CHAPTER 153

Tall and broad shoulders, he exuded an air of nobility that would make one think he was indeed of noble birth just by his appearance alone. 

But what catches people's attention more than all these things is his ears.

The long, pointed ears that humans cannot have were showing who they were.

"It feels as if they've recently been in a war."

"The bloodstains and scorch marks scattered around all seem fresh."

"Lord Baradis, is it possible to find traces of the Mother of World Tree in a place like this?"

Though it seemed like whispers, the pronunciation and rhythm were clear. 

The guards looked at them in amazement as they heard the language of the elves for the first time, but the only conversation they exchanged was an ominous first impression of Deomar.

"...Knight Vlad said that memories of the Mother World Tree were brought from this city."

Despite the rangers' negative reports, Baradis chose to believe. 

Vlad had clearly stated that the memories of the Mother World Tree began from Deomar, so if there was anyone to trust, it was the words of Vlad, who had protected the young world tree.

"We've been expecting you. The family head has just granted permission for your entry."

The language of the elves can be heard softly. 

Duncan approached the clearly visible border between the two worlds and opened his mouth with a smile on his face.

"Please, come in. I'll guide you."

Did he perhaps know?

That he was the first person in the history of the empire to open the door for elves.

With Duncan's command, the gate that seemed to need to be replaced began to open little by little.

However, even though Deomar's gate was shabby and creaking, its movement was meaningful enough.

"....Indeed, you were right."

The city of Deomar began to open for the elves. 

As they beheld the city of humans for the first time, the eyes of the rangers began to gleam.

Obviously, the city of humans they were seeing for the first time was full of unfamiliar aspects, but the smell of the air floating around the city had a familiarity that somehow reminded them of Ausrina.

----?

And this is where the familiarity begins. Deomar's white mansion.

Perched atop a hill, a white snake raised its head.

The snake, which was visible even from a distance, seemed to be making a puzzled expression towards the elves.

"Welcome to Deomar, my elven friends."

Baradis nodded slightly as he listened to Duncan's words.

It was their first encounter with a human city.

Although they were very nervous due to the unfamiliarity, Deomar was clearly welcoming them.

Like the swaying white tail towards the elves who recognized it.

※※※※

In the darkness that pervaded the city, there stood an old tavern nestled among the shadows.

The man with scars on his face leaning against the shadows between the taverns nodded as he saw Vlad approaching from afar.

"Thanks for coming, Marcus."

"Now, it's just Poznań."

"...Aren't you confusing things by changing names like that?"

Marcus, who had now become Poznań, simply smiled coldly at Vlad's playful jab.

"That's enough to settle our deal from back then."

"Got it. I will no longer be condescending about what happened during Charles' time."

Poznań simply looked away from Vlad, who shrugged his shoulders as if he understood.

The audacious fellow who dared to negotiate with the commander of the undercover unit.

Even the two successors of Bayezid would not dare to manipulate him so easily.

"Use it well and return it."

"Got it. Marcus."

Vlad put the crow Marcus had given him in his arms and wandered into the bar in front of him as if nothing had happened.

It was as if he didn't care at all what was waiting inside.

"Just like I heard, he really is a guy who doesn't listen."

He told Vlad his current name was Poznań, but Vlad chose to address him as Marcus.

The nameless man realized that he would be remembered as Marcus for a long time, as much as the young knight's stubbornness.

"Marcus has a nice ring to it, I suppose."

The man who should not be remembered suddenly had a long drawn cigarette in his mouth.

※※※※

A brilliant golden color was shining on the glass of wine the owner was holding out.

Beer is a specialty of the West and the pride of this bar.

Vlad's tongue licked his dry lips as he looked at alcohol for the first time in his life.

The sensory memory of his days at Rose's Smiles spoke through the scent.

This alcohol with floating white bubbles must taste amazing.

"Talking about dwarves?"

"Yeah, dwarves. Short and stout fellows."

Though his gaze remained fixed on the beer, Vlad's outstretched hand gestured towards his waist.

Observing Vlad's gestures as if confirming his stature, the bar owner merely tilted his.

"But why do dwarves suddenly..."

"They're here to buy and sell. Dwarves, you know."

With Vlad's casually uttered words, the atmosphere around them seemed to instantly chill.

From the bewildered expressions of the bar owner to the serving staff carrying plates, even the men slumped over tables as if intoxicated—all turned their gaze towards Vlad with a different intensity.

"I came here knowing everything. So let's not make this any harder than it needs to be."

However, even as all eyes bore into him, Vlad simply lifted his glass in silence.

A knight of Bayezid born in the darkness of the back alleys.

In Vlad's nonchalant gesture of raising the beer, there was a sticky warning only those of his ilk could recognize.

"From now on, I'll ask the questions, you just answer. It shouldn't be too difficult."

Even the slave trader, who had faced all manner of challenges, couldn't hide his tension in the face of Vlad's commanding presence.

A scent of a different caliber, far from his youthful appearance.

Now, the presence of Vlad had become a vast and sprawling world that even the darkest alleyways couldn't contain.

"I heard you've got dwarves locked up in this warehouse here."

Although Vlad had been ordered to take a vacation, he still came here to complete his duties.

Although he was Bayezid's knight, he was Josef's knight.

Vlad, who had left Deomar and reached Nassau, received a small mission from his master, who was bedridden, and came here.

"I have no idea what you're talking about... Aaargh!"

"I usually start with the fingers, but I'm a bit busy now. So, let's go for the wrist instead."

Behind the casual voice, a wrist flew off into the distance.

The slave trader, who was disguised as the owner of the bar, was screaming loudly due to the belated pain, but his gang members were not able to easily attack Vlad.

"I want you to know that next to the remaining hand is the head. That's the Shoara way."

Behind the nonchalant smile, his blue eyes glinted ominously.

The slave trader, who was struggling to hold on to his severed wrist, was only then able to recognize who the man in front of him was.

"V-Vlad of Shoara! Blue eyes!"

".....What's with the 'blue eyes'? Seriously."

In the north, his name was spoken with reverence and pride, but in the west, it instilled fear.

"So, about those dwarves. Are they here or not?"

Vlad's name, which could hardly be more different from his appearance, carried various meanings as it spread across the continent.

※※※※

The reason why the cavalry of the west is famous.

It's not just their excellent horsemanship and the quality of their mounts that make them renowned, but rather the lightweight yet sturdy weapons they carry, a fact that no one can deny.

Arrows that fly farther.

Shields and armor that are stronger.

A small difference in weapons can make an important difference on the battlefield.

All of these were plundered from the blood and sweat of dwarves.

Therefore, like the dwarves currently imprisoned behind bars, trade with them was actively carried out in the West.

"...".

The man behind the bars had even his beard, the pride of the dwarves, cut off.

The muscles exposed on the skinny body looked pitiful.

Whip marks littered his back, testament to the treatment he'd endured.

Clang—

As the heavy sound of a lock echoed from above, the tense breathing of the imprisoned youngsters became audible.

Dark underground dungeons and iron chains that bound hands and feet.

And the countless abuses that occurred within had been enough to break even the strongest dwarven spirits.

"Let's see... Bulkaru? Bulkanu?"

"...It's Bulkanu."

A man descended with a creaking plank.

Though it was still daytime, the scent of beer emanating from the young man was palpable.

With his jaunty demeanor, he seemed as troublesome as his yellow hair suggested.

Well, it's no surprise he's rotten to the core at such a young age, loitering around slaves.

"Hmm. Alright. Bulkanu. Fine."

"...?"

However, as the blonde young man approached, Bulkanu could smell something foul hidden beneath the beer scent — the unmistakable smell of blood.

"Is it really just dwarves here? I heard he was a specialist dwarven trader."

As expected from the information Marcus gave, the cages stacked like boxes were full of dwarves.

Dwarves packed tightly in a space so small they could hardly move.

Among them, Vlad noticed the young dwarves and quietly tilted the beer glass he was holding.

"······I do not accept your offer. If you release the children here, we will cooperate in making weapons..."

"I'll release them all."

It starts off cool and goes down the throat smoothly.

It was definitely a cheaper drink than whiskey, and Vlad felt like he was going to fall in love with beer, which tasted for the first time.

"What?"

"But there's a condition, Bulkanu."

Grabbing a nearby chair, Vlad tossed aside his beer glass and locked eyes with Bulkanu, the dwarf.

Finally, he found them. Dwarves.

"I am Vlad of Shoara. A knight who works under Josef Bayezid, the second son of the Bayezid family."

The sound of the beer glass hitting the ground was loud.

Accompanying it was a bundle of keys, stained with blood, in Vlad's hand.

Offer and choice.

From Vlad's lips flowed the words commanded by Josef.

"He wishes to establish a connection with the Dwarven Liberation Front."

In the cramped underground prison where even the air seemed to struggle to enter, there was a letter and a single crow passing through the barely opened bars.

"If you swear to bring back an answer to this letter, all the dwarves here will be free."

The dwarves were trapped in narrow bars, and Josef was trapped in a weak body since birth.

They needed a way out to survive, even if it meant escaping to a larger world.

"And this is just a question I'm asking."

The first glass, brimming with obligation, was for Josef. The second, filled with the sinking golden color, was for the voice.

Seeing Bulkanu taken aback by the sudden proposal, Vlad decided to bring forth another question he had kept hidden inside.

"Is there any legend about the Sword Master on the island you reside?"

Vlad hadn't forgotten.

The agreement he made with the voice back then to find his name.

The traces of the Sword Master in the elf village clearly pointed towards the west, where the dwarves were.

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