Past Memories Like Smoke

"Daogen, get this gentleman another fifty suits of Number Nine leather armor." Seeing that he could no longer fool him, Nigen's expression immediately fell, and his voice turned listless.

"Then add twenty swords? I'm quite familiar with Lord Sauron of the Augustus family." Richard began pushing his luck, habitually trying to squeeze out a little extra.

Nigen folded his arms and said nothing, merely sneering and rolling his eyes at him.

A gnome's eyes were large and vacant, much like those of a dead fish. That eye roll landed with considerable force.

The dwarf smiths shouted work chants as they carried out several heavy wooden crates together. After prying out the nails and opening the lids with crowbars, they revealed weapons buried in straw.

"Whoa." Richard hooked up a spear with his foot and carefully examined it in his hands.

Dwarf smiths were masters at forging weapons. Even these relatively ordinary mid-grade pieces had clearly received much care, something obvious the moment he held one.

The spear and javelin used the same type of head, differing only slightly in size. The finely crafted, sinister four-sided pyramidal tip of forged steel would leave a diamond-shaped wound in flesh that was extremely difficult to heal. Its surface had been deliberately given a matte finish, making it no more eye-catching than the inferior weapons used by country militiamen.

Young noblemen certainly would not like this approach, since it offered no chance to show off during hunts. But true experts knew that a biting dog did not bother barking. It was precisely these plain, unflashy weapons that were most deadly on the battlefield.

With a flick of his wrist, he spun the spear, and the single shaft scattered dozens of afterimages before his eyes, turning Nigen pale with fright.

Grinning, Richard pointed at a harmless cockroach on the shelf. It had been pierced into a sticky smear, yet the sharp angular tip had not harmed the wood behind it.

The flourish was flashy to the point of showing off, and the barbarian warriors and nearby onlookers all clapped and burst into cheers.

Putting down the spear, Richard found its balance quite suitable.

Ordinary folk might think a weapon only needed to be hard and sharp to count as good, but a little tyrant of the fighting arena like him was not so naive. Grip, weight, balance, and design all had to work together. Any flaw meant it was no better than street-stall junk.

This steel spear was naturally inferior to a custom-made high-end weapon, but it was still better than he had expected.

"As expected of dwarf-made goods."

Richard did not stint on his praise. "I rarely saw dwarf weapons back in Southern Province, so I thought human smiths were not bad either. Now I have to say that when it comes to working metal, smiths of other races simply cannot compare to the dwarves' innate talent."

Nigen had been leaning over the counter, fiddling with counting rods. The gleaming gold coins entering his accounts had put the gnome in a fine mood. Upon hearing those words, he suddenly tossed down a coin, raised his head halfway, and stared directly at Richard.

"Innate talent? Ha, we gnomes... Forget it, forget it. What would you know?" Nigen waved a hand without interest, sighed, and walked out from behind the counter.

"Close the shop."

The servants and smiths immediately began driving customers out without a word. Those who had not finished shopping protested loudly, but they could not stand against the bull-like strength of the dwarves and were all thrown outside.

Richard stood outside with the barbarians, and they looked at one another in complete confusion.

Could it be that this gnome had once loved a dwarf whose smithing was terrible?

The customers driven out were resentful toward Richard for angering Nigen. By the usual rules, this sort of thing called for a sound beating. They gathered with hostile expressions, then looked at the size of that band of barbarians... and for some reason, felt much calmer.

Forget it. They could come back tomorrow.

Richard led the band of barbarians back in grand fashion to the shop where he had bought supplies earlier.

The ordered goods filled a full six carts, and they still needed drivers and guards before they could set off. He asked the merchant about it and was told that manpower was tight, so he should wait patiently for a while.

Gunther, bruised and swollen, dropped onto a cart and could not stop complaining. "Boss, my whole body hurts like hell now. You really hit too hard."

"Yeah, Boss." The other barbarians immediately chimed in. "Beating Gunther up was one thing, but beating him for that long really was a bit much."

"Enough, enough. Shut up, all of you." Richard pulled two apples from a sack beside him and hurled one hard at Gunther's head. "I wanted to put you in your place in case you refused to accept me. What about it, huh?"

"We Highlanders have always followed whoever has the biggest fists. What's there to accept or not accept?" At the sight of food, Gunther's aches and pains instantly vanished. He casually caught the murderous apple with one hand, took a few bites, and left only the core before tossing it onto the road.

Seeing how deliciously the fellow ate, Richard assumed it tasted good. He took a huge bite himself and nearly had his eyebrows soured off.

With nothing else to do, he pulled a knight novel from his pocket and began reading. It was called "Knight Abin," and it had become wildly popular among the common folk of Pompeii in recent years.

"Although Abin's martial skills were poor..."

Richard quickly immersed himself in quiet reading, wandering alone through the sea of knowledge as he became increasingly absorbed.

"Boss! Boss!" Gunther called several times without getting a response, becoming even more impressed by his lord, such a cultured man who could read and write and was so devoted to books.

"Ahem, what is it?" Richard wiped away his drool, rolled up the book, and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Someone's looking for you."

After glancing around, he spotted an especially short figure standing not far away, staring straight at Richard.

"Nigen, you came looking for me?" He remembered this gnome weapons merchant, whose attempt to cheat him out of money had failed.

The barbarian warriors around him moved aside to let him through. Surrounded by the tall barbarians, the already short gnome seemed especially tiny.

"Yes." Nigen held a longsword in his arms. Limited by his height, he could only hold one end while letting the other drag along the ground.

"Something wrong?"

"I thought about it for a long time. I feel that letting such a fine sword remain buried in a smithy would simply be a crime. It has a place where it belongs." Nigen lovingly stroked the hilt before finally handing it to Richard with extreme reluctance.

Under the dim light of the setting sun, the gnome merchant's face seemed to carry a trace of loneliness.

"For me?" He gripped the scabbard and smoothly drew the blade halfway. The faintly purple reflection confirmed that it was indeed his Dragon Slayer.

"This is worth at least several hundred gold coins. Are you sure?" Richard usually loved taking small advantages with his words, but whenever a real advantage was placed before him, he often began worrying that he could not justify it morally.

In the homeland he could never return to, such behavior was deeply despised. It was called wanting to be a whore while still wanting a memorial arch.

"You still have to repay the money. If you can't, then bring the sword back."

With a bad-tempered snort, the gnome took out a tiny brass pipe and lit a pouch of tobacco.

Regretting the thought of a fine sword being buried away was more like the behavior of dwarf smiths. Sometimes they would rather lose money than fail to give a good weapon to the right person. Smiths believed that works into which they had poured their heart and effort possessed life.

Though gnomes were close relatives of dwarves, they were known for being shrewd, calculating, and miserly, born to regard gold as life itself. In their eyes, being unable to pay meant being worthless. Whether a treasured sword suited a hero was entirely irrelevant.

"I once dreamed of becoming Ironforge's greatest smith. Once. But in the end, I could not advance beyond apprentice." Nigen spread his hands and sighed helplessly. "Gnomes aren't strong enough."

"I understand. My own life plan used to be to become a geometer." Richard flexed his arm and stared at his well-developed bicep with a complicated expression.

The two silently shared a pouch of tobacco, nodded to each other in farewell, and parted ways.