1 Chapter 1: The Most Sincere Smile is the Widest Grin

The clash of metal should be piercingly loud, especially when struck with a dwarf-made hammer. However, hoarse screams turn out to be even louder, especially when they come from the foul-mouthed elven protesters.

It's a common sight in Grimbolk to see beautiful long-haired individuals, but their behavior is more anarchic than starving pigs. They initially carry signs saying "Elves Love Peace," and if left for just a minute or two, the signs change to "Elves are Gods, Dwarves are slaves."

All this nonsense is caused by an equally ridiculous racial issue. The elves (shielded by tales of the past) believe they deserve adoration, and the dwarves are too stubborn to acknowledge it - according to them. As a result, Grimbolk, once a city belonging to both elves and dwarves, has now become a city belonging to either elves or dwarves.

"Cast the dwarves out of here!"

"Grimbolk must be free from bearded rats!"

"Elves live matter!"

Not even a donkey ever brayed so discordantly. The dwarves have tried to ignore them, really. But they would face persecution if they pretended to be deaf.

Countless dwarves have fled Grimbolk because of this. The demonstrations have become increasingly violent, causing even the elves themselves to split due to their crisscrossing allegiances. There are elves who favor "elves" and those who favor "dwarves."

"Whose order are you working on, Will?" A white-haired elf sits in front of a shaggy-haired dwarf.

The dwarf, busy hammering away, instantly flinches. He puts away his hammer and smiles warmly to greet the elf.

"Ah, nobody's. I'm just pretending to be busy. What brings you here, Nat?" he says.

Nat, or Nathan Southbell, belongs to the group of elves that favor "dwarves". That is, he is an elf who sides with the dwarves. Not just an ally, he and Will (Gideon Willmar) have been friends since their youth. Their relationship seems to exist in another world beyond the reach of envious whispers.

"I need your help. My chimney is clogged again. I tried fixing it myself yesterday, but I ended up getting half of my body stuck," Nat replies.

Will chuckles. "If only elves were created just a bit smaller, you'd be more useful, Nat."

"Yeah, and if dwarves were a little taller, you could slap our cheeks more easily."

Both burst out in laughter. Will has a thick, orange beard that he braids into two branches. When he laughs, the beard quivers, and the lice hiding within scurry out.

Not long after their light-hearted conversation, a group of protesters marches by the shop. One of them throws a rock through the window, knocking off some swords from the display. Will and Nat shudder in surprise and exchange glances.

"Those elves! They're getting crazier," Nat says.

"They're not the crazy ones; you are," retorts his friend.

"Why am I?"

"Because, my friend, you are the only elf who doesn't have a devilish mind like them."

Nat smiled bitterly. Her blue irises perched precisely at the brown gaze of Will.

"Sometimes I feel ashamed to be born as an elf. At least in Grimbolk, our dignity is gone."

"Come on, Nat." Will patted the elf's shoulder. "I will repair your chimney tonight. And make sure you cook a turkey for me. The biggest turkey, you hear?"

Nat burst out laughing. "I doubt your small stomach can digest it, My friend. But of course. I will prepare it. Just so I can watch you die of overeating."

"What did you say?! Hey, I dare you to say it again!"

Nat ran away from the shop, laughing with satisfaction as he successfully teased his friend. As the handsome elf walked away, Will picked up his hammer once more. He heated the iron and began forging again.

"No, Nat. I'm not just pretending to be busy. I'm forging the best dagger for you. See you later tonight," he murmured.

~~Grimbolk Tales~~

The Grimbolk sky was almost pitch dark, but there were still some protesters who chatted while swinging their torches. They were like the zombie who didn't care about anything other than their own ego.

Starting a nighttime journey in this city, for a dwarf, was clearly not a pleasant experience. There was always the potential for sudden attacks, kidnappings, or even being stripped naked and left crying.

Will was actually scared of the bad things happening around him. He was not a wizard capable of healing wounds in the blink of an eye. If a knife were to pierce his heart, it would be the end.

That's why Will often wore a cloth hood everywhere, and hid a knife inside his bear jacket. Dwarf bodies may be short, but their fighting abilities were top-notch. No wonder the elves would rather shout and scream than directly ignite a war.

After locking up his store, Will hurried off to Nat's residence. The distance was not too far. However, the damage caused by the demonstration at the city hall caused his journey to be somewhat obstructed. Will had to take a different route to get there, which took more time.

As he walked, he plucked a beautiful, sharp dagger from his jacket that had N.S. engraved on its surface. These were the initials of Nathan Southbell, his bestfriend. Will wanted to give it to him tonight as a gift.

"I will make sure this dagger is sharper than the tip of your ear, Nat. Because for a blacksmith, there is no more special gift than the sharpest one."

Will happened to pass by two elf protesters whose torches had gone out. They were unaware that they had just walked past an old dwarf. For a moment, Will eavesdropped on their conversation.

"Did you hear about yesterday's committee meeting decision?"

"Of course. Finally, there's some good news. If the petition gets signed by half of the elf population in Grimbolk, there will be no more dwarves forever."

"That's right. The letter has already been distributed; we just have to wait for the decision next week."

What decision? What petition? What letter? And why is there always negative sentiment against dwarves? Is it true that there will be no more dwarves in Grimbolk?

Will was too lazy to follow the narrow-minded elves' train of thought. He focused on walking towards Nat's house.

Upon arrival, the reception of an elf to a dwarf had never been so warm. Nat led his friend in, hung up his bear jacket, pulled out a chair for Will to sit on, and even asked how his day went. This is what made Will believe there was still hope in this city.

"Forgive me, but your turkey is still in process. It'll be ready in ten minutes," Nat said.

"So, we'll eat after I clear the chimney." Will chuckled.

"Sounds great. Come on, Will!"

Nat led his friend to the living room, where the clogged chimney was. Although Nat's house wasn't very big, all the furniture was neatly arranged. Any visitor could easily tell where important stuffs were placed because of Nat's orderly home.

However, there was a small table in the corner of the living room, a bit messy with a pile of papers and a feather pen. This was unusual for Nat, Will thought, although he agreed to ignore his bewilderment.

"Here's the chimney, Will. And this is the poking stick."

"Alright. Let me handle it." Will entered the fireplace and started poking the stick into the chimney.

As Will runs his task, Nat sat in a chair with his legs crossed. He peeked at Will, whose head had already entered the chimney, then snorted softly.

"Will, do you know how many dwarves live in Upperhill?"

Will cleared his throat for a moment. "I don't know. I think less than a hundred. Many have left since the persecution."

"Is Marriot still there?"

Will immediately looked down. His face turned black from the soot.

"You're kidding, Nat? That stubborn dwarf won't budge an inch from Grimbolk, even if a legion of elves came to drive him away."

"You're right. I guess the only reason the Mayor refuses to enforce the dwarf exodus order is because of Marriot's influence. He's a nobleman who is highly respected."

"Indeed." Will returned his focus to the chimney. "Why did you ask, by the way?"

"Ah, nothing. I'm just curious. Since this conflict, elves have been forbidden to visit Upperhill. We used to play there often, right? Now everything is getting worse."

"Yeah. Everything will most likely get worse." Will looked down again and rummaged around in his waistband. "But there's one thing that won't." He approached Nat.

"What?"

"Our friendship," he said while handing over the dagger engraved with N.S. "Happy birthday, My friend."

Nat gasped for a moment. His eyes welled up. Meanwhile, Will smiled contentedly. His small eyes narrowed into thin lines.

"Thank you, Will."

"No problem. So, is the turkey ready?"

"Oh, My goodness! Wait a moment, let me check." Nat hurried to the kitchen.

Will wanted to resume his task, but the pile of papers at the end of the room was truly bothering. He was curious, puzzled, and suspicious, and without realizing, his feet walked towards the table.

Will began to pick up a sheet of paper. It read "Grimbolk Bank Debt Report." His brow furrowed.

The second through eighth papers were filled with bank sanctions. The ninth paper was an invoice with Nathan Southbell's name on it. The amount was astonishing. Will suddenly felt uneasy.

Upon grabbing the tenth sheet, his eyes finally widened. Clearly stamped in red ink, "Grimbolk Dwarves Genocide Petition." Nat had already signed.

"What is this?!" Will snarled in disbelief. His name was on the petition, as a target.

Will's heart was on fire. His emotions roared with fury. The Nathan Southbell he had known seemed to be playing a dangerous game behind his back. There was no such thing as elves who "favor dwarves." All that existed were elves who "deceive dwarves."

However, before Will could turn around to confront Nat, someone stabbed him in the back. He recognized the object that had just slipped into his body. It was Nat's birthday gift dagger.

"Y-you!" Will struggled to contain his pain. His pupils shook violently.

"I'm sorry, Will." Nat simply watched him stagger.

"Nat! Cu-curse you!"

Will's vision gradually blurred. His heartbeat weakened. His eyes couldn't capture anything anymore, except the figure of Nat who stood smugly. Then everything went dark. Will collapsed.

(To be continued)