The Wood Stone Clan of Vidor was a clan that had engaged in felling forests and reclaiming wilderness for years. Their work often involved clearing trees over newly discovered mines, a tedious task that wasted the dwarves’ natural talents as craftsn. Yet, due to the clan system, the dwarves of the Wood Stone Clan had no choice but to undertake such labor.
Vidor was the grandson of a forr Clan Leader of the Wood Stone Clan.
Although his lineage made him sowhat noble within the clan, his grandfather had long been buried, and his mother had left him early due to an accident, while his father was a greedy gambler. Thus, no one within the clan held Vidor in high regard.
That day, Vidor was ridiculed by his peers and chased up the hillside, where he wandered alone amongst the mountains.
Vidor shook with cold, his mind full of the sneering faces of his peers teasing him. In the cold wind of the forest, he fantasized that he would one day beco the most outstanding craftsman in the entire kingdom, and upon his triumphant return ho, he would witness those sa peers groveling in their abject submission.
This cynical wretch now imagined in the chill wind a future of exacting revenge for every slight.
"Hiris, I beg you for your grace..."
He prayed to Hiris and swore to the creator of dwarves and giants that once he beca a craftsman, he would surely avenge those who had hard him—and would do so a hundredfold.
At the sa ti, Vidor also prayed to God, beseeching the Divine from Heaven to bestow upon him a treasure capable of forcing people to their knees, so he could repay a thousandfold the humiliations he had endured over the years.
Vidor prayed, shivering, in the black night where not even a hand could be seen before his face, the mountain wind fiercely cold, as if to split open the very bones of a man.
He kept hearing the sound of breaking tree branches and couldn’t help worrying whether the strong wind would snap the trees and crush him to death.
The dwarf’s concern was justified.
However, the breaking of the trees did not bring him death but a chanical Book from the future.
Suddenly, a mighty gale swept through, and an old tree could not withstand the assault of the fierce wind, bursting and toppling down beside him. Vidor happened to be walking under this tree. Startled, he dodged to the left and right, narrowly avoiding the fatal blow.
And coincidentally, the chanical Book that Schiller had carelessly discarded ten years earlier fell neatly into Vidor’s hands.
The young dwarf looked down, dazedly gazing at the book in his hands, and then he opened the volu, flipping through its contents with the keen eyesight developed by his people’s generations of living in the mines.
He could not read.
But this did not an he could not understand the illustrations within the book.
After only a few glances, Vidor’s eyes widened, and his mustache trembled violently.
The drawings were so exquisite, the chanical structures so intricate and beautiful, and the shapes of steel so well layered they resembled clockwork!
This was truly... a treasure bestowed by God!
In awe, Vidor swiftly knelt down, holding the to aloft like the most devout priest.
"Hiris! Hiris, the God of Mountains and Craftsmanship!
I praise you! I madly praise you!"
Finding the pie that had fallen from the sky, Vidor was imrsed in ecstatic joy, frantically praising and extolling Hiris, for in his eyes, such intricate chanical structures could only be the work of the divine hand of the God of Mountains and Craftsmanship.
Clutching the chanical Book to his chest, Vidor’s eyes shone in the darkness of the night, as if he could see a future pathway leading to becoming a craftsman.
With this book, he would beco the greatest craftsman in the world.
And before achieving this grand goal, he first intended to use the book to take revenge on those who had insulted him.
Holding the chanical Book, Vidor walked step by step down the hill, returning to the midst of his clan in the darkness.
So people, despite their humble origins, are extrely fortunate, so much so that a pie from heaven might just happen to fall onto their heads.
However...
The pie that lands on one’s head doesn’t necessarily always belong to them.
The gifts of fate can arrive after sunset and be lost by the break of dawn.
............
Vidor was an impatient man.
Though he knew he should not show the chanical Book to others, every ti he feverishly noted down the chanical structures from the book, he couldn’t help but show them off.
Vidor enjoyed displaying his findings in front of everyone.
When his peers, who had once slighted and scorned him, saw his previously unseen talent, their faces paled, and Vidor could not help but laugh arrogantly.
Using the chanical Book, he recklessly displayed the chanical structures he had learned, claiming they were inspirations from Hiris in his dreams.
The grown-ups in the clan gradually began to appreciate the young dwarf’s talent, and the current Clan Leader started paying attention to this suddenly erging prodigy. For a while, Vidor beca the most conspicuous figure within the entire clan.
He used this to his advantage and began to settle scores with his peers one by one.
"Given Fariga’s ability, he’s better off tending sheep."
"Let tell you, Carlo has no talent whatsoever."
"You want Ruel to be my assistant? Sorry, he’s more suited to be my servant."
...Vidor spared no effort in unleashing his long-held hatred, using his "talent" to behave capriciously within the clan. He deliberately persuaded the Clan Leader and Elders, who thought highly of him, to arrange all manner of humble and arduous work for those peers.
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