Free B01DCAV4W2 (S) by Aleron Kong

normally high steel.  Why would anyone make something out of steel or plain iron?”
    “Well milord, there be a few reasons.  Ye must be at least an Apprentice rank smith.  Ye also must know how to make xanthite.  It not be hard, but ye still must know the trick of it.  Also because it be a higher grade material smiths do charge more and it takes longer to forge.  It be much cheaper for a noble to outfit most of his guards with iron or simple steel.”
    “So if we make only high steel weapons and armor, then we will be better equipped than most people out there?”  Richter asked.
    Krom scratched his salt and pepper beard, “I can guarantee we will have an edge over any goblin tribal scum or even most of them bugbears.  I wouldn’t hang yer hat on having better gear in general.  Mercenary guilds will have many members with specialty armor, and the higher ranked soldiers in Yves may even have magic arms and armor.  We have a long way to go if ye want to go head to head with groups like that!”
    After that Krom had no more time for his liege apparently.  He took the rest of the scales and then said absently that he would work on them, but his focus was obviously on the Forge.  The other dwarves had started stoking the fires near the central anvil while the smith was taking Richter’s measurements and now they started heating a high steel ingot.  The dwarves got to work with a single minded obsession and not even a ‘goodbye milord’ was thrown in Richter’s direction as he walked out.  
    Richter realized that recently he hadn’t been correcting people to just call him Richter anymore.  The ‘milords’ and ‘your Lordships’ had started to feel natural.  He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.  It was true that he definitely didn’t want to become an elitist a-hole that didn’t value others.  On the other hand, if he was going to lead his people, then he needed to be a leader.  Back in Georgia he had been raised to say ‘Yessir’ and ‘No ma’am.’  That wasn’t to be a kiss-ass.  That had been because showing the proper respect was a social convention that made society run smoother.  To be sure he had also said some ‘less nice’ things to people when the situation required it, and their age be damned, but that was the exception, not the rule.  Whatever his thought process behind it, he had to admit that it felt comfortable to be given respect as a matter of course.  He was the Master of the village, so he would just need to live up to it. 
    As if the Universe wanted to stress the point, Richter was again reminded of his responsibility to his people and his earlier mistakes.  When he looked around after leaving the Forge he saw three people, two men and a woman standing off to the side.  They had a melancholy air, and when they saw Richter, there was no smile or happy greeting. They merely bobbed their heads and then dispersed.
    Randolphus had remained at Richter’s side through the entire transformation of the Forge and walked out with him.  Richter spoke to his chamberlain, “I feel bad about this, but I don’t remember their names,” he said indicating the three.
    “They are farmers, my Lord.  The woman is Parul, the taller man was Wuren and the shorter is Lenric.”
    “Why did it seem like they were avoiding me?” Richter asked.
    “They all lost loved ones during the bugbear attack,” Randolphus said gently.
    Richter’s chest clamped up.  Over the past several weeks in the dungeon, he had been focused on just surviving.  When he had come back to the village, there had been another flurry of activity with Hisako’s response to the eaters being back in the Forest.  The fact was he hadn’t really wanted to dwell on the lives that had been lost during the attack, an attack that had happened because of his poor judgement.  Seeing the sadness that his people were still living with every day, brought it all flooding back.  He watched them walk off and