“Not so long ago, you went to see why Wyvernshield has holed up in his workshop, right?” Cybil asked Hazelmere, who was observing the portal through the magescope.

“Yes.”

“So … why have all the other dwarves joined him now? I thought you were supposed to get him out of there, but now all the dwarves are hiding from us. They have even stopped building those weird contraptions of theirs. How did you do that?”

Hazelmere let out a sigh as her ears went flat on top of her head.

“I gave him the book on demonic mathematics.”

“The one that makes sense but has no point?”

“Yes, that one. Ever since then, the dwarves refuse to leave the workshop. They are obsessed with it. Wyvernshield tried explaining why that book is awesome, but I still don’t get it. After a while, he dismissed me with: you mages have no idea.”

“Even though the dwarves can be extremely intelligent, they aren’t known for being wise.”

Hazelmere gave Cybil a cautious grin: “Are you trying to make me feel better?”

“Of course not. I am just stating the obvious. Anyway, still nothing on the other side?”

“Nothing. Not even after several weeks have passed.”

“Maybe we have sent something we shouldn’t have?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Different cultures have different taboos. Maybe the dwarves have sent something the demons find offensive?”

“And what could the demons possibly find offensive?”

“I don’t know! But, for example, if they had sent us a book with the paintings of naked angels, we would probably find it offensive. If the priests would learn of it, they would be outraged. I bet Moana would faint if she would see such a painting.”

Hazelmere shook her head lightly: “Why would they send us naked angels?”

“I don’t know, that is the first thing that came to my mind! With them being sex demons and all. The point is, we can be certain that our sensibilities are different. So, maybe the dwarves have sent something the demons don’t appreciate.”

“I have inspected all of their trinkets. And, while I have no idea what most of them do, I am certain it is nothing to be offended about.”

“What about the weapons? We have sent them some basic weapons, didn’t we? What if sending a weapon is seen as a declaration of war in hell?”

Hazelmere’s tail and ears shot up in horror: “Do you think that could be the case?”

“I bet they just need more time.”

Turning around to identify the male voice, Hazelmere saw Heartwell and Mizette standing next to her.

“I bet they have to report to their palace, just like we do,” Mizette continued where Heartwell has started, “and moving through frozen hell can’t be easy. Also, there is no way they have trinkets at the ready, so they are probably waiting for their ruler to send some gifts.”

“What a coincidence for both of you to arrive at the same time,” Cybil commented.

“We were very busy this morning,” Mizette’s response had an odd melodic quality to it.

“I don’t need to know. I am not your mother.”

“Well, you asked!”

“I didn’t! I just stated the obvious.”

“Anyway, I wouldn’t worry too much,” Heartwell ignored the playful spat, “of course, we should be ready for anything, but I’m confident they just need more time.”

“I have never realized it but, sending a weapon can really be …”

“You are worrying over nothing,” Mizette said as she ruffled Hazelmere’s hair, “you are letting Cybil get the better of you. You know how much she enjoys messing with you.”

“I am just considering all the possibilities, including the unpleasant ones.”

“Why are you always such a downer?” Mizette frowned exaggeratedly.

“Somebody has to be real here.”

“Ok, knock it off, both of you!” Hazelmere commanded.

Both Mizette and Cybil looked at Hazelmere with surprised looks on their faces. Then, back at each other. Then, back at Hazelmere.

“If you say so, boss.”

---

It took two more weeks, but the big construct did return. And it returned with a load of gifts. There were so many of them, the dwarves had to construct a temporary storage facility in a single day just to store them.

Since the command tent was filled with the books, the gifts couldn’t be delivered there. So, until the dwarves have constructed the storehouse, Hazelmere and her retinue examined the gifts in the open. Wyvernshield was also with them, too eager to wait until the storehouse is finished.

“What are all these things?” It almost sounded like Mizette was complaining.

“I think I found something you’d be interested in,” Heartwell said, as he was giving some boxy thing to Wyvernshield.

“What is … knives?”

“I guess that’s what’s in the box.”

“And why would a box have a handle?”

“How would I know that?”

“What is that?” Hazelmere straightened her neck to take a better look.

“There’s a paintin’ of knives on the box. Hold on … this box is too light!”

“It’s definitely not made out of wood,” Heartwell commented.

“What in the rocks is this thing? Is this even a box?” Wyvernshield’s voice was a strange mix of both irritation and excitement.

As Wyvernshield struggled to open the strange boxy thing, the others turned their attention elsewhere.

“There is another weird box here.”

“There are too many boxes all around! These demons are putting everything in the boxes!”

“At least they are keeping everything tidy and well arranged,” Natle noticed.

“This one is very small. And, unlike the others, it looks like a regular box.”

Cybil opened the small, wooden box, finding a weird contraption inside.

“Ok, it doesn’t store anything. It has some kind of a … roller, I guess? And some small metal parts.”

“Is that some kind of a handle on the side of it?” Hazelmere asked.

“These demons really like their handles,” Mizette grumbled.

“Yes, there is, but you can’t carry it with it. The handle is too small.”

Cybil grabbed the small handle with her thumb and index finger.

“Oh, it looks like it isn’t stuck in place. It can move around.”

As Cybil started turning the handle, the box started making pleasant, musical notes. Surprised to hear them, she stopped.

“What was that?”

“Is that like … a musical instrument?”

“I … I don’t… I guess it could be a self-playing instrument because all you can do is turn this handle.”

As Cybil continued turning the handle, the notes combined into a soothing melody.

“Ohh! I see what it’s doing!” Cybil exclaimed excitedly.

“What?”

“Come and see this! See, look at this! See these little metal things next to the roller?”

“Ok.”

“And do you see these bumps on the roller itself?”

“Yes, they are quite obvious.”

“Look what is happening when I turn the handle! The bumps on the roller lift the metal thingies up, and then they fall back, producing sounds! The different lengths give different notes!”

“That’s… that’s so clever!” Hazelmere got the expression of an amazed child.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Mizette outstretched her hand towards the box, “so, there is no magic involved at all?”

“None at all! The movement of the handle is all it takes!”

“But, then again, that is how all the musical instruments work,” Natle pointed out.

“None of them play notes on their own though.”

“I finally got it!” Wyvernshield yelled. Looking at him, everyone saw he has finally opened the strange, black box.

“That’s a very useful way to seal a box,” he continued, “that way, it won’t open even when you’re carryin’ it sideways. But what’s this? Hmm …” he started letting out uncontrolled sounds of excitement as he inspected the knives, “this is some good metal! It’s… hard, durable, flexible, and lightweight! It looks like its properties are similar to orichalcum.”

“I’ve found another thing you may find interesting,” Heartwell said, as he lifted an alien sword up in the air.

“What kind of sword is that?” Vukasin wondered out loud, “It’s too thin and too long! And what is that massive thing just below the blade?”

“Hmm …” Heartwell tested the sword, swishing it through the air, “it’s long but fast. And it’s very light for its size. I guess the thin blade helps reduce its weight. And the thing below the blade is some sort of shield, I guess. It goes around your hand, protecting it.”

“Why is it hollow then?”

“To reduce the mass,” Wyvernshield responded, “but, to make it durable enough to take a hit you’d have to have … give it to me! Let me get a closer look!” He extended the palm of his hand, as if he expected his demand to be fulfilled immediately.

“Let me try something first,” Heartwell said, after which he grabbed the blade carefully and started bending it sideways.

As soon as he saw what Heartwell was doing, Wyvernshield started raging like mad.

“You’ll break it, you jackass!”

“What’s the purpose of a sword that breaks easily?” There was no emotion in Heartwell’s voice.

“What in the …” Vukasin looked at what Heartwell was doing to the sword in amazement. He bent the blade so much, its tip faced Mizette who stood next to him, “is that even metal?”

“It certainly feels like one,” after saying that, Heartwell released his grip on the blade. It immediately shot back to its original position.

“No way …” the rage in Wyvernshield’s voice was replaced with awe.

Heartwell did the same thing again, with the same result.

“Has it lost some of its elasticity or strength?” The dwarf asked.

“It doesn’t look like it. It still feels the same.”

“How … why? Why would you use a bending sword?” Vukasin still couldn’t get to grips with it.

“I know why, ’tis because that sword was designed to fight heavily armored foes,” Wyvernshield spoke like a wise elder who knew his time has come.

“How so?”

“If you use a blade on a well-armored opponent, there’s a good chance you’ll break or bend it. That’s why we dwarves love hammers. Blades are too brittle to handle the stress necessary to defeat good, durable armor. However, it looks like these people have found a solution. They made their blades elastic so that, when it hits the armor, it will bounce back undamaged. That’s also why the blade is so thin. It reduces the area which makes contact with the target, focusin’ all of its piercin’ power on the tip.”

“Like a spear?”

“Yes, but only on the tip. The rest of it works like a regular sword. Also, havin’ a thin blade makes it easier to control the sword and hit the enemy’s armor’s weak points. Especially since this looks like a one-handed sword.”

“What about cutting? Won’t that make the blade worse at cutting unarmored foes?” Heartwell asked.

“Exactly!” Vukasin agreed, “You’ll rarely have to fight a well-armored opponent. Most of the enemies are regular soldiers, who have leather armor at best.”

“It looks like the people on the other side aren’t concerned with fightin’ unarmored opponents,” Wyvernshield concluded, “anyway, gimme the thing! I wanna touch it myself!”

“Speaking of touching …” Mizette said in a suggestive voice, “I think I have found something just for that.