Through the magnifying glass, Hopes glanced at the silver ore in his hand carefully and continuously rotated it under the sunlight to observe it from various angles.
After a while, he used a bizarre shaft of reflection to confirm the quality of the ore.
"Mithril, more than 50% pure," he muttered to himself. He placed the ore in a wooden trunk to his left. He then picked up another ore from the pile in front of him and began the observations again.
After a few minutes, he shook his head, muttering "silver ore" before throwing it far, far away into a rattan basket.
