“Hmm? Can’t use it?” he asked with a slight tilt of his head, then added, half-teasing, “Ah, of course, it’s not something a third princess would be expected to handle.”
“N-No, that’s not it,” Mimi said quickly, her voice flustered. “Guns are supposed to be the kind of weapon even someone like me, a girl with no physical strength, can use. So yeah, I was made to practice with one. It’s just… I was terrible at it. I could never hit anything.”
Her smile faltered as she spoke, the light dimming in her eyes. Clearly, the memories weren’t fond ones.
“If you’d rather not, I understand,” Belamus said gently.
“No, it’s fine,” Mimi replied, straightening her shoulders. “You’re right. If we might face someone who’s using one, then it’ll be better for you to see how it works.”
She stepped forward and picked up the gun, handling it with a blend of caution and familiarity. Liza, Delarosa, Navasha, and even Medello wandered over, curiosity lighting up their faces.
A practice target stood at the far end of the room, likely something Rugen had set up for his own tests.
“Stand back,” Mimi warned, raising her voice slightly. “It’s dangerous. Keep your distance.”
Carefully, she began the setup process. It took time: several precise motions, deliberate checks, and a few deep breaths. Then, when all was ready, she fired.
The crack of the gunshot tore through the air, echoing like thunder in the enclosed space. The bullet flew past the target, missing completely, and slammed into the stone wall behind it, where it left a clean, round hole.
“Ahh, missed it,” she sighed, wincing. “Put a hole in the wall, though.”
“W-Wow! That sound was incredible!” Delarosa shouted, hands over her ears.
“If it had hit someone, they could’ve been seriously hurt!” Navasha added, eyes wide.
The three goblin girls voiced their reactions in turn, each reflecting a different shade of awe or concern.
“At that speed, I could dodge it,” Liza mused calmly, arms folded.
Belamus rubbed his chin, eyes narrowing. “It’s got serious power… but the preparation takes far too long.”
“Yeah,” Mimi said with a nod. “But from what I’ve heard, newer models are way more efficient. Some can be prepped almost instantly, with better range and higher firepower. This one’s old. I think Rugen has one of the newer types somewhere, probably for monster hunting.”
“I see,” Belamus murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pieced together the implications, the new information settling in his mind.
This changed things. While the weapon’s current flaws were obvious, the next generation posed a different kind of threat. Faster, deadlier, harder to counter. Even now, the raw force of the shot left no doubt: the gun was dangerous.
Belamus weighed the information carefully. A magic barrier would be enough to block a bullet in most cases, but not if he were caught off guard. And in a forest, while sniping would be difficult, ambushes would be far more viable. To stay safe, he’d need to keep a defensive spell active at all times. That would drain a considerable amount of mana, but given his current reserves, he figured he could manage. It’ll be a strain, but not impossible.
“Are there any other weapons I should be worried about?” he asked, his tone even but alert.
“Maybe this one…” Mimi stepped forward, holding a small, palm-sized device with care. “It’s called a hand grenade. It’s a kind of bomb. You light it and toss it, then boom!”
Belamus narrowed his eyes. “How loud a ‘boom’ are we talking about?”
“Oh, it’s loud. Really loud,” Mimi said, her brows creasing as she remembered. “But the sound isn’t the only danger. When it explodes, it scatters sharp fragments in every direction, so even if the blast doesn’t hit you, the shrapnel might. It’s dangerous enough that even the person using it has to be careful, especially in the forest. If it hits a tree by accident and knocks it over, you could get crushed yourself. So, I’m not sure assassins would want to use it there.”
“I see… It wouldn’t be easy to test it safely either,” Belamus muttered, eyeing the device warily.
There were several other tools and weapons he didn’t recognize, too, strange artifacts that didn’t fit into the categories he was familiar with. But when it came to weapons likely to be used by dwarven assassins in a forest setting, the list narrowed significantly.
Still… the sheer variety is incredible.
Dwarven craftsmanship extended far beyond anything Belamus had imagined. And it wasn’t just one or two rare items; if they were producing these kinds of weapons in large quantities, then trade with them could be revolutionary. Guns, grenades, even that massive cannon… If installed at a stronghold, it would become an unbreachable fortress.
Beyond the weapons, there were plenty of other strange and fascinating tools. Devices that didn’t exist in any magical catalog. If magic and dwarven technology could be combined… he could already imagine the inventions that might result.
Belamus felt a surge of excitement. The potential for trade with the dwarves was enormous. But to make that future possible, their kingdom couldn’t be allowed to fall into chaos. That meant protecting Mimi at all costs. He set his resolve. He would help her, with everything he had.
Later, after exploring the many gadgets, Delarosa and the others had an idea. They wanted to get closer to Mimi, so they proposed teaching each other their languages. Since Belamus was fluent in both, he agreed to help, though part of him longed to return to the books still waiting on the shelves. He couldn’t bring himself to turn the girls down.
It quickly became clear, however, that teaching Delarosa and Navasha would be no easy task.
They’re… enthusiastic, Belamus thought diplomatically as he watched them struggle to remember even basic words, but this might take a while.
To his surprise, though, Belamus found that Liza and Mimi were picking up the goblin language with impressive speed. Especially Mimi—her progress was nothing short of astounding. Within days, she had mastered nearly eighty percent of the vocabulary, and though her speech was still a little hesitant, she could already hold casual conversations with Delarosa, Navasha, and Medello without issue.
She really is sharp, Belamus thought, watching her navigate the new language with ease. Or perhaps the dwarves as a race are just naturally intelligent… He glanced around at the many dwarven inventions littering the room and nodded to himself. That would explain a lot.
“Wow, Mimi’s really smart!” Delarosa exclaimed, grinning as she heard Mimi reply in broken but confident goblin. “Can’t believe you’re already talking this well!”
“R-Really?” Mimi said, cheeks flushing with delight. Her shy smile glowed with pride; she was clearly pleased by the praise. But while most of the group celebrated her progress, Liza stood quietly to the side, her expression clouded.
“Ugh… watching Mimi makes me wonder why I even bothered working so hard,” she muttered under her breath. “It took me forever to learn any goblin at all, and she’s already chatting away like it’s nothing…”
Liza had struggled with the language when she’d first come to Beresdral, pouring months of effort into communicating properly. Seeing Mimi glide past her so quickly had clearly shaken her confidence.
Belamus turned toward her, his tone gentle but firm. “No, Liza. You learned fast, too. For most people, this kind of thing takes years.”
“Really?” she asked, raising her eyes slightly. “How long did it take you, Lord Belamus?”
Belamus paused to think, recalling his own learning process in his past life. He had always been sharp, if not quite at Mimi’s level.
“About thirty days, give or take,” he answered with a shrug.
Liza slumped again. “I needed six months… maybe I’m just not cut out for this after all…”
Belamus glanced at her sideways. This is turning into a whole thing. Best let it go, he decided, and said nothing more.
Now that they had seen that Mimi could handle basic conversation, Delarosa and Navasha no longer felt the urgency to study the language themselves. Communication was possible regardless, so the lessons gave way to games and laughter.
As the others played, Belamus returned to what he truly wanted: books. Until Rugen came back, he would dedicate himself fully to reading, eager to uncover whatever knowledge the scholar’s collection held.
Belamus spent every spare moment buried in Rugen’s books, delving into every facet of dwarven civilization he could uncover. He pored over the history of the Kingdom of Crystia, tracing its major wars and political upheavals. He studied the unique traits of the dwarven race, how their physiology, psychology, and culture had evolved underground. He examined their illnesses, their legendary figures, and even their reasons for living beneath the earth rather than on its surface.
He was the type who couldn’t leave a single question unanswered.
The last few years had been consumed by running Beresdral. He hadn’t had the time or freedom to investigate the wider world, and the state of the current era gnawed at his curiosity. Finally getting the chance to study something in depth, even if it was only dwarves, helped quiet the restlessness inside him.
Then, finally—
“I’ve returned,” came a familiar voice at the entrance. Rugen had returned at last.
“Took you long enough!” Delarosa cried, bounding forward. “Welcome back, old man!”
“O-Old man?!” Rugen sputtered, recoiling. “I’ll have you know I’m still in my prime! Don’t go lumping me in with the elderly!”
Despite his grizzled appearance, it was clear Rugen hated being treated his age. Belamus understood the sentiment well. In his past life, even in his sixties, when he still had strength in both mind and body, he’d been treated as if he had one foot in the grave. It had left a complicated taste in his mouth. He hadn’t been the type to snap at people over it, not with age softening his temper. But he could certainly empathize with Rugen’s irritation.
Standing beside Rugen was a dwarf Belamus didn’t recognize: a tall, broad man with a deep scar slashing across his face. He was a full head taller than Rugen and stood nearly one hundred sixty centimeters. Based on what Belamus had read, that was well above the dwarven male average of one hundred thirty-five centimeters—making him an outlier by any standard.
“Let’s see the proof,” the dwarf said abruptly, his voice gruff and to the point.
Without hesitation, Rugen turned to Mimi and gave her a subtle nod.
Face flushing, Mimi hesitated a moment, then sighed and lifted her shirt just enough to reveal the faint, leaf-shaped mark on her stomach. Her embarrassment was obvious, but she knew this wasn’t something she could hide.