Today's update was a little late, and there wasn't an extra chapter either. I, Jiaoshou, apologize for that. Depending on how things go, I'll try to find time to make up for it tomorrow. I went to pick someone up today, then started drinking after I got back. I had a few drinks and hurried to write afterward, which led to the current situation. Please bear with me.
"Your Highness," Aoth said, bowing respectfully when he saw who had arrived.
Aoth was deeply grateful to Rex. His accomplishments owed much to Rex's support. Without Rex, he would still have been a Forging Artisan rather than a Smithing Grandmaster. A saying was widespread among the Dwarves: masters were easy to find, but grandmasters were rare. Put simply, becoming a master was relatively straightforward. With some talent, diligent practice, and no slacking off, a dwarf could acquire the skills of a Forging Artisan by spending roughly three hundred years of his long life at the forge.
Three hundred years sounded like an extraordinarily long time. To humans, it truly was. Twenty years could be considered a generation, and after fifty years or so, the older generation would have aged and finally turned to dust. Who knew how many human generations would pass in three hundred years? By the usual reckoning, it would be close to ten. For a dwarf, however, those three hundred years were merely the span in which he went from youth to maturity.
For elves, whether Night Elves or High Elves, that span of time amounted to almost nothing. For Dwarves, three hundred years was not an impossibly long wait either.
Dwarven smithing was renowned throughout the world, unrivaled in Azeroth. The chief reason was time. Humans could not compete. Very few humans became Forging Artisans, and Smithing Grandmasters