by Pirateaba
The Antinium had been instructed on some of the niceties of social conversation by the Horns of Hammerad. He demonstrated his learning in the subject now by grabbing his tankard and a half-eaten Ashfire Bee, standing up, walking over to where the Dwarf was seating, and sitting down across from him. The Dwarf looked up at the Antinium and stopped chewing.
“What?”
Ksmvr stared at the Dwarf intently. He raised one of his hands and waved it.
“Hello. I am Ksmvr.”
The Dwarf stared back at him. After a second he grunted and nodded.
“I’m Dawil. Of the Ironbreaker family.”
He took a long drink from his mug and eyed Ksmvr. After a second, Dawil spoke again.
“You’re one of them Ants, aren’t you? I thought you lot were all murderous killing machines without a thought between ye.”
“I am not. Although I appreciate the comparison.”
Ksmvr nodded happily. Dawil snorted and choked on his drink. He cast one eye around the room, taking in the half-Giant, Selphid, Drowned Man, Gnoll cub…when he returned to Ksmvr he shrugged, apparently resigned to the fact that an Antinium was talking to him.
“What’s that you’re eating? Some kind of bug?”
“It is an Ashfire Bee. Very tasty, especially with honey and butter. Would you like to try a bite?”
The Antinium nodded and lifted his plate so Dawil could see the bee. The Dwarf paused again, but the sight of the half-eaten bee didn’t seem to put him off his food either.
“I don’t eat bugs. Anyways. Isn’t eating one of them bugs like eating your own kind?”
“Is it?”
Ksmvr paused as he broke off a bee leg. He thought about this as he crunched it down.
“No. Is eating a cow or a rat cannibalism for Humans or Dwarves?”
“It’s disgusting is what it is. I don’t eat rats.”
“No bugs, no rats…this is very sad. I see you are a Dwarf. Do all Dwarves not eat good food?”
Dawil snorted.
“Not unless we’re starving to death we don’t! I’d rather eat my beard than chew on insects like some half-Elf living in the forest.”
He shot that at Falene. The half-Elf raised her eyebrows.
“I don’t eat bugs, Dawil. That’s a stereotype about half-Elves. Hardly any of us resort to that.”
All of the Horns of Hammerad immediately looked at Ceria. The half-Elf [Cryomancer] coughed and looked the other way. Dawil laughed loudly and then broke off as something buzzed his way. He swatted at it and Apista flew away from his mug. The Dwarf stared at the insect with a mixture of horror and incredulity and then stared at Ksmvr. He pointed at Apista.
“Isn’t that a bee as well? Why is that thing flying around?”
“It is a pet of Lyonette. She works here. It is called Apista and I think, very tasty. But she is off limits for consumption.”
Ksmvr stared as Apista flew away from their table with his mandibles slightly parted in longing. Apista was noticeably larger than the Ashfire Bee that Ksmvr was eating. Dawil stared at Ksmvr.
“A pet? By my beard…and you’re eating one of its kind right in front of it?”
Ksmvr stared at Apista. He slowly raised the bee to his mouth and crunched off another part.
“Yes. That is what I am doing.”
Over her time with Apista in the inn, Erin had noticed that while the Ashfire Bee would hover around sweet drinks and food when they weren’t being attended, it would never go within arm’s length of Ksmvr or any of the Antinium. Now the bee flew after Mrsha. The Gnoll was being carried upstairs by Lyonette, visibly upset and cranky after eating so much cake. Dawil watched the bee go with some relief and turned back to Ksmvr.
“This is one hell of an inn. I’ve been to magical taverns in First Landing and Invrisil and they’re boring compared to this inn. This [Innkeeper] girl—she just lets Goblins and Ants eat here and doesn’t worry about being killed in her sleep?”
“Oh no. Miss Erin is very good at killing things. And she employs one of my kind. His name is Bird and he lives on the roof. By the way, I have never met a Dwarf. Are you happy, being a Dwarf? Is there a special racial advantage to being a Dwarf or are you relatively useless like Humans?”
“Hey!”
Erin had to come over at that. She took a seat at the table and smiled at Dawil. He eyed her, probably wondering about Ksmvr’s endorsement of her killing prowess. Erin smiled at Dawil, hesitated, and blurted out the first thing on her mind.
“You’re tall.”
The Dwarf blinked. Ksmvr tilted his head. Erin blushed.
“I mean—sorry, but I’ve never met a Dwarf either! And I didn’t expect you to be so, so…”
Tall. For a Dwarf, that was. Dawil grunted and sat up straight. He was a few inches over five feet in height, which was short for a Human, but far taller than Erin would have expected of a Dwarf. And he seemed amused by Erin’s interest.
“Hah! Not met many Dwarves, have you, girl? Oh wait. You said. Well, I’m a pure Dwarf, don’t you worry on that account! Pure as any Dwarf living, which I’ll grant isn’t what it used to be.”
He rumbled to himself as he took a huge spoonful of ground beef and potatoes and shoved it into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and then went on.
“Y’see, I’ve got a bit of Human blood in me. My great, great, great grandma, she was Human, and so was my great, great, great, great, great, great…uh, grampa. ‘Course, my Dwarf side’s too strong to let a bit of Human dilute my true ancestry, but over the years it mixes with our blood. Almost every Dwarf is a bit taller because of that. Not like how we used to be—short and yay-high!”
He gestured, indicating a height around four feet high. Erin nodded.
“That’s cool. Mixed heritage, I get that. I’m one hundred percent Human. My name’s Erin, by the way.”
“Right I heard. Got ears, don’t I? And I already told the Antinium bugger my name. I’m not wearing it out.”
The Dwarf took another huge bite. He wasn’t rude—well, he was—but Erin wasn’t offended by it. He had a rather likable, straightforward personality in fact. Erin grinned at him.
“So you’re an adventurer in the Silver Swords?”
Dawil eyed her as he reached for his mug.
“Do you state the obvious all the time, lass? ‘Course I am! Hey, you don’t have anything stronger here, do you? I feel like I’m drinking water!”
“I have actual water if you want it—”
“Hah!”
“Okay then, how does Firebreath Whiskey sound? It’s the only strong stuff I have in stock right now. But it tastes like someone poured habaneros into a sock and mixed it with mouthwash.”
“Ah! A proper drink!”
Dawil brightened. He drained his mug in one go which impressed both Ksmvr and Erin and waved a hand at Ishkr.
“Firebreath Whiskey over here! Give me a full mug and another plate of the potatoes and meat!”
“One for me as well.”
Erin turned as Ksmvr tried to imitate Dawil and nearly drowned from his own mug. Ilvriss was sitting upright, looking annoyed at the lack of company and morose again. Erin intercepted Ishkr before he could deliver the Drake a drink.
“What’s the meaning of this?”
Ilvriss growled at Erin. She put her hands on her hips.
“No Firebreath Whiskey for you, Mister. You came here drunk and you had an entire mug of the stuff earlier. I’m cutting you off.”
The Lord of the Wall narrowed his eyes.
“You can’t cut me off. I am a Lord of the Wall!”
“Too bad. You can have this drink instead if you want. It’s a specialty of the inn. Faerie Flower ale. Here, try it. It makes you feel better. Or worse.”
Erin presented Ilvriss with the special mug she’d made. The Drake took one look at the drink and turned his head away.
“Ridiculous. I won’t settle for an inferior Human drink. If you refuse to serve me, I’m leaving. I have better places
to be anyways—”
He moved to rise unsteadily. Erin barred his way and shoved the drink into his face.
“Try it. Come on. You tried the cake.”
“That was different. Wait, is this like the cake?”
Ilvriss eyed the mug again. The Faerie Flower ale was indistinguishable from regular ale…pretty much because it was. The only addition was three drops of the special faerie flower nectar Erin had added. She smiled encouragingly.
“You won’t know unless you try it.”
The Drake hesitated. He took the mug, grumbled about substandard alcohol, and took a gulp. His expression soured, and he was about to shove it back at Erin when his eyes widened. Erin took a few steps back as Ilvriss slowly sat back down.
“And now we wait.”
She muttered to herself as she walked back to Dawil’s table. Erin hadn’t forgotten Ilvriss’ grief when talking about Periss. She only hoped the drink could do for him what it had for Halrac the first time the [Scout] had tried it.
“Oh, Halrac.”
Erin had to pause and close her eyes for a second. The [Scout] hadn’t shown his face in the inn since the night Ulrien had been cremated. But she could only take a moment of her time to think of him. At the table, Dawil was arguing with Ksmvr.
“What? Battle tactics? Strategic maneuvers? What do you think our group is? We’re adventurers! We charge in and sort things out afterwards. I hit things with my hammer, Ylawes hits things with his sword, and Falene twiddles her fingers and shoots sparks at monsters while she hides behinds our backs. It’s a sound strategy!”
“It sounds like the exact opposite of strategy.”
“Which is why it works! Now, what are you—Silver-rank? Dead gods, I didn’t think there were Antinium adventurers. Well, never mind. What you do is, when you see a monster you run at it. Screaming.”
“Screaming?”
“Yeah. A good old war cry. Then you hit it. Use a Skill if it’s big, and if it’s really big go for the kneecaps. That always works.”
“What if it is a giant slime? Giant slimes do not have kneecaps. I point this out not as an attempt to be confrontational, but merely to question—”
“Slimes? What are you doing fighting slimes? That’s when you get a [Mage] to handle the job!”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said! Remind me!”
“Kneecaps—”
“Well, if they had them, it would be a viable strategy!”
It was like watching a comedy duo in action, even better than when Pisces and Ksmvr did it. Erin hated to break up the fun, but she had to. She cleared her throat as she slid back into her seat. Dawil and Ksmvr looked at her expectantly.
“Sorry, but I had a thought. You’re the first Dwarf I’ve ever met, Dawil. I mean, I’ve seen half-Dwarves, but you’re the only full Dwarf I’ve ever seen.”
“Not surprising. My kind live mainly on Terandria and we don’t like travel. Too much water and boats get us seasick.”
The Dwarf shuddered as he reached for a second plate of steaming shepherd’s pie. He had an incredible appetite, but then, he was very muscular and stocky. Erin smiled.
“Well, yeah. But I was thinking…I have this coin you see. It’s well, sort of a mystery and no one can tell me what metal it’s made of. I was wondering…”
The Dwarf paused as she fished out the special coin she’d received. He eyed it, and then glared at Erin.
“What, do you think I know about metals just because I’m a Dwarf?”
He looked mildly outraged. Erin waved her hands frantically.
“Oh, no! No, it’s just—well, yes, actually. Sorry. I just thought that since you’re a Dwarf and uh…if you don’t know, that’s fine. But no one else I’ve talked to has a clue, so…”
The Dwarf grumbled into his beard, but then stuck out a hand.
“Alright, give it here then. Not like I’m a [Forgemaster], but I reckon I know a bit more than any Human or Drake [Blacksmith]…”
“Ooh. I probably should have asked one of them to look at it. Right. Oops.”
Dawil snorted as Erin handed him the coin. It flashed in the firelight as he held it up, not quite silver but pale, reflective. Ksmvr stared at it and the Dwarf grunted, his expression of annoyance growing more intrigued.
“Hold on, that’s not an alloy of silver…it’s got no silver in it in fact. And it’s no alloy. Wait a second…hey, innkeeper! Where’d you get this?”
Erin shrugged self-consciously as Dawil stared at her.
“Um…one of my guests gave it to me as payment. I mean, it was sort of a gift, not proper payment. Why? Is it worth a lot?”
The Dwarf grunted.
“Depends on how you look at it. It’s either priceless or worthless. You see, this metal’s not silver, gold, or any of your common metals like that. It’s pure mithril, or close enough.”
“Mithril?”
Erin’s raised voice made every head in the room shoot up. Quick as a flash, Jelaqua was at their table.
“Hey, did someone say mithril and Dwarf in the same sentence? I could really use a new flail and armor—”
“Back off, Selphid! No one’s forging you lot anything! I just said this thing’s mithril—no need to get worked up about it! Yes, this is mithril. So what?”
Dawil cleared his throat, realizing he had an audience. Seborn, Jelaqua, and an interested Ishkr were hovering around the table. He handed the coin back to Erin and she held it as if it were magic. Which it might be. The Dwarf was less impressed, though.
“What are you waiting for? The coin to start floating in midair? It’s mithril, I told you! It’s just a metal.”
“But it’s—I mean, its mithril!”
Images of mithril chainmail and magical artifacts were spinning around Erin’s head. Dawil shook his own head sadly.
“Pah. It’s just a bit. You couldn’t make anything out of it—not that I’d want to try. That’s why I said it’s worthless or priceless. Sure, it’s rare to find a coin made purely out of the stuff—I can’t think of how old it must be—but who’s going to want something like that? It’s got no real value except as a collector’s item.”
He was too casual about the coin. Erin held it, trying to feel something out of the metal. All she felt was a bit of stickiness from where some drink had landed on it.
“Still, I mean—shouldn’t it glow or something?”
“It might. Buff it up a bit and it could look better. The coin’s covered in dust and the outer layer’s bonded with enough crap over the centuries. Scrape at it and it might look better.”
Dawil conceded grudgingly. He looked at Jelaqua.
“What’re you looking at, Selphid?”
“You wouldn’t happen to be a [Blacksmith] as well as a warrior, by any chance?”
She looked at him hopefully. Dawil guffawed in her face.
“Me? Do I look like I enjoy sweating in front of a forge fire? Count me out!”
“It’s just that I really would like better gear. I have this flail you see—by the way, I’m Jelaqua Ivirith, leader of the Halfseekers—”
“Oh, I’ve heard of you. Dawil of the Ironbreaker Clan.”
“—right, pleased, and I’d really love some better gear. Seborn’s got enchanted daggers, but no one makes enchanted flails. And I’ve heard that you can get Dwarf-made weapons for cheap. I was told mithril might be a good buy…”
The Dwarf shook his head as Erin sat at the table, polishing her coin with a tankard of water. It didn’t seem to work. She scrubbed hard but concluded she might actually need to scrape at it with a knife or something. That wouldn’t hurt the mithril, right? Or the faint engravings? It was supposed to be hard stuff. Erin went to look for a butter knife. Meanwhile, Dawil was beginning to argue with Jelaqua about weapons.
“Mithril? It’s things like this that make me regret ever leaving home! Every two-bit adventurer comes up to me asking for a magical blade—do I look like I carry a forge around on my back? An
d aren’t you lot an experienced Gold-rank team? What are you asking me about weapons for? We’re a new Gold-rank team.”
“Sorry. But it’s just that we don’t meet many Dwarves, and you hear rumors. So mithril weapons…?”
“Eh. Steel’s just as good.”
“What? Aw, come on!”
The other adventurers looked at Erin. She was heartbroken, as if Dawil had just punched her in the stomach. She looked so downcast that the Dwarf had to explain.
“It’s just like you beardless lot to think one metal’s best! Mithril? Hah! If you want lightweight armor, sure, use a mithril alloy. But making plate armor out of the stuff? Do you know what that would cost? Plus, mithril’s not all it’s worked up to be. Sure, it’s stronger than steel, but it’s too malleable—you need to cut it with a stronger alloy. Then of course it’s better than regular steel, but for the cost—and forget about putting it in a weapon!”
“Well, if it’s the cost—”
Jelaqua began but Dawil talked over her.
“Not just cost! Unless you’ve got the sharpest blade in existence, you’ll have no weight behind your blows! Mithril’s not worth its weight in gold! Now, a composite metal made by a master is more preferable.”
“Okay, but what kind—”
“Oh, you’ll hear the words ‘adamantium’ and ‘orichalcum’ and ‘star metal’ and so on thrown around a lot, but that’s all rock crap. Real [Blacksmiths] who aren’t trying to take your money will tell you that pure metals are useless on their own. What you want to be asking is what level of refinement they’ve achieved and then asking what kind of alloys they’ll be making with said rare metals. Eh…how much they have on hand is also a good idea. It’s rare stuff and you don’t want to be waiting months for a shipment to arrive.”
Erin saw Jelaqua open her mouth, but the Selphid couldn’t get a word in edge-wise. The Dwarf kept going, as unstoppable as an avalanche. She realized that she might have opened a door she couldn’t close and resigned herself to listening as Dawil went on.
“If they tell you they can work in an adamantium alloy into your armor, well, they’re either lying or Level 50, because let me tell you, I can count the number of times I’ve seen anything with adamantium in it, and I grew up seeing the Old Elders about, and they can forge anything in the world. Not that you’d know it to look at them. Hah, real Dwarven smithing today is all about quality and efficiency. Take Dwarven steel for example. Good stuff will do you just as well as a fancy artifact, and let me tell you, if you want to order well, all you need to do is—”
