"Skullsplitter... I brought it back, Uncle. All these years, not a day went by when I didn't think about returning it."
"I was too young back then. I always wanted to prove to you that even without pure Dwarf blood, I could become a true warrior. I took the axe to the Northern Frontier and fought for over a decade, surviving one brush with death after another to earn this title. Not for glory, but so people would stop calling me a 'mongrel.'"
At the words "brush with death" and "mongrel," Bolin's anger faded.
In his own youth, he had traveled far and wide with a warhammer on his back. He understood the weight of an honor a warrior earned through blood and sweat.
Ola seized the opening, his voice turning urgent.
"Uncle, I came back to ask for your help! I need three Dwarven Wind Crossbows!"
Bolin's hand stopped wiping the cup, and his gaze grew serious.
"Wind crossbows are restricted weapons. What do you want them for?"
"For my friend, Weilin Klein!" Ola explained urgently. "His fief is being threatened by a level five magical beast. Thousands of lives are at stake! We've tried everything. Only wind crossbows can give us a chance to kill it!"
"A friend?" Bolin's voice brimmed with Dwarven skepticism.
"A human noble would consider a Half-Dwarf a friend? Ola, after all your years out in the world, do you still not understand? It's the axe in your hand he values!"
"No!" Ola clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked. "He's different! He..."
"No!" Bolin cut him off. "There are no wind crossbows. Even if there were, I wouldn't give them to you. They're masterpieces of Dwarven craftsmanship, not toys for you to use to curry favor with human nobles."
Ola's heart sank.
Once