The name meant nothing to Zeke. He could confidently say he had never heard or read about anyone named Azra. That left him with two possibilities—either the man was unremarkable, which Zeke highly doubted, or someone had deliberately hidden his existence.
However, one thing seemed certain: Azra was likely not an Archmage yet. If he had reached that level, keeping his identity hidden would have been far more difficult. After all, Archmages were a nation's pride, and concealing them would only diminish its prestige.
Zeke tucked the name away for later. For now, he had more pressing matters than dwelling on the usurper who had stolen his mentor's legacy. But if their paths ever crossed, he would make sure the world knew who the true successor to Hohenheim was.
For the moment, his focus remained on Markus and his story.
"How did you manage to leave?" Zeke asked bluntly.
"It was all thanks to Mr. Goldhammer," Markus said. "I stayed in contact with him after the competition, and when he decided to return to the dwarven capital, he asked me to join him."
Zeke's mind churned at the somewhat familiar name. He recalled meeting a man named Jonathan Goldhammer during the forging exhibition in the empire. Back then, the man had been robbed of a well-deserved victory through sheer nepotism. It was no surprise that he had chosen to leave.
The real question was—why had he taken Markus with him?
"Just like that?" Zeke asked, unable to hide his suspicion.
"Well…" Markus hesitated, looking a bit sheepish. "I had to sign a contract."
Zeke's eyes narrowed. If Markus had been tricked into some kind of exploitative labor agreement, he wouldn't rest until his childhood friend was free. "What kind of contract?"
"It's not that bad, really," Markus quickly reassured him, clearly reading the murderous intent on Zeke's face. "It's just an apprentice contract. It lasts for ten years, and I don't earn much, but I get the chance to learn from a genuine master. I can always make up for the lost money later."
Zeke frowned slightly. The terms weren't entirely unreasonable, and Markus himself didn't seem particularly opposed to the arrangement. There was really no reason for him to insert himself, even if he wanted to do just that.
Instead, Zeke found himself pondering another matter. He was genuinely surprised the Empire had allowed Markus to leave without making a fuss. Given their history, Markus could have easily been used as a hostage against him.
"Were there no problems when you left?" Zeke asked, his tone cautious.
Markus shook his head, a self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. "Why would there be? I'm nobody special, and my weak affinity doesn't make me much of a threat. Honestly, the only value I ever had to them was my connection to you. And even that seemed meaningless after you never reached out."
"…Markus," Zeke began, but his friend cut him off immediately.
"I'm not an idiot, Zeke. I know exactly why you did what you did. It was the right choice not to contact me." Markus exhaled sharply, his expression unreadable. "But that's not how the enforcers saw it. I'm pretty sure they don't even have feelings themselves. They would never understand."
Zeke nodded slowly, relieved that Markus had understood his intentions. However, an awkward silence settled between them now that the heavy topics had been laid to rest. It was an unfamiliar feeling. Normally, he and Markus could talk about anything and everything with ease.
But this time, the usual banter didn't come.
A moment later, Zeke understood why. Their lives had diverged too much. The common ground they once shared had been eroded by the vastly different paths they had taken. Though only a few years had passed, the experiences Zeke had endured in that time could have filled a dozen lifetimes for an ordinary man.
It had been by design.
To strengthen his Soul, he had pushed himself relentlessly every single day. He had to go further, achieve more, experience more, and face greater dangers. He had driven himself to the very limits of human capability—and beyond. It had made him strong.
But now, he found it difficult to relate to his childhood friend. Markus still seemed like a boy in his eyes—mature, perhaps, but untouched by the crucible that had forged Zeke into what he had become.
Zeke shook off those dark thoughts. He refused to believe there was nothing left to talk about with his best friend. His mind raced, searching for the right topic—until it clicked. There was one thing they still shared, something that would always connect them.
With a grin, he asked, "Did you enjoy my little show earlier?"
Markus looked momentarily surprised by the sudden shift but quickly broke into a matching grin. "I've never seen Master Onsel so shocked in my life! When you fixed the force converter in a heartbeat, even I could barely believe it."
His expression turned hopeful. "Any chance you could teach me that trick?"
Zeke shook his head. "I'm afraid it requires a Mind affinity to work…"
That wasn't the whole truth, but he couldn't reveal Akasha's existence to Markus. His friend's mind was an open book to any skilled interrogator, and unlike Zeke's own people, Markus wasn't protected by magical contracts binding him to secrecy.
"…But to be honest, you were almost there. The only thing missing was fixing the stress fractures and putting it all back together."
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Markus snorted. "Easy for you to say. Finding them all and fixing them up is a day's work for the rest of us, you know?"
Zeke shrugged, unapologetic. "I can't help it, that's just how awesome I am."
Markus rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the hint of admiration. "When did you learn all this, Zeke? I don't remember you being such a good craftsman."
Zeke's expression shifted, growing more serious. "I'm really not," he admitted. "But having access to a lot of Magic lets me cut a lot of corners. Honestly, I probably couldn't even forge a door handle if I had to use my hands."
Markus snorted at the thought but seemed a little more at ease with the admission. After all, nobody, no matter how close, liked to hear that their years of practice had been rendered insignificant.
"I actually made most of my money designing an airship," Zeke explained, beginning to recount the steps that had led him to build the Gondola. As expected, Markus wasn't particularly interested in Zeke's ingenious sales strategies, but he quickly shifted his focus to the technical specifications and innovations Zeke had come up with.
Before he knew it, hours had passed, and the two of them had settled into a comfortable rhythm, their conversation flowing as naturally as it once had. Though most of their discussions now revolved around craftsmanship of some kind, Zeke didn't mind. It was one of his favorite topics, and now that Markus was training under a dwarven master, he didn't fall behind when the subject turned to intricate details.
[Notice]
It is time.
Only then did Zeke remember that he had an important meeting coming up. As much as he regretted not being able to spend more time with Markus, he couldn't let himself lose sight of the reason he had come to the city in the first place.
"I have to go," he said, offering an apologetic smile to his childhood friend.
Markus nodded, his expression falling slightly. "That's a shame," he said, trying to lift the mood a little. "It's not so easy to make friends here when everyone's the size of a child, you know?"
Zeke chuckled, though he knew the real reason Markus was struggling to make friends was likely because the dwarves preferred to stick with their own kind. He understood that it wouldn't be easy for Markus to integrate into dwarven society as just an apprentice.
"That might change after today," he said with a grin. "I give you permission to use my name as much as you want. See if that helps."
Markus snorted. "Who do you think you are, Mr. Hotshot?"
"I just won the competition, genius," Zeke countered.
"Ohh," Markus replied, as if he had momentarily forgotten that fact. He clearly hadn't fully adjusted to the idea that his childhood friend was now a person of some renown and influence. To Markus, Zeke was still the same boy he had known his whole life. In a way, the fact that Markus hadn't even thought to leverage Zeke's newfound status for his own benefit was exactly why he was such a precious friend.
Zeke stood up, and Markus followed suit a moment later. This would likely be the last time they saw each other for some time. Zeke placed his hands on his friend's shoulder and locked eyes with him, his expression suddenly serious.
"If you need anything," he said, his voice cold and steady, "and I mean anything... go find Gunner at his smithy. He will get you whatever you need."
Markus raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "What if I get into a fight with an Archmage?"
The smile quickly faded from his face when he saw that Zeke's expression hadn't shifted. Zeke's gaze remained firm, unwavering.
Markus swallowed, his earlier jest fading into realization. "Oh," he muttered, sensing the full weight of what Zeke was offering.
"And don't try to be coy about it," Zeke continued, a satisfied glint in his eye. "I have more money than I know what to do with."
Markus opened his mouth, no doubt ready to refuse, but Zeke anticipated the protest. With a knowing smirk, he added one final line that would leave no room for argument.
"…You can always pay me back later."
Markus sighed, as if resigned to the situation. "Fine. I'll make sure to remember it."
Zeke smiled, giving his friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped and turned back to Markus, addressing him one last time.
"When your contract's up, you should come visit Tradespire."
Markus gave him a puzzled look, clearly wondering why he would ever want to go there.
"My lead engineer is getting on in years, and we're looking for a successor," Zeke explained, his tone casual but with an underlying seriousness.
"I don't want any handouts, Zeke. Not even from you," Markus replied firmly, shaking his head.
Zeke snorted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What handouts? If you're not up to the task, you can muck the stables, boy. My lead engineer has to be the best of the best. If you're not confident, then there's no need to even show up."
With a dismissive wave, Zeke turned and walked away, unaware of the fire his words had sparked in Markus's heart.
He exited the storage room that had served as their private meeting space and strode through the bustling workshop. The moment he stepped into view, all work ceased. The dwarves watched his every move, their gazes fixed on him as if they could somehow uncover the secrets of the universe from his casual steps.
Zeke found the spectacle rather amusing but refrained from making a scene again. Instead, he walked steadily toward the front of the shop, where the owner and his daughter were still waiting for his return.
Zeke approached the dwarf he suspected was the owner. "Are you Rodrick, sir?" he asked directly.
"That's right," Rodrick replied, his voice carrying a note of pride.
Zeke's expression grew serious. "There's an apprentice in your employ named Markus," he began, watching Rodrick carefully for any signs of recognition. The dwarf didn't disappoint.
"Aye, I know th' lad," he said with a nod. "He's a fair bit tougher than most o' yer kind."
Zeke nodded in return. "Would it be possible to accelerate his training?"
Rodrick furrowed his brow. "Accelerate?" he repeated, clearly confused by the request.
"Special lessons, better teaching, superior tools and materials—anything that would help him progress faster?" Zeke elaborated.
Rodrick rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "Aye, them things are possible, but they ain't cheap. We save 'em fer th' best o' th' best. Yer friend ain't at that level, an' he likely never will be, not wit' his weak affinity."
Without saying a word, Zeke reached into his pocket and slid a gold bar across the counter. "How much?" he asked simply.
Rodrick's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the gold, but he quickly regained his composure. "The price'll depend on what level o' teachin' yer after. This"—he pointed to the gold bar, which had the number '1000' on it—"will get 'im a fair bit."
"What if I want the best?" Zeke asked, his tone unwavering.
Rodrick chuckled, clearly amused. "Th' best, he says. That could cost ya ten times as much..."
Without so much as a twitch of his expression, Zeke produced nine more identical gold bars, stacking them neatly on top of the first one.
"I expect results."
With those words, Zeke turned and left the shop. A sense of relief washed over him as he stepped into the cool air, the weight on his heart easing. At least he had found a way, even a small one, to repay his friend for all the strain he had placed on their friendship.
His steps were lighter now, the heaviness of the past days lifting with each stride toward the Ironhide mansion. Unbeknownst to him, the meeting with Markus had done more than just rekindle their bond—it had provided a rare moment of peace, soothing the turmoil that had plagued his thoughts and heart for so long. For the first time in days, Zeke felt truly at ease.