Ultimate Level 1-Chapter 414: A Simple Request

Max shifted under the gaze of the woman he hoped would help him. She didn’t appear very happy when he walked into her shop, but he at least hadn’t been kicked out for now.

“You do realize how difficult you have made my life… every day I have some fool come in here, asking me to create something for them like what you had. Gone are the easy days of getting only one or two absurd requests every month or so. Now I must deal with it at least twice or thrice a week! A WEEK!”

Buwingrid’s oversized fist slammed down onto the stone counter she was standing behind. The pair of dwarven girls who were helping other patrons on the other side of their shop didn’t seem to react at all, unlike the mantis and badgerkin who jumped slightly.

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a grin. “So what you’re telling me is that business has been good.”

“Good? GOOD!? It’s been phenomenal, but I haven’t had time to get a proper beard washing or massage in over two months! Do you know what that does to a dwarf?”

Max could see she was smiling, even if her red beard did a great job of hiding it, but her cheeks had moved upward.

He tried not to focus on how dry her beard looked compared to the last time he could remember it.

A bottle appeared in his hand, and he held it out to her.

“One of my alchemist friends from another world created this. The two dwarves, one of which is my half-brother, swear by it for their beards.”

Her head cocked to the side and a bushy red eyebrow rose as she stared at him, both silver eyes moving between the gift he was offering and his face.

“Half-brother?”

“Well, technically, we’re full brothers. Did the blood ceremony and all,” Max replied. “Still, he’s ugly, so I tell everyone we’re half brothers to not make them think worse of me.”

Buwingrid broke out in laughter, pounding the stone counter a few more times, her face beginning to match the color of her hair as she shook her head.

“He must be a special one to put up with someone like you. A pink skin… a brother to a dwarf. I was certain I had heard everything, but now…”

She took the jar from his hand and unscrewed it, sniffed it and then dipped a fingertip in it, sticking it in her mouth.

“Uh… I don’t think you’re supposed to eat it.”

“I know, but don’t think I’m just going to randomly put something on my beard without tasting it first,” Buwingrid replied. “You don’t know how important a beard is until you see someone use some magical cream and make all their hair fall out or get kinky.”

The weapon crafter’s face scrunched, and Max could only imagine what she was thinking about or remembering.

“So, I have a favor,” he said as she began to rub a little bit of the paste between two fingers.

“I’m sure you do,” muttered the dwarf as she slowly put a little bit on the edge of her beard and worked it in. “This one of those conversations out front or one of those conversations in the back?”

“Oh most definitely in the back. I’m pretty certain I don’t need you acting like some doe-eyed young dwarf and promising me anything I want around those two after we talk.”

Buwingrid’s gaze narrowed, and her fingers froze from where she massaged her beard.

“I’m going to pretend that for a moment you think I’d be interested in someone as hairless as you.”

Laughing, Max shrugged and motioned to the door he knew led to the forge.

“Remember those words in a moment. I’m sure you’ll wish you had never spoken them.”

***

A soft moan escaped Buwingrid’s lips as she stood there, panting and all flushed.

“You… Max Hoste… have no idea how right you were.”

Laughing, he nodded and patted his necklace.

“I’m just glad your mom wasn’t here.”

“By Ockrim’s beard you’re right. She would have forced you to give that to her.”

Shaking her head and taking a deep breath, the weaponsmith cleared her throat.

“So… a token from a dwarven god. I know of a few and can’t say I’ve ever met them, rules and all.”

“So they can’t come here?”

Buwingrid shook her head as she straightened her beard and pulled out an oversized sheet of paper.

“No. Gods aren’t allowed to come to this world. I could return to my own and try to see one, but if I’m honest, that’s not something that would work for me. The cost to even visit his temple and request an audience would most likely take all the treasure I have earned. Unless of course, the Queen herself desired to do such a thing for me, but that won’t happen.”

“Because?”

“I’m a nobody. I mean, I’m skilled with creating weapons, but there are hundreds like me all over the world I’m from. Maybe I could tell you about it one day, but I don’t think we have time if you’re fighting tomorrow.”

“That’s what I like about you; you are always focused on crafting.”

“Bah, I’d tell you to go hump yourself with a request like what you’re wanting but after showing me that token I’m kind of obligated to help out. Still a bit upset you won’t trade it.”

“You and every dwarf including the King and Queen from my world.”

Nodding, Buwingrid didn’t reply, bending down and making a few sketches on the paper.

Max now realized what she was doing as she drew, marking it with runes and imbuing some mana into it.

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“What does that paper do? I mean… before I thought when you sketched it and marked stuff with me it was just for a guide, but now I see that it’s not.”

Her right eyebrow raised as she glanced up at him before shaking her head and returning to her sketching.

“One day I’ll learn how a pink skin knows so much about all this… but yes, you’re right. This paper isn’t just paper. It’s a part of the crafting process. By drawing it out, making marks on it, laying the runes out early it allows me to cheat the crafting process a little bit and speed up certain things. Of course, the cost gets passed on to you as I have to order these from a different world, and they ain’t cheap.”

If we could get some of those, it would help us in what we eventually want to do with that dragon tooth. Imagine what we could craft with one if we were able to lay out everything beforehand.

But could we even design it yet? I mean… a Fire Forged bar has some use. I think this token I’m holding can be used in crafting. We both know that a power core would be a boon. Yet with all those pieces, I’m not sure we still have all the necessary items to craft it. Besides, I think my skill is still too low to do it justice.

All I hear is blah blah blah. You’re standing across from a dwarf with more crafting knowledge than you. She just happens to have tools and parts that would be beneficial for us to have. And now you’re balking at asking her how much to buy one?

Maybe she’ll just let me see one.

A groan came from Bob, but his skill didn’t reply.

“Do you have one of those I can buy or just borrow for a bit?”

Buwingrid’s pencil froze, and she frowned as she put her writing tool down and stood upright.

“Didn’t you just hear what I said?”

“I did. How much for one?”

“Before we talk about that, tell me your crafting skill level.”

Max blinked a few times and smacked his lips.

“What happened to a little privacy? Are you going to tell me yours?”

“Sure, after you go first,” she replied, putting both of her hands against the stone counter and leaning against them.

Taking a moment, he considered her question and then grinned.

“So which one do you want me to share first?”

Buwingrid originally had a smirk on her face, which quickly vanished, and her right eyebrow was doing its usual dance of rising when she was caught off guard by his comment.

“Which one… just how many do you have?”

“Now… that seems like you should go first, and then I’ll go second.”

Crossing her arms, the dwarf frowned.

“Are we talking actual metal crafting skills and not some stupid other one like baking or cooking?”

Grabbing his chest as if he had been stabbed, Max feigned an injury.

A second later, a cardboard box appeared in his hand and he opened it, pulling out a treat he had acquired from one of the Dagon’s bakers.

“Is that… beer?”

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

“That it is,” Max replied with a grin. “The King of the Dwarves on my world did me a favor when I helped with my brother's wedding. We made beer-infused cupcakes. They have two different flavors of ale infused in them. The cake part is a dark, bitter one, and the cream on top is a sweet and light ale.”

Closing the lid and pulling the box back slowly, he grinned.

“Of course, baking isn’t a real skill, so I mean why–”

“I got 13!”

He felt his eyes blinking rapidly as he took in that number, not realizing for a moment that Buwingrid was holding out her hand, motioning to the box.

Handing it to her, he watched as she pulled out the cupcake and sniffed it a few times before using her finger to carefully get a little bit of the frosting and taste it.

“Oh… I’m going to have to save this, or I’ll gobble it up right now like an oversized orc.”

After she had set it back in the box and stored it, she turned and motioned with her hand.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“How many crafting skills do you have?”

“Counting or not counting baking?”

Rolling her eyes, Buwingrid waved her hand in the air.

“Gods, I don’t care.”

“Eight with baking, seven without.”

Snorting, the dwarf shook her head and studied him, stroking her beard a little as she did.

“You’re serious. Eight crafting skills? And you’re a fighter, magic user, and Ockrim knows what else?”

“You asked, and I need you to trust me when I tell you I need one of these papers and want to know the cost.”

Cursing under her breath about some creature called a yorkaol and how it does something he guessed was inappropriate, Buwingrid rubbed her eyes momentarily.

“What can you offer? I do not doubt that you'll have plenty of tokens if you get access to the vault again. Those are great, but we both know what I really want.”

Max nodded and pulled out two teeth from Igarra, holding one in each hand.

“This should be more than enough,” he said, twirling the three-foot-long pieces.

“It should… but I need one more.”

Frowning, he nodded and put both down on the counter and pulled out another, carefully stacking it on top of the pair.

“You sure seem like you’re getting the better end of this deal.”

“Bah, I’m the one who will be working all night. Besides, you’re getting a rush job, custom-made, and all I’m getting out of it are some dragon teeth, a couple of scales, some tokens, and a promise to make my life richer when you win.”

“Stop acting like a drama elf,” Max replied. “We both know you’re going to bet on me and make a killing. Besides, if you don’t, I’ll pull out this token and have you follow me around town for a month.”

A squeak came from her throat as whatever retort she appeared to have got caught inside it.

Coughing, she shook her head and held out her hand, a rolled-up piece of paper in it.

“Take your prize, and now tell me what your rank is. For weaponcrafting.”

“Which one?” Max asked with a wink.

Her palm slapped herself in the face as she groaned.

“Ockrim, I’m so not getting enough love for helping this fool.”

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