17-4 Stiflingly Hot-Blooded Men

I steeled myself and decided to head over to where the muscle-bound old men were.

The visual gap compared to the children of Elmia I had been with just earlier was far too severe.

The saving grace was that the dwarf girls were cute.

They were not as huge as the men.

Passing through that world of muscle tales, I decided to aim for the royal palace, whose location I had struggled to ask about along the way.

Why did I have to suffer this much just to ask for directions?

If this were Nagoya, there would basically be no such thing as asking for directions and not getting an answer.

It was different from that human desert called Tokyo, where even if you called out to ask for directions, every single person ignored you and walked away.

You could tell at a glance when someone was in trouble.

That was why I hated Tokyo.

Even in that dangerous America, if you spoke to a police officer, they would kindly tell you the way.

While crossing the American continent by car, I got horribly lost and eventually came across two police officers loitering around some detached house, so I tried asking them for directions.

How should I put it? The atmosphere was extremely tense, and there was even a sense of tension as if the officers might put their hands on the pistols at their waists at any moment.

It seemed they had come to check things out after some sort of report.

In America, that could become no laughing matter for all kinds of reasons.

Normally, travelers would read the room and not call out at a time like that.

But I was in such a desperate state that I asked for directions without hesitation, and they kindly and carefully explained the route to a foreign tourist who was not very good at English.

In the end, I never really knew whether they safely ended up in a shootout with a criminal afterward, and I also did not really understand the route.

Well, even so, things somehow worked out in the end.

At the very least, I had no dangerous memory of sleeping in my car in that crime-ridden country called America.

If you were in a dangerous part of America, and a foolish foreign tourist carelessly left open a large window leading outside a motel, then afterward, someone would come running over and try to open that window.

At that time, I had closed it and locked it right away, so it only ended with a thud when someone tried to open it from outside.

The whole thing happened within only one or two minutes.

That really shocked me.

If I had not locked it, that guy would probably have opened the window, climbed in, and pointed either a knife or a gun at me.

After that, I was even reluctant to go out to the car parked outside.

It was a cheap, shabby motel, so there was no attached restaurant either.

Back then, I did not even know the saying that “safety is something you buy with money.”

I was poor, after all.

That was a real memory of how dangerous things had been back then.

I was saved because that guy was slow on his feet despite being Black.

Every time I saw Black athletes performing spectacularly in Olympic track events, I remembered that incident and broke out in a cold sweat.

The sash window had a sturdy iron mesh built into it so no one could enter even if the glass was broken, which made it hard to see outside, so I had opened it. But I learned intensely that this was something one must absolutely never do in America.

Well, this place was not the far-too-dangerous America of Earth, and if I called out to the dwarves, they did stop, and they did listen, at least in form.

But communication did not work at all.

There were people who started talking about their own path of blacksmithing.

There were people who began boasting about the weapons they had made.

There were even people who went on endlessly about completely irrelevant “paths of their own,” saying things like the path they walked was that path, which had nothing to do with directions here.

In any case, communication did not work.

For some reason, there was even someone in the middle of the road recommending dwarf liquor to me.

I had him let me drink just a little, and this too had an incredibly intense alcohol content.

I might have made a slightly interesting face.

Seeing that shameful display from a human, the dwarf grinned as though enjoying himself.

After that, I finally found a woman who seemed like she would listen normally, and somehow managed to get only the rough location of the royal palace out of her.

I gave up and flew straight through the sky to the Kingdom of Eldoa’s royal palace.

Since it was a large facility that was at least called a royal palace, I figured that if I looked from the sky, something would work out.

I could tell the general location from the MAP, and as expected, a building like a royal palace was easy to distinguish.

But even that place had a different feel from other countries.

How should I put it? The palace was certainly a palace, but somehow it had an atmosphere where “workshop” suited it better than “royal palace.”

It did not feel like a factory.

It was beautiful, and the shape of the building itself clearly gave the impression of a palace, but how should I say it?

It was full of an atelier-like feeling.

There were people transporting ores and ingots, flow lines for those things to pass through frequently, and large loading entrances.

Despite being a royal palace, it had passages everywhere, and all sorts of people were coming and going.

I did not really see people in glittering clothing. Rather, there were extremely many people equipped with sturdy, rugged fire-resistant leather aprons or work aprons.

Moreover, instead of wearing swords, they carried huge blacksmithing hammers on their shoulders.

The guards also carried war hammers, morning stars, and enormous battle-axes, and their shapes and decorations were magnificent.

As expected, there were no gate guards at the entrance, so I grabbed a dwarf who happened to be passing by, revealed my identity, handed him the letter from Michael, and asked him to take me to the king. But just like Michael, I was taken to the forge.

And the person there, an especially large man who seemed to be the dwarf king and was single-mindedly absorbed in blacksmithing, apparently had no intention of listening to people either.

“Hey, Your Majesty over there~”

As expected, there was no reply.

Since I had no choice, I quickly took out a thirty-year domestic whisky and began pouring its contents all over the ground.

Doing this made the scent really spread, after all.

Then the large man who seemed to be the king whirled around, came over at a speed that made me wonder whether he had activated magic armor, snatched the bottle from me, and drank all of it right there.

Even I was dumbfounded by that.

On top of that, the guy said something even more absurd.

“Hey! Don’t waste alcohol. That is the most forbidden act in the world.”

So it is.

Well, even I, for my part, had rarely ever done anything so sacrilegious as leaving alcohol unfinished.

The times when I did such wasteful things were usually when I was saying some ridiculous nonsense like, “I’ll never drink alcohol again.”

Though that reckless vow had never once been fulfilled.

“What are you saying? I was offering sacred liquor to the god Flare, whom you people worship. If anything, you are the sacrilegious one for stealing an offering to the gods.”

Yes, these people worshipped Flare, the sun god of this world.

That name was also used for an explosive flame spell.

Given their profession, I could understand that too.

Since Ross was not worshipped here, the authority of Fal, the Sacred Elion, did not work.

The only authority that worked here was the authority of alcohol.

“What are you talking about? Alcohol exists to be drunk. Still, this is fine liquor. By the way… who are you?”

Even the king was like this.

Everything about him was rough and casual.

Well, maybe he was better than someone strangely obsessed with logic.

“I am Alphonse of the Explosive Flame. I am also called the Spirit Demon King. As you can see.”

I manifested the largest one among the fire spirits I had brought with me.

After all, they were currently enjoying a reservation at the world’s highest-class restaurant, so these guys were excited and putting in effort too.

“Whoa! That’s the fire spirit Salamandrago!”

So that was this guy’s name.

Was he a salamander or a dragon? He needed to be clearer.

He certainly had a lizard-like face and red body that felt like a fire-lizard salamander, along with a dragon-like shape and dragon wings.

And with the powerful fire spirit’s strength, the temperature of the forge’s furnace rose all at once.

Of course, the fuel was my mana.

Hey, don’t overdo it too much.

“Ooooooh!”

A chorus of bare-chested muscle lumps echoed all around.

Ugh, stifling.

I could block the heat with magic, but there was nothing I could do about this stifling atmosphere.

Surely, if the beautiful-girl factor increased, something could be done, but there were no beautiful dwarf girls here.

But they must surely be somewhere in this royal palace, so I would endure by imagining that.

This sort of mental attack was unexpectedly tough.

It did not seem possible to block it with magic.

“So you’re the Spirit Demon King. I had heard the rumors, but you’re not bad at all! So, what did you come here for?”

Good grief.

“I believe our Prince Michael came here yesterday.”

“Hmm. Was there someone like that?”

Ugh, this was even worse than the rumors.

But he had at least heard my rumors properly, it seemed.

It was simply that blacksmithing was more important to him.

However, Salamandrago had worked hard, so it looked like he would at least listen to me.

“Then let’s have a drink over there. Have you heard the rumor that I am a Rare Visitor?”

“A Rare Visitor!?”

Huh? He had not heard?

“What was that again?”

“Come on.”

Whatever.

You can just shut up and drink.

Without saying anything, I brought out a table on the spot.

One that, at a glance, looked like a simple aluminum table.

He prepared what looked like a sturdy wooden chair for himself.

It was almost like a tree stump.

However, its grain was so densely packed that the annual rings could barely be distinguished by the naked eye.

It had been polished well and gave off an incredible gloss.

How many years did a tree have to grow to become like this?

Even thousand-year-old cedars of Yakushima had clearly visible rings.

Was this another-world ten-thousand-year cedar?

Apparently, the thin frame of the ultra-reinforced camping chair I had taken out for him looked unreliable.

Even that thing had been strengthened enough that a dragon could sit on it without issue.

But looking closely, the size did not fit.

Back when the World Cup was held in Japan, a very fat man was sitting in an economy seat on my return flight from America, looking absurdly uncomfortable.

The stewardesses had gathered around and seemed troubled too.

That was exactly what it meant to have no way to help.

Normally, if someone sat like that for several hours, they would die.

Or rather, the poor chair was the one I felt sorry for.

Why had he tried to get on a Japanese aircraft with that body?

He was not a cat or rabbit whose body had turned liquid.

Well, he probably could not get a seat on an American airline, but I wondered whether that guy had managed to set foot on Japanese soil alive.

If there had been an empty seat, they probably would have shoved him into business class, but in a fully booked situation like that, it was absolutely impossible.

It was so full that I suspected there had probably been double-booking.

I thought Japanese airlines, whose seat sizes were on the smaller side, should introduce “size restrictions” when boarding.

For the time being, this king prepared his own king’s seat.

Surprisingly, that might have been the throne he always sat on.

With a king who felt this absurd, that was entirely possible.

On top of that aluminum-like table, I took out a whisky bottle and foreign-made crystal glasses.

The dwarf king picked up a glass and narrowed his eyes as he looked at its beautiful, sparkling brilliance.

Ah, was he interested because that too was a product made with the same fire?

I created ball-shaped ice in midair and dropped it straight into the glass with a clink.

On Earth, it would be made with a special ice mold or the like, but here I could make it with magic exactly as I imagined.

“What is this?”

“It’s a high-proof liquor, so you drink it with ice. Besides, it’s cold and delicious. It’s called on the rocks.”

“If you do that, the liquor will become watered down.”

“Just drink it already.”

The one from earlier had been domestic, so this time I poured him a thirty-year foreign whisky.

“Mm. It is indeed cold and delicious.”

I see. Starting with beer would have been one way too.

But since its alcohol content was low, he would absolutely say it was like water.

However, the next moment, the king hurriedly stood up, planted both hands on the table, and looked shocked as if he were about to press his face against it.

“What!? I got curious and appraised it, and this table is made of orichalcum!”

“Hahaha, you only noticed now? I was waiting with a grin to see when you would realize it.”

I laughed heartily while rattling my glass.

“Damn it, I was tricked. You used some petty disguise. But the metal covering the orichalcum is the rarer one. What is this?”

The dwarf king looked slightly frustrated.

Heh, I had scored one against the in-one-ear-and-out-the-other king.

I did not feel like attaching an honorific such as “Your Majesty” to this guy.

It felt like doing so would even lower the value of His Majesty the King of Albatross.

“That’s aluminum. Formally, aluminium. In terms of quantity, it exists on the earth’s surface about as much as iron, but it is extremely difficult to process. It’s something you lot, who are not used to handling it, can’t really deal with. At the very least, you won’t immediately be able to produce proper quality.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no way that’s true.”

“Then try processing this. This is called an aluminum can. It has already been refined and has high purity, so it’s a wonderful material with a very high recycling rate. Though the surface is painted, and the inside has a special coating.”

I spitefully chugged down a can of beer and gave him the empty can.

Long ago, a motorcycle manufacturer that had exclusively made the bikes for live-action heroes on TV tried to sell a replica machine of its own racing bike. But there was no company that could properly make an extremely light aluminum frame, and no matter how many were made, they were full of terrible defects.

Seeing that, people from rival companies laughed loudly, saying it would be impossible to sell commercially because of the cost.

But the people at that company apparently wanted to make the hero bike run through the streets no matter what, and they finally created it through sheer obsession.

In the end, the company that made the aluminum frame for them seemed to have been a small company that made aluminum pots and kettles.

The arrival of a product unlike anything before captured the hearts of young people, and despite its high price, it sold explosively.

It was not only cool; it was light and had extremely good performance.

At the time, the motorcycle horsepower race had become too intense, and manufacturers had voluntarily imposed horsepower restrictions to prevent things from escalating further. So there was also the practical aspect that they had to reduce body weight in order to secure high performance.

The lightweight bike, equipped with a high-performance 250cc two-stroke engine with peaky characteristics, combined with flashy coloring and incredible full fairings that were not really found on cheap small-displacement bikes at the time, looked extremely cool.

Bikes with two-stroke engines were originally lighter too.

At the time, such things belonged to the realm of full-scale 1,100cc-class large imported motorcycles, which were expensive and difficult to get a license for.

A high-performance, super-cool racing-style bike like that could be obtained at a relatively cheap price compared to large imported motorcycles, and it could be ridden with the mid-size restricted license that was mainstream back then. So even though it was somewhat expensive, it became a massive hit.

A large number of them ran around the streets in a flashy, conspicuous white-and-blue style called “Aquafresh colors.”

The large 750cc four-stroke bike they later released also carried that manufacturer’s unique lightweight, high-output “oil-cooled engine,” and thanks to the benefits of the aluminum frame, it weighed about the same as a 400cc mid-size bike, so its performance was on a completely different level.

A 400cc version of that also appeared, and of course, that one too was overwhelmingly light and had excellent performance.

That was only possible because of the ultra-light aluminum frame.

The racy, lightweight collector exhaust equipped as standard by the manufacturer from the initial shipment also contributed greatly to that.

Their extremely racy and high-performance motorcycles ran all over the streets like a swarm of special-effects heroes, as though clearing away the frustrations of the developers up to that point.

Because they sold that many, costs went down, and mass-production technology must have improved dramatically too.

The defect rate would also continue to fall, and the further they went, the lower costs became, combining with increased sales to drive profits upward.

The other manufacturers, who had initially mocked them with all their might, panicked as though they had discovered that the goblin they had looked down on was actually the strongest Demon King, and around half a year later, they began releasing various lightweight aluminum-frame racer types.

That too was an utterly shameful benefit of latecomers free-riding on the trail that the manufacturer ahead of them had struggled desperately to carve out.

Even though they had mocked the practical use of aluminum frames so much.

There really were hopeless people in this world.

Among them was even the number-one manufacturer in the two-wheeled industry, a company that produced huge numbers of four-wheeled vehicles as well, and they entered the aluminum-frame vehicle market without any shame or regard for appearances.

Thanks to that, even their own customers, the fans of their motorcycles, openly showered them with scornful laughter, saying things like, “Huh? I thought Mr. ○○ wasn’t interested in aluminum frames? And now you’re releasing a rip-off product this late? Wow.”

On top of that, the bike they rushed out in a panic felt oddly half-baked and was not very popular.

It had always been a company that released safe, middle-of-the-road bikes like that, but well, with imitation technology, you could not suddenly do it properly.

Technology based on copying others naturally lacked sincerity in development, so that was how things turned out.

Despite being a company that made four-wheeled vehicles, and even in the monster class of liter-class motorcycles, was an industry champion that had literally made famous monster machines.

Products hastily and desperately released only to make money really were no good.

If you are going to do it, then even if it takes some time, don’t do something half-hearted.

That was how difficult aluminum was to manufacture and process.

Nowadays, it might not be that difficult, but at the time, even with the technology of Made in Japan, which had the greatest momentum in the world, manufacturing aluminum motorcycle frames was extremely difficult.

Even with the power of Japanese manufacturers that held ninety percent of the global motorcycle market share and were synonymous with high-performance bikes.

In mass-produced automobiles, outside of engines and wheels, there were probably hardly any serious aluminum parts.

Four-wheeled vehicles using aluminum as body material appeared much later.

Well, this world had magic, so who knew?

Ah, damn it.

I had done something unnecessary in the middle of an important negotiation.

That dwarf king had already become completely absorbed in the aluminum material.

Oh well. I’ll drink today too.

After all, this was a job I had accepted out of personal curiosity.

Incidentally, I’m a beer man.