Dawn City, World Expo Construction
The southern district of Dawn City had been transformed into something that looked less like a city expansion and more like a polite argument between reality and common sense.
Huge plots of land were cleared and buzzing with activity. Steel and stone. Mana circles and engine smoke. Construction vehicles rumbled past tamed beasts with union-level discipline. Wyverns hauled beams through the air while golems and treants assembled structural frames with the quiet patience of creatures that had never known deadlines. Mages floated slabs of reinforced material alongside cranes, cooperating in the stiff, professional way of people who didn't trust each other but respected efficiency.
At the center of it all stood Bub, holding an unfolded construction blueprint and scanning the site like a proud parent watching a child juggle explosives correctly. Beside him were Monny and Ravendawn's Archmage Gregor.
All three wore construction helmets and reflective vests.
On Bub and Monny, the gear looked appropriate.
On Gregor, whose archmage robe still billowed beneath the vest and long sleeves, it looked deeply wrong.
"My oh my," Gregor said, scratching his head as he looked over the site. "You truly weren't exaggerating when you said the expo construction could be completed before next month."
"Well," Bub muttered, eyes still on the blueprint, "it would've been done in two weeks if someone hadn't been so emotionally attached to profit margins."
"If it weren't for me," Monny replied flatly, "this expo would be a memorable financial tragedy."
"But it really is a profitable event," Gregor said, nodding. "And once again, thank you for choosing to hold the expo in Dawn City."
"Don't mention it," Monny said. "This also lets us reintroduce the Canal after it was closed during the war with Dwargonia. Two birds. One budget."
Gregor hummed approvingly.
"So," Bub said, folding part of the blueprint, "do you plan to present one of your researches at the expo as well, Archmage?"
"You should call him Prime Minister now, Bub," Monny corrected.
"Hohoho," Gregor laughed lightly. "It's fine. I'm still trying to convince myself that title belongs to me."
He let out a small sigh, then smiled.
"And no," Gregor continued, "my student—the new archmage—will be presenting his own research. I want this expo to introduce Ravendawn's new Archmage to the world."
"Ah. That's unfortunate," Bub said.
Gregor turned toward him. "May I ask why?"
"Don't mind him, Prime Minister," Monny said calmly. "He was hoping for the opportunity to defeat you on the same subject. But with science."
"Of course!" Bub declared, straightening up. "The world deserves to know that science and technology are the true kings of progress!"
"Hohohoho," Gregor laughed, entirely unoffended.
At that moment, a large bus rolled into the construction yard and came to a stop a short distance away.
The doors opened.
Hannya stepped out first, followed by several officials from Murica and Ravendawn—and behind them, a procession of wealthy-looking individuals from various races. Their clothes varied wildly in style and culture, but they all shared one thing in common:
Modern construction helmets.
Modern construction vests.
Hannya immediately began directing them, gesturing toward different sections of the site while explaining something animatedly. The visitors stared in open awe, particularly at the Murican heavy construction vehicles grinding through terrain that would've terrified most medieval city planners.
"Who are those people?" Bub muttered.
"Overseers," Gregor replied. "Representatives from the nations participating in the expo."
"They're here to ensure their national pavilions are built according to the designs they submitted," Monny added.
Bub frowned. "Tch. They're not here because they doubt my work, right?"
"Each of their governments paid a handsome participation fee," Monny said. "Of course they'd send someone to stare at the process."
"Hohoho," Gregor chuckled, eyes gleaming. "I can hardly wait to see academicians from all over the world gather in one place. Mages and engineers alike."
"Yes," Bub said, grinning. "Every nation showing off their achievements—"
He paused, then laughed darkly.
"—only to be trampled by modern technology. Built by me! Muahahahaha!"
---
Dwargonia, Hearthguard Cairn
Since allying with Murica, Dwargonia had undergone many changes.
As usual, Murica began the friendship the only way it knew how—by ripping their friend's wallet.
Within months, the dwarven capital was flooded with iconic Murican brands. Burger joints sprang up one after another, proudly exporting Murican culture straight into the heart of Hearthguard Cairn. McDownfalls. Burger Tyrants. A Wendry's, complete with its signature twin-tailed demon girl mascot who smiled far too wide and showed far too many teeth.
Murica expected the same overwhelming success they had enjoyed in Ravendawn.
They were wrong.
They had made one critical miscalculation.
They had underestimated just how stubborn dwarves could be.
How the dwarves stubbornly insisted that Murican portions were too small.
How the dwarves stubbornly insisted that meat should be grilled with proper charcoal.
How the dwarves stubbornly insisted that no one—no one—handled grilled meat better than dwarves.
And so, after being introduced to the concept of Murican chain restaurants, the dwarves did what they always did when confronted with foreign ideas.
They improved them.
With dwarven portions.
Before long, Murican McDownfalls burgers were losing customers to McAnvil's.
Burger Tyrants were being crushed by Burger Thanes.
Five Demons were outmatched by Six Dwarves.
And Wendry's was steadily losing ground to Grendy's, whose mascot glared instead of smiled.
Now, dwarven chains were expanding outward.
Preparing to penetrate the Murican market.
This time, Murica's free trade agreement had backfired.
---
Hearthguard Cairn, Murica Embassy
Meanwhile, after several days of travel aboard a commercial airship, Solo and the Misfits finally arrived at the capital of Dwargonia.
Their first stop was the Murica Embassy in Hearthguard Cairn.
"Oh no,"
Ambassador Mara said the moment he saw Solo suddenly appear at his office door. He leaned back in his chair, frowned deeply, then clapped a hand to his forehead.
"I told them it wasn't a good idea to send him to Murica."
Solo could only stare, then awkwardly scratch his cheek.
"Err… I'm not entirely sure I follow," Solo said. "But I'm here for personal matters."
"Huh? Oh—yes, yes, Sir Solo, of course," Mara said, instantly standing up. He stepped forward with an awkward handshake and a smile that looked painfully rehearsed. "What a surprise."
"Why didn't anyone inform me that you were coming?" Mara added quickly.
---
Moments later
Solo, Mara, and the Misfits were lounging in the embassy's study room. Solo had just finished explaining his situation.
"I see… quite a circumstance," Mara muttered.
He paused, thinking.
"Well, I suppose the least I can do is arrange a meeting with Council Member Tubrat Silverfist."
"Yes," Solo said with a nod. "That would be great."
---
Great Fortress, Grand Council Chamber
"Gaah! See, Dwordoug! We told you it would be a mistake to send him to Murica!" Orroth Sandbeard roared, pointing accusingly across the chamber.
"Oh dear me," Nelfilyn Bluespire said, pressing a hand to her temple. "Even the Murica Prime Minister himself has come to complain."
"But even their Foreign Minister said it would be fine!" Dwordoug shot back defensively.
The moment every council member laid eyes on the Murica Prime Minister standing at the hall's entrance, the chamber erupted like this all at once.
"Err…" Solo muttered.
"Sigh…" Tubrat Silverfist said, turning toward Solo. "Mr. Prime Minister, whatever damage he caused, we will cover it."
Solo slowly turned his head toward Mara.
"Is there something I need to know?" Solo asked.
"Ehm," Mara said quickly, stepping forward. "Mr. Prime Minister is here in Dwargonia for personal matters. Not to, uh… 'complain' about anything."
Silence.
The entire Grand Council froze.
"Oh. Ah. Welcome, then. Haha," Dwordoug muttered.
"Haha, you should have informed us in advance," Tubrat said. "We would have prepared a feast."
"So," Orroth added hastily, "what can we help you with, hehe?"
"Just tell us anything. We'll help. Haha," Nelfilyn said.
Solo looked around the chamber, then slowly turned back to Mara.
Suspiciously.
---
Moments later, Solo had just finished explaining his circumstances to the Grand Council.
"I see… the dragon egg, eh?" Tubrat Silverfist muttered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, my clan keeps it in our home province of Silverhold. Very well. I will accompany you to check it out, Mr. Pri—"
He paused.
"—Mr. Solomon."
"Tubrat," Nelfilyn growled, "don't you dare go to Silverhold and leave us to prepare for the expo by ourselves."
"Yeah!" Orroth added. "You just want to use this as an excuse to run from work."
"Hmph!" Tubrat folded his arms and pouted. "I wouldn't want to run away if you all had agreed to use my design for our pavilion."
"Stop being childish!" Nelfilyn snapped. "You already lost the vote!"
"Then I demand a vote! To redo the vote!" Tubrat snapped back.
"You can't do that?!" Orroth snapped as well.
"Yes I can!" Tubrat declared. "We're a democracy now!"
"Here we go again," Dwordoug muttered to himself, calmly sipping his hot tea.
The dwarven Grand Council continued bickering and shouting, voices overlapping and fingers pointing.
They had completely forgotten the presence of Solo and Mara.
"Hm," Solo whispered to Mara, "are they always like this?"
"After we introduced democracy to them," Mara whispered back. "Yes. Pretty much, sir."
Solo watched the arguing council in silence for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully.
Somewhere deep inside, he felt a strange sense of comfort.
At least it wasn't only his government that behaved like a dysfunctional family.
---
Axebreaker Mansion
At the end of the day, the dwarven Grand Council finally decided that Tubrat could not accompany Solo.
Luckily, Dwordoug's wife was from the Silverfist clan.
And so, Solo's group ended up visiting Dwordoug's home now.
"Gah! See!? I told you!" Hilda suddenly snapped at Dwordoug the moment she saw Solo. "What city did he destroy this time?!"
Dwordoug visibly flinched.
Solo just stood there, blinking.
"…I'm seriously going to talk to Levi when I get back to Murica," Solo muttered to Mara.
---
Bashington DC, Dwargonia Embassy
Meanwhile, the dwarf who had been mentioned far too many times today could be seen sitting very comfortably on a sofa, eyes glued to a television.
Belphy's latest masterpiece—Transformers—played in full cinematic glory.
Around him, Dancer and Comet lounged with bowls of popcorn, watching with rapt attention.
"My goodness!" Cinderclaws gasped. "Why did I never think of that!?"
He suddenly sprang up from the sofa.
"That's it!" he declared loudly. "A giant steam armor that can transform into a car—no, a airship! That will be my project here in Murica! Hohoho!"
"NO YOU'RE NOT!" Vixen's voice echoed from the kitchen.
---
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