Addition

Solving the [Wild Ox Force] cultivation problem that had been troubling him was a great cause for celebration. William believed that once he overcame this obstacle, his strength would make a tremendous leap forward. Compared to that, a minor aftereffect was nothing to worry about. It just meant Phinia would have to work a little harder and soothe her man's restless urges a bit more often.

Although William's transformation had alarmed everyone, the forging continued. Three days later, Aelf's rapier was finally finished. William had done most of the forging himself, and he had even lost more than a day dealing with his personal physical problems. But the gnome Nanfudo refused to work alongside him ever again. He would rather team up with the dwarves he hated most.

Even though only one person in his group was doing the heavy labor, William was still the main one hammering the Adamantine between the two groups. He worked so fast that he outpaced Singers and the other two combined. By the time the rapier was finished, the alloy axe haft was not even halfway done, because the dwarves had run into a problem. To keep the weight down, they had cut one of the Cold Star Iron bars in half, then paired one half with another bar weighing more than twenty pounds. They placed a thin strip of hammered Adamantine between the two and forged them together using a method similar to "sandwiching steel."

Because Adamantine and Cold Star Iron had such different properties, this was obviously no easy task. The worst part was that the two metals were difficult to fuse, and Singers and Torg were unwilling to trust Nanfudo—the only one who could solve the problem. In the end, the difficulty fell to William.

The poor gnome nervously returned to William's side, but whenever William swung his hammer, he scurried far away.

After they added the refined solvent Nanfudo had specially prepared (which was actually a ready-made potion the gnome had stolen from the alchemists' advisory group's laboratory), the forging of the alloy haft finally got on track. When the axe haft began shifting from orange-red to golden-red, Singers made a request of William.

"William! I think we need more hands! The few of us can't possibly manage such a huge workload!" the one-eyed dwarf said solemnly.

"I can't believe you brought it up first! Ha! A half-bearded dwarf! This is the first time I've ever seen a dwarf admit defeat!" The naturally cheerful gnome, who always seemed carefree, took the opportunity to taunt him. The dwarf immediately fired back, and the two started arguing again.

"Both of you, quiet!" William shouted, stopping them. He turned to the dwarf with a serious expression. "Are you certain, my friend?"

After Singers confirmed that he was, William thought for a while before saying, "All right, then! When Torg and Sunderland come by tonight, we'll discuss together who we should bring on."

That evening, Sunderland and Torg arrived at the forge. The group discussed bringing in more help. It was no small matter: it involved the source of their valuable Adamantine, as well as the even more important Adamantine mine. Anyone they invited had to be trustworthy.

"We can't hire locals," Sunderland said first. "Most of them have already been corrupted by money and wealth. We can't tell who we can trust and who might give in to temptation."

"But outsiders are even less trustworthy! They're a bunch of opportunists and thieves! If they find out about the Adamantine, things will turn out even worse!" Torg, who was in charge of the city's security, objected.

Singers had been quiet ever since the discussion began, despite being the one who had first proposed bringing in more help. Now he spoke up. "I do know someone who might be suitable! He's absolutely trustworthy!"

"Who?" Everyone turned to look at the one-eyed dwarf.

Singers swallowed and said, "Buster Bracer! An excellent dwarf craftsman! He's neither a merchant nor a typical Mirabarran, all slick and greedy. I think he and his clan would be a good choice!"

"You mean that wandering dwarf from the Battlehammer Clan! He's skilled, but I can't bring myself to trust him. How can anyone rely on such a down-and-out fellow? Come to think of it, the Battlehammer Clan's king visited Mirabar a few months ago. William, that oddball adventuring party traveled with you for a while, didn't they?" Torg said, stroking his bushy beard.

Nanfudo chimed in, too. "Dwarves are the least trustworthy people around! Second only to humans!"

"Shut up, gnome!" The gnome's words had incurred everyone's wrath, and he shrank back into silence.

Singers defended the craftsman they were considering inviting. "Buster had lost hope of returning to his far-off homeland. But ever since he heard that the Dwarf King had left Icewind Dale, he's started to pull himself together! There's no conflict between him and us!"

"But—"

William stopped Torg from arguing further. He exchanged a glance with Sunderland, then made his decision. "All right! Singers, you're responsible for persuading Buster to join us! Does anyone else have anything to say?"

Sunderland shook her head. "I have some other news. Do you want to hear it? It's about King Bruenor Battlehammer and his friends! We've had word from Nesme that Bruenor and his adventuring party entered the Trollmoors a month ago. What a reckless bunch! William, they're your friends, aren't they?"

William answered vaguely, "You could say that." He couldn't help thinking of that Drow with the impressive knife skills. Meeting another expert who used a blade in this world was a pleasant surprise. He didn't care much about the other three; the only one who'd really stuck in his mind was the foul-tempered dwarf he'd kicked. And not in a good way.

Buster Bracer was a destitute old dwarf, a drunk who would probably have ended up as scattered bones chewed to bits by some hyena if not for a few of his kin looking after him. Buster didn't want to huddle in the cold, remote Icewind Dale like King Bruenor. He would rather die at the hands of the monsters occupying his homeland, on his own native soil. Back when Mithral Hall fell, he and several companions responsible for exploring the underground passages had accidentally made their way into Mirabar's Underdark.

Buster couldn't find a route home on the surface, but he knew there was a tunnel through Mirabar's Underdark that connected to Mithral Hall. That was why he and several of his clanmates, who refused to go to Icewind Dale, had stayed here. But the damned Mirabar Council had closed the tunnel and forbidden anyone from going near it.

Not long ago, Buster had heard that the Battlehammer Clan's Dwarf King had left Icewind Dale and found several powerful companions. Buster had always thought Bruenor was a despicable coward, but he was still overjoyed to hear that his clan's king had set out on the road home. There were also some less flattering rumors—for example, that Bruenor and his three companions had been defeated by some boy in his teens, and that the Dwarf King had been badly beaten. If anyone dared mention that in front of Buster Bracer, the furious old dwarf would shove their head back up their own ass.

There was something else that left old Buster deeply regretful. When Bruenor had come to Mirabar to treat his injuries, the old fellow had been dead drunk at a tavern and missed his chance to meet the Dwarf King. Otherwise, he would have joined Bruenor's party without a moment's hesitation. But by the time Buster sobered up, the Companions of Icewind Dale had already been gone for several days.

Consumed by regret, Buster resolved not to touch another drop of ale until he returned to Mithral Hall. But when night came, the old dwarf couldn't resist the temptation of liquor and decided he would have just one keg a day instead. The five clanmates who had volunteered to keep an eye on him firmly put a stop to that. The Battlehammer dwarves were very worried about Buster's drinking habit.

The other dwarf in Mirabar who also loved to drink was Singers. The one-eyed dwarf had met Buster in a tavern while the two were competing to see who could drink the most, and they had become drinking buddies ever since. They were both idle, both resentful of Mirabar's leaders, and, of course, both fond of drink.

When Singers went to invite Buster, the dwarf was fighting his companions for a keg of ale and refused without hesitation. Buster regretted his vow of sobriety every day and fought his companions for the right to drink. Of course, he lost every time. But when Singers told him that one of the smiths was a "friend" of a Dwarf King, old Buster and his companions were tempted.

"William? You mean that bastard the rumors say beat Bruenor? Damn him! I'll tear his head off and kick it around like a ball! How could the great Dwarf King lose to some snot-nosed kid who can't even grow a beard? Old Buster'll pound him into meatloaf! Otherwise, I'm a bearded gnome!" After hearing about William, Buster blustered furiously, his beard bristling. The other five Battlehammer dwarves were just as eager for a fight. They dragged the one-eyed dwarf along and hurried out of the city, heading through the underground passages, of course.

Trying to challenge that freak William? Singers tried to talk them out of it, but he couldn't persuade the stubborn Battlehammer dwarves. He couldn't help worrying about what would happen to Buster and the others. After spending some time with William, Singers and the others had gained a deep understanding of his inhuman strength. He was amazed that only one of the Companions of Icewind Dale had been injured in their fight with William. Although Sunderland had confirmed with a spell of recognition that William really was human, Singers still suspected he was a dragon or some other powerful creature in disguise. After all, there were plenty of ways in the world to make magic fail or go wrong—and dwarves didn't trust magic all that much anyway.

William was baffled by the inexplicable hostility of the six angry, bearded dwarves. It was a bit of a nuisance, but they weren't any real trouble for him. He would need their help later, so he held back. Under the pitying gazes of Torg and the others, Buster and his five companions were kicked and tossed around like six old sacks, then ended up sprawled on the ground, dazed and groaning. The gnome crouched nearby, making snide remarks.

"Oh, how pitiful! You actually dared to provoke that terrifying fellow—and you even made it out alive in one piece! I'm truly amazed! Hahaha! What a fine bunch of dwarves! Prairie dogs! Hahaha! Ugh!" Old Buster, rolling his eyes, spat a bloody mouthful of saliva. Nanfudo doubled over and retched on the ground, and peace finally returned.