The Lord Just Wants to Have Fun

“What? Why not?”

“Because that crop was given to humans by the demons with the intent to destroy them. It’s easy to farm and highly productive, but it quickly depletes the soil and can even drive those who consume it insane.”

That’s why, even where it was cultivated, it was only used as livestock feed.

However, upon hearing Helen’s explanation, Philip’s curiosity only grew stronger.

A particular crop came to mind as he listened.

“Hey, shopkeeper. Bring me that ‘Tooth Bean’.”

“My lord!”

“It’s fine, Helen. As far as I know, it’s safe as long as you take a few precautions.”

A short while later, the shopkeeper returned from the storage room with a bag of Tooth Beans.

Seeing the yellow kernels, packed together like rows of teeth, Philip smirked.

It was exactly what he thought.

‘Heh, heh, heh—popcorn, get!’

Having acquired crops that would enrich his table, Philip continued to explore the market.

His hopes were high that he might find other familiar crops from Earth, like soybeans, peanuts, or corn.

However, he found nothing new.

Most stores were dealing in spices like pepper, cinnamon, and saffron, or in sugar.

‘Well, of course. Merchants bring in valuable spices, not strange crops they don’t even know how to use.’

Still, obtaining those three crops was already a significant gain.

Satisfied, Philip purchased additional sugar and spices before heading back to his lodging.

On the way, he came across a rather large workshop.

Noticing his gaze, Helen explained,

“That’s a smithy run by Dwarven artisans. They craft exceptionally high-quality armor and weapons.”

“Ah, so that’s the famous Dwarven workshop.”

Philip recalled what Hans had mentioned before.

That there was a Dwarven forge here in Campania.

‘Dwarves are said to be the greatest artisans not only on the Laterran continent but in this entire world.’

According to the memories of this body’s original owner, dwarves primarily lived in underground cities beneath mineral-rich mountains.

Broad shoulders and muscular limbs.

Born with the perfect physique for blacksmithing and mining, they were also highly skilled in carving and construction.

“No wonder nobles and rulers hold them in such high regard.”

“They wouldn’t dare try to enslave them, would they?”

Philip asked, recalling the common fantasy trope from Earth’s novels.

Helen’s face immediately hardened.

“My lord, please be careful what you say. Dwarves have an incredibly strong sense of pride. They would sooner die than become slaves.”

“So even if they’re short, they’ve got dignity, huh?”

There had, of course, been past attempts by lords and rulers to enslave dwarves.

But every single one of them had met ruin.

Without access to superior dwarven-forged weapons, their military power weakened, and the dwarven underground city-states even waged war to rescue their oppressed kin.

“Are Dwarven armies that strong?”

“A professor at Socra College once said that a single Dwarven warrior armed with Dwarven-made weapons is equivalent to three human knights.

On top of that, the dwarves have a terrifying weapon known as ‘Dragon Breath’.”

“Dragon Breath? What’s that?”

“It’s a secret weapon of the dwarves. According to historical records from those who’ve fought against them, it felt as if they were engulfed in the flames of an actual dragon.”

Due to the dwarves’ strict secrecy, very few people had actually witnessed Dragon Breath firsthand.

From Helen’s explanation, Philip speculated that it was likely some kind of incendiary explosive or flamethrower.

His curiosity about the dwarves deepened.

“Would it be possible to tour their smithy?”

“That would be impossible. The dwarves are very reluctant to show outsiders their techniques.”

“Even though I’m an Apostle of Eldir, the god of fire and blacksmiths?”

“While dwarves do worship Eldir, I’ve heard that they’re extremely rigid when it comes to sharing their technology.”

Apparently, the only techniques they were willing to teach humans were the most basic ones.

Advanced steel and alloy forging techniques were strictly guarded secrets.

Philip turned to Mau.

“Mau, do dwarves really turn away even an Apostle of Eldir?”

As soon as he returned to his lodgings, Philip immediately called upon his guardian angel, Mau, to confirm his thoughts.

In truth, they weren’t Eldir’s descendants. Their ancestors were once fairies who served as Eldir’s assistants in the mythical age.

But the dwarves firmly believed that they were the offspring of the god himself.

“I’m not looking to learn, just to observe.”

Philip wanted to compare his knowledge from Earth with the dwarves’ craftsmanship.

That way, he could decide whether to seek their help or use his own technological superiority to entice them.

“Is there any way to get close to them?”

“Oh? Now that’s interesting.”

An idea popped into Philip’s head—one that could melt away dwarven pride.

Without hesitation, he got up from his seat.

There were preparations to be made before he could put his plan into action.

******

Philip visited the dwarven smithy.

At the entrance, heavily armored dwarven warriors stood guard, wielding massive halberds.

As soon as Philip’s group approached, they crossed their weapons in an ‘X’ to block their path.

“Our smithy does not welcome outsiders. Leave at once.”

Their arrogant words made Terry scowl.

But before he could say anything, Philip stopped him and spoke in a friendly manner.

“I am Philip de Brandel, Apostle of Eldir. I bring a gift for the master of this workshop.”

“A gift?”

“Of course, I have something for you all as well.”

At Philip’s signal, Helen lifted the lid of the basket she was carrying.

“Hah?! What is this smell…?”

“Such an incredible aroma!”

The rich, savory scent of oil wafted from the basket, making the dwarven warriors’ mouths water.

Philip then took out the food he had prepared—crispy, deep-fried chicken coated in a flour batter.

It was fried chicken.

“This… this is the best chicken I’ve ever had!”

“It tastes even better with beer.”

Philip handed them chicken and beer, and the dwarves devoured it with greedy enthusiasm.

“Burp—! This is a marvelous gift. We shall take you to the master immediately.”

Philip and his group followed one of the dwarven guards into a room attached to the smithy.

The master smith frowned at the unexpected visit from humans.

But when he tasted the chicken and beer Philip offered, his expression softened into a satisfied smile.

“Ho! This is truly food fit for the heavens!”

‘I knew this would work.’

Fried chicken did exist in this world.

However, most attempts resulted in tough, greasy meat with an unpleasant aftertaste.

Philip’s version had none of those issues.

Before seasoning with salt and pepper, he had soaked the meat in alcohol and milk to remove any unwanted smells, then marinated it in honey to tenderize it.

On top of that, he added breadcrumbs to the batter and double-fried the chicken for extra crispiness.

‘Hah, I knew watching all those cooking videos on Y-Tube would pay off.’

Feeling quite proud of himself, Philip listened as the master smith finally spoke.

“So, you say you are an Apostle of Eldir?”

“Yes, my name is Philip de Brandel.”

“Ah, so you’re the noble who shared some mysterious technique with Delpharos.”

Though the method of lead separation hadn’t been leaked, rumors of his trade dealings had spread.

However, the dwarven master didn’t press Philip for details.

He knew all too well how strictly guarded trade secrets were, so he didn’t expect Philip to share them.

“Well then, what brings you here with such a fine gift?”

“I’d like to take a tour of your smithy.”

“A tour, huh… Normally, we don’t allow outsiders to see our work, but in honor of Eldir and this wonderful offering, I’ll make an exception.”

Simply observing would not be enough to steal and learn dwarven techniques.

Besides, how much could a noble possibly know about smithing?

Even if Eldir himself had taught Philip, the dwarves wouldn’t take him seriously.

‘No human who has ever claimed to be an Apostle of Eldir has surpassed dwarven master blacksmiths. This black-haired young man won’t be an exception either.’

This was the reasoning behind the smithy master’s decision to allow Philip to enter.

Sizzle! Hiss!

Clang! Clang!

As they stepped inside, the deafening sounds of hammering, bellows roaring, and machinery at work filled the air.

The smithy was even larger than it appeared from the outside.

Philip nodded in approval. “The scale is quite impressive.”

“Hah! This is nothing. Our homeland is full of smithies of this size.”

Inside, dwarves were hard at work, their hammering and tool handling as precise as machines.

Philip admired their extreme focus. ‘No wonder they produce such masterpieces.’

However, despite their skill, the facilities themselves weren’t particularly impressive.

The blast furnace was quite large and well-developed, but it didn’t compare to the open-hearth furnace Philip had introduced.

And while the tools and machines they used were advanced compared to ordinary blacksmiths, they were not superior to those in Philip’s own forge.

What did stand out was the variety of metals they worked with beyond just iron and copper.

Then, Philip spotted a peculiar grayish-white stone among the materials.

His eyes widened.

‘Is that… manganese?’

Manganese was a brittle mineral, but it was one of the most important alloying elements for steel.

It helped remove sulfur in the refining process, prevented air bubbles and micro-cracks, and significantly strengthened steel.

‘Manganese alloy steel is perfect for armor and sword-making! Not to mention, it’s also ideal for gun barrels. Where on earth did the dwarves find this?’

Philip had been searching for manganese himself.

But neither Old Man Hans nor any human blacksmiths knew about it, and the miners he consulted had never even heard of it.

‘Maybe they imported it from their homeland.’

As he pondered this, a commotion erupted from one corner of the smithy.

“What’s going on?”

“The waterwheel’s rotation shaft has caught fire!”

“Ugh! You fools! How could you let this happen?!”

The master blacksmith scowled as the dwarves scrambled to extinguish the flames.

Just then, he noticed Philip standing nearby, observing the scene.

Quickly, he tried to justify the situation.

“Ahem. This sort of thing happens occasionally when we’re busy. If the oil on the rotation shaft dries out and friction continues, it can catch fire.”

Philip frowned.

“You don’t use bearings?”

“Huh? What’s that?”

The master blacksmith looked completely clueless.

Philip knelt down and used a piece of charcoal to sketch on the ground as he explained.

“A bearing is a component that allows the shaft to rotate smoothly while reducing heat and wear caused by friction.”

As Philip explained, the master blacksmith’s eyes gleamed with realization.

He immediately grasped how useful this device would be.

“So… by rolling spheres or cylinders inside, it reduces friction?”

“Yes. Wood can be used, but for long-term durability, metal is the best choice.”

“That makes sense, considering the weight and rotational speed of the waterwheel…”

Before long, the two of them were huddled together, deep in discussion.

The master blacksmith quickly realized that this was not something he had ever seen before—not in his homeland, nor anywhere in the Dwarven Kingdom.

With a puzzled expression, he asked Philip,

“…Where did you learn something like this?”