Chapter 201 The first difficulty in the forging area
"You carry the load, and I hold the horse..."
Gretel hummed a song and walked on the mountain road. He rode the pony called by [Summon Mount], swaying and swaying among the lush grass. The reason why it was a pony was because he was walking at this moment.
It was a mountain road. He summoned a normal-height mount to come out. Gretel was afraid that he would fall...
I was carried into the Master's Tower in March, and it was already mid-July when I was released. The meadow in the distance turned from faint green to a bright green color with gold. On the mountainside in the distance, the blue lake reflected
Staring at the sky, wisps of white clouds drifted silently in the center of the lake, making the surrounding area seem more quiet and clear.
Bernard carried his big bone stick and followed Grete step by step. The bone stick pointed diagonally towards the sky, pulling apart the ears of long grass, and the height even exceeded Grete's head.
It's not that Gretel mistreats his followers. It's really... with his magical strength, even the horses he can summon cannot carry Bernard...
Just, sad.
Maybe when he reaches level 5, the summoned phantom horse can hump this barbarian. However, according to the information Gretel has memorized, the weight of the phantom horse is the weight of the caster + 0 pounds/caster level. What does Gretel think?
, don’t even think that Bernard is only 50 pounds heavier than him...
He couldn't even lift that big bone alone.
The forging area that Grete wants to go to is on the north side of Igor Peak, in the heart of the west foot of Clark Peak. It can be said that if you look down from the top of Igor Peak, you can see the gate of the forging area...
If any abnormal situation occurs, the mages can activate their flying skills and come down from the peak to rescue, or they can simply strike down lightning from the Tower of Babel, which is a matter of minutes.
Moreover, except for a few human mages in the forging area, most of them are dwarves, making it difficult for traitors to sneak in. If not, Gretel would not have been allowed to act alone and go to the forging area from the Yamashita Station on his own.
Archbishop Carlisle didn't even send anyone to see him off. He just told Gretel to try to prepare earplugs and eye masks before leaving. Otherwise - "How are you doing with your [Sleep Technique]? Can it work on you?"
Just by hearing this kind of talk, you can tell how noisy the forging area can be. In fact, Grete climbed up about five or six hundred meters along the stream between Igor Peak and Clark Peak, when he heard jingle, jingle, jingle.
Ding-dong, boom-boom, boom-boom sounds kept coming from the front.
Are we almost there? Grete was refreshed. He followed the sound and walked forward. Not long after, he saw a group of rickety small wooden houses, colorful, blooming like a field of flowers near the mountain stream. As he got closer, the aroma of wine filled his nostrils.
Come on, a short, bearded man shouted at the top of his lungs:
“#$%&*……”
It's over, Dwarvish.
He doesn't understand.
Grete silently took a picture of [Language Proficiency] for himself. He is now a level 2 mage. [Language Proficiency] can last for 20 minutes at a time, and his daily mana can support 10 to 15...
How do you spend your days outside of 6 hours?!
Gretel really didn't expect that his first difficulty in this mission would actually come from the language barrier...
He stood at the door of the tavern and looked around. Soon, he saw a normal-looking two-story building with a dark blue six-pointed star hung in a double circle. Grete knocked on the door tentatively, and sure enough, there was a fifth-level
The mage came to open the door. When he saw Gretel, he was immediately delighted and pulled him into the office:
"Finally a new person is here! I'm almost annoyed by them - Hey, which part of the work are you responsible for? Maintenance of magic equipment? Inspection of ore ingots? Or reconciliation of accounts? Why are you here now? You're so early!
"
"Uh...I'm responsible for researching mithril smelting..."
Gretel awkwardly handed over the certificate.
The official document paper specially made by the Magic Council is light yellow, slightly thicker than normal writing paper, and has wisps of light green lines in the paper pages.
The other party first placed a flash spell on the back of the official document, which illuminated the translucent watermark in the center of the page. Then he reached out and flicked it, and a magic mark appeared in the lower right corner. After checking every mark, he lowered his head and took it seriously.
Read this testimonial:
"We hereby dispatch the fourth-level arcanist and second-level mage Gretel Nordmark..."
After reading this, he couldn't help but raise his head and look at the badge on Gretel's chest in astonishment. The fifth-level mage let out a small "Wow" and looked at Gretel for a while as if he were a monster, and then continued word by word.
After reading the parliamentary document, his level of enthusiasm jumped up a notch in exponential mode:
"The council finally sent someone here! Great! It's been more than half a year, and the production of mithril has not increased. The dwarves only know how to drink, drink, drink... We can't scold them yet! We can't lower the price of the goods when they are sold.
You can't raise the price of grain and wine. How can you get them to increase production?
The council keeps asking me to find a way! If the output cannot be increased, my contribution points will be deducted! &%￥#..."
He looked at Gretel with extremely eager eyes, as if he saw a savior coming from heaven:
"Leave it to you! I was promoted to a second-level arcanist this year. It's so difficult to do research. I don't understand it at all! You are a fourth-level arcanist, so you will definitely be able to solve the problem!
What research conditions do you need? Just tell me, and I will solve it for you immediately if I can solve it. If I can’t, write a report and apply to the Magic Council!"
Gretel really couldn't bear to let him down. To be honest, if what the Magic Council wants is steel-making - open-hearth steel-making, blast furnace steel-making, converter steel-making, burning coke, blowing oxygen, there is always one suitable for you. Although he is right
I don't know anything about this, but I can still provide some ideas.
But smelting mithril?
He doesn’t even know what mithril is!
"Uh... can you first show me how Mithril was made..."
"It's a small thing! Just wait for me to make arrangements and I'll take you in right away!"
The fifth-level mage sat up and put the documents in his hands away. He took out a thin silver headband and handed it to Grete:
"This is a headband that stabilizes [Language Understanding]. It has no other purpose than to allow you to understand their words. The mages who work here each have one. It is a loan from the Magic Council. You have to return it when you leave here. The forging area is very dangerous.
, you can’t walk around.”
The first difficulty was solved in this way... Gretel took the ring with gratitude and put it on his head.
The headband is a bit big. I pressed it back to get it stuck above my ears without pressing it on my eyes. It still feels a little greasy on my fingers. God knows how many people have worn this headband and whether the previous owners have cleaned it.
Grete secretly made up his mind to wash it with soap before he followed the fifth-level mage out of the wooden house and came to the front of the tavern:
"Old Hunter! This is the new mage from the council. Take us into the Mithril District to have a look!"
The tavern was noisy, with the sounds of fistfights, gambling, and wild singing coming out from the doors and windows. The fifth-level mage shouted three times before an old dwarf came.
He came out drunk, with a red face, and yelled at him:
"Shout whatever you want! I'm already off work. I want to enter the Mithril District. I'll do it tomorrow!"
As he spoke, he raised his head and took a big sip of beer. Rich foam overflowed from the edge of his beard. The old dwarf wiped a handful of foam with his backhand and spit out thick phlegm. Finally, he still had some courtesy and did not directly attack the mages.
He vomited at his feet and fell to the steps of the tavern, shiny and gray with black.