Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 670 - 621 Madman’s Advice

Pushing aside the double layers of leather curtains that blocked the tavern door, Lyle’s vision was suddenly flooded with light. Mackenbert didn’t have many street lamps, the glow from the great furnace dyed the entire city in a dusky red, in combination with the distinctive metallic roofs, the time in the Dwarf Kingdom seemed to linger in a perpetual twilight.

Magic lanterns were hung on the pillars supporting the smelting furnaces, their clear light as if wiping away the dust upon everyone’s hearts.

The Fire Hammer Tavern was far from clean and tidy, with traces of scrubbing still visible on the floor, and without ventilation, the warm and pungent scent of spices rushed into Lyle’s nostrils. This would likely mean little to the thick-furred Dwarves, but Lyle’s nose felt somewhat itchy.

Lyle quickly spotted the extraordinary aspect of this restaurant, that being its staff and patrons.

They were all Dwarves with disabilities, and judging from the length of their beards, most of them had already passed their prime, standing on the threshold of old age. Dwarves of a similar age rarely appeared on the streets of Mackenbert, like twilight heroes who always step off the stage to leave the space for the fresh newcomers. But these Dwarves looked even worse, missing hands or feet was almost the norm, and some couldn’t even handle artificial metal legs, having to climb onto the banquet tables with the support of their companions.

The trials of life seemed to have pushed them into a swamp of despair, yet even so, they would turn over, facing the sky with a smile.

They wore their most beautiful clothes, helping each other secure the clasps. The goblets were held in hands, on iron hooks, in pliers, then poured into their mouths as they laughed heartily. They crowded together, resembling hamsters as they filled up the long tables, passing food from the kitchen behind them hand to hand.

Each Dwarf had a booming voice, those layers of leather seeming almost designed to block out their sound.

The noisy chatter rose and fell, then was drowned by a loud shout.

"Look! Brothers! A human! In Mackenbert!!!" Those pairs of glowing eyes hid among beards and hair, like glittering gems nestled in a bird’s nest.

Suddenly, surprise turned into cheers, as if celebrating some grand festival.

"Come over to my side, boys!"

The crowded banquet table made room for two more seats, and Visergg, with a beaming smile, invited Lyle to join the feast.

Seated next to Lyle was a fellow with a sunken left side of his skull, his left eye covered with an eye patch, contorting his ghastly face into an ugly yet simple-hearted grin. He hugged Lyle, parted as quickly as they had come together, then turned to tout to his companion.

"Human Spellcasters are frail, so when you embrace them, you’ve got to be gentler than with a Dwarf baby—that’s experience talking! I once broke the poor lad’s bones that way."

The one-eyed Dwarf turned back to Lyle, his eyes seeming to glisten with moisture.

"Humans are fragile, but their magic is much more magnificent. I’ll never forget the sight of Lord Morocoy lifting the earth."

"You pea-brained Filip, you talk human to humans, ghost to ghosts, but that ain’t what you said the day before yesterday!" The Dwarves began to noisy tease each other again.

Lyle watched Visergg, who was still laughing after having heard a joke about a goblet and a ram.

"They are different from other Dwarves, psychologically, I mean, they are closer to what I understand to be Dwarves."

"The members of Fire Hammer Tavern are veterans, they are the survivors of the war against the Evil God, the real pioneers who have touched the world and seen much. As you can see, they are scarred all over, they are Mackenbert’s spark, participants in our glorious era. Although their bodies are no longer fit for any normal Dwarf’s job, I still adore them. Here, I am never a leader. I’m just a young man scrounging meals and drinks."

"Fire Hammer Squad, the slag of the furnace."

Lyle accepted the handed goblet, steadying his emotions with the spicy and sweet aftertaste of the drink.

"Red Dragon Priest Fleisheimer was once their leader..."

"That’s why my uncle can’t face them, no one expected the price of that war, despite being prepared. In my youth, I too wanted to join them on the battlefield, but my father held me back."

"We are the King, we must guard their homes."

"But I couldn’t give them that—they no longer have homes. Bearing scars, they don’t fit in with Mackenbert, and the attacks on the Red Dragon stripped them of their honor. I’m so frustrated, Lyle, why have my people become like this, forgetting their glorious past, unable to mend their broken spines severed by the Evil God. We still have hope, after all."

The effects of alcohol slowly started to kick in, and only then did Lyle notice the empty wine cups, more than a dozen of them, beside the Dwarf King.

"It’s all right, the Dwarves always discuss matters over the table, but first, let’s have a hearty meal."

Sounds came from the kitchen, and a Dwarf cook without legs wheeled his rudimentary wheelchair over. He came to the side of the long table and took off his apron. Glancing a few times at Lyle and Visergg, he then picked up a wine cup.

"Let’s eat! Brothers!"

"Fire Hammer burns eternal!"

"To our new guest!"

...

Full from food and drink, with alcohol and fats undergoing a curious chemical reaction in his stomach, Lyle felt a little dizzy in the warm waves but fought the urge to let bad omens take away his enjoyment. Lyle’s complexion returned to a calm state, as he sat among a group of slumbering Dwarves, watching the king beside him.

"Weapons are for slaughter, and the best standard to test a weapon is destruction. I admire the abilities of the Red Dragon Imelt, but the works of the Craftsmen’s Council will eventually be used by the army; I cannot allow soldiers to go into battle with weapons that have no killing power. Nor will the Craftsmen’s Council change their own rules. We are very practical, Lyle."

"Who are your enemies?"

"The servants of the Evil God, those creatures lurking deep within the caverns, they will always return. To prevent past tragedies from recurring, we must always be prepared, and soldiers are constantly training."

"So weapons are frequently updated and all the weapons tested are new, to ensure they are in the best condition when testing new works?"

"Mr. Lyle is joking. Although we excel at forging, we’re not so extravagant as to use new weapons just to complement the Craftsmen’s Council. Those tested blades have all been used a few times; they’re flawed leftovers not quite suitable for soldiers, but as touchstones, they are absolutely reliable."

Lyle broke into a smile.

The Dwarf King watched this young man whose presence suddenly shifted. Those dark eyes seemed to possess a magic, drawing all attention to this increasingly dangerous boy. The snoring of the Dwarves began to blur around them.

Lyle’s lips moved.

"Destruction, is that really the best standard to test a weapon? I don’t think so."

"Weapons are made for killing. Then why not change the testing criteria to killing? Have the Dwarves don armor and test the weapons’ lethality. Only a weapon that has tasted blood can be considered the best."

"Visergg, kill with the weapon forged by Red Dragon Imelt."

The Dwarf King’s eyes shone like divine light, his drunken blush still lingering on his face.

Looking at that smiling human was like gazing into an indescribable abyss.

"Absurd," was Visergg’s only response.

"Absurd, deranged..." Lyle smiled, nodding in agreement with him.

"I have another word to describe these. These are things that theoretical reality cannot reach, that truth cannot control..."

"Miracles."