Bab 1117: Dragons in Goldspire

Rurik stood there, absolutely dumbfounded by Arlen's request. He blinked, as if expecting the words to change or for someone to tell him it was all a cruel joke. When he realized that Arlen was dead serious, a red flush crept up from his neck to his face, and his eyes narrowed in anger.

"A hundred more, you say?" Rurik bellowed, his voice echoing in the cavernous forging hall. "Do you have any idea what just happened here, Arlen? I lost friends, comrades, because of this one cursed artifact, and now you're asking for a hundred more of these death-bringers?"

Rurik's face contorted with rage, and he seemed ready to erupt like a volcano at any moment. The guards, Arlen, and even Michael, who had been observing the scene, took a step back, giving Rurik space to vent his fury.