"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!"
"Move it! Are you trying to give that wood a massage?"
The dwarf roared, flailing his arms. Before him, a young man worked in silence.
No one else dared to provoke the craftsman. Everyone knew the dwarf craftsman was someone the Lord highly favored. It wasn't just him; masons, blacksmiths, and even minstrels were all extraordinary in the Lord's eyes. To use Gelan's imitation of the Lord: "What's most important? Talent!"
The Lord greatly admired talented people with special skills. Often, someone who knew a bit about masonry or some other small craft would receive better working conditions than usual. This wasn't just for commoners; even some slaves could gain distinct advantages this way.
"So short-tempered?" Leech said as he walked over.
The dwarf craftsman, who had just been aggressively scolding anyone he could find, immediately bowed when he saw the Lord approach. He stooped so low he was barely knee-high. "Good day, my Lord."
