Dolores couldn't help but have many questions about me.
After all, I was the one who brought Sun Dwarf equipment. And a Descendant of Fire, no less.
How I overcame the trials, and where I found the books.
She couldn't help but wonder what kind of person I was.
However, she seemed to be the type to care more about results than process.
"Watch Ruby for a bit."
Since the results were good, she was the type to set aside questions about the process.
Dolores hurriedly packed her things and dumped the sleeping kid on me entirely.
"Me?"
Why?
I mean, what did she see in me to entrust a child to me?
"Ruby is still too young to enter the Tower."
So what does that have to do with me...
"I'll be back within today, so don't worry."
Then Dolores stopped her hands that had finished packing and turned to look at me.
"You'll take good care of her, right?"
For a moment, Dolores's eyes precisely fixed on me.
I endured her gaze for a moment and chose a suitably evasive answer.
"...If she doesn't listen, may I discipline her a bit? I don't really like children."
"......"
Dolores did not answer.
Instead, she stared into my eyes a moment longer, then slowly smiled as if satisfied.
"That's a first."
Huh?
"You lying to me."
Did she discern truth from lies again?
That seems like a really convenient ability. It'll be impossible to make vague excuses from now on.
In the end, I was caught.
"Since this one is cute, I'll let it slide. Take good care of her."
Rustle.
Dolores lightly brushed up the sleeping Ruby's bangs.
Smack.
She lightly kissed her forehead and went outside.
Click.
The door closed.
Inside the cabin, only I and the sleeping kid remained.
My estimated age, probably thirteen.
Ruby, sleeping in front of me, was probably thirteen too.
Since I had neither a daughter nor even a niece.
It was a moment when my head started to ache.
***
The headache was one thing.
But I still had to do what needed to be done.
Equipment that surprised and flustered Dolores that much.
The elite blacksmiths of the Sun Dwarves, known as the Descendants of Fire.
It would be best to learn more about the equipment they made and about them.
I can't leave the cabin anyway.
Because I have to take care of the kid when she wakes up.
"Yuna."
As quietly as possible.
"Crawling, please."
I had looked into it once, but there was something... off.
It seemed like a more precious profession than I knew.
[Keyword → Descendant of Fire / Sun Dwarf Elite Blacksmith]
That's good, but...
"Can you unlock the authority like last time and let me go deeper?"
[......]
[......]
The search screen on the hologram blinked quite a lot.
It was usually quick, but it seemed there was a lot of data.
[It seems there are almost no Descendants of Fire left now.]
"...I see."
[And this was scraped from unofficial sources, not official records, you know?]
[Sixty years ago, a Sun Dwarf wrote something just before his death.]
[It seems only those in the know knew, but the Elite Blacksmith Association must have recorded it in the community.]
A deathbed statement in the community?
Well, seeing that the Descendant of Fire's manual is there too... the community's perception and concepts must be different from mine.
On the hologram, text that looked like a scan of yellowed parchment appeared.
-----------------------------
Forget trials, no one even swings a hammer themselves anymore. In front of the Dwarf Company's mass-production machine, they input blueprints, insert minerals, and press a button.
What comes out are swords and armor marked with mass-produced patterns.
People believe that is ours.
No.
That belongs to the machine, not to us.
True blacksmiths... are gone now.
-----------------------------
Seems like this place needs a Luddite movement too.
The only difference is, from the dwarves' perspective, things seem to have become more convenient.
So that's why the demand for Descendant of Fire equipment, not mass-produced gear, has increased.
That makes sense.
Of course, even if demand is high, it seems there's no one to make them.
The difference in performance too... they say the tier changes as the Descendant of Fire grows.
I should be able to grow too.
"Open."
I stretched out and opened the Sun Dwarf metallurgy book.
Then I have no choice but to grow.
Since reading is what remains...
I calmly read through the manuals.
***
Moving between floors in the residential area, not the Tower's climbing area, wasn't very difficult.
Dolores stepped onto the Tower's inter-floor transporter.
The destination was Floor 88, the floor ruled by the Sun Dwarves.
Verification of equipment could be done at the general Dwarf verification offices on every fifteenth floor, but.
Since the equipment was what it was and the pattern was what it was, it had to be done by a superior dwarf at the main branch.
Whirr...
The moment the transporter's light faded, heat rushed in from all sides.
"......Phew."
No matter how many times I see it, it's a sight I can't get used to.
First, the overwhelming height of the ceiling—or rather, the absence of a ceiling.
Looking up, there is no end in sight. Everywhere the eye reaches, there are bridges, pulleys, air ducts, and more bridges.
Golden furnaces hang among the endless framework.
And below, looking down from the platform, a river flows between the platforms.
It was lava.
The artery of Floor 88, which outsiders commonly call the Dwarf River.
Normally, the river should flow, be distributed to furnaces throughout the framework, and merge again.
...It had to be that way.
Now, the river flows and heads to exactly one place.
The large grayish-white building visible far away.
The Sun Dwarf Company.
Only there.
In a forge this size, the sound of people hammering is nowhere to be heard.
Instead, only machine sounds come from all directions. The sound of a press striking minerals, the sound of a fabricator turning gears, the sound of conveyor belts.
She stepped on the platform, listening to those machine sounds.
Actually, she didn't dislike this place. Her always cold body felt like it melted even a little here.
In that sense, the gloves Lionel gave her were, in fact, already...
Click.
That's when.
Someone was walking toward her from the edge of the platform.
"...Lady Dolores."
"Hello."
"Why did you come without contacting us? I was surprised."
Clothing completely out of place for the background—a suit.
However, his physique was unmistakably that of a dwarf.
"I didn't come today because I had business with the Dwarf Company."
"...I see."
The Sun Dwarves are a proud race that values tradition, so coming out to greet anyone, even Dolores, is unimaginable.
However, the Dwarf Company is different. It means that for a ruler of another floor, they would at least come to see them off.
I don't know the details, but the dwarves are said to have split into two factions.
The traditionalists and the industrialists.
The suit in front of me probably signifies the industrialists.
Actually, it wasn't any of her business.
"Then, may I ask what brings you here?"
"......"
Instead of answering, Dolores smiled brightly.
"...I hope you achieve what you desire."
The dwarf, understanding her meaning, bowed lightly and withdrew.
Dolores paid no more attention and walked on the platform.
The destination was the verification office.
Passing the mass-production line, a corner where light barely reached.
The verification office was there.
Creak...
A wooden door worn by use, different from before.
Actually, this felt a bit closer to the Sun Dwarves.
Opening the door, the smell of coal dust hit her.
Scents scorched by fire.
"......"
From inside the room, someone slowly raised his head toward her.
An old dwarf.
His beard was graying, and calluses were embedded in every knuckle.
There was no suit anywhere. A worn apron. And on the apron, an engraved sun pattern.
"Who goes there?"
"I came to request verification."
"...Mass-production quality control is over there..."
The long-bearded dwarf bowed his head and turned away.
But Dolores immediately added.
"It's verification for equipment made by a Descendant of Fire."
"......"
He, who was turning away, stopped.
He rose from his chair and looked at Dolores.
His eyes, which had just been lifeless like a burnt-out wick, now shone brightly.
Dolores took out the gloves in response.
"This is that blacksmith's equipment..."
"It's a fake."
The dwarf shook his head as soon as he saw the gloves.
"The carbon marks on the surface, the tanned condition of the leather. The processing date is at most a day or two ago. There has been no new Descendant of Fire capable of making such gloves in the past few decades, so that is definitely a fake."
Leaving no room for rebuttal.
A firm answer that seemed unworthy of rebuttal.
Dolores also found that answer quite grating for a moment.
"You came a long way, but it's a shame."
The dwarf's pupils slowly sank.
He had spoken of his dying race's situation twice with his own mouth, so he couldn't feel good.
The woman before him was a famous person.
She should have understood by now.
But Dolores had no intention of going back.
"Verifying it isn't a difficult task."
Clink.
A pouch full of coins was placed on the table.
"The role of a verification office is verification; I wasn't asking you for its authenticity."
"......Ha."
'This is why nobles...'
To interpret her meaning, it was this.
I came here to get a verification.
So don't get ahead of yourself and just do your job.
Dolores wasn't exactly good-natured to begin with.
The dwarf's sympathy and pity flew away in an instant.
'Even with good intentions, they don't listen, these nobles... Well, at least I earned today's drink money.'
Climbers were always like this. Nobles even more so.
The dwarf said no more and snatched the gloves, placing them on the workbench.
Appraising equipment is simple.
It analyzes through an Appraisal Machine containing ancestral wisdom.
The complex devices and special magic embedded in it recognize the engraving and distinguish authenticity.
Whir...
The machine operates.
I don't even know how long it's been since I ran this.
There's no need to use a machine to filter out fakes. The ones that came in lately were done with a single touch.
So this was also a formality. A formality to please the noble lord.
Until then.
The old dwarf, Puram, hadn't given the gloves a single glance.
As he thought that and absentmindedly looked down at the gloves.
"......?"
The sun pattern engraved in gray caught his eye.
He felt something was off.
'...Root.'
The beginning of all patterns. The first pattern an apprentice learns to engrave.
Puram's brow furrowed. It was strange.
Those who dare to pass off fakes of the Descendant of Fire all imitate the flashy, famous artisan's pattern.
The artisan's pattern is essentially a luxury brand logo.
But who? What kind of madman would engrave a counterfeit's logo as the most humble apprentice pattern?
What purpose could that serve?
The machine began to run.
The magic circuit engraved in the Appraisal Machine heated up blue.
It projected the gloves and formed an image.
And the appraisal result soon.
Was printed on the paper in the output device next to it.
Ziiiing...
Thump.
Puram felt, perhaps, his own heart beating.
Something was different. His heart, which had no reason to beat while he grew old in a back room staring only at fakes.
Zing.
The output device pushed out the paper.
Puram couldn't wait any longer and snatched it.
And the result was.
-----------------------------
[Match Rate 100/100]
[Descendant of Fire]
-----------------------------
[To the descendant who took their first step.]
[Clumsy, but certainly hot.]
[Please, do not cool down.]
[If ever you lose your way, go to Voldr's workshop——]
— Creator of the Appraisal Machine, 7th Wise Craftsman Voldr —
-----------------------------
Match Rate 100. The gloves before his eyes are genuine.
Puram's vision immediately blurred.
This Appraisal Machine was made by the previous Wise Craftsman, a great man who stood at the end of the Descendants of Fire.
Hundreds of years ago, he designed the circuits himself, engraved the markings, and finished the final hammering with his own hands.
But this was the first time he saw that such a phrase, such a hidden arrangement, was inside it.
Because for decades, it had never once distinguished a genuine article.
Genuine Descendant of Fire equipment.
Had been placed on this machine for the first time in decades.
"Uh..."
It was a perfect genuine article.
"...Uwaaaaaaah!!!"
Puram shouted as soon as he saw the inspection paper.
As soon as Dolores saw his reaction, she felt she knew how the result went.
Thump.
Her heart was beating too.
She didn't know exactly, but that kid really might have performed a miracle.
And then.
Zing.
After the verification result.
The appraisal result was also output.
"Uwaaaaaah!!"
Leaving Puram still carrying on like that, Dolores picked up the printed appraisal report alone.
Puram was groaning behind her, but it no longer reached her ears.
Feeling the freshly printed paper slowly cooling, Dolores turned over the appraisal report.
And.
-----------------------------
[Apprentice Blacksmith's Warm Gloves][★☆☆☆☆][Unique Equipment]
-----------------------------
[Because I made it carefully, thinking of Dolores...]
- Apprentice Blacksmith L -
-----------------------------
In a corner of the paper.
A single line quietly written.
"......?"
Apprentice Blacksmith L, Lionel.
That Lionel made it for me.
He said he made it carefully, thinking of me.
"Pfft..."
She covered her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled elegantly.
'What did I even do for him...'
How long had it been since she received a gift made 'carefully' for her by someone?
And without any price.
She couldn't even remember well. The word itself felt unfamiliar.
"Pfft hehehe..."
Her cheeks flushed faintly.
"...Thank you."
A little.
It felt like receiving a confession.