Chapter 185: Chapter 173: The Dwarven Royal Family
Compared to Teresa, Hobbit had a much deeper understanding of Wailing Gorge.
This treacherous canyon was like a natural floodgate, stretching between two continents and firmly controlling the vital sea route to the Northern Continent.
Any ship wishing to travel by sea to the Northern Continent had no choice but to face this natural barrier.
The entrance to Wailing Gorge was indeed perilous, but for a seasoned captain or navigator, safe passage was usually possible as long as they remained sufficiently cautious.
And Hobbit was an expert sailor, long tested by the wind and waves.
Before entering the Knight Academy, he had crossed these waters many times with his brother, Trevor.
While he couldn’t claim to know every single reef like the back of his hand, his familiarity with the key shipping lanes was more than reliable.
Therefore, when Roland proposed the plan to eliminate the pirates, the Half-Elf first dispatched a scout team without a second thought, then volunteered to join the operation himself.
Roland gladly accepted his offer.
Although his Awakened Sailing Skills gave him theoretical knowledge, his practical application was still a bit clumsy, and he lacked the kind of intuition Hobbit had honed amidst the wind and waves.
With this experienced Half-Elf’s help, the odds of successfully eliminating the pirates would undoubtedly increase significantly.
"It just means I’ll have to miss my classes again."
Hobbit scratched his messy, curly hair, his face a picture of conflict.
Seeing this, Roland laughed and ruffled his hair.
Unlike the rigid dogma of the Church Schools, the Knight Academy had always upheld the philosophy of "balancing sword and scholarship."
Therefore, with Roland’s guarantee, the academically gifted Half-Elf quickly received permission for leave from his tutor, Reggie.
Of course, this was also thanks to the exceptional talent Roland had recently displayed.
Had an ordinary student vouched for him, the strict tutor would never have relented so easily.
After finalizing the sailing arrangements for Wailing Gorge, Roland rushed to the Blacksmith Guild without a moment’s rest.
He couldn’t help but frown when he didn’t see Noel’s familiar figure at the front desk.
After all, during his time working at the Blacksmith Guild, this scrupulous Dwarf had never once abandoned his post, always performing his duties with the precision of a clockwork machine.
’Maybe something came up?’
Roland wondered to himself as he turned and walked toward Master Griffin’s workshop.
Before he even got close, a thunderous roar shook the hallway, making it buzz.
"Noel! The iron post in the Testing Field snapped in two, and you didn’t even know? Are you just for decoration, you administrator?"
"Master, I swear... According to Guild regulations, I left after sunset last night. All the equipment was perfectly fine then..."
"Then why don’t you tell me which bastard broke my iron post in half?"
"I... I really..."
Griffin’s furious roars echoed down the stone hallway. Even through a heavy oak door, Roland could imagine the old Dwarf’s face, flushed red and spraying spittle.
Upon hearing the words "the iron post in the Testing Field," a corner of Roland’s mouth twitched unnaturally.
No one knew better than him what had become of that iron post.
He was the one who had sliced the testing post, which was forged from scrap iron, in two with a single stroke while trying out his newly enchanted weapon yesterday.
As for why he hadn’t reported it immediately...
It wasn’t that he was trying to shirk responsibility.
The equipment in the Testing Field was meant for testing weapons, so damage was commonplace. It was simply a matter of paying for it.
Besides, the Guild was already empty when he finished up last night. He couldn’t even find anyone to report it to, which led to this misunderstanding.
With that thought, Roland gave the door a polite knock, but the sound was completely drowned out by the roaring. He had no choice but to ball his fist and pound three times—THUD! THUD! THUD!—with enough force to shake dust loose from the doorframe.
"What damned fool is bothering me now? Can’t you hear I’m busy?"
"It’s me, Master Griffin!"
Roland had to raise his voice to be heard over Griffin’s furious shouts from within.
"Roland?"
As his name was spoken, a brief silence fell over the room.
The next moment, heavy footsteps approached, and the door opened slowly to reveal a haggard-looking Noel.
The poor Dwarf was gently digging a stout finger into his ear, obviously shaken by the earlier shouting.
"Hello, Mr. Roland."
But even so, he maintained his graceful manners.
"Hello, Noel."
Roland gave Noel an apologetic glance and a slight nod, then walked straight inside.
A heavy stench of alcohol washed over him as he came to a stop before the ill-tempered Dwarf master.
"Master Griffin, I feel I must explain something..."
Roland gave a slight bow and spoke softly.
"The iron post in the Testing Field... I’m the one who accidentally damaged it yesterday while testing a newly forged weapon."
Hearing this, a flash of joy appeared in the eyes of Noel, who had followed him in, but he quickly shook his head.
Griffin’s reaction was far more direct.
The Dwarf Master Forger scoffed, put down his flask, and looked up at the young human before him.
"You? Kid! I’ll admit you have a knack for forging, but..."
The flask landed on the tabletop with a CLANG.
"I refuse to believe that anything you forged could sever that solid pillar of scrap iron!"
As he spoke, Griffin’s gaze swept back and forth between Roland and Noel. He spoke in a low rumble.
"Looks like you two are pretty close, eh? Ganging up to fool an old timer like me!"
"That’s because..."
Although the [Enchanter] ability granted by his Professional Panel was extremely powerful, this Profession hadn’t just appeared out of thin air.
Long before the first year of the Era of the End, ancient texts recorded weapon Enchantments, and the race most skilled in this art was none other than the Dwarves.
He had already intended to reveal his status as an [Enchanter] to Griffin to earn the master’s respect, and in doing so, gain access to rare materials beyond the reach of ordinary people.
But the fuming Griffin cut him off, roaring at Noel, who was standing to the side.
"What are you gawking at! Do I have to go investigate this myself?"
"I... I’ll go right away, Master Griffin..."
Noel shivered involuntarily, bowed his head in agreement, and hurried out.
As he passed Roland, he shot him a grateful glance.
Noticing the gratitude in the Dwarf’s eyes, Roland shook his head with a sense of resignation.
"Spit it out, kid! What do you want?"
Griffin tilted his head back and took another huge swig of liquor.
With a series of loud GULPS, the stocky Dwarf wiped the drink from his beard and asked in a rough voice.
"If you’re here to plead for that Noel kid... get the hell out before I decide to swing a fist at you!"
Hearing this, Roland decided not to press the issue of the iron post and simply spoke calmly.
"Master Griffin, I just wanted to ask... does the Blacksmith Guild have any way to acquire rare metals like Mithril or refined gold?"
"Ha! Mithril... and refined gold? You’ve got some nerve, kid!"
Griffin was about to make a few more sarcastic remarks, but considering Roland’s talent for forging and his status as Hawke’s apprentice, he managed to restrain himself and explain.
"Forget about here. Even in the northern Dwarf Realm, that stuff is absurdly rare!"
"Refined gold is a matter of pure luck. If you get incredibly lucky, kid, you might stumble across a few pieces. As for Mithril..."
His stout fingers tapped heavily on the wooden table, making a dull thudding sound.
"Even though it’s relatively more common in the Dwarf Realm, the mines are all held in a death grip by those damned Royal Families! And you’re just a regular member of the Guild..."
Griffin’s voice was dripping with scorn.
"Even if you were one of those snooty Master Forgers, you’d still have to bow and grovel, just to hope those sons-of-bitches in the Royal Family would deign to toss you a few crumbs!"
