Wanna Come With Us? (1)
Had it been his usual state, a single blow from Grondal would've been enough to knock Torvalt out. But the weakened Grondal's strike was something even Torvalt could endure.
He clutched his head and shouted.
"Please, just talk it out! With words! It's because of this constant nonsense that I ran away! Do you know how old I am now?!"
"You, you bratty rascal, who do you think you're talking back to?!"
Unable to contain his temper, Grondal smacked Torvalt again. The nearby dwarves rushed in to restrain Grondal.
"Please stop!"
"There are outsiders here, this is embarrassing..."
"Let's save the beatings for when we're alone!"
Thanks to the dwarves trying to hold him back, the fuming Grondal stepped back, breathing heavily.
One of the dwarves gave Ghislain's party an awkward smile and said,
"Sorry you had to see that. Our prince here's a real troublemaker..."
Everyone nodded with blank expressions.
Grondal, who swung fists before speaking, was certainly a problem, but no one seemed to be siding with Torvalt either. It truly seemed he was treated like a total scoundrel here.
Former scoundrel (?) Ghislain gave an awkward smile as he watched the violent father-son dynamic.
'Hmm, yeah, getting beat like that... no wonder he turned out like this.'
Ghislain himself hadn't experienced any domestic violence. If anything, he was raised with nothing but love by Belinda.
And yet, he still grew up to be a walking disaster. So he could understand someone like Torvalt turning out the way he did.
'Well... dwarf parenting styles are infamous for being harsh after all...'
Most of them were warriors or blacksmiths, so rough tempers were inevitable.
Of course, dwarves often disguised this under the names of "warrior's pride" or "coolness," and had no intention of changing.
In such an environment, a rebel like Torvalt wasn't surprising at all.
Having taken a few hits from Grondal, Torvalt slipped back and shouted,
"Anyway, Gramdir should be given to this man! Isn't it our dwarven belief that a treasure must go to one who is worthy?!"
At his words, the other dwarves nodded.
For craftsmen like them, there's a sacred principle — no matter how great a masterpiece they create, they must not become attached to it. Only by doing so can they keep improving.
If kept nearby, their hearts would inevitably be drawn to it, so they gave their creations to those worthy, without hesitation.
This teaching had been passed down through generations of dwarves and never forgotten.
Bolstered by the dwarves' reactions, Torvalt cried out again.
"Gramdir is a weapon in the end! It must be wielded by someone strong! Father, you don't even use swords, do you?! That human fought valiantly with Gramdir! If he's not worthy, who is?!"
Now a full-blown follower of Ghislain, Torvalt continued with spittle flying.
"And he helped us dwarves! Are you saying that treasure's too precious for someone like him?! Are you saying that treasure is more important than the future of Valskrum and the lives of dwarves?!"
Again, the dwarves nodded.
No matter how precious a treasure, it couldn't be more important than Valskrum.
If Valskrum were to fall, all treasures would be taken or destroyed anyway.
Grondal glared at Torvalt with a sour expression.
'He's not wrong.'
He agreed with the sentiment.
He was just hot-tempered and had intended to seize Gramdir first and sort things out later.
While he was at it, he also planned to spar with that Astion fellow.
But even if it's the right thing, it matters who says it.
"Since when do thieves get to lecture me?!"
Whack!
"Argh!"
Torvalt shielded his face as Grondal's fist flew in without warning. Grondal's punches rained down again, merciless.
"You pathetic punk. You think I'd be moved by a thief telling me what to do?!"
If it had been another dwarf who said those things, Grondal would've calmed down and agreed.
The Yulian Mercenaries were honored guests and benefactors of Valskrum. Giving up a few treasures to them wasn't hard.
But having his own disobedient, scoundrel of a son lecture him — that was something he couldn't stomach.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
With Grondal's fists flying again, Torvalt stumbled back and shouted in frustration.
"Argh, can you stop already?! Is violence your only way of communicating?!"
"Oh? Dodging me now? Get back here!"
"This is exactly why I don't want to be here! You only know how to hit!"
"You keep causing trouble! You need more beatings!"
Torvalt didn't want to be with his ill-tempered father anymore. No — to be precise, he didn't want to live with the dwarves at all.
Like any dwarf, he enjoyed crafting. But he could never get used to the rough and rigid society they lived in.
That's why he left home. He planned to earn some money in the trade city and move elsewhere.
As for stealing Gramdir — that was just to piss Grondal off.
Beating his chest while being held back by other dwarves, Grondal yelled,
"Argh! I can't believe such a pathetic brat is my son!"
He acknowledged his own temper, but his son's lack of backbone drove him mad.
He tried to be stricter because of it. But the stricter he was, the more Torvalt acted out, and it made him want to explode.
Ghislain and the Yulian Mercenaries could only watch awkwardly. It wasn't their place to interfere in a family matter.
Instead, Ghislain looked between Grondal and Torvalt several times, trying to recall something.
'The face of the dwarf king in the dream...'
Both had beards and looked similar, so it was hard to tell. In the dream, the figure had been far away and slightly blurry.
After some thought, Ghislain shook his head.
'I don't think it was Torvalt.'
Unlike Erenes, he had neither talent nor interest in combat. There was no way someone like that could have unleashed such power in the Great War.
In the dream, the dwarf king had wielded a massive halberd — the same weapon Grondal was using now.
'Hmm... So maybe Grondal wasn't fated to die here after all?'
Even without Ghislain's interference, perhaps Grondal would've survived.
And then gone on to lead the remaining dwarves into the Great War.
It wasn't impossible. If Lahamod had completely destroyed the elven forest, there wouldn't have been two prophets showing up here.
In other words, perhaps only Iraniel had died in the past.
So then, what was Torvalt's role in that past?
'Just... a thief, I guess.'
Honestly, Ghislain couldn't think of anything else.
Still, being Grondal's son, it was possible Torvalt had once taken on an important role. The skill with which he stole Gramdir was no small feat, after all.
Grondal and Torvalt were glaring at each other, both breathing heavily.
Ghislain fell into thought for a moment.
Strangely, he kept feeling drawn to Torvalt. So he spoke his honest thoughts.
"Hey, wanna come with us?"
"......?"
Torvalt looked at Ghislain with a shocked expression. Everyone else was just as surprised.
Ghislain shrugged and continued.
"From what I see, you don't really fit in here and just get treated like dirt. I'm saying, why not come travel with us for a bit? You can gain a lot by experiencing the world outside. What do you say?"
When Ghislain turned to Grondal and asked, Grondal nodded and shouted.
"Sure! Take that brat with you! I'll give you whatever you want, just take him along and knock some sense into him!"
He knew that Erenes had joined the Yulian Mercenaries with Iraniel's permission.
Iraniel was an exceptionally wise elf. At least in terms of wisdom, she was in a whole different league than him.
If someone like Iraniel had given her approval, it meant that the Yulian Mercenaries were trustworthy.
In fact, Grondal himself held the Yulian Mercenaries in high regard. Not only were they powerful, but their character was equally admirable.
With people like that, Torvalt might finally come to his senses.
'The outside world is dangerous, sure... but I can't let him live like such a disgrace any longer.'
He had treated his son harshly, but it was all rooted in affection. If he didn't care, he wouldn't have gotten angry in the first place.
For the sake of the son he loved, Grondal was ready to let him go, even if it meant facing danger. He felt that with his own strength, he could no longer guide him.
The other dwarves thought Torvalt would accept without hesitation. After all, he had always hated being in Valskrum.
Erenes in particular could understand Torvalt to a degree. She too had hated being confined to the elven forest.
"......."
Torvalt looked around at the people in silence.
Valskrum had always been a place he wanted to escape.
This time, he was determined to leave for good and even went so far as to steal Gramdir.
But after seeing the Yulian Mercenaries fight, something changed in him.
'I want to be with them.'
Watching their battle, he genuinely felt that.
He wanted to go on adventures with them. His heart raced with the intensity of that desire.
And then he felt something strange.
'It's like... my place is there.'
Torvalt was certain of it.
It wasn't just a fleeting desire to tag along with them.
It was an inexplicable pull. A conviction that he was meant to be a part of the Yulian Mercenaries.
It was a certainty so overwhelming, it felt like fate or duty.
And the offer he'd just received proved that the feeling he'd had was real.
But...….
Torvalt shook his head.
"No, I'll stay here."
At those words, even Grondal and the other dwarves were surprised.
Torvalt had always gone on about how much he wanted to leave Valskrum. He'd even tried running away several times.
They thought he'd be thrilled to leave — but now he was turning it down?
With a serious expression, Torvalt looked at Grondal.
"Father."
"........What is it?"
"I want to become strong like you."
".....!!!"
Grondal stared at Torvalt with a blank expression.
This was the same son who always ran from becoming a warrior. No matter how many beatings he gave, the boy wouldn't listen.
And now, those very lips were saying something like this!
Grondal stammered as he asked,
"W-what are you saying?"
"Exactly what I said. I want to become the strongest dwarf, just like you."
Torvalt hadn't only watched the Yulian Mercenaries fight.
He also saw how powerful and honorable his father truly was.
He'd only ever heard people say Grondal was the strongest dwarf. He had never actually seen his father fight.
Growing up, all he ever saw was a man constantly drinking or throwing half-hearted punches.
But seeing him risk his life to protect the dwarves...
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call him the true guardian of Valskrum.
He didn't even falter against those powerful prophets. In fact, in one-on-one combat, he may have even had the edge.
He'd never imagined that his drunk, abusive father could look so... incredible.
Watching that fight, Torvalt gained a new dream.
'I want to be strong like Father.'
He didn't want to wander aimlessly anymore.
He wanted to devote himself to a purpose, to achieve something.
Protector of Valskrum.
That had become his new dream.
And the one to guide him toward that dream was closer than anyone.
His own father.
With a disbelieving expression, Grondal stammered,
"R-really? You're saying you want to become a warrior now?"
"Yes. I've realized how much time I've wasted. I'm not going to run away anymore."
Torvalt used to hate fighting. He feared the harsh life of a warrior and always avoided it.
He had a strong artistic nature, more inclined toward imagining and crafting things.
All dwarves shared that to some extent, but because of his status, Torvalt was expected to focus more on warrior training.
He'd run from that, but now he understood he couldn't do that anymore.
Sometimes, even if it's something you hate, you have to do it.
Just like how his father, Grondal, had risked his life fighting the enemy.
Seeing Torvalt speak with such confidence, Ghislain couldn't help but admire him slightly.
'He's changed.'
The atmosphere around him had shifted. A heavy resolve emanated from him — something only found in those who had cast aside their doubts.
And then, Ghislain felt something strange.
'Huh?'
He instinctively looked around.
It wasn't just that Torvalt had changed.
He sensed something deeper — something fundamental had shifted.
But he couldn't explain exactly what had changed.
Grondal, beaming, grabbed Torvalt's shoulders.
"Well said! Very well said! You've finally come to your senses! That's right! That's the way to shoulder your responsibility!"
True to his boisterous and straightforward nature, Grondal forgot all about scolding Torvalt just moments earlier and let out a hearty laugh.
He was simply happy that the son who'd given him so much grief had finally turned a new leaf.
The other dwarves smiled contently as well. Unlike humans, they didn't question Torvalt's sincerity or say they'd be watching to see if he proved it.
They believed and supported him based on his resolve alone.
The tense atmosphere instantly turned warm and cheerful.
Torvalt smiled and said to Ghislain,
"Thanks for the offer. I really do want to join the Yulian Mercenaries someday... but I don't want to run away from what I have to do."
"No, that's a good decision. Everyone goes through a wandering phase. What matters is that you've now found your path."
The two smiled and shook hands.
Though he felt a bit of regret, Torvalt believed he had made the right choice.
This was his path, his destiny. He had finally found the right direction.
He was sure of it...
But then—
Thunk.
Torvalt felt something in his mind snap.
'This is... this feeling is...…..'
The conviction he had just moments ago while watching the Yulian Mercenaries...….
Was slowly fading away.
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