When Ryan arrived at the dwarven smithy by the Hinnon River, Anglaron and his entourage were already there.
A crowd of long-bearded dwarves gathered inside the smithy, inspecting the equipment installed by Delron-Feynson, chatting incessantly. Their main complaints started with the lack of materials, then moved on to criticizing the effectiveness of the hydraulic press, the quality of the anvils and hammers, and finally the quality of the lunch provided by Ryan.
One dwarf complained the meat was too tough, another that it was too tender and bloody, and yet another said it was neither tough nor tender, and thus lacked any distinctive quality.
The steward, Carstenberg, was sweating profusely, overwhelmed by the grievances of the long-bearded dwarves.
Unbeknownst to others, these long-bearded dwarves were actually quite satisfied with the smithy. However, nitpicking was a common habit among these elders because dwarves absolutely cannot accept being technically inferior to humans, even if they are employed by them.
Clark the Stern, the president of the Dwarf Rune Craftsman Guild, was not as talkative. His long white beard nearly touched the ground as he carefully examined the blueprints in silence.
Clark, as the oldest and most respected master rune craftsman and the president of the guild, was typically a man of few words, as was the case for most master rune craftsmen.
"A full barrel of beer is silent, a half barrel clangs."
—A dwarven saying about those who boast about their skills and knowledge without mastering their craft.
"How is it? Mr. Dwarf, can my weapon be made?" Anglaron asked expectantly.
Wearing enchanted mithril plate armor and towering over the 1.5-meter-tall Clark, the over two-meter-tall Anglaron looked down as Clark craned his neck to speak: "Such a weapon, this level of weapon... you think it's so easy, for dwarves..."
"For dwarves?" Anglaron's heart sank, internally complaining about the emperor's failure to provide him with weapons, forcing him to humbly request the dwarves.
"For dwarves... of course it's no problem!!!" Clark's face turned red with excitement. He slammed his hand on the table, leaving a huge imprint on the wood. "Excellent, this is a new technology and rune inscription method I've never seen before! After more than five hundred years, I finally have a new challenge!"
"Fantastic!" Anglaron finally smiled as he saw Ryan enter, and happily exclaimed, "Brother, our weapons are finally sorted."
"Great!" Ryan, unable to hide his excitement, respectfully performed a knightly gesture towards Clark: "Thank you very much, Master Clark!"
"You don't need to thank me. I only came down the mountain for the blueprints and the oath gold you promised." Clark remained unresponsive to their gratitude. At over a thousand years old, he had seen too much to be easily moved. "I've taken the blueprints, where is the oath gold?"
"Here." Anglaron pulled out a large bag filled with the promised gold.
"Hmm." Clark turned and gestured for a dwarf to check it.
A long-bearded dwarf came forward, took the bag from Anglaron, and sliced it open with a blade. A cascade of dwarven oath gold spilled out onto the floor.
"What's this supposed to mean, Mr. Dwarf?" Anglaron was displeased, sensing a lack of trust.
"We've given a lot to humans, Mr. Anglaron, but not all humans treat us sincerely. To prevent any unpleasantness, we need to settle in advance. You get what you pay for." Clark placed his Doomsday Anvil in the center of the workshop, ignited the forge, and the magical wind blew as dwarven rune craftsmen operated the bellows and brought several large basins of water and carts of coal.
The Doomsday Anvil, a treasure of the dwarf race, had been handed down for ten thousand years, said to be used by the dwarf god Grungni himself. It was completely made of vibrating gold and covered in sacred rune inscriptions.
Delron-Feynson, a rune craftsman employed by Ryan, explained to Anglaron, "My lord, Mr. Anglaron, dwarves have been deceived more than once in their dealings, including by humans. Master Clark does not trust anyone; he's used to settling up before starting work, otherwise, he doesn't listen to even the High King's commands."
Anglaron looked displeased: "Fine, as long as the weapons are fine."
The long-bearded dwarf counted out 155 pieces of oath gold and repacked the remaining twenty or thirty pieces: "Not one more, not one less. Here's the remainder. We will now start crafting your weapons. The methods of crafting rune weapons are a closely
guarded secret of the dwarves, so please step outside."
"And what about me?" Delron approached, eager to help.
"Come and assist me, Delron. Let's see if you've improved over the years!" Clark's voice, as stern as ever, came from the side: "I've seen your work. It's still rubbish, but at least it hasn't gone off track. I want to see if you can learn more advanced rune inscribing."
"Ah?! Yes, yes!" Delron hurried over to Clark.
Being instructed by Clark the Stern was a supreme honor for any rune craftsman!
It is well known that the number of dwarf rune craftsmen has dwindled, these living treasures connecting the present to the last knowledge of the golden age of dwarves. Many powerful war runes and enchantment runes have been lost, solely because these craftsmen didn't find anyone worthy to pass on their skills.
As Ryan and Anglaron stood by the door, Clark impatiently spoke up: "Go out, humans. Give me three days, and I will craft the weapons you desire. Now, get out immediately, or the deal is off!"
"Alright, alright, we're going," Ryan shrugged helplessly, pulling Anglaron out: "Let's go, brother."
"Alright then," Anglaron muttered, "I was hoping to see if the dwarves would praise Omnisiah or something before crafting."
"That's mechanics, not blacksmithing. Dwarves would praise the god Grungni."
"Close enough."
Anglaron was eventually pulled out of the smithy by Ryan. The bright summer sun shone over the Earldom of Glamorgan, the clear river water flowing, as the two walked leisurely along the riverbank, chatting relaxedly.
"Brother, fancy a drink?" Anglaron took off his flask, filled with the dwarf-bought Bagman beer, his favorite along with Kislev vodka, honey mead, and Bretonnian brandy.
"Delicious." Ryan took the flask and gulped down a large swig, the rich and crisp taste of the Bagman beer making him squint in pleasure.
"Brother, dwarves hold grudges; make sure to keep an eye out, or they'll jot down your deeds in their little books and fume over them from time to time," Ryan joked after handing back the flask: "Have you heard of the Two and a Half Coins story?"
"Two and a Half Coins?" Anglaron took a hearty swig from the flask, burping contentedly: "No, what's that about? Does it involve dwarves?"
"About ninety-five years ago, the Elector Count of Ostmark in the Empire struck a deal with the Dwarven Kingdom," Ryan began the story. "The Duke of Ostmark, also the Elector Count of Bechafen, decided to build a sturdy castle in the Ostmark province to guard against potential invasions from northern Chaos tribes. The Elector Count entrusted this massive project to the dwarves, and a price was agreed upon, after which the dwarves began their work."
"After about two years, the dwarves completed a superbly defensive fortress named Kreighoff, situated on the main road between Bechafen and the Kingdom of Kislev. After inspecting it, the Elector Count was very pleased and began to pay for the construction."
"The payment was made using one hundred and forty-four carts, which were delivered to the dwarves. This should have been the end of the matter, but when the dwarves counted the money, they discovered it was short by two gold coins and fifty silver coins," Ryan said with a wry smile. "Enraged, the dwarves sent a delegation to the capital of Ostmark, Bechafen, demanding an explanation from the Elector Count."
"My goodness." Anglaron knew what was coming; he covered his face, unable to watch.
"The Elector Count didn't take the dwarves' complaint seriously at all, casually suggesting that there might have been some losses during transport, and that he was not responsible," Ryan continued. "Seeing the Elector Count refuse to provide an explanation angered the dwarves further. They mustered an army from Karak Kadrin, attacked and destroyed the newly built Kreighoff Castle, flattening it to the ground in their wrath, declaring this was the price for deceiving dwarves!"
"In the end, with the dwarven army besieging his city, the Elector Count had no choice but to pay the 'final installment' of two gold and fifty silver coins. The dwarves then withdrew their forces. The outcome was that the castle was gone, the garrison was gone, the money was gone, and the Elector was left with nothing."
"Hahaha, I can't believe it; dwarves hold grudges like that?" Anglaron burst into laughter, shaking his head: "Alright, whatever the dwarves say goes, I
guess."
"Hahaha~" The two continued laughing as they walked.
Before long, a kingdom knight named Hex rode up on his horse, sweat dripping from his brow: "Earl!"
"What is it?" Ryan looked up at the panting knight.
"Large groups of High Elves have arrived at Jeane Town; they specifically asked to see you!" Hex wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Alright, I'll be there." Ryan thought of Tegris's arrival and turned to Anglaron: "Brother, want to come see?"
"Sure."
...
Today, Jeane Town was bustling with excitement because an army of High Elves had arrived, drawing a massive crowd of curious onlookers. Serfs gathered, partly in fear and partly in curiosity, engaging in a merciless spectacle of the High Elf troops.
"It's elves! Elves!"
"Don't we see elves often?"
"Blind! What do you know? These are High Elves, not the usual wood elves we see!"
"Wow! Legendary High Elves! This is my first time seeing them!"
"So glamorous, so impressive, so orderly!"
Hundreds of serfs rushed out of the town, gawking at the High Elf army. They were curious, yet without much hostility, as the town served as a regular trading post with the wood elves, making the residents accustomed to pointy-eared beings.
The High Elves, however, were very annoyed by this impolite human behavior. Hos Swordmage Zoltan approached Tegris: "Archmage Tegris, these monkeys really don't know any better."
"Quiet, we're here to find someone, not to teach humans a lesson," Tegris leaned on Lilith's Moon Staff, his gaze first on Jeane Town's walls and cannons, then shifting to a group of wood elves entering the town with carts. His tone carried an unusual hint of interest: "Interesting, Ryan Macado has established trade relations with Esley. I remember Esley only trades with the most trustworthy of humans."
"This human hero managed to kill 'Red Eye' Egil Styrbjorn, proving his strength is no issue. Gaining the wood elves' recognition means his abilities and credibility are affirmed by them. And look," Tegris's gaze shifted, "there are many dwarves here too."
"Being able to slaughter that 'Red Eye,' this Ryan fellow must be somewhat capable... Dwarfs, monkeys, and our distant kin, aside from the chaotic filth, these are the three things I like least about this city," Hos Swordmage Zoltan shook his head.
"Shut it, Zoltan," Tegris lifted his head as a group of wood elves approached. "Our kin are here."
A group of wood elves arrived before him: "Archmage Tegris, greetings. It's unexpected to see you here. I am Forest Lord Dalina. May I ask what brings our esteemed kin from Osuan here?"
"I've come to see Earl Ryan Macado," Tegris's face remained impassive, his demeanor calm: "I'm pleased to encounter Esley, and I bring greetings from Phoenix King Finubar and Eternal Queen Elariel."
"Thank you, I will convey your greetings," Dalina nodded with a smile. "It is indeed a fortunate day to meet kin. May Kurnous and Isha bless you, but I believe our conversation ends here, for Lord Ryan has arrived."
...
Along the banks of the Hinnon River, Ryan and Anglaron appeared before the High Elves. Ryan, in fluent Elvish, greeted: "Welcome, guests from Osuan. I am Ryan, Ryan Macado, the Lady's Chosen Champion."
"Tegris, Supreme Archmage of the High Elf Safrui Hos White Tower Mage Council."
"Pleased to meet you."
Updated! End of the month, vote for more!
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