Two breastplates glistened before Arwin. They weren’t anything fancy but describing them as merely plain would have been a disservice. The pieces of gear were made from a mixture of Brightsteel and the ivory metal that the Mesh had given him. He’d folded the metal together to split it as evenly as he could between the two pieces, resulting in a swirling mix of silver and bone. The actual design of the armor was rather plain and they lacked magic, but Arwin’s brand, embossed upon them by the puck he still carried in his bag, gave them just enough of a unique element to stand out. Arwin glanced out the window of the smith. The sun was shining outside, but it had shifted back from where he last recalled it. It must have been a bit less than a day. I think I missed the night and am back in the morning. He picked up the two breastplates and stepped out into the street to make his way over to the tavern. Muted conversation from within greeted him as he ducked into the darkness. Reya and Anna sat at the counter, dimly cast in the light of a flickering orange lantern. “You’re back! Faster than I was expecting. It normally takes you longer to make stuff, doesn’t it?” Reya hopped out of her chair as she spotted Arwin and headed over to take a closer look at his armor. Arwin handed her a piece so she could bring it to the light at the counter and get a better look, then followed her over. “These didn’t have any magic. That makes them a lot easier to make. [Soul Flame] makes everything considerably easier and faster.” “Does that mean we’re going to the market again?” Reya asked. “We should get a sign for it at some point.” “Once we’ve got money to spare, we will,” Arwin promised. “But yes, we’re headed back to the market. I was going to ask you to come since I’m pretty sure you’ll have a lot more luck selling my work than I will.” Arwin rolled his eyes. “Here. Feel free to take a look before you buy anything. These aren’t the same material as the previous pieces I had. By the way, what guild are you two in?” “Jumping Tigers,” Leon replied. “Why?” “Curiosity.” He reached up and took one of the sets of armor down, holding it out to Leon. The adventurer took it from him and looked over it for a few seconds. He rapped his knuckles on the metal, then nodded in satisfaction. “I can’t say I’m an expert on armor, but this looks nice. If your last piece was good, I don’t have any reason to believe this one won’t be. Ted’s been raving about how it saved his life ever since he got back from the dungeon.” Leon set a pouch of down on the edge of the wagon, then counted out twenty more. “Here. One twenty.” “Pleasure doing business with you.” Reya nimbly plucked the pouch and the money up. Both vanished into the folds of her clothes. “Likewise,” Leon said. “Where was it that we could find your smithy again?” “Do you know the old, haunted street?” Arwin asked. Leon’s brow furrowed. “Yeah. Why? You don’t mean–” “There’s a tavern at the end of it. Monster themed,” Arwin said. “You can find me there. If I’m not around, just ask for the tavern-keeper, Lillia. She’ll be able to get a hold of me.” “A monster themed tavern?” Leon raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” “It’s pretty neat. Don’t knock it until you try it,” Reya said. “Haven’t you ever wanted to get your meal served to you by an imp?” “Not really – wait. You have actual imps employed?” Leon’s eyes widened. Arwin let out a snort of laughter. “What do you think?” Leon joined in, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. “Fair enough. Costumes, then. That does sound like it could be fun. Well, I’ll keep that in mind if we need any modifications. Thanks again, Ifrit. And…” “Reya,” Leon finished. “Have a good one!” He waved, then turned and headed back into the crowd. “That went well,” Reya said. “I think we’ve gotten some attention again.” She was right. The crowd had already been slowing a little as they passed the wagon, but the people in the area were definitely looking more intently at the wagon than the had been before. Nobody had approached the wagon yet to avoid getting an unwanted sales pitch, but it looked like it would just be a matter of time before someone else came up. “I think we might owe Ted and his brother some thanks,” Arwin said. “Small world, running into both of them.” “Well, it sounds like Leon has been coming around the market pretty frequently to try and find you. That’s a pretty good review of your work.” Reya paused, then tilted her head to the side. “That’s genius.” “Genius? What is?” Arwin asked. “Reviews. We should get a board and put it up with testimonials from people that have bought your work,” Reya said eagerly. “They can sign it to prove its real.” “Huh. Interesting thought. It definitely couldn’t hurt. Maybe something we can look into after we sell this last piece,” Arwin said. “Speaking of which,” Reya murmured, nodding over Arwin’s shoulder toward the crowd. He turned as a young woman came to a stop before their cart. She looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. Strands of red hair poked out from beneath a dented metal helm like tongues of flame. Deep scars ran along her chest piece, layered over each other from dozens if not hundreds of battles. A sword hung from her right side – and, noticeably, the arm above it was cut off just below the elbow. Her approach spurred the crowd, and a man jogged over. He wore considerably nicer armor and was probably around ten years older, with muscles from years of work and a small goatee framing his lips. “How much was this?” the woman asked in a soft voice, looking up at the armor hanging beside Arwin. “120 gold,” Reya said before Arwin could speak. The woman grimaced and pulled out her pouch, counting through it. “Could you do 80?” “Sold,” the man said as he drew up to them, setting his hand on the pouch. “120.” A twinge of annoyance passed through Arwin, but it wasn’t like they had an official line. He needed the money. His own feelings toward the matter were irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was– What’s that insignia on his armor? “Are you with a guild?” Arwin asked. “Yeah. Iron Hounds,” the man said with a smug grin as he held the pouch of gold out. “Ah. I’m afraid I can’t sell to you,” Arwin said. “Your guild leader and I have a bit of a disagreement,” Arwin said. He drummed his fingertips on the wood. This man was part of the Iron Hounds, but that didn’t necessarily mean he knew what they’d done. There was no reason to be overly rude – but he wasn’t selling anything to him. “Feel free to take it up with him.” The man’s brow furrowed and he stuffed the pouch of gold back into his pocket. “Damn shame.”