Observing the enigmatic magic runes hovering around the treasure house fade away, Francesca released a soft exhale. She wiped her white palm across her forehead, though there was no actual sweat, and turned to address Toruviel.
"It's alright Toruviel. The seal is complete, and I'm going to open the treasure room now," she assured. "The gate of this treasure room originally relied on a magic node for power and must be opened by a special spell by an elf warlock, so it has been well-preserved for thousands of years. When those human armies attacked, they probably didn't take anything from here. If you want to open it now, I have to inject magic power into it myself."
The elf sorceress explained briefly, then gracefully lifted her right hand. Her slender fingers emanated a magical glow as she traced an extremely intricate magic rune in the air, uttering a spell in the ancient elven language. Accompanying her incantation, a potent magical force was gradually infused into the metal gate of the treasure room under her manipulation.
Amidst a humming sound, a rune in the ancient elven language illuminated on the metal gate of the treasure house. The continuous infusion of magic power intensified the brilliance of the magic rune. Humming persisted until Francesca had injected enough magic power, and then, with a burst of mechanical operation, the door of the treasure house, dormant for thousands of years, officially swung open.
When the dust settled and Toruviel laid eyes on the items in the treasury, she immediately covered her mouth in surprise. Illuminated by the light of several torches, ten immense treasure chests were quietly arranged in the center of the treasury, filled with countless gold and jewels that retained their seductive luster even after thousands of years. Even a simple farmer, unaccustomed to such wealth, could imagine the immense fortune present.
However, in contrast to Toruviel, Francesca displayed no surprise at the sight of the gold. Instead, she shook her head with a sigh. For the current elves, such gold held little value. The elves' former empire possessed wealth surpassing the current human kingdom wealth. The splendor and beauty of the elven city, unparalleled compared to current human towns, couldn't withstand the onslaught of barbaric humans, leading to the elves becoming a minority race like the dwarves. In the face of violence, only violence could contend with it. Unfortunately, her kindred had grasped this truth too late.
Francesca's gaze traversed the treasure chests until she spotted numerous pieces of magic equipment adorning the walls and four colossal metal golems stationed at the corners. She nodded slightly and pursed her lips. Though the treasure house had been protected by magic for a thousand years, its contents remained undamaged. The ancient magic equipment and the four formidable metal golems were indeed more valuable treasures.
After a moment of contemplation, Francesca turned to Toruviel and said, "Don't you have an agreement with the witchers to give them a quarter of the spoils? Although this treasure belongs to our elves, we should wait until they arrive here next time."
............
The next day, in the old city of Vizima, Wayne stowed all his valuables into the magic storage bag, securing it around his neck for safekeeping. He only carried a small purse with dozens of Orens in his waist pocket for regular expenses. As for the snacks from another world, he carefully concealed them under the bedboard, even deploying an Aard sign to ensure they remained undiscovered.
With the magic storage bag, Wayne felt a significant improvement in his capabilities. However, this improvement wasn't in terms of physical attributes or combat skills. A witcher's strength often relied on external tools – swords, alchemy bombs, potions, and formidable armor and swords all played a crucial role.
These tools, such as swords, alchemy bombs, and potions, were valuable but delicate materials prone to damage in battle. Ordinary witchers could only carry a limited amount, restricting their usage. The magic storage bag addressed these issues, allowing Wayne to carry various potions, and store dozens of alchemy bombs of different types without fear of damage.
This enhancement significantly bolstered his ability to confront risks, providing him with diverse solutions for emergencies. Reflecting on his good fortune, Wayne couldn't help but sigh at how quickly he acquired such a valuable piece of spatial equipment.
After breakfast, instead of heading to the city hall to address the matter of buying a house, Wayne consulted a somewhat hungover Geralt for a blueprint of the wolf school's master silver sword design.
The item in question wasn't a finished product but a hand-drawn replica based on Geralt's memory. It encompassed the sword's design concept, equipment appearance, and material configuration diagram. Due to strict requirements, it had to be executed by a master blacksmith with exceptional skills.
While the master-level silver sword wasn't the pinnacle weapon in the wolf school, it was more cost-effective, had more accessible materials, and was easier to maintain compared to the master-level equipment. This made it more suitable for everyday tasks. Wayne didn't want to find himself in a situation where the reward for using a master-level weapon far exceeded the repair fee after slaying a few monsters.
Leaving the Fox Tavern, he followed the address given by Revardon for more than ten minutes until he reached a dwarf blacksmith shop in Vizima. The shop was still open, and three sturdy dwarves, dressed in thin clothes, toiled with large hammers, forging iron objects on the anvil next to the stove. Judging by their shapes, these items were likely knives and agricultural tools used by civilians.
This was customary in the Middle Ages. Unlike in games, blacksmiths primarily crafted tools such as iron pots, kitchen knives, and hoes for farmers and residents. Confirming the address, Wayne, wearing a friendly smile, singled out a young dwarf who appeared the most approachable among the three and inquired, "Is Master O. Henry present? I was recommended by his friend, Leverdon, and I wish to commission him to create some equipment."
The young dwarf, momentarily taken aback by Wayne's question, scratched his hair with fingers covered in iron filings and then replied in a naive manner, "Henry played Gwent all the night. After winning our wages, he drank half a barrel of dark beer. He probably hasn't woken up yet."
"However, getting him to craft equipment for you is nearly impossible. The items crafted by him are never for sale; he only creates equipment for individuals he chooses. Even if many dwarf apprentices pleaded with him, he never agreed."
Upon hearing this, Wayne frowned, realizing that obtaining a master-level silver sword from this master was indeed a formidable challenge. Nevertheless, since he was already here, there was no reason to back down. Regardless of the outcome, he had to give it a try.
Maintaining a friendly smile, Wayne handed the young dwarf the letter of introduction given by Levarden and said, "No problem. I'll wait here. Once Master O. Henry wakes up, please pass this letter to him for me. Also, let him know I'm a witcher seeking to forge a master-level sword. We can discuss the terms, no matter what they are."
With that, Wayne patted the young dwarf on the shoulder and whispered in his ear, "My friend, you can also put in a good word for me. Regardless of the outcome, I'll invite you to the best tavern in the city, and we'll drink until you're satisfied."
Upon hearing Wayne's promise of being invited to the best tavern and drinking to satisfaction, the young dwarf's eyes lit up. He nodded eagerly and said naively, "Alright, you wait here. Actually, Master O. Henry is my uncle, and I'll plead with him for you. Whether he grants me this favor or not depends on your luck."
Observing the young dwarf making his way into the blacksmith's shop, Wayne couldn't help but silently commend his good fortune. It was unexpected that by randomly choosing a seemingly ordinary dwarf, he had found someone with a connection, willing to assist him—a rare stroke of luck.
Instead of idly waiting for the outcome, Wayne approached the other two dwarves who were still engrossed in their work, carefully observing their forging process. Learning the art of forging had long been part of his plan, but finding a skilled blacksmith proved challenging due to the high cost of equipment repairs.
Wayne believed that, with the system's assistance, irrespective of his innate talent, learning forging techniques would eventually lead him to become the most formidable blacksmith globally, crafting advanced equipment surpassing all others. While this process might demand considerable time and energy, the extended lifespan of a Witcher made his aspirations achievable.
Approximately 10 minutes later, Wayne witnessed the young dwarf emerging from the blacksmith's shop, sporting a distinct slap mark on his face but a cheerful smile. Approaching Wayne, he chuckled and said, "Witcher, you've got some luck. My uncle asked me to bring you to him. By the way, I'm Andrew. Remember to buy me a drink when you're done. I'll be at the Kingfisher Tavern; they say the spirit there are top-notch." Wayne nodded, returning the smile, and replied
"Of course, Andrew, my name is Wayne, and I won't forget this promise." Money was of little concern to him, and if Andrew proved to be a person worth befriending, Wayne intended to frequently invite the straightforward and honest dwarf for drinks. Perhaps it could lead to an opportunity to learn forging.
The blacksmith shop was sizable, featuring a furnace and anvil at the entrance, a substantial warehouse in the yard, a coal storage shed, and living quarters for the dwarf blacksmiths. Guided by Andrew, Wayne traversed two courtyards before reaching the dwelling of Master O. Henry.
Upon entering the yard, Wayne heard a robust voice bellow, "Andrew, get out of here and go to work. You've already owed me two months' wages for playing cards. If you're lazy, I might even ban you from drinking." Following the sound, Wayne spotted a bald dwarf, standing less than 1.5 meters tall but with muscles like cast steel. Seated on a stone pier, the wrinkles on his face were prominent, and he sported a snow-white beard tied into three braids. Smoking a pipe, he impatiently scrutinized Wayne.
Upon hearing the reprimand, the robust Andrew, who appeared quite strong, gestured at Wayne like a little rabbit encountering a big bad wolf, reminding him not to forget the promised treat. He hastily made his exit.
Master blacksmith O. Henry cast a disdainful look at his nephew's retreating figure, snorted, and then directed his attention at Wayne, asking bluntly, "Half-elf witcher, this is the first time I've seen you. Which school of witcher you are from?" After contemplating for a moment, Wayne responded truthfully, "I come from the Wolf School, Master O. Henry." The dwarf master blacksmith bit his pipe, exhaled a puff of smoke, took a couple of seconds to reflect, and then sighed as he spoke.
"I haven't heard of it, but 30 years ago, I met a Witcher from the Griffin School, and he commissioned me to create armor. It took half a year just waiting for him to collect the materials. That set of master-level armor not only requires the high skills of craftsmen but also requires the right temperature of the furnace. For this reason, I had to spend a lot of money to upgrade the furnace to meet the requirements of that set of armor. When the armor was finally finished, I couldn't help but burst into tears. It was the most satisfying piece of work when I was young."
Having said that, O'Henry looked at Wayne and asked, "So, Witcher, what piece of equipment do you want to build? Are the blueprints ready?"
Wayne nodded, then took out the blueprint copied by Geralt from his arms, handed it to the dwarf blacksmith, and said, "The drawing is here, Master O. Henry. If you need it, my companion still has a finished product for your appreciation."
The master dwarf blacksmith took the drawing, snorted disdainfully, looked at it for about half a minute, and said, "To tell you the truth, that human businessman has no face with me, and I have no friendship with you. However, since you are a half-elf and a witcher, I can give you two choices. The first one, you prepare the materials yourself; I can help you finish this master silver sword.
However, meteorite iron, demeritium metal, and moon dust, as required in this blueprint, are all quite rare materials. You can go to the market to try your luck and see if you can buy them. As for the second option, as long as you get me something, I can prepare these materials for you, and you don't even need to pay the wages."
"Of course, this item is also quite rare. I have approached many of my contacts, but there is no way to buy it. There is a very old red wine in Toussaint. As long as you help me get a bottle of this fine wine, I'll help you for free."
Hearing these two choices, Wayne couldn't help but frown a little. He didn't know much about the material of the sword or the red wine of Toussaint, and he didn't dare to say which choice was easier. So, he considered the sentence for a while and said in a compromised way, "Master, whether I choose the first option or the second option, you still need to complete this work. How about, you start forging now, and I will collect those materials and things. No matter which one I have completed, you will not suffer a loss."
Master O. Henry thought for a while, felt that this was indeed the case, snorted, and said, "Come on, smart kid." The dwarf licked his lips and added, "In fact, I prefer you to choose the second option."
Wayne nodded with a smile. In fact, he was also inclined towards the second option. Being able to establish a good relationship with a master dwarf blacksmith is a good thing for him and even for the entire wolf school of Witchers.
Master O. Henry is a very straightforward person. After negotiating terms with Wayne, he was driven out of the blacksmith shop without extra greetings. In order to fulfill the blacksmith's request, Wayne didn't want to stay any longer. After leaving the blacksmith shop, he immediately went to find the person with the most connections he knew so far, the rich businessman Levardon.
As a businessman from the south, he naturally has more channels than northern businessmen to obtain Toussaint's fine wine. Wayne's luck is not bad; Levardon's house hasn't been built yet, and he happens to be resting in the tavern today.
After knowing that Wayne visited him, the fat businessman received him very warmly. But this time, there was a request; Wayne took the initiative to pay the bill in advance and ordered a bottle of expensive red wine, which Levardon did not refuse.
After the food and drink were served, the two chatted while drinking. Before Wayne could bring up the topic of Toussaint wine, Levardon took the initiative to ask, "Has Master O'Henry agreed to your request, Wayne?"
Wayne didn't beat around the bush; he told what happened in the morning, and at the same time asked sincerely, " Leverdon, do you have a channel to buy that wine? Or is there a channel to buy meteorite, moon dust, and demeritium metal?"
After hearing the words, after thinking about it for a few seconds, Revardon shook his head regretfully and said, "Sorry, Wayne, all I do is buy and sell bulk raw materials, such as those rare forging materials, which are not within my network."
He pondered for a few seconds and said, "However, if you want to buy a bottle of rare red wine, I can help. But I estimate that it will take at least two months from the time I send out the request, and then it will be specially transported from Toussaint. And the cost will be higher than the ones on the market. If you can accept it, I can help."
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