Chapter 136: Ironfelt (1/2)

“I refuse!”

***

Ironfelt is a gray dwarf who had just earned the title of Craftmaster—to be precise, he had only cleared the trials of the Magma City Craftsmen Guild yesterday.

Being a craftsman who had been stuck at Golden Crest for over thirty years, it was not his first-time taking part in the Craftsmen Guild’s Craftmaster Hammering Trial. Still, he could not progress beyond Golden Crest until yesterday no thanks to the difficulty of the assessment’s questions and his limit in terms of talent.

And yet, the Craftmaster Hammering Trials was surprisingly easy yesterday, and felt more or less the same as the exam questions he had when he rose from Silver Crest to Golden Crest.

He had found it curious at first, but his boorish and open-minded dwarven nature stopped him from delving on it. In fact, he was joyfully downing ale as he celebrated with his family for the whole night as hard as he could.

Even before his intoxication faded and his head ached terribly in his hangover, two members of the Craftsmen Guild had arrived and stuffed a very elegantly decorated letter into his hand.

[Dear Mister Slag:]

[In accordance to the divine oracle that His Holiness the Grand Craftmaster received from Stoff, we are pleased to inform you that you have been chosen as a representative of the Craftsmen Guild.]

[As such, you shall head to the Frogpeople’s Village, situated at the Warty Tidal Flats of Gray Fjord, within the domain of the Silver Eagle Duchy and the Valla Empire. There, you shall take the post of resident Craftmaster to aid our allies, the Church of the God of Games.]

[Please pack up and leave Magma City before today, and make haste for the designated location.]

[Yours Sincerely, Furnacewatch of the Craftsmen Guild]

The content of the letter left Ironfelt frowning as he lisped. “Y-you people are looking for a Craftmaster. W-what does that has to do with a Gold Crest like m-me?”

The two dwarves said nothing and merely stared at Ironfelt’s chest.

Ironfelt looked down as well. There, the black scarf embroidered with a golden hammer was glimmering dazzling over his chest.

“Oh sh*t.” Ironfelt was immediately halfway sober as memories of yesterday returned to his muddleheaded brain.

No wonder the promotion trials were so easy yesterday.

No wonder Ironspade who had ties with people in the Craftsmen Guild did not join the trials yesterday.

Every single one of you was prepared to throw me out so that I become your scapegoat!

After all, for most members of the Craftsmen Guild, staying in Magma City and near the heat from lava to forge various items was far more comfortable then heading to human or other humanoid settlements to do the same work.

As such, the gray dwarves would never leave their residence unless they needed to accomplish something major.

Such as a divine oracle.

“You tricked me, Ironspade! Ironspadeee—!”

***