My AI Wife: The Most Beautiful Chatbot in Another World-Chapter 148: Audience with the Dwarf King
Baruk-Ahn led them through a labyrinth of colossal machinery that filled The Grotto of Infinite Gears. Gears the size of houses turned slowly, giant leather belts creaked, and copper pipes hissed with hot steam at every joint. Here and there, Dwarven technicians were busy checking pressures, noting figures on stone tablets, or adjusting polished brass valves.
Dayat observed his surroundings with a strange sensation. Some of the machines here... he recognized. Not that they looked identical, but the principles were the same. Efficient valve systems, gear trains with precise ratios, even manometers showing steam pressure—everything mirrored technology from Earth.
They actually implemented it.
A Dwarven technician with thick goggles looked up, his eyes widening at the sight of Dayat. He nudged his colleague, whispering urgently, and both gave a quick, respectful salute before returning to their work.
"The King’s handpicked technicians," Baruk-Ahn muttered without looking back. "They know exactly who propelled Terragard forward."
Dola glanced at Dayat, a faint smile playing on her lips. "You’re quite popular here, Husband."
"It’s not popularity." Dayat studied the machines once more. "It’s just... weird. Like seeing technical blueprints come to life."
They walked past the largest gear Dayat had ever seen—its diameter was easily twenty meters, rotating with a low, thunderous rumble. Hot steam puffed from vents in the floor, making the air humid and warm.
"It’s incredibly noisy!" Dayat shouted over the din.
"You haven’t even seen the center yet!" Baruk-Ahn shouted back. "That’s where the main engine is! The vibrations alone could shake your hair off!"
Finally, they reached a massive iron door at the end of the corridor. Baruk-Ahn pulled it open, and the mechanical roar instantly muffled—dampened by thick stone walls. They entered a quieter area with brighter crystal lamps and polished stone floors.
In the center of the room, an old Dwarf with a thick, oil-stained beard was slamming a hammer against a piece of glowing hot metal. Sparks flew with every strike, illuminating a face etched with wrinkles and black smudges.
The hammer stopped.
King Ironbeard turned. His sharp eyes locked onto Dayat, and in an instant, a massive grin spread across his face.
"DAYAT!"
The King abandoned his anvil, striding forward with his burly frame. Without ceremony, he pulled Dayat into a crushing embrace—so tight that Dayat felt his ribs groan under the pressure.
"My hero! You’ve finally returned!" Ironbeard’s voice boomed in Dayat’s ear.
"Iron—King—can’t... breathe—"
Ironbeard laughed boisterously, releasing his grip. "Still as weak as ever, I see!" He slapped Dayat’s shoulder so hard the young man stumbled. "But you’re here! Good! Splendid!"
His eyes shifted to Dola. There, his smile wavered—replaced by confusion.
"And this... is Dola?" Ironbeard furrowed his brow. "The one from before? The rigid one, always hovering behind Dayat with a blank face?"
Dola smiled. It was a warm, soft smile—entirely different from her former self. "Yes, Your Majesty. I am Dola."
Ironbeard scratched his grimy beard. "But... you... back then you were like..." he searched for the right words, "like a living statue. Now... you’re smiling?"
Dola stepped closer, affectionately hooking her arm around Dayat’s. "I am his wife now. A wife has every right to smile at her husband, does she not?"
Ironbeard froze.
His mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again.
"WIFE?!"
Dayat let out a tired sigh. "Yeah. It’s a long story."
"Long? How long?" Ironbeard paced around them, inspecting Dola from various angles. "She... she’s alive? I mean, she used to be so stiff, a puppet, and now—"
"I am Dola, Your Majesty," she replied patiently. "My emotions are real. And I love my husband."
Ironbeard stopped. He looked at Dayat, then Dola, then back to Dayat. Suddenly, he burst into a booming laughter that shook the entire room.
"HAHAHA! This is magnificent!" He slapped Dayat’s shoulder again. "You’re a genius, lad! A genius!"
Dayat smiled awkwardly. "Thanks... I thought you’d find it strange."
"Strange? Nonsense!" Ironbeard shook his head firmly. "Love knows no race, no origin. If she makes you happy, that is enough." He patted his own belly. "My wife is also like a stone sometimes, but I still love her!"
Dola giggled softly. Dayat could only shake his head.
Ironbeard cleared his throat, attempting to regain some formality. "But seriously, what brings you here? Surely not just to show off your beautiful wife?"
Dayat opened his mouth to speak, but Ironbeard raised a hand.
"Actually, don’t answer yet. You must be exhausted after such a long journey." He turned to Baruk-Ahn. "Escort them to the guest quarters. Let them rest, eat, and drink. We shall talk tomorrow."
"But—" Dayat tried to protest.
"No ’buts’." Ironbeard smirked. "In Terragard, an honored guest must rest before business. That is the rule." He winked. "Besides, you need some private time with your wife, don’t you?"
Dola smiled sweetly. Dayat could only nod in resignation.
Baruk-Ahn led them out of the Grotto to a separate building connected by an enclosed stone bridge. As they crossed, they looked down at the city of Karak-Zorn: a sea of crystal lights, billowing chimneys, and bridges spanning the depths.
The guest suite for VIPs was in the east wing of the castle. It was spacious, featuring a large carved bed, a warm crackling fireplace, a wooden table laden with food, and thick glass windows overlooking the city.
"There is food, drink, and hot water for bathing." Baruk-Ahn pointed around. "If you need anything, pull the cord by the door. A servant will come."
"Thanks, Baruk-Ahn." Dayat dropped his backpack.
Baruk-Ahn nodded. Before leaving, he added, "You know, Dayat... I remember when you saved me from the shadow army in the lower tunnels. You told me, ’Don’t die yet, you old Dwarf. You still have much to build.’" He smiled. "Now Terragard thrives because of what you taught us. I owe you my life."
Dayat scratched his head. "Ah, that... it was nothing."
"It was everything." Baruk-Ahn looked at him seriously. "You are a true hero." He then left, closing the door softly.
Dola immediately flopped onto the bed. "Heavenly..." she murmured. "The mattress is so soft."
Dayat sat in a chair by the fireplace, letting out a long sigh. "It’s a relief to finally rest."
"Relief?" Dola turned her head. "Or are you just worried about how to ask for money tomorrow?"
"Both," Dayat admitted. "It feels wrong. Coming to a friend just to ask for cash."
Dola stood up, walked over, and sat on Dayat’s lap. Her arms wound around his neck. "He’s a King, Dayat. And you’ve given him far more than money. You gave them a future."
"That’s technology business, it’s different from—"
"Kiss me first."
"What?"
Dola gave him a mischievous grin. "A reward for being your loyal companion this far."
Dayat sighed but complied. They shared a brief kiss in front of the fireplace. The fire crackled, casting dancing shadows on the walls.
The next morning, Baruk-Ahn returned. This time he brought formal attire—a black tunic with gold embroidery for Dayat and a dark blue gown for Dola.
"The King requests you join him for breakfast before the audience," he said. "You have one hour."
Dayat declined the tunic. "I’ll stick to my own clothes. I’m comfortable in these."
Baruk-Ahn nodded, not pushing the issue.
Dola also declined the gown. "This bodysuit is enough." She smiled. "Besides, it’s a gift from my husband."
They had breakfast in a small dining hall, accompanied by Baruk-Ahn, who occasionally spoke of Terragard’s progress. The economy was up, mining production had peaked, and trade relations with other kingdoms were expanding. But there was one problem.
"Brassvale," Baruk-Ahn muttered, his face darkening. "They’re starting to pressure the eastern border. Demanding special tariffs, asking for access to our mines. Politics are heating up."
Dayat listened intently. "So things are tense."
"Yes." Baruk-Ahn sighed. "But that’s for the King and the ministers. You needn’t worry."
After breakfast, Baruk-Ahn led them toward the Basalt Throne Hall. They passed through long corridors with walls covered in carvings of Dwarven history: epic battles, the forging of legendary weapons, and royal ceremonies.
The Throne Hall was magnificent. The walls of black basalt were inlaid with gold patterns that shimmered under massive crystal chandeliers. Dozens of pillars soared upward, each carved with the relief of a Dwarven hero. At the far end, a massive stone throne sat atop a five-tiered dais, adorned with jewels and intricate engravings.
King Ironbeard sat on the throne. But this time he looked different—his oil-stained beard had been cleaned and neatly combed to his chest. A deep red royal cloak with white fur trim replaced his work apron. A simple crown of red gold rested on his head.
The nobles had gathered. Some stood along the sides of the hall, others sat in stone chairs. They whispered as Dayat and Dola entered.
Dayat caught fragments of their murmurs:
"That’s him... the hero from the outside..."
"The one who taught the precision calculations..."
"Look at the woman... the silver hair..."
"She was so expressionless when she first came... but now..."
"She’s stunning..."
Dola maintained a thin smile, keeping her hand locked with Dayat’s.
They approached the throne. Dayat offered a respectful nod—he did not bow, for in Terragard, a hero was not required to bow even to a King.
"Your Majesty," Dayat began. "I have come with a purpose. I apologize for the sudden visit."
Ironbeard smiled broadly. "Speak, Hero. What do you require?"
Dayat took a breath. "I need a loan."
Whispers immediately broke out among the nobles.
"A loan?"
"The Hero is asking for money?"
"What could he possibly need?"
Ironbeard raised an eyebrow but kept his smile. "A loan? For what?"
"Travel," Dayat answered honestly. "I must head to Brassvale. But I lack their currency. I wish to borrow—and I will pay it back."
A noble in a green cloak—Minister Grogor—stepped forward. "Your Majesty, this is highly unusual. A Hero borrowing money? Did he not receive rewards for his deeds?"
"Deeds are not always paid in coin, Grogor," Ironbeard replied flatly. "Sometimes they are paid in respect."
Another noble, in blue robes and thick spectacles—Borkum Steel-Eye—added, "But a loan? For what exactly? Perhaps we can assist in other ways."
Dayat sighed. "I need funds to live in Brassvale. Food, lodging, administrative matters. There is no ill intent."
Grogor narrowed his eyes. "Brassvale? The kingdom currently pressuring our borders? What business does the Hero have with them?"
"It is a private matter," Dayat replied coldly.
The hall grew rowdy. Some supported the request, others opposed it. The atmosphere was becoming heated.
Ironbeard raised his hand. Silence fell instantly.
He stared at Dayat for a long moment. Then, suddenly, he burst into a thunderous laughter that echoed throughout the hall.
"HAHAHA! My Hero comes asking for a loan! This is hilarious!" He slapped the armrest of his throne. "Grogor, Borkum, do you even know the value of what Dayat has done for Terragard?"
Grogor went silent. Borkum gave a slow shake of his head.
"He didn’t just save us from the Void Breach." Ironbeard stood up. "He taught us the precision math that revolutionized our work! Mining production is up three hundred percent! Our machines have never been this efficient!"
He pointed at Dayat. "He gave Terragard a future. And you’re bickering over a loan?"
The mood shifted. The nobles who had been opposing the request lowered their heads in shame.
Ironbeard stepped down from the dais and approached Dayat. He placed a heavy hand on Dayat’s shoulder.
"One thousand gold coins."
The nobles’ eyes bulged.
"Your Majesty—" Grogor tried to protest.
"One thousand gold coins for my Hero!" Ironbeard cut him off sharply. "And it is a gift! There is no need to pay it back!"
Dayat’s jaw dropped. "But—"
"No ’buts’." Ironbeard grinned. "You have given us far more than a thousand coins. Accept this as a gift, not a debt."
He turned to an attendant. "Bring the gold!"
A few minutes later, a Dwarf brought a large pouch—so large he nearly toppled over. The leather bag was placed before Dayat with a heavy, metallic clink.
Dayat peeked inside. A thousand gold coins shimmered within.
"This..." Dayat shook his head. "I don’t even know what to say."
"Say thank you," Ironbeard laughed. "Then go to Brassvale and handle your business. But be careful." His face turned serious. "The political situation is volatile. Brassvale does not like us, and they will be suspicious of foreigners."
"I know." Dayat closed the pouch. "Thank you, Iron. Truly."
Ironbeard hugged him once more. "Return whenever you wish, Hero. The gates of Terragard are always open to you."
Dayat smiled. Then he closed his eyes. The green patterns beneath his skin began to glow, and the pouch of gold slowly dissolved into green particles—absorbed into his manifestation dimension.
The nobles gasped. Some stepped back in shock.
"A manifestation..." Borkum whispered. "Incredible..."
Dayat opened his eyes. "Ready. No need to carry the extra weight now."
Dola smiled. "Practical."
They said their farewells, leaving the nobles still in a state of awe. Baruk-Ahn escorted them out of the castle, through the bustling streets of Karak-Zorn, and finally to the city gates.
"Good luck, Dayat." Baruk-Ahn shook his hand. "If you need anything, send word. We will come."
"Thanks." Dayat patted his shoulder. "Take care of yourself."
They walked out the gate. Behind them, Karak-Zorn loomed in all its subterranean glory. Ahead, the road back to Bolhart—and then the Wailing Woods—stretched out.
Dola reached for Dayat’s hand. "That was easy, wasn’t it?"
"What?"
"Your magic sword worked again."
Dayat laughed. "It’s not a sword. It’s connections."
"Connections built with a sword," Dola teased.
Dayat only shook his head, gripping her hand tighter.
The journey back felt lighter. But ahead, beyond the Wailing Woods and the gates of Brassvale, the true challenge was just beginning at Bakasa.
