The City of Orient was bustling with people, as the chattering from the streets almost drowned out nature.
It was lunchti for most of them, and they were going back to their hos or just eating sothing out.
The shops were busy with traffic, and custors were flooding in.
But at the very end of this marketplace was a rather unassuming shop.
"Uhh...!" He uttered, wondering if his ears had failed him.
Previously, he had gone around and asked for the best smithy in the city, and all of them had pointed to just a single shop.
Fairbury Smithy, which was located at the very end of the marketplace.
But why was the shop so barren?
And why was the building just a single-storied, wooden box of planks?
He peeked inside, only to be surprised once again.
There were no weapons or ornants inside.
Was he really at the right shop?
He looked at the sign on the top.
[Fairbury Smithy- led by master craftsn and blacksmiths.]
’Don’t judge a book by its cover, was it?’ He pondered, and after much thinking, he decided to step inside.
"Is anyone here?"
Raven shouted, feeling a bit warm inside.
The shop literally had nothing but planks all around.
Not even a single weapon.
"Hello?" He called out again.
But again, nothing.
It was silent inside.
Ugh!
It was hot inside, making him uncomfortable.
’This might just be the most elaborate plan I have stumbled upon for a while.’
Again, a massive waste of ti.
He thought, as he began to leave the premises, when suddenly,
Creak!
Sothing caught his eye.
A wooden trapdoor was opening from beneath.
’I didn’t even notice that.’
He wondered, curious about this.
"Urgh! What bastard is shouting first thing in the morning?"
A man of short stature and a bulky body ca from beneath.
Raven was shocked.
It was his first ti seeing such a person.
Ever since he transmigrated here, in a fantasy world, he always wanted to et at least one person from another species.
And here it was.
The mont.
It was a dwarf.
Short height, barely reaching his chest, paired with a muscular physique.
His hair was tied in a ponytail, and he was very lightly clothed.
Just a single sleeveless tank top and underwear.
Rather inappropriate, but he didn’t mind it at all, given this level of heat inside.
His eyes sparkled in excitent.
But he held back from asking dumb questions, as he was an adult himself.
"I was, Mr. Blacksmith."
"Just call Ola, you twat."
’Wow!’
He was even grumpy and foul-mouthed, like the books ntioned.
"Alright, Mr. Ola, I want to buy sothing."
"I build nothing that a stick-like, princess as you can hold," He shouted, "You can leave."
’Geez, this guy should consider changing careers and try roast battles.’ He was gobsmacked.
His gobs were smacked.
This was another level.
But he still didn’t mind it.
Years of nagging and slanders from his boss, combined with the experience in the ga, Fall of Booty, have moulded him into the man he is now.
A thick-skinned bonehead.
"It’s exactly why I ca to you, Mr. Ola." He said, "I need a shoulder guard."
"That’s it?" Mr. Ola grumbled.
Was this why he disturbed his beauty sleep?
"Made up of Crysalon, that is." He dropped the bombshell imdiately after.
"Crysalon?" He asked, finally taking him seriously.
"It’s not even that impressive, kiddo," He advised while scrutinizing his choice, "There are stronger materials for that stupid price range."
"It would also be a fashion statent, Mr. Ola," He added, knowing full well this guy would crash out again.
And he was right.
"Do you like n perchance?" He asked, glaring at him.
Raven decided to double down on this bit.
He leaned closer, his hand moving forward.
"I don’t know." His voice was softer than usual, "You tell ."
The dwarf backed down a few steps in quick succession.
"Get away from , you freak." He said, his voice freaking out.
"Then, why don’t you just make what I am asking for?" Raven’s voice went back to normal again.
"..."
"..."
The dwarf finally understood and went silent.
A silence ensued, weighing heavily on Mr. Ola.
"A- Alright," He stuttered, "Follow ."
Raven nodded smugly. "I will."
Mr. Ola opened the trapdoor again and began descending down a tallic staircase with wooden planks up top.
So, the main workshop was below the surface?
Now it made sense why the building was so small.
Raven guessed the tallic part was there for structure and the wooden planks to insulate them from the scorching heat.
At least this world has this many basics down.
Thud! Thud!
As they descended the stairs, the level of heat climbed up several notches.
It was almost unbearable for a normal human being.
Thankfully, Raven’s body was a bit more resistant to heat than normal.
Whoa!
He gasped internally as a massive burning forge ca into his vision.
It was like a dragon’s mouth, spewing fire like nothing he had ever seen.
The fire was continuously burning, and even had blue freckles rising seldom from the yellow-white flas.
And despite it being nearly 20 ters away, it still was scorching.
"You won’t die here, would you, gay lad?"
Raven glared at him, inching closer to intimidate him.
"I m- an, golden-eyed lad."
He picked the most highlighted part of his body.
"Don’t worry about , Mr. Ola, I can handle this heat." He was smiling, but it was nowhere near positive to a real one.
"Good," He nodded, "I can’t have another custor die on anymore."
Another?
Raven looked at the dwarf with scorn.
This question he had just asked, it ca from a personal experience, huh?
He definitely scorched so human before.
"Alright, take a seat there, and strip your tunic." He ordered, grabbing a asuring tape from his waist, when suddenly, it clicked to him.
"I an-" He looked up, and it was too late already.
The human had a cheeky grin on his face, gleeful over this slip of his tongue.
"I get it, naughty geezer, keep doing your work."
"Don’t call that, you brat."
"Geezer?"
"No- Ugghhh!" He groaned in frustration. "Just stay quiet for a second."
Heh!
Mr. Ola grumpily approached him and took the asurents of the shoulder Raven pointed to.
After that, he noted the digits down and spoke, "Alright, let’s talk about the cost."
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