Evergreen, 7th of Budrise, year 179 BN
Outside of Roxanne's tavern, Gregor and Richard were walking down the streets of Evergreen. Their destination was the association, where Richard would finally meet some of the local blacksmiths. As long as talks with them went well, then his plan to mass-produce steel could go into the next phase.
"Ugh, it stinks," Gregor complained, his nose crinkled in distaste, his hand pinching it closed.
Richard glanced down at the dwarf, wondering what he was talking about. The city always had a smell to it, people threw out buckets of piss and shit all the time. Out on the road, and that was by no means sanitary. It's been so long since he arrived here and in that time Richard got used to the smell. Eventually something would have to be done about it.
"What are you talking about?" Richard's voice carried a note of genuine curiosity.
Gregor's glare was as sharp as the edge of a well-forged blade. "I'm talking about you."
Perplexed, Richard sniffed at his own clothing, as he arched his brow. His daily routine was thorough, given the circumstances—a brisk cleanse in the chill of morning and a more painstaking effort to scrub away the day's toil each evening. Soap was a luxury from his past life that he wish existed here. So far he's yet to encounter a merchant that sold any, but, that didn't stop him from staying clean as best he could.
"Tsk. Damn humans always smell," Gregor muttered under his breath.
Richard's confusion deepened, his mind racing to understand the sudden change in his Gregor's demeanor. "What are you talking about? You've never mentioned anything before. Is something bothering you?"
He tried to recall the moment Gregor took the seat next to him at the tavern, but the dwarf didn't seem to act in any way that was out of the norm for him. The only thing Richard could think of was that Gregor only drank half of his ale before wishing to leave. He did not even partake in the conversation like he usually did.
Richard chalked it up to him not being interested since it didn't have anything to do with smithing. There were few conversations Gregor entertained that didn't have to do with blacksmithing.
Gregor's frustration seemed to bubble over. "I should be the one asking you that! You're practically drenched in that stench. I usually tolerate it, but today, it's unbearable."
Richard paused, and Gregor followed suit as they both stopped walking. Richard, standing tall, met Gregor's gaze squarely. "Gregor, you need to explain because I'm at a loss here."
Gregor's expression softened a little. "It's your mating scent," he said. "You're emitting it so strongly it's overwhelming." He paused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Roxanne was covered in it as well. Made made my stomach churn whilst drinking."
Richard's jaw slackened, words failing him. Mating scent? What was Gregor talking about? Instinctively, he inhaled, searching for any hint of the smell, yet found nothing amiss.
Gregor's reacted with a shake of his head and a sigh. "Don't bother trying. Your senses won't pick up on it. If they were, perhaps you'd understand... and do something about it."
Richard's eyes flickered as the initial shock began to dissipate. "You can actually detect pheromones? That's...remarkable. But, really, what do they smell like to you?" His interest was piqued, drawing him closer to Gregor.
Gregor recoiled slightly, an invisible barrier rising between them. "Bah! Stand back a bit, will you? That scent's going to cling to you for hours. To my nose, it's annoyingly sweet. And, if you haven't picked up on it, sweets aren't exactly favored by my kind—or me, for that matter. It's why you've never seen me so much as glance at a piece of fruit."
Reflecting on Gregor's words, Richard realized the truth in them. Neither Gregor nor his apprentice, Andy, had ever indulged in anything that could be considered sweet here in Evergreen. Even Richard had an apple here and there when he could, but those two, never.
"Perhaps we should consider postponing our visit to the association? Given its predominantly dwarven membership, my...current smell might not make the best impression," Richard suggested.
He steered clear of discussing the reason behind the scent. His interactions with Roxanne had been professionally cordial, albeit with an undercurrent of something more, something he hadn't felt since Valorie. Valorie—a name that brought forth memories of his youth, and their closeness. After his return from his tour overseas, he just couldn't be close to her anymore and ended up driving her away. It was one of his biggest regrets in life, and he always pictured how things would have turned out if he leaned on her a bit more.
Richard was in no way an eunuch, and he did have his urges but he had enough self-control to not act on them whenever he saw fit. But, as he got to know more about Roxanne, he could potentially see himself with her. It wasn't a sure thing yet, there was still a lot he wanted to know. However, out of everyone he's come across so far, she was by far his best option.
Unmarried, not fooling around with the entire town, had a goal, even if she was somewhat unsure about it. Then there were her looks, she was beautiful and could hold a decent conversation. That being said, she had her own flaws from what he could tell, but who didn't? No one was perfect, not even him.
And, she was emitting the same smell as him. Richard looked at Gregor once. He did say they were both giving off the scent, so that meant she was interested in him. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, it's been so long that he had a difficult time reading cues. Some were just basic, but women were always strange. He didn't want to misread anything, and besides some small banter here and there he's kept everything professional. At least he hoped that was the case.
"Ugh, that grin of yours." Gregor clicked his tongue. "I shouldn't have said anything."
"What? I see no grin." Richard replied with feigned ignorance.
Gregor shook his head. Now he'd have to find a new tavern to go to, least he wants to smell that scent every time he goes back to Roxanne's with Richard. Worse if the two of them did hook up. How was he supposed to work with Richard then?
Thinking about it just made his mood sour. He enjoyed it more when Richard worked day and night blacksmithing, not worrying about relationships. In that regard, Gregor could understand and appreciate the man for his hard work. All they needed in life was the forge and their tools.
Then again, Gregor was single. Even his brother had a wife and kids. Finding a good dwarven woman was hard, and even harder to find one that could keep his interest. All they cared about was tossing back beer, fighting in the pits, and strongarming their husbands into doing their bidding. None of them ever cared about blacksmithing! It was truly the worst.
Shifting back to the matter at hand, Gregor addressed Richard's concern. "To answer your question, there's no need. You smell, but your work will speak for itself. They are already craving the opportunity to work with steel, but to work with you is another thing entirely. Gravenwish is the main dwarf you'll have to impress, get him on your side and the others will follow. Although it won't be that easy since Bojack has been talking about you." Gregor explained.
Richard, puzzled, furrowed his brow, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at a group of dwarves haggling over the price of grain. "Bojack?" he echoed, struggling to place the name among the multitude of faces and encounters he's had in Evergreen.
Gregor raised his eyebrow at that. "Well, it should. He's the master blacksmith here in Evergreen, and you're stepping all over his territory. He'll also be present, and he's not too keen on a human, especially one as young as you by dwarven standards, overshadowing his craft with your superior weaponry."
"Oh, him." Richard finally recalled who Bojack was. He only met the dwarf like once or twice, and that was in the presence of Lord Kirk. Other than that Richard's never met him outside of the lord's estate. "I'm not too worried about him, but who is Gravenwish? What makes him so special?"
"He's the only dwarf here in Evergreen that managed to make something out of Obsidian. Not a weapon, but at least what he managed to craft didn't break like all the others. His weapons are also well-known and he often forges equipment for many of the elite within the lord's army."
Richard chuckled, "Obsidian, huh?" He glanced at a nearby stall where crude iron tools were displayed, their quality and workmanship below his standards. "Tried my hand at it. Very touchy. It blew up on me once." He shook his head before cracking a smile. "But, I'm going to try it again."
Back when he forged a weapon for Lord Kirk, instead of asking directly for gold tales Richard instead opted to gain large qualities of ore. Iron and Obsidian ore. While he had plenty of experience working with iron and could turn it into steel, obsidian was another story. The dark stone had a glossy shine to it almost like glass, but given what he learned from listening to Gregor and even the demonstration Lord Kirk provided. He knew that the ore was durable, as strong as low-quality steel since he couldn't make anything too outstanding at the time.
However, it was a bit worse than damascus steel. But, was that truly the case? In the world of blacksmithing, the smith's experience had to be taken into account when judging their products. Five blacksmiths that are given the same exact material will create five different quality works. So it could be that the sword Lord Kirk had that was made from obsidian was poorly made.
Steel was a lot easier to work with and create which was a huge plus to any smith. It was an advantage Richard wanted to exploit when he met with the members of the association. But, the challenge he faced when dealing with obsidian was fun and a new experience for him. If he could learn how to bend the ore to his will, it might turn out to be better than he imagined. It was also a fantasy ore, or at least never discovered on modern earth. This meant that there could be a lot unknown about it that the people of this world have yet to discover.
Gregor, listening intently, nodded in agreement. "Heating or cooling it down too quickly can do that. The ore is so expensive that it's hard for blacksmiths to practice with it, and even then you'd still have to deal with the fact that it can fracture during the entire process if you put too much stress on it. But, it's all worth it when you do manage to finish. It slices through armor as if it were mere cloth, its edge unrivaled. That's the dream that haunts every dwarf with a forge and hammer. To create something of obsidian is to etch one's name in the annals of craftsmanship."
"Well, sharp to a certain extent," Richard said. "It's going up against iron, and that's not saying much if I'm being honest. But, I can see why your kind chase after that dream. Doing the almost impossible is a feat that tempts all, and even I can't help but want to achieve it at some point." Richard glanced down at Gregor. "But tell me, how many have managed to create something using that ore?"
Gregor looked taken aback by Richard's question. "You don't know? We're talking about legends here, Richard. Their names are known across the entire continent," he said, a hint of pride in his voice tempered by a sigh. "Only twenty. Just twenty souls have consistently succeeded with obsidian."
"Know any? Like, personally?" Richard asked as they turned down a narrower alley.
The question seemed to draw out a deeper sigh from Gregor, his footsteps slowing. "Aye, one. I was his apprentice for years. Yet, he never fully recognized my efforts, never once acknowledged how far I'd advanced." His voice carried a weight, a blend of respect and unresolved bitterness. "Then the bastard went and got his arm bitten off by a Chubruh and his personality became the worst. So I left, he had nothing left to teach me and I figured within a few years I'd manage to reach his level."
"Ahh, and that didn't happen?" Richard probed.
The dwarf laughed, a sound devoid of humor. "If I had, our paths would never have crossed. My fame would've dwarfed even the mountains." He paused, staring into the distance, "But here I am, with you, still chasing after something that seems fleeting."
"Speaking of which," Richard began, his voice echoing slightly off the close alley walls, "what exactly is a Chubruh? And how did your master end up meeting one?"
"The Chubruh," he started, his voice low as he recalled the terrible creature. "Picture a predator that lives deep in caverns. Slim, long, and agile. Unlike anything you've seen, its two most terrifying traits are its ability to blend in with the caverns, and the mouth at the end of its tail. That thing has a mind of its own, with teeth as sharp as an obsidian blade. It's able to sever limbs in an instant."
Richard's seen a few creatures so far during his stay in this world, but he's never heard of one that's been able to camouflage itself. The fact that it lived in caves was a relief, imagine if it was out in the wild open plains. He nearly shuddered at that thought. The movie Jurassic World taught him one thing, a predator that could hide itself was a dangerous one.
"My master, driven by rumors of a newfound ore whispered among the caverns of our homeland, embarked on an expedition with a band of other dwarves." Gregor paused, the memory coming back to him as if it happened yesterday. "But what awaited them was not the rumored ores, but a nest of Chubruhs. The rest... well, I'm sure you can guess."
Richard placed his hand on Gregor's shoulder. "I don't even want to know how you guys manage to mine ores with those things hanging about."
Gregor laughed at that. "They only appear in the deep caverns, it's where the obsidian is found and why it's so rare. My kind have only ventured so far, but Richard, there are rumors. Of other ores being deeper in them, ones that would put obsidian to shame. Can you imagine the possibilities? That is why my people go there because we all seek fame in one sense or another. Not to mention the idea of creating a weapon from a mysterious new ore is tempting. There's also the money involved as well, people pay a decent amount of tales to bring back a batch of ore from down there, or to explore deeper."
As they emerged from the alleyway, it seemed that all life in the area converged upon a single structure. It was as tall as the lords estate, with a stone wall surrounding the entire building. Dwarves moved about with a purpose, shoving those standing still out of the way. A few humans were mingling with one another in the midst of a heated discussion.
Richard's eyes took in the sight that was the Association. The entrance was wide open with the doors ajar and people constantly flowing in and out of it. He was pleasantly surprised to see an elven man come out of the facility, as he'd never encountered one here in Evergreen before.
The sound of metal striking metal in a relentless rhythm made his hand twitch. He felt the sudden urge to go to his own workshop and begin a new project right away.
As they approached, Gregor led the way entering through the metal gate. The first thing Richard noticed was the large bulletin board positioned near the entrance. It was full of sheets of parchment, some fresh others wittered away by time and touch. They were pinned to the board with a nail. He couldn't help but read over a few. There were requests for ores, pleas for weapons and armor that were unmatched. Requests for masters to pass on their teachings, and offerings for various services at a set price.
Gregor noticed Richard's interest in the bulletin board. "Bah! You're too skilled to be looking at that thing. The majority of those offering their services have yet to make a name for themselves, freshly graduated apprentices. While the requests are from those who can't afford a real smith of any kind. Come, wait until you see the inside!"
Richard nodded once but he couldn't help but smile at the sight.
As they both strode forward, they entered the wide open doors of the association. The interior of the building was a vast, open space, its high ceilings supported by thick, ornate pillars. The air inside was alive with the sounds of negotiation, instruction, and the occasional laughter, echoing off the stone walls and wooden beams that framed the guild hall.
Directly ahead, three sets of stairs, each carved with intricate designs depicting various crafts, branched out from the main hall, leading up to the second floor where specialized workshops and meeting rooms could be found. In the center of this bustling hub stood a magnificent winding staircase, its rails adorned with gold. This staircase spiraled upwards, disappearing into the expanse of the third floor, which was where the associations most esteemed mastered had their own private workshops.
Amidst the flow of artisans and apprentices, a crate full of dark-colored ore caught Richard's attention. It sat prominently in front of a dwarf whose appearance seemed as rough and untamed as the material he was peddling. His clothes were tattered, stained with the evidence of long hours spent laboring over forge and anvil, grease marks streaking his skin like battle scars. The dwarf's hands, though grimy, were steady and confident as they gestured towards the crate, his voice rising above the din in an attempt to attract buyers.
Richard was attracted to the ore, its dark color made him wonder what it was, but being peddled out in the open like this made him suspicious. Before he could voice his interest, Gregor's firm hand touched his arm. "Pay him no mind," Gregor muttered, his voice low but urgent. "That one's trying to pass off that pile of trash as obsidian. It's a common ruse around these parts—preying on the hopes of the naive. True obsidian has a sheen unlike any other. That," he nodded dismissively towards the crate, "is nothing but slag, leftovers deemed unworthy of a skilled artisan's time."
Nodding once, Richard took Gregor's advice to heart. "I'm going to check it out, looks like something..." Richard didn't finish his sentence but his words caught Gregor's eye.
"Like?" Gregor asked.
Richard gave a soft smile and approached the dwarven man selling the ore. "Five silver for the entire crate, no haggling!" The dwarven man said as soon as Richard stood in front of him.
Pointing to the crate Richard asked, "You mind?"
He gave a nonchalant shrug."Go ahead, examine it if you must," he grunted.
Richard reached into the crate and carefully extracted one of the ores.
The texture, weight, and appearance immediately caught his attention, it felt familiar to a mineral hes worked with before. This thought made his heart beat speed up. The possibility that it might be graphite—a material of significant value and utility in his previous world for everything from industrial applications to the precursor for creating synthetic diamonds—was both thrilling and unexpected.
He could feel Gregor's gaze on him, curious but still dismissive of the ore's worth. He kept his poker face on as he didn't want to show too much of an interest in the mineral. If he were to buy it outright, or even show some excitement others would become curious as to why and he didn't want that. But first, he had to be sure this was what he thought it was.
To confirm his suspicion without drawing undue attention, Richard decided on a discreet approach. He gently pressed his fingernail against the surface of the ore, testing its hardness. The ore easily yielded to the slight pressure, a clear indication of its softness characteristic of graphite.
This simple action, seemingly innocuous to any onlookers, was a critical first step in confirming the material's identity.
Next, Richard rubbed the ore between his fingers, a subtle test for its lubricity. Graphite, known for its use as a lubricant, possesses a distinctly slippery texture when manipulated. The ore between Richard's fingers felt unmistakably smooth and left a slight residue, another hallmark of graphite. These observations, coupled with his initial visual assessment, solidified his belief that the ore was indeed graphite.
Satisfied, Richard placed the ore back into the crate, feigning disappointment. He shook his head, mirroring the vendor's indifference, then turned to leave. Gregor, who had observed the exchange leaned in as they walked away. "Told you it was trash," he said, a hint of 'I-told-you-so' in his voice.
Richard nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself. The realization that the natives of this world had yet to comprehend the full potential of what they deemed worthless was astounding. Graphite, considered trash here, could revolutionize several industries and crafts within the association and beyond. This discovery underscored the vast gulf in knowledge and application between his previous world and this one, and Richard couldn't help but wonder what other materials were undervalued or misunderstood by the inhabitants here.
Evergreen, 7th of Budrise, year 179 BN
Outside of Roxanne's tavern, Gregor and Richard were walking down the streets of Evergreen. Their destination was the association, where Richard would finally meet some of the local blacksmiths. As long as talks with them went well, then his plan to mass-produce steel could go into the next phase.
"Ugh, it stinks," Gregor complained, his nose crinkled in distaste, his hand pinching it closed.
Richard glanced down at the dwarf, wondering what he was talking about. The city always had a smell to it, people threw out buckets of piss and shit all the time. Out on the road, and that was by no means sanitary. It's been so long since he arrived here and in that time Richard got used to the smell. Eventually something would have to be done about it.
"What are you talking about?" Richard's voice carried a note of genuine curiosity.
Gregor's glare was as sharp as the edge of a well-forged blade. "I'm talking about you."
Perplexed, Richard sniffed at his own clothing, as he arched his brow. His daily routine was thorough, given the circumstances—a brisk cleanse in the chill of morning and a more painstaking effort to scrub away the day's toil each evening. Soap was a luxury from his past life that he wish existed here. So far he's yet to encounter a merchant that sold any, but, that didn't stop him from staying clean as best he could.
"Tsk. Damn humans always smell," Gregor muttered under his breath.
Richard's confusion deepened, his mind racing to understand the sudden change in his Gregor's demeanor. "What are you talking about? You've never mentioned anything before. Is something bothering you?"
He tried to recall the moment Gregor took the seat next to him at the tavern, but the dwarf didn't seem to act in any way that was out of the norm for him. The only thing Richard could think of was that Gregor only drank half of his ale before wishing to leave. He did not even partake in the conversation like he usually did.
Richard chalked it up to him not being interested since it didn't have anything to do with smithing. There were few conversations Gregor entertained that didn't have to do with blacksmithing.
Gregor's frustration seemed to bubble over. "I should be the one asking you that! You're practically drenched in that stench. I usually tolerate it, but today, it's unbearable."
Richard paused, and Gregor followed suit as they both stopped walking. Richard, standing tall, met Gregor's gaze squarely. "Gregor, you need to explain because I'm at a loss here."
Gregor's expression softened a little. "It's your mating scent," he said. "You're emitting it so strongly it's overwhelming." He paused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Roxanne was covered in it as well. Made made my stomach churn whilst drinking."
Richard's jaw slackened, words failing him. Mating scent? What was Gregor talking about? Instinctively, he inhaled, searching for any hint of the smell, yet found nothing amiss.
Gregor's reacted with a shake of his head and a sigh. "Don't bother trying. Your senses won't pick up on it. If they were, perhaps you'd understand... and do something about it."
Richard's eyes flickered as the initial shock began to dissipate. "You can actually detect pheromones? That's...remarkable. But, really, what do they smell like to you?" His interest was piqued, drawing him closer to Gregor.
Gregor recoiled slightly, an invisible barrier rising between them. "Bah! Stand back a bit, will you? That scent's going to cling to you for hours. To my nose, it's annoyingly sweet. And, if you haven't picked up on it, sweets aren't exactly favored by my kind—or me, for that matter. It's why you've never seen me so much as glance at a piece of fruit."
Reflecting on Gregor's words, Richard realized the truth in them. Neither Gregor nor his apprentice, Andy, had ever indulged in anything that could be considered sweet here in Evergreen. Even Richard had an apple here and there when he could, but those two, never.
"Perhaps we should consider postponing our visit to the association? Given its predominantly dwarven membership, my...current smell might not make the best impression," Richard suggested.
He steered clear of discussing the reason behind the scent. His interactions with Roxanne had been professionally cordial, albeit with an undercurrent of something more, something he hadn't felt since Valorie. Valorie—a name that brought forth memories of his youth, and their closeness. After his return from his tour overseas, he just couldn't be close to her anymore and ended up driving her away. It was one of his biggest regrets in life, and he always pictured how things would have turned out if he leaned on her a bit more.
Richard was in no way an eunuch, and he did have his urges but he had enough self-control to not act on them whenever he saw fit. But, as he got to know more about Roxanne, he could potentially see himself with her. It wasn't a sure thing yet, there was still a lot he wanted to know. However, out of everyone he's come across so far, she was by far his best option.
Unmarried, not fooling around with the entire town, had a goal, even if she was somewhat unsure about it. Then there were her looks, she was beautiful and could hold a decent conversation. That being said, she had her own flaws from what he could tell, but who didn't? No one was perfect, not even him.
And, she was emitting the same smell as him. Richard looked at Gregor once. He did say they were both giving off the scent, so that meant she was interested in him. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, it's been so long that he had a difficult time reading cues. Some were just basic, but women were always strange. He didn't want to misread anything, and besides some small banter here and there he's kept everything professional. At least he hoped that was the case.
"Ugh, that grin of yours." Gregor clicked his tongue. "I shouldn't have said anything."
"What? I see no grin." Richard replied with feigned ignorance.
Gregor shook his head. Now he'd have to find a new tavern to go to, least he wants to smell that scent every time he goes back to Roxanne's with Richard. Worse if the two of them did hook up. How was he supposed to work with Richard then?
Thinking about it just made his mood sour. He enjoyed it more when Richard worked day and night blacksmithing, not worrying about relationships. In that regard, Gregor could understand and appreciate the man for his hard work. All they needed in life was the forge and their tools.
Then again, Gregor was single. Even his brother had a wife and kids. Finding a good dwarven woman was hard, and even harder to find one that could keep his interest. All they cared about was tossing back beer, fighting in the pits, and strongarming their husbands into doing their bidding. None of them ever cared about blacksmithing! It was truly the worst.
Shifting back to the matter at hand, Gregor addressed Richard's concern. "To answer your question, there's no need. You smell, but your work will speak for itself. They are already craving the opportunity to work with steel, but to work with you is another thing entirely. Gravenwish is the main dwarf you'll have to impress, get him on your side and the others will follow. Although it won't be that easy since Bojack has been talking about you." Gregor explained.
Richard, puzzled, furrowed his brow, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at a group of dwarves haggling over the price of grain. "Bojack?" he echoed, struggling to place the name among the multitude of faces and encounters he's had in Evergreen.
Gregor raised his eyebrow at that. "Well, it should. He's the master blacksmith here in Evergreen, and you're stepping all over his territory. He'll also be present, and he's not too keen on a human, especially one as young as you by dwarven standards, overshadowing his craft with your superior weaponry."
"Oh, him." Richard finally recalled who Bojack was. He only met the dwarf like once or twice, and that was in the presence of Lord Kirk. Other than that Richard's never met him outside of the lord's estate. "I'm not too worried about him, but who is Gravenwish? What makes him so special?"
"He's the only dwarf here in Evergreen that managed to make something out of Obsidian. Not a weapon, but at least what he managed to craft didn't break like all the others. His weapons are also well-known and he often forges equipment for many of the elite within the lord's army."
Richard chuckled, "Obsidian, huh?" He glanced at a nearby stall where crude iron tools were displayed, their quality and workmanship below his standards. "Tried my hand at it. Very touchy. It blew up on me once." He shook his head before cracking a smile. "But, I'm going to try it again."
Back when he forged a weapon for Lord Kirk, instead of asking directly for gold tales Richard instead opted to gain large qualities of ore. Iron and Obsidian ore. While he had plenty of experience working with iron and could turn it into steel, obsidian was another story. The dark stone had a glossy shine to it almost like glass, but given what he learned from listening to Gregor and even the demonstration Lord Kirk provided. He knew that the ore was durable, as strong as low-quality steel since he couldn't make anything too outstanding at the time.
However, it was a bit worse than damascus steel. But, was that truly the case? In the world of blacksmithing, the smith's experience had to be taken into account when judging their products. Five blacksmiths that are given the same exact material will create five different quality works. So it could be that the sword Lord Kirk had that was made from obsidian was poorly made.
Steel was a lot easier to work with and create which was a huge plus to any smith. It was an advantage Richard wanted to exploit when he met with the members of the association. But, the challenge he faced when dealing with obsidian was fun and a new experience for him. If he could learn how to bend the ore to his will, it might turn out to be better than he imagined. It was also a fantasy ore, or at least never discovered on modern earth. This meant that there could be a lot unknown about it that the people of this world have yet to discover.
Gregor, listening intently, nodded in agreement. "Heating or cooling it down too quickly can do that. The ore is so expensive that it's hard for blacksmiths to practice with it, and even then you'd still have to deal with the fact that it can fracture during the entire process if you put too much stress on it. But, it's all worth it when you do manage to finish. It slices through armor as if it were mere cloth, its edge unrivaled. That's the dream that haunts every dwarf with a forge and hammer. To create something of obsidian is to etch one's name in the annals of craftsmanship."
"Well, sharp to a certain extent," Richard said. "It's going up against iron, and that's not saying much if I'm being honest. But, I can see why your kind chase after that dream. Doing the almost impossible is a feat that tempts all, and even I can't help but want to achieve it at some point." Richard glanced down at Gregor. "But tell me, how many have managed to create something using that ore?"
Gregor looked taken aback by Richard's question. "You don't know? We're talking about legends here, Richard. Their names are known across the entire continent," he said, a hint of pride in his voice tempered by a sigh. "Only twenty. Just twenty souls have consistently succeeded with obsidian."
"Know any? Like, personally?" Richard asked as they turned down a narrower alley.
The question seemed to draw out a deeper sigh from Gregor, his footsteps slowing. "Aye, one. I was his apprentice for years. Yet, he never fully recognized my efforts, never once acknowledged how far I'd advanced." His voice carried a weight, a blend of respect and unresolved bitterness. "Then the bastard went and got his arm bitten off by a Chubruh and his personality became the worst. So I left, he had nothing left to teach me and I figured within a few years I'd manage to reach his level."
"Ahh, and that didn't happen?" Richard probed.
The dwarf laughed, a sound devoid of humor. "If I had, our paths would never have crossed. My fame would've dwarfed even the mountains." He paused, staring into the distance, "But here I am, with you, still chasing after something that seems fleeting."
"Speaking of which," Richard began, his voice echoing slightly off the close alley walls, "what exactly is a Chubruh? And how did your master end up meeting one?"
"The Chubruh," he started, his voice low as he recalled the terrible creature. "Picture a predator that lives deep in caverns. Slim, long, and agile. Unlike anything you've seen, its two most terrifying traits are its ability to blend in with the caverns, and the mouth at the end of its tail. That thing has a mind of its own, with teeth as sharp as an obsidian blade. It's able to sever limbs in an instant."
Richard's seen a few creatures so far during his stay in this world, but he's never heard of one that's been able to camouflage itself. The fact that it lived in caves was a relief, imagine if it was out in the wild open plains. He nearly shuddered at that thought. The movie Jurassic World taught him one thing, a predator that could hide itself was a dangerous one.
"My master, driven by rumors of a newfound ore whispered among the caverns of our homeland, embarked on an expedition with a band of other dwarves." Gregor paused, the memory coming back to him as if it happened yesterday. "But what awaited them was not the rumored ores, but a nest of Chubruhs. The rest... well, I'm sure you can guess."
Richard placed his hand on Gregor's shoulder. "I don't even want to know how you guys manage to mine ores with those things hanging about."
Gregor laughed at that. "They only appear in the deep caverns, it's where the obsidian is found and why it's so rare. My kind have only ventured so far, but Richard, there are rumors. Of other ores being deeper in them, ones that would put obsidian to shame. Can you imagine the possibilities? That is why my people go there because we all seek fame in one sense or another. Not to mention the idea of creating a weapon from a mysterious new ore is tempting. There's also the money involved as well, people pay a decent amount of tales to bring back a batch of ore from down there, or to explore deeper."
As they emerged from the alleyway, it seemed that all life in the area converged upon a single structure. It was as tall as the lords estate, with a stone wall surrounding the entire building. Dwarves moved about with a purpose, shoving those standing still out of the way. A few humans were mingling with one another in the midst of a heated discussion.
Richard's eyes took in the sight that was the Association. The entrance was wide open with the doors ajar and people constantly flowing in and out of it. He was pleasantly surprised to see an elven man come out of the facility, as he'd never encountered one here in Evergreen before.
The sound of metal striking metal in a relentless rhythm made his hand twitch. He felt the sudden urge to go to his own workshop and begin a new project right away.
As they approached, Gregor led the way entering through the metal gate. The first thing Richard noticed was the large bulletin board positioned near the entrance. It was full of sheets of parchment, some fresh others wittered away by time and touch. They were pinned to the board with a nail. He couldn't help but read over a few. There were requests for ores, pleas for weapons and armor that were unmatched. Requests for masters to pass on their teachings, and offerings for various services at a set price.
Gregor noticed Richard's interest in the bulletin board. "Bah! You're too skilled to be looking at that thing. The majority of those offering their services have yet to make a name for themselves, freshly graduated apprentices. While the requests are from those who can't afford a real smith of any kind. Come, wait until you see the inside!"
Richard nodded once but he couldn't help but smile at the sight.
As they both strode forward, they entered the wide open doors of the association. The interior of the building was a vast, open space, its high ceilings supported by thick, ornate pillars. The air inside was alive with the sounds of negotiation, instruction, and the occasional laughter, echoing off the stone walls and wooden beams that framed the guild hall.
Directly ahead, three sets of stairs, each carved with intricate designs depicting various crafts, branched out from the main hall, leading up to the second floor where specialized workshops and meeting rooms could be found. In the center of this bustling hub stood a magnificent winding staircase, its rails adorned with gold. This staircase spiraled upwards, disappearing into the expanse of the third floor, which was where the associations most esteemed mastered had their own private workshops.
Amidst the flow of artisans and apprentices, a crate full of dark-colored ore caught Richard's attention. It sat prominently in front of a dwarf whose appearance seemed as rough and untamed as the material he was peddling. His clothes were tattered, stained with the evidence of long hours spent laboring over forge and anvil, grease marks streaking his skin like battle scars. The dwarf's hands, though grimy, were steady and confident as they gestured towards the crate, his voice rising above the din in an attempt to attract buyers.
Richard was attracted to the ore, its dark color made him wonder what it was, but being peddled out in the open like this made him suspicious. Before he could voice his interest, Gregor's firm hand touched his arm. "Pay him no mind," Gregor muttered, his voice low but urgent. "That one's trying to pass off that pile of trash as obsidian. It's a common ruse around these parts—preying on the hopes of the naive. True obsidian has a sheen unlike any other. That," he nodded dismissively towards the crate, "is nothing but slag, leftovers deemed unworthy of a skilled artisan's time."
Nodding once, Richard took Gregor's advice to heart. "I'm going to check it out, looks like something..." Richard didn't finish his sentence but his words caught Gregor's eye.
"Like?" Gregor asked.
Richard gave a soft smile and approached the dwarven man selling the ore. "Five silver for the entire crate, no haggling!" The dwarven man said as soon as Richard stood in front of him.
Pointing to the crate Richard asked, "You mind?"
He gave a nonchalant shrug."Go ahead, examine it if you must," he grunted.
Richard reached into the crate and carefully extracted one of the ores.
The texture, weight, and appearance immediately caught his attention, it felt familiar to a mineral hes worked with before. This thought made his heart beat speed up. The possibility that it might be graphite—a material of significant value and utility in his previous world for everything from industrial applications to the precursor for creating synthetic diamonds—was both thrilling and unexpected.
He could feel Gregor's gaze on him, curious but still dismissive of the ore's worth. He kept his poker face on as he didn't want to show too much of an interest in the mineral. If he were to buy it outright, or even show some excitement others would become curious as to why and he didn't want that. But first, he had to be sure this was what he thought it was.
To confirm his suspicion without drawing undue attention, Richard decided on a discreet approach. He gently pressed his fingernail against the surface of the ore, testing its hardness. The ore easily yielded to the slight pressure, a clear indication of its softness characteristic of graphite.
This simple action, seemingly innocuous to any onlookers, was a critical first step in confirming the material's identity.
Next, Richard rubbed the ore between his fingers, a subtle test for its lubricity. Graphite, known for its use as a lubricant, possesses a distinctly slippery texture when manipulated. The ore between Richard's fingers felt unmistakably smooth and left a slight residue, another hallmark of graphite. These observations, coupled with his initial visual assessment, solidified his belief that the ore was indeed graphite.
Satisfied, Richard placed the ore back into the crate, feigning disappointment. He shook his head, mirroring the vendor's indifference, then turned to leave. Gregor, who had observed the exchange leaned in as they walked away. "Told you it was trash," he said, a hint of 'I-told-you-so' in his voice.
Richard nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself. The realization that the natives of this world had yet to comprehend the full potential of what they deemed worthless was astounding. Graphite, considered trash here, could revolutionize several industries and crafts within the association and beyond. This discovery underscored the vast gulf in knowledge and application between his previous world and this one, and Richard couldn't help but wonder what other materials were undervalued or misunderstood by the inhabitants here.
