Frontesis and those dwarves must have joined.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
As the talk wrapped up, Valdemar cleared his throat and changed the subject.
"Throat's parched. Want a drink? I want to treat you to something even my close aides have never tasted."
W̆е b́ ñ о v̈еl̊ Еn ŭ m̄ а̊
The aide prepared two cups.
"I'll decline."
"I've seen plenty of mages crazy for booze, but first time seeing someone persistently refuse like you. Don't like your mind getting cloudy?"
"Wouldn't that be even more true when the enemy's right before us?"
"Worried about a surprise attack?"
"The opposite."
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At the insolent attitude, a displeased gaze turned to Ferda.
He was the Great Valdemar Golt, and that didn't change even if he was a usurper who killed the Emperor and lost tradition.
"The back of my head's prickling for no reason."
Valdemar gestured.
At his gesture, everyone filling the command post filed out.
Valdemar personally picked up the alcohol on the table and filled a cup.
Еn u m̌а̂. і d
"Can't hold out forever without drinking. That's the only way humans like us can live long."
"What do you mean, humans like us?"
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"Those who know war is madness. Yet are closest to it. Those who must watch the whore called guilt pretend to be a lover, endlessly wagging her tail."
He downed the drink in gulps.
Though the color and scent were unmistakably hard liquor, his complexion didn't change a bit.
"Do you know what that guilt makes us? Either we get eaten, or we go numb. The eaten break, the numb become soldiers."
Е̊ num а́
"Then you've become a true soldier."
"Unfortunately, no. I'm a commander. Mustn't be eaten, mustn't go numb. Must neither know nor ignore guilt, but keep it constantly beside me. If you can't maintain that objectivity, you can't become the Great Valdemar Golt."
"What are you trying to say?"
No desire to play along with his self-indulgence.
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Then Valdemar spoke with a smile.
Contrary to the calm tone, the content was shocking.
Еn̊ ù.m̃а̂
"If my guess is right, I'll be the sacrificial lamb in this war. With that, the Empire will find a foothold to leap again."
His eyes weren't those of a man facing imminent death.
"And after I die, I intend to name you as my successor."
Only light toward a new future was visible.
