Lone: The Wanderer Rewrite

Book 2: Chapter 20: Health Concerns and Lacking Persuasion

The host has developed the passive skill: Steamforging.

"I... I did it," Lone said in awe to Wilbur. "I actually did it."

The old wrinkled dwarf stood over Lone and carefully examed the small pipe-covered gear he had just created. "When you said you thought you could do it first try, ah half expect ah'd be pullin' ye out of a self-made explosion."

A grin peeked out from under his lengthy and pure-white beard. "Well, done, boy. Ye're now officially a steamforger. Well, ye'll never officially be one since ye're not a dwarf, but now only a single piece of paper separates ye from real beginners in the field."

Straight after giving his report to the guild, Lone had dropped Breena and Kyuubi off at the tailor shop she worked at. He then went to work himself. Some normalcy could do him some good, he felt.

"What does this little cog even do?" Lone asked.

"Ha, fuck all. It's a common first-time craft for newbies. Ah suppose it could be forcefully used to power something simple and small like a toy or maybe a very basic watch, but yeah, it's not meant to be used. It's a gateway design to earn the skill. Ye did get Steamforging, aye?" Steamforger Wilbur asked.

Lone nodded. "Of course. I'm nothing if not talented. You know that, Gramps."

"Oh, ah could think of a few things," the old dwarf quipped before he frowned and started coughing violently.

Lone offered the man a hand to support himself as he hacked and choked. A few minutes passed before the respected smith moved his hand from his mouth only to reveal it was covered in blood. Resignation and acceptance were clear as day in his eyes as he stared at his palm.

Lone smiled awkwardly. "I'm assuming that isn't a normal thing for a dwarf to do, is it? Where I'm from, leaking blood from pretty much anywhere is a good cause for concern."

Wilbur chuckled faintly. "I'm old. They're not making a tomb for me out of spite. Don't worry about me, boy. Ma time may be near but it isn't today. Just focus on yer work, yeah?"

Lone felt conflicted. 'He's right. It's not my place to butt in, regardless of how I feel. If he's content, who am I to complain? Surely he wants to see his wife again...'

Lone didn't know if the afterlife was a real thing in this world or just an unclear concept like back on Earth but he sincerely hoped it existed. He'd grown close to Wilbur but it wasn't above him to accept that, with time, things were lost.

Be it relationships, items, wealth or even family. He focused his mind and returned to smithing though something in the back of his mind itched at him to speak his true thoughts. He ignored it and moved on.

"'Ere's yer tea, love," a young and pretty dwarven woman said to Lone as she placed a few plates of food in front of him. "Ah gave ya ah few extra bangers wae yer mash, so wipe 'at sorry look oof yer mug, aye? Ye'r puttin' yer good looks tae waste."

Lone smiled kindly. "Thank you. I appreciate it. I'll make sure to savour them. Everything you cook is incredible."

With a pride-filled grin, the woman answered, "It's ma job. What use would ah be if ah couldnae dae ma job, eh? None at all."

She gave Lone a friendly wink then wandered back to the Rusty Sprocket's ground floor bar.

Lone carefully picked up his gravy jar and poured the thick brown liquid on his bangers and mash. 'I like how much this place reminds me of home... Calling 'dinner' tea... Bangers and mash, gravy, a side of hash browns and even some haggis... You have to wonder if a fellow Scot somehow influenced them in the past or if maybe this is a parallel world of some sort...'

Grand thoughts mixed with his nostalgic ones as he dug into his meal. At the same time, he pulled up the four skills which had levelled up today during his training and regular work at Wilbur's forge.

Passive Skill: Blacksmithing A skill that allows the host to craft with metal 30%faster and 30% more skillfully.

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Passive Skill: Steamforging

A skill that allows the host to perform the sacred dwarven smithing art of steamforging.

Steamforging performed by the host will be 5%faster and 5% more skilful.

Passive Skill: Woodworking A skill that allows the host to craft with wood 30% [+15%] faster and 30% [+15%] more skillfully. Cost:N/A Mastery:Advanced Level 2 [+5 levels]

Passive Skill: Steamforged Tool Mastery

A skill that allows the host to use steamforged artefacts 30% [+15%] more skillfully.

Gives the host a 3% [+1%] chance to immediately understand the method to use a steamforged artefact the first time the host holds it.

"So many improvements just from a few hours of steamforging," Lone mumbled to himself as a forkful of mashed potatoes found its way into his mouth.

He thought on Wilbur's health condition and he frowned a little. 'It's hard not to wonder if coughing up blood is normal for really old dwarves... I can't imagine it is.'

He chewed on some of the perfectly spiced haggis as he continued to speculate. 'I don't have as much medical knowledge as I'd like... That much blood though? He could have anything from tuberculosis, bronchitis, lung cancer, or something even scarier that's unique to Altros.'

Lone was only a history teacher, so while he knew about some of the serious health concerns from throughout the ages, he was nowhere near the level of a doctor or a medical expert.

'I wonder how badly it would set me back to use the mana orb to heal him...' Lone was aware such thoughts were unhealthy especially given that Wilbur seemed accepting of his coming death, but the prospect of losing someone he felt close to still hurt him.

"Mister? Is the food nae tae yer likin'?" the barmaid asked, surprising Lone.

Smiling apologetically, Lone shook his head. "No, it's incredible. It's a very nostalgic flavour. I'm quite a big fan of the food here so I'm sorry if I worried you. I'm just brooding a bit, haha."

The woman sighed and wore a look that screamed 'what am I to do with this one?' "Ah'm glad then. By the way, there's an official lad fae the cooncil askin' fae ya. Ah teld 'im ye were 'avin' yer fill so 'e teld me tae let ya know ya 'ave ah summons tae the 'all ah Memories. Said ya could take yer time but dinnae keep 'im waitin' fae tae long. Got all 'at?"

Lone nodded. "Yes, thank you. I've been waiting for this. I didn't expect a response so soon though."

The barmaid smiled with pride. "Robust governin' system we 'ave doon 'ere in the kriegs. Ain't nutin' like them slow elves up top, aye?"

"I've never been to an elven ruled country before so I wouldn't know," Lone confessed.

"Best keep it 'at way. If ya thought 'humans were judgemental an' stuck up, oh boy. Good thing the only elves in Krieg Moor are the ones with ah lick ah sense in 'em. Well, enjoy the rest ah yer meal, laddie. Gae us ah shout if ya need anything else, aye?" she said with a warm smile.

"Haha, of course," Lone replied in kind.

"Remarkable workmanship," Lone muttered.

Before him lay the centrepiece of Krieg Moor; the Hall of Memories. It was made almost entirely out of a deep grey stone with only its glazed windows and a few copper pipes being the exceptions.

The building was circular in nature though it seemed to actually be hexagonal. It almost looked like a theatre or an auditorium just from its shape. Its domed roof didn't help detract from that perception either.

A set of doors easily twice Lone's height lay open at the centre of the building's front-facing wall. All along each of the building's six faces was a seemingly endless amount of epitome carvings.

Each epitome was perfectly sculpted around the windows and pipes to show off its grandeur while not favouring any one epitome over the others.

"This is... a masterpiece. Simply a masterpiece," Lone exclaimed in awe as he basked in the brilliance of this clear magnum opus. "It should be criminal to not have to pay tribute to witness this... How many years did such a thing take to complete?"

The host has witnessed the magnificence of Krieg Moor's Hall of Memories and has truly appreciated its brilliance. Moment added to the [Ordinary moments and sites of cultural significance witnessed or created] list of the skill [Historical and Cultural Appreciation].

Witness 4 more dwarven Halls of Memories to upgrade the tier of this moment.

Stat bonus from moment: 5 Vitality.

"Only an ordinary moment?" Lone wore a condescending look on his face. "The system has no clue what it's fuckin' on about. Ordinary my arse."

Uncaring of Lone's opinion, the system did its job and gave him an appropriate notification.

Congratulations! The host's skill [Historical and Cultural Appreciation] has levelled up! It is now Beginner level 2.

'Now I get a level up? After so many moments? Fuck you too,' Lone thought, still bitter over the most beautiful piece of artwork he'd ever seen getting such a paltry rating from the blue screens.

"Ah, you have the Historical and Cultural Appreciation skill, do you?" a well-dressed and groomed dwarf wearing a pair of circular glasses asked as he walked down the steps of the Hall of Memories. "I quite agree with you. For such a monumental piece of history to be labelled as ordinary is an affront to art and culture as a whole."

The dwarf stopped just in front of Lone then smiled as he inclined his head and offered a hand. "Felix Morstone. I was the one who summoned you here."

"Lone Immortus," Lone replied before shaking the man's hand. "Sorry for not coming in earlier it's just a bit difficult to peel my eyes away from these walls."

"Quite understandable. Shall we go in now? We have to discuss what you told The Adventurer's Guild," Felix said as he turned around and gestured to the open double doors.

"Of course," Lone replied.

The interview with Felix was much like the one with the guild's employee. Lone just repeated everything he had said earlier that morning until he was asked to describe the place he'd seen in detail, particularly the buildings he thought were dwarven.

That took a lot longer than he'd expected. His memory was pretty good but the questions were almost endless and seemed needlessly complicated but Lone complied regardless.

Once they were finally done, Lone was asked one final question. "I understand a very famed steamforger by the name of Wilbur is using you as his assistant through The Adventurer's Guild, yes? Has he taught you any steamforging or suggested doing so?"

Lone shook his head. "Of course not. I just help with repairs, sales and the forging of regular tools and gear."

"Do you repair or sell any of the steamforged artefacts?" Felix asked.

Lone nodded. "No to repairing, of course, but yes, I sell them. I have more social-oriented skills than Wilbur does so more profit is generated if I'm the one behind the counter. And, uh, not to sound arrogant or anything, but my good looks have increased our female customer base as well as our non-dwarf one. I'm a rare foreigner, after all. Must seem exotic to the locals and welcoming to my fellow outsiders."

"Haha, must be nice. Thank you for your honesty. We've had people in the past deny all involvement with steamforged artefacts even though selling them on behalf of a certified steamforger is perfectly legal. It's usually a good pitfall trap to help begin identifying the web of lies," Felix explained.

'I thought as much. That's exactly why I've read a handful of books dedicated to the laws of the krieg. Tripping on toes out of ignorance would be beyond foolish,' Lone thought. "Is it a common thing? Non-dwarves being taught the art, that is."

"Less common than it being stolen, thankfully, but yes, it happens more than the local and even the grand council would like. You're free to go now, Mister Immortus. I'm done with my investigation. You've not really given us much to go off of but if you ever happen to experience the same thing again, try to find the missing dwarves. That would be huge," Felix claimed.

Lone smiled kindly. "I'm not a fan of being kidnapped by Primals on my off time, but I'll try my best if the situation repeats itself."

He got up, shook the man's hand once again then left. As he gave the Hall of Memories one final glance, he frowned. 'Persuasion didn't level up even once when I spoke to him.'