Impossible.

Chef couldn’t deny the evidence before him, but to accept this as truth would shatter his worldview. Everything he understood about the universe and his place in it was crumbling from the presentation before him. This new information simply could not exist within reality as he knew it. And yet, the truth could not be denied.

The handsome man is the metal man.

He stood in the handsome man’s house, stared at the armor, and had to lean onto the nearby wall for stability. Meanwhile, the deceiver looked over at him with emotion in his eyes.

What emotion? Who knew. Could be anything, that fucking liar.

The man kept looking at him while describing the armor.

“Proper bronze armor can be separated into three sections: the helmet, breastplate, and greaves. The helmet needs to be as closed as possible to provide protection, but you already have animal skulls for that. The breastplate can be made many ways, but as you see mine is a single forged piece. The fasteners come in then with other designs or with the greaves.”

The man was holding the torso piece, showing him that it was in fact a single piece of metal. Chef was still recovering from his shock while leaning heavily on the wall.

“…and so rivets can be attached or holes intentionally left at specific locations like so. Then a series of thin leather chords like this can be used to tie the greaves to your shins.

“I’ve seen variants with more pieces, why mine even has more, but they’re rarely practical. In my experience, a good shield is the best defense. If something is biting or clawing into your arm, then you’re already doomed. In that case the loss of mobility from the extra thirty pounds of gear would have killed you even sooner.

“I’d only wear the extra armor on select missions and mainly do so for intimidation. Many creatures or bandits take one look at a fully armored soldier and turn heel.”

Chef finally calmed down a little as he tried to go over the information he’d just been given, but it was simply too much. How was a goblin supposed to listen to so many consecutive sentences? Even three in a row were a struggle.

“Show me.”

Instead, he’d just get a practical demonstration. The handsome man donned his armor, proving that he was in fact the metal man. It was a sad day for Chef, but he’d try to get the most out of it.

First the man put on some thicker looking clothing.

“The breastplate is hard and gets hot in the sun. I recommend adding some extra padding for both reasons.”

Chef couldn’t help but look down at the extra padding he’d put on in the past few weeks. Surely Fresk wasn’t trying to insult him. No, that coward wouldn’t dare.

Also, he was pretty sure the fur he was wearing hid his paunch.

Next came the breastplate itself which Fresk just sort of pushed himself into arms first. It was a little silly looking, but it didn’t take too long before he was well armored. With the added padding as the man called it, the armor fit quite snug.

He began to put on the greaves, tying them around his calf as he described the process. Chef ignored his words and just focused on the actions, already feeling conversation fatigue thanks to the constant yapping from the man.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Last came the helmet which just slid over his face and head. One eye was fully covered by the metal while the other was half lidded. That explained the misunderstanding somewhat, but Chef was still quite unhappy about it.

Someone really should have told him. He would have remembered if they had. Definitely.

The man in question continued to explain things that Chef couldn’t care less about, so it was time to direct the conversation.

“How do you make this then?”

He asked, pointing at the breastplate. Fresk seemed to consider the question for a while, somehow looking more comfortable in the armor than he was out of it.

“You could smelt it into one big piece if you had a proper mold, but that would be hard to hammer into proper shape. You could smelt two pieces and then maybe apply local heat to hammer them into one piece after you’ve hammered the halves into shape.”

Fresk put his hand to his chin as he thought for a little longer, shook his head, and then continued.

“I would probably just make two pieces and then tie them together with leather chord but only because I’m not skilled enough to do either of the other methods. With your stature and the animal skulls you wear, I doubt you need greaves or a helmet. If you have faith in your mold making skills then try the one big piece and hammer it into shape. If that doesn’t work you can try something else.”

Chef looked at the man for a while, understanding most of what was said. But Fresk kept saying something that he didn’t understand.

“What is a hammer? What does hammer into shape mean?”

Fresk looked at him for a while, not saying a word. After a few seconds, Chef was beginning to worry that he’d said something stupid. After a few more, he was afraid that he’d somehow broken the man. But eventually, Fresk managed to pull himself together enough to answer the incredibly complicated question.

“A hammer is a piece of wood with metal affixed at the top. Smiths use them to shape the metal since using your hands isn’t a very good idea. So, hammering something into shape means beating on the heated metal with a hammer until it is shaped how you want it to be shaped.”

Chef thought about that for a moment and realized that this should be rather simple for him. He had already become a master of clay shaping and firing; he was more than capable of making a mold as complex as the breastplate in front of him. Easily. Probably.

But something had started to bother him. He was really starting to get sick of needing the thing to make the thing.

So what, I need a bronze hammer to make bronze? And I needed bricks to make a kiln to make bricks in? What kind of sense does that make? How does anybody do anything?

The answer was iteratively, which was exactly what he would do.

“Thank you, Fresk. Let me borrow the breastplate then. I will pay with honey and garlic and return to you later.”

The man seemed apprehensive for a moment before nodding. It wasn’t like Chef was going to do anything to it, so why worry? He just needed something as a starting point for his mold.

Fresk, as it turned out, didn’t have empty jugs just lying around like the others did. Never mind the fact that the other two he dealt with were a wealthy cook and the person who made and sold the containers in the first place. So, Chef had to adapt.

He first just summoned as much garlic as he could without going below half mana. It wasn’t a ton, but it was more than either of them had seen in one sitting before, easily over a dozen cloves. He was pretty sure that’s what the father had called them anyway. Then he walked over to the kiln maker, grabbed an empty jug lying around after letting himself in through the cracked door, and filled it with honey. He then walked right up to her, filling the jar she was holding in her lap with honey while maintaining constant eye contact. She looked at him, too scared to look away.

“I give you that jug of honey. You will give me this jug I filled. Yes?”

She nodded quickly, accepting the deal that they both knew was an unreasonable exchange. Chef didn’t care, though. He’d been here for hours, been listening to people talk for hours, been smelling and looking at humans for hours. He simply couldn’t take it anymore.

If overpaying would get him out of this town and away from human interaction faster, then he’d throw honey around like it was nothing. He could always just make more.

Returning to Fresk, he handed the man the jug now filled with honey, grabbed the breastplate, and made his way back to his cauldron. Dropping the heavy bronze into the cooking device, Chef began making his way out of town.

Everyone just looked at him, concern clear on their faces as he carried the shockingly not that heavy metal out of town. He addressed the gathering throng, trying to calm them down.

“I will return in a few days. Show me a working mill and some flour when I do.”

That seemed to do it, shocking the people back to work.

Nothing like a little direction to calm them down.

Chef hummed happily to himself as he walked past the sweating humans desperately trying to appease his ever-increasing demands. Turned out that today wasn’t so bad after all.