Passing through a corridor at the far end of the hall, they emerged into the tavern's inner courtyard. It was surrounded by single-story buildings: most were guest rooms, the rest for kitchen and storage. Reyn, trying not to show excessive curiosity, followed Zoltan to one of the wings. By the look, these were the dwarf's private quarters. Inside was clean, but Reyn saw no other dwarves.
Zoltan unlocked one room piled with junk—it seemed like a storeroom. Reyn watched as Zoltan moved a cabinet against the wall, revealing a staircase leading down.
"Go on down."
The dwarf, without explanation, stepped onto the stairs first.
Reyn hesitated a moment but followed.
The staircase was short, and soon they reached the bottom. A spacious basement opened before them. Several gas lamps lit the room, and to Reyn's surprise, it was much larger than expected: nearly a hundred square meters in area and about three meters high. There was no sense of crampedness or stuffiness—it was hardly just a basement anymore.
However, Reyn's attention was drawn to the mechanisms arranged around.
In the basement's center loomed a machine resembling a lathe—massive, bulky, and clearly antique, but impeccably maintained. All its shafts, gears, and flywheels gleamed with cleanliness, without a hint of rust. The lathe connected to a tall boiler—obviously powered by steam.
"Steam lathe!"
Reyn recognized it immediately, though something seemed off. This machine was complex, not just a lathe. It seemed to combine cutting, forging, milling, grinding, and pressing functions—an all-in-one unit assembled from various parts. Besides the steam lathe, there were many other tools: a forge furnace, grinding stones, and in the corner, piles of metal blanks and parts.
Noticing Reyn's expression, Zoltan said smugly,
"This is my personal workshop."
"Innkeeper, you're a Mechanical Master?" Reyn asked curiously. He'd assumed Zoltan was an alchemist, since he traded alchemical materials.
"Something like that," Zoltan shrugged. "In my clan, I was a blacksmith, but my hands weren't made for it. Later, in the Empire, I trained as a mechanic, but forging blades and armor bores me. Now I'm a gunsmith."
With that, he slapped the pistol at his belt.
Reyn hadn't heard of the "gunsmith" profession but guessed it meant masters who made spiritual guns. No wonder he'd noticed many barrels, springs, and other parts amid the metal scrap.
"From rags to riches, as they say."
Reyn was overjoyed. He'd planned to first confirm he could make gunpowder, then figure out the weapon. Longsand had many workshops of the Guild of Steam and Mechanics, selling weapons and taking orders for metal parts—for the right price. Originally, he'd thought to order gun parts piecemeal from different shops and assemble them himself. But that would be very expensive, so he'd need money first.
Now, seeing Zoltan's workshop, Reyn changed plans immediately. If he could use this workshop, plus the 3D blueprints from his phone, he could save a fortune and make a gun quickly.
Zoltan approached one wall and placed his hand on it. Silver lines appeared, forming a door contour that opened inward. A dull scrape sounded—the door was incredibly heavy, like carved from solid stone. An ordinary person couldn't budge it.
"Magic door!"
Reyn froze for a moment. It was his first time seeing a magic door, but what struck him more was Zoltan's seemingly boundless trust; he didn't fear an information leak at all. Such carelessness made Reyn wary: was the dwarf up to no good?
Zoltan, as if reading his mind, said casually,
"I didn't make this magic door. And the basement was here before I bought the tavern. Nothing especially valuable; just storing alchemical materials. Many I trade with have been here."
"Well, what are you standing there for, going to buy materials or not?" The dwarf was losing patience at Reyn's hesitation.
Reyn brushed off his doubts and stepped inside.
The secret room behind the magic door was small, about twenty square meters. The walls were smooth stone slabs, giving the impression the whole space was carved from solid rock—airtight, without a single crack. The only light source was the gas lamp in Zoltan's hand, its uneven flame making the illumination unstable.
Reyn discreetly activated his phone's camera, boosting the image brightness.
Wooden shelves lined the walls, divided into hundreds of small cells holding various materials.
Zoltan raised the lamp higher, illuminating the shelves.
"All my alchemical materials are here. Used a lot lately, sold some too; haven't restocked yet. Look around, tell me what you need."
"Got it," Reyn nodded.
There were over a hundred types of materials, all very different: mostly ores and powders, processed plant branches and leaves, and some odd components, possibly animal-derived.
Reyn was at a loss: most were unfamiliar. He remembered the black powder recipe but didn't know the Auriens names for its three main components and couldn't spot them right away.
However, some were easily recognizable, like alcohol and graphite—they could come in handy. Reyn took them from the shelf and set them on the table. Continuing his search, his gaze fell on a glass jar of black granules—dark, heavy, and very familiar.
"Is this black powder?"
Reyn approached, opened the lid, and caught the characteristic smell. He was thrilled: he'd thought he'd have to make it himself, but here it was ready!
"Innkeeper, what's in this jar?" he asked as casually as possible, pretending not to recognize the black powder.
Zoltan approached, glanced, and replied,
"Fire sand. Long ago, we dwarves used it for gun bullets. But it's too weak, stores poorly, and gives lots of smoke on firing. So it was replaced by phlogiston long ago. Hardly used now."
Reyn was fully convinced: it was black powder. Dwarves had discovered it long ago but hadn't widely adopted it, preferring phlogiston. Reyn had heard of phlogiston—the main material for spiritual weapon bullets. Like powder, it could ignite and explode, but required spiritual power. Now it was clear: because of phlogiston, the world of Ellunes hadn't pursued more powerful powders.
In fact, black powder had decent power; dwarves just hadn't perfected the recipe and abandoned it quickly. This fire sand was probably too weak too.
Reyn thought a bit and decided not to hide his intentions from Zoltan.
"Innkeeper, I'd like to buy some fire sand for experiments. Also its recipe and enough raw materials. Got any?"
"I'll look."
Zoltan didn't ask why Reyn wanted fire sand. He walked the shelves and soon took down three or four different materials.
"Fire sand is made from volcanic yellow earth, charcoal powder, and bitter ice," he explained. "I'll write the recipe later."
Reyn recognized the components immediately: volcanic yellow earth was sulfur, bitter ice was saltpeter. He memorized their names too.
He bought nothing else. Zoltan tallied the cost. Since these were common, low-value materials in small quantities, Reyn paid just one hundred copper foxes.
Before leaving the secret room, Reyn's gaze accidentally swept the floor, and he noticed strange carved signs under some shelves, forming complex patterns. They were dust-filled and inconspicuous. If he hadn't boosted the brightness, he'd have missed them. But he didn't pay it much mind and followed Zoltan out.
Closing the magic door, Zoltan looked at Reyn holding the alchemical materials and said,
"If you're doing alchemical experiments, you can use my alchemy table for a couple days. Wouldn't want you burning down my tavern with that fire sand of yours."
With that, he pointed to a table in the basement corner, cluttered with glassware.
Reyn was, of course, delighted. He wanted not just the alchemy table but the whole workshop, including the steam lathe.
"Thanks, innkeeper." Reyn smiled a bit sheepishly. "I'd also like to borrow that lathe, if possible?"
Hearing this, Zoltan bulged his eyes; even his beard bristled.
Reyn hastily added,
"I'll pay."
Zoltan's expression softened. After thinking, he said reluctantly,
"You can pay for it." He held up five thick fingers and said firmly, "Fifty copper foxes a day. Coal and materials extra. If you break anything, you pay full price."
Reyn calculated his remaining money: it should last over ten days. With his skills, that was plenty to make a gun. If it failed, he'd find another way.
For revenge, he gritted his teeth and agreed.
Zoltan circled the workshop, counted the materials, and left.
Reyn didn't want to waste time. He went straight to the alchemy table, checked the glassware set, and began making black powder. Once in the library, he'd read a treatise on weapons and ammo detailing gunpowder's history and methods for various propellants. Black powder was the simplest. The recipe stuck with him well, so he knew the optimal ratios.
Actually, black powder wasn't his first choice. Reyn remembered smokeless powder using solvent—more powerful, not too hard to make—but lacked components here, so he settled for less.
After a few tries, in just half a day, Reyn successfully made fire sand!