The Runesmith

Chapter 669: An Offer.

“I’m not sure about this, boss… why don’t I sit this one out instead?”

“No.”

“But…”

“No arguments, Master Bernir. Straighten up. We have an old dwarf to win over. At least try to behave like a tier three master.”

“Aye… but why do you need me for this? Won’t the old beard just be annoyed with me?”

Roland passed through the stronghold gate, looking different from his usual self. The armor he wore for his Siegfried persona was gone, replaced by a half plate suit that left parts of his body uncovered but still bore intricate runes. His face was also partially visible, as he wore a mask similar to the one he used within the Valerian city estate.

At his side was Bernir, his assistant, though for now he stood as an equal. The two had come to speak with the master runesmith. Roland had spent a long time considering how to make a good impression and had concluded that the best approach was to put his strongest assets forward. Bernir was one of them and not just figuratively.

“He is not like the dwarven masters you know. Your origin and bloodline will not matter. You will be judged on your skills alone.”

“Aye, but… I am not sure those so-called skills are good enough, boss…”

Roland paused and looked at his assistant. Bernir was growing pale with stress. It was clear he still feared facing true masters of the craft, worried they would look down on him. He possessed a rare class, but he had not had much time to develop it. Even so, Roland saw him as a valuable part of the exchange to come.

Bernir’s class was not the only thing Roland intended to showcase. His prosthetic arm stood as proof of his work, and Bernir was not the only one here with such a limb. A small group of knights surrounded them, led by Sir Wischard, commander of the prosthetic-wielding troop. Roland was an important figure in Albrook, and when conducting official business beyond its borders, he needed to present himself accordingly.

Sir Wischard was the second strongest member of their organization. Roland had briefly considered bringing Armand and Lobelia as escorts, but their levels were too low for an area filled with tier three class holders above level two hundred. That left him with the knight troop he had built through his prosthetics. It had continued to grow, and several among them had surpassed level two hundred. They now served as his temporary guard.

“It would be better if you stopped calling me boss. For now, call me Master Wayland, at least until we return home.”

“Aye, I can do that, but do you really have to call me Master Bernir? It just sounds off…”

“Yes, I do. Now relax and let’s go. People are already looking our way.”

The adventurers glanced in their direction as they tried to assess the situation. It was rare to see nobles send troops here, and for this occasion, Roland had decided to make it clear that he was acting under Valerian banners. The crest of the noble family was displayed on the knights’ armor to show that they were guarding someone of importance. Even in a dungeon with its own rules, the Valerian household held a special position, and most would not dare challenge their knights.

‘Took me a few days to organize this. This had better work…’

There were two main reasons he had come here. One was to exchange knowledge with a fellow runesmith who seemed willing to bend the rules. The other was a potential prospect, someone that he could foster.

‘I can only give them a choice. The decision will be theirs in the end.’

As they walked, he glanced toward the main adventurers’ building. The group he had prevented from entering the ruins earlier had eventually made it back, but from what he had seen in the recordings from his golem cameras, their return had not been pleasant.

The group that had entered the ruins managed to retrieve something. He could not confirm what it was, as they had stored it in a spatial bag. Once outside, they nearly got into a confrontation with other adventurers, but managed to avoid it by taking a different route before anyone could catch up. This had likely been their plan from the start, and somehow, all of them had made it back safely just the other day.

‘They probably won’t sleep well for a while.’

Roland noticed that many more adventurers had gathered here, all clearly drawn by the treasure that had been brought out. Within the stronghold, they could do nothing, but it was obvious they were waiting for the group to leave so they could try to take it. While such actions were illegal, they were not uncommon in the dungeon.

‘I’m sure they already have a way to smuggle it out. It could be with anyone by now.’

The plan would probably be to smuggle the item out through another group or sell it within the stronghold to one of the rare merchants who came from outside. Those merchants were usually heavily guarded, as they hired many adventurers. The groups here were not tightly organized, so their numbers would be limited.

“Sir noble! Please look here! Are you perhaps looking for a place to stay?”

As they walked down the road, someone unexpected approached them. Most people were wary of addressing nobility, but this girl did not seem intimidated by their appearance. The knights closed ranks around him, but he raised a hand to stop them from reacting.

“A place to stay?”

He asked the girl, who turned out to be Millie.

“The best inn in this place, the Red Dragon Inn, of course!”

It was a strange sight, the young girl eagerly trying to promote the inn run by her mother. To Millie, he was a complete stranger now that his Siegfried disguise was gone.

“An inn? I could use a bite to eat… I mean, Master Wayland, haha.”

Bernir chimed in from the side, his belly grumbling softly. Although they had traveled through the teleportation gate hidden in the nearby forest, getting the knights and Bernir out of his small hideout had taken time, as Roland first had to disperse the poisonous mist and paralyzing spores.

“The Red Dragon Inn, you say?”

Millie straightened at once, clearly pleased that he had acknowledged it.

“Yes! The best food, clean beds, and fair prices! My mom runs it, and we don’t cheat our customers!”

She added the last part quickly, as if such accusations were common here. Bernir leaned in slightly as his stomach rumbled again. Ever since reaching tier three, his assistant had started eating more. It seemed that food replenished his soul energy faster without making him gain much weight.

“That sounds good, but unfortunately, we already have plans, young lady.”

Although Bernir was hungry, he knew Roland was here to meet Hasim and then leave. Still, this situation worked in Roland’s favor, as he had been wondering how to begin a conversation with Millie and her parents.

“The Red Dragon Inn… that name. Siegfried mentioned it before. Then you must be Millie.”

“Sir Knight knows Mister Siegfried?”

Roland nodded, and Millie’s expression softened into a more genuine smile.

“Indeed. He said you could guide me to this Master Hasim. I have come to meet the master runesmith.”

It felt strange speaking to Millie as if they were meeting for the first time. When he had been disguised as Siegfried, he used a voice-changing rune and spoke more slowly than usual to maintain the stoic persona.

“Mister Siegfried did?”

Roland nodded, watching the girl closely. He could still see her status and the unusual class she possessed. Her level had not increased at all, and it seemed less like she lacked effort and more like she simply could not progress easily.

“You… want to meet Uncle Hasim?”

“Uncle? Then you must know him quite well.”

“Ah…”

Mille covered her mouth as if she had said something rude. He was not quite sure why, but Hasim treated the girl and her family well. The chatter soon picked up again, and before long, he met the girl a second time and had her guide them to the Master Runesmith like before.

‘She does seem curious…’

Along the way, Millie could not help glancing his way and at the knights around them. She clearly noticed the strange limbs they were using. Some of the metal parts were exposed, and the main knight’s prosthetic eye glowed faintly. Eventually, they arrived at Hasim’s workshop, the same place he had visited before.

“Impressive golems.”

“They are, aren’t they? Wait here, sir. I’ll tell Uncle Hasim that you are here.”

Just like before, the high grade golems guarded the entrance but allowed Millie to pass. Roland remained outside, waiting as people began to stare. The longer they stood there, the more onlookers drifted closer, drawn by the functional artificial limbs the knights were using.

At this point, there was no need to hide them. No one would be able to recreate them without his research and the presence of a tower spirit. It was not something a runesmith could reproduce alone, and a rune mage would almost certainly be required. It was also something he could provide through Arion and the institute, expanding the runic prosthetics business and building a name for himself.

“Aye, what’re ye lot gawpin’ at? Ain’t there mithril waitin’ for the hammer, or have ye all gone soft and useless?”

Hasim’s voice boomed, and the craftsmen quickly stepped aside. As before, he appeared wearing a set of glasses that clearly served to analyze items or display status information. His gaze immediately settled on Bernir’s prosthetic hand, then moved across the other magical limbs the knights possessed.

“Tha’ there… tha’s no simple golem limb”

Even Hasim fell silent as he took in the sight. To lesser craftsmen, the limbs might not seem particularly remarkable, but their movement was far more refined than the standard models made by ordinary dwarven runesmiths.

“By the forefathersʼ beard… how’n the stone does it move like tha’? So smooth… not a hitch nor grind in it!”

“H-hey…”

Bernir tensed as the old dwarf lunged forward and grabbed his arm. Hasim leaned in close, his face nearly touching the metal as he examined the wrist joints and fingers reacting to his touch as if they were real.

His grip tightened around Bernir’s wrist, turning the hand this way and that with intense focus. The old dwarf’s usual demeanor vanished, replaced by the hungry gaze of someone completely captivated by new technology.

“Stop squirming, lad.”

“I… I wasn’t planning to…”

“Quiet, blast ye! Let an old smith think!”

Bernir froze instantly. The workshop, once filled with noise, fell eerily silent. Even the other dwarves lingering nearby did not dare interrupt. They all knew that look, and they were just as interested in the new magical limb before them.

“This joint… no drag, no catch o’ metal… not even a flicker o’ lag… How in the hell is it movin’? I see no guidin’ node… yet it acts lik’ it got a soul o’ its own…”

Roland was not surprised by the reaction. Runic limbs based on golems existed in this world, but they were quite rudimentary. Some people could move them by manipulating mana or through voice commands. Some could even predict what the user was trying to do and move on their own, but their failure rate was quite high. This limb, the one he had created, fully replaced a lost arm and moved without any lag, reading the very soul of the person using it.

“Master Hasim, I assume? Could you let go of my associate’s hand and invite us inside?”

It was clear he had caught the runesmith’s attention with this little display, but whether it would be enough to secure a deal remained to be seen. First, they needed to go somewhere private where no one would interrupt them.

Hasim did not respond immediately. His fingers were still wrapped tightly around Bernir’s wrist, thumbs pressing against the joint as if he expected it to reveal some hidden seam under enough pressure. For a moment, it seemed Roland would have to pry his hands off by force, but finally his words broke through.

“…Inside, ye say? Wait now, ye mean ye’re the one, eh?”

“Siegfried should have told you about me. I’m Wayland. Did you receive my letter?”

“A letter, was it? Ahh, tha’ wee bird… aye, I’ve seen it. So ye’re the smith what forged his armor… and this marvel too, eh?”

Roland simply nodded. The old man with the peg leg finally straightened up. He seemed slightly embarrassed by his behavior, though not for long.

“Oi! what’re ye all starin’ at? Back to yer anvils, the lot o’ ye. Metal won’t shape itself!”

Hasim took out his frustration on his workers, who instantly scrambled back to their stations. Hammers rang and bellows roared as if nothing had happened. Yet the stolen glances remained. Every dwarf in the workshop now knew that something extraordinary had just walked through their doors.

“Ahem…”

After clearing his throat and taking one last glance at Bernir’s arm, he finally beckoned Roland inside.

“Right then… let’s be headin’ inside, shall we?”

“Indeed.”

The interior of the workshop was much as Roland remembered. Just like before, he was led to the same room. This time, however, there was a small difference. The other runesmiths who had previously tried to examine his black armor were gone. Only Bernir and Hasim remained, along with two golems standing in the corner. The knights acting as his bodyguards were asked to leave, and at last the craftsmen had something to discuss.

“So then… what is it ye’re after from me, exactly?”

Hasim clearly knew Roland was not here for idle conversation. This was an exchange of information, and one that the old dwarf seemed to be losing. He had already shown his greed upon noticing the runic prosthesis, so Roland might not even need to play his other card, Bernir.

“Straight to the point. I like that. I’ll keep it short then. The schematics for your golems. Give them to me, and I’ll fix your eye and leg.”

“...”

Silence filled the room as Hasim let out a sigh.

“The golems, eh? Hah! O’ course ye’d set yer eyes on ’em… but I’m not so sure I’ll be partin’ with those for this alone. I’ve learned to walk fine with this leg o’ mine, and those golems ain’t trinkets to be traded for scraps an’ promises…”

The reply was not what Roland expected.

“And who d’ye think ye’re foolin’, lad? Tha’ arm o’ yers, no single smith makes somethin’ like that alone. Ye had rune mages at yer back, didn’t ye? I can smell it clear as forge smoke… reeks o’ a mage tower’s meddlin’. Don’t know how you humans run yer craft, but I don’t touch work I can’t command, nor fully understand.”

The old dwarf was perceptive. He quickly identified the heavy rune manipulation within the operating system. It was not something runesmiths usually handled, and within this dungeon there was no nearby mage tower or rune mage who could have assisted him. To make matters worse, he did not seem willing to seek such help, which was not unusual. Craftsmen at this level preferred to control every variable, and relying on a rune mage would only complicate matters.

Roland did not answer immediately. Instead, he took a slow step forward, his gaze steady behind the half mask.

“You are right.”

Hasim’s brow twitched.

“If you wished to recreate this limb, you would need help from rune mages. That is something I can provide.”

“Hah? Ye’ll provide me a rune mage, will ye now? An’ what else comes with that, eh? Ye got a portable tower spirit tucked in yer pocket? Or better yet, ye plannin’ to build a whole mage tower right here in me forge?”

Hasim started chuckling as if he had heard a good joke, but Roland did not react, as if this were something he could actually provide.

“That wasn’t exactly what I was planning, but if you provide the funds, I can offer you the technology for a miniaturized tower spirit that could handle the computational load needed for this runic prosthesis.”

“Hah! Thought as much…eh? What was that ye said?”

“Do you need me to repeat it?”

This was not Roland’s original plan, but it was still within his capabilities. Thanks to Sebastian, he had gathered enough data to recreate his systems elsewhere in a more compact form with reduced performance, yet sufficient to achieve similar results, only at a slower pace.

“…Ye’re not jokin’.”

“No.”

“That sort o’ thing… a ‘miniaturized tower spirit’… that ain’t some trinket ye pick up at a roadside stall, lad.”

“I’m aware.”

“…Fine then. Speak. I’m listenin’.”

Hasim was clearly skeptical about the claims, but after glancing at Bernir’s prosthetic hand, he could not help but believe at least part of it. Even so, he did not seem fully convinced.

“Still… me golems… they’re a craft passed down through me bloodline, generation on generation. I can’t just hand that over like spare nails…”

“Not convinced? If you need more, then perhaps this will help.”

Roland looked at Bernir, who was just standing there.

“…”

“…”

“Ah, was that the signal!?”

Finally, his assistant panicked and, with trembling hands, pulled out a small ornate dagger. At first, Hasim did not know what to make of it, but then his eyebrows twitched.

“…By the… what in the deep halls is this enchantment!?”

The man lunged at Bernir again, just as he had when he first saw the prosthetic hand, and this time it seemed he was truly hooked.