In all fairness, the Dwarf Kingdom had no desire to export so much mithril if it weren’t for the financial deficit.


    —Mithril requires divine magic for smelting! A piece of mithril the size of a palm consumes the divine magic of a high-order priest above level ten, along with five or six mid-level priests, for an entire day!


    Without the need to smelt mithril, such divine magic could be used to cure diseases, heal wounds, care for pregnant women and infants, benefiting countless clan members. Even if no one was ill, using it to forge weapons and armor could bring them closer to the Father God, right?


    If it weren’t for the sheer exhaustion from massive ore mining, they wouldn’t have been so desperate to negotiate prices!


    Thus, when Archmage Serrano proposed the plan, the dwarves quickly agreed to see a sample. The Dwarf King’s city was situated within a mountain, and not far from the civilian district lay the extensive mining tunnels. Finding a spot to test the steam engine was hardly an inconvenience.


    But, even with the steam engine, wouldn’t other equipment need to be custom-made first?


    Garrett followed down into the mine, bewildered. Then, he watched as Harry, with a flash of light, deployed the steam engine, which landed heavily on the ground. Immediately after, Harry pointed to the pre-delivered copper and iron ingots piled nearby...


    The metal blocks transformed on the spot into gears, bearings, levers, and various parts. Harry directed the dwarves to pick them up one by one for on-site assembly, fitting everything perfectly together!


    Even having witnessed great figures handcraft mercury rectifiers, Garrett was still overwhelmed by the spectacle. It wasn’t until the steam engine pulled the mining carts up the slope with clanking sounds that he began to grasp the enormity:


    ...The capabilities of transmutation mages are simply unscientific!


    The dwarves began their calculations. A single steam engine working at full capacity was equivalent to at least 20 dwarves, tirelessly hauling ore up the slope all day. Moreover, it could work both day and night, meaning it could free fifty or sixty dwarves from the tedious life of transporting ore...


    And it only required one person to oversee! The fire came from natural magma, and water was drawn from snow outside the caverns. The overseer only needed to maintain and occasionally clear the boiler’s base! This was far easier than dragging heavy mining carts up from the depths along tracks.


    By this calculation, even if the production of mithril ore increased twentyfold, the labor exerted by the dwarves would not increase but actually become much easier.


    This deal was worth making!


    The sturdy hand of a dwarf elder immediately grasped Harry’s, shaking it vigorously:


    "This is excellent!"


    Negotiations progressed swiftly. The dwarves would exert less effort for the same amount of money, plus they received additional orders—the trade delegation provided processing dimensions for 20 steam engines and promised future orders—leaving them overjoyed.


    His skull melted into the azure sky.


    From his arm marrow, dwarves emerged,


    Gnomes sprouted from his finger marrow.


    The especially strong femur,


    Gave birth to the barbarian brothers..."


    Dwarves, humans, orcs, and barbarians gathered under the dome. Garrett guarded his plate listlessly, facing a wooden goblet larger than his head, with no appetite. The feast was lavish, with steaming pies filled with sheep offal, beer-braised pork ribs, smoked deer meat, and at least three different colored blood sausages...


    But after this journey, he had grown weary of such fare.


    He craved vegetables... he missed fruits... Why hadn’t he brought more fruit cans before leaving? No, why hadn’t he developed fruit cans while at the mage tower?


    "Bernard, it’s all yours..."


    Garrett pushed his plate aside. As the bard moved on to the third song, cheers suddenly intensified. The seven elders entered in procession, followed by the white-bearded Dwarf King, who greeted guests with a smile and a wave as he walked.


    Garrett strained to see. At 400 years old, the Dwarf King resembled a centenarian in human terms, with sagging skin, thinning hair, and many age spots. Yet, his steps through the aisle remained firm, ascending the stairs without needing assistance, indicating his past as a formidable warrior.


    The King took his seat on the throne, elevated above Garrett and visible to all guests. Then, he lifted a golden helmet filled with wine above his head:


    "Thank you, dear guests, for attending my birthday feast! After today, the selection for a new king will begin, and I will follow tradition, passing the crown to the new king!"


    Garrett: "...What?"


    Does our agreement still stand?


    Can we sign tomorrow?


    ---------------


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