From somewhere nearby came the sharp rhythm of clashing metal, a steady cadence that echoed through the woods. Training, perhaps.
"It gives off the feeling of a… dojo," Vilskapa muttered, resting a hand on his waist as he studied the building.
"What is a dojo?" I asked him curiously.
"It is basically a location for martial training and schools," he explained. "I am not certain if such places exist in Pison at present, but in Tigris—one of the Heavenly Pieces—you can find plenty of them."
"Then why do the dwarves not have one?" I pressed further.
"Uhhh," Vilskapa looked away, sweating.
"We dwarves deal mostly in crafting, blacksmithing, and perversions," Valhugr answered with a careless shrug. "Combat is simply something we acquired to protect our property—Ow, ow!!"
I had seized both men by the ears and pulled sharply.
