A Dragon Idol's Reincarnation Tale

“Train, incoming! Make clear at boarding platform zero! VIP, incoming!” The station announcer bellowed through a metal-square microphone, transferring her voice through metal pipes to resound throughout the station.

The train station in Gazahan-Orn was one of the smaller ones, due to the hold being primarily a mining city. Still, even if the city wasn’t visited often by tourists, merchants, or adventurers, the ores, coal, and gemstones were great export goods, keeping the hold financially steady. Not to mention there was also the Luedbrumdar clan, famed for their blacksmiths’ quality… Although, that wasn’t an uncommon statement for dwarves.

However, strangely, today was different. As the train stopped at the station platform, echoing its creaking wheels along the metal rails as blue seams lit up, filled to the brim with mana, dwarven spectators got curious. They watched as a single dwarven adventurer exited from one of the grey locomotive-like train’s commuter cars, along with a few miners.

Some were interested in the adventurer’s sharp look, fierce demeanor, and beastman-like eyes. They quickly recognized the man as a dwarf-beastman hybrid from the claws and fangs once he yawned. The dwarven artificers and train engineers immediately took notice of the quality of his equipment, despite the rust and lack of stylistic designs. From the scars and knicks on it, they knew he was a veteran fighter.

However, their attention was immediately taken away when the VIP came out of the sharp-nose train head. An Inko woman with long brown hair in a beige-pink gemstone-patterned kimono with a fur coat came out after multiple hand-maidens and four dwarven earthshakers and two samurais. The woman had her back-length hair entirely petrified, out of the roots on her scalp, where she was wearing a crown adorned with multiple red gems.

“H-High Queen Tragaya!”

This was the Ankoran Queen of the dwarves of Ankor-Nazta, wife of the Ankoran King and current ruler. Outside of that role, she was also an elder of the Council of Wisewoman, a group of hold queens and clan matriarchs tasked to advise their husbands or siblings, while also acting as a facilitator between royalty and the Church of Crustacia.

As the spectators noticed their high queen, they all bowed except for a few who slipped out of the station. High Queen Tragaya waved at her subjects as she moved through the station, only to be greeted by the Gazahan-Orn hold king Ulshuk, his wife, another member of the Council, and the clan leader of the Luedbrumdar, Maagneil.

“Ankoran Queen.” The three most important figures of the hold bowed in respect, welcoming their queen with slightly visible trepidation.

“You may rise,” the gentle-voiced queen ordered, allowing the three to rise before Tragaya looked over to the hold queen.

Kings spoke to kings, queens to queens, wisewoman to wisewoman. At least, that was the etiquette if it was possible.

“My queen, it is good to see you well. I hope you had a good trip.” Standard greetings came out first as the two queens conversed and complimented each other’s appearance, before it was time to get down to business. “… We read the Ankoran King’s letter. Certainly a surprising visit, no?”

“Aye, Queen Bashira, but our ears have heard notice of something happening four days ago. Some sort of attack? After some discussion, my husband and I thought it prudent to investigate, see if you need anything. Honestly, that husband of mine is probably just elated to finally get out of the palace. Eager-footed, as always.” The high queen then turned to the hold king, gazing into the man’s dilated eyes, noticing his shaking hands and lack of sleep. “I do apologize, though. My husband will be arriving soon, King Ulshuk, but he will be delayed due to his work.”

The king shook his head, bellowing out a laugh in an attempt to hide his nervousness. “Nonsense, my Queen! We can wait, of course, gahaha! We can just take this opportunity to celebrate two feasts, no? Wonderful, I say! We shall serve you the best beer and meat pies we have!”

Tragaya smiled. “Wonderful. Queen Bashira, I shall be asking a few questions here and there about the accidents, but let us visit the Church and speak. I need to inform you of a few changes. And, Lord Maagneil, right?”

Maagneil bowed, closing his enlarged eye as he responded, “Yes, my Queen.”

“The accident involved your clan, correct? You shall inform me much.” The wisewoman’s eyes shimmered for a moment, silencing all three of her guest givers.

“… Yes, my Queen.”

And so, with her entourage of bodyguards and handmaidens, the High Queen of Ankor-Nazta was led through the streets for her inspection, allowing her to take in the gossip and noise of this small hold. There were some who showed her reverence, while others greeted her quickly before returning to their task or food. Unlike most societies with a caste system, the need to show exaggerated reverence to a noble or lord was unnecessary outside of simple respect.

After all, the Church of Crustacia, the national religion of the dwarves of Ankor-Nazta encouraged simple worship. As long as you gave Goddess Crustacia your respect and dedicate your work and even feast in her name, it was sufficient. There was no need to visit and pray in churches if one didn’t wish to, which also influenced how dwarves interacted with their royalty.

Then again, this attitude was also a remnant of the past. Born from the earth through the powers of the earth elemental emperor, one of the old “gods” of Peolynca before the Origin Gods arrived, dwarves were hardy and stubborn like rock.

Old and mulish, dwarves didn’t live as long as elves or the dragonkins, but they had a far longer lifespan than humans. Although inventive, driven by their strong pride to stay on the cutting edge of the technological race, dwarves could also be a hindrance to themselves due to their greed and, ironically, fear of change. Meaning, many of their current customs were similar to the past.

An important foundation of dwarven culture were the guilds, even when the first dwarven settlements were founded.. A fact the Ankoran Queen knew precisely as she visited them, asking questions of what had happened four days ago when Hestia and company rescued their friends. In pursuit of the truth, she drove many in a corner to see how they reacted.

Guilds, associations created around workers, artisans, and merchants for a specific trade, were important pillars of a city’s economy. Given some authority through the city’s monarch or government, guilds were able to control the flow of trade and work, maintaining it for the city or town for personal gain. They were a method to enforce copyright to prevent low-quality knock-offs, protecting the vested interests of the people involved.

However, at the same time, guilds forced most to join them if they wished to sell or work in the local area. You could only accept Quests and receive the rewards if you were a member of one of the adventurer guilds, you could only sell your products if you joined the merchant guild, and you were only allowed to work as a professional craftsman if you registered yourself with one of the local artisan guilds.

In essence, guilds prevented competition outside of vested interests between two similar, but different, guilds—for example, between a parchment and paper guild. Still, as one was part of a guild, it was also the duty of each member to enforce and hold others to a standard of quality. For a failure would also bring down the prestige of the guild. In theory, that meant quality could be assured.

“… I had heard from merchants that the quality of products had sunk after the Luedbrumdar fiasco with smithmaster Grimnir and manatechnician Broggart,” the Queen began as she inspected a piece of armor, unnerving her guest giver and the workers in the smithy. One of her goals as an inspector was to assure the guilds worked as intended. “However, it seemed like that was a lie. Wonderful work.”

She handed the armor back to the smith, causing him to bellow out a cackle, thanking the queen for her praise. Hearing the Ankoran Queen complimenting his work was a huge honor, as every smith dreamed of having their work used by professionals. Being in the grace of a queen assured his ability to promote his work in the future, aside from bringing prestige to his local guild.

Every society had guilds of some kind, from the draconic lands of Loatryx, to the deep forests of Saelariel, and even in the mountainous landscape of Bole’Taria. However, none had such a strong guild culture than the dwarves of Ankor-Nazta.

To be part of a guild was an honor, while being exiled or fired by one could be described as a great shame, to the point others could shame you. While some rules could be overlooked in human guilds, depending on the situation, similar ones would be heavily enforced by the dwarves. As such, if you were guildless, you were essentially jobless. However, if a guild member were to receive recognition, that would be a reason for the guild to sponsor the elongation of their crust’lock—rock hair.

This system of theirs was also a reason for the dwarf’s continued ingenuity, for competition between artisans, workers, and merchants drove the economy of the dwarves. Aside from being the main regulators of the Davi, the universal currency of Peolynca, dwarves also had a hand with trading with practically most of the races, aside from the saurians of Aelozonia and the demonkins of Bole’Taria. Their love for money would allow their manatech to spread to every corner of Altrust.

So, why were their actions contrasted with this ideal? Why did the Bleidla followers forbid advancements like the gun? What made the dwarves so conservative? Their fear of advancing their society? It was essentially due to their guild system and their strong honor. Whenever a new trade or tech was discovered, a new guild had to be made unless they overlapped with a current one.

A new type of manatech lamp? No problem, just add it to the lamp guild. However, what about a new industry created around a new type of artificer technique involving a specific kind of ore or material? Make a new guild. What would happen if this new technique were better than the current, although established and accepted method? Well, this was where the competition came from.

Older and beloved guilds had more supporters due to a dwarf’s honor and customer loyalty, whereas upstarts would be looked down upon for “disrupting the balance” and “making people jobless.” It was a constant battle between the old and new, but despite all of it, the dwarves still continued to advance… even if one could call it slow.

Nothing of that sort here. Everything looks good enough, and it seemed like most had forgotten what happened four days ago. Like an afterthought… Hopefully, Fugnarus can find something. Then again, I should assert myself. As a member of the Kongun, I do have a duty to otherworlders.

The Kongun clan—a royal clan with a king voted into becoming the current Ankoran King. However, aside from this, they were also known for being the clan of the Revolution Queen—Dravlia Kongun, also known by her divine name of Chihiro.

An otherworlder and reincarnator, brought to this world by an Origin Goddess similar to Hestia. Born into this world with her memories of her past life on Earth, Dravlia was responsible for the “Golden Age of Crustacia.” A renaissance for the Church of Crustacia, which allowed the goddess to gain enough fame and followers to move from fourth to third in the strength ranking, beating Marsven.

Strangely, though, she wasn’t exactly commanded by Crustacia to do so. Born as royalty and marked by Crustacia, Dravlia actually used the wealth of her family for her selfish desires to improve her own living condition by creating and inventing almost to the point of insanity.

As a princess, she didn’t need to worry much about her lifestyle. While it was possible for both male and female royalty to become a hold king or queen, it was usually reserved for the men due to a difference in childhood upbringing.

Boys were groomed to lead by example, going through life as lowly workers, disciplined as warriors, and forced to create and sell like the artisans and merchants which held dwarven society up. This created worthy heirs for the crown, as every royal clan wished to one day receive the honor to lead all dwarven hold rulers as the Ankoran King or Queen—the high ruler with the honor to relocate themselves in the palace of Inkoran-Tazul, the capital of Ankor-Nazta.

On the other hand, girls were prepared to join the Council of Wisewoman, an order of queens and matriarchs to act as their husband’s or sibling’s advisors and voice of reason. They were also the second highest authority within the Church of Crustacia, to the point their word could have more weight compared to their male counterpoint. As such, their childhood involved learning and becoming wise, gathering knowledge and experience to aid others.

However, Dravlia was different. Written in her biography, left unfinished due to her untimely demise to a chronic illness, she recalled her life on Earth. Of her time as a student forced by her parents to study and grow into a “good housewife,” or how she severed her ties from them to pursue her passion in the wake of growing industrial and information technology fields, or how she loved the westernization of Japanese music.

She broke from the tradition of a dwarven princess while hiding her reincarnator title from everyone but her father, mother, and caretaker. She aimed to become neither a queen, nor a wisewoman. She just wanted to create a life for herself, similar to her old one, to the point she spread her interest in music, her idolization of the Japanese warlord Oda Nobunaga, and a fantasized samurai culture.

This was the Revolution Queen, a moniker she earned after pushing her creations despite the constant nagging and complaints of the many guilds. Beloved and idolized by many today, she was in truth hated by those same guilds during her lifetime. The few longbeards, older dwarves with long beards, who knew her and were still alive today could only throw insults at her, despite her apotheosis.

In fact, her role in dwarven society clashed with the second most important god in the Earth Pantheon—Bleidla, the God of Blacksmithing and Searing Volcanoes. Dravlia, now under the Divine name of Chihiro, went against his ideals as a dwarven god who promoted traditional living and culture. As such, the dwarves prayed to her as the Goddess of Change, Ingenuity, and Ambition.

A god who guided many blacksmiths for over 2000 years versus a young goddess who only ascended 200 years ago. History repeated itself, for the dwarves once had to choose between the Earth Elemental Emperor who created them, or the Origin Goddess of Earth who descended before them one day. Did the dwarves learn?

No.

For after Chihiro’s mortal death, many of her inventions and creations were made tabooed and hidden away under the excuse of Bleidla forbidding them. And, while true since Bleidla did dislike Chihiro, it was simply a guess from Bleidla’s blessed, interpreted from his fragmented messages.

While not every creation of Chihiro was taken away, as many had integrated themselves into daily life like the train, minecart transportation system, and the bushido code, other blueprints like the gun were deemed “too dangerous” and different. Ironic, as dwarven smiths created the warhammer mana cannon from the remains of Castle Fatalisa after Yeostar destroyed it during the demon war.

It was a renaissance of Bleidla’s ideology, in a way, as dwarven ingenuity slowed down drastically after Dravlia’s lifetime. Money and tradition spoke louder, after all, and constant inventions would only destroy the old order. People simply didn’t want everything to change, they didn’t want their life to be uprooted so suddenly, even in the name of advancement.

Faith in Bleidla grew, and so people like Broggart, Grimnir’s cousin, were simply undesirable. Then again, being unable to control their feelings and desire to the point they broke a taboo, maybe that lifestyle wasn’t worth defending.

… But, if honor and pride was dialed to the extreme, to the point they prick the feet of a dragon by endangering her friends, what would the dwarves say? Would they side with those they trusted, or would they side with what was just?

“Hmm.”

Four more days had passed, a total of eight days had gone by since Hestia’s visit. Maagneil and the hold king noticed this problem, as both had expected her to appear sooner or later. They had readied themselves for a fight, wanting to kick out the fierce dragon princess for what she did. Maagneil expected revenge for what he did to Grimnir and her friends, while the hold king, Ulshuk, worried for his crown.

The king, despite his royal peerage, had effectively less power and influence than the Luedbrumdar clan. Built upon the citizen’s love for Broggart and his constant inventions and wish to improve the hold, the Luedbrumdar clan had done whatever they could to improve their standings with trade, training more artisans, and building up a military force. This had earned the current leader immense bargaining power.

Responsible for the majority of the hold’s wealth, the Luedbrumdar clan essentially had the hold king wrapped around their hands. In particular, the arrest of the students wasn’t ordered by the king, but was an emotional act by his guards, egged on by the Luedbrumdar clan. The king didn’t even have any power over his soldiers, as the vast majority loved the clan more than they were loyal to the king.

For all that he accomplished, Maagneil showered attention on his son Broggart even as he neglected his second son, Darlion. Even before Broggart was born, the once young clan leader Maagneil had attempted everything to claim the hold. He didn’t want to be king, but he wanted his clan to reign over it. He didn’t want the responsibilities of a hold king, but he yearned for the respect similar to one.

And that was what his talented, but problematic, first son brought him. Although he was jealous of Broggart’s ability to captivate people with his inventions and attitude, he appreciated him for his contribution to the clan. Still, there were many times they clashed, as Broggart refused to become the next clan lead, forcing the aging Maagneil to direct his attention to his second son as the substitute. He believed Broggart only needed to outgrow the fantasy of Chihiro, that he would soon realize how Bleidla was the correct god for him.

Unfortunately, his hopes shattered when the Kongun Clan and the current Ankoran King accused his son and his nephew Grimnir of trespassing into the taboo location of Chihiro’s old workshop where her old and forbidden blueprints were stored. Grimnir lost his [Blacksmith’s Eyes], losing favor with Bleidla, meaning everything was true.

Grimnir took my son away.

Forced to act as the clan leader and a follower of Bleidla, he had to exile the two to keep his position. His second son Darlion cheered, as he had always been jealous of his older brother. Maagneil, driven by pressure of losing his only capable heir and the fact this might mean he could lose the favor he built up all this time, started to turn more aggressive.

He drove the hold king’s to depend on him even further as well as forced his son to go through inhumane training to become not only a capable blacksmith, but also a warrior. He thought he could salvage everything… but he understood when Grimnir sent Broggart’s corpse back to him that he dearly missed his first son.

Grimnir … Griiiiiimniiiiiiiir! May Kronnaz destroy your soul! Let Ilsaphone feast on its remains!

This was how Maagneil had changed from his image of a capable and intelligent leader to a gloomy dwarf with an intimidating big eye. This was how he was connected to the hold king. Now, both had to survive a storm.

The storm of having the Ankoran Queen under their nose, investigating everything. This time, they could not use brute force or their influence to get themselves through a problem. Even then, when they did so against Daichi and the students, they only got themselves in trouble against the third dragon princess herself.

Maagneil, driven by his sheer hatred for his nephew, accepted Grimnir’s challenge to acquire Broggart’s workshop as an act of revenge. He wanted to humiliate Grimnir for taking away his son, for not protecting him and letting him die. He also wanted to show that the Luedbrumdar clan under his new control was better than the past “golden age,” and that the smiths he trained were better than not only Grimnir, but also his own son Broggart.

This was his chance to tell the world how he didn’t need Grimnir and Broggart to make his clan successful.

However, what happened? Not only did he lose to Grimnir, he lost against a piece of armor he had never seen before. He wanted to accuse him of cheating so badly, but that would only make him seem pitiful in the eyes of the entire hold. As such, he went back on the deal, using wording to swindle himself through and challenge him once again, this time, so he could find a way to defeat him. It was to give himself a chance to get revenge.

Unfortunately, his youngest son got himself into a fight with Daichi. At first, he thought this was a boon, he could just get rid of Grimnir’s support cast in this manner, but he had never expected the students to defend their friend’s freedom despite the clear-and-dry situation. In dwarven society, if somebody else burned or cut another’s beard or crust-lock off without proper justification, that was a crime.

Now, their actions had led them here.

The hold king took a small glass of purple liquid from his pocket and poured it into a metal ball. He then attached the ball on a mouth mask, designed to help Inko miners breathe in the depths of a mine. Once he lit up a small fire to burn it up, the king took in the fumes, enjoying it and calming down his jittering hands.

“Ooooooh…” he groaned in relief. “Thank you… the last dosage was a long time ago.”

Maagneil stared at the hold king, smirking for a moment as he once again asserted his authority over “his king.” The purple fluid he got from one of his connections allowed the clan leader to control the king even further.

Drug usage, aside from harmful ones, was generally not frowned upon. Smoking, alcohol, and essence smelling were all accepted as part of a hard worker’s recreation. As long as one didn’t indulge in substances harmful or altered one’s body and mind, then it was mostly allowed.

“So, Maagneil, have you heard of anything? Grimnir and his princess couldn’t just have disappeared, right?” the hold king asked, having regained some form of regality after smoking the unknown drug.

“… Still trapped inside that dungeon, nowhere to be found. I have the whole place watched by my guards, they ain’t getting out of that place without me knowing. Even got measures up against dark spells.”

The two were convinced Hestia and her group were still stuck inside the dungeon, as they did not know about the [Room] runes. No, Maagneil had heard about the portal when Hestia, Tatsuya, Kyouya, and Shay first entered the hold from the Edgesworn grunts. Since he knew the students were void-touched, he understood they could use space-time magic.

However, what he didn’t understand, nor could he imagine, were the possible applications of the magic. A dwarf’s inability to cast magic meant dwarven magic education was abysmal, meaning he didn’t know about [Room]. He knew they managed to open up a portal, but Maagneil just couldn’t imagine anybody opening up portals and traveling through checkpoints to different locals, outside of maybe the gods.

This creative failure meant he couldn’t understand the intricacies of what was happening, but his instincts told him something was off. Why was the Ankoran Queen still around? Where was the Ankoran King? He was supposed to have arrived already, but he was nowhere to be found. If the Queen knew something, why hadn’t she directly confronted Maagneil on it?

The clan leader was confused and anxious. He wanted Hestia to finally show up so he could challenge whatever she threw at him. He had everything prepared, from documents to witnesses. Even if Grimnir and the dragon princess were to fight him through the Ankoran King, he could defend himself, and even reverse it on them.

He was confident he could win.

As such, after taking their time to talk about everything, the hold king suggested they take a stroll to calm down. Ulshuk was dragged into this mess by his subordinates, but he couldn’t punish them since they supported the Luedbrumdar clan’s safety. He didn’t have their loyalty now, and he would not gain that loyalty if he were to raise his hand. As such, all he could do was to help Maagneil to save his own hide.

His wife was stalling the Ankoran Queen, for she knew, if the crime were to be revealed, she would be punished, too. It was the responsibility of the wisewoman, the queen, to prevent such problems from occurring.

Bang!

“Hmm?” Both men stopped as they suddenly heard the sound of a loud bang, drawing their heads towards a group of people walking together on a side street. They looked through the alleyway, noticing among some of the normal dwarves were a few Beats’N’Rock followers.

Damn, rockers … Maagneil frowned as he remembered Rosserto, the leader of a Quarry Beats band called Punker Paradise. The clan leader despised the loud screaming, focused more on the volume of the voice and instruments instead of the rhythmic beating of a well-known miner shanties.

He cursed Chihiro silently for introducing the Quarry Beats, the Beats’N’Rock, to the world, finding it a perturbing evolution of a normal miner shanties. It enraged him even further when he remembered how Rosserto had aided the dragon princess in the rescue of the students and Grimnir. The man was tried, but his crime and resulting punishment were minor, as nobody could pin anything more severe than “disturbing public order.”

He was recently released, so Maagneil assumed Rosserto was performing again. However, as he was shaking his head and turned away, the music played again, but it was unexpectedly quite soft. There was still the drumming and electric string picking he hated, but it actually felt pleasant in his ear.

Although, the moment the drum banging continued as it built up towards a climax, Maagneil scoffed, chiding himself for liking it for a moment. Still, Maagneil’s and the hold king’s interest was piqued. With their guards, they walked with the crowd, until their eyes widened as they noticed people entering through a door. There, they peeked at the sight of something similar to a portal gateway.

They charged through the crowd, pushing people aside as they made in front of it. The loud complaining of the dwarves was quickly ignored as they opened the door, only to be stunned as they saw onyx-glistening stone covering the floor. They stepped in, touched it, only to confirm it was obsidian.

They looked around this waiting room before they followed towards the song of music with the rest of the guests in this weird place. They told their guards to keep their guards up, while they pulled out their weapons and readied their runes. No dwarven warrior worthy of their crust’locks would leave their house without their equipment.

However, when Maagneil entered through the second door, he thought an enlarged eye would pop out of its socket as he gazed around him. Obsidian; everything before him was made from obsidian. At the same time, the place was humongous, to the point he couldn’t help but feel like an ant before this grand cavern. There was barely any light, only a single spotlight in the middle of the place with a few colorful sparkles here and there.

He stared, unbelieving how he saw not only humans but beastmen gathering on the opposite side of where he was. The dwarves around him gathered around areas where seats were placed, in addition to a few stalls manned by humans, selling what looked like baked pastries. Pastries he never saw before, although he was more of a noodle man, himself.

“Urgh!” Finally, though, his eye widened to the point he could physically feel it nudge out of its socket. He groaned, feeling the pain but being unable to close his eyes.

He pulled out a handkerchief, slowly pushing in the widened left eye back in place.

“Our work upon we stake our life ♫

With one chance to fulfill ♫

A misfortune, taketh it all away ♫

How we cry for death’s will ♫”

“Ukrak!” he cried out as he heard that soft, angelic voice sing, only to have his eye nearly pop out again! He couldn’t stop, everything that was happening was giving him nothing but a terrible premonition!

[Music Resonation]?! He heard the Divine System speak in his mind, informing him of an unknown status effect. His confusion delayed his thinking, only for the hold king to pull the cowering dwarf up, pointing at the singular lit up location in the middle of this cavern.

There, he saw not only one, but two of the people he didn’t want to meet again. One was a dragonewt girl with crimson hair dressed in a black-white, frilly dress, wearing black and red make-up to accentuate her slit eyes and lips. The other was a dwarf with an axe-head guitar, playing along three other dwarves to accompany the girl as she sang.

“And all that’s left: an unfinished work ♫

With nothing for you to remember ♫

But will that really lay me to rest? ♫

Enough I say, I shall grab on this last ember ♫”

Strangely, even from here, he could hear her voice and the music clearly. In fact, it was neither loud nor silent, it was just perfect. The soft rocker music went well with the girl’s high-pitched voice, giving it a perfect harmony the dwarf had never really experienced before. In fact, most dwarves would never listen to such music. To them, this was too human, or elven… but the gravitas of the lyrics…

“Reincarnation, I take my second chance ♫

I can’t give up, nothing to do but advance ♫

Even if I forget it all, my soul will continue my prance ♫”

It was compelling. She sang each word slow enough for a first time listener to listen, and while she did raise her voice here and there, it never went overboard like the Beats’N’Rock of the Punker Paradise. However, just like their songs, this one delivered a strong, realistic message, instead of how most miner shanties were meant to keep morale up.

I feel drawn in! Fuck!

“Men!” Maagneil shouted as he finally shook off the confusion, raising his hand up to get the attention of not only his guard but the hold king’s guards. “Capture that dragonewt! She’s the dragon princess!”

Even if he had never seen Hestia’s dragonewt form before, he could guess very well from her crimson hair and scales. He had heard her description from his subordinates already.

Without delay, the bodyguards raised their weapons, annoying the hold king as his soldiers were listening to Maagneill. They slowly made their way as the dwarves around them complained, nearly throwing their food and drinks at them, before they noticed it was the Luedbrumdar clan leader and their hold king. None wanted to stop them any longer… outside of a single adventurer.

“Out of the way, vagrant!” one of the guards, a samurai ordered as he stared down the beastman-dwarf, however, the dwarf in question simply shook his head. As such, the vagrant aimed his blade at the man. “This is an obstruction of justice in the name of the hold king of Gazahan-Orn! Ya will move, or I will cut ya down and slog you into a cell! Beat it!”

“I refuse.” The adventurer’s eyes then widened as he released his aura, stifling the guards, causing them to take steps back, as they couldn’t breathe under the pressure.

Maagneil and Ulshuk felt the intensity too, but while Maagneil was confused at who this person was, Ulshuk’s eyes widened as his mouth fell agape. As royalty, he knew very well what this aura was. After all, he had the same one. The moment he realized this, he stared into the dwarf hybrid’s eyes, only to remember where he had seen them before.

“H-High King?!” the hold king shouted as he fell onto his butt, sweating profusely as he shivered like a scared child. “N-No, no, no, no, no!”

What?! Maagneil bellowed inside his mind, staring down this adventurer from top to bottom. To him, he looked like nothing but an adventurer.

To most dwarves, they might know they had a high king, but most had never seen him before if they never visited the capital of the Kongun clan’s home hold. Maagneil, even though he usually visited the capital for business, rarely ever got the chance to see the Ankoran King in person. The same applied to his wife.

However, Ulshuk knew. He knew, alright. He had seen his high king multiple times for feasts, not to mention, he voted the man into office! How could he not know his king was born from a pantherae woman—a panther beastman. This knowledge cursed him, as he tried to stumble back on his feet to flee, only for his heart to drop.

There, in front of him, was not only his wife, but also the Ankoran Queen. His wife, crestfallen, while the high queen stared down at him as if he was nothing but filth. She then turned her face up, smiling as she looked at her husband.

“Had ya fun, bubby?”

“Aye, me love. Feels good to act and be treated like some wanderer, again. The soba and noodle soups taste far better when the chefs ain’t scared they’ll burn ya tongue.”

The wisewoman nodded in satisfaction, glad to hear her rowdy husband managed to have his fun. She then turned back to the hold king, her business far from done. “Hold King Ulshuk, I will have you stay here with me. We have much to talk about. And, Maagneil, I advise you to listen to our dignified young lass sing. She has something to say.”

“So listen well, let those tears dry for me ♫

Understand my wish, let those tears dry for me ♫

Time will continue on, live for my memories ♫”

Maagneil turned around as the song ended, followed by the wild clapping and cheering from the human-beastman side opposite of his, while the dwarves on his side bellowed out “Encore!” and “Rocks on, beatles!” They were filling this whole cavern in wild chanting, with some of them calling out the singer’s name.

Hestia.

“Thank you, everybody!” the crimson-haired girl called out. “Welcome, welcome to the Obsidian Orchestra, my grand stage from which I sing and dance for all of you! Today, leave your stress and worries outside this subspace, and allow yourself to submerge your soul with my songs! Let yourself dream and release the wild fire inside you!”

“Woooooooooooo!” Even wilder chanting erupted.

“Please, not just me! A grand applause to my collab partners, Punker Paradise!”

“Wraaaaahaaaaaaha!” Rossert on the guitar played a small solo as he laughed, arching his body back in a pose. This immediately caused his fans to follow up, copying his exact movement to the tee.

Once the commotion calmed down as the girl and rockers gestured for them to quiet down, the girl then moved towards the direction of the dwarves she was singing for the first time. “Citizens of Gazahan-Orn, my name is Hestia Atsuko Kargryxmor, third dragon princess of Kargryx, and your idol for the day. Thank you very much for coming today!”

Many of the dwarves didn’t know Hestia, although some had heard about the tragic news of the eighth dragon child’s egg having disappeared. Those who were in the know understood from her statement that she safely made it back, but were confused how she looked like an adolescent despite the news being from last year.

However, what came afterwards shocked people even further. Speaking in Japanese, the girl bowed her body in a 90 degree angle, perfectly mimicking how Chihiro followers would apologize to each other.

“Moushiwake gozaimasen!” (I’m sorry)

Japanese. To the ears of the many soba and noodle masters, that was without a doubt Japanese. Introduced by the Revolution Queen, noodles made from the dwarven tazlok wheat were a delicacy. Quick and simple, it was perfect for dwarven mining culture, as they could not only hydrate but fill their stomachs up with a savory meal, even in the depths of a mine.

As such, to become one, these noodle makers learned Japanese, as that was how the Revolution taught everybody how to make them. Stubborn as always, the dwarves disliked change, and even after 200 years, they kept the old teaching methods as it already worked. Why change when it wasn’t broken?

So, they knew what she said. “I’m sorry,” but in the most respectful manner possible where she took full responsibility for a wrong. So, they were confused. Why was this girl apologizing?

“I was the dragon who caused that commotion eight days ago. I apologize, I admit that wasn’t the best manner to conduct myself. Please, may I ask for your forgiveness?”

Now, the dwarves were even more confused, but before they could respond, Hestia raised her body, dodging their questions and leers by speaking as charismatically as she could.

“However, I did all of that for a reason, even if it isn’t an excuse. I came to the hold to reunite with my friends, but found them tortured to extract information from them by criminals. In a moment of fear, I charged in, trying my best not to unsettle everybody as I rescued them. Still, I scared all of you. For that, I take full responsibility!”

Her quick and decisive decision took the heat from the many surprised dwarves’ faces. Her quick answer made it impossible for them to complain, but that wasn’t where she stopped.

“As an apology, I wish to entertain you. As you might have already heard, the pastries, beer, and other things you can buy are free of charge! In fact, everybody may partake without paying today!”

“Wooooooooooooooo!”

“Three cheers for Princess Hestia!”

“All is forgiven!”

Hestia earned their apology… although the girl herself was quietly screaming in her head, as she knew how much this entire operation was costing her. She was already “poor” after buying her [Crystal of the Divine System], but now? Now she was in debt.

However, at this very moment, she didn’t stop. She couldn’t, for the show had to go on even if there was no profit to be made. She darkened the spotlight above her, before letting one light up Maagneil and the other …

“Today, for everybody’s entertainment, we won’t just have a concert, but also a blacksmithing contest! You Gazahan-Orn already know them, but let me introduce them for our guests on the right side!” Hestia then pointed at the side of the humans and beastmen, the Artorian, Estralia, and Yeosian side. “Griiiimnir!”

You! Maagneil felt like he was about to explode as the sight of Grimnir came into view.

“And on the other side, Luedbrumdar clan’s leader, Maaaaagneil!”

Grimnir! Grimnir! You hide behind that gal?! Larrunda! Grrrriiiiiiimniiiiiiir!

Maagneil had fallen for the obsidian trap.

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