Chapter 94 - You Can't Do It Empty-Handed (1)

Placing the Ballorhard Rangers, who had a good sense of direction, at the front, we headed west.

After walking for three full days, a wasteland filled with reddish soil appeared, and after another four days, a massive fortress built from stacked red stones revealed itself in the distance.

"We have arrived at the fortress city of Galbaram!"

At the words of the Ranger acting as our guide, Yorden, I briefly stopped walking and took in the sight of the fortress.

The fortress donated by the Dwarves to commemorate their friendship with the kingdom was still guarding this barren western wasteland even now, 400 years later.

The only difference between the past and present was that the masterpiece meticulously crafted by master artisans had been transformed into an eyesore by human hands.

Around the fortress, which was surrounded by haphazardly stacked walls and spires, indiscriminately expanded private houses and all sorts of buildings were lined up hideously.

"What a mess."

I couldn't be certain, but if they saw the fortress they donated turned into this state, the Dwarves would not just be appalled but would jump up and down in anger.

It was as expected.

"The Dwarves are not here."

The King clearly stated that the Dwarven delegation was staying at Galbaram Fortress. Yet, the person in charge of the fortress and the Legion Commander of the Western Legion said they had left this place.

When I asked for the reason, the answer was ridiculous.

He said they left the castle because it was too painful to look at the altered appearance of the fortress.

My party was dumbfounded, but I just laughed it off.

The stubborn artisans who hadn't changed even now, after 400 years, were vivid in my mind.

"They wouldn't have just returned, so where are they now?"

The Legion Commander stared intently at me.

It seemed he found it rather curious that I asked so casually.

Then again, anyone would be flustered to hear that a delegation on an official mission had deserted their posts for such a nonsensical reason.

But at the very least, that wasn't me.

To me, this behavior of the Dwarves was only natural.

Because they were stubborn fools who couldn't abandon their craftsmanship even on the battlefield.

"If you travel two days west of the fortress, there is a small hill. The delegation has been camping there since a month ago."

Saying so, the Legion Commander asked if there was anything else he could help me with.

I asked him to prepare a guide to lead us to the wasteland where the delegation was staying, along with a few supplies.

"I will have everything prepared by tomorrow."

Even as he said that, the Legion Commander's expression was utterly unenthusiastic.

Just restarting the long-severed friendship with the Dwarves would bring massive profits, yet the Legion Commander showed no great enthusiasm.

It was natural if one thought about it.

I heard that envoys from The Capital had already visited several times, yet not a single person had managed to have a proper conversation with them. In such a situation, to have a guy like me come to meet the delegation must have drained whatever motivation he had left.

In short, it could be said there was no expectation of me whatsoever. Just as the King naturally thought I would fail.

Whether he did or not, I paid it no mind.

After resting for a full day and stockpiling my stamina, I gathered my party and asked.

"Step forward if you think you won't lose to anyone when it comes to alcohol tolerance."

At the sudden question, the party looked at me with bewildered faces.

And then, they awkwardly rolled their eyes and started to gauge each other's reactions.

A bizarre tension that didn't fit the situation flowed through the air.

The first to break that tension and step forward wasn't a knight, but a Ranger.

"There's a saying at Winter Castle: when you think of a heavy drinker, you think of Yorden, and when you think of Yorden, you think of a heavy drinker."

At the words of Ranger Yorden as he smoothly stepped forward, the party members who had been watching each other scrambled to step in front of me.

"I'm confident I can drink better than Yorden, at the very least."

"I've never been drunk, so I don't know what my limit is."

"I've only ever not drunk because there was no alcohol, never because I was afraid of getting drunk."

As if they had never been sizing each other up, the party began chattering about how well they could drink.

"Not just anyone can become a Royal Knight."

I didn't know what the qualifications of a Royal Knight had to do with alcohol tolerance, but even Karl Ulrich stepped forward.

With almost everyone in the party having stepped forward, even Gawain, the man who considered me his sworn enemy, stepped forward.

It was absurd. I knew men had historically risked their lives on ignorant drinking bets, but I didn't think it'd be to this extent.

But it wasn't just the men.

STEP.

I widened my eyes as I looked at the woman standing in front of me.

"Arwen?"

"I don't enjoy it, but I don't think I'll drink any less than them."

At the calm yet confident voice, the men's eyebrows twitched.

It seemed Arwen's words had touched their pride.

"Almost everyone is out. Adelia. Do you want to join too?"

Adelia shook her head, saying she had never drunk alcohol before.

"Then you don't know your limit."

Since the Sword Marquis I knew was a massive drinker, I also included Adelia in the group claiming to be heavy drinkers.

Whether she was curious about the alcohol she had never tried before or not, she did not refuse.

CLAP.

Having gathered the people like that, I clapped my hands.

The soldiers of Galbaram Fortress grunted as they set down the barrels and left.

"Let's see."

I opened the lid of the barrel the soldiers had left behind.

"Ugh. The smell."

The pungent smell of alcohol spread in all directions.

It was an intense aroma that felt like it would make you drunk just by smelling it.

"Your Highness, what is this situation right now?"

Karl Ulrich stepped forward and asked as I was opening the barrel lids one by one.

"We have to determine who the real heavy drinkers are."

When I answered nonchalantly, Karl asked back as if it was ridiculous.

"All of a sudden?"

"Why? Are you not confident? If you aren't, then back out."

Karl retorted with an indignant face.

"I stake the honor of a Royal Knight."

"You aren't even a Royal Knight anymore."

"It means I'm just that confident."

While I was talking with Karl like that, Yorden asked from the back.

"Should we start right now?"

Before I knew it, everyone except Karl had already taken a seat and was holding a glass filled with alcohol.

"They've already started over there, you know?"

When I pointed to a corner, the party turned their heads at the same time.

Gawain, whose impression had been gloomy enough but had grown noticeably worse since returning from The Capital, was already tilting his glass with a face that looked like he was bearing all the burdens of the world.

"I can't lose."

"The first glass has to be downed in one go!"

Seeing that, the men simultaneously slammed their glasses to their mouths.

Among them was Arwen.

GULP.

Grabbing the glass with disciplined movements, she emptied the alcohol in a single breath. And then she immediately scooped more alcohol from the barrel and brought it back to her lips.

Stimulated, the men gulped, emptied their glasses, and filled them with alcohol once more.

"This isn't about drinking fast. It's about drinking a lot."

I explained the rules, but none of those in the hall listened to me.

Only Adelia timidly sipped from her glass while checking my reactions.

"Each of you take a person and count how many glasses they've drunk."

"Should I write it down?"

"There's no need to go that far, just keep a rough count."

At my words, the party members who weren't participating in the competition nodded and began counting for each of the participants.

"Kuh! This is good!"

"Who's leaving drops in the bottom of their glass!"

Leaving the party, who had now taken it upon themselves to start clinking glasses and having a drinking party, I stepped out of the hall.

The soldiers of the Western Army, seeing me, were startled and bowed their heads.

I instructed them to bring more alcohol immediately if it ran out.

* * *

The Legion Commander of the Western Army had been feeling noticeably heavy-hearted lately.

The noble guests who would bring immense wealth to the kingdom simply by establishing diplomatic relations had left the fortress, making nonsensical excuses. The Legion Commander worried whether he had been negligent in treating the delegation, and was anxious that the kingdom might suffer a great loss because of him.

After spending many sleepless nights agonizing over how to bring the delegation back and converse amicably, a fourth envoy from The Capital arrived at the fortress.

However, of all people, the envoy happened to be the eldest son of the royal family, considered a troublemaker even within the kingdom.

The First Prince's infamy wasn't what it used to be. He too had ears and had heard tales of the achievements the First Prince had made in the North.

But those were ultimately just rumors about the valor of a warrior. He couldn't fathom that the First Prince had any qualities capable of changing the minds of the difficult delegation.

"A guide to lead the way, and one hundred barrels of strong liquor. Quality does not matter."

The Legion Commander simply answered that he understood.

Because the First Prince's intentions were painfully obvious.

He merely thought the First Prince had also heard the rumors that the Dwarves were heavy drinkers.

He had no high expectations.

He had already procured high-quality alcohol several times and gifted it to the Dwarven delegation. But that alone was not enough to bring about a meeting.

He believed the First Prince would also fail.

If offering rare, fine liquors didn't work, what could he possibly do with cheap alcohol meant for soldiers?

Still, he prepared the alcohol as requested for now.

However, far from offering that alcohol to the Dwarven delegation, the First Prince used it to throw a drinking party amongst his own people.

It was absurd.

The Legion Commander clicked his tongue, thinking that although the First Prince had made a name for himself in battle, his character hadn't changed after all.

He couldn't understand at all why the King would send such a scoundrel as an envoy.

He thought that perhaps the kingdom had given up on reconnecting the severed friendship with the Dwarves.

"Phew."

While he was pacing around his quarters in frustration, a knight came running and reported.

"Your Excellency the Commander! You need to come out for a moment!"

When he asked the reason behind that urgent voice, he was told there was a complete uproar.

Still, since it involved royal blood, he grew anxious and hurried straight to where the First Prince and his subordinates were.

CRASH!

Startled by the crashing sound, the Legion Commander hurriedly stepped into the hall.

"Hic! Who was that!"

"You fell over on your own!"

A man sprawled on his back with a heavily flushed face was spouting nonsense, and the men standing next to him were giggling and laughing.

"What are you talking about! I'm telling you this is my twenty-ninth glass!"

"No, listen. I counted perfectly. The last one was your twenty-second, and the one you just drank is your twenty-third."

"This guy is trying to trick me."

Men raising their voices with heavily slurred speech caught his eye.

"Sob. I miss you. John. Why did you go first. John."

"Stop whining. You bastard. If you act like that, I'll..."

He also saw men pathetically hugging each other and crying.

And in a corner of it all, there was the First Prince.

"He and he are disqualified. Don't give them any more alcohol."

The First Prince was even clicking his tongue while watching the disgraceful behavior of his subordinates.

"For now, Yorden, Karl, Arwen, Gawain. Oh, Adelia is still alive."

"She's been sitting like that with one glass for a while now."

"Really? Well, she's still alive, regardless."

Unable to bear watching the First Prince chuckling and marveling to himself over whatever he was doing, the Legion Commander let out a fake cough.

"Your Highness. What are you doing right now?"

"Exactly what you see."

He ought to have been embarrassed, but the First Prince's face was nothing but shameless.

"Did you not say you would depart the morning after tomorrow to meet the delegation?"

He asked mildly, wondering what this bizarre behavior was ahead of such a crucial mission.

But the First Prince didn't bat an eye.

"That's why I'm conducting a simple test before meeting the delegation."

"What does that..."

"Because Dwarves go crazy for alcohol."

The Legion Commander let out a sigh.

"The envoys from The Capital have already treated them to alcohol several times. I, too, have faithfully offered them fine liquor over the past month, but their attitude has not changed."

At those words, the First Prince clicked his tongue.

"You shouldn't have offered it over a month, you should have given them a month's worth all at once."

As the Commander stared blankly at the First Prince, who asked as if he didn't even know basic common sense, the Prince added another remark.

"And the Dwarves like the friend who brings the alcohol more than the alcohol gift itself."

"Whatever do you mean."

"You can't just give it to them. You have to drink together. Ah, take Karl out too. His eyes are unfocused."

The pointed-out knight was startled and threw a fit, claiming he wasn't drunk.

"You circulated your Circuit. Disqualified."

"Your Highness. You didn't say anything about that."

"Isn't that basic drinking etiquette?"

The knight, who had been shouting about how unfair it was, dropped his head with a slump.

Clicking his tongue, the First Prince turned his head again.

"The Dwarves don't talk for long if you aren't their friend. And the fastest way to become friends with Dwarves is..."

The First Prince's outstretched finger pointed to the hall that had turned into a mess.

"To pour, drink, and die together."

As the Legion Commander stared at the First Prince in bewilderment, the First Prince abruptly sprang to his feet.

"Hey! Grab her! No!"

Unlike before, the voice was urgent, and the Legion Commander turned his head.

There stood a woman, glaring at the table with her head deeply bowed.

"God damn it!"

As he watched the First Prince vault over the table and rush toward the woman, a chilling voice reached his ears.

"Why did you do that to me..."

A voice that sounded almost like a sob.

"Adelia! No!"

At that moment, a reddish-yellow light flowed from the woman's eyes.

* * *

Due to Adelia's unexpected rampage, the drinking party came to a premature end, but by then, it had already been roughly sorted out who had the talent to drink with the Dwarves.

The people who survived until the very end of the drinking party were Arwen, Yorden, and Gawain, making a total of three.

Among them, the most sober was Arwen.

Surprisingly, even after drinking so much alcohol, her complexion hadn't changed at all. If it weren't for the reeking smell of alcohol, it would have been believable to say she hadn't drunk at all.

Yorden and Gawain also showed some signs of intoxication, but they held out until the end.

Karl, who had driven away the intoxication by circulating his energy, was similarly fine, but I excluded him from the roster.

Because Dwarves greatly despised those who used mana during a drinking party.

I also excluded Adelia.

She had inherited her ancestor's talents, but she hadn't inherited their alcohol tolerance. She became completely drunk after just one glass and exhibited a terrible drinking habit.

I couldn't have imagined that she, who was incredibly gentle as long as her brutal traits didn't act up, would have such a drinking habit.

And the price of that ignorance was horrific.

Even the Poem of Subordination did not work on her when she was drunk and running amok. And the rampage of a person on the verge of the Sword Master stage was a furious one that was not easily suppressed.

Thanks to that, the innocent furnishings of the hall were all smashed to pieces, and the knights who tried to stop her ended up with bruises on their faces. I too had to go through all sorts of trouble trying to stop her.

It was to the point where it could be called heavenly luck that no one died.

I refused to see that sight again.

"Avoid touching alcohol if you can help it."

"I am sorry. Your Highness."

Adelia deeply bowed her head and apologized.

Since I didn't intend to scold her any further, I just gave her a few more warnings and left it at that.

"The drinking party from the day before was because alcohol is essential in dealing with the Dwarven delegation."

After the drinking party ended, I explained what the previous day's drinking party had meant and asked the intentions of those who had survived until the end.

Arwen and Yorden naturally agreed. The unexpected one was Gawain.

The man, who was like a vengeful ghost sharpening his sword and waiting only for the day of his revenge, had voluntarily volunteered for the meeting with the Dwarves.

I asked him the reason, but he didn't answer.

Then again, we weren't in a relationship where we could comfortably ask and answer each other.

After roughly sorting out the personnel, we loaded three carriages full of alcohol barrels and left the fortress.

"It is right there. If you turn that hill, you'll find the Dwarves' camp."

The soldier from the Western Army, who had tagged along as a guide, pointed to a hill visible in the distance.

"Good. Everyone unpack here and prepare to make camp."

Leaving Karl and the rest of the party behind, I separately called out Arwen, Yorden, and Gawain, whose alcohol tolerances had been proven, and put them in the carriages.

We each drove a carriage and went around the hill.

And right there was the Dwarves' camp.

Stocky figures surrounding a campfire—even though they must have clearly noticed our party's arrival, the Dwarves kept their backs turned and didn't even look back.

But it was crystal clear to my eyes.

The faces of heavy drinkers, pricking up their ears at the sloshing sound of the contents inside the alcohol barrels loaded onto the carriages.

"Stop."

The carriages stopped in front of the Dwarves' camp.

"Wait here."

Hopping down from the carriage, I hoisted a barrel of alcohol onto my shoulder. And then I went straight to the campfire and sat down among the Dwarves.

THUD.

The Dwarves, who had been feigning ignorance, only then turned to look at me.

Looking at them, I uncorked the barrel. Through the dry air of the wasteland, a nose-tingling aroma of alcohol spread out.

GULP.

Watching the Dwarves' throats bob, I smirked.

"Let's empty a barrel first."