The Crafter's Dungeon: A Dungeon Core Novel (Dungeon Crafting Book 1) Jonathan Brooks (sites to read books for free .TXT) 📖

Nevertheless, he did what he could to walk into the village like he had every right to be there.  The first villagers he saw did a double take when they saw him, but they didn’t run away to the guards, which was a promising sign.  He heard some mutterings, but nothing alarming; they either didn’t know why he was chased off in the first place or didn’t care enough to worry why he was back.  Regardless of the reason, their indifference worked in his favor.

Kelerim avoided his old smithy, because he didn’t want to meet the new Blacksmith – though he could hear the sound of a hammer ineffectually banging against metal and cursing coming from that direction even halfway across the village.  He was also in luck, because when he looked around on his way to his destination, he didn’t see any members of Razochek’s warband, which meant that they were still out hunting.

The village didn’t really have a general store or anything as fancy as that, but there was a small hut where the supplies they received from the interior of Orcrim were kept and overseen for distribution.  It was there that he went, as it was the most likely place to find the things on Sandra’s list, though it ran the risk of having a guard nearby.  His luck held, though, because when he arrived there was just old Furbrea inside, sitting bored in her rickety chair in the corner.

“Kelerim, is that you?  I was told you went crazy and ran out into the wasteland.  I never thought I’d see you again,” the old Orcish woman said when she saw him enter.  “And what are you wearing, boy?  I didn’t take you for the Warrior type.”

He was thankful it was just her here, as her assistant was a nosy, snobbish young Orc who liked to throw his authority around – especially when it came to Kelerim.  Being the Blacksmith didn’t come with a lot of extras, but he was usually allotted clothing and luxuries every once in a while; there were a few times he was stopped from getting what he needed by the assistant because of Kelerim’s parentage.

Furbrea was a different matter, altogether.  While she didn’t exactly like him, she didn’t dislike him.  In fact, she didn’t really like anybody, so he felt he was on equal footing when it came to dealing with her.

 “Oh, you know how rumors start in a place like this.  Actually, what happened was that I was sent away to try to work out a trade with some ‘foreign powers’ for better weapons, since I was the resident expert in their manufacture – and also due to my birth.  I’ve just arrived and need to get back there, so I need to make a small trade with you, if you have the time,” he lied smoothly, after having practiced countless times over the last few hours.  It wasn’t a complete lie, so it helped sell the story.

The old Orc got up from her chair with a grunt, her towering form that was stooped from age still head and shoulders above him.  The wrinkles on her face grew more pronounced as she concentrated and stared into his eyes, likely looking for the truth of his words in them.  He started to sweat a little more as she kept looking at him, before turning away towards the table at the side of the room.  He held in his sigh as she turned, as relief spread throughout his body, making him feel weak from the released tension he hadn’t realized was locking his body up tight.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.  Put it down here.”

Furbrea obviously saw the leather-wrapped bundle in his arms, so he immediately put it down and unwrapped it, displaying the pair of Masterwork-quality Steel swords in their sheaths.  The Orc immediately inspected them, and he could see the surprise reflected in her face, which smoothed out her wrinkles and made her appear younger at the same time.

“Boy, these are magnificent!  I could give you everything here and it still wouldn’t cover the cost of these – they’re made from steel, aren’t they?  I remember seeing a steel sword in my youth, but it’s been a long time…where did you say you got these?” Furbrea asked as she slid out the other sword and tested the edge against her thumb – which immediately drew blood.

“Oh, I found a source not too far from here, but it isn’t in Orcrim.  I’m really just here as an intermediary, as the source wouldn’t necessarily be welcome here.  And all they really need are some basic supplies, as they are unavailable in their location; you know, as a sample of future trade deals.  There will be many more such in the future,” Kelerim quickly told the old Orc woman.  It wasn’t quite what he was originally going to say, but the words just spilled out of his mouth without thought to the consequences.

* Uh, Kelerim, what are you doing?  This wasn’t part of the plan— *

“I can do that, boy.  Just tell me what you need, and I’ll scrounge it up for you.”

Kelerim ignored Sandra, knowing that he would have to explain later his motivations to the Dungeon Core.  In the meantime, he recited the things Sandra had wanted, which was still a ridiculously short list.  Furbrea showed surprising swiftness as she gathered up small quantities of everything he asked for, before putting them in a cloth bag and tying it closed with a leather strap.  In less than five minutes, she was done and started to hand the bag to Kelerim.

She hesitated, however.  “Are you sure this all that you want?  I can’t say I’ve ever liked you, but even I know this is a bad trade,” the old Orc asked with confusion.

“Absolutely.  This will work as a representation of