Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World-Chapter 444: The Dwarf

TL: Etude Translations

The polished copper mirror reflected the image of a short, stocky figure. This reflection seemed like a solid stone stump with limbs attached to it.

Soon, the “stone stump” began to move. The reflection in the mirror gradually enlarged until it was completely occupied by a fluffy, large face.

Imar Mason carefully pinched small tufts of his beard with each hand, gently twisting them, then intertwining them into each other, forming a small braid in his hands.

Holding the end of the braid with one hand, he skillfully tied it tightly with a short piece of thread.

“Oh! Look at this brave and extraordinary face. Not only is it brave and extraordinary, but it’s also very fortunate, for it belongs to Imar Mason, a standout even among dwarves.”

The dwarf, gripping his chin and looking rather pleased with himself, rotated his head from side to side, admiring his reflection in the mirror.

“To celebrate the thirtieth anniversary of this brave face and its great master, it’s time to add another braid!”

As he spoke, he grabbed another tuft of beard and began to braid it.

Suddenly, the entrance of the tent was flung open.

“By the hammer above!”

Another dwarf, similar in stature to Imar and with a rosy complexion, entered.

His clothes were simpler than Imar’s, but his voice was louder, resonating like the ringing of a bell.

“Is the only purpose of your life to fiddle with your beard?”

“Damn it, Balash, can’t I have a bit of freedom on my birthday? This is dignity, dignity, you understand? It’s something a dwarf of royal blood must have.”

Imar, disturbed, angrily turned and shouted at the intruder.

“Listen, my foolish brother, put aside your damned royal dignity for now. There’s work to be done outside. The chief’s son has arrived, and you need to greet him.”

Balash, unfazed, ruthlessly assigned the task to Imar.

Imar cried out in frustration, “By the hammer above, not that arrogant fool again. Why must I deal with him?”

“He is the ‘prince’ of this tribe, and so are you. It’s a fitting match,” Balash pointed out, silently adding in his mind that Imar was also an arrogant fool.

“To hell with you too!” Imar roared.

“Shut up. I’m the leader of this expedition, and this is an order, not a request.”

Balash, uncompromising, watched as Imar grudgingly lifted the tent flap and left.

Watching the angry figure leave, Balash shrugged his shoulders helplessly and followed him out of the tent.

“Hmm? Humans!”

As soon as he stepped out, he noticed a somewhat “delicate” figure among the orcs. The human had a scraggly, thin face with a beard, curly brown hair naturally cascading over his shoulders, and piercing eyes set deep in their sockets. He wore a brown, patched, long leather coat and old boots, resembling a down-and-out adventurer returning from the wilderness. 𝘙𝙖ℕỌ₿ΕŠ

At that moment, this disheveled adventurer was standing in front of his stall, handling an iron sword meant for trade.

Upon noticing Balash’s arrival, he promptly placed the sword back on the stall.

“Hello, respected friend. I must say, your swords are really fantastic.”

He bowed politely, displaying a friendly demeanor, but could not suppress the curiosity and scrutiny in his eyes—a common reaction of most humans upon first seeing a dwarf.

“Human, what do you want?” Balash asked, neither warmly nor coldly.

“If you see something you like, you can exchange it with something of equal value, or use gold or silver coins. We accept those as well,” Balash said.

Stanford smiled. A dwarf with an angry demeanor had just rushed past him, seemingly difficult to approach, fitting the stereotype of dwarves being quick-tempered.

The dwarf in front of him seemed more approachable.

“I’m not here for trading. I’m looking for a guide for my adventure team.”

“A guide? You should ask the orcs of this tribe. They are very familiar with this forest. I’m here to do business.”

“Oh no!” Stanford shook his head. “The Blood Bull Tribe can’t meet my requirements. I hope to find a guide who can lead us across the Rocky Mountains.”

“Ha!” Balash laughed, understanding why this human was standing in front of his stall.

“Then I’m even less able to help.” Balash spread his hands exaggeratedly. “If you’re not here to trade, please go elsewhere and don’t hinder my business.”

“Don’t be so definitive,” Stanford said, handing over a box. “This is a gift for you. Please make an offer. As long as you can help us cross the Rocky Mountains, we can provide a good reward.”

“No means no. No dwarf would lead outsiders into dwarf territory. Besides, from your dress and accent, I can tell you’re not a native of this forest. You’re a human from the south.”

Balash was adamant in his refusal.

“Do you have a… bad impression of humans from the south? Please tell me, maybe I can explain,” Stanford inquired.

Balash waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t want to discuss this topic.”

Stanford reluctantly took out an item from the box. It was a porcelain vase, identical to the one gifted to Chief Assoye. The polished surface of the vase reflected light, dazzling Balash for a moment.

“Look! Such a delicate piece of art. Mr. Dwarf, I hope you can consider this gift…”

“Who said I wanted to accept this gift?”

The dwarf’s gaze lingered on the vase only for a moment before looking away.

“It looks nice but is impractical. It would break upon impact, right? We dwarves prefer something more solid and durable. In my eyes, a pottery vase is a hundred times better than this.”

“Well, you have a point.” Stanford, slightly embarrassed by the setback, took back the porcelain vase.

“See, I told you these mountain dwellers are stubborn.”

A voice came from behind. Stanford turned around to see the young orc Finn.

“My friend, why don’t you give me that vase? I’ll guide you around the Rocky Mountains and back to Ordo through the Nerodan Valley. I’ve traveled this route many times with trading caravans,” Finn said, having coveted the gift to the chieftain at the banquet.

“Uh… that’s too far. I think I’ll keep looking for someone else.”

Stanford politely declined Finn’s offer, leaving him visibly disappointed.

Balash, listening to their conversation, sneered inwardly. Keep looking, he thought. If you can find a dwarf willing to guide you, I’ll consider it a loss.

As expected, Stanford couldn’t find anyone willing to be a guide in the temporary market set up by the dwarves.

He returned to his lodging with a heavy heart to inform his companions. It seemed they had to resort to their backup plan.