The giant crow, the giant swan, the black swan, and the giant peacock couple finally headed home.
I’d half-expected them to settle down in the village for good, so their departure came as quite a surprise. Apparently, the crow and the peacock couple had various duties to attend to elsewhere. As for the white and black swans, they seemed to have plenty of free time, but the crow spoke to them and escorted them away.
I suppose I should be thankful. Though, I wouldn't mind if the black swan decided to visit again.
Aegis, the phoenix chick, seemed lonely after the parting, but the eagle looked delighted to finally have Aegis all to himself again.
Now, as for that shimmering stone the giant crow gave me as compensation for the trouble they caused. It turned out to be a magical ore known as Mithril. It was a remarkably convenient material that could be made heavy or light, hard or soft, depending on how it was processed. Furthermore, it was in high demand across the world because it could act as a magic power amplifier.
The problem was that the ore itself was incredibly rare. Beyond that, the techniques required to work it were supposedly known only to a specific subset of dwarves. In other words, even if we had it in the village, it was about as useful as a pickling stone.
"The dwarves with the skill to work that metal? That would be us, the Elder Dwarves," Donovan said.
Since he was the one saying it, there was no reason to doubt him. According to Donovan, the Elder Dwarves had originally been a guild of blacksmiths specializing in Mithril. However, as the ore became scarce and they could no longer sustain their livelihood, they had transitioned into a guild of sake brewers.
That didn't mean they had abandoned their roots, though. While passing down the secrets of brewing, they continued to teach the techniques for handling Mithril to each new generation. As descendants of those masters, Donovan and his group still possessed the knowledge.
I was impressed. In that case, I decided to hand the Mithril over to them.
"Are you sure about this?" Donovan asked.
I told him it was fine. It was better for the ore to be in the hands of someone who actually knew how to use it. They were free to do whatever they wanted with it.
Summer was fast approaching. It was a bit early, but preparations for the pool began. The lizardmen took it upon themselves to handle the cleaning and the refilling. I was grateful for the help, but I felt bad doing nothing myself.
To contribute, I crafted some simple, hand-pumped water guns by boring holes through bamboo tubes. They were perfect little toys for the small children. They were a bit underwhelming for adults, but I figured the Mountain Elves would handle that side of things. I’d seen them huddled together for a while now, discussing ways to increase output and range.
The next day, the Mountain Elves approached me with wide smiles, eager to show off the water guns they’d built using a massive amount of bamboo.
Looking at the contraption, I had to wonder if "water gun" was even the right word for it. It featured six long bamboo barrels bundled together to form a rotating assembly that looked exactly like a Gatling gun. The user even had to wear a backpack containing a water tank and a power source fueled by several magic stones.
We conducted a test fire.
A line of wooden boards placed by the poolside was pulverized with a thunderous roar. The barrels spun, spitting out a relentless hail of water bullets. Technically, it was a water gun, but in reality, it was a heavy weapon. The reasonably large water tank was drained in the blink of an eye, bringing the demonstration to an end.
Or so I thought, until they extended a different bamboo tube into the pool. With a few rhythmic, clacking pumps of a lever, they began firing again. By drawing water directly from the pool, they could keep shooting until the magic stones ran dry.
I saw.
I immediately banned its use.
The Mountain Elves looked shocked, but I stood my ground. Most of the wooden boards they’d hit were shattered. That wasn't the kind of power you aimed at a person.
Still, I respected the ingenuity. They had managed to shorten the firing cycle by handling the intake, pressurization, and discharge for each barrel independently. And while the initial design had used a manual hand-crank, the decision to pivot to magic stones for power was brilliant. The deafening roar of the firing and the whine of the rotation were issues that needed addressing, but then again, having that much power unleashed silently would be even more terrifying, so perhaps the noise was a necessary warning.
It seemed a shame to let such technology go to waste, and the children were cheering after witnessing the power. But it was just too dangerous.
As I was agonizing over the decision, Dos patted me on the shoulder. He stood there in his dragon form and let the Mountain Elves unleash the Gatling gun on him. Apparently, even a direct hit from those high-pressure water bullets didn't hurt a dragon in the slightest. In fact, he found the stimulation quite pleasant, and noted that it was excellent for blasting dirt off his scales.
Soon, the children—at the invitation of the Mountain Elves—were climbing onto Dos’s back and gleefully firing away. It wasn't a bad use for the invention, but the surrounding area was becoming a swamp. I had them move the operation to the empty pool.
I told them they could fire to their heart's content, provided they never aimed it at anyone but a dragon. I also had to tell the dragons to stop forming a line. Getting a power-wash from that Gatling gun was a privilege limited to one dragon per day.
The following day, the Mountain Elves developed a version that functioned more like a high-pressure washer specifically for cleaning the dragons. I allowed that.
However, I had to ask: who was the one who equipped Hiichiro with a giant Gatling gun in his dragon form? He was currently shaking the trees in the forest with his water bullets. I wasn't looking for excuses about how the magic stones would run out after thirty seconds of continuous fire. It certainly looked impressive and heroic, but now Hiichiro was meticulously reloading his water and magic stones, searching for a new target.
I sighed. I supposed I’d just have to build some proper targets for him. I told Hiichiro he could only play with it for today, and that he was strictly forbidden from aiming at people—or even other dragons.
A few nights later, after dinner, I was served a beer in a glass I’d never seen before. It was remarkably light, and definitely wasn't made of glass.
"Is this Mithril?" I asked.
"Indeed," Donovan explained. "It’s a Mithril glass designed to maintain the temperature of whatever is inside."
So cold drinks stayed cold, and hot drinks stayed hot. That was incredibly practical.
"We managed to make seventeen of them. We’re presenting them all to you," he added.
I thanked him and decided on the allocation. I took one for my private use and gave six to the dwarves for their exclusive use. The remaining ten would be kept as village property.
"We are honored," Donovan said. "Also, we made this little bonus with the leftovers."
It was a Mithril corkscrew. I asked if it had any special magical properties.
"No, it’s just a corkscrew. We’d like you to have this as well."
I laughed and thanked him, but told him it would look much better in his hands than mine. I told him to keep it and use it as he pleased.
"Understood. You have my thanks."
As we spoke, I couldn't help but feel eyes on us. Gatto was watching from the shadows, and he wasn't alone; Lu and Tia were there too. Their gaze wasn't fixed on me, but on Donovan and his Mithril handiwork. They clearly had a thousand questions about the processing techniques.
"I didn't hide anything while I was working," Donovan muttered with an exasperated look. "Well, if they don't mind the ramblings of a drunkard, I suppose I can tell them a few things."
Donovan picked up his Mithril glass and a barrel of sake and headed toward the group. I felt a bit bad for the extra work, but I was sure they’d appreciate it.