Wizard: This witcher is neglecting his duties.

Chapter 57 The Blacksmith Shop

As the mysterious magical runes floating around the treasure vault flashed by, Francesca let out a soft breath.

She wiped non-existent sweat from her forehead with her fair palm and turned to Toruville, saying:

"Alright, Lady Toruvel, the spatial seal is complete. I'm going to open the treasure vault now."

"The door to this treasure vault was originally powered by magical nodes and could only be opened by a special spell from an elven sorcerer, which is why it has been preserved intact for thousands of years."

"When those human armies attacked, they probably didn't take anything from here."

"To open it now, I must personally infuse it with magic."

The elven sorceress explained a few words, then gently raised her right hand, her slender fingers shimmering with magical light. She drew an extremely complex magical rune in the air and uttered a somewhat awkward incantation in ancient Elvish.

As she spoke, a powerful surge of magic, under her control, slowly flowed into the metal door of the treasure vault.

Amidst a soft humming sound, an ancient Elvish rune also lit up on the metal door of the treasure vault. The continuous infusion of chaotic magic made the magical rune on the metal door brighter and brighter.

hum!hum!hum!

Only after Francesca channeled enough magic did the doors to this treasure vault, sealed for over a thousand years, officially open amidst the clattering of mechanical machinery.

When the dust settled and she saw the items inside the treasure vault, Toruviel immediately covered her mouth in surprise.

Illuminated by the torches of several people, ten enormous treasure chests stood quietly in the center of the vault, filled with countless gold and jewels, still radiating an alluring glow even after thousands of years.

Even a farmer who has never seen the world could imagine how enormous this wealth was after seeing these gold and jewels.

However, unlike ordinary elves like Toruville, Francesca did not show any surprise when she saw the gold. Instead, she shook her head with a sigh.

For the current Elven race, this gold is not of much value, just like the Elven Empire of the past, which possessed countless riches.

The magnificent and beautiful elven city was a miracle that no human town could compare to. But even such a civilization was wiped out by savage humans, and the elven people, like the dwarves, became a minority.

In the face of violence, only violence can counter it.

Unfortunately, her people understood this too late.

Francesca's gaze swept over the treasure chests until she saw the magical equipment adorning the walls and the four enormous metal golems guarding the corners. She nodded slightly and pursed her lips.

This treasure vault was protected by magic, and although a thousand years have passed, the contents inside have not been damaged. The ancient magical equipment and the four powerful metal golems are actually more valuable treasures.

She thought for a moment, then turned to Toluviel and said:

"Lady Toruvel, didn't you have an agreement with the Witchers to share a quarter of their spoils?"

"Although this treasure vault originally belonged to us elves, when they come here again..."

"You can let me know, and I will give them another generous reward."

………………

The next day, in the old city of Vijma.

Wayne put all his valuables into a magic-patterned storage bag, which he hung around his neck for safekeeping.

He would only put a small purse containing a few dozen orens into his waist bag as spare change for daily expenses.

As for the pile of otherworldly snacks, he carefully hid them under the bed, even casting an Aden sign so they wouldn't be discovered.

With the magic-patterned storage bag, Wayne felt that his strength had greatly improved. Of course, this improvement was not in physical attributes or combat skills. A Witcher's strength largely depends on external objects.

Sword oil, alchemical bombs, potions, powerful armor, and swords are all part of a Witcher's strength.

However, sword oil, alchemical bombs, and potions are all precious resources that are difficult to preserve and easily damaged in battle. Ordinary witchers can only carry a very small portion with them and cannot use them to their heart's content.

But with the magic-patterned storage bag, all these problems were solved. Wayne could carry all kinds of sword oil and potions with him, and he could even store dozens of alchemical bombs of various types without fear of being discovered or damaged.

This undoubtedly greatly enhances his ability to withstand risks, and he is able to find appropriate solutions when faced with various emergencies.

Thinking of this, Wayne couldn't help but marvel at his good fortune, having managed to obtain a spatial equipment so quickly.

After finishing breakfast, instead of going to the city hall to deal with the house purchase, he asked Geralt, who was still somewhat hungover, for a master-level silver sword design from the Wolf School.

This thing wasn't a finished product; it was a replica that Geralt hand-drawn based on his memory.

The main focus is on the design concept of the sword, its appearance, and the material configuration. Because the requirements are extremely stringent, only a master blacksmith with superb skills can complete it.

Although the Master-level Silver Sword is not the best sword in the Wolf School, it is cheaper to make, the materials are easier to find, and it is easier to repair than the Master-level equipment, making it more suitable for use in ordinary missions.

Wayne didn't want to find that after he used his Master-level equipment to kill a few monsters, the reward he received wasn't even enough to cover the repair costs.

After leaving the Fox Tavern, he walked for more than ten minutes to the address given to him by Revaden, and arrived at the outside of a dwarven blacksmith shop in Vizimar.

At this time, the blacksmith shop was still open. Three strong dwarves, dressed in thin clothes and covered in sweat, were swinging huge iron hammers and hammering iron blanks on the felt next to the furnace.

Judging from the shape of those items, they should be knives and farm tools used by ordinary people.

That's normal. In the Middle Ages, blacksmith shops didn't primarily produce weapons and armor like in games. Their main job was to produce iron pots, kitchen knives, hoes, and other tools for farmers and residents.

After confirming the address was correct, Wayne, with a friendly smile, chose the youngest dwarf from the three who looked the most honest and simple, and asked:

"Excuse me, blacksmith, is Master O. Henry here?"

"I was introduced to him by his friend, Mr. Rewaden, because I wanted to commission him to make some equipment for me."

The young dwarf who was being questioned by Wayne paused for a moment, then scratched his hair with his iron-shaving fingers before saying in a simple-minded manner:

"Mr. O. Henry played Gwent all night, winning all our wages, and then drank half a keg of stout. He's probably still not fully awake."

"However, it's basically impossible for him to craft equipment for you."

"The equipment that the master crafts is never sold. He only crafts equipment for those he chooses, and he has never agreed to it, even though many of his dwarven juniors have asked him for it."

Wayne frowned upon hearing this. It seemed that obtaining a master-level silver sword from this master would indeed be quite difficult.

However, since we're here, there's no reason to back down. Whether we succeed or not, we have to give it a try.

He maintained his smile, handed the letter of introduction that Revaden had given him to the young dwarf, and then said:

"It's alright, blacksmith."

"I will wait here until Master O. Henry wakes up, then you can give him this letter for me."

"By the way, tell him that I am a witcher and want to forge a master-level sword. Whatever his requirements are, we can discuss them."

As he spoke, Wayne patted the young dwarf on the shoulder and whispered in his ear:

"My friend, please put in a good word for me. Whether it works or not, I'll treat you to the best tavern in town and drink until you're satisfied."

When the young dwarf heard Wayne say he would be invited to the best tavern and drink to his heart's content, his eyes lit up, and he nodded eagerly, saying in a simple, honest voice:

"Okay, you wait here."

"Actually, Master O. Henry is my uncle. I'll ask him for you."

"Whether he'll give me that face or not, that depends on your luck."

(End of this chapter)