After acquiring everything needed to begin the process of repairing Sacchan, we returned to Bogart's temporary lodging at a communal workshop called the Everburning Forge. It was a building with five wings that shaped it into a star when looking down from above. The place got its name from the center chamber where a massive forge, powered by magic, allowed the smelting of almost any ore known to this world.
I might have caught a sight of it when Bishamonten kicked me from her pagoda. Each of the Forge's wings served as a dormitory, ranked similarly to the Guild to differentiate the wheat from the chaff, for in-training journeymen and beginners polishing their craft.
Bogart was at the second highest of five ranks, a Kan-skirt. This meant she was given free reign to use the highest quality enchanted tools, priority use of rare ores and minerals, and permitted access to all facilities within the Forge.
"God damn is it hot in here." I brushed the sweat from my face only for my forehead to quickly form droplets again.
"Over here!" Bogart sat in front of the mouth of a roaring forge framed with the stone statue of a dragon's open mouth. It looked as though it was breathing fire from the glowing coals inside. She pulled out a piece of metal from the forge's jaws that was shining bright orange and began hammering it flat on top of an anvil.
"We got your shit! What's next?" I yelled over the banging metal.
Satisfied with having beaten it into a metal band, the reptilian beastling set it aside with two others and finally turned her attention to us. However, the surprised look on her face was not what I expected. Particularly, the look she gave the short dryad girl clutching my jacket behind me.
"Now where in the eighteen gods did you find her?" Bogart asked.
"You said you needed a dryad," I said.
"I said I needed a seed, not a whole dryad!" she complained, scratching the back of her head.
"Thought maybe we could get one out of her." I turned to face the dryad girl who was just a bit shorter than Yui but couldn't have looked much older than us. "You got one on ya?"
She shook her head, knocking loose a few dried petals from her hair.
Anya and Yui didn't have a clue either, offering me a useless shrug instead.
"What are we supposed to do then? Can I wring it out of her?" I asked Bogart.
"Uu…" The dryad began to whimper and tear up.
"Aww, Anego. You made her cry!" Yui hugged the dryad, who was now clinging to her now.
I threw my hands in the air. "Why am I suddenly the bad guy?"
"Bogart, what do you guys have there?" a gruff voice asked.
Everyone spun around to a much older fair-skinned elf, whose graying hair was tied to a thick braid that laid over his barrel of a chest. His arms were no less thick, almost like a caricature of buff cartoon dudes. He looked down at us through one eye since the other was cloudy, likely blinded due to an injury from working near the forge.
"They are the ones I came with from Cynderace that I told you about. It's appropriate to say I work for them now," Bogart said. She then beat a fist into his chest with a thud. "Allow me to introduce Slayn Klainel. One of eight Don-skirts, the highest of five ranks, of the Everburning Forge. A master of masters when it comes to armorsmithing."
Slayn stuck a large hand out to me. I clasped his hand and shook, but it was more like his hand consumed mine whole and flailed it around.
"You have my thanks for looking after Bogart in Old Bogart's stead," he said.
"She works to earn her keep." I nodded.
Bogart explained our predicament to Slayn. Even though she was under him in terms of rank and experience, he listened with the discipline of a student. That was what differentiated a master from everyone else. They were still humble enough to know there was more to learn.
"Dryads are a fickle race," he finally said after a long, contemplative moment of silence. "One thing remains true about them— they are quick to respond to kindness."
Yui started pinching the dryad's cheeks like a mother would their baby. "So, we gotta pamper 'em?"
"Or hug them. Like this!" Anya scooped Yui and the dryad into her arms in an attempt to show affection, but all she was doing was squeezing the life out of them.
"No, I don't think that's right…" Slayn said.
How was I going to show a dryad kindness? I already made her sad by suggesting to choke a seed out of her.
A water trough caught my attention. Dryads were tree spirits, and the one we had looked dehydrated. Maybe giving it some water would do it good.
"That water over there clean?" I asked Bogart.
"Aye." She tossed me a bucket that was laying underneath a workbench.
I went to fill the bucket full of water and came back to the dryad staring expectantly at me.
"Bet those bastards kept you locked up and didn't give you anything to drink, huh?" I cupped my hands into the bucket and splashed water onto the thick roots that were her hair.
Immediately, they began to soak up every last drop and the dryad was looking happier. The leaves that covered her body filled with a deeper green. Fresh, new buds appeared on her head.
She smiled and lowered her head for more.
"Oh, oh! I wanna try!" Yui said. She grabbed the entire bucket and slowly emptied it onto the dryad's body.
At first, the dryad was enjoying it. But then…
"Uh. Yui… I think you're drowning it," I warned her.
"Auu…" The dryad's eyes were spinning in her sockets, and she was wobbling back and forth.
"Whaddya mean drowning? Plants can't drown," she said.
I snatched the bucket from her hand which had been practically emptied out. "You said the same thing about the vegetable garden in elementary school. Then they died from being overwatered!"
"Urk—" The dryad's cheeks puffed up, but she couldn't hold it in anymore and vomited half the water she was fed. A tiny seed the size of my fingernail fell out of her mouth. It was already beginning to grow, with tendrils emerging from the shell.
"That's it!" Bogart shouted. "Now we have everything to repair the bat."