Chapter 51 - Shoes (3)

Shoes were tremendously important, forming a cornerstone of the clothing component of food, clothing, and shelter. They were particularly essential for humans, who walked on two legs. Going barefoot could mean stepping on something sharp or slipping at the wrong moment and landing in danger. Their importance could not be overstated.

That was why early shoes had to be sturdy and safe. Otherwise, there was no reason to wear them. Supporting a biped while taking the worst of the wear and tear made for some demanding requirements.

Bought soccer cleats hehe

(Photo of soccer cleats with two stripes)

Saved up my allowance and bought these hehe. Thoughts?

└Those are knockoffs, though? Why are there only two stripes?

└Yeah. There should be three.

└Oh, fuck. Just noticed. Why ARE there two stripes?

└LMAOOOO

└Proudly showing off your knockoffs lmao

└How much did you pay?

└300,000 yura... shit.

└Ouch lol

As time passed and technology advanced, however, shoes also came to serve as fashion items. People not only sacrificed performance for design, but began wearing things designed for performance purely for their looks. The advent of sports had been the starting point.

Ordinary people valued convenience over performance, so they paid little attention to the technical capabilities of sports shoes. Slip resistance was about the most they cared about. This public demand also drove the development of sports-centered clothing industries.

Do beastfolk wear shoes?

Or do they go barefoot?

└Suspiciously: We wear shoes too. You think beastfolk are savages or something?

└Aren't you?

└Suspiciously: Sounds like you're the savage here, judging by your manners. Want your skull cracked?

└Sorry...

└LMAO

└lol

└Of course beastfolk wear shoes. It's not like they don't have homes.

└Then how do they get shoes that fit? Their feet come in so many fucking sizes.

└Always custom-made. Look at rabbit beastfolk. Their feet alone are long as hell.

The existence of beastfolk had a particularly significant influence on the development of footwear. There were the combat boots worn by soldiers, too, not to mention the safety boots of adventurers who explored harsh terrain all over the world. Footwear came in endless varieties depending on who wore it and what they did for a living.

"So you want me to make these?"

"Forget it if you don't want to."

"Hey, now. Listen to this dwarf. Who said I didn't want to?"

Short stature, muscular arms, broad shoulders, and a thick brown beard that could be called his trademark. The brown-bearded dwarf caught the other dwarf by the shoulder as he turned away, making him turn back.

Slightly tipsy eyes and a nose as red as a strawberry. Anyone could tell this dwarf had been drinking. His red beard went particularly well with his flushed face. His name was Gareth, and he was the sort of drunken dwarf you could find anywhere in Mountain, the dwarven nation.

"Interested, then?"

"Sure I'm interested. But what's in it for me?"

Gareth's friend Wagner raised a perfectly reasonable question.

They had been through thick and thin together for many years and generally obliged each other's requests. But the item Gareth had asked Wagner to make raised questions before he could agree.

"I've got no problem with you showing up out of nowhere and asking for high-performance shoes. But these are clearly shoes for a human, aren't they?"

Wagner waved the sheet of paper in his hand as he spoke. Gareth had given it to him as the requirements for this order. Gareth glanced at the paper and nodded.

"That's right."

"Where in the world did you get a commission like this?"

"On the forum."

"That damned forum."

Wagner scowled at his answer.

Wagner knew about the forum, but he had never logged on in his life. He simply saw no reason to. People overwhelmed by their real lives had no time for the forum. Entertainment wasn't an issue either; for dwarves, inventing was entertainment.

In that sense, Gareth certainly qualified as an eccentric—a dwarf absorbed in the forum rather than invention. Still, his natural talent kept him comfortably fed.

"What on earth did they offer you to make you take an order like this?"

"Ah. Not sure I should tell you that."

"Why not?"

"It's got to do with booze. Hic."

"Booze?"

At the mention of booze, Wagner's eyes widened with interest. Dwarves and alcohol were inseparable. It went beyond personal preference and was considered a racial trait; they were famous for having a fridge dedicated to booze, or even a brewery, in every home. They had gone so far as to invent not just locomotives but airships to streamline its distribution. That said it all. Mountain was a dwarven nation whose mechanized civilization had developed for the sake of alcohol alone.

"That's right. Booze. Remember that infused liquor I gave you last time?"

"Of course. The bright red stuff. Damn, that was good. Mmm."

Wagner involuntarily swallowed at the mention of the liquor. He still remembered it vividly: Gareth had come by with liquor he'd made from a red herb he'd acquired somewhere.

Normally, drinking made you tipsy and sleepy, but that liquor did the opposite. The moment he drank it, strength flooded his entire body, and even his head felt clearer. And the flavor! The herb's bittersweet taste blended with the liquor to create an exceptionally clean finish. He could confidently call it the best; just thinking about it made his mouth water.

"Well, that human needs shoes now. He's stranded somewhere dangerous as it is, so he needs a good pair."

"He said he'd give you liquor if you made them?"

"Not liquor. The herb. You can have it if you want."

"Oh! I'll get started right away!"

These dwarves regarded a mature mandrake as nothing more than an ingredient for infused liquor. Had Grylls heard the conversation, he would have been appalled, but let it slide so long as they made the shoes properly. Anyone else witnessing this scene, though? They would have frothed at the mouth over a mature mandrake being treated as mere booze ingredients. But alcohol was the most important thing in a dwarf's life. It might seem a humble pleasure to others, but that was their happiness.

"What's that herb called, anyway? It was bright red and did look medicinal."

"They call it a mature mandrake. Don't know much about it myself. Just think of it as a mandrake."

"Hmm. Mandrake liquor's good already. So this is even better?"

"Probably? I heard you can make a top-grade Elixir with just one."

"Really? Doesn't that make it insanely expensive?"

Wagner was puzzled. Elixirs were quite expensive. Dwarves might consider booze their Elixir, but an Elixir was still an Elixir. He didn't have much interest in them, so the full significance didn't sink in, but he couldn't help wondering.

"Hic! Very expensive. But think about it."

"About what?"

"Liquor made with a top-grade Elixir ingredient. How could you pass that up? It's worth more than selling it and drinking ordinary beer."

"Oh. I wasn't thinking far enough ahead. You really are a genius."

"You're too kind. Hic!"

You might say the two were putting on quite a show all by themselves, but that was just how dwarves were. A race that didn't merely love alcohol, but was practically one with it. A race with a longer natural lifespan than humans, yet a similar average lifespan thanks to liver disease. A race in which you could never find a sample population of nondrinkers. Those were dwarves. Ordering them to quit drinking was tantamount to a death sentence.

"But this is... trickier than I thought."

Wagner studied the paper Gareth had given him, pondering. Gareth nodded in apparent agreement.

"That's why I came to you. I know iron, but I'm hopeless with leather."

"True, but... shoes that are sturdy as a baseline, and waterproof too? Slip-resistant, and everything else? He's thrown in every feature under the sun."

Being a dwarf didn't mean being a master of every field. Each had a specialty. Gareth's was metallurgy; Wagner's was leatherworking.

"We'll need good materials to start with. You said this human's stranded?"

"Yeah."

"Then they'll need to be durable, too. If I do this..."

Wagner began sketching a rough design with a pen. Befitting a dwarven master leatherworker, even his preliminary sketch looked refined.

"They're bound to be heavy this way. Tell him he'll have to accept that."

"All right. I'm sure he'll understand that much."

"Where the hell did this stranded human end up, anyway, to be offering a mature mandrake?"

"Says he landed in the Forest of Four Seasons. Don't know much beyond that."

"Tsk, tsk. Of all places."

Wagner had heard of the Forest of Four Seasons too. A forest that was a labyrinth in itself, one you could never leave once you entered. Getting shoes fitted wouldn't improve his chances of survival. Still, even raising those odds a little would be enough.

"Got it all worked out? Hic! So how long will it take?"

"I've got all the right materials, so a week should..."

"Hey. Take a look at this."

Cutting Wagner off, Gareth headed off somewhere. Wagner watched him in puzzlement, but his eyes soon went wide at what Gareth brought back.

"Th-that is...!"

It was an unusually shaped glass bottle of the sort one might see in the Central Plains, narrow at the waist and wide at the top. Inside was a plant shaped like a human face, its mouth gaping open. As if that weren't enough, red liquid filled the vessel. It was the liquor Gareth had infused with a mature mandrake.

"Hic! Cut the time down and you can drink all of this."

"A-ahem. Three days, then..."

"Plus crab to go with it tomorrow. He said he'd give me some."

At that, Wagner's expression turned serious, and he held up his index finger.

"One day."

What dwarves needed wasn't more money. Liquor made with rare ingredients—that was all.

"Good. Then we'll drink this when you're done. Do a shoddy job and the deal's off. Just so you know."

"What kind of dwarf do you take me for? Just you wait. I'll make him a damn fine pair of shoes."

"Good. I'm counting on you."

Wagner stepped into his workshop to make the shoes. Gareth didn't go home. He was perfectly happy to stay as both supervisor and drinking buddy.

'He said it's the Forest of Four Seasons. There must be herbs even better than mature mandrakes there, right?'

He gazed at the mature mandrake liquor. Just one glass sent strength surging through his whole body. Perhaps Grylls could find an even better ingredient. And if he made liquor with that? The mere thought made his mouth water.

'Doesn't have to be booze, either. Drinking snacks would do just fine.'

The mature mandrake was one thing, but he was looking forward to the snacks too. Hadn't Grylls caught a huge fish yesterday and crabs today? Surrounded by mountains, Mountain had no access to the sea. Seafood was naturally expensive, and the forum auction house was the best place to obtain it. But its notoriously murderous fees made even that a poor option.

'Shall I see what he's up to now?'

Lately, he'd been enjoying his exchanges with Grylls. Hadn't the mature mandrake been repayment for a casual act of kindness? Even without the mandrake, it was fun.

Honestly demons make better booze these days. Agree?

"This little shit!"

But he could never resist bait. Gareth immediately opened the post. A crowd of users had already gathered to argue back and forth. Quite a few were losing their minds, and it was easy to guess that most of them were dwarves.

Dwarves could tolerate being called short and the like. That was a racial trait; nothing to be done about it. But anything about booze—particularly brewing—was intolerable. It was a surefire trigger, a topic that cropped up on the forum whenever people were bored.

└Let's be real, demon booze tastes better. They invented refrigeration and freezing magic first too~

└Passing Dwarf: Dwarves were the ones who applied that magic to machinery. Get your facts straight.

└Yeah~ And you still couldn't make fridges without demons~

└Dwarf booze is honestly just bitter. Demon booze is sweet and tasty lol

└You guys don't even know the joy of having a beer while watching sports, do you? lmao

"You sons of bitches!"

BANG!

Finally unable to contain his anger, Gareth slammed the table. Just another peaceful day on the forum.

* * *

"What's he losing his shit over this time?"

Grylls and his animal friends had polished off the three crabs in no time, and he was browsing the forum while taking a break. He opened a post with an unusually large number of comments and found the idiot Olympics in full swing. It was something about demon-made booze tasting better than dwarf-made booze.

'Is that like saying Chinese-made kimchi tastes better than our homemade kimchi?'

If so, he could understand.