As Daveed walked past the forges, the familiar clamor of the dwarven workday enveloped him. The air was thick with the heat of molten metal and the rhythmic hammering of anvils. He caught snippets of conversations from the dwarves around him, their voices tinged with frustration and bitterness.
"By the gods, that bastard's at it again!" One dwarf grumbled, his brow furrowed with annoyance, "He's increasing our quotas and cutting down on breaks. How much more can we endure?"
"Aye!" Another chimed in, "And the worst part is, he's got us working double shifts without a thought for our well-being. It's like he's trying to work us into the ground."
Daveed's mind drifted back to his own experiences with the forge. The sound of a hammer against metal was not new to him; he had spent countless hours crafting his armor and weapons in the forge.
