制服丝袜第一页在线影院

Chapter 395 395-A Day in the Tavern

"I'll go call Greg; he's probably still in the forge."

"I'll head on then," Antalya nodded, stepping ahead while Howard made his way towards the forge.

Approaching, Howard could already hear the clear, ringing sounds of metalwork emanating from within.

He couldn't help but smile.

Dwarves, once engrossed in a task, tend to become oblivious to the outside world.

Greg had previously spent days on end lost in his work in the forge.

Perhaps it was this very focus that crafted the Dwarves' hands into tools that even gods would marvel at.

Dwarves excel in nearly all manual crafts.

Except for cooking.

Well... perhaps musical instruments as well.

Howard recalled the itinerant Dwarf band performing at the tavern earlier today.

Knocking on the door yielded no response, as expected.

Howard chuckled, knowing if it weren't for him, the traditional Dwarf might end up missing his meal again.

Pushing open the door, he was greeted by a wave of heat.

Flames roared within the furnace, heating a piece of metal to a glowing red.

Though still roughly shaped, Howard could tell it was the beginnings of a blade, not the agricultural tools Greg had mentioned earlier.

Howard wasn't surprised; privately forging blades wasn't a matter of concern here.

After inquiring around, he learned that due to the prevalence of adventurers in the area, there was no regulation on weapons.

Greg stood in front of the furnace, gripping a large forging hammer.

Despite his not-so-imposing stature, he was a pure-blooded Dwarf, inheriting immense strength as a gift from his forefathers.

Holding the bellows in one hand, Greg silently observed the iron bar on the furnace, watching it heat up to the verge of melting.

Then, Greg moved.

It started with the force in his calves, traveling through his thighs, amplifying through his waist with a second surge of power.

The two forces merged, channeling through his arms, as the hammer suddenly sprang into motion, gracefully arcing down to strike the iron bar with a heavy thud!

Ding—!

Ding—!

Ding—!

The interrupted rhythm of hammering resumed, now quicker and sharper than before.

"Help me with the bellows!"

Greg spoke calmly, his tone markedly cooler than the persona he displayed during the day, almost like a different person.

Howard grimaced, having only come to call him for dinner, not expecting to be drafted into manual labor.

Still, he quickly took his place at the bellows.

Although not a blacksmith or a forge master, he understood that insufficient furnace temperature during forging could lead to disastrous outcomes.

Moreover, he was curious about Greg's forging skills.

If they proved impressive, he might consider recruiting the Dwarf to his own kingdom.

Whoosh—!

Whoosh—!

Whoosh—!

The bellows were heavy, but for Howard, they posed no significant challenge.

He surmised that, despite racial bonuses, Greg's strength might not surpass his own.

After all, he was battle-hardened and had recently regained some of his manas.

The flames in the furnace flared up again, and Greg's hammering became more frequent.

With one hand, he also used tongs to rotate the iron bar, striking it at various points.

He worked tirelessly for what seemed like an age until the iron bar under Greg's hand had completely changed its shape, marking the end of this forging session.

Greg moved the now barely discernible silhouette of a longsword, with its edge, spine, and graceful arc, into a continuously burning low-temperature furnace.

"Alright, that concludes the forging of this sword for now. Time for dinner... Oh, Howard, you came to call me for dinner, didn't you? Ended up making you work."

Greg washed his hands in a bucket and hung his apron on the wall.

"But your strength doesn't seem typical for someone your age. You kept up with my pace quite easily, seemed rather effortless. Quite impressive stamina you've got!"

"Heh, I've always been a bit stronger than my peers, sort of a natural-born strength," Howard quipped casually.

"Never mind that, let's go eat... Though at this hour, I guess we're probably left with just cold dishes."

"How about this? I've got a few bottles of good wine stashed away. How about I bring them out for you to try?"

"Are you sure? Weren't those brought from your homeland?"

Howard recalled Antalya mentioning that Greg had always treasured a few bottles of wine he had brought with him when he left his homeland.

"No worries, after we drink them, I can just have my family send over a few more bottles."

With that, Greg headed towards the back room.

"Wait outside for a bit; let me tidy up here."

"Sure." Howard responded, washing his hands in the bucket before turning to leave the forge.

The sky had completely darkened, and the moon had risen, casting a crescent glow.

Howard found himself thinking back to that night on the plains.

Speaking of which, the White Wolf King had vanished.

Why was that? He had only left it gravely wounded.

Unable to arrive at any conclusion, Howard simply gave up thinking and focused on waiting for Greg to come out.

That's when he noticed a figure standing in the darkness.

A slender figure with shoulder-length, wavy hair—it was Vivia.

Howard called out, "Vivia? What are you doing here?"

"Did you... come to call me for dinner?" Vivia's body trembled slightly, and Howard could just make out her huffing, "Do you think I wanted to come here? If it wasn't for Antalya sending me, I wouldn't have bothered. That guy really knows how to delegate tasks!"

Vivia's stomach growled, and Howard looked at her, surprised, "Have you been waiting here without eating?"

"Stop nagging! I've been trying to lose weight!" Vivia's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she turned her head away, but her stomach betrayed her again with another growl.

Just then, Greg emerged from the forge, having finished his work, "Howard, you're still here... Ah! Vivia! Were you waiting for Howard?"

"Stop it! It was Antalya who sent me! Dwarf, go eat already. They've kept the food warm in the pot for us!" Vivia said without looking back.

Scolded by Vivia, Greg gave a sheepish laugh and signaled Howard with a wink, "I'll grab the wine. Vivia's all yours."

Howard was momentarily stunned and by the time he regained his senses, Greg had disappeared.

Sighing, Howard said, "Even if you're dieting, you shouldn't starve yourself. What if you make yourself sick? Come on, let's go eat."

"Okay."

Surprisingly, Vivia merely whispered in agreement, her usual spirited demeanor nowhere to be seen.

Scratching the back of his head, Howard couldn't figure out what she was thinking.

Deciding not to dwell on it, he greeted briefly and then headed towards the kitchen, with Vivia silently following behind him.

Entering the kitchen, Howard found Greg already indulging in some wine by himself, with three plates of food laid out on the table and a basket of bread in the center.

Greg seemed quite at ease, pouring and drinking on his own.

Someone was washing dishes behind a partition, and Howard peeked in to see it was Ali.

She mentioned, "The boss already left after eating. The food is on the table. Clean up your dishes after eating."

Howard nodded and returned to where Vivia and Greg had already started eating.

"Hey, save some for me!" He hurried over, famished after a long day.

"Hmph, blaming others for your own slow actions, how childish. Better get used to the harshness of the world!"

Greg took advantage of Vivia's distraction to swipe a pork chop from her plate with a piece of bread.

"Vivia, didn't you say you were on a diet? Let me help you with this meat then!"

"How could you do that! Give it back to me! That was my energy for the whole day tomorrow!" Vivia shrieked, trying to wrestle the pork chop back from Greg.

Seeing an opportunity, Howard joined the fray, sneakily pinching a piece of chicken from her plate while she was distracted.

"Ah! Vivia! There's a thief! Howard stole a piece of your chicken!"

"Howard!"

…

Howard sat on the steps outside the kitchen, looking up at the brilliant starry sky.

It was already the wee hours, with the sky to the east faintly whitening.

The belated dinner had ended a few hours ago with Vivia's defeat; against the combined onslaught of Howard and Greg, how could she alone stand a chance?

In the end, a quarter of the food on her plate ended up in the stomachs of the other two.

Afterward, Greg insisted Howard stay for drinks.

Surprisingly, Ali was also persuaded by Greg to stay.

Contrary to Howard's expectations, Ali, who appeared somewhat frail, could actually drink more than Greg, who might as well have been raised in a barrel of ale.