Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 38: Knives Around The Throne
Lannor stroked his chin and nodded.
He knew little about high-end smithies, but the process sounded sound enough.
The dwarf before him had put weight on the words “chief apprentice.” He was clearly proud of the title.
That at least proved, indirectly, that Master Tul Butcher was a smith of real skill.
So Lannor simply lifted his set of school armor onto the counter.
With a clang, the whole wooden counter trembled.
Fergus folded his arms and nodded with confidence.
“Oh, so you want repairs. This little job I can handle. No need to trouble the master...”
Before he could finish, the blond woman with the braid cut him off from behind.
“Don’t boast, Fergus. Open your eyes and look properly. That’s witcher armor.”
There was delight in her voice, the delight of seeing some rare treasure, and it made Lannor glance at her.
For the first time in a long while, someone had recognized witcher school armor at a glance.
“An expert, are you?”
The young man’s cat eyes moved between them.
Both wore aprons, but the difference was obvious. Fergus wore the leather apron common to blacksmiths, thick enough to stop hot sparks from the forge.
The human woman named Yuna wore only a cloth apron. In this shop, it looked suited for sweeping floors and little else.
Their aprons displayed their roles clearly. Apprentice and drudge.
But...
“A drudge scolding an apprentice on professional matters. Interesting.”
Among craftsmen, contempt usually followed skill and little else.
A human female drudge whose craft surpassed a male dwarf apprentice?
Could this world get any more magical?
Under Lannor’s subtle gaze, this “female drudge” arranged every part of the armor with practiced hands, laying the pieces neatly across the counter.
“A puncture in the abdomen ... halberd thrust? Deep one, too. Look at these mail rings. I’d wager this isn’t ordinary steel.”
Yuna’s face nearly pressed against the armor, as though she were caressing a treasure.
Lannor folded his arms and let her examine it. He also revealed a little about the armor.
“Witcher armor is mixed with monster tissue. That changes its performance from ordinary steel.”
“No wonder. Adding monster tissue into steel is craft only a master can command. You came to the right place.”
Yuna lifted her head from the armor and gave Lannor an embarrassed smile.
Then she turned to Fergus.
“Go call the master down. We truly can’t handle this job.”
The dwarf first shot Yuna an irritated look. Then, when the human drudge pointed at the card table scattered across the floor, he lowered his head and went upstairs.
Soon, Fergus came back down. Behind him followed a bald male dwarf.
Powerful build, compact and solid as an iron stump.
His beard was thick, dense, and neatly kept, though already streaked with gray.
He was much older than Fergus, at least a hundred and thirty.
The moment he came down, he went straight to the counter. Looking at the armor parts arranged in order, he showed satisfaction.
“Well done, Fergus. I taught you to sort armor parts by category. Seems you took it to heart. Good. Smarter than the dwarves in the Mahakam mines who know nothing but brute labor.”
Amid Fergus’ repeated flattery about “your excellent teaching,” the old dwarf turned to his customer.
“Fine armor. Maintenance is poor, though. Two hundred and twenty Orens. I’ll repair it, refit it to your body, and throw in a round of maintenance. How’s that?”
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