19

“Lovely,” he muttered, “just lovely!”

As Tobius continued his manipulations, he whispered a recitative of artefact spells in parallel.

"What are you doing, you bastard?!"

A man in a greasy shirt and with tousled hair fell down from a hatch in the ceiling. His face was smeared with what looked like oil, which dwarves anoint their mechanics, and horror froze in his eyes.

"Push," Tobius cut him off without being distracted, "an artifact on its last legs." I believe that they took care of it as best they could, but without a professional artefacturer, these are just pathetic attempts. Why didn't you call the master?

“So,” the grubby man squeaked, “it’s expensive! We have to walk for three years to save up for one repair! Here I am...

But then he will work for fifty years.

“So we won’t swim so much!” Here every exit to the sea can end in a wet grave ...

- Everything is clear with you. Again, the greed of people and wizards comes out sideways to both. Such a rarity! Jewelry work! The master
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