“Thank you. I like the aroma. It’s not too strong, either,” Davey commented.

Golgouda nodded. “I’m glad you like it. Not all dwarves like strong liquor. Actually, I have something I want to talk to you about too.”

“Something else?”

‘Is he going to come at me for cutting his mithril anvil?’ Davey began to think of an excuse. As a joke, he thought that maybe he should hand over one of the twin swords as collateral.

Whoosh! Of course, Davey had to think of something else. The two swords, which didn’t even have conscious egos yet, vibrated in strong opposition to his idea.

“The truth is…”

“Ah, I’m sorry about the anvil. At a later time, I’ll…”

“Hm? What are you talking about?”

As Golgouda looked at him with a puzzled expression, Davey quickly shut his mouth. “Nothing. Anyway, what’s the matter?”

“Ahem! I may be old, but my ears are still fine. Other than finishing the last work of the ‘Thousand-day Blacksmith,’ I did hear that you wanted...