Yet another short chapter, been busy lately. Will try to get longer ones out soon. |
Chapter 2 Arvern was just scribbling his notes into the logbook of the mine’s underground warehouse when Kitakör, the smith’s apprentice, walked into the storeroom and waltzed up to the counter. “Always good to see you, my boy.” said the bookkeeper “What can I do ya for?” “I'll take two wagons of the black iron,” Said the lad “The master sent me with 40 fernï to buy the best quality only, muttering something about the standard quality cracking in higher altitudes or some such nonsense.” “Here’s what we’ll do, treat me to lunch and a tankard when I reach your village of öntöde, and we’ll call it 35.” “Sounds like a good idea, I'll make it two tankards so you have one for the road for your kindness.” Arvern walked into the nearby room and began to saddle up the mules. Kitakör began to help him, strapping the poles that hooked the cart onto the beasts onto the saddles. Next, he buckled the saddles, reaching between the mule’s front two legs to cinch the leather taut. Soon, workers began to arrive with woven baskets tied to their backs like knapsacks; each of which was filled with the black iron ore. In no time at all the two carts were filled, and the duo were on their way up the bajötszikla. |