Lord: Starting from a Goblin Nest

”Alright, you got it—” Shuke was quite obedient. He immediately counted out the gold coins and handed them to Ron, along with the Alchemist’s Backpack.

Then, ten minutes later, Elden’s screams echoed throughout the entire trade station.

”Give me back my money! Give me back my backpack!” the old Dwarf shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Ron. ”This is deception! Extortion! Is that really all it was?!”

”I told you,” Ron said, spreading his hands. ”It’s very simple—just a paper-thin secret.”

’Something that’s only worth two points on the practical portion of the exam.’

”Dean, Dean, calm down—” Shuke scooped Elden off the floor, stopping him from running right into Delaford’s blade. ”Didn’t you always say it yourself? Some things are paper-thin secrets, but without someone to point them out, you could spend a lifetime trying to break through—”

”You traitorous apprentice! It’s not your money, so you don’t care, is that it?” Elden grew even more furious. ”How could you take his side?!”

”Alright, Dean, calm down, please calm down,” Shuke said, an apologetic smile plastered on his face as he led his teacher toward a guest room upstairs. ”Why don’t you rest for a bit? I still have some other matters to discuss with Mr. Ron.”

Finally, after a booming ”Swindler!” was heard from upstairs, things finally quieted down.

”Your dean seems healthy enough,” Ron remarked, glancing at Shuke as he came down the stairs. ”He’s certainly got a set of lungs on him.”

”Ah, with something like Fading Sickness, who can really say,” Shuke sighed. ”As his student, all I can do is offer what little help I can.”

”I was the one who broke our agreement. I’ll accept whatever penalty you deem necessary. I just hope our partnership can continue. Please, rest assured, a situation like this will not happen again.”

”Since this is business, I’ll naturally want a larger cut,” Ron said, waving his hand dismissively. ”And unless it’s important, don’t bring him around. With a mouth like that, he wouldn’t last long here, let alone anywhere else.”

It wasn’t as if Shuke had never dealt with them before. He knew Ron wasn’t exaggerating, so he could only agree with a wry smile.

”Are you done?” Sulina asked, standing up. ”That dean of yours is quite a handful. Now, take a look at who I’ve brought—Annie, greet Lord Ron.”

The little girl was indeed with her. Upon hearing Sulina’s words, she hurriedly bowed to Ron.

”This is... the carpenter you mentioned?” Ron asked, sizing up Annie. ”A Sorcerer? With a sylvan bloodline?”

”Your eye is as sharp as ever!” Sulina said flatteringly. ”The child is from a distant relative’s family. Her ancestors had dealings with a tree spirit, and the power of Magic manifested in her.”

”She may not be a particularly skilled Caster yet, but I’m certain she can be of great help to you!”

”A novice,” Ron nodded. ”That’s fine. How do I handle her wages?”

”How could I possibly let you spend your money? I’ll cover all her expenses.”

Ron nodded, satisfied. ”Excellent. Welcome to Delusional Land, Annie.”

”And as for my candidate...” Sharlowe said, clapping the Dwarf Blacksmith on the shoulder. ”This is Rurik, an old friend of mine. He has a hundred years of experience in forging and smelting. In his hands, any metal can be given new life!”

”His temperament is a bit... peculiar, though. So, uh, he isn’t willing to forge just anything.”

”I have three ’no-forges’,” the Dwarf, Rurik, said, setting down his cup. ”If you agree to them, I’ll stay. I don’t need wages, just room and board.”

”I’m listening,” Ron said, studying him. They were short on everything here, so as long as Rurik’s demands weren’t too outrageous, he was willing to accept them.

”First, I don’t forge farm tools,” Rurik said, holding up a finger. ”They’re too simple. Beneath my notice. A waste of time.”

”Second, I don’t forge weapons. A weapon’s purpose is to harm. I don’t like my creations being used as instruments of violence, so I don’t forge them.”

”And third, I don’t forge armor. The Hammer of World Forging teaches us to be tough and unyielding in the face of disaster. Armor dulls the senses, so I don’t forge that either.”

Ron: ”...Then may I ask what you *do* forge?”

”Works of art!” An astonishing light flared in Rurik’s eyes. ”I, Rurik, have sworn to become a legendary master craftsman! Only works of art are worthy of my forge! My hands will produce only the finest, most timeless legends!”

”Like that, for instance!” Rurik pointed to the Grip of the Vast Wave slung across Sera’s back. ”That is the kind of thing I aspire to create! If you please, may I have a look?”

Sera handed over the Grip of the Vast Wave. This wasn’t a forge, so she wasn’t worried the Dwarf would get an itch to start tinkering with it and accidentally break it.

”True Kasika Ice Steel!” Rurik breathed, carefully stroking the Grip of the Vast Wave. ”The Beastman who forged this must be a great Caster, the likes of which hasn’t been seen in centuries!”

”How can you be so sure it was made by a Beastman?” Sera asked, curious. The Dwarf didn’t even know the weapon’s full name.

Rurik excitedly pointed out several spots on the Two-Handed Giant Sword to Sera. ”Look here, child, and here, and here! Only Kasika Ice Steel produces this unique pattern and sheen when forged! Alas, it’s a shame I’m so far from where it’s found. In all my years, I’ve only ever touched a tiny piece, and Sharlowe here wouldn’t even buy it for me.”

The merchant didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ”Old Rurik, do you have any idea how much that stuff costs where we’re from? It’s not a question of whether I’m *willing* to buy it for you!”

”But you can’t guarantee you’ll forge something of this quality every time, can you?” Ron asked. ”Shouldn’t there be a range, of sorts?”

”The upper limit is this giant sword. The lower limit is the chest armor that Half-Elf is wearing,” Rurik said, pointing at Aive. ”That’s Dwarven craft, and I am certainly better than whoever made it!”

”If I ever produce a single item inferior to that Chest Armor, you can set my beard on fire!”

For a Dwarf, swearing an oath on one’s beard was an extremely serious matter. Ron and the others had no choice but to believe that this Dwarf Blacksmith was likely as skilled as he claimed.

”But didn’t you say you don’t forge weapons or armor?” Aive asked with a frown.

”Correct!” Rurik nodded gravely. ”I only create works of art! Sharlowe, bring my two samples for the young Half-Elf lady and the Priest!”

Sharlowe immediately went upstairs. When he returned, he was making a tremendous CLANGING and BANGING sound. The suit of armor and the shield he was carrying were clearly quite heavy.

”Here you are, ladies,” Rurik said with a proud bow. ”See if they fit. Are they too heavy? Unwieldy? Or perhaps you dislike the engravings and color?”

”Consider this Full Body Armor and this Kite Shield my pledge of loyalty, as well as proof of my abilities.”