“This… I thank you, young Head…” Turning to Sokram, Draven was about to get overly polite with Sokram again, but he raised a hand to stop him.

  “Just drop the formalities, call me Sokram. You’re my elder. I might be the young Head of my family, but I’m still just fourteen.” Sokram’s lips curved into a faint, calm smile.

  “Now sit with me, since you’re all so insistent on repaying me. I won’t hold back.” Finally, he let his greedy grin flash.

  “You know, my coming here may be counted as a fated encounter. I came specifically to look for you, Mr. Draven Miller, the best Whitesmith in Eversnow, or so I heard. You were the one who made those enchantment carvings on the Arch Mage’s Tower, weren’t you?”

  Sokram took out two needles, one of which was complete and the other cut vertically in half so the adamantium inside could be seen. “Can you replicate this?”

  Draven froze, shock and a tinge of pride flickering in his gaze. The city’s hero had just called him the best craftsman in Eversnow.

  When he took the needle, the familiar, cool weight of Mithril settled in his palm.

  Draven slowly exhaled his astonishment as his fingers brushed the surface.

  “Mana-tainted Mithril…”

  Ronna’s eyes widened, and the reflection of Mithril shone in her irises.

  She snatched the needle from her husband’s hands, carefully analyzing the metal, which was faintly vibrating in her hands.

  “Where did you take this from? And who made this…”

  Ronna could recognize a perfect piece of smithing work, but the needle seemed to have been formed by nature itself.

  She ran her thumb along the seamless edge, her pupils narrowing as if searching for a flaw that refused to exist.

  There were no signs of metal work or marks of fusion through heat. It was beyond perfect.

  "It’s defective, you see. The mana tainting is interfering with the precision of the spell I need these needles for,” Sokram said, presenting the needle parted in half.

  “Can you replicate it, Mr. Miller? In a way that is not mana-tainted?”

  Draven’s eyes lit with a smith’s manic excitement, but the light dimmed instantly. “I can’t, not because I don’t have the skill, but because I don’t have the metal.”

  “Oh, if it’s just that, then, here.” Sokram handed Draven a spatial ring with nineteen of the twenty Mithril ingots he got from Hannah and thirty Adamantium ingots.

  “But since I’m providing the metal, you will only charge me the handwork, right? I need at least one hundred of these needles for now. But I also need five for testing to see if the runic spell written on them works properly without the interference of the mana tainting the metal.”

  Draven checked the ring’s contents and nodded. “But I can’t just do everything for a hundred gold, especially work of this level of detail. What I can do is prioritize your commission over the other clients I have.”

  “How much?” Sokram asked bluntly, which made them think he was offended somehow.

  “I’m not trying to be shameless or anything, especially owing you this debt for saving us and healing me…”

  But Sokram raised his hand again. “There’s no debt for saving you. I did what I should. And healing you, too. Though… I won’t hide that I had my own interests in the matter. And I told you, Mr. Miller, you are my elder, speak freely.”

  Sokram was blunt and sincere in his words and tone, which gave Draven a sense of tranquility.

  “For the hundred gold, I can give you twenty replicas of these needles, but it’s impossible to replicate them perfectly. This seems to have formed naturally or magically somehow. It’s a pity it doesn’t work for you.”

  Draven's eyes shone with astonishment as he studied the two halves of the needle in his hand.

  “I've never seen metal work of this level before, not even from the hands of the Grand Masters or any other Dwarf from the Sacred Continent.”

  Sokram made some quick calculations and handed Draven another ring, “Here, I’m paying upfront for two hundred needles, though I believe you have enough metal to do twice that. It is normal for there to be some flawed ones.”

  The greed faded from Sokram’s eyes, replaced by the warmth of a friendly smile. “But I’m also paying as an incentive, because I need those as fast as you can. I truly want to test this spell before going out to hunt, and I don’t know how much more time off they will give me.”

  Sokram stood up and extended a hand for Draven to shake.

  It didn’t escape his eyes the way both Ronna and Monna reacted when he said how many needles he was ordering, despite their trying to hide their excitement.

  Shaking his hand, Draven stood up too, and looked at Sokram gratefully, “I’ll do my best to have the five you asked for in four days. That is the fastest I can do without compromising the quality of the work.”

  “That’s good enough. Thank you, Mr. Miller.” Sokram nodded in approval and handed Draven a scroll. “This scroll contains the runic lines to be engraved in the spiral carvings. But I must ask…”

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  This time, it was Draven who raised a hand for Sokram to stop, “I know. Mages and their secret spells. Don’t worry.”

  Draven handed the scroll back to Sokram, flashing a proud and confident grin.

  “You dragons have good eyes, but they can’t beat the eyes of a dwarf when it comes to crafting.” He winked.

  Hearing Draven’s words, Sokram automatically knew he was talking about Meldsight, a bloodline gift from the dwarves.

  With a single touch, a dwarf carrying this gift can see into the heart of what lies in his hand: every flaw, every truth, every detail, no matter how minimalistic. It also gives insight into the hidden potential of any material in their hands and how it can be shaped.

  “Oh… I see. Haha, then thank you, Mr. Miller.” Sokram nodded and turned to leave.

  Stopping by the door, Sokram added, “Mr. Miller, the Arch Mage Cecille spoke well of you. Do this well, and I promise you, there will be a lot more work coming your way. See you soon.”

  Sokram left, and the trio stayed there, stunned, until Ronna both hands shot up, punching the air, “Thank Fate, Nhiria, and Harten!”

  She turned to Draven with the brightest smile and hugged him and their daughter again. “We landed a huge client, my love!”

  “Yes! Let me get to work, I feel our fate might have changed for good this time.” Draven hugged his wife and daughter and rushed into the smithy.

  A few meters away from the store, while turning on a corner, Sokram spotted a Fox from the Pavilion.

  She had long black hair, gray-furred ears and tail, dressed like a ninja in a yukata, and a mask covering the lower half of her face.

  Her styled dark eyebrow and amber eyes, contrasting with her pale skin, were an alluring sight.

  “Hi, boss~” The fox greeted him flirtily.

  “News for me?” Sokram flashed her a flirty grin back, causing her heart to skip a beat.

  “Nope, we just heard about your encounter with a certain Mr. Brahin.” The fox spoke, smiling with her eyes, a smile that contrasted the killing intent that briefly flashed in her gaze.

  “Oh, that was quite the fortunate encounter, so I let him go since he placed me in the good graces of the Millers.” Sokram grinned, leaning against the wall beside her.

  “Want us to deal with him?” The fox offered as she leaned closer to him, running a hand over his arm.

  “Just make sure he truly leaves the city,” Sokram scratched his chin thoughtfully.

  He knew Brahin was a coward, the kind who would definitely flee.

  Even if he had some small noble backing him, Sokram’s standing in the city couldn’t be looked down upon.

  “And if he doesn’t?” The fox's tone was even flirtier, but Sokram could sense the bloodlust laced in her words.

  “Well, then, he'd better never appear anywhere else again. I’m sure the city would be thankful for us taking out the trash, right?” The killing intent in Sokram’s eyes and words made the fox shiver and her heart race.

  “Your desire is my pleasure, boss.” With a single, fluid step, she melted back into the shadows, fading out of existence.

  Sokram didn’t go straight back home.

  Instead, he decided to visit his business partner at what used to be the South Gate Stables, but was now the South Gates Perch.

  And was happy he did, because Oliver, too, needed a savior.

  Not to save his life, it was to save his heart.

  In the middle of the perch stood a woman with rosy, flawless skin, brown eyes, and long, wavy vermilion hair.

  Her hourglass figure commanded attention. Dressed in an elegant yet simple gown, she seemed impossibly more beautiful.

  Sokram could understand why Oliver had lost so much in his life.

  She was stunning, but her heart was made of shit, and her name was a name he would never forget, either.

  Veronice di Blackblood.

  Or Bloody Veronica, for those who knew her from the underworld. She was one of the three heads of the family and criminal organization known as the Blackbloods.

  But she was also Oliver’s ex-wife.

  And if that wasn’t enough, he was still deeply in love with her.

  “V, come on, you know I can’t do this. This place isn't just mine anymore. They are good people. I can’t just stab them in the back.” Oliver pleaded with her.

  But whatever the proposition was, she wasn’t budging. “So after all we lived through together, you’re going to deny your wife? Because of what? A family of dragons? Look at this place, we could make a fortune here.”

  She was right.

  The newly built perch no longer resembled the shabby stables.

  Now, the air smelled crisp and clean, and the polished, artificial nests gleamed under the morning sun.

  On each branch of the over twenty structures in the whole area, there were some varying types of flying mounts already trained.

  They weren’t rare birds like the White Chested Crows. But they still generated a good inflow of money, enough to pay the tamers, the mages, and the maintenance of the place.

  “But it isn’t mine alone, and I’ll not betray anyone, ever. Not even for you. Besides, you’re not my wife anymore.”

  With Oliver refusing her like that, Veronica's manipulative expression changed for the first time. Confusion and astonishment flashed in her eyes.

  “Aren’t I the love of your life, Ollie?” Veronica linked her arms with his, casting a look full of hurt and pain.

  Sokram sighed, knowing he had to interfere.

  Oliver melted instantly, losing himself in her eyes.

  “Hello, Mr. Oliver, how have you been?” Sokram appeared out of the corner, pretending he didn’t hear anything, grinning like a kid.

  “K-Kid! I’ve been fine, and you?” When caught red-handed, Oliver was always a horrible actor.

  His face went paper-white, a sweat bead tracked a nervous path down his temple, and the look of guilt on his face spoke volumes.

  “Are you sure you’re fine, Mr. Oliver?” Sokram continued to grin, but his eyes were intently looking into Oliver’s.

  “Haha,” Oliver rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed, and tried to sidestep away from Veronica. But she had a good grip of his arm, linked with hers.

  “I’m just having a friendly chat with my old friend here.”

  “I see, but old friend? Why are you lying, Mr. Oliver?” Sokram's tone shifted to a serious, low register, but his grin didn't twitch, stretching like a sharp blade that issued an eerie warning.

  “Mr. Oliver, I often disagree with my grandmother’s way of dealing with people. I always like to give people the benefit of the doubt, especially those whom I consider dear friends, so I’ll give you another chance to introduce your ex-wife again, alright?”

  Sokram's grin turned eerier by the second, then his gaze shifted toward Veronica. “And you can keep pretending not to know Lady Margiory would run a background check on you.”

  “Look, kid. This is not what it looks like…” Oliver tried to justify himself, but Veronica interrupted.

  “And you? Who are you to speak to my husband like this?” Veronica glared at Sokram.

  Sokram chuckled, holding her gaze, “Heh, today is truly an amusing day. It’s the second time today I’ve met someone who doesn’t know who I am. But someone like you wouldn’t know me by title, so allow me to introduce myself, Lady Veronica di Blackblood.”

  Sokram made the formal salutation gesture, fist over heart, “I’m Sokram di Dracony vid Dracnakrid, young Patriarch of the Dracnakrid, Dracony, and chosen successor of the Androny family.”

  Sokram pointed behind him, “And these…”

  Ten Flawless level guards, dressed in matching leather and dark steel medium armor, appeared behind him, “…Are the guards, my grandmother, Lady Androny, placed around this business, and they have been hearing everything you said so far. But…”

  Sokram raised a hand, signaling someone.

  "And this is…” Another fox-kin girl, with dark olive skin and hair color similar to Lucille and Lucy, also dressed in the same ninja-like attire as the one earlier, who appeared beside him.

  “…Luma, an agent of the Purple Pavilion that has been shadowing you since you entered the city. I know you’ve been in the city for quite a while. I even know why you’re here, and who you’re running from.”