As far as we were concerned, the only hard things currently were limestone and iron wood. So what could be harder than that?
"No," the beaver said, carefully unwrapping the rag.
The hall went silent. Sitting in the center of the cloth was a jagged chunk of rock, but it wasn't normal stone. Even in the dim light of the hall, it gave off a dull, heavy glint. It was dark, almost black, with veins of a deep, bronzed gold running through it.
I stood up, my exhaustion vanishing as if it had never existed. I grabbed the rock, almost dropping it because—holy crap—it was heavy. It wasn't just a shiny gold rock; it was high-grade metal ore.
The ones you see in those movies, and you're like, Ah, I wish I were that lucky. I'd immediately get rich.
And that is happening to me right now.
