A steaming bowl of food was placed in front of me.
It was a delicious dish with tender meatballs soaked well in sauce. The good smell tickled my nose.
It was just the right time for dinner, and I was quite hungry. I picked up my spoon, but upon seeing the shabby-looking dwarf sitting across from me, I put it back down.
“…What are you doing? Aren’t you going to eat?”
The scruffy dwarf, Roarock Ironhammer, stared blankly at the steaming food and did not respond. He just continued to silently gaze down at the appetizing stew for a while.
“…Can I… really eat?”
Roarock’s voice trembled slightly. I glanced back at the students who were already eating and nodded toward Roarock.
Only then did Roarock start his meal. He began by dipping the thickly mashed potatoes into the stew.
He took a large bite of the potatoes, thoroughly soaked in the stew. His rich, reddish-brown beard shook constantly.
“…It’s delicious.”
As he tore into bread, Roarock mumbled. In the beginning, he savored the flavors of the food slowly, but as time passed, he began to eat ravenously.
I couldn’t tell how long he had been starving, but he didn’t look like someone who had been without food for just a day or two. Surely, it had been more than four days.
The mashed potatoes on the table were made by Chloe, and I had made the stew. Roarock was focusing on those two dishes.
“…Take your time.”
I said to Roarock, who had stuffed his mouth full of mashed potatoes. With his mouth full, Roarock was too busy chewing to respond to me. He pointed at the mashed potatoes with his short, thick fingers and mumbled.
“This is, delicious. I haven’t had potatoes in so long… Damn…”
“……”
“Damn it… Why did it have to be potatoes…”
Dwarves, accustomed to life in tunnels, love potatoes. During the Great War, the dwarves captured as prisoners of war by our unit particularly liked potatoes.
From our standpoint, having to feed starving prisoners was made easier because they preferred the cheap and plentiful potatoes. Perhaps because of this, the cooks often preferred dwarf prisoners over picky elves.
– Tap. Tap.
Suddenly, I felt a hand tapping on my arm and woke from my thoughts. Roarock, with food stuffed in his mouth, was twitching his beard.
“Wa, water….”
“…Here it is.”
As soon as I gave him water, Roarock quickly downed a glass of cool water and then returned to his meal. The sound of utensils clinking filled the table.
Having finished my meal earlier, I quietly watched Roarock eat after clearing my empty dishes. Watching him like this reminded me of the times I cared for the wounds of captured dwarf prisoners, and it didn’t feel good.
“Phew….”
After taking a final drink of water, Roarock let out a refreshing sigh as he leaned back in his chair. Only an empty plate and bowl were left in front of Roarock.
“……”
“……”
For a moment, Roarock and I exchanged glances in silence. The students, sensing something in that exchange, quickly cleaned up their empty dishes and hurriedly went up to their rooms.
“Pr, Professor! I’m going upstairs now!”
“Head Priest. I’ll go up too.”
“I’ll stay by the professor’s side….”
“Oh, haha! Lady Adelheit! Do you want to play a board game together?”
The younger they were, the quicker they were to pick up on things. Even a three-year-old can read an adult’s mood, let alone students of that age…
And so, after Laura, who intended to stay behind because she was uneasy about leaving me alone, was swept away, only Roarock and I remained at the dining table.
An uncomfortable silence lingered. Roarock, lost in his hunger, scratched at his beard with an awkward expression.
“Ugh… I, ate well. I don’t know who made it, but the cooking is quite good.”
“I made it.”
“The stew? Or the potatoes?”
“The stew.”
“Hmm. For a human-made dish, it was quite good. I enjoyed it.”
And then, silence again. This time, it seemed like I was supposed to be the one to speak, but I just quietly looked at Roarock without saying anything.
In that uncomfortable atmosphere, Roarock cleared his throat and spoke again.
“Ahem! Well, I was starving. I’m used to going days without food, but you lot have been wafting that delicious smell in the forest since yesterday… I couldn’t help it.”
“…Ah, yes.”
“Anyway, I ate well. It’s been a while since I had warm food….”
Roarock turned his head. His lush beard swayed as he moved. His eyes, situated between disheveled beard and unkempt eyebrows, were gazing out the window.
“…It’s truly been a long time. Indeed.”
“…….”
“Anyway, thank you for the meal. I apologize for what I said earlier.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
After that, Roarock was silent for a while. I simply watched him.
Naturally, my eyes drifted to the old rifle leaned against the table where Roarock was sitting.
“About that rifle.”
“Hmm?”
Roarock turned his head, his gaze shifting to the old rifle.
“Why?”
“Actually, I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That it wasn’t loaded.”
“…….”
Roarock’s expression immediately hardened. He looked at me silently for a while before finally letting out a long sigh and nodding.
“Ha… so, you knew that? How long have you known?”
“From the beginning, I suspected it wouldn’t be loaded.”
“So, you’re saying you just guessed? Are you Kar’galg?”
Roarock looked at me with a slight smirk. He was using the language of dwarves.
I felt sorry for him, but I had indeed picked up some of their language during my time with dwarf prisoners.
“…You mean idiot?”
Kar’galg was a term close to ‘fool’ in vulgar language, but as long as the tone wasn’t too harsh, it could mean foolish or silly. When I asked Roarock as if challenging him, he looked surprised.
“What? Do you understand our language?”
“I can speak a little.”
“…Well, this conversation is going faster than I thought. Good.”
Roarock nodded with a satisfied expression. He tapped the table with his thick fingers, then continued.
“Anyway, what would you do if it were a loaded gun instead of your guess? I could shoot you.”
“I know you wouldn’t.”
“On what grounds?”
“Because I’m sure that rifle isn’t loaded.”
“…”
Roarock’s mouth shut again. He twisted his nose in a resigned manner, then licked his lips and spoke.
“Tch… Right. You’re right. I ran out of ammo ages ago. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t shoot.”
“I knew.”
“…I’ve been feeling it since earlier, but you talk like the Elphir do. A pain to listen to.”
“Elves talk even more annoyingly than I do.”
“Haha! If only they could talk….”
He burst into laughter, then moved his body and stood up. The floor creaked under his military boots.
“Anyway, yes. I ate well. Are you going to live here from now on?”
Roarock asked, looking a bit excited. He seemed thrilled to be talking to a living person after a long time. I shook my head and replied.
“I’m going back in two days.”
“…I see. That makes sense.”
Roarock mumbled, turning his back to me. I couldn’t see his expression.
“…That makes sense. You’ll be going back home.”
“Yes.”
The old rifle was slung over Roarock’s shoulder. I could only watch him silently.
“I’m off then. Don’t ever come to the place we met earlier today again. I’ll really make you regret it next time.”
“……”
“Tch… Anyway, make sure to tell the human soldiers….”
“Roarock Ironhammer.”
As I called Roarock’s name, he froze as if nailed to the spot.
“Don’t you wonder how the war turned out?”
“…….”
Roarock turned to me. Unlike a moment ago when he had been enjoying his meal, a fierce expression settled on his face.
“…You, I mean.”
“Yes.”
“Hah… Don’t talk about useless things. I told you not to speak casually about Ztak’karaz.”
Ztak’karaz. It was a dwarven term composed of ‘ztak’ meaning mountain range and ‘karaz’ meaning battle.
This was the dwarven way of referring to the Great War. Roarock continued.
“Looking at your appearance, you seem to be a religious type believing in the human gods. If you’re just a civilian unrelated to that, don’t bring it up carelessly. This is my advice.”
“If I’m not related, you mean?”
“Yeah. It’s none of your business as a civilian. Understand?”
It seemed Roarock was under some misconception. I replied with a nonchalant expression.
“I’m also involved in the Great War.”
“What?”
Roarock’s eyebrows shot up, but the sight of him holding an unloaded rifle was not very intimidating.
“I, too, participated in the Great War.”
“…You.”
“I was a priest of the Empire’s Defense Force. I fought against you dwarves.”
“…….”
Roarock’s mouth clenched tightly. His gaze turned frosty.
And that frosty gaze was directed at me. The sharpness of his stare was such that I felt a prickly sensation on my skin.
“Are you serious about that?”
The question implied two meanings: whether it was true that I had participated in the Great War, or whether it was permissible to say that to a dwarf who had once been an enemy.
Or, perhaps, saying I participated in the Great War… did it mean that the war had ended?
He was asking with two meanings in mind, but I had only one answer to give.
“The Great War is over. About three years ago.”
Roarock’s eyes began to tremble violently. It seemed he wanted to say something, his beard shaking as his mouth opened and closed several times.
No words came out in the end.
– Thud!
The rifle hanging from Roarock’s shoulder fell loudly to the floor. I silently watched this unfold.
“…Really?”
After what felt like an eternity, Roarock asked with a cracking voice.
“Really, really, Ztak’karaz has ended?”
“Yes. It’s over.”
“Who, who won? More than that, what happened to the final offensive?”
“Your final offensive was thwarted, and in the end, the Empire emerged victorious. Roarock Ironhammer.”
“…….”
Upon hearing my words, Roarock simply collapsed.
“…Ha.”
An incredulous sigh escaped. I quietly watched him.
“Puh, puh.”
“…?”
“Puhahahaha—!!”
Roarock suddenly burst into loud laughter. His beard shook wildly, and he laughed so hard that tears nearly welled up in his eyes.
“Ha, I, I thought at least there’d been a truce negotiation or something, but what is this! Hahaha!!”
“……”
“Ugh, haha….”
Roarock’s laughter subsided. I patiently waited for him.
Once the laughter faded, Roarock began.
“…I came here four years ago.”
He spat it out like that, starting to tell a story. A dark feeling throbbed within me.
…What a base desire.
