I Will Try to Save My Dad - Chapter 89

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 89

A few weeks ago.
Count Trabel had given me advance notice that he would be visiting the Dwarf Village.
‘This is my chance to find out what’s in the Crest Mine!’
Asking my agent Zena Chaser to probe into Baltar’s true intentions went beyond the scope of her duties.
So I would have to confront him myself.
The problem was that I, visiting the Dwarf Village, was not Baron Oldman but merely a seven-year-old child of the Trabel Family.
‘Would Baltar be the type to engage in casual conversation with a child?’
While there were slight variations from individual to individual, different races fundamentally shared similar behaviors, tendencies, and temperaments within their own kind.
Recalling Marshall Grandmother, she didn’t treat children poorly. However, she often told them to go play on their own, saying they were bothersome.
‘I need to get information from Marshall Grandmother!’
Marshall Grandmother was on my side—she knew Baron Oldman’s true identity. I requested advice from her through Zena Chaser, asking her to tell me a few things about Baltar since I was going on an educational field trip to the Dwarf Village and wanted to become closer to the clan leader.
A reply came shortly after.

“That old man Baltar has nothing but a blacksmith’s spirit in his head. He’s also the type who still despises the Trabel Count Family because of something the Count did three generations ago,” the telegram read.

Zena Chaser received Grandmother’s reply, and Jack Jack informed me of its contents.
For me, who had been searching for a way to gain the clan leader’s favor, it was quite useful information.
‘A blacksmith’s spirit? Craftsmanship, then!’
In that case, it was good to have some knowledge in that field. With such craftsmanship, Baltar’s conversational background would likely center on that area.
‘Fortunately, I don’t need to cram for this~’
I had considerable knowledge of minerals, even to the point of being skilled at gem appraisal. The Trabel Family had built its initial wealth through mines, so I had diligently studied that knowledge in secret.
And all that knowledge remained intact in my mind!

“Young human blood stains the best.”

When I actually met Baltar, it was clear he disliked children.
I wondered if it was even more pronounced because I was the youngest granddaughter of Count Trabel.
‘Interesting.’
Then what if I delivered a shock so great that he forgot I was from the Trabel Family?
This wasn’t the Trabel Estate. Count Trabel already knew of my capabilities, and with no guarantee of when I could return to the Dwarf Village, it was worth attempting.
The result was—.

“When melting iron, the temperature rises to 1,200 degrees. That heat spreads to the ground as well. That’s why this place, far from the furnace, is still so hot.”
A resounding success!
Baltar was currently giving me a tour of the Dwarf Village Blacksmith.
Since each of the Dwarves’ master blacksmiths pursued different working environments, they maintained multiple forges so craftsmen could work wherever suited them best.

Clang. Clang.
The sound of hammers striking heated metal echoed from every corner.
“Wow. Don’t you find it exhausting working right in front of such a high-temperature furnace?”
“That’s what it means to be a blacksmith. Our sweat melts into the flames.”
“Wow.”
I watched from a distance as the Dwarf craftsman performed his forging work. With each hammer strike, the glowing red iron transformed into whatever shape the master desired upon the anvil.
Glancing to the side, I noticed Baltar’s expression was intensely serious—the same earnest gaze I’d seen in Theon’s and Father’s eyes when they held their swords, a look that spoke of genuine devotion to one’s craft.
‘Should I broach the subject now?’
The blacksmith tour had been fascinating, but since I was here for an educational visit, my available time was limited.
I had only two hours of free time.
I posed a question to Baltar as though something had been puzzling me.
“By the way, Baltar, why is the most perfect gemstone a pearl?”
My question visibly startled him.
‘So that wasn’t it…!’
If the answer truly had been a pearl, he wouldn’t have reacted like that. Baltar swallowed hard, like someone caught red-handed with hidden savings.
“W-why a pearl?”
“Yes!”
“W-well, I sent a reply to the Trabel Estate, and I included the reason in that letter.”
Baltar clearly lacked talent for deception.
His massive hands—capable of shattering iron swords—trembled slightly, and despite his composed tone, his eyes darted nervously about.
“Ah! Over there, let me introduce you to another Dwarf craftsman—”
‘Oh no.’
He was clearly trying to escape the situation by drawing someone else into the conversation.
I interjected before he could finish speaking.
“I thought the Dwarves would consider something far more magnificent as the perfect gemstone!”
“….”
He froze.
Baltar’s hand, which had been reaching out to call another master craftsman, stopped mid-air.
“Something more magnificent? …Do you think my choice of pearl was wrong?”
“I don’t think it’s wrong—that’s subjective, after all. But pearls are so fragile that I thought the Dwarves wouldn’t favor them.”
“…Why did you think that?”
“Because the Dwarves I read about in books were incredibly strong—”
“Hmm.”
Interesting. Baltar suddenly straightened his posture and cleared his throat.
“…with muscles honed through labor that are quite magnificent…?”
“Hmm.”
“So the Dwarves’ blacksmithing abilities are far superior to other races…?”
“Ahem—!”
“And…”
They’re susceptible to flattery…?
I exhaled through my nose, gazing up at Baltar’s confident face as the thought crystallized.
I could probably unearth whatever lies hidden in the Crest Mine far faster than expected.

***

“Reytan!”
Priest Holte, a high-ranking priest of the Aubaut Order, greeted Reytan warmly as he entered the Banquet Hall.
He had been invited to the Order’s grand annual gathering—an event that drew nearly a thousand attendees each year, hosting royalty and nobility from various nations affiliated with the Aubaut Order.
“Thank you for traveling such a distance. I trust the journey was not too taxing?”
“Yes. You must be quite busy.”
“Things are a bit hectic, but it’s manageable. It’s a major event with many distinguished guests, after all.”
Priest Holte turned to Theon, who stood beside Reytan, offering a warm smile. They had become acquainted during the previous visit to the Grand Temple when dealing with Windis’s rampage.
“So Theon came as well.”
“Hello.”
“The High Priest spoke highly of you. Didn’t Berry come with you?”
Theon was startled to learn that the High Priest had praised him, but at the mention of Berry, he composed himself and shook his head.
“She’s on a field trip.”
“Oh, is that why you seem out of sorts?”
“Me…?”
“Perhaps not. Ah, a group is arriving. Reytan, allow me to show you to your seats.”
With that, Priest Holte ended his conversation with Theon as more guests streamed into the Banquet Hall.
Following Priest Holte’s guidance, Reytan and Theon moved forward. Theon was turning over the priest’s words in his mind.
It wasn’t that he was in a bad mood, but the morning had felt unusually quiet, and that quietness lingered.
‘It’s because Berry isn’t here.’
Reytan placed a hand atop Theon’s head. The boy looked up at his master. Reytan’s lips curved into a smile as he asked.
“Quite a crowd, isn’t there?”
“Yes.”
“Just sit and we’ll leave later. When the High Priest and the Emperor appear, all you need to do is applaud properly. It’s a simple affair, nothing more.”
He had meant to encourage his unusually stiff disciple, thinking the scale of the event had intimidated Theon.
Yet it seemed to have the opposite effect.
“…”
At his words, the boy’s pupils trembled.
If I say anything more, he’ll cry. Reytan summoned a gentle breeze and offered his disciple another word of encouragement.

***

I sat in a wooden chair, surrounded by Dwarf blacksmiths.
The effect of my praise had been far too potent.
The chieftain had summoned the blacksmiths of the forge one by one based on my flattery, and now we had arrived at this very situation.
“Strong and magnificent Dwarves!”
“The world’s greatest blacksmiths!”
“Of course!”
The Dwarf blacksmiths, repeating my exact words, flexed their arm muscles and toasted with wooden cups of water.
‘Oh no.’
It felt like Callet would arrive any moment now and insist we leave.
Growing anxious, I raised one arm high among the Dwarf blacksmiths.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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