Gretel automatically and consciously shrank his steps.
In the early years, they collaborated with nearby large-scale steel companies and visited steel plants. They really followed the guides and didn't dare to make any mistakes. After all, when you hear from time to time, "The molten steel down here is 1650 degrees,"
This tank weighs about 140 tons and contains 260 tons of molten iron." "This pipe was improperly operated once, and people were killed by the spray."...
What do you mean by not daring to say one more word or take one more step, brothers?
Although this is just a forging area for dwarves, not a top-notch factory, the principle is the same. Although there are three or five dwarves walking back and forth inside, Gretel deeply understands that just because professionals can walk, it does not mean that non-professionals can also
Can walk.
What if something explodes, and the magma with more than a thousand degrees and thousands of degrees is splashed out with sparks, how can you rely on the mage armor to withstand it?
Gretel said that life is his own...
He immediately stood still outside the forge. Seeing that Wizard Dumfries wanted to argue with the dwarf blocking the door, he reached out and tugged at the back of his robe. Wizard Dumfries stepped back angrily, and the dwarf with the braided beard became more and more proud.
He raised his head and said loudly:
"Wait outside! - It'll be ready soon!"
He picked up a hammer - smaller than what Grete saw outside, with the hammer head only as big as a fist - and knocked twice at an unknown location at the door. At the same time, distant knocking sounds echoed in various forging rooms at the same time.
It rang.
"Dang Dang!...Dang Dang! Dang~~~Dang~~~Dang!!!"
During the first strike, the sound of hammering and shouting in the forging room was still deafening;
When the second knock sounded, the various forging rooms from the gate to the Mithril area became quiet one after another;
After the third knock, in addition to the rapid footsteps, the only sounds left in the entire cave were the whistling of the wind and the occasional crackling of the magma bursting.
The dwarves walked out of the forge room in groups. They arranged their robes with black ash-stained palms, dusted off the soot from their leather skirts, and lined up neatly in the central passage. From the front of the passage near the Mithril area to the mountain
Near the gate at the entrance to the wall, rows of people knelt down and worshiped.
Wizard Dumfries quickly pulled Grete out of the way. The two magicians, oh, and Bernard who was following closely behind, huddled in an inconspicuous recess, watching the dwarves kneeling neatly, and
Pray aloud:
"Our great Father God..."
Hey, what are they doing?
Is it time to pray?
Gretel poked his head out from behind Master Dumfries, then retracted his head, then exposed half of his eyes, and carefully looked around. The dwarves' prayers became louder and louder, and finally, each man held a hammer in his hand, bang bang bang bang.
, bang bang bang bang, knocking the ground neatly...
Gretel: No wonder there are so many potholes along the way... I hit the ground with a hammer three to five times a day, and it's impossible to fix it no matter how hard I go...
Amidst the sounds of prayers and knocking, the flames of the fire pool in the Mithril District suddenly surged. The old dwarf who was tending the fire pool alone quickly bent down, picked up something from the center of the fire pool, and held it with long iron pliers.
Splashing in all directions, he ran all the way to the rear. After a moment, the exact same prayer sounded from behind the fire pool:
"Our great Father God..."
The voice is slow, hoarse, and smells of weakness, but it is sonorous and powerful, and the sound is like gold and stone. Just listening to it, there is an unspeakable shock that silently grows deep in my heart.
Grete stood quietly, listening to the prayers behind the fire pool, which resonated back and forth with the voices of the dwarves in the passage, getting louder and louder. The prayers reached an extremely high pitch, and a bright light suddenly burst out from behind the fire pool, even if the magma was rolling. , the flying flames could not suppress the brightness of the silver light——
Gretel couldn't tell what he saw. The field of vision was blazing white, and bright lights were flying around like dragons and snakes. In an instant, a series of messages popped into Gretel's mind:
He closed his eyes subconsciously. The bright light came on and off several times. After a long time, the prayer finally stopped, and the heavy footsteps returned to the forging room one after another. The dwarf with the braided beard at the beginning held out a wooden plate, and in the center of the plate, lay With five shiny little metal strips:
"Take today's mithril!"
The wooden plate was passed forward and almost hit Master Dumfries' thigh.
The fifth-level mage caught the wooden plate in a hurry, even a little awkwardly, and walked side by side with the braided dwarf into a small room next to it. Weighed, registered, and signed and stamped by both parties to confirm that it was correct, Mage Dumfries Then he put away the metal pieces and carefully sealed them into the copper box.
"Look, this is Mithril." Looking at the dwarf's leaving figure, Master Dumfries shrugged helplessly:
"Every day I toss and toss, just a small amount, just enough to wear a bracelet - the arm is not thick enough. Last year, Master Mendero came back from the battlefield and wanted to repair his staff of radiance. It took 30 days. Take away all the mithril at once, good fellow, it’s not enough!”
Just as he said this, there were chaotic footsteps outside the room again. Master Dumfries immediately pushed open the copper box, stood up, lowered his head, and stood solemnly:
"Master Tarbot, thank you for your hard work."
No one responded to him. Gretel followed his example and stood with his head bowed, quietly looking out - luckily he lowered his head, otherwise he wouldn't have seen a group of dwarves gathered around - or in other words holding a particularly old man. Dwarf, slowly walked out.
The old dwarf had white beard and hair, and his arms were weakly placed on the shoulders of the braided dwarf, with his head lowered. The flickering firelight in the passage shone on the back of his hands, and Grete saw that the skin on his hands was loose and shriveled, wrapping the back of his hands dryly. , it looks like there is no muscle underneath. The temples and the ends of the beard are dripping with sweat, and there are wet footprints every step of the way.
Hey... the one who made mithril just now... magic, or magic? It was probably magic. Are you so tired? When the teacher and the bald bishop released magic, they seemed to have never been so tired?
Just as he was thinking this, the old dwarf suddenly raised his head and coughed violently. The coughing sound was thick and heavy, with a clear phlegm sound, and he had difficulty breathing after each cough. Gretel subconsciously stepped forward and wanted to ask. After a few words or checking, I saw a group of dwarves behind them all raising their hammers, staring closely at the old man, and murmuring...
Grete: "!!!" If you have something to say, don't be rude!
White light soon flashed on the hammer. One after another, it brushed against the old man's body. With this support, the old man's breath soon calmed down, and he was able to throw away the support and walk. Gretel stood at the door of the room.
I watched him go away for a long time before hearing Master Dumfries say softly:
"This master craftsman is 352 years old... He is the leader of this group of dwarves and a 13th-level high-level priest. He is the only one here who can lead the dwarves to use magical magic to smelt mithril... You want to try to increase the production of mithril
, you can go to the pub to meet him later..."
Want to drink?!
Grete's face suddenly wrinkled into a bitter melon.