The nation of Sutherland was defined by unique customs.
This could be said of any country, any race or people, but the customs born from their history—driven by necessity to seek prosperity upon the seas—were all the more distinct when compared to other nations.
(My first time on a boat... and I never imagined it'd be like this. Ugh, I'm gonna be sick...)
The King of Ruin, Takuto Ira, was in a wretched state, violently seasick amid the terrified, awestruck stares of those around him.
It had been only a few hours since Mynoghra's party had entered Sutherland with lightning speed and secured an audience.
The fact that they had prepared such lavish hospitality and a venue for meetings within such a brief window was remarkable even to Takuto and his companions—there was a certain sense of admiration and respect.
Truly befitting a race whose livelihood was trade. As an maritime nation inhabited by dwarves, one might assume they were somewhat lacking in civilization, but that impression clearly needed to be revised.
For instance, this very place to which Takuto and the Mynoghra delegation had been invited...
Takuto gazed toward the distant scenery, hiding the dizziness swirling in his head and the nausea rising in his throat.
There, stretching to the horizon, lay a vast open sea dotted with ships. On the opposite side, land was visible, but it too was far, far away.
In other words—they were at sea.
"To think they'd prepare a reception hall on the ocean—quite the sophisticated idea, wouldn't you say? What would they do on a stormy day, I wonder?"
As Atou had noted, the place they currently occupied was an enormous mansion constructed atop multiple ships lashed together side by side.
Since it couldn't be built on land, there were certain limits to its scale and ornamentation, but even so...
It was a lavish estate of a kind Takuto had never seen in his previous life, sitting atop connected ships. At the very least, it bore the grandeur befitting the nation regarded as second only to Mynoghra on the Dark Continent.
(Still, a reception hall on the ocean... it really screams fantasy, doesn't it? Honestly, I'm not sure there's much practical need to build one on the sea. At the very least, common sense probably doesn't apply here.)
Why such a structure—one that was, in a sense, warped and defied basic physics—could exist so matter-of-factly was a point of genuine interest for Takuto, but he chalked it up to whatever fantasy principles were at work. Mynoghra was hardly in a position to criticize others. It was best to simply accept fantasy as fantasy.
No matter how inefficient or irrational it might be...
More important to Takuto than the structural engineering of these visually spectacular dwarven maritime buildings was something else entirely. Even within this single building, he could already see what truly mattered.
(They’d connected multiple caravels for use as a reception hall. A structure of this scale couldn’t be erected quickly, and since there were no reports of deepened relations with Quolia or El-Nah to that extent, this must be intended for the envoys from the other continent he’d heard rumors about.)
The likelihood of them having built this specifically for Mynoghra was slim. Even for dwarves, time and budget would be insufficient; moreover, even if they had the resources, deciding to prepare something like this in advance—given the uncertainty of its use—would require an extremely authoritarian judgment.
Thus, the answer became self-evident.
The problem was that this answer clearly stood as a concern regarding Mynoghra’s future claim to hegemony.
(The other continent is a point of interest. I should try to extract information about that area eventually… Fortunately, trade with the other continent is said to be life-threatening every time. I should be relieved that the geographical distance prevents casual intervention.)
Simultaneously addressing every issue was utterly impossible. Running short on resources was just the beginning of an overwhelming burden.
Moreover, the immediate problem Mynoghra needed to solve was too colossal. If they couldn’t deal with the Orthodox Continent Alliance, there would be no room to consider the other continent—they would simply be annihilated.
Still, it seemed wise to keep it in a corner of his mind.
Takuto wrestled with the mountain of problems piling up one after another.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell if this headache stemmed from the myriad issues facing Mynoghra or from the discomfort of seasickness…
"Now, then, as I explained earlier, the situation surrounding this continent is extremely dire," the representative began. "Even for our honored guests from Sutherland, we hope you will make a wise decision after fully understanding the current state of affairs."
In the elegant meeting room, where waves could be seen swaying outside the window, Mortar was solely in charge of steering the conversation on Mynoghra’s side.
Takuto and Atou sat at the table, silently staring down the dwarves and radiating an oppressive aura.
The attendees, in addition to them, included Emuru and the Dark Elf Steward. Visibly, there were Dark Elf gunners and a Brain Eater as guards.
Although from a different affiliation, Tonukapoli, the staff-bearer from Fonkavun, was also participating. However, she was there only in an observer’s capacity and had no intention of actively engaging in the talks.
That Vittorio was not permitted to participate was a unanimous decision.
Combined with the apocalyptic pressure emanating from Takuto, its effect of intimidating the opposing side was excellent.
No… it was more than excellent.
(Shit. I didn’t hear about this. That there’s something this outrageous on this continent…)
On the other side, the dwarves—the valiant and bold sea-faring fleet commanders—were uniformly cowed, lacking their usual bluster.
While Fleet Admiral Doban himself still maintained some semblance of national dignity, the other fleet captains—particularly the younger ones—were visibly averting their gazes and trembling openly.
Doban shifted with a low grunt, stroking his beard in a gesture not often seen, one unfamiliar to outsiders.
*'Hey, you lot! Stop showing them those cowardly faces! At this rate, they'll see right through us and the whole deal is off!'*
Among dwarves, especially those of the fleet captain class, a specialized cipher known only within their own ranks was used for negotiations. This particular gesture was one such signal.
By the manner in which one stroked their beard, simple communication could be conducted, allowing for silent consultation with companions without the negotiating partner noticing, thereby steering matters to their advantage.
This was a traditional method passed down long before they came to these seas. Of course, every dwarf understood the complex and nuanced gestures and their meanings, but whether they could receive and execute the content of the message was another matter entirely.
*(Tch… every last one of them lacks backbone. The miss is here for a negotiation. As long as we don't provoke them, they won't make a move, so why the hell are they shaking like that?)*
Cursing inwardly at his unresponsive, still-trembling companions, Fleet Admiral Doban nevertheless fully understood why he could not rebuke them too harshly.
After all, even Doban himself felt the urge to scream and flee if he let his guard down even slightly…
*(The story was that a Succubus got the better of them, so I expected someone a bit more impressive, but this… I can't even probe for a reaction without risking everything. The titles of "Evil God" or "King of Ruin" I figured were just grandiose embellishments for show, but to think they were real…)*
To have seen this form directly—the form of the King of Ruin—meant Doban had to reconsider his entire strategy.
More likely, the story about being defeated by a Succubus was a bluff. It was more logical to assume they had withdrawn temporarily for some specific purpose.
Doban had seen Succubus and Players—outsiders—with his own eyes. He was well aware of their overwhelming threat.
Therefore, he had neither underestimated nor made light of these outsiders.
But even so.
The King of Ruin before them now was abnormal.
The man himself, Takuto Ira, was currently seasick and groggy. His equally evil counterpart, Atou of the Filth, was too preoccupied with worrying about her lord to pay dwarves any mind, and the most troublesome hero was absent from the scene, having slipped away into the city on his own to start causing unnecessary trouble.
The reality was far removed from what they imagined—for better or worse.
*(Tch, at my age, my balls have shrunk to the size of pebbles. Why does such a cursed mess have to land on my generation?)*
But despite it all, he was the Fleet Admiral. The man at the head of countless ships.
He was a dwarf, he was a sailor.
Therefore, here, he could not take on a servile attitude, cowering and gauging the color of his opponent's eyes.
Not even if it meant the end of his own life.
Doban, Grand Fleet Captain of Sutherland. He was a man of courage and fortitude who bore that name without shame.
"But it doesn't add up. I get that you folks want our help. But from the looks of it, if you've got someone with power on par with a king, you shouldn't need our cooperation, right?"
He fired the first shot.
That was Doban's unvarnished truth, the opening statement of a frank discussion.
The request from Mynoghra, which Doban had just explained through the elder Mortar, was simpler than expected.
Essentially, they wanted to form an alliance among the nations of the Dark Continent to oppose the Continental Alliance of Legitimacy, and together as a united nation, wage a massive war.
The demands from their side were one-sided. They had approached with a relatively friendly attitude, but considering the substance and the suddenness of their arrival, it was clear this was effectively an ultimatum under the guise of negotiation.
This was also evident from Mynoghra's request for technology transfer upon the conclusion of the alliance.
"So you're after tech from a whole other unknown continent... and once we hand that over, we're all best friends?"
"Our nation is aware that your country has been conducting modest exchanges with the other continent over there and has obtained several technologies. If you would provide those, our nation will endeavor to be of use in opposing the Continental Alliance of Legitimacy. Specifically, more useful to you than them."
Elder Mortar threw a jab.
It was a somewhat provocative statement, a deliberate one, but Doban was not the man to lose his temper over such a thing. Stroking his beard, he evaded a clear answer with a relaxed, noncommittal air.
"Still, that's not cheap, is it? Tech. Especially exclusive tech no one else knows about. To just be told 'hand it over' like that..."
"Our nation is advanced in magic-related technologies. How about we offer those in exchange?"
"Oh? Magic-related! Now that sparks my interest!"
Being offered a technology transfer outright meant the other side had already factored in this level of payment. If he pushed a little harder, might something else come out? But he shouldn't dawdle too much and sour the mood, or this mutually beneficial deal wouldn't happen.
Even before the King of Ruin, the merchant's mind still reigned supreme. Grand Fleet Commander Doban was a businessman through and through.
The elder Mortar, for his part, used Doban's reaction to gauge the measure of the man.
*(Hmm. This composure even before a king. Worthy of the one who leads all the dwarves, I suppose. With this sort, one would normally spend ample time negotiating at leisure... but we haven't the luxury. Still, letting him sense our desperation would be galling. What a pickle indeed.)*
Mortar cast a fleeting glance toward Takuto and Atou.
No matter how firmly the elder Mortar held the reins of the conference as one of Mynoghra's representatives, all final authority rested with the great king. He had to remain constantly attentive to how the king—and his loyal subordinate Atou, who voiced his will—would react.
The dwarves were currently hemming and hawing with an unsettled air, dragging their feet on any commitment.
Setting Takuto aside, there was every chance Atou would lose her patience and fly into a fury.
Then again... the two parties in question were far too seasick to notice any of it.
Takuto had been feeling wretched the entire time, and Atou was so worried about him that she was discreetly stroking his back with a tentacle, hoping no one would notice.
Rather than "a while longer," they were so absorbed in their own world that one could leave them be for another half hour or so without issue.
As Mortar studied their expressions—showing, to outside eyes, absolutely no movement or change whatsoever—he felt a prickle of anxiety over how to interpret the attitudes of these two master and servant heading off to an utterly unforeseen battle.
*(This won't do. The king and Lord Atou have been silent for some time now. In my experience, that is rarely a good sign. They are clearly offended.)*
A single bead of cold sweat traced down Mortar's brow.
For him, Takuto Ira—the king of Mynoghra—was an eternally great being whose full depth he could never hope to fathom.
It had been that way from the moment they first met, and countless events since had only deepened that conviction.
And so Mortar understood all too well that the king was growing impatient with this situation.
That, in turn, meant the talks would collapse. It meant all their plans would be wiped clean and returned to nothing.
And at the same time, it would become Mortar's own burden of responsibility.
How heavy would that responsibility be—the blame for failing to bring this negotiation to a proper close?
I had shown too much leniency to the diminutive dwarves who parried the conversation with agile evasions.
Old Mortar decided to shift his approach and change the intensity of the negotiation by one degree, to leave no room for the other side to be careless.
"As Lord Tonukapoli has likely already informed you, we have no time. The King's mercy is generous and impartial, but we, his subordinates, are not. Among us, there are some who may resort to force... particularly if the conference reaches an impasse... wouldn't you agree?"
Mortar turned his gaze toward the Brain Eater, a suggestive smile playing on his lips.
Doban glanced at the imposing guard-like figure addressed as the Brain Eater, but the mask hid whatever thoughts the being might hold.
The only thing he understood was that it was nearly time to fold.
"Oh, now, now! You mustn't misunderstand! In principle, forming an alliance with you lot isn't a problem. In fact, our people have already decided on it internally. But to convince those below us, we need a plausible reason. After all, you're planning for Mynoghra to lead, aren't you?"
"Naturally, with an eye toward the wars to come, that is our intention."
"Fonkavun has no such intention. It's too much trouble, looking after these drunks."
Tonukapoli, who had been present all along, finally spoke up. But it was a cold statement laced with a complaint toward Sutherland.
Of course, it was common knowledge that Mynoghra and Fonkavun were already deeply entangled. If so, there was no reason for them to object to being included in that relationship.
*(I did a quick investigation after that, and it seems not everyone in Fonkavun has gone mad. Well, the Ira Cult is a troublesome thing, so in a sense, they have been invaded... but still, we have to think about our own survival first.)*
The problem of the Ira Cult was a troublesome topic that had been raised several times in Sutherland. While still in its early stages, this new religion that worshipped Takuto Ira, the Demon Lord of Ruin, had infiltrated through trade with Fonkavun.
If left unchecked, it would obviously become a major problem, and Sutherland had considered regulations multiple times, but all of those proposals only reached the discussion table before fading away. This was entirely because the dwarves valued their freedom and were reluctant to interfere too much in personal beliefs.
In truth, this non-intervention policy had worked in Mynoghra's favor this time.
Although there were no cultists among the convoy leaders yet, the cultists scattered throughout Sutherland were preaching the greatness of Mynoghra and Takuto Ira.
As a result, a vague perception had formed within Sutherland: "Well, it seems like a somewhat evil nation, but they can apparently do business."
If goods could be sold, they would even do business with a god—this was the attitude toward commerce they themselves often professed.
That such practical assessment was precisely what Sutherland had barely acknowledged about Mynoghra.
Through these circumstances, a rough consensus had already been reached.
Even if the Grand Fleet Admiral’s mention of joining the alliance had been phrased vaguely as “roughly intending to,” the weight of a leader’s words carried far greater impact.
Between the two parties—and especially from those watching the proceedings— a palpable sense of relief began to surface.
The remaining details could be negotiated afterward; once the broad strokes were settled, the rest would be mere formalities.
It was just as that slightly relaxed atmosphere began to settle that—
“That said, there are still problems!”
Suddenly, Doban reopened the near-concluded discussion. Doban himself, of all people.
What could his intention possibly be? Even old Mortar could not help but frown slightly at this outrageous move.
Because it was utterly abnormal. Rude, in the truest sense.
“Hmm… Whatever could the issue be?”
he asked quietly, fully aware that the other party was no senseless brute. He knew Doban was no fool who would make thoughtless demands and incur Mynoghra’s displeasure. He wouldn’t give some clumsy warning here and send the discussion back to square one, Mortar judged.
First, he had to hear him out. That was the priority.
“The ranking ain’t settled!”
Mortar’s gaze flickered briefly toward Tonukapoli.
He sought to confirm the intent behind the strange claim that the dwarf chief had just declared to the Fonkavun representative—who had been positioned as an observer, essentially a witness, from the start.
“Being a dwarf, y’know. Stubborn buggers. They need a reason to bow their head.”
Tonukapoli received the unspoken question in that glance with perfect clarity. Rather, it was less that he received it and more that anyone watching could see there was only one possible query.
Namely: “Are they serious about this?”
“I have heard something of their temperament, but even so, isn’t this a rather leisurely pace?”
"Don't look at me, old Mortar. These guys have been like this forever."
"Sigh..."
Regardless, the important point was that another troublesome aspect of the dwarves' personalities had come to light.
It certainly wasn't a welcome development...
It was no wonder even Mortar could only manage a sigh. The only fortunate thing was that, from their perspective, the King of Mynoghra, Takuto Ira, didn't seem particularly stressed by this situation.
Of course, Takuto was currently in the throes of severe seasickness, so he simply lacked the capacity to react.
Whether the overall fleet commander, Doban, took that attitude in any particular way was unclear.
But he likely understood that he was making unreasonable demands. At the same time, he recognized how tremendously rude he was being to the other party.
With a great heaving motion, he bent deeply at the waist, rubbing his forehead against the table, and began to explain their circumstances in a voice that carried well.
"Sorry about this. O King of Ruin, mighty and fearless. We understand you have your reasons. We have ours too. This isn't about stirring the pot or anything."
Takuto heard those words and nodded quietly.
It would be more accurate to say that was the only reaction he was capable of, but it didn't mean he hadn't listened. Having heard, he decided to listen further to their argument.
"We agree that Mynoghra should be the ones to lead us. But even when following, we have our pride. It might seem small to a king, but if we compromise on that, it's all over for us."
Takuto understood what he was trying to say.
He too was a man who had been called number one in the world of Eternal Nations. He knew well the weight that words could carry, and the weight that a title could carry.
He knew there were times when you had to defend those things, disregarding practicality or profit...
Takuto felt a touch of nostalgia.
He was remembering the retaliation he had once exacted against fools on some bulletin board or chat who had spouted nonsense like "Takuto Ira is cheating" when he had become the world's first.
The context and specifics were quite different, but there are things in the world so important that you must defend them.
They weren't material things, or monetary things, but they existed all the same.
"Well now, Lord Doban, no matter what you say to that—Mortar the Elder—"
"Hah!"
"It's fine."
"I-I am terribly sorry..."
At Takuto's words, Mortar fell silent.
A single bead of sweat traced a line across his forehead. He had realized his previous remark was not befitting the king's wishes.
The king, Takuto Ira, was thoughtful and always considered his subordinates before issuing any decree.
His mercy was boundless, yet at times the shortcomings of his followers could displease the king.
And that was now...
Mortar recognized his own arrogance and reaffirmed his understanding: he was merely a mouthpiece for the king's will. It must be so. All existed because the king did. One must never forget that.
With Mortar's silence, a strange tension began to fill the air.
Takuto's gaze pierced Doban, the clan elder and fleet commander of the dwarves. Doban, with both hands planted on the table, slowly raised his head, bravely bracing against the wind of terror that blew from the gaze of the Demon Lord of Ruin.
At last, in his lowest, most powerful voice yet, the brave man of the sea addressed the Demon Lord of Ruin.
"A meek and insignificant, cunning merchant dares to speak without shame to the valiant and heroic Demon Lord of Ruin, Takuto Ira."
"Proceed."
"We request a trial of strength between the greatest fighting force Sutherland possesses and the force you hold. Based on the outcome, we dwarves shall decide who shall be helmsman of Sutherland."
For them, a ship was life itself. The helmsman was the one who determined that life.
Takuto, respecting their courage and conviction, nodded quietly.
Doban broke into a broad grin at the successful negotiation. He stood up with a great scrape, shoving his chair backward. Then, in the loudest voice of the day...
"It's time for the rankings!!!!"
As if heralding the start of a festival, he roared.
=Eterpedia===
[Dragon]Battle Unit (Monster)
Combat Power: 3–8 Movement: 1
"Devour" "Cannibalism" "Flight"
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Dragons are powerful magical beasts.
Some possess sharp fangs, formidable claws, flight capabilities, or even the ability to wield magic.
Due to vast individual differences, they are broadly classified from lower to higher ranks; the more powerful the dragon, the greater the threat it poses to humanity.
They are no longer confirmed to exist on the continent of Idoragia, having been eradicated by the Holy Nation.
Beyond the higher ranks, "transcendent" dragons also exist, though they are known only in legends, and no living person has ever encountered one.
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