VOLUME 14: CHAPTER 8

Considering Gorovir's status as the Dwarven Kingdom's greatest blacksmith, Lark expected his workshop to be similar in scale to the Fifth Weapons Factory.

But to his surprise, the Divine Blacksmith's workshop was no larger than a tavern.

The building was carved out of a single, giant stone, with small holes here and there that served as windows. From here, they could see black smoke billowing from the roof and hear the sound of hammers striking the anvil.

The workshop looked so ordinary – shabby even – that Lark would have missed if not for the map given to them by King Lerenon.

Based on what Lark had heard, Gorovir didn't employ workers. Instead, he took in four disciples who assisted him with his projects.

It was well known that the Divine Blacksmith hated mingling with people. Despite receiving hundreds of applications each year from aspiring blacksmiths, Gorovir rejected all of them, saying he had no intentions of taking in more than four dwarves to train.

He even refused those who offered to work for him for free. Most blacksmiths were willing to slave away at the Divine Blacksmith's workshop without pay to get a glimpse of the legendary blacksmith's skills.

"Your Majesty, King Lark!"

The moment Gorovir learned of Lark's arrival, he immediately ran out of his workshop. They even heard loud clangs, as though Gorovir tossed away whatever he was working on just to greet Lark as soon as possible.

This reception was a stark contrast to how Lark's group was treated by those working in the Fifth Weapons Factory.

"Huff… Huff…."

Although the distance he ran was short, Gorovir was huffing, beads of sweat flowing down his forehead. Like a puppy reunited with its owner after a week, Gorovir's eyes were twinkling. The Divine Blacksmith was panting not from exhaustion but excitement.

"Your Majesty! I've been looking forward to this visit! Finally, you're here!"

The Divine Blacksmith's shout was filled with so much passion that Lark almost took a step back in reflex.

Behind him, Lark heard Blackie mutter, "Is he a dog? He's even salivating, it grosses me out."

Lady Alice wryly smiled. She thought that Blackie and the Divine Blacksmith held semblance to how they greeted Lark, but she didn't voice her thoughts out loud.

Captain Symon, who accompanied them this time as well, simply stood there in complete silence.

"Gorovir, I hope I didn't disturb you during an important time," said Lark.

"No, not at all!" said Gorovir. "I've been looking forward to this day ever since I got my hands on the blueprint!"

Hearing their master's unusually enthusiastic voice, Gorovir's disciples came out of the workshop.

When they saw their master's expression, they stopped in their tracks, stunned by what they saw. They'd been learning under him for decades now, and this was their first time seeing the Divine Blacksmith make such a face.

They couldn't believe their fearless and stoic master could make such an expression.

How should they describe it?

His emotions were overflowing. He looked so incredibly excited that his emotions were palpable even from here.

If their master had a tail, it would be wagging right now. If he became even more unhindered, he would probably jump around and roll on the ground out of euphoria.

"…Master?" said the eldest disciple.

"Foolish apprentices!" roared Gorovir. "What are you doing? Quicky, show your respect! His Majesty, King Lark, has personally come to visit!"

The disciples knew their master didn't like bowing even to the Dragons protecting the Dwarven Kingdom. They never expected him to exalt someone to such an extent. Judging by his voice, it was closer to worship than respect.

"W-We greet His Majesty, King Lark!"

"W-We greet His Majesty, King Lark!"

One after another, the Divine Blacksmith's disciples lowered their heads and greeted Lark. Although reluctant to bow their heads to a mere human, they did it anyway as their master ordered it.

The youngest disciple of Gorovir said in a soft voice, "Master… is he…?"

"That's right," said Gorovir. "He's the person who created those blueprints. Now, do you understand? He's someone more important than those overgrown lizards who call themselves the Great Guardian Deities of the Dwarven Kingdom."

For the dwarves who worshipped the Dragons, it was a blasphemous statement.

Hearing those words, the disciples of Gorovir shuddered. They looked around, afraid that someone nearby had heard it. After confirming that no other dwarves were around, they looked fearfully at Lark's group, terrified that the humans would report this incident to the Dragons.

No matter the rank, no one would be able to escape the Dragons' wrath. Those creatures were so powerful that their words were the law. Even their master would be no exemption from any punishment if the Dragons learned about this incident.

While the disciples were lost in the terror of their thoughts, Blackie spoke.

"Hoh? Dwarf, I'm starting to like you," said the first head.

"Kakaka! I agree!" laughed the sixth head. "That's right! This person before you is someone more important than those overgrown lizards!"

"Guardian Deities? Bah! They're nothing but leeching parasites that suck this kingdom dry!" added the fifth head.

The third head stroked his beard as he nodded in agreement. The fourth head yawn and didn't say a word.

The seventh head said, "Kekeke! Leeching parasites. Rolls off the tongue just fine. A perfect description for those fools, right?"

One after another, insults were hurled toward the Dragons. The disciples of the Divine Blacksmith didn't even know whether to get angry, cry, or be terrified.

What were they doing?

Why were these old men adding fuel to the fire?!

"What a breath of fresh air," said Gorovir happily. "I'm glad to finally meet someone of the same opinion. It's honestly repulsive how my fellow dwarves revered the Dragons."

"You are smart, dwarf," said the second head. "How about becoming the king of this kingdom instead?"

The fourth head sleepily said, "Compared to the royal family who keeps licking the nasty feet of those lizards whenever they could, you're not as stupid. This kingdom would be better off with you as its ruler."

When the conversation shifted to talks about treason, the disciples of the Divine Blacksmith nearly fainted.

Gorovir shook his head. "I must decline. Although I do not like the Dragons, I acknowledge their role in the protection of this kingdom. I would be lying if I say I'm not grateful to them in that regard. Moreover, I do not have the ability to lead this kingdom in the proper direction. I'd rather stay in the smithy, away from the prying eyes of other people."

"Tch. What a waste," said the first head.

"But… I wonder why the other dwarves are worshiping those lizards in the first place," spat the seventh head.

After the talks about treason and the blasphemous remarks about the Dragons died down, the disciples of Gorovir inwardly sighed in relief. They already knew that their master had an eccentric personality, but they didn't expect him to be so open to another nation's delegates like this.

Over the decades, the disciples of the Divine Blacksmith had been influenced by their master's thoughts. They, too, didn't like the Dragons. But unlike their master, the disciples would never openly admit it. They were too afraid of the repercussions.

"Ah, I've kept you waiting," said Gorovir. "Your Majesty, King Lark, everyone. Please come inside."

"Thank you, Gorovir," said Lark.

With the Divine Blacksmith at the lead, Lark's group entered the workshop.

The interior was a mess. There were numerous scrap piles here and there, and they could see discarded swords lying on the floor near the furnace.

Maybe because the entire building was carved out of stone, it was suffocatingly hot inside.

Like your typical forge, there were anvils, tongs, mandrels, hardies, punches, fullers, flatters, swage blocks, and hammers. There were also barrels haphazardly filled with failed creations, mainly weapons.

Near the furnace, Lark saw a clump of ore sitting on a steel plate. It was a clump of unprocessed adamantite, a hefty amount at that.

Lark came here for two reasons. First, he was curious to see what the workshop of the greatest blacksmith in the entire Dwarven Kingdom was like. Second, he wanted to check for himself if the blacksmith really had the capability to create the items in the blueprints he'd given him.

Seeing the disappointing state of the workshop, Lark didn't hesitate to ask the question on his mind.

"Gorovir," said Lark.

"Your Majesty?"

"This place is a mess," said Lark. "Are you really capable of creating the items in the blueprints?"

Gorovir's gaze moved to the failed creations scattered throughout the workshop. It was amazing that their limbs were still intact, considering the number of bladed weapons lying on the ground.

"I'm ashamed," said Gorovir. But this is how I've been taught by my late master, and this is how I intend to pass on my knowledge to my disciples."

Gorovir explained that although the place was a mess, it did not indicate his ability to create the items in the blueprints. According to him, they would frequently get into a trance while hammering away, forgetting anything and everything around them. They'd been trained to discard any and all failed creations on the spot without hesitation, resulting in this messy workshop.

"Blacksmiths like us consider our creations as our kids," said Gorovir. "But as blacksmiths, we must be cruel parents to our children. When we realize that our creation is a failure, although painful, we must discard it immediately. It is only through such a mentality we can pursue perfection. A million hammer strikes, a hundred creations, a single perfect weapon. The art of forging weapons involves not only skills, effort, and dedication. Your Majesty, it also involves trial and error."

It was a satisfactory answer. But Lark still had several questions he wished answered.

"Gorovir, you've seen the blueprint of the floating castle," said Lark.

"I've read it a hundred times by now, Your Majesty," said Gorovir.

Honestly, Gorovir found it odd that Lark was calling it a floating castle. Rather than a fortress or a castle, it was a flying city just by sheer size alone. Calling it that would be more appropriate, Gorovir thought.

"Then, let me ask you," said Lark. "I can provide you with enough elven oaks to create the floating castle, but how do you plan on creating it in such a small workshop, with so few men?"

Gorovir seemed to have already thought of an answer in the event this question came up. He readily answered, "Through the years, I've refused to take in more disciples or workers, Your Majesty. But after meeting you and seeing the blueprints, I've decided to open the doors of the smithy."

Gorovir looked up, his lips curling into a sad smile. "I've been using this workshop since I've been young. But starting next week, we'll be moving to the workshop that King Lerenon had been offering to me ever since I earned the title of the Divine Blacksmith."

Lark knew the implications of this.

After accepting the workshop, Gorovir would end up becoming indebted to the royal family. Although he disliked mingling with other people, he would be forced in the future to cater to their demands in order to return the favor.

He was even willing to go as far as take in more disciples and workers just to fulfill this project. Lark was amazed at his dedication.

"The workshop is be located on the kingdom's outskirts. It's dozens of times larger than this one, and the space outside should be enough to create the base platform of the flying castle," said Gorovir. "I also plan on recruiting a thousand workers and ten more disciples for this project. Do not worry, Your Majesty. As long as you provide us with the necessary materials, we'll complete it in due time. I will also personally handle the creation of the core engine. As for the defensive towers, I will seek the help of my engineer friends. They'd retired already, but I'm sure they would come if I called them."

"I see," said Lark, nodding. "Regarding the payment—"

"—I don't need it. Also, King Lerenon already promised to shoulder all the expenses of the workers I'll be hiring for this project."

"But…"

"Your Majesty, although I look like this, I am the Divine Blacksmith. Dwarves will flock to my workshop the moment I declare my intentions of hiring workers and disciples. The skills they will acquire from watching me is worth more than any gold. And this may sound childish, but creating a flying fortress has been my lifelong dream."

The Divine Blacksmith said that without Lark, his dream of creating a castle capable of flying in the sky would still be a dream even now.

Although he had the skills to create it, the Divine Blacksmith didn't have any way of procuring the necessary materials. He was so desperate that he even planned on delving into the Poison Insect Paradise, despite the risks, in order to harvest enough elven oaks to create the base platform.

But after Lark appeared, he no longer had to wager with his life to obtain the necessary materials for the floating castle.

"And regarding the body reconstruction. The adamantite bones and mithril-reinforced muscles," said Gorovir. "Can I assume that it will be done on Your Majesty's body?"

Lark nodded. "That's correct."

After diligently training nearly every day, Lark's body had nearly reached its limit. Although the blood of the Marcuses ran in his veins, his current shell simply wasn't blessed with a physique suited for battle.

He could still probably improve very slowly later on, but it would take decades to achieve a decent completion.

After hitting a wall, Lark decided to proceed with body reconstruction.

He wouldn't have resorted to such a drastic measure had it not been for the threat of demons.

"Hmm…," Gorovir stroked his beard. "I can create them, but infusing them into your body is an entirely different matter. I'm no shaman, Your Majesty. And although I do not know much about medicine, I'm sure it'll be an excruciatingly painful process."

"I know. I'll take care of that part when the time comes. And I'm more resilient than I look," said Lark confidently. "Do not worry. I can endure it."

"Is that so? Then, I'll personally work on it right away once I get the necessary materials. I will send a message to you once everything is ready, Your Majesty."

"Thank you, Gorovir," said Lark. "If there is anything you need in the future, do not hesitate to contact me. I'll do my best to fulfill them."

Gorovir fell silent.

The Divine Blacksmith cautiously spoke, "Then, can you grant me this favor, Your Majesty?"

Lark silently urged him to continue.

"Once the floating castle is completed, please allow me to live in it," said Gorovir.

The Divine Blacksmith's disciples' eyes grew wide when they heard this. This was no different from a declaration that their master would leave the Dwarven Kingdom and join the Coalition Army in the future.

"And please allow my disciples to come with me," said Gorovir. "If they wish to accompany me, please allow them to live in the floating castle, too, Your Majesty."

Lark looked conflicted.

"It's a difficult request," said Lark.

Gorovir didn't expect Lark to be this hesitant.

"But why?"

"Gorovir," said Lark. "The floating castle is a tool meant to suppress the demons that would invade this realm in the future. You must have heard of the Coalition Army by now. I am a single man, and it's impossible for me to be in different places at the same time. That's why we need the floating castle in order for the Coalition Army to reach faraway places quickly and provide reinforcements for our allies."

Hearing this, Gorovir understood what Lark was trying to say. He understood why Lark was hesitant on letting him live in the floating castle.

If Gorovir lived in the floating castle, there would be a high chance of him dying if the floating castle was attacked by the demons.

"I am not afraid of dying," said Gorovir.

"That's just you," said Lark. "Your disciples are probably still young, at least on the dwarven race's standards. A master should never compromise his disciples' safety for the sake of his ambitions. In the end, they should be free to live their lives the way they want. Gorovir, a master is simply a guide. A stepping stone. We should never become a wall that would hinder our disciple's growth."

Gorovir fell silent.

The gazes of the Divine Blacksmith's disciples visibly softened when they heard Lark's words.

"I will give you time to think about your request," said Lark. "If you've resolved yourself to be at the front lines at all times, I will not stop you from living in the floating castle. But I ask that you do not force others to come with you. Remember. Your dreams are yours alone, Gorovir. Your disciples deserve to live their lives the way they want. This is the least you could do for them as their master."

Gorovir closed his eyes. "I shall keep your words in mind."

After that exchange, Gorovir measured Lark's body in order to accurately gauge the dimensions of the adamantite bones and mithril fibers needed for body reconstruction.

Lark's group also stayed in the workshop for a couple of hours. They watched as Gorovir personally demonstrated his skills on the forge.

As expected of the greatest blacksmith in the Dwarven Kingdom – his every strike of the hammer, strengthened with mana, was filled with precision.

The forge flames danced about, and Gorovir embraced the heat with his bare skin, lost in a trance.

The next day, Lark decided to fulfill his promise to Vulcan.

It was finally time to teach the leader of the Ancient Fire Dragons the strongest technique of the Fire Elemental Lord Candela, one of the two existences Evander Alaester considered his master.