FFF-Tier System, SSS-Rank Wife

"A drink?"

I wish I could say it was all part of a greater plan, to feed the Saintess all sorts of delicacies I could find in my backpack before dropping the big guns—the coffee itself.

Sadly, I was too focused on the fact that I could die at literally any moment to hatch such a plan all the way back when I was stuck in that jungle of death.

'Still, since it all worked out, who is there to stop me from claiming otherwise?' I thought to myself, only to then put all my attention to stopping my lips from forming a smug smirk.

After tasting the highly processed instant food and now the sweetness of chemically crafted candy, Saintess fell into the trap of modern food.

Which is why, with the mere mention of a drink, I'd managed to already reel her in.

'At this point I can't help but wonder, was it really necessary to glaze it as much as I did?'

Greg, on the other side, didn't appear to be convinced.

And if I were to allow my native preconceptions to guide me here, could it be because I dared to put coffee above alcohol, the one thing that the dwarves in all the literature I consumed in the past put on a massive pedestal?

"A milk and honey, you say?" Greg squinted his eyes only to then raise his hand and snap his fingers.

Snap.

"Yes, sir!"

As if it was a golem born literally this very moment, another dwarf appeared out of nowhere, as if it emerged from the ground hidden beneath the fireproof tiling of the smithy's floor.

"Go and fetch me a bucket of fresh, unspoiled milk and a portion of honey," Greg ordered without sparing his brethren even a single glance.

"Yes, sir!"

Just like a recruit schooled by a drill sergeant at a boot camp, the other dwarf struck the heels of his shoes at each other while pushing his chest up… only to disappear right back into the thick smoke of the smithy's belly.

"Is that all you will need?" Greg asked, only to twitch when the Saintess just… appeared right by my side, her mouth already smiling while her eyes took on a dreamy look.

"That was the difficult part. Beyond it, I will need a grinder and some boiled water. Oh, and a stove or something like it, if possible."

Right now, I didn't have any instant coffee. There was no coffee powder in my secret stash either.

No, all I had was a bunch of fresh seeds, straight from the last batch of coffee plants I'd cultivated in the university greenhouse… and the few seeds I'd already prepared for roasting, leaving behind the most annoying part of the whole brewing process.

"A grinder?" Greg asked, his face taking on a hue of suspicion.

"A mortar and a pestle?" I quickly changed my wording to something more primitive. "I mean, I could crush the beans just by grinding them down with my teeth, but I doubt that would make the drink all that enticing, wouldn't it?"

For just a little longer, Greg gave me that suspicious stare of his before rolling his eyes and stepping away from the counter before waving at me.

"Come on in," he invited while already moving deeper into the smoke-filled smithy. "And we don't have a stove here. So, for your own good, I hope a firestone will suffice."

'Firestone?'

Once again, I near instantly assumed what this world could mean, only to stop myself right in my tracks.

"We will see," I said instead before jumping over the counter and pinching my shirt above my nose not to choke on all the smoke inside. "Show me."

Rather than assuming what that firestone could be, it was better to just take a look myself. After all, what could be worse than claiming a firestone would do, only to learn it was nothing like what I imagined it to be?

"I'm going to stay back here," Saintess called out, her face turning dark the very moment she leaned in over the counter, instantly recoiling back as if the smoke inside was the greatest possible deterrent for the powerhouse that she was. "Just keep in mind, if anything will happen to him…"

Thankfully, rather than just letting me into the domain of the dwarf who didn't seem to like me all that much without a word, Selia was kind enough to guarantee my future with just this simple, unveiled threat of hers.

"Calm down, kiddo," Greg countered with another roll of his eyes, "now that he's my smithy's guest, no one will dare to harm a single strand of that fancy hair of his."

As much as I wanted to join in on this exchange, I knew better than to do so.

Given how Selia went as far as threatening her acquaintance to secure my safety, I wasn't stupid enough to now rub it in the dwarf's face.

Sure, all the stuff I've read about dwarves having short tempers might be nothing but a simple work of fiction… but was there really any need for me to test it out with my own skin on the line?

"Here," before my thoughts could wander any further, Greg stopped and reached out his hand to point at a simple, desk-sized flatstone resting just an inch above the bed of burning pieces of wood.

'Not coals?' I thought, surprised by the lack of the most obvious material I would expect the smithy to have in abundance.

"Will that do?"

I shook my head and squatted down before reaching out and putting my hand just an inch above the surface of the flatstone, only to then quickly bring it back when I'd confirmed just how hot it was.

"Yeah, that should do," I nodded my head only to take a step back and then fish out my box of samples from my backpack. Then, while using the backpack's insides to shield the box from the omnipresent smoke as much as I could, I fished out just three grains of the pre-fermented beans.

Then, after securing the box back in my backpack, I approached the flatstone with near-religious level of care before slowly bringing myself down on my knees and carefully placing the beans down on the searing-hot plate.

'It would be best if I could drive the temperature down a few notches, but…'

I didn't even need to look around to feel the burning stares of the several dwarfkin that soon started to orbit around, all curious what the hell was I doing to the plate where they roasted their meats for some mid-work snacks.

'Focus, man,'

I refused to pay the locals any attention while using a random twig I found lying around to roll the beans on the hot plate, putting my full attention to even the tiniest changes to the beans' color as I'd kept moving them around.

It took a certain degree of skill to properly roast the beans rather than letting them burn. A skill that I developed while working over a modern stove, with easily adjustable heat and a lift of a hand needed to completely separate the frying pan from the actual heat of the fire below.

This flatstone offered none of those conveniences, forcing me to push my skills and attention to their limit, nearly pushing me into the zone, a state of mind normally known only to artists and athletes.

Thankfully, years of playing around with coffee beans weren't for nothing. And after just a few minutes—

"Mortar," I called out, not even looking while I reached out with my hands, fully expecting to then feel the weight of the actual device in my hand.

And, to my unvoiced surprise… it happened.

Without a single word of protest or a single moment of delay, one of the dwarf-kin obediently passed me the mortar, allowing me to quickly sweep the roasted beans off the plate and into the nice and cool, stone bowl.

"Phew…" I managed to breathe out a sigh of relief before raising my hand and using my sleeve to wipe off the sweat off my head. "I was worried there for a second, but they came out pretty damn well," I've muttered to myself as I looked up…

Only to be faced with stares from a full crowd of dwarves all staring me down with weird intensity.