Dispatch, we… may have a situation?

What do you mean by may? What’s the situation?

We have approximately 200 monsters heading towards town-

Reinforcements will be there in 10 minutes! Hold position and-

-all daves.

Unit 12, can you repeat that?

Dispatch, we have approximately 200 daves slowly hopping their way towards town.

…

Permission to engage?

Granted. Do you need any backup?

No, we have unit 11 here with us and… I think we should be fine.

- Excerpt from logs of the Jenkin’s Watch on the first recorded “Dave Wave.” 0 recorded casualties. 217 daves slain.

-------

Despite my best efforts to hide my tears from the old [Historian], I’m pretty sure he still caught me shedding them.

Get it together, Titus. I chided myself as I headed back towards my inn. Are you really going to let yourself break down over something as stupid as jazz?

The short answer was yes. Yes, I was going to break down over something as stupid as jazz. However, it wasn’t the fault of that genre of music. No, even just having a music player gave me all sorts of nostalgia and a severe case of homesickness that I hadn’t even realized I had been holding in.

I made it back to the inn, told the innkeeper I had a late night and didn’t want to be disturbed, and then headed up to my room.

I barely reached the door before I collapsed against it and fell to the floor.

“Why?” I asked the small rectangular device as I pulled it out. “Why did you have to remind me?”

Being face to face with such a simple reminder of home was torture. It reminded me of how simple my life had been in comparison… and how far I had fallen.

More tears followed, but I eventually dragged myself to the bed and prepared for a fitful sleep.

Or at least, it was going to be a fitful sleep. Then I remembered something that I hadn’t had in literal centuries.

Let’s find something better to go to sleep to. I thought as I scrolled through songs.

The old janitor had a much wider range of stuff than I expected. In addition to jazz, there was some rock and roll, pop, and even some EDM that I had to assume a grandkid must have put on there before giving it to him.

None of that was good for getting sleep, though. But he had one last genre that was sure to put me out like a light. Classical music.

And that led to perhaps the best rest I had ever had.

I woke up to tangled headphones and a dead iPod, but that was a small price to pay.

“[Trickle Charge],” I cast with a wince.

Yeah, it wasn’t much for [Zap] or [Trickle Charge] with how low power they were, but it turned out that electricity spells damaged their user. Either that or I wasn’t good enough at casting them to not have that happen, which seemed unlikely since I bought [Zap] from an obelisk.

As I sat there charging up my iPod and taking 1 point of damage every 5 seconds or so, I couldn’t help but think about the spell I had just cast.

How did I figure this out so quickly? I asked myself. Yes, it was simpler than even a bolt spell, but I’ve barely ever cast any electricity spells. Why does it seem so… intuitive?

However, I wasn’t 100% sure that it had actually been the spell school and not the simplicity of the spell I’d created. So, I decided I might as well perform some science.

I know bolt spells for each of the elements… So, why not give [Electric Bolt] a try? I paused. No, that’s an awful name. [Lightning Bolt]? I shook my head. Nah, that should be for a stronger spell. What does that leave? I thought for a moment. [Shock Bolt]? I nodded. Yup, [Shock Bolt]. Now, how to cast it…

I tried to pull out the similarities between the bolt spells and then convert it to the new spell school. It came together easier than I expected.

“Now, I just need a target,” I said. Then, with a shrug, I pulled out a wand. “[Summon Dave],” I cast.

I placed the slimeball on the floor and then took several steps back from it.

“Now, just like I visualized.” I pointed my wand and then prepared for the first try to fail. “Lightning, shock my foes. [Shock Bolt]!”

I yelped and nearly dropped my wand due to 2 simultaneous stimuli. First, my HP dropped by 5. Second, my ears were met with a miniature thunderclap.

There was also an additional surprise waiting for me. Normally, the bolt spells were fast, but they were still within the realm of being trackable by the naked eye.

[Shock Bolt] was not. The dave was hit and wobbled with the blow as soon as the words had left my lips. I caught only the fading light of its afterimage.

It… worked? Was the first thing I managed to ask myself. The second thing I asked myself was, Oh frick, what am I going to do?

And that part was because I had a certain innkeeper shouting as she headed to my room.

Thinking quickly, I stuffed the dave underneath my bed (not [Disrupted] it because that would have also been loud), hid it with the covers, and then practically jumped back into bed.

She pounded at the door, but I didn’t respond.

“Filarion!” she shouted. I once again didn’t reply.

Okay, we’re going with Filarion can sleep through anything. I thought.

Eventually, she used her master key to open the room, and soon she was looming over my bed.

“Filarion!” she said. I didn’t reply. I simply focused on breathing in and out rhythmically. “Filarion!” she said as she shook me.

I bolted upright, made my sword appear in my hand, and then looked around frantically.

“Where’s the enemy!?” I asked. Then, after looking at her shocked face for a moment, I eventually chuckled. “Oh, it’s just you,” I said. I put my sword away. “I thought I left the door locked.”

“You… did,” she stated uncertainly.

I yawned theatrically. “Oh. Did you need something? I had a really late night last night.”

“We… heard a disturbance coming from your room.”

“Well, I didn’t hear anything,” I lied. “Are you sure that it came from my room?”

And that was how I ended up gaslighting not just the innkeeper but all of the inn’s residents into thinking there must have been some kind of freak weather incident. After all, how could there have been lightning inside of the inn?

Anyway, after putting perhaps more effort into my deception than it would have taken to simply find a new inn, I was once again left with my thoughts.

So… lightning magic. I thought as I mulled over the new spell. Pros, it should be nearly impossible to dodge or react to. It’s kind of like shooting a gun. The only chance of dodging the bullet is getting out of the way before it’s fired. I paused. Cons… Self-damage. I can’t cast too much of it without killing myself. It is also loud when used as an attack spell, unlike the other schools of magic.

I was getting close to tabling my studies into that type of magic indefinitely when I remembered I had missed a pro.

It’s easy. I thought as I stopped short. That was the easiest spell-casting I’ve ever done in my life. It felt like I just had to set up a channel for the mana, and then it would just flow across the path of least resistance. Like water or… electricity. I felt a bit dumb about that “realization,” but I pressed on. I could also make a new spell with that in no time flat. I don’t think I could do something like that with earth, ice, air, or even fire.

I frowned. But why? Why is it so easy?

I groaned as I came to a conclusion. “Looks like I found a spell school that I’m talented in,” I said to the dave I pulled out from under the bed. “I mean, that’s great, and all, and that magic is really cool…” I trailed off. “I just kinda wish that I had been more talented in time magic, or maybe even fire magic since those would actually be helpful.”

The dave, as always, didn’t reply, which is why they were the best henchmen. Well, that and their expendability. All it took was one [Disrupt] that I dampened with as many blankets as possible, and the evidence of my spell target practice was gone.

With that taken care of, it was time to figure out what I would do with the rest of my afternoon.

I think it’s finally time to start looking into gear. I thought. So, after asking around, I set off to find a smith.

--------

“Is this the place?” I asked. I double-checked the directions I’d received and then looked back up at the walled compound. I had followed them perfectly, but I started doubting myself once I reached the locked door at the front.

The door was imposing and looked like it weighed a couple dozen pounds, even though it was only sized to be large for a dwarf. In other words, I would have to bend down to fit inside.

“If you don’t have an appointment, go away,” I read the sign posted on the door. “Well, that certainly sets my expectations,” I muttered.

I had zero confidence that Filarion would be able to secure a meeting with the “best smith in Jenkins, nay, the whole world!” and I was starting to wonder if the dwarf that I had asked about it had just been pranking me.

However, I did hear the steady pounding of hammer on metal coming from inside the walled area, so there had to be at least some truth to what I was told. And I wasn’t about to leave without even talking to the reclusive smith.

Good thing those walls aren’t that big. I thought. I wished my body had been about 20 years younger, but thanks to the increased range on my [Flash Step], I still made it to the top and then hopped down inside.

What I saw on the inside was a cluster of different forges and furnaces and a solitary female dwarf hammering a block of metal into shape.

What made me the most curious was that I didn’t recognize the metal she was working on. It was pure white and almost seemed like it was giving off its own light.

I entered [Sneak] and walked up to watch. Honestly, I didn’t need to bother. I probably could have walked right up to the smith, and she wouldn’t have noticed with how intent she was on her work.

I could have interrupted her at any point, but I figured I was already going to be on her bad side for sneaking in. There was no need to interrupt her work as well.

I ended up regretting that a bit. Even after 30 minutes, she showed no signs of taking a break.

I might have waited there forever if she didn’t blindly reach behind her on one of her benches for a handkerchief she used to wipe her sweat while she was still working.

It was too pitiful to watch, so I walked over and put it in her hand.

I hadn’t even realized that I had exited [Sneak] until she jumped in surprise.

“[Guards]!” she shouted. “[Guards]!”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just wanted to-“

She didn’t wait for me to reply. As soon as she called for the [Guards], she had started pulling something out of her inventory.

It turned out that was a warhammer. The stout 3 foot 6 woman swung the weapon upward at my chest with all her might.

I blocked it with a strike from my forearm… or at least, I tried to. I had assumed I wouldn’t need to use [Elemental Strike], but that was a poor assumption.

“Frick,” I grunted as I took quite a bit more damage than I expected from a non-adventurer.

Fortunately, I was still much faster and stronger than the surprised smith, so I yanked the hammer out of her hands.

“Where are the below-cursed [Guards]?” the woman said as she backed away a step and pulled out a second hammer. “[GUARDS]!” she shouted.

I chose to dodge the next wild swing instead of taking it on. Meanwhile, I listened and realized something.

“The [Guards] aren’t coming,” I stated. I had to pause to jump back from the next attack, which crashed into the workbench the shining metal was sitting on top of. The metal crashed into the floor, and the woman gave me a look of pure murder and redoubled the attack.

However, her reach was so pitiful I could continue my explanation without worry.

“First off, you live in the outskirts, so there isn’t much reason to patrol here. Second-“ I dodged another wild swing, grabbed that hammer from her too, and then continued. “How would they even get in here? Your front door’s locked, and they would have one heck of a time getting over the wall.”

She growled as she pulled a sword out of her inventory this time. “Then it’s just you and me, knife-ears,” she said. “Do your worst!”

“Look, I’m not here to fight you,” I said as she stabbed at my leg. I sidestepped that, [Flash Stepped] behind her, and then got her in a hold that required me to bend over awkwardly. “Listen, if I wanted you dead or injured, that would be incredibly easy. But I don’t. I need some armor and didn’t want to settle for anything less than the best.”

“If that were true,” she replied as she struggled against my grip. “You would have just made an appointment like anyone else.” She stopped struggling. “I know why you’re really here. That stick carver Elnil sent you to sabotage me!” She put her sword away, and I hesitantly let her go.

“Well, you can go off and tell that useless noble-born brat mission successful!” she said as she walked back toward her metal block. “You ruined the entire batch of mithril!”

I winced. “Sorry. I even tried not to interrupt you.” Then I paused. “Wait, did you say mithril?”

She snorted. “Yes, of course, I did!” she replied. Then she started muttering to herself. “Maybe if I heat it again… No, that will never work. Blast it! There has to be some way to salvage it! Maybe if I had more magicite…“

Meanwhile, I was thinking back to my days of mining with the dwarves. I remembered coming across iron, gold, silver, and even adamantium, but I didn’t remember seeing a trace of mithril.

“Where do you even get mithril ore?” I blurted out.

She looked over at me and rolled her eyes. “It’s right next to the steel ore.”

“Oh,” I replied. “So, it isn’t an ore, but a smelting process instead? What’s the base metal?”

She gave me a look of grudging approval. “Electrum. So, not a base ore-“

“But a base alloy of gold and silver,” I replied. “Huh. And you mentioned magicite, which wouldn’t alloy at all, so does that mean you just need it to infuse the metal with mana as it’s smelting?”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

That got a hint of a smile from her. “Not bad, knife-ears. Maybe I was wrong about you after all.” She paused as her grin reappeared. “You seem to really want some armor from me.”

I nodded. “Yes?”

“And there’s no way someone that stupid stick carver sent would know a lick about forging.”

I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. “Uhh. Sure?”

Her grin turned a bit scary. “Then if you want to be able to ever order armor in this city, and you don’t want to be charged with trespassing, damage to property, and assault-“

I swallowed.

“-it would seem I just got my first apprentice, at least until the next batch of mithril’s complete. Congratulations, you start immediately.”

------

Despite appearances, I wasn’t actually that intimidated by the aged dwarf. However, I was still in character, and Filarion would have been.

Internally, I was a bit excited. I hadn’t touched any crafting classes during my time in Placeholder, and I was happy that I would get a chance to learn from the best.

Well, until I learned what her idea of “apprentice” meant.

Get gold ore, silver ore, and magicite. And don’t come back until you have enough to replace what you ruined. I frowned. Isn’t that more “errand boy” than apprentice? I sighed and asked where I could get raw goods like that.

Surprisingly, the third item on the list was the easiest in my case. I mean, I had my cult stockpiling it, and I carried a decent chunk on me to fill up when I had the spare mana, so that was already squared away.

The silver ore and gold ore were a different story, but I finally secured some after I told a group of two merchants on truth stone who it was for.

“That’s surprising,” one of them commented. “Didn’t we just send out a shipment to Thorgrala Mastersmith recently?”

The other one frowned and pulled out a ledger. “Yes… just last week. Was there a problem with the materials? If so, we could lodge a complaint with our supplier.”

I shook my head. “No, no problems with the materials. Some idiot just interrupted her work and ruined a batch of mithril.”

“I would hate to be him!” one of them said, and they both laughed. I followed along, but my laughter was a bit forced.

“We can send out the shipment tomorrow morning,” the one checking the ledger said. “Will that work?”

I frowned. I wanted to get the fetch quest over as soon as possible. “Actually, could I take a look at it?”

They looked at each other and shrugged but eventually led me to a couple of overly large chests.

I think that was the first time I encountered Placeholder inventory when it was applied to everyday merchant logistics. I probably would have given them a weird look if I hadn’t been in character.

“Gold ore is in this one,” the first merchant said as he patted one chest. “And silver is in this. With the payment you gave, Thorgrala is entitled to about a quarter of it.”

Just for kicks, I checked the inventories and saw that they were filled to the brim with gold and silver… a lot more than would have fit using everyday physics.

However, I also realized something else.

“Could I just take it now?” I asked.

It was their turn to give me a quizzical look. “I suppose that would be fine. Do you have your own cart and chests, or were you looking for-“

“That should be everything,” I cut him off as I exited the inventory. “Thanks!”

I left the befuddled merchants behind as I strode away with the entire shipment I had paid for essentially stowed away in my back pocket.

[Pack Mule] does come in handy sometimes. I chuckled to myself.

From there, it was back to the master smith’s abode.

Once again, the front door was locked. And just like before, I could hear the rhythmic sound of her hammering coming from inside. So, I decided I might as well repeat my last mistake and hop the wall for a second time.

The only difference was that this time I didn’t interrupt her work. Instead, I watched as she pounded away on some steel over at a different furnace.

Does she have a different furnace for each metal? I asked myself. My first thought was that it was a bit wasteful, but by my second thought, I already agreed with her. Yeah, if each metal has a different melting point, and some need to have magicite injected into them, that makes sense. It would also cut down on contamination.

However, as I examined each of the furnaces a bit closer and realized that one of them was made of adamantium, I realized exactly how expensive a proposition that was. The answer was “very.”

When her hammering finally died down, I showed myself again.

“I’m back,” I said.

“By the great hammer of Pumil!” she shouted. Then she scowled. “I thought I told you I didn’t want to see your face until you had replacements for the materials you ruined.”

“I do,” I said with a shrug.

She scoffed, so I replied by opening a trade window with her and putting all the ore in there.

She looked at the window. Then she looked at me. Then she looked back at the window.

“You’re not some [Crooked Trader] or [Charlatan], are you?” she asked suspiciously.

I sighed. “Just take the stuff.”

“You think an old woman like me can carry all that?” she asked. “Just put it away instead!”

“Away” turned out to be some overly large barrels near the furnaces. After stuffing everything inside their inventories and giving her the magicite, she finally believed me.

“Well, I’ll be an elf’s grandma,” she said. “You actually did it in just a few hours.”

I nodded. “Yup, so what’s next?”

She shook her head. “We’re done. You did your part. I won’t blacklist you, and you’re free to go on your way.” She shooed me. “Now get out of here. I still have a lot of work left to do.”

Internally I scowled. You’re supposed to let me stay on now that I’ve been so helpful!

However, I knew that Filarion would have to take a different tact.

“Wait!” I said. “If you’re the highest level [Armorsmith] in Jenkins-“

“Highest level [Armorsmith] in the world,” she corrected me.

“-then you must always be on the lookout for new materials to craft your armor with, right?” I asked. That got her attention, so without further ado, I pulled a dragon bone out of my inventory.

“What about this?” I asked. “Would you be able to make any armor with this?”

She snorted. “What is it with you adventurers trying to make armor out of bone?” She took the bone from me nonetheless. “To answer your question, yes, I could make armor out of this-”

She let that hang just long enough to get me excited.

“-but it would be the most worthless, hole-ridden excuse for armor, and it wouldn’t even provide that great of defense.”

“But it comes from a great magical beast, surely-“

In answer, she put the bone on top of the anvil and struck it a few times. It cracked, splintered, and then shattered.

She chuckled as she tossed the ruined bone over to me. “Maybe try giving it to that stick carver Elnil. Maybe he’ll make you a walking stick with it.”

Well, frick. I thought.

She shooed me off again. “Now, you’ve wasted enough of my time. Leave, or maybe I will blacklist you after all.”

Fortunately, dragon bone wasn’t the only thing I had on me.

“But what about these?” I asked as I pulled out a red scale from my inventory.

It was amazing to see the transformation of the elderly dwarf just in terms of body language. She went from dismissive to intrigued in no time flat.

She took the scale from me without a word. She tapped it a few times with her hammer and then gave it a few more powerful blows without incident.

“Interesting,” she muttered to herself. “Tough. Disperses blunt trauma. Likely has high bludgeoning resist as armor.” She shook her head. “Wouldn’t work for a full suit, but as an extra layer…”

Then she finally remembered the elf in the room.

“Where did you say you got these?” she asked.

“I inherited them,” I… half-lied? I did kind of inherit them from my previous life, if that counted for anything. “Supposedly, they came from great flying beasts called dragons.”

She nodded. “Figures they come from an extinct creature,” she murmured. Then looking back at me, she cleared her throat. “So… how many of those do you have, and what do you want for them?”

“I have quite a few,” I replied. “And as for my payment…”

I debated that for a moment. Honestly, I could have probably just gotten her to make me my armor and called it a done deal, but I was either too in character or too fixated on being her apprentice.

“Teach me how to make armor,” I blurted out.

She scowled. “I’ve never had an apprentice, and there’s no way I’m taking one on now. Especially some adventurer who can’t even take both classes.”

“Both classes?” I asked.

“I’ll give you this one lesson for free knife-ears,” she said. “If you want to be the best [Armorsmith], you also have to be the best [Blacksmith]. And since you can’t take both those classes, we’re done here.”

I am a [Blacksmith]. I am an [Armorsmith]. I told myself. Two notifications later, I said, “Okay, I have both those subclasses. What next?”

“What kind of advanced class do you have?” she asked in disbelief. Then with a shake of her head, she continued. “Doesn’t matter. You should also be a [Weaponsmith], so that-“

“Done,” I replied.

She stopped and sighed. “I’m not getting rid of you, am I?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Fine. Show me how many scales you have to see if you’re worth the headache I can already feel forming.”

I offered her about half of my stock in a trade window.

“That’s enough for… 4, maybe 5 full suits of armor,” she said.

I looked at her expectantly.

“Fine,” she said with a sigh. “You start first thing tomorrow.”

“Yes!” I shouted as I pumped my fist.

I was used to the 3 foot 6 woman looking down on me, but I thought I caught a hint of a smirk on her face.

The next morning came quickly, and I showed up at her place bright and early. For once, I got to go through the front door.

“You’re late,” she said.

“I am?” I asked in confusion.

“If you want to be the best, you have to be started before the sun is up and finished after it’s set,” she said sternly. “Now get in here. I have your first task for you.”

She led me over to the steel forge and pulled a piece of red-hot metal out.

“Now, fold it 1000 times,” she said.

I had to admit, the weeb part of me was stoked about that. Wasn’t anime always going on about katanas that were folded 1000 times?

I worked on that for the better part of two weeks. She gave me precious little guidance during that entire time, and I thought I caught her smirking while watching me more than once.

However, I finally finished.

“Done, master!” I called out.

“Good,” she said as she came over.

I was practically beaming, which is why her follow-up was so cruel.

“Now, apologize to this piece of metal,” she stated.

“I… what?”

“Apologize to this piece of metal that you ruined,” she stated bluntly as she looked it over.

“I… I’m sorry?” I said to the piece of metal. Then, without further ado, she took the metal and chucked it over into a corner.

“Now that we got that out of the way, we can start with real smithing,” she said with a chuckle.

“That wasn’t real smithing?” I asked in confusion.

“No, but it is tradition. Every new apprentice has to make the same mistake that the great smith Toby did when he first began.”

Toby certainly didn’t sound like a dwarven name, but Thorgrala didn’t seem like she would be willing to elaborate about that. My best guess was that he was an Earther brought over as a dwarf, but I had a bigger fish to fry at the moment.

“What mistake did he make?” I asked.

“Overfolding,” she replied. “Tell me, knife-ears. What is the purpose of folding a blade?”

“It… makes it stronger?”

She rapped my hand that was resting on the anvil with her hammer.

“No,” she stated flatly as I recoiled. “You fold a blade to remove impurities, to even out ones that can’t be removed, or to combine metals of different grades. Even if you’re working with the worst of metals, anything more than 20 folds means you’re just fatiguing the metal. Now, come, it’s time to get to the real work.”

From then on, my “real work” consisted of basically doing whatever she told me. And even then, I could tell I was slowing her down in the long run, even though I didn’t ask any questions.

… Well, I tried not to ask questions.

“What’s the difference between [Blacksmith] and [Armorsmith] anyway?” I asked during a lull in hammering.

“Look at your skills and figure it out yourself,” she grunted. “But not right now. Heat the mithril furnace. I’m going to make something worthwhile for once.”

“Is steel not worth your while?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

She looked at me and sighed. “Steel is a fantastic metal. But the answer to that question is no,” she stated bluntly. “The best armor you can make with steel is major tier, and you need mithril or adamantium to hit greater.”

“Then why don’t you just forge that?” I asked.

She snorted. “Look, knife-ears. I’m doing well for myself, but I’m not made of money. And even if I was, all of Pumil doesn’t dig up enough magicite or adamantium to keep me going year-round. Besides, every metal has its place, and you should learn to respect that.”

I paused for a bit. “So, copper has its place at the low end for weapons and armor, iron and steel have the middle, and mithril and adamantium have the high end?” I frowned. “What about silver and gold? Where do they fit in?”

When her only response was a scowl, I finally remembered that I was supposed to be heating the mithril furnace. I rushed over, lit the fire, and started stoking the flames.

“To answer your question, it’s about tier as well as usage,” she said. “You’re right. Copper, iron, steel, mithril, and adamantium are good for weapons and armor. However, mithril and adamantium have trade-offs.”

She checked the furnace’s temp on a gauge and nodded.

“Adamantium is the toughest metal out there, but it doesn’t like magic one bit. Make a blade out of it, and it will have the highest damage value out there, but it won’t want to be enchanted. Make armor out of it, and you’ll get some of the best physical resistance ratings along with a side of magic resistance.” She shook her head. “But a full suit of adamantium is heavy. In addition to not allowing enchants, you better be strong enough to move around in that.”

She started pouring in the ore even as she continued.

“Meanwhile, mithril is both light and enchantable. It doesn’t protect as well as adamantium, or even steel, but you don’t have to be a high-level [Warrior] to be able to move around in it.”

“And silver and gold?” I prompted.

“Silver and gold are the jewelry metals,” she replied. “I am not a jewelry maker. The only business you’ll see me do in that is smelting it into bars. No one else can get it as pure as I can with my [Blacksmith] levels.” She began stirring the mixture with an adamantium rod. “Now, if you’re done with questions, it’s time to get back to work!”

I shut up and did as I was told for the rest of the day. And, like she had told me to earlier, I snuck a glance at some of my new classes. I learned that [Armorsmith] gave me [Craft Lesser Armor], while [Blacksmith] gave me… [Heat Resistance].

Yay. I thought sarcastically when I looked that one up. Just what I needed out of a subclass. Thanks, System.

However, the nice thing was that it certainly cleared things up.

[Blacksmith] is general-purpose forging and smelting, while [Armorsmith] is specific to armor. Makes sense.

“Since I can only [Craft Lesser Armor], does that mean I’m ruining the quality of the things I’m helping you with?” I asked.

She snorted. “No. I’m the one who’s finishing the craft, so it uses my skills. The only way you could ruin it is if you botched the materials or the process when I wasn’t watchin’.”

Despite how much I was irritating her, I had one final question that I couldn’t keep myself from asking.

“Armor resizes to the wearer,” I said.

“Yes,” she replied bluntly. “Is that a question?”

“Then why don’t you just make suits of armor that are sized for dwarves to save on material costs?” I asked.

She paused, and for a second I thought she would explode. “Finally,” she sighed. “A good question.” I decided it was best not to ruin my good question by opening my mouth. Eventually, she continued. “Each grade of armor has a minimum amount of material that you have to put in. Go too low, and System will punish you with a lower tier for trying to skimp. It’s also easier to see imperfections when making it for one of you tallfolk since there’s more area to it. Now, you’ve used your quota of questions for this month. Shut up and get back to work.”

“Yes, master,” I replied.

Unfortunately, I came up with yet another stupid question that I wanted to ask. [Craft Lesser Armor] and [Craft Lesser Weapon] implied the existence of skills for crafting up to Greater. To put it another way, that was 5 skills that had to be used for that, and if the craftsman classes consisted of just that type of thing, I wasn’t sure that it was worth it to grind them up.

Especially since making good gear was hard. Who knew?

Fortunately, I had a cult I had tasked with finding out information about subclasses.

After sending out some [Messages], my suspicions were mostly confirmed. Level 1 was lesser, 2 was minor, 4 was standard, 6 was major, and 7 was greater. And I would have probably tossed in the towel if I didn’t learn what level 3 was.

[Appraise Armor]. Or [Appraise Weapon]. I paused as I mulled that over. That would be helpful. I could tell with just a skill whether someone would be a threat or not.

The only problem with that plan was that it would only cover one part of the crafting side of things. There was still the magic side with staves, wands, and enchanting to worry about.

Until I had a lightbulb moment.

Maybe “that stick carver Elnil” is due for an unwanted apprentice of his own…

That led to me asking my current master a question the next day.

“Do you think I could get tomorrow off?” I asked. “I have an errand I need to run.”

She chuckled. “Eager, are we? You should probably wait at least another week before checking. While you might have a level waiting for you in [Armorsmith], you don’t have one waiting for you in [Blacksmith]. I can tell.”

“Huh?” I asked. I had no idea where our conversation took that turn.

“You were planning on checking if you’ve leveled up, right?” she said as she started pounding on another piece of metal. “I think you’re there for [Armorsmith], but I don’t think you’ve quite made it for [Blacksmith]. Best wait another week to be sure.”

I shook my head. “No, the errand was something else. It’s not related to smithing.”

The hammering stopped.

“Then, I forbid it,” she stated. “No apprentice of mine will waste their time on other errands if I have my say.”

It was finally my turn to snort. “Oh, is that so? Well, maybe I don’t have to be your apprentice! I paid you for this, so if I want to take a day off, what’s that to you?”

“If you want to be the best, you have to be 100% dedicated to-“

“And who the heck ever said I wanted to be the best?” I shot back.

“Then, get out of here,” she growled. “And don’t come back.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me,” I replied. “But if I do, I’m taking back the dragon scales. Maybe I’ll be generous and leave you an eighth if you apologize right now.”

Silence hung between us for several seconds.

“Take your day off. I’ll see you back here bright and early the day after tomorrow,” she finally said as she turned away.

“Make that the day after that,” I replied. “And the next time you see me, I’ll be a level 2 [Blacksmith] and [Armorsmith], despite all your doubts in me.”

I left in a huff that I didn’t have to act to achieve. Unfortunately, Filarion had just cut a check that Titus would have difficulty cashing.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, I berated myself. Where the heck am I going to find an obelisk in the next two days? Jenkins doesn’t have any zones near it, and even if it did, I would have to claim it and practically announce my presence to the world!

The solution was as obvious as it was expensive.

Well, time to make one. Better find a good spot…

And so I rose early the following morning, traveled north for about half a day, and then cut off the road to find an out-of-the-way spot.

Once I did, I spent my 100,000 gold and set up perhaps the most basic of zones possible.

For monsters? Daves. Zone name? Dave Paradise. The boss? “Blob of Daves.”

Yes, I was hoping that would become the plural of daves. The System seemed to take it, so I was hopeful.

As for the name, I could only hope that someday a [Son of Dave] would stumble across my tiny, hidden zone and blow a gasket once they read the name.

Though, there was also some method to my dave-ness. I figured that when that zone finally decided to go on the offensive, it wouldn’t matter much if it was just a bunch of daves. Also, the half day trip was more than enough to ensure it wasn’t eligible for a monster wave, even if Jenkins wasn’t a capital city and immune to them anyway.

However, that wasn’t the main event. The main event was when I finally put my hand on the obelisk and said upgrade.

The results were as I hoped. 1 level in both [Blacksmith] and [Armorsmith]… and 2 levels in [Actor].

I guess I have been spending all of my time in character. I thought as I looked over the new skills. Unfortunately, I don’t think that either of these will be very helpful… unless I’m planning on putting on a play.

I didn’t worry about that too long, though. I needed to get back to town quickly if I didn’t want to sleep on hard ground, and my back still greatly preferred a bed.

I made it with plenty of time to spare and woke early to search out yet another reclusive crafter. Elnil Mastercarver.

Between him and Thorgrala Mastersmith, I was starting to develop serious questions about how their last names happened, but I figured that would have to wait for a later date.

I made it to his house/workshop in the afternoon and was treated to a familiar sight on the door.

“All meetings by appointment only. No solicitors,” I read aloud.

And so, I knocked.

There was no answer.

I knocked again.

Once again, no answer.

The third time, I heard a muffled shout from inside that sounded like “go away,” so of course, I replied by knocking even louder.

That was enough to summon an irate, aged dwarf to the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked furiously.

“I have a material that you are-“

That was all I got before he attempted to slam the door while shouting, “No solicitors!”

Attempted was the key word. The door caught on the dragon bone that I shoved in there, and that was enough to get his attention.

“Dragon bone,” he said with a touch of awe. “Where did you get this?”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I’m offering to sell it to you.”

He opened the door back up. “Alright, name your price.”

“Teach me enchanting and staff making three days a week,” I replied.

He shook his head. “No deal. I don’t take apprentices.”

I sighed. “A pity. I was hoping to learn from the best [Enchanter] in Jenkins-“

“Best [Enchanter] in the world,” he corrected.

“-but I guess I’ll have to make do with the second-best.” I put the bone away. “Have a good day, Mastercarver.”

He waffled back and forth a moment before finally calling out. “Wait!”

I stopped and turned around.

“Just three days a week?” he asked. “And how much dragon bone are you willing to part with?”

I opened up a trade window and put in half my stock. “This much,” I replied.

A wide smile lit his face. “Well, I suppose it is never too late to take on an apprentice. When will you be starting?”

“Today?” I asked.

He nodded. “Of course, we best get started. Come on in!”

And so, my dual apprenticeship with two of the greatest artisans of Placeholder began. However, that wasn’t the exciting bit. No, that… that was still to come.