“And what about magic?” he asked next. “Do dwarves use it?”
“Magic?” Mimi echoed, tilting her head. “You mean that weird power humans and demons use, right? No one in our kingdom knows how to use it. I don’t think anyone’s ever seen it done in person. Even if someone did figure it out, I doubt we’d be able to use it.”
So, the dwarves were far behind in magical arts. That, too, was valuable information.
“But we don’t really need magic,” she added with a small grin. “We’ve got machines.”
“Machines?” Belamus echoed, his brow lifting in interest as he leaned in slightly, curious where this was going.
“Yeah,” she said brightly. “Stuff like drills to dig through rock, or carriages that move on their own without horses. We’ve got tons of things like that.”
“I see,” Belamus murmured. “So instead of advancing magic, the dwarves focused on developing mechanical technology.”
“Pretty much,” Mimi said. “I’ve heard a few things about human nations, and it sounds like some of the tech we’ve already phased out is still being used over there. Magic’s useful, sure, but if you can’t use it, you’re stuck. Anyone can operate our machines.”
Belamus leaned back slightly, impressed. That kind of accessibility was no small thing. In Beresdral, there were many who couldn’t wield magic well. Tools that anyone could use… that could change everything. Even for those without magical aptitude, machines could offer a path to prosperity.
Belamus found himself contemplating the possibilities. If Beresdral shared its magical knowledge, and in return the dwarves offered their mechanical craftsmanship, the foundation for a powerful alliance could take root.
But before any deal could be made, there was a vital question he still had to ask.
“How are humans and goblins perceived in the Kingdom of Crystia?” he asked carefully.
Mimi looked thoughtful. “Humans… they’re feared. And goblins are generally lumped in with monsters. But honestly, if the dwarves back home saw the evolved goblins here in Beresdral, they probably wouldn’t even recognize them as goblins.”
Belamus sighed. “So, we’re feared. That might make diplomacy difficult.”
“Do you really want to trade with my kingdom?” Mimi asked, tilting her head. “Well, if you can prove that humans are safe to interact with, then I think it’s possible.”
“And how would I go about proving that?” Belamus asked, his tone measured but inquisitive, already thinking two steps ahead.
“There’s a strict law in Crystia,” she explained. “No one of another race can enter unless introduced by a known dwarf. It’s always been that way. If I introduced you… it’d be different. But…”
Belamus nodded grimly. “You can’t return while you’re being hunted.”
“Exactly,” Mimi murmured, her voice heavy with regret. “I’m sorry. I want to help, but I can’t.”
Belamus stared at her, thoughtfully. Wait… she said she’s being hunted because of a curse. If he could remove that curse or prove that no curse existed in the first place, her exile might be revoked. The hunters would lose their justification. And she’d be free to return home.
Not only would that solve Mimi’s crisis, but it could open the gates to formal trade with Crystia. And if she were truly a princess, the backing of the royal family would make future dealings far smoother and far more profitable.
It was the perfect way to kill two birds with one stone.
“Mimi,” Belamus said, stepping forward, “I’ll break your curse.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“If I can lift it, or prove it was never real, they’ll stop chasing you. You could return to Crystia openly and help us establish trade.”
“I… I mean, that sounds great,” she stammered, clearly overwhelmed. “But can you really do it?”
“When it comes to curses,” Belamus said with quiet confidence, “I know more than most. Let me take a look.”
Mimi hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded. “O-Okay. I trust you.”
With that, Belamus began his investigation into the so-called curse that had upended Mimi’s entire life. And to investigate a curse, one had to turn to magic.
While truly powerful curses often revealed themselves at a glance with tells like twisted auras or visible corruption, Mimi showed none of those signs. Still, Belamus couldn’t be certain. Dwarves might react differently to curse magic. It was possible that what escaped the human eye could still be hidden deep within her. There was only one reliable way to know for sure.
He raised his hand and invoked the spell: Curse Search.
The moment the incantation took hold, Belamus’s eyes turned pitch-black, the color of the void. His vision shifted. The world around him lost its warmth, replaced by a muted palette where living beings shimmered with color-coded glows.
Green meant clean—no curse.
Red signaled that a curse was present.
Gray… gray was dangerous. That meant a curse of tremendous potency, something ancient and lethal.
He turned his gaze toward Mimi.
Her aura pulsed a gentle, steady green.
Belamus frowned.
So… nothing?
He held the vision for a few seconds longer, scanning carefully. No anomalies. No hidden pulses. Not even the faintest trace of latent malice or dark enchantment.
Could there really be a curse so obscure that even Curse Search couldn’t detect it?
It was unlikely. The spell could identify curses in nearly any species, even ones he hadn’t seen before. Even if it didn’t reveal the type, it would at least register something. But here? Nothing.
Which raised a more troubling question.
If Mimi wasn’t cursed, then why was it declared that she was? Was it a misdiagnosis? Or something far more sinister?
Perhaps she had been caught in the web of some political struggle, a royal scapegoat marked for execution under false pretenses.
If that was the case, things were about to get a lot more complicated.
“Mimi,” Belamus said gently, his blackened irises fading back to normal, “you’re not cursed.”
Her breath caught. “R-Really? So… that letter was right after all?”
“Letter?” Belamus asked, his brows knitting slightly as he caught an unexpected note in Mimi’s voice.
She nodded. “I got a message once. It said I wasn’t cursed at all, that I was actually blessed. The writer claimed to be a scholar who studied the history of Crystia. They told me that if I visited their research facility, they could reveal what was really happening to me. I wasn’t sure if I should go, but… before I could decide, the assassins came. We had to flee.”
“Blessed? Hm…” Belamus murmured, his gaze distant as he turned the word over in his mind, weighing its implications. His expression grew contemplative. A blessing was the opposite of a curse; rather than bringing misfortune, it bestowed benefits. But unlike curses, blessings were exceedingly rare and notoriously difficult to cast. Even in his previous life, Belamus had encountered only a handful. Detecting them was even harder; his magic couldn’t identify blessings, nor could it remove or alter them. They were elusive by nature: undeniably powerful, but functionally invisible.
So maybe that’s it, he thought. They saw something strange in her, a power they didn’t understand, and mistook it for a curse. But even if that’s true… would they listen if we tried to explain?
He needed more information. Specifically, the identity of the person who’d sent Mimi that letter.
“If this researcher exists, where’s their lab?” he asked.
“They’re kind of an oddball,” Mimi said. “They study outside the kingdom, up here on the surface, I think.”
Belamus’s eyes lit up. “Then we can reach them.”
Mimi hesitated. “But what if there are still assassins looking for me out there? I don’t want to get anyone hurt…”
“Assassins aren’t a problem,” Belamus said, his voice firm. “I’m strong.”
Mimi blinked, unconvinced. “E-Even if you’re strong, dwarven assassins aren’t exactly weak, you know. They’re terrifying.”
He considered her warning. It was true that he hadn’t fought many dwarves before. Underestimating them could be fatal. But at the same time, a race that feared humans likely didn’t outclass them in raw power. Not consistently, anyway.
“I’ll be fine,” he said with quiet confidence. “I won’t lose.”
If Mimi could meet that scholar, if her so-called curse could be reclassified as a blessing, everything would change. She could go home. The royal family might even welcome her return. And with her status as a princess restored, Beresdral could establish a formal trade alliance with Crystia—accessing orichalcum, intricate dwarven machinery, and a host of innovations that could transform the town.
Belamus was already envisioning the possibilities.
“Y-You’re really going through with this?” Mimi asked, her voice small and uncertain.
She didn’t yet understand just how strong Belamus was. But she would.