While a crew cleaned the recently cleared mine path, Sinclair was given a secluded place to recover. Without a shower, he retrieved water containers to cleanse himself and his two companions. The pair wagged their tails, reveling in the affectionate grooming, still filled with the thrill of triumph.

Lord Garret came over and eventually took a seat next to Sinclair. Looking around her, he noticed another person trailing behind her, standing at a respectful distance, content to observe for the moment.

"I've been watching you and thinking we could help each other out," she began, a thoughtful expression gracing her features. "It's astonishing how you manage to wield such capabilities despite being so fresh to the system. You're an enigma, Sinclair. Most people would seek to control or destroy you, fearing what you may become. I propose something different. I want to work together."

Pondering her words momentarily, she leaned in closer, lowering her voice as though to share a secret. "I've decided to entrust you with a matter of great importance. Clearly, you're no ordinary System initiate. I believe you could be pivotal to figuring out what is going on deeper in the mine."

Lord Garret took a moment to gather her thoughts before laying out her proposal. "We have a vested interest in the stability of that mine, as you might imagine. You've already done much to stop those forces, but we suspect the problem's source lies deeper within. Handle it for us, and we can offer substantial benefits in return."

Her eyes locked onto Sinclair's, clearly evaluating his reaction. "Since Midgard was a realm we could previously access, we've discovered that we can indeed return via the portal here in Svartalfheim. If you fully secure the mine, we intend to send troops through the tunnel, open the cave entrance on your side, and establish an outpost. This would facilitate trade and communication between our realms."

Sinclair could feel his heart rate speeding up a little at the thought of being able to get aid back to his family. This would also solve several of their problems. He just had to trudge into dark mines that people kept getting killed in. Sighing internally to himself, and for the thousandth time, he wondered why him. Of course, he wouldn't turn down the option to make a great ally and send help back home.

"We're also willing to assign a couple of guards to patrol Wolf's Run," she added, "provided you're open to setting up a sort of embassy for us there. Think of it as a mutual exchange program. You'll gain access to some of our knowledge, training resources, and technology. In return, you can sell your surplus resources to us at much better rates than the system offers. Trust me, the System's prices are quite exorbitant; one quickly learns to reserve them for particular necessities."

She sat back, letting Sinclair think about it. Usually, they wouldn't offer so much assistance to an unknown force, but in this instance, it was a long-term investment she felt would pay dividends. It's a lot to consider, but the potential economic, strategic, and educational benefits are enormous. Both realms would have much to gain from such an alliance. "So, what do you say, Sinclair?" she finally asked, locking eyes with him again, looking for his verdict.

Sinclair leaned back, absorbing the magnitude of Lord Garrett's proposal. "Before we shake on it, I've got one condition. If we go the formal route with a signed document, can we draft it in plain language? No legalese or intricate clauses. Just straightforward terms that anyone can understand."

A smile tugged at the corners of Garrett's lips. "You dislike the convolution of legal jargon as much as I do? You're a man after my own heart. Agreed, it will be as plain-spoken as possible."

Nodding, she turned to introduce the figure standing silently behind her. "This is Elric Golden Shield, my chief advisor and the person I'd like to appoint as our ambassador to Wolf's Run."

Elric stepped forward, nodding respectfully towards Sinclair.

Returning the nod and triggering Valkyrie Gaze, Sinclair said, "If that's the case, I've got no objections. But I'll be heading back down into the mine shortly. You said you could offer some assistance; would it be possible to gather some supplies? I have a list."

Name: Elric Golden Shield

Level: ??

Description: A former military officer known for leadership and tactical brilliance, Elric Golden Shield now serves as Lady Garret's ambassador. His military experience honed his discipline and diplomacy, making him a respected figure in negotiations and conflict resolution. With unwavering integrity and loyalty, Elric embodies the transition from soldier to statesman with dedication and adaptability.

After getting a brief nod, he handed over the list and mentioned a few key items. He knew that the deeper reaches of the mine could pose unforeseen challenges. He always had his system shop interface if necessary, but he didn't want to get into the habit of relying on it.

"We'll take care of it immediately," Lord Garret assured him. Rest and recuperate for a few hours; you'll need your strength."

"Sounds like a plan," Sinclair replied, content that they had reached a mutually beneficial agreement. He glanced over at Chewy and Leia, confirming they were okay with the arrangement, too. He got two nods, assuring him he was doing the right thing, agreeing to this town setting up a small force in his space. Satisfied, he prepared to rest up for the challenging journey ahead. With this in place, he could afford to take a little time since help was being sent to his family.

Guided by one of the City Lord's guards, Sinclair was escorted to a nearby troop barracks. A satisfying meal awaited him to settle his rather loud stomach rumblings, accompanied by a comfortable cot for his rest. As for Chewy and Leia, soft and plush rugs were laid out on the floor, providing them with a cozy place to relax after having some food.

Sinclair seized the opportunity to catch an hour of sleep, physically and mentally preparing for the task ahead in the treacherous depths of the mine. His increased endurance made getting so little sleep very beneficial.

Lying there for an hour was a nice way to relax, and he took a few moments to stretch out the stiffness in his muscles. After checking on Chewy and Leia, he let them continue relaxing. He cleared some lingering notifications on his System interface, knowing he had another hour before they set out again.

Exiting the barracks, he wandered through the stone-laden streets and stumbled upon what appeared to be a local eatery. He wasn't starving like he had been, but he laughed internally. "You might as well eat while you can," he thought. He observed patrons sitting at stone tables, engaging in lively conversation as they enjoyed their meals. Intrigued, he made his way over. The bartender, spotting him, hurried over to greet him.

"Ah, you must be Sinclair! News travels fast. We've all heard of your recent accomplishments. Congratulations!" The bartender beamed with enthusiasm. "If you're hungry, our specials for today are fried stone fish with potatoes or Coravox steak, accompanied by fresh vegetables. Which would you prefer?"

Feeling the pangs of hunger stir, Sinclair smiled back. This was precisely what he needed before embarking on his next adventure.

Sinclair laughed at the similarities: fish and chips or steak and veg. He figured that if they were eating it here, he should be able to. Sinclair nodded at the bartender's raised eyebrow. "One of each, please. And a mead to go with it."

He had had mead at a local Ren Faire before and was excited to try it here.

"Quite the appetite you've got there. Coming right up!" The bartender hurried away to prepare Sinclair's orders.

When the food arrived, Sinclair was taken aback by its delectability. Each bite was an explosion of flavor that he hadn't expected. As he savored the meal, he made a mental note to ask Garret, now on a first-name basis, if she'd consider sending a culinary envoy to Earth. There would be a definite market for this level of cuisine back home.

Feeling satiated and nearing overindulgence, Sinclair stood up, leaving a few coins on the table as a tip, unsure of the custom here. As he strolled back towards the shopping district, he noticed he had a tail—specifically, one of the guards from yesterday trailing vaguely discreetly behind him. With a casual hand gesture, Sinclair motioned for the guard to join him at his side.

Might as well make friends, he thought to himself, smiling at the prospect of building connections in this strange yet increasingly familiar world.

"Name's Reinar of the Sunderer clan," the guard said, offering a firm handshake as he stepped beside Sinclair. "I've got to say, you've made quite an impression around here quickly."

"Thanks, Reinar. The feeling's mutual; you all have been very welcoming. I wondered where I could get some decent boots—something more than common footwear. Got any suggestions?"

Reinar's eyes lit up at the question. "Ah, you're in luck! My uncle is one of the best magical artificers in the area. He specializes in enchanted gear. If you want boots with special perks, he's the guy to see."

"Sounds perfect," Sinclair replied. "Do you mind leading the way?"

"Not at all, follow me."

Sinclair glanced at Reinar curiously as they walked through the winding path toward their destination. "Tell me, Reinar, where do your last names come from? I've heard some rather interesting ones so far and was curious about the naming convention, if that's not rude to ask."

Reinar smiled, seemingly unbothered by the question. "Not rude at all. Most clans are proud of their ancestral lines and how we got here," he began, his tone carrying a sense of pride. "Take our clan, for example. We had a forefather famous for his skill with the Sunder power. He could direct the energies only to affect the enemy, even if cast where allies stood. His power was so great that he founded a clan around his abilities and the gifts he earned during the wars in the Deeps, especially after the last kobold incursion."

"That's fascinating," Sinclair replied, examining the implications of such lineage. "Do family names change if a new member outshines their predecessor?"

Reinar shrugged slightly, the easy movement accompanied by a chuckle. "Eh, not really. If a prodigy emerges, they're usually exalted as an elder. They could create their clan if they wanted, but most prefer to stay as elders within their clan. Starting a new one brings its own set of unique problems."

Sinclair nodded, the logic behind it making sense. "That makes sense; thank you for explaining. Is there anything I should know about your uncle before we arrive?"

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Reinar's expression shifted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "He's a bit eccentric. So don't be put off by his gruff demeanor. He's usually in his world and doesn't like interruptions."

"Fair enough. Lead on, my friend," Sinclair said, gesturing for Reinar to continue as they walked through the meticulously organized rows of vendors, mentally preparing himself for whatever eccentricities his uncle might throw his way.

They navigated the city's bustling streets, weaving between townsfolk and traders as the noise of everyday life filled the air. The clamor of blacksmiths hammering at their forges, the lively chatter of merchants hawking their wares, and the distant murmur of magical energies at work created a chaotic and alive atmosphere. Reinar led the way confidently, his strides long and purposeful, while Sinclair took in the sights and sounds around him with curiosity and awe.

As they rounded a corner, Sinclair's eyes were drawn to a well-kept shop between two taller buildings. Its exterior was modest but well-maintained, with carved wooden trim that shimmered faintly as though touched by magic. The windows were adorned with various magical trinkets and baubles, each catching the cave light in a way that hinted at enchantments woven deep into their design. Above the door, a hand-painted sign bearing the name Thrainn's Enchanted Wares.

The moment they stepped closer, Sinclair could feel the shift in the air. The shop had a pulse, a subtle thrum of energy resonating in his bones. He paused briefly, glancing at Reinar, who smiled knowingly.

"Thrainn's always been one to imbue his creations with a little extra flair," Reinar said as he pushed open the heavy wooden door. The sound of a small bell chiming echoed within, signaling their arrival.

Inside, the shop was a treasure trove of magical artifacts and curiosities. Shelves lined the walls, filled with enchanted items, from gleaming swords to intricate armor pieces. Each piece had its own story, and the craftsmanship was impeccable. Glowing runes adorned the hilts of weapons, faintly illuminating their surroundings in soft blue, green, and red hues. Suits of armor stood tall in the corners, their metal shimmering with protective spells that Sinclair could feel.

In the center of the room, a long glass display case housed more delicate items: rings, amulets, and finely crafted necklaces, each radiating its unique aura. Sinclair's gaze lingered on a sword suspended in a glass case on the far wall. Its blade glowed faintly with a silvery light; it looked ancient yet flawless, the metal humming with power. He couldn't help but wonder about its origins and what kind of magic had been imbued within it.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Reinar remarked, noticing Sinclair's awe. "Thrainn's a master at what he does. Every item here is handcrafted; you won't find most enchantments elsewhere. He's picky about who gets to buy, though."

Sinclair nodded, still absorbing the sheer magnitude of the arcane craftsmanship around him. "It's… remarkable. I've never seen anything like it."

Before he could inspect more closely, a loud crash echoed from the back room, followed by a gruff voice muttering curses. Reinar smirked. "That'd be my uncle."

Moments later, a figure emerged behind the thick velvet curtain, wiping soot-stained hands on a well-worn leather apron. Thrainn, stout and broad-shouldered, with wild, graying hair and soot-streaked spectacles perched on his nose, gave the newcomers a hard, scrutinizing look. His sharp eyes flickered over Sinclair, lingering momentarily before settling on Reinar. His expression didn't change, but his bushy eyebrows lifted slightly in recognition.

"Reinar," he grunted, the word carrying years of familiarity.

Before Sinclair could introduce himself, Reinar stepped in. "This is Sinclair, the Wolf Lord. He helped fend off the attack earlier and will be heading into the mines soon."

Thrainn's eyes flicked back to Sinclair, his gaze sharpening. His lips pressed into a thin line as if he were weighing the information carefully. He said nothing momentarily, then grunted again, less dismissive this time, almost acknowledging.

"What do you need?" Thrainn finally muttered, the words barely more than a growl.

Sinclair blinked, caught off guard by the brevity of the question. "Uh, well, I've sorted most of my gear, but I could use better boots. The ones I've got are... basic. No special attributes. I think an upgrade would be smart before I enter the mines."

Thrainn grunted in response, a sound that could have been agreement or disinterest—it was hard to tell. Without another word, he turned and disappeared deeper into the shop, weaving through the clutter with surprising speed toward the area where the work appeared to be finished—but the material piles he was pulling from seemed to lack any of the magical flair found in the front of the shop. Piles of magical items, armor, and strange artifacts were scattered about, but Thrainn navigated them effortlessly. His hands moved quickly over the objects, picking up a few, inspecting them for a moment, and then discarding them with a grunt.

After minutes of searching, Thrainn reemerged, carrying a pair of knee-high moccasins. They looked worn but sturdy, and the leather was soft and supple. He placed them on the counter with a brief grunt, barely sparing them a glance.

He disappeared again into the labyrinth of gear, only to return with a second pair of boots—rough leather with exaggerated folds and straps. They had a pirate-like flair, rugged and worn by time. He set them beside the moccasins, offering a brief grunt.

Finally, he vanished one last time into the mess of artifacts, returning with something unexpected: a pair of knee-high laced sandals like those worn by Roman soldiers. Thrainn dropped them on the counter with the same indifferent grunt, stepping back to let Sinclair examine his choices.

Sinclair studied the three options before him. Thrainn stood silently, arms crossed, his face impassive. The only sound that escaped him was another grunt, more of a question this time. "Well?"

Thrainn gestured for Sinclair to try them on, gesturing to a nearby wooden stool. Sinclair complied, assuming he was expected to do it manually instead of using his interface. He slipped his feet into each pair while the old man observed silently, his eyes tracking every movement. The air in the shop felt heavy, charged with some unseen energy, as Thrainn's critical gaze lingered on each step Sinclair took. He took several steps in each pair, all while under Thrainn's ever-watchful eye.

After an eternity of quiet scrutiny, Thrainn finally gave a single, firm nod. "Two hours," he muttered, the words barely audible.

Sinclair exchanged a glance with Reinar, who stifled a grin. That was as much of a commitment as anyone would get from the taciturn shopkeeper. Without pressing further, Sinclair nodded and followed Reinar out of the shop, wondering what enchantments the old man would work into the boots during those two hours.

"So, care to fill me in? What was all that about? That is past when I planned on leaving. Is he doing the enchanting now?"

"You're in his good books, believe it or not," the guard chuckled. "The last person who requested a custom item was practically hurled out of the shop. Thrainn is, well, not exactly a people person. And I will send word of the delay, so no worries. An hour won't make a difference. When he does make something unique, he uses high-quality materials that already have the basic rune work done, and then once he has a sense for the person, he does his work specific to that person."

Shaking his head, Sinclair marveled at this world's peculiar customs and characters. "Well, if being in his good books means I get some quality gear, I won't complain."

"Ah, you'll get more than quality gear; you'll get Thrainn-crafted gear. That's another level altogether," the guard assured him, still beaming.

Taking the guard's words at face value, Sinclair simply accepted the good fortune for what it was. After all, in a land as unpredictable as Svartálfheim, he was learning to appreciate the small victories.

He eventually returned to the restaurant where he'd had lunch, ordering two sizable steaks. "One for each of my furry friends," he told the bartender, who chuckled and nodded, accustomed to adventurers pampering their companions.

Balancing the tray carefully, Sinclair entered the barracks where Chewy and Leia were taking their well-deserved rest. As he opened the door, he watched their noses twitch, the delightful scent of cooked meat filling the air. They got up, tails wagging, clearly anticipating a tasty meal.

"As soon as I pick up my new boots, we'll be ready to tackle whatever's next," Sinclair said, setting down the tray and watching the wolves eagerly devour their steaks.

Everything was falling into place. New gear, well-fed companions, and an intriguing alliance are on the horizon. Sinclair couldn't help but feel that, despite the challenges and oddities of Svartalfheim, things were starting to look up.

He checked over his stats for some time, realizing he hadn't done that in a while. Pulling up the screen, he liked what he saw.

Name: Sinclair Hagerson

Race: Human

Level: 0 (23)

Rank: F

Path: Journey of the Wolf

Class: Ulfhednar

Health: 1770

Mana: 1410

Stamina: 2120

Strength: 206

Agility: 177

Constitution: 177

Intelligence: 141

Willpower: 152

Endurance: 212

Luck: 24

Available Points: 90

His additions from the fight at the gate had netted him some points. Constitution and Endurance jumped the most, considering he had been hurt badly enough to need a health potion.

Your base stats have changed!

+2 Strength

+1 Agility

+4 Constitution

+2 Willpower

+4 Endurance

He chided himself again to be more mindful about acknowledging such notifications. He would have to remember to ask someone if there was a better way to keep up to date on notifications instead of having to sit down for 30 minutes at a time to clear them out. Secretly, though, he knew he would probably forget again. He hoped that letting them roll through in the bottom corner of his viewing might work, such as checking them and adding the stats as he was accruing them, but that had not worked so far.

Later, as Sinclair walked toward the store to pick up his boots, a messenger intercepted him, slightly out of breath. "Sir, the City Lord said she'll meet you at the gate when you are ready."

Nodding his head, Sinclair continued to pick up his new boots. He wanted the shoes that went with his set for the Wolf Lords, but he couldn't waste a slot on everyday boots like he had been doing. Mentally sending a message to Chewy and Leia to tell them to meet him at the wall when ready.

Upon reaching the shop, Sinclair found it eerily empty. His eyes landed on a pair of dark green boots displayed on a table by the door, accompanied by a note. He observed the foreign runes etched on the shoes, momentarily puzzled. Then, his language skill kicked in, translating the runes to "Wolf Lord."

Glancing at the nearby guard, Sinclair remarked, "Looks like these are on the house. I wouldn't argue with that, would you?"

Chuckling, the guard shook his head. "If Thrainn left them for you, best not to question it."

Eagerly, Sinclair analyzed the boots. Forest Dragonstride Boots was an interesting name. Not wasting any time, he stored them and equipped them instead of using his old plain boots. As they contoured to his feet, he could feel a surge of energy flow through him. "Ahhhh, Forest Dragon Skin," he muttered, "that is comfortable stuff." Wiggling his toes in the boots, he marveled at their comfort.

New Item: Forest Dragonstride Boots (Unique)

Description: Forged from the distilled essence of a rare forest dragon, these boots pulse with the vibrant energy of ancient woodlands. The leather, supple and dark green with streaks of iridescent scales, shimmers faintly in the light as if the spirit of the forest itself resides within. Each step in these boots feels as though the wearer is guided by the very roots and winds of the deep woods, moving with a predatory grace and unshakable balance. Designed for swiftness and endurance, they echo the resilience and silent power of the elusive forest dragons, making the wearer feel lighter, stronger, and in harmony with the natural world.

Benefits:

+10 Agility

+4 Constitution

Passive bonus to movement precision and balance

The guard looked intrigued. "Really? What do they do?"

Sinclair pulled up his information screen, scanning the item's stats and special abilities. "Apart from boosting agility by 10 points and constitution by 4, they've got this passive bonus to movement for precision and balance."

"Sounds like a perfect fit for where you are headed," the guard said, impressed.

"Absolutely," Sinclair agreed, taking a moment to admire the moccasin style Thrainn had chosen. "He even went with the style I had liked the most—moccasins. They are not just comfortable, but they look cool too." Realizing he was nerding out more than he wanted to be seen doing, he nodded and started heading towards the gate.

As he jogged towards the gate to meet up, Sinclair couldn't help but reflect on how everything had been progressing for him lately, especially as he approached level 24. Just one more level, and he would finally have the opportunity to evolve his race. The anticipation of what this transformation would entail filled him with excitement. If he ever had a moment to catch his breath, he resolved to seek out someone who could provide more information about this significant milestone.

As Sinclair approached the gate, he was greeted by Garrett, who led a small task force. "We'll establish a forward operating base at the first significant junction in the tunnel," she informed him. Should you require assistance, return there, and we'll do our best to provide support."

"Understood," Sinclair replied, nodding his approval. He took note of the supplies the City Lord had arranged for him and, with a quick mental command, transported them into his storage device. Thank goodness for this thing, he thought, grateful for the convenience of the magical storage. Otherwise, carrying all this would have been nearly impossible.

With little fanfare and not one for prolonged farewells, Sinclair nodded again to the City Lord. "Thank you for the supplies and support. We'll do our best to secure the area for your team."

Garrett returned the nod and turned to her people. At her signal, the troops started preparing for their mission, moving in sync with practiced ease.

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