After a month-long journey, we finally returned to the underground city of Doomheim.
To me, who had been shivering in the cold, it almost felt like coming home.
The warmth of the cityâs smelting furnaces and the rhythmic clang of hammers echoed through the air, creating a comforting atmosphere.
Harglan, resting his hammer on his shoulder, turned toward the heart of Magmar along with his dwarf subordinates.
âThis is where we part ways. Get some rest, Princess. Ferca, youâd better explain yourself properly to Harglan.â
âUgh, I really donât want to go backâ¦â
âIf you do what you want, you also have to take responsibility. Stop whining like a child.â
For once, Harglan sided with Torvar, scolding Ferca with a stern tone.
Pouting like a child, Ferca hung her head.
Even as Harglan walked away, he didnât forget to shoot me a glare.
We headed straight home without any detours.
Torvar wasnât there.
âFather spends most of the day at the forge. He wonât be back until nightfall.â@@novelbin@@
It was a sacred duty passed down to the Meister, the Flamekeeper, to ensure the furnaceâs flame never died outâno matter what.
Even when I lived in Doomheim, Torvar never missed a single day of work.
âWell, we need to unpack and recover from the trip anyway. Letâs rest until he gets back.â
We sorted out our belongings and had a simple meal.
Without bothering each other, we each relaxed in our own ways.
The sound of hammering echoed from the forge.