Knight: from Apprentice to the Almighty

Roland couldn’t help but furrow his brow upon hearing this.

He wasn’t entirely ignorant of the social structure in the Dwarf Realm.

It was somewhat similar to the aristocratic system of the Golden Valley Kingdom, also dividing people into strict classes.

But while you could at least earn a title through military merit in the Golden Valley Kingdom, the class barriers in the Dwarf Realm were far more rigid.

They relied on an almost ossified caste system.

The class a person was born into virtually determined the entire course of their life, with almost no possibility of moving up.

And Griffin’s words revealed another key piece of information.

The Authority held by the Dwarf Royal Family was far greater and more absolute than that of human nobles.

’Do even highly skilled Master Forgers have to survive at the mercy of the Royal Family...?’

Roland thought to himself, shaking his head helplessly before speaking tentatively.

"Then... Master Griffin, what about... an Enchanter?"

"An Enchanter?"

Griffin looked up.

"That’s right."

Noticing no surprise in Griffin’s eyes, Roland raised an eyebrow and pressed on.

"Could one acquire those rare metals by leveraging the status of an Enchanter?"

"Kid..."

Griffin narrowed his eyes.

"I don’t know where you heard about Enchanters, but..."

The word "Enchanter" seemed to stir a memory in Griffin.

The stout Dwarf didn’t press the matter, just let out a heavy sigh and waved his hand dejectedly.

"Back in the day? Maybe. An Enchanter might have actually been treated as an honored guest by those sons of bitches in the Royal Family. The ones in power back then had clearer heads. But now? Hmph..."

He smacked his lips, tasting the lingering alcohol, his voice tinged with a hint of powerlessness.

"To be honest with you, just a year ago, maybe even earlier, a few Enchanters appeared in the Dwarf Realm. But even with their exquisite skills, those bastards didn’t give them the time of day!"

"So, even if you really are some Enchanter..."

Griffin’s tone was thick with sarcasm.

"If you want to get your hands on those treasures, you’ll probably have to wag your tail like a lapdog just to get a few pathetic pieces in return..."

As he spoke, a faint glimmer of reminiscence flashed in the Dwarf Master Forger’s eyes, only to be replaced by weariness.

He waved his hand dismissively, as if shooing away a fly.

"Alright, kid, I’ve still got work to do here. You’ve held me up long enough..."

"I understand, Master Griffin. Thank you for your answers."

Hearing the dismissive tone in the Dwarf’s voice, Roland abandoned the idea of revealing his identity as an Enchanter.

He gave a slight bow and turned to leave the room.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Roland’s brow furrowed even deeper.

He had originally hoped to use his status as an Enchanter to open doors, especially to acquire those rare metals.

But Griffin’s words were like a bucket of cold water.

In the Dwarf Realm, the title of "Enchanter" seemed to have lost its former weight.

He sighed helplessly.

Before coming to the Blacksmith Guild, while helping Hobbit ask for leave, he had already inquired with Nelson.

Even with the Merchant Faction of the River Domain’s flexible diplomatic tactics, they couldn’t find any stable channel to acquire Mithril or refined gold.

In the Dwarf Realm, these metals had clearly become some sort of strictly controlled strategic resource. They were only given out symbolically, a few pieces at a time, to celebrate major festivals or to demonstrate friendly relations between nations.

At this thought, Roland’s hand subconsciously drifted to the hilt of the Secret Silver Longsword at his waist.

It seemed the value of this sword was far greater than he had initially imagined.

’Ordinary metals can’t withstand surging Magic Power... It seems the only way to get rare metals might be to inquire at the Adventurer Guild as an A Level Adventurer Group...’

Just as he was lost in thought, the sound of heavy footsteps interrupted him.

Looking up, he saw Noel walking toward him.

Seeing Roland, the Dwarf’s face broke into a warm smile.

This smile was different from the one he wore when receiving customers; it lacked the professional courtesy and had a touch more genuine sincerity.

"Mr. Roland."

"Oh, it’s you, Noel..."

"Thank you for what you did earlier."

Noel bowed slightly, then lowered his voice.

"I happened to overhear... you need Mithril? Please forgive my forwardness..."

Noticing Roland’s gaze on him, Noel quickly waved his hands and explained.

"I didn’t mean to eavesdrop! It’s just..."

He pointed to his own ears, then gestured with his chin toward Griffin’s closed door. The meaning couldn’t be clearer.

With Griffin’s thunderous voice, it would have been difficult *not* to hear everything clearly.

But Roland didn’t mind. The implication in Noel’s tone made his eyes light up, and he asked softly,

"Noel, from the sound of it... do you have a way to get these rare metals?"

"To be honest with you..."

Noel scratched his head, looking a little embarrassed.

"My family in the Dwarf Realm manages the mining of a Secret Silver Ore vein. Besides the whole ores that are handed over to the Royal Family, our daily operations always leave some... ah... scraps."

Seeing Roland’s expression, the well-mannered Dwarf quickly added,

"Don’t get me wrong! These scraps aren’t worthless dregs. It’s just... the quality isn’t top-notch, and the pieces are smaller."

Noel’s meaning couldn’t have been clearer.

Roland’s heart beat a little faster, but his face remained impassive as he asked calmly,

"If that’s the case... why haven’t you sold them to someone else? I imagine..."

A faint smile touched the corners of his lips as his sharp gaze locked onto Noel.

"Even if the quality is a bit lower, something like Mithril should never be short of buyers, right?"

"To tell you the truth, Mr. Roland..."

Noel shook his head gently.

"The quantity of these scraps is very small, and... the art of refining Mithril is known only to the Dwarves. So, there aren’t actually many people who both recognize its value and are willing to buy it."

Roland nodded in understanding, no longer beating around the bush.

"Then let’s be direct, Noel. What price must I pay to get these Mithril scraps?"

Instead of looking pleased by such a direct question, Noel’s face showed a hint of unease.

But remembering the instructions from his father and older brother, the Dwarf’s cheeks reddened slightly. He unconsciously rubbed his fingers together, his voice apologetic.

"Just... just coins will be fine, Mr. Roland."

This request made Roland raise an eyebrow slightly.

He had expected the other party to take the opportunity to make some harsh demands, but he was surprised it was just for money.

Although they hadn’t discussed the price yet, he knew in his heart that for Mithril, which was held in an iron grip by the Dwarf Royal Family, the price would be anything but low, even for scraps.

However, for him right now, that wasn’t a problem.

’Just coins...’

Roland had already made up his mind, but he still feigned contemplation.

"That shouldn’t be too difficult, but... I’ll need to see if the scraps meet my requirements first."

"You can rest assured about that!"

Seeing Roland agree, Noel let out a long breath of relief. It was clear that making this kind of private deal made him very uncomfortable.

"I’ll notify my family and have them send over a few samples for you to inspect. After you’ve confirmed the quality of the material, we can talk price."

"Alright!"

Watching the Dwarf’s clumsy negotiation attempt, Roland chuckled, nodded, and extended his hand.

"Then it’s a deal, Noel. A pleasure doing business with you."