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HELHEIM SCANS
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Chapter 175: Sirin’s Afternoon (2)
The imperial investigation team arrived in Sirin after just five days.
“Pleased to meet you. I am Piaro Sparatz, an investigator from the Imperial Court.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Sasha Maestro, the White Tower Master.”
“Oscar Crucian.”
“But…”
Sasha’s eyes narrowed slightly as she examined the members of the investigation team.
“Who are the people behind you?”
“Ah, they’re individuals we deemed necessary for this investigation.”
Piaro answered immediately, as if reciting a rehearsed line.
Oscar let out a faint chuckle at the investigator’s shameless demeanor.
The imperial court, usually sluggish like a turtle, had moved with uncharacteristic speed.
Clearly, they had an ulterior motive.
‘Trimmed nails, thick fingers, calloused palms, and broad shoulders.’
A whole group of blacksmiths.
‘Outfits with multiple pockets for pencils and pens, ink stains under their nails, and a habit of analyzing the tower's structures the moment they arrive.’
And a whole group of architects.
Oscar sent Sasha a message through magic.
- This looks less like an investigation and more like they just wanted to meet the dwarves, don’t you think?
- …You see it that way too, Master?
Sighing softly, Sasha reluctantly guided them to the 13th floor.
“Whoa!”
“My gods, I didn’t think such a massive forge could exist.”
“The workshop itself is bigger than our imperial foundry!”
“Even the layout of the tools is beautiful—this is art…”
Upon entering the 13th floor, expanded by spatial magic to a massive size, the investigators were awestruck.
Of course, the airship under construction had already been moved to another floor.
Because of that, Oscar had been scolded by Hagor.
‘As if we weren’t busy enough, now this nonsense,’ was the general sentiment.
Perhaps that was why the dwarves didn’t look kindly on the investigators.
They were unwelcome visitors disturbing them in the critical final stage of their work.
At that moment, Piaro approached Hagor and cautiously knelt on one knee.
“Greetings. I am Piaro Sparatz, an investigator from the Calderan Empire.”
“…”
He hadn’t shown this level of courtesy when addressing Sasha.
Feeling somewhat annoyed, Oscar watched as Hagor glared down at Piaro and finally spoke.
“Grum nar!”
“…Pardon?”
According to the records, dwarves were capable of speaking human language fluently.
But hearing the sudden outburst in dwarven tongue caught Piaro off guard.
Then, a man from the back of the investigation team stepped forward.
“‘Grum nar’ means ‘get lost’ in dwarven.”
“I see. B-but why such hostility upon first meeting…?”
“Well, dwarves are known for being extremely territorial, so our sudden visit must have offended them.”
It seemed the imperial court was determined this time—they even sent a translator who spoke dwarven.
Hagor let out a dry chuckle at the sight, then spoke again.
“Grinado bortena gavrid kesalina dante!”
A rapid string of dwarven words, almost like a machine gun.
Sasha’s voice slipped into Oscar’s ear through a message spell.
- Master, what did he just say?
- I have no idea.
- Huh?
- Seriously, I don’t know. That’s ancient dwarven.
It was an archaic dialect, barely used by even the dwarves themselves—a language long forgotten.
The white anvil clan dwarves responded in the same dialect, talking amongst themselves.
“Girinunga broten tak?”
“Brak uzk, manda kunda!”
“Trug rum kazras.”
Frankly, it was dizzying.
Ancient dwarven was harsh and direct, making it sound aggressive and unpleasant.
Piaro turned to the translator.
“What are they saying?”
“W-well… I, um… I don’t know.”
“What? Aren’t you a foreign language specialist?”
“Y-yes, but I never learned those words… They weren’t in any of the dwarven languages I studied.”
Watching the two flustered men, Sasha spoke up.
“Well, you’ve seen the expanded space with your own eyes, so the investigation is complete, right?”
“W-wait, please. We still have a lot more to check—”
“I’ll give you five more minutes.”
Releasing a slight hint of her magic, Sasha smiled sweetly.
“You see, both the dwarves and I are far too busy to waste any more time.”
“B-but…”
In the end, Piaro and the investigation team left empty-handed, returning to the imperial court.
After seeing them off, Sasha scattered salt at the entrance of the tower with a smirk.
“Hmph. The imperial court is so laughable. Trying to steal dwarven technology this way.”
“That’s just how power-hungry people operate.”
But now, the court knew one thing for certain.
No matter what underhanded methods they used, they wouldn’t be able to steal the dwarves’ technology.
The only way to collaborate with the dwarves would be through the White Tower.
‘Once the airship is complete, we’ll launch that business as well.’
The sale of dwarven weapons would undoubtedly become Sirin’s exclusive enterprise, surpassing even potions and deliveries.
* * *
Late at night.
While practicing spatial magic alone in his room, Oscar slowly turned his head.
He could sense a foreign magical presence near the door.
‘…Who is it?’
Narrowing his eyes, he stood up and asked.
“Who’s there?”
For a brief moment, he heard a soft murmur of admiration from beyond the door.
- We’re from the imperial court.
It was a familiar voice.
Oscar opened the door and greeted the visitor.
“I didn’t expect to see you again.”
“Have you been well?”
The man standing in the hallway smiled faintly and asked,
“Nebula Grime, from the Imperial Ministry of Internal Affairs’ Special Investigation Bureau.”
Recalling his identity, Oscar spoke.
“Come on in.”
“Thank you.”
Once seated on the sofa, Nebula began with a small compliment.
“Your skills have greatly improved. Honestly, it’s almost frightening.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, last time, you couldn’t sense my presence until I knocked.”
That was true.
But now, he could clearly sense Nebula’s presence.
He simply hadn’t noticed the change in himself, but it seemed he had indeed grown considerably.
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Nebula gazed at him with eyes curved like crescent moons.
“Did you know? You’re only the third person in my life who’s ever sensed my presence.”
“Who are the other two?”
“...I can’t tell you right now, but I hope the day comes when I can.”
If simply mentioning them was difficult, they must be formidable figures.
Who could they be?
Suppressing his curiosity, Oscar got to the point.
“What brings you here today?”
“I have a confidential message to deliver.”
“...Whose envoy are you?”
At those words, Nebula raised a single finger and pointed upward.
A simple gesture, yet it conveyed everything.
The one above.
He was the Emperor’s envoy.
“I’m listening.”
“You need to be more careful.”
“Suddenly?”
“You met a man named Sever Harben in Saint Hill recently, didn’t you?”
“Ah, that unpleasant man.”
Nebula chuckled and leaned his head back slightly, clearly pleased with the evaluation.
“Haha, yes. He is indeed a rather unpleasant fellow. He’s the sword of the Noble Faction.”
“The Noble Faction?”
“Yes. Currently, there are two factions within the Imperial Court: the Emperor’s Faction, led by His Majesty, and the Noble Faction, made up of high-ranking nobles.”
Knowing the Emperor’s character, Oscar found the mere existence of such a faction hard to believe.
“Is His Majesty really allowing that situation to continue?”
“Of course, in the past, it would have been unthinkable. After all, he’s not called the Steel Emperor for nothing. However, the Noble Faction is backed by the Blue Tower and the Yellow Tower.”
“Ah.”
Oscar immediately understood the implications.
‘The reason the Noble Faction can maintain its influence is because of their magical engineering technology.’
Even the Emperor couldn’t easily suppress technology of that magnitude.
‘He can’t simply intimidate the Yellow Tower into giving up their technology either.’
A single misstep could shatter the hard-won peace, igniting a civil war.
Of course, if it came to war, the Empire would inevitably win.
‘But…’
Blood would be shed.
An enormous amount of blood.
And with the regression of technology, civilization’s progress would be severely stunted.
The Emperor surely wouldn’t want that.
The current peace had been reclaimed through countless battles, built upon the corpses and blood of many.
‘That old man has grown soft.’
Oscar smiled faintly and spoke.
“So, you’re warning me to be careful because the Noble Faction is targeting me?”
“It’s just a possibility, but yes. They are wary of your ability to restore demons to human form.”
“Why is that?”
“Because they can’t distinguish anymore. Until now, the rule was simple: demons must be killed. This clean-cut regulation ensured there was no chaos. But thanks to your potion, the possibility of demons returning to human form exists.”
No one could predict what would happen next.
Some who were restored might live out their lives peacefully.
Others might eventually revert to being demons and wreak havoc again.
“The Noble Faction is unwilling to take on such a risk. To be precise, they find the very idea of these ‘half-humans’ or disguised individuals blending into their society repugnant.”
“Hmm, I understand.”
Their distrust of the potion’s effects was inevitable.
Even Oscar himself couldn’t guarantee it would work flawlessly in every case.
“His Majesty is concerned that their fear and anxiety might endanger a promising talent.”
“Still, would the Emperor personally go this far to protect a mere individual…?”
“It seems he made the decision after reading the report about your mastery of spatial magic. He believes you are an indispensable asset to the Empire’s future.”
It was touching—but also a bit overwhelming.
Oscar nodded reluctantly, his expression somewhat awkward.
“Understood. Is that all you came to say?”
“There is one more thing.”
With that, Nebula pulled out a bag and retrieved a large box from within.
A box so massive, it seemed impossible that it could have fit inside the bag.
Of course, it wasn’t some sort of magic trick.
‘A spatial storage bag…’
An artifact worth a fortune—practically priceless.
Only a handful existed across the entire continent, yet Nebula had one.
Placing the box before Oscar, he spoke.
“His Majesty asked me to deliver this. He said it was a token of a previous promise.”
A previous promise.
That likely referred to the reward for Oscar’s performance at the Mage’s Night.
Though he had been content with reclaiming the White Tower’s legacy, the Emperor had insisted on giving him an additional reward.
“His Majesty said it would be of great help to you.”
With those words, Nebula rose from his seat.
“I heard you’ve earned the right to visit the Grand Temple. I look forward to the day you become a true comrade.”
“Thank you for today. Next time, let’s meet as comrades.”
After Nebula left the room, Oscar gazed at the wooden box.
It wasn’t made of just any wood—it was crafted from an exceptionally luxurious material.
At a glance, it seemed more valuable than most gemstones.
‘Gifts of this nature are usually delivered with much pomp and ceremony…’
But this had been sent secretly, along with a warning, and in such a hurry.
What could possibly be inside?
With a soft click, the lid of the wooden box opened, producing a pleasant sound.
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HELHEIM SCANS
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