Adamantine Ore

The Otherworldly Tracking Mastiff was a spirit beast from the Upper Planes. These small hounds were said to have inherited the bloodline of an ancient deity blessed by Fate. They had excellent sight and smell, but their most unusual trait was an innate intuition—something like a premonition of good fortune—that made them the finest companions for adventurers. Yet few had ever heard of anyone summoning these legendary creatures, and even most of the most learned Mages knew nothing about them. Aelf didn't recognize the beast either, but that didn't stop her from seeing through Sunderland's little trick of using a magic scroll as a cover.

With the Otherworldly Tracking Mastiff's abilities, the group found the Kobold lair with ease.

The Kobold cave lay in a small cavern far away. It took the group over an hour to reach it, according to Sunderland's magical timer. They couldn't imagine why the Kobolds had dug such a long passage when there was no rich ore deposit there—their lair was where the real deposits were. The narrow cave, dug by the Kobolds and less than three feet high, kept out all larger monsters and people except Kobolds. Only Mishaer could just barely crawl inside, but William would never let the little girl risk it.

"There's nothing inside! The Kobolds have moved out!" Sunderland said, wrinkling her nose as she directed the Tracking Mastiff inside to investigate. "The passage is narrow only near the entrance. It gets wider farther in. Should we go in?"

"Of course! I want to see how much good ore those vermin stole from me!" The one-eyed Dwarf greedily ran his hand over the rock wall by the entrance. It was an excellent open-pit mine—almost the entire wall was made of iron ore. The old fellow already considered it his own, and shamelessly branded the Kobolds who had occupied it as "thieves."

"But we should patrol the area first and scout out the monsters nearby. That's the priority!" Torg, the other Dwarf, objected, and the two Dwarves immediately started arguing. The others stood off to the side to watch the show, practically ready to pull up little stools. Singers had come for the ore, since Dwarves had long known that underground, there were almost always mineral veins near areas where Kobolds gathered. Torg was one of Mirabar's security chiefs, and had to protect the city. Sunderland was here to experience the life of an adventurer, and no matter how things turned out, Marquis Erastu Larim would claim his rightful share. William was the one-eyed Dwarf's "hired hand," while the little girl and the others were a "friends-and-family group" on a "publicly funded eating-and-drinking" trip, just tagging along.

Old Singers proved just how important it was to be prepared. The one-eyed Dwarf won the argument because he had brought a pickaxe for mining. The old fellow happily began hacking at the entrance with it.

Sunderland was cheerfully needling the Dwarf warrior who had lost the argument. "You should be ashamed of your blindness and your brainless words! You said, 'If you brought a pickaxe, I'd agree.' Didn't you see the pickaxe on the old fellow's back? You should be ashamed!" The female magistrate's gloating made Rammer so furious he nearly burst a blood vessel.

"Exactly! Exactly! You should be ashamed!" Aelf joined in, fanning the flames with her mischief. Mishaer, who thought it was funny, excitedly waved her little fist and cheered from the side.

"Shut up!" the nearly crazed Dwarf roared. His bloodshot eyes scared the two little ones away. "Damn it! Little Sunderland! What are you trying to say?"

The female magistrate covered her mouth and giggled. "Nothing! I just thought you were fun and wanted a laugh!" The Dwarf was so dumbfounded he saw black, then let out a furious roar and fainted from anger. The little girl, hiding behind William with her hands over her helmet, peeked out and asked, bewildered, "Oh! Why's chubby Torg asleep?" William burst out laughing.

The old Dwarf dug far too slowly. William and the others had already eaten twice, and Mishaer had even fallen asleep in her brother's arms, but the old fellow was still digging away with feverish enthusiasm. He wasn't making the entrance wider so much as digging a pit. After half a day, the entrance was barely any wider, but he had dug more than two feet into the wall, and the ore he'd excavated had piled up into a small hill. Torg stood off to one side, glaring and twitching his beard at the female magistrate. Sunderland ignored him and had claimed Mishaer's special Winter Wolf pelt, leaning back against it as she teased her summoned pet. The two little ones watched with envious, eager eyes, practically drooling—over the adorable pet, of course. Don't get the wrong idea.

Sunderland asked with a strange smile, "Do you like it?" The two little ones nodded like pecking chicks. "Would you like one of your own?" They nodded again, like bobbleheads. "Well..." Sunderland drew out the word and glanced between them, but her gaze settled on Mishaer. The little girl reflexively clamped both hands over her helmet and scampered back to William. Her sea-blue eyes looked at her brother pitifully. William helplessly rubbed the little head beneath her helmet and pinched her soft cheek. "You're impossible! All right! Your big brother will find you an even cuter little one!" Mishaer immediately ran back to watch the dog with a beaming smile, paying no attention to Sunderland's dejected expression.

William was at a loss for words over old Singers' "atrocious" behavior. He turned to Phinia, who was chewing on smoked meat. "Phinia! Lend me your axe!" Phinia smiled at him with her mouth full and picked up the Frost Giant Axe beside her, handing it over with one hand.

"Old Singers! Move aside!" William strode to the cave with the great axe held upside down. He focused his mind, spread his legs, gripped the haft with both hands, and swung hard. A large chunk of the iron-bearing wall came away as easily as a piece of wood. Then, as the others watched in horrified disbelief, William showed them what it meant to cut through iron like mud. The hard stone wall fell away beneath the great axe as if it were a sculpture made of soft clay. There wasn't even a spark when the axe struck a larger piece of ore.

For nearly half an hour, William was like a divine mountain-splitter, hacking out a passage nine feet high, six feet wide, and nearly twenty feet long. Covered in dust and aching all over, he staggered back to the resting spot, panting. Everyone hurried away from him as if he were a plague god. Mishaer sat there with her mouth open, staring at him too.

William grabbed a waterskin and gulped down its contents. Seeing everyone keeping their distance, he asked in confusion, "What's wrong with all of you? Is there something on me?" He wiped a layer of dust and mud two fingers thick from his forehead and muttered, "Oh! I am a little dirty."

Who cared whether he was clean or dirty? Sunderland laughed awkwardly, feeling guilty. "Ha ha! Heh? You are a little dirty! Ah! The weather's so nice today! The moon is so round!" The two Dwarves and Aelf chuckled and played along. Good grief! They were underground! Lady, where were the weather and the moon supposed to be?

Phinia stared stupidly at her axe, turning it over in her hands. Could it be the legendary divine artifact? Had she never noticed? William felt a little embarrassed as he watched the half-giantess inspect her weapon. The axe head was covered in scratches, and its edge had countless tiny chips. They were caused by William's inability to control his strength perfectly during the second half, when he had grown exhausted. It seemed he still had a long way to go before his strength was fully restored.

Leaving aside William's search for water to wash off the dust, followed by eating and recovering his strength, the silly Phinia picked up her great axe and walked into the passage. She gripped it with both hands and struck the edge of the stone wall with all her might. The deafening clang rang out, and the tearful giantess dropped the axe and came back out, her hands trembling. William heard the strange noise and hurried over to check. Phinia's palms had split, and her hands shook like the claws of a chicken having a seizure. At a loss between laughter and tears, William massaged the muscles and pressure points in the silly girl's arms, soothing her aching limbs and reassuring her as he went. Phinia crouched down like a child and leaned against him, sobbing. The scene should have been heartwarming, but it was infused with an absurdly sentimental air.

The others saw the funny scene and were no longer afraid of William. They grinned and pointed from the sidelines, while the little girl ran over to hug her brother's leg and join in.

The Kobold lair was narrow on the outside and wide within. After William's work, the original cave was now nearly five feet high. Everyone except the oversized Phinia could just about crawl inside.

The Kobold settlement had inherited the Goblins' tradition: filthy, messy, and stinking! Having a Mage around really did make many things much easier. Sunderland used Gust of Wind to blow out and replace the air inside the cave, of course releasing the spell under the cover of a scroll.

The Kobolds had moved out in a hurry. Weapons (Kobold type), ore, pickaxes, and all kinds of household goods lay scattered everywhere. After resting for half a day, William felt fully recovered. He picked up the great axe Phinia had dropped. The silly girl might have a hairline fracture in her hand, so she couldn't use heavy tools for now. Even after drinking a healing potion, she hadn't recovered as well as Aelf had when William first saw her use one. The great axe's edge had a chip about the size of a fingernail. William tried striking the same spot Phinia had hit. The moment the blade touched the wall, he sensed something was wrong: an extremely hard object suddenly appeared inside the stone, blocking the axe's advance.

William immediately held the haft loosely with both hands, twisted his body, and tapped the trembling grip several times with his fingers, dispelling the force that had bounced back. But the rebounding great axe flew out of control and slammed into the ground, where it gouged a foot-wide hole in the hard stone. Those few movements alone had used up nearly half the strength William had just regained. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and looked at Phinia's axe with a mournful expression. Half the size of his palm had broken off the entire blade of the Frost Giant Axe.

At that moment, old Singers, who had been rummaging through the Kobolds' ore hoard, suddenly cried out excitedly as he held up a fist-sized piece of purplish-black ore. "Heavens! Moradin almighty! Look at this! Torg! William! Look what old Singers found! Ha ha! Adamantine!"