Seeing the elf asking whether this was his shop or not, Simon gulped in anxiety. Beneath the counter, his feet began twitching to the ancestral hammer taps of Khâzul.
A-a-an elf is here! What do I do, what do I do!?
Their reputation is notorious for their sticklers of perfectionism; they embodied the very principle of beauty. Gleaned from the ruins spread across the world, the ancient Faelvin empire, in their zenith, built monuments of such beauty that future rulers emulated their designs on their palaces and other structures.
Despite being banished to the forests of Folisia, whenever members of their tribe ventured forth from home, they would be welcomed everywhere for their artistic flairs.
That was why Simon didn't want to meet them:
Dwarves focused more on practicality than aesthetics, hence the age-old rivalry with the elves.
Gulping, Simon shakily asked him "G-good morning dear s-sir. H-how may I help you?" Snapping out of his stupor, the elf finally looked at Simon. "Oh, so you're the owner?"
Just as he was wondering what was an elf doing here, the elf spoke again. "Hmm, nice shop you got here. So, I heard some...things.... across the city. I came wondering if they were true or not. Or.is everything they said a lie?" Raising an eye, the elf challenged Simon.
Undeterred, his dwarven blood ignited. Taking this as a sign of challenge against his entire species, Simon began showing off his collections. "Here is a whirly-curler, used to curl the long hairs of women into ringtails. Now, they do be very popular amongst the noble ladies..."
Bolstered by the challenge, Simon began elaborating on all of his creations. As he began introducing more and more of them, his initial fear gradually vanished, leaving behind the pride of the dwarves.
Eyes now gleaming with acknowledgement, the elf carefully listened to all of his explanations, before deciding to buy a self-sustaining water sprinkler. "Here, I didn't bring any money, but I believe this should be enough to compensate for your little gadget..."
Although Simon was pissed, it evaporated once he saw what it was.
An ability orb.
And not just any skill – it was the skill 'Appraisal'.
Mouth gawking in shock, Simon held the orb tightly, fearing that it would disappear the next moment. He only returned back to reality once several hours had passed after the elf had left.
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Oww, my fucking head! It hurts!
Just as he heard his head, trying to reduce the pain, his body began spasming out of control in extreme pain. Breathing deeply in pain, he tried his best to reign in the pain, but failed, miserably at that.
"YEEEEOOOWWWCCCHHH! "
Heating the scream, Simon dashed upstairs. Seeing that Lewis had woken up, he rushed over, hugging him, which elicited another bout of pain-filled cries.
"Oops, sorry..." Teeth gritting in pain, Lewis grunted as much as he could to stop the hugging.
"Yeah, no shit Sherlock..."
"Who's Sherlock?"
"Someone from my world. Anyways what happened while I was conked out?"
Simon began explaining what occurred after he was conked out, such as meeting Adolfo, hearing how lucky he was, getting dragged home, and meeting that elf. "Man was he generous. Anyways, you'd better take things slow for now, and digest all the experience you got after killing that Wabbit commander. You nearly died there."
Nodding in agreement, Lewis commented on the danger of the adventure. "Agreed. Let's take things slow for now. So anyways, could you please get off of me? You're killing me!"