I Transmigrated Into A Fantasy World To Farm And Build Houses!-Chapter 92: The Wealth of the Dwarves

After seeing the Snow Wolf tribe’s food storage, Chief Joseph led Eric to the Dwarves’ storage vault.

Excluding the private assets of each family, all the food and weapons accumulated by the Du tribe were stored in a massive underground vault.

The Dwarves had specially dug this vault many levels deep. Eric counted as he followed Chief Joseph down the damp stone steps. One level, two levels, then three levels...

The deeper they went, the cooler the air became. The torch in Chief Joseph’s hand clearly illuminated the carefully reinforced earthen walls. He counted a full nine levels. He couldn’t help but wonder if what Luban had said was true, that long ago in the human world, they had once excavated an entire underground city.

The Dwarves were not skilled hunters, especially on the Illusory Dream Continent, where the magical beasts were all large and powerful. Therefore, their vault mainly contained grain, mostly wheat, as they had always eaten bread as their staple.

Looking at the sacks of wheat, barley, and various types of beans piled high to the ceiling of the vault, Eric realized he had underestimated their wealth. Their lives were clearly much more prosperous than the Snow Wolves’. It was true that skilled craftsmen wouldn’t starve, no matter where they went.

The last three basement levels were used to store weapons. All kinds of swords, sabers, and axes hung neatly on racks. The firelight from the torch reflected off the cold, gleaming steel. Eric’s eyes were dazzled, and his hands and feet itched to touch them, but Chief Joseph quickly stopped him.

"Be careful," he said sternly. "Some of these have defensive magic runes carved on them. If you touch one that hasn’t recognized an owner, you’ll get injured easily."

Among them, magic staffs were the fewest.

Chief Joseph explained that crafting a staff was extremely complicated, requiring rare materials, high-level magic cores, and, most importantly, a craftsman capable of carving magic runes.

For that reason, mages mostly came from the nobility; only they had the financial resources to pursue it.

He told him a story. Once, there was a great Archmage of poor origins who had to rely on a noble family to learn magic. After suffering all kinds of humiliation, he finally achieved great power. Later, with a single forbidden spell, he caused that entire noble family to be wiped from the face of the earth. Eric was stunned speechless.

He noticed that most of the weapons in the vault were intended for paying taxes to the Golden Kingdom and the Elf tribe.

Taxes like these were no different from the heavy taxes and levies of feudal times, meant to squeeze the people dry. He couldn’t help but sigh at the fate of the Dwarves.

They had escaped persecution by humans, sacrificed so many companions to get here, only to still be oppressed in the end. But at least, they still had their freedom. He understood why Chief Joseph had tried so hard to stay with the Thomas tribe.

Chief Joseph also seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. He told him about the difficult years of the Du tribe, about the rebellion against the humans, about the brothers who had fallen, and about the separation of an entire people.

For half his life, he had been searching for a way for his people to survive. Only now could he temporarily set down his burden. His gaze was distant, holding sorrow for the other wandering Dwarf tribes, wondering if they were as fortunate.

After seeing both storage areas, Eric was finally reassured about the food supply for the coming winter.

In the original owner’s memory, every winter for the tribe had been extremely difficult. He remembered one year when the weather was terribly cold and the winter dragged on. His mother, already very weak, had skipped meals to leave her share for her two children. The following year, she did not survive.

That memory haunted him, making him constantly afraid of food shortages.

Fortunately, this year was different. The combined food supplies of both tribes were enough for them to survive the winter comfortably. Even so, he decided that unless it was a last resort, he would absolutely not touch the Dwarves’ food storage, to avoid unnecessary conflict.

In his role as chief, he couldn’t just be a figurehead. He knew it was time to plan the annual trip to the Ox-Head tribe to trade for grain. This year, there was the added task of going to the sea for salt, so they had to set out even earlier.

The meeting was held at Eric’s house, on the warm, heated kang. Thomas brought Max, Michael, and Chief Joseph. Thomas had already told Chief Joseph about the salt beforehand so he wouldn’t be too shocked.

And yet, Chief Joseph was still shaken. Not just crude salt, but also a method to refine fine salt! This was something that even the nobility controlled extremely strictly.

It was also the first time Michael had heard about this, and he was stunned. He suddenly remembered that the dishes at Eric’s house hadn’t had the bitter taste of crude salt recently.

He thought it was because his cooking skills were getting better, but it turned out he had been using fine salt. That devil Max definitely knew all along and didn’t say anything!

Thinking this, Michael slowed down a step and punched Max in the side.

Max, who was walking, suddenly took a punch, turned his head, his gaze sharp. Seeing the situation wasn’t good, Michael bolted straight into Eric’s house.

*Hmph, now that I’m in Eric’s house, I dare you to hit me.*

After his shock subsided, Chief Joseph turned to look at Thomas with an admiring gaze: "Old Thomas, how is such a smart child a beast cub from your Snow Wolf tribe..."

Eric was sitting on the roof watching the snow when he saw Max and Michael chasing each other in the distance, followed by the two old friends, Thomas and Joseph, arguing as they walked. He stood up and waved happily.

Seeing him, Max stopped. Michael grinned, teasing: "Eric, your place is beautiful. Why don’t we hold the meeting up here!"

"Does Michael want to turn Chief Joseph into a popsicle?" Eric chuckled, jumping down from the roof.

Michael stepped forward, pinching his cheek: "Getting very brave lately, aren’t you."

Before he could pinch again, a hand pushed him away. Max was already standing there.

"Alright, alright, everyone inside. Are you two going to turn into cubs right now?" Thomas said sternly, forgetting he had just been arguing with Chief Joseph.

On the low table placed in the middle of the heated kang, Eric had prepared a pot of hot, fragrant soy milk. Everyone sat down, exclaiming at the warmth and comfort of the kang. The soy milk was sweet, smelled of soybeans, and had no raw taste at all, making everyone praise it effusively.

[I wonder if this counts as bribery?]

He thought to himself as he poured the milk for everyone.