lirvothethird

  "Master Doran."

  One of the elders sitting at the table leisurely lifted their cup to drink, breathing out a satisfied sigh before replying. Is this 'Doran'?

  "Yi, how come you come to me whenever you need something? Fine, what is it now?"

  Silently, the swordsman took out a rock from one of his wide sleeves before handing it to me. I took it wordlessly, kneading it into a sphere. What else am I supposed to do? It seems I'm getting shown off or or, or something. I should try harder.

  Feeling cocky, I spun it in the air on my hand. When the sound feels right when it passes through it, it means that the shape is correct. Deftly turning it around, I used some of the excess to form the foot. A simple, standard lidless jar was born. I looked up to to no appuse.

  Was what I did incorrect? Sympathetic gnce from the old dy, and two unimpressed looks. 'Doran' started speaking.

  "Are you that desperate to find a disciple for me? Petty tricks. Pass it."

  The jar was taken out of my hands as the swordsman began talking, once again, in Ionian.

  "He's a traveler from Piltover. Quick learner, with some type of earth magic. Doesn't know Ionian though, nor does he know how to fight."

  The old man pulled the jar, intending to tear a piece off. His arm bulged slightly as he let go with a gasp. He squinted at the swordsman.

  "If he knew earth magic you should tell me!"

  He pulled out a small hammer, doing a brisk swing at it. Uh oh. I hurriedly covered my ears. Hitting one of my works with a mallet sounded good, but a horrifying shriek would happen with a hammer. After a few seconds, nothing happened.

  One light tap was all he gave. A melodious ting~ filled the air as the jar vibrated.

  "I'll teach this outsider a little before sending him on his way."

  "Many thanks."

  The swordsman seemed a little happier and left after patting my shoulder twice.

  I stood there, inspecting the elder just as he was inspecting me too. Hair in a bun, disheveled with a kind face. Seems eccentric, shows that he has skill.

  He energetically stood up before bowing slightly to the other two.

  "Farewell old coots."

  The other elder tilted his cup slightly.

  "Later old bastard."

  ""Hahahaha!""

  With farewells said and done, he started to trot down the stairs. Quickly copying the bow, I hurried after the spry elder hobbling down the stairs. It felt like he was going to fall any moment now with how fast he was going.

  Following closely behind, I ensured that if he fell I can catch him. In this fashion, we arrived somewhere close to the base of the mountains. A straw hut and a small, small smithery sat a distance away from the sheer cliff up top. It was close yet far from the vilge below.

  He got straight to the point. Pointing at the straw hut, he formed a triangle before mimicking pcing it on the side. Just a half circle was enough for him to find a location.

  "House."

  I copied his tone.

  "Horse."

  He smiled and repeated it patiently.

  "House."

  "House."

  Thumbs up. Means I succeeded! It probably meant hut or home. Squatting down, I drew some deep furrows in the dirt when a cloth shoe used the tip to draw a line. Using the new pcement, I drew a new rectangle.

  Digging is easy, two hands scooped, and a hole was dug.

  With the dirt gone, I went to the cliff and took handfuls to form bricks. The floor was completed and the wall was raised to my shins when a few steaming loaves of ftbread was given to me. Grateful, I reached out when it pulled back.

  "Laobien."

  His eyes swivelled as he carefully talked.

  "Bread?"

  It sounded like a butchered dialect of Demacian.

  "Demacia?"

  "No, I'm once from, faraway, far frost nd."

  "Freljord? I've never been there before, but I heard it's extremely cold, with barbarians wearing animal pelts coming down to Demacia to pilge."

  "Kuheum. Ionian. Speak. Learn."

  Gnawing on the ftbread in my mouth, I used rocks I’ve made on the higher parts to let air flow in. I opted for a triangur roof to not make it feel like the burrows I usually made.

  Time passed quickly, as I settled in. Tables, benches and some storage filled up the room.

  It was time to learn. He started walking on another path. It seems that there won’t be anything else made today.

  Pink bud trees dotted the mountain, awaiting the day of blooming. Slender birds with a lick of red on top soared through the sky, gliding freely, wheeling around the mountains.

  We walked down to a stream, where it gurgled, with purple and pink frogs spshing into the water.

  By the time the sun was setting, not a word was spoken, and we had circled back.

  The sun cast a long shadow in front of us. He turned.

  "Pass!"

  A jovial smile was on his face as he gave two thumbs up. Huh? Passed what?

  Waving me off, he entered his hut to sleep. With nothing else to do, I slept as well.

  "One hundred."

  Master Doran handed the tongs and hammer to me. I gnced nervously at the forge. A bzing heat was swirling in it. Only when something was put inside would some of the heat inside fre out. It was magical in a way that didn't use mana.

  A small ingot mold was spshed with some iron sg. It rapidly cooled. Turning it out, the bottom hadn't solidified yet, leaving a dribble of liquid iron running down the side of the anvil.

  Master Doran drank from a fsk, cheeks bulging. He sprayed it in a fine mist. Why was it alcohol? It doesn't matter. Sweeping up the iron using the broom, it was set to fire again.

  Another attempt. Uneven.

  Another. Dropped in the fire.

  Another...