CHAPTER 138: BUILDING A CASTLE

With the arrival of the Dwarf craftsmen, the construction project was officially began.

The Dwarves displayed their professional skills, continuously surveying the terrain from the mountaintop to the foot, and then constantly designing blueprints.

"We plan to build a large castle centered around the tower, covering the entire mountaintop," Balin said, pointing to a complete design blueprint.

"In addition, I also suggest excavating underground passages inside the mountain, serving as a back entrance to the castle, leading directly to the swamp at the foot of the mountain.

Then, we will dig out the swamp to form a lake that surrounds the tower."

"This will not only create a natural barrier, but if the front entrance is blocked, one can also reach the lakeside dock through the underground passage and directly leave by boat."

Listening to Balin’s suggestion, Sylas nodded repeatedly.

Balin’s design coincided with his own ideas, and now it resembled the Hogwarts Castle in his memory even more.

"Then let’s go with your idea, Balin," Sylas said decisively. "I trust your judgment."

Balin smiled upon hearing this and patted his chest, assuring him, "I will definitely help you build the most magnificent castle."

Sylas was also very much looking forward to it, while secretly planning how to extract more money from that stingy Smaug.

After all, although the Dwarves had agreed to help him build the castle, it did not mean it was free.

The building materials and tools required for the castle were enormous expenses.

Not to mention the Dwarves’ food expenses, especially the consumption of alcohol, which was an even greater expenditure.

"Aww! Master, just kill me!"

In the cellar, Smaug let out a wail so mournful that even losing his parents would not make him so sad.

He pressed his massive body hard onto the treasure, refusing to budge like a dead pig.

"There’s already so little treasure left, and now Master, you want to use it to build a castle.

How much will be left then? You clearly promised me that I would lie on a mountain of gold, but now there’s no mountain of gold, and I even have to pay out gold coins! Why is my fate so bitter?"

His resentful gaze and mournful voice would make anyone who did not know think Sylas had done something terrible to him.

Sylas rolled his eyes and kicked him impatiently. "Get out."

Smaug clung to the treasure, unmoving, even secretly raking gold coins to the other side of his body with his tail.

Sylas was instantly amused, his eyes narrowing, and he drew the divine spear Aeglos from his spatial bag, poking him threateningly.

Feeling the stinging sensation from the spear tip, Smaug’s body stiffened, and he could only grudgingly move half his body away.

Sylas expressionlessly put away the spear and then used the spatial bag to collect gold coins.

And watching the gold continuously flow away, Smaug’s heart bled.

"Master, stop digging! I’ll help you! Just leave me some gold!"

Sylas’s hand paused, and he looked at him strangely. "You want to help me work?"

"Yes, Master, I’ll help you build the castle."

"I can transport huge stones from far away, level hills with my tail, and melt steel with Dragon Flame.

I’m definitely much more useful than those greedy Dwarves."

To save gold coins, Smaug had decided to go all out.

So, in the following days, in Sylas’s castle construction team, in addition to the Dwarf craftsmen, there was also the figure of a giant dragon.

Building a castle required hard stone.

The Dwarves found suitable granite for building the castle in the hills north of Amon Sûl Tower.

They quarried blocks of granite, stacked them, and entrusted them to the dragon for aerial transport to Amon Sûl Tower, where the Dwarves then assembled them like building blocks.

Smaug even flew a thousand miles to the Troll Forest, uprooting ancient, sturdy giant trees as building materials.

One could see Smaug’s busy figure every day.

With the assistance of Smaug, the efficiency and speed of castle construction were greatly improved.

According to Balin’s estimation, the original construction time for the castle, which was over a year, had been shortened to just three months.

Even the most expensive stone and wood materials were handled by Smaug, and the largest expenditure instead became the alcohol money for a thousand Dwarf craftsmen. The Prancing Pony Inn’s alcohol was almost entirely monopolized, and Mr. Buttercup, the inn owner, was almost beaming with joy.

Because of this, Smaug looked at the Dwarves with a hint of malice. After all, every penny the Dwarves spent now was deducted from his treasury.

If it were not for his master’s strict prohibition, he would now wish he could swallow all these drunken Dwarves whole.

Just as Smaug’s gaze became less and less concealed, Sylas’s staff struck him hard on the forehead, making Smaug’s eyes clear again.

And the Dwarves finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The pressure of working with this dragon was too great. If it continued, they would all want to go on strike.

Luke, the village chief of Hogsmeade Village, once offered to build the castle for Sylas for free, but Sylas refused.

Aside from Smaug, the stingy dragon, constantly complaining about running out of money, the one-tenth of the Lonely Mountain treasure was actually enough to build countless castles.

So Sylas was not short of money at all and did not need the villagers to work for him for free.

He only hired the villagers to prepare meals daily for the thousand Dwarf craftsmen.

After entrusting all matters to Village Chief Luke and Edward, Sylas went alone to the seventh-floor meditation room to meditate daily.

It was bustling outside, but no sound reached the meditation room.

In the meditation room, Sylas either meditated, studied magic, or learned alchemy.

Until one day, Mr. Buttercup, the owner of the Prancing Pony Inn, brought Sylas good news. He had found a seven-year-old rooster.

Sylas’s spirits lifted, and he immediately used the fireplace to travel to the Prancing Pony Inn.

"Where’s the rooster?"

Mr. Buttercup, the inn owner, saw Sylas and was full of respect and enthusiasm.

After all, this was a big customer.

He quickly bowed. "Lord Sylas, rest assured, the rooster is very healthy. I’ll bring it over to you right away."

Saying that, he turned and quickly ran to the backyard, bringing a cage and placing it on the table.

Inside was a large rooster.

The rooster had a bright red comb, metallic luster on its neck feathers, a strong body, tail feathers like a colorful fan, a sharp beak, and sharp claws, looking majestic.

Sylas lowered his head and observed it carefully.

The inn owner, fearing Sylas would not believe him, quickly assured him, "Lord Sylas, rest assured, this is definitely a rooster that is exactly seven years old.

I bought it from an old Hobbit in the Shire.

It was kept as a pet by that Hobbit for a full seven years.

I would not and would not dare to deceive you."

Sylas was noncommittal, pointing his wand at the rooster and emitting a white light.

The rooster shivered, and a glowing "7" appeared on its comb.

This confirmed that the rooster was indeed seven years old.

Sylas showed a satisfied expression.

Ordinary roosters simply do not live to be seven years old, and even if they do, they are very old, with sparse and dull feathers.

This one, however, was clearly well-cared for; even at seven, it was still robust and its feathers were splendid and glossy.

Having obtained the desired rooster, Sylas then asked, "How are your other material collections coming along?"

The inn owner replied, "I have already collected a batch, but the materials you need are too special, and collecting them is a bit troublesome, requiring more time."

"It is fine, give me what you have collected first, and slowly collect the rest," Sylas said.

"Please follow me, my Lord.

Those things are quite numerous and a bit scary, so they are all stored in the cellar," the inn owner explained somewhat helplessly as he led the way.

The materials Sylas wanted were too strange and bizarre; if it were not for the generous reward and Sylas’s reputation, he would not have dared to accept the commission at all.

The two arrived at the cellar and saw the potion materials Sylas needed.

Among them were crocodile hearts in large glass jars, bat hearts, eel eyeballs, frog brains, salamander spleens, pufferfish eyes, and various other bizarre things.

It was no wonder the inn owner dared not display these items; if guests saw them, they would probably be too scared to return.

Sylas was very happy to see so many collected.

He waved his wand, putting all these items into his spatial bag, then told the inn owner, "Continue to help me collect more materials.

Do not worry about me thinking it is too much; send whatever you can collect, and I will give you a satisfactory reward."

Saying that, he handed a bag of gold coins to the other party.

"This is a thousand gold coins, is that enough?"

"Enough, enough! Thank you, my Lord!" The inn owner immediately beamed with joy. "Thank you, my Lord! I will definitely help you collect more materials!"

With such a generous employer, what if the materials were strange? He would definitely complete the employer’s task.

Under the inn owner’s farewell, Sylas returned to the tower with the rooster and potion materials.

After instructing Edward to take good care of the rooster, Sylas went to the eighth floor.

He waved his wand, conjuring potion storage cabinets on three walls.

Then he sorted and placed the potion materials.

With another wave of his wand, he made the room maintain a relatively low temperature.

He then took out all the potion-making tools, such as cauldrons.

He then went to the door, lightly tapped it, and a golden doorplate engraved with "Potion Room" appeared on the door.

After setting up, Sylas left the Potion Room and found Smaug.

With a wave of his wand, a giant syringe appeared.

He said to the dragon gently, "Come, Smaug, let me draw a little of your blood."

Smaug looked at Sylas’s gentle smile and the syringe, instinctively shuddering.

"M-Master, can I refuse?"

"No!" Sylas refused without hesitation.

"Alright, do not be scared, it is just a tiny bit of blood, it will not affect you at all."

Then, under Sylas’s irresistible command, Smaug could only watch as Sylas came to his chest, plunged the syringe into the scaleless gap on his chest, and then drew a large tube of dragon blood.

The syringe pricked the dragon’s body, no different from a mosquito sucking blood, but it gave Smaug a psychological shadow.

Thus, the first dragon in Middle-earth afraid of injections was born.

Even whenever his master smiled and took out the syringe, it became Smaug’s lingering nightmare.

The dragon’s blood was as hot as lava; Sylas dared not touch the syringe with his hands, only controlling it with the Levitation Charm, sealing it in a heat-resistant glass bottle.

He then returned to the Potion Room with the drawn dragon blood.

This time, he was preparing to make a very obscure and complex potion.