Arwin’s estimations had been correct. He’d had just enough metal left over to make a chestpiece and a helm, and he finished the both of them well into the night. It felt like an entire day had been consumed in the blink of an eye. Arwin couldn’t complain. He was pretty sure that his rate of production was ridiculous. Verdant Blaze and his [Soul Flame] drastically cut down on the time it took him to make anything, not to mention all the aid the Mesh gave him. Seeing him complain probably would have brought tears of blood to a normal smith’s eyes. Arwin was intentionally hampering his work to avoid letting magic enter it and he was still finishing multiple pieces in a single day. Then again, it was unlikely that a normal smith would have been able to use Verdant Blaze as a smithing hammer. Swinging around a huge chunk of metal for hours on end was beyond the limits of what a normal man could do. Arwin dismissed Verdant Blaze and picked up the new pieces of armor he’d made. He left the makeshift smithy and headed over to the tavern. The street was, as it always seemed to be, largely empty. But, when Arwin drew up to the tavern, he was struck by a very stark difference. Where there had once been only a pool of darkness in a doorway, there was now a door. It was made of plain but well-crafted wood. A good door. Glad she finally got around to getting one. There’s something about a building that just doesn’t feel finished without a door. Maybe I’ve just got a door obsession. Arwin pushed the door open and stepped inside. As usual, he’d showed up so late that almost everyone else had already retired to bed. Clinks from the kitchen told him that Lillia was still up. It sounded like she was working on cooking something. She must have heard the door open because she poked her head out of the kitchen a few seconds later. “That’s good,” Arwin said with a nod. There was so much that had to be done that a few weeks hardly felt like enough, but it would have to be. They had to handle the Wyrms themselves. It was imperative that the Adventurer’s Guild didn’t come anywhere near Milten. The farther away from them we are right now, the better. We can’t afford to let them anywhere near us until we’re strong enough to challenge them. A bunch of overgrown lizards are nothing in comparison to the guild. For now, all that matters is just focusing on doing what I can. There may have been a lot they had to handle, but that would come with the following day. For the time being, it was night and the only thing that either of them had any plans of doing was resting until the morning came. Arwin hit the markets early when the next day rose. He lugged his cart out along with the two pieces of armor he’d made the previous day. It almost felt like overkill, bringing an entire cart just to carry a set of armor he could move with his hands – but the cart legitimized him and made it look less like he was just some random person on the side of the street trying to sell armor to anyone that would look twice at them. He was a bit apprehensive of his chances at selling anything without Reya, but it turned out that he needn’t have worried. He was still in the process of hanging the chestpiece up on the pegs at the top of the cart when he caught a glimpse of a dark-haired man clad in leather armor standing at the base of the cart. “You’re Ifrit, aren’t you?” the man asked. “I am,” Arwin said, turning to face him and holding up the helm in his hands. “I only have two pieces today. This and the armor. Were you interested in buying?” “We don’t get a lot of new smiths around Milten, and I’ve heard some decent stuff about your work. How much?” the man asked. “120 for the armor and let’s say… 60 for the helm?” Arwin offered. “180 total?” The man tapped a foot on the ground in thought, then shrugged. “Fair price. Done.” Seriously? That was easy. “You aren’t part of a guild, are you?” Arwin asked as he took the chestpiece down. “No. I’m a solo worker. Never been a fan of guilds,” the man replied. “Why? You recruiting for one? I’m not buying if you’re going to try to make me join up.” “Nothing like that,” Arwin promised. “Don’t worry about it. 180 for the lot.” The man shrugged and pulled out his coin pouch, counting out the requested amount in stacks before sliding it over. Arwin handed him the armor. “Pleasure doing business with you. If you need any modifications or want repairs done for cheap, feel free to come find my smithy. It’s on the haunted street. You can find me by going to the tavern at the street’s end.” “On the haunted street?” the adventurer repeated, a chuckle slipping out of his mouth. “Interesting. I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.” Arwin nodded in response. He scooped the coin into his pouch and the man headed off without another word. Arwin hadn’t even learned his name. That was quite fine with him. He’d learn it if the man came back. All in all, he’d been at the market for less than ten minutes. Arwin hopped down from the cart and picked it up. He headed back to the tavern with it in tow, stopping to buy two more Brightsteel ingots for a total of 60 gold and leaving himself another 120 to work with. With the extra 120 that Olive was bringing him – assuming she survived the dungeon she was working at – he’d be able to pay Ridley off to finish the smithy and have some left over to buy more metal when the time came. I really want to go to that dungeon she’s in sooner rather than later. Brightsteel is useful, but I don’t know if I want to make the entirety of Rodrick’s greaves out of it. I want something harder for some of the parts. I could work in the Maristeel, but I’d rather save that for trying to make a whole set rather than just a temporary job to keep him alive until I can get something really nice made. Arwin made it back to the tavern and set the wagon down at its side. Ridley was working on the smithy once again – he’d made pretty good progress, and it looked like he was nearing the quarter completion mark. He headed over to the mason. Ridley paused his work and looked up at Arwin as he counted out fifty gold and held it out.