Chapter 137 Why Not Beer? (2/2)
Not far away, Joshua continued to drink. Beholding this with some awe, the dwarf stroked the steel-drill mole at his side, exclaiming in praise, ”He has an iron stomach!”
The steel-drill moles were the dwarves' companions, much like a knight's warhorse. Many dwarves ate and slept alongside their moles, who helped them with everything, from digging and excavating to searching for ore, and even finding their way around. The mole at the dwarf's side nodded solemnly at its master, as though in agreement.
Meanwhile, while clanking cups and drinking hard with another dwarf, Joshua noticed something had changed with the surrounding dwarves—though at first their prejudice had been obvious, the way they were looking at him now was tinged with a shade of acceptance.
As his gaze swept over them, the dwarves raised their cups in acknowledgement.
Joshua smiled, knowing full well what was going on.
Though regular drinkers the dwarves may be, they had little respect for those who got drunk out of their wits. As a race who prided themselves on intricate skill at smithing, carefully planned engineering and so on, it was not the volume of alcohol consumed which mattered, but rather the ability to stay on your feet and in control after a bout of heavy drinking—that was what really commanded their respect.
A person who allowed themselves to get drunk was someone who had no grasp of their own limits, and who likely had little mastery over their own body or wits—people of this sort, with so little understanding of themselves, were completely unworthy of trust. Conversely, someone who could drink a lot without getting drunk was considered to be of clear mind and firm resolve, always in full control.
Elsewhere at the party, while Joshua and the other dwarves were plying each other with drinks…
… Moreila and Clyre were having a chat.
”Clyre, I never thought I'd see the day when you came back to the northern lands again. It's really been too long.” The venerable dwarf's expression showed no trace of joy at his reunion with an old friend—quite the opposite, his resentment was clear to see. His brow deeply furrowed, he spat the words through gritted teeth, ”It's too bad Joshua doesn't know the truth about your background, or else he'd never have brought you here!”
”Time heals all wounds. It's been so long that they've already completely forgotten about me —even if they knew, they wouldn't still be clinging onto bitter memories, like you're doing.” The elf spoke calmly in reply to Moreila, appearing to be untroubled by the dwarf's naked hostility. ”What happened that time… no one was at fault. Since you chose to hold to your oaths, there's no need to bare your fangs at me.”
”In that case, why did you come back here?”
”I just felt like coming by, to check on this land they're watching over, that's all…” Saying this softly, Clyre sighed, the elven druid observing the old dwarf's hardened gaze. She said, with sincerity, ”I've spent a century studying about Balance, understanding the relationship between Order and Chaos… only now do I understand the horror that we faced back then; but they have always been stationed here, on guard, constantly holding those powers at bay… by comparison, this quarrel between us is like dandelions blowing in the wind—hardly worth clutching after.”
The elf continued lamenting, ”Centuries have passed us by, and humanity has cycled through several generations—already, his descendant has grown to be a match for either one of us… I only returned to these northern lands to cleanse away any remnants of Chaos energy, and maybe check up on old friends along the way, that's all.”
The old dwarf made no reply, only downed another cup of wine, and then silently turned his head to watch Joshua steadily gaining acceptance amongst the dwarves.
”It was like this back then, too—he could really drink…” He sighed. ”His power has already surpassed that man's own—if we'd all had the kind of power we do now, right from the beginning, then things surely wouldn't have turned out…”
”What's the use of talking about it now?” The elf, seeming by appearances to still be quite young, said in a laid-back manner, ”You're a dwarf, the best among blacksmiths—you should understand this principle: the heredity of humans is like Damascus steel— it must be hammered well and forged repeatedly, in order to make it stronger and tougher. In this way, from one generation to the next, the results could eventually be nothing short of Legendary tier…”
She raised the wine cup in her hand and offered him a smile. ”This is a party to welcome Joshua. Don't be like this. Come, drink with me.”
”… Cheers.”