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Chapter 175: Games (8)
🕑 Added 2025-04-03 03:23:35 +0000 UTCWorld: MSS - Loading...
***
The clip clop of the horse's hoof striking the cobblestone and the carriage’s gentle bounce was enough to lull me to sleep.
Almost.
“Lock, we’re here.”
“Mmm.” Wiping the drool off my mouth, I stared at Kyrian blankly.
“Lock?” Kyrian asked, confused.
“Oh, right.” Shaking my head, I somehow managed to summon up the effort and energy to get my thoughts in order. “Doror and the Dwarves. Right.”
“Mister, you alright?” Stole leaned in, peering at my face.
“I’m fine.” I waved her off. “Come on then.”
We got off at what was the equivalent of the Free Trader’s League’s downtown. Namely, the Docks.
True to the Free Trader’s League’s theme of being a port city, everything about the docks just screamed ‘busy.’ Dozens of sailors whose shoulder bands marked their allegiance to a merchant household walked by, each carrying multiple crates larger than was humanly possible. Still more sailors stood in the dark alleys, outside of the countless taverns, brothels and seedy joints; playing cards, throwing dice and exchanging coin.
“Stole.” I warned, seeing her hesitate.
“Hehehe, just wondering what they’re playing.” Stole smiled, eyes still glued to the card game.
She’d picked up some bad habits from Fluporuin’s sailors. Last I heard, they’d cleaned her out more than once. Most of them probably had some [Stat] related to gambling, on top of [Strength] stats to carry cargo. Adventurers on the other hand… Well, there’s a reason why adventurers get paid more.
‘I wonder if they started using Cores to lessen [Hunger] stats yet…’
I’m kind of proud of it. When I started exploring the ocean, I found Cores that increase [Strength] while reducing [Sleep] and [Hunger] stats. I fed those Cores exclusively to my sailors, making sure they could work around the clock. I even made a post about it and got a lot of comments on it.
Of course, I ended up getting flamed within the week. All because I forgot to mention that if you don’t make up for the lack of sleep and food with gold or other recreation, the sailors were likely to jump overboard or throw mutiny.
‘...Maybe it’s not the time to mention this to anyone yet.’
“This way.” Kyrian said, stepping in front of us.
Doror’s lodging was a simple tavern, blending in with the others of its kind in this neighborhood. If anything was of note, it was that there were a lot more non-sailor dwarves here than anywhere else. I could tell from the lack of a sailor’s bandana and facial scars. Instead their arms were solid with thick bulging muscles, trained from years of working the hammer and anvil.
The smell of sewage and fish grew weaker here, replaced by sweat and iron. This was the right place.
A familiar face grunted at us from the porch.
“Slaveborn.” Futir sat on a rocking chair, his hands folded over his bulging stomach. His one-horned viking hat hung off one of the armrests.
“Futir Stonehammer.” I greeted him.
“Lass.” He greeted Stole who shot him a quick smile. “...Magus… Kyrian.” As he greeted Kyrian, he bowed his head. Just a fraction of an inch, but it had been there.
Kyrian shot me a questioning glance, unsure of how to react to this. Last time Kyrian and Futir spoke, they’d been pretty hostile. Actually, Futir was pretty hostile to humans in general.
“Uh… hello, Smith Futir.” Kyrian coughed, not sure what to do. Times like this remind me of how awkward Kyrian is with the non-human races. Skaris and Stole were the only exceptions.
“Hmph.” He dismissed us, returning his attention across the street.
Following his gaze, I saw dwarven children playing some kind of ball game with other children. Beastmen, human, elven and if I saw correctly, even an orc with the signature pale white-skin of the Bada Horde. They were all laughing, kicking the ball and grabbing it; the tiniest of among them screaming in delight.
Doror’s grand daughter.
I caught Futir staring at me, his expression unreadable.
“...anks.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” I said to him.
“Bah, never you mind.” He said gruffly, waving a hand at me and the others. “Git on upstairs, Doror’s been up since yesterday waiting for you.”
No one stopped us on the way upstairs, though many of the dwarves gave us pats on the shoulder. Well, I think they meant to do it on the shoulder. Most of them ended up brushing our elbows, muttering ‘hellos’ and other greetings.
“Is it just me or they’re being super nice? It’s kind of scaring me.” Stole whispered.
“It’s to be expected.” I carefully avoided a few dwarven teenagers who came down the stairs. They nodded at me, tilting their chin up a little bit.
The moment they thought I was out of earshot, the talking began.
“That was Lock Slaveborn!”
“I know!”
“Screw being a Smith. I’m going to talk to my parents about becoming an adventurer.”
“Your mom would never let you.”
“Aye, but my old man might. Besides, it’s not like I have the hands for forging anyhow; might as well let my sister take over.”
The further we got up the stairs, the quieter their talking began. But I saw Stole still careening in that direction, unusually quiet.
“Not good to eavesdrop, Stole.”
She stuck her tongue out at me. “How come they never talk about me? It’s always Slaveborn this, Slaveborn that. And then sometimes Skaris.”
“Well, the next time the Akka Xaluds come at us,” Kyrian said dryly. “I reckon we can skip my turn and get to yours right away.”
I tuned out the bickering and knocked on the shoddy wooden door.
“Come in!” Said a gruff voice from the other side.
We walked into a warzone.
Scrap metal was strewn about everywhere and I was once again reminded of the mythical existence of bacteria in MSS. Sharp jagged edges stuck out at odd angles, creating a haphazard room that was more akin to a dungeon trap room than someone’s living quarters, least of all the Head of the Stonehammer Clan. Along with the metal were papers, filled with drawings and dwarven writing which I couldn’t make out on the best of my days, all gathered in one giant heap of genius insanity.
Doror stuck his head out from behind his bedpost. “Ah, there’s it was. Been looking for it for ages.” He reached out and grabbed what could only be MSS whiskey, and took a swig straight from the bottle.
“...Master Stonehammer.” Kyrian said, aghast. Of course, leave it to the Mage to be horrified at the mess in other people’s rooms.
I’ve seen Kyrian at work and it wasn’t much better than this. Mages are just the other side of coin of Smiths, in my opinion. In cleanliness, atleast.
Stole with her heightened senses actually grabbed her nose and gagged.
I took a sniff too, to make sure I smelled it correctly.
Beneath the scent of steel and (no other way to put it), an old man, there was the faint smell of vomit, piss, sweat and dirty socks. I hope it was dirty socks.
“I can’t.” Stole gagged again.
I was tempted to let her leave, but I considered this party responsibility. One day, she’d have to learn to deal with Doror herself. Maybe not Kyrian, but Stole? 100%. She looked at me with pleading eyes when I pretended I didn’t acknowledge her comment. I shook my head ‘no’.
She gagged again, leaning on the wall.
“Oung have mercy.” Stole moaned.
“Bah, ain’t that bad, Lass.” Doror grinned at me, his nose red like a christmas ornament.
Doror had mostly kept his wits about him on the barge, especially when having to interact with the other adventurers. If he hadn’t I would have asked him to hold back. Who knew what he could let slip when inebriated. Thankfully, his little drinking sessions with Fluporuin had been hardly enough to get the Master Smith drunk.
Seeing him like this reminded me of the first time I met him. Drunk and useless.
‘...Atleast he’s happy drunk, not going to kill myself and starve my granddaughter drunk.’ I sighed, carefully tip-toeing around the pieces of metal on the floor.
“Aye, careful, lad.” Doror commented, taking another swig. “I had to bring those back with me. Else, someone could look at them and learn my hammer swings. Aye, they could.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been smithing?”
“Smithing, forging, smelting, all sorts!” Doror said happily. Then he frowned, looking around. “Where’s the Lady Knight and the Lizard?”
“Pfft.” Kyrian stifled a laugh at the casual insult.
“They’re training.” I answered.
The two of them had been training like they were possessed. Endless bouts of sparring, followed by a long talk about what could’ve been better; what mistake the other made. Followed by more sparring. It was enough to gather a crowd and if I wasn’t mistaken, members from Borealis’ party were starting to join in.
“You bring his spear?” Doror said, narrowing his eyes.
“No.” I said.
“That fire-spitting, no-good, scale-brained lizard!” Doror roared all of a sudden. “I give him a spear, more than his life is worth, and did you see the way he treated it?”
“...He saved your life.” I said dryly.
“Aye, he did.” Doror admitted. “But we both know he’s good enough to do that without bending my spear.” He huffed, crossing his arms.
I actually thought the opposite. Doror had upgraded the damage, but he hadn’t accounted for Skaris’ fighting style. I’m of the opinion that the smith should take that into account when making the weapon. As I thought, he traded durability for damage.
‘Not what I would have chosen.’
Of course, I didn’t voice this to Doror.
“We just came to see if you were ok,” Kyrian started.
Doror peered at the mage then huffed. “Aye, it’s not the best. But it’s better than being stuck on that island.”
I noticed that his desk had been dragged next to the window, giving him a bird’s eye view of the street where the kids were playing.
“Good. Doror, I came here to talk to you about something.”
“...I reckon I know what it is you want to talk about.” Doror said, “But go ahead, Lad. You more than deserved my ear.”
I struggled a bit with how to say this, then shrugged. No other way but to forge ahead as usual. “On the boat, you said you wanted to come to Claw’s Nest.”
He snorted. “And?”
“That’s not possible.”
“Hmm.” Doror scratched his chin and let out a burp. “Fine.”
“Because, it’s too dangerous. I can’t dedicate manpower to, what?”
“I said it’s fine with me, Lad. Now, you brought the lass for new armor, didn’t ya? Well, bring her over here then.”
“Yes! My turn!” Stole hopped over gleefully, expertly dodging the debris on the floor.
Doror cleared room for her to stand and while Stole brought out her armor. He stroked his beard, measuring her and the armor and going back and forth. He stopped once in awhile and looking for something to write on. Not finding a blank sheet of paper, he began to scribble on the wall.
Kyrian settled down, picking up some of the scribbles and turning it this way and that. I remained standing, still not quite sure what had just transpired.
I had been ready to sit down for a long talk with Doror about Claw’s Nest. But he had accepted it, just like that. I’d even prepared a long speech, bouncing ideas off of Kyrian on the way here.
I felt my eyes narrow. Something was going on.
“Doror, what’s going-”
“Alright, is that all then?”
“That…” I looked to Kyrian for help. He just shrugged. “That’s it.” I said lamely.
Stole quickly packed up her things, leaving the majority of her armor with Doror and asking him for a couple of special bolts for her arbalest. He swore at her, calling her spoiled but didn’t say he wouldn’t make it. I kept looking at Doror, waiting to see if he would say anything.
“Lock, time.” Kyrian reminded me.
Right. We were in a hurry.
“...We’ll be back.” I said, “Before we leave for Claw’s Nest.”
“To pick up the armor, you mean.” Doror snorted.
“...Ok. We’re leaving then.”
He waved a hand without looking at us.
As the three of us turned to leave, he finally opened his mouth.
“Go on ahead to that little Auction, lad. See if any of those trash trinkets sell there.”
I froze.
I turned around, slowly. “...What?”
Kyrian sighed. “Oh no.”
Doror had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Aye. The Auction.”
“Go ahead, Lad. I won’t be stopping you… though I have to wonder as a Master Smith…” His grin got infuriatingly wide. “Just how many merchants would be interested in those second hand goods compared to the work of a Master Smith?”
Oh no.
Comments
GMP Zack
Yeah, I am not quite sure what the implication is. Does he want an invitation to the auction?
Draddock
Looks like Doror is going to blackmail Lock to go to the island anyway? With that last bit about the auction. Unless someone else has another interpretation?
