For me, Katashi's refusal was a complete surprise. After all, nothing seemed to foretell it! The whole conversation was going exactly as I had planned. The timely shown backpack served as the first hook. Then, as I approached the Japanese man closer, he, as a professional, couldn't help but notice my unusual gambeson. And that worked, too! At least the interest in the blacksmith's eyes was definitely genuine. Moreover, I achieved the main goal at the initial stage of communication with Katashi, namely - I convinced him of my competence! That is, through the demonstration of the backpack and gambeson, I proved that I was not a fantasizer who had seen too much in movies or computer games, but someone who knew precisely what he wanted. As the "memory of the future" suggested, such an approach in communication with the Japanese should have worked perfectly. But… Something, apparently, still went wrong, and Kay responded with a refusal. This turn of events slightly threw me off track. Everything was going so well and exactly according to my script, and then such a twist, which I did not expect at all.

If someone other than Katashi had been in his place, I would have tried to ask him about the reasons for the refusal, but knowing the Japanese's character, I understood that now such questions would only aggravate the situation.

So, what should I do? Stage a scene and "get offended" in an attempt to press on the emotional component? No, that won't work. If there's one thing Kay definitely can't stand, it's various "hysterics." Maybe press through money, offering a very substantial reward for his work? Such a thing could have worked if I had voiced it before receiving the refusal, but now it's too late.

While such thoughts were racing through my head, I wasn't standing still like a statue but bent over to the backpack, took out my tabard from it, and leisurely put it on over the gambeson. After that, smoothing the fabric of the cotta, I tied the orcish belt around my waist and slung the backpack over my right shoulder.

Apparently, I'm not as smart as I think I am, but all this time, I haven't come up with a good way out of the situation. On the other hand, even through such a short meeting and conversation, I actually achieved a lot. And, perhaps, I even significantly pushed Katashi forward. I'm sure he remembered my words well, and this time, he won't spend almost a month of precious time creating the lightest possible armor, even at the expense of its protective properties. That was in the Last Cycle, when, inspired by the possibilities that magic offers, as well as unique materials such as Valirium and Avalonium, Katashi spent a lot of time creating light armor, which became his sort of "idée fixe." And, it must be said, he achieved his goal; the plate armor he made based on the ancient Roman lorica segmentata indeed turned out to be almost a third lighter than what the local masters offered. At the same time, this lightweight armor was not inferior in its protective properties to heavier analogs. So, it seemed everything was fine, and the goal was achieved, but in reality, it turned into a failure. Because with the increase in physical attributes, such as strength and endurance, as a person ascends the Spiral of Elevation, when faced with a choice between lighter or heavier but providing better protection versions of armor, both locals and earthlings preferred to carry "extra kilograms" on themselves, receiving better protective characteristics in return. On Earth, when it came to infantry soldiers, saving every gram of weight was important, but in Ain, this aspect was somewhat different. For example, Wootz fighters sometimes wore two chainmails, one on top of the other. By their physical capabilities, they could afford it, and the double weight of standard armor had little effect on their combat performance. Nonetheless, Katashi, led by his Earth memory and preconceptions, then overlooked this obvious difference between the worlds. I really hope that my words and hints will be enough for him not to repeat that mistake.

Of course, all of this is far less than what I had hoped to achieve with this meeting, but the unexpected refusal has shuffled the deck. Naturally, I could try to press harder or play more cunningly. But there's a risk that Katashi will put me on his "unworthy list" if I push too far, and might not deal with me at all in the future. Well, not everything is so bad. And this refusal is far from the end of everything; it's just a minor setback. I'm sure this won't be my last meeting with the Japanese. In this Cycle, Katashi and I have crossed paths for the second time, and on both occasions, I've made at least a positive impression on him. At our first meeting, I showed myself to be a good fighter, capable of unorthodox solutions. And now, I've demonstrated an understanding of defensive armament and the nuances of its application in Ain. So, I hope that at our next meeting, I will be able to build our dialogue more wisely on this foundation.

All the while I was slowly getting dressed, Kay watched me attentively and silently. At first, he was very tense, apparently preparing to fend off my verbal attacks and questions. But I kept quiet, not showing any dissatisfaction with the refusal. This relaxed the Japanese a bit, but only for a while. When I had slung my backpack over my shoulders, he became tense again, not understanding my behavior. My actions did not fit into any pattern he was familiar with, and Kay felt out of place. Adjusting the straps of the backpack, I jumped on the spot, checking that nothing was jangling, and, nodding satisfactorily to myself, picked up Striking Whisper from the ground. Then, after cracking my neck, I turned to Katashi and, accompanying a light formal bow with a warm smile, said:

"No hard feelings. I was glad to see you, Kay, and to learn that you are alive and well. But since I still need the armor, I'll have to be satisfied with what the local craftsmen offer. Good luck to you in everything."

Having said this, I spread my arms, showing in every way that I was not at all upset by the refusal.

"Wait!" Before I could turn away, the smith said. Lowering his shield, the Japanese put out his right hand forward, as if showing his peaceful intentions. "I didn't mean to offend you with my refusal."

"One can only be offended if they take offense," I smiled in response. "I perfectly understand that everyone has their own affairs and plans."

To affirm these words, I gave a slight smile. Given the circumstances, the best thing I could do in this situation was to maintain a good impression of myself, meaning not to insist or, even more so, not to create a scandal. One thing baffled me, though: I sensed an inner aggression in Katashi, but why it was directed at me was completely unclear. Perhaps I just showed up at a bad time, and external circumstances piled up? Or did something happen in this cycle, and the Japanese man is suspicious of all earthlings? In any case, the best thing I can do is not to make things even worse.

"I'm currently busy." Despite the puzzling internal tension, Katashi clearly did not want to make an enemy of me, and now, it seemed to me, he was trying to smooth over the abruptness of his refusal. "A few days ago, I took on an order and have encountered certain difficulties with it. If I miss the deadline, it will impact my reputation as a master. So, I simply cannot take on your order right now. Not until I've dealt with the previous one. And that could take anywhere from a couple of days to more than a week."

An order causing difficulties for Katashi? What on earth was he ordered that he can't handle? At first, I didn't quite believe what the blacksmith said, but remembering his assistant's story about how the Japanese man's house was recently robbed, I figured that the issue might indeed be related to this theft. And if that's the case, perhaps I could play the situation a bit differently.

"Difficulties?" Turning to the Japanese and raising my right eyebrow, I asked again. "You're speaking to a specialist in resolving difficult situations."

"I'm accustomed to correcting my own mistakes." That's Katashi all over, stubborn as a bull.

"A commendable trait." Not wanting to push further, I nodded in response. "Alright, I won't keep you any longer. And yes, it was good to see you alive and well!"

"How can this be..." Noticing that I was about to leave, Oldon rushed over to us, "Master Kay, how could you do this?! Sir Raven has traveled such a long way to see you, and you didn't even invite him to sit down at the table! Is this the way to act?"

Indignation burst forth from the young blacksmith's assistant, the kind that would normally befit a venerable steward or an elderly servant of some wealthy family, making it seem somewhat absurd when coming from this youth. However, this unexpected onslaught also disconcerted Katashi. As far as I remembered, the Japanese greatly respected various formalities, as well as ostentatious politeness and social rituals, and here he was being accused of neglecting such basic matters.

"My fish soup is just about ready and will soon be served!" Oldon continued, waving his arms. "Moreover, since Master Raven has been waiting all day to talk with you and has been training non-stop, he must be starving by now."

Apparently, it was not often that the assistant dared to contradict his master, and this sudden attack slightly bewildered Katashi.

"And you, young master, need to eat before you leave." The youth intensified his pressure. "Master Kay, I've packed a basket of supplies for your journey, but that won't replace a hot meal."

Curiously, Katashi seemed to be preparing for a trip, which meant that the shield in his hands and the war hammer on his belt might just be preparations for an upcoming journey rather than him arming himself upon seeing me.

"Um-m-m-m." Despite being a talented blacksmith, the Japanese remained quite a young man and now clearly felt a bit overwhelmed by his assistant's pressure. "Indeed... I apologize; I forgot about basic politeness." Bowing his head in a gesture of regret, Katashi turned to me. "I invite you to share dinner with me." His words sounded so grandiose, as if he was inviting me to an imperial tea ceremony rather than dinner, the main dish of which was supposed to be a simple fish soup.

Barely containing a smile, I patted my stomach and said, as if in doubt:

"I'm not one to impose."

"Yes... No... It's all right." The slight reddening of the tips of his ears showed that Katashi was thrown off balance. "Besides, I'm curious to hear what kind of armor you wanted to order. Judging by your backpack and gambeson, you're a practitioner who knows very well what he needs."

"If, after listening, you could advise what the local craftsmen could do or how to explain certain details to them..." I spread my hands apart as if bargaining.

"I will, where I can." The blacksmith's nod and subsequent gesture inviting me to follow him looked as if I had just become part of a Japanese film set in the times of the shogunate.

Oldon did not deceive us, and as soon as we entered the house and sat down at a simple table that looked a bit rough and unpretentious yet reliable, a pot with fish soup immediately appeared before us. After filling our bowls, the blacksmith's assistant left us alone, saying that he needed to chop more firewood. We ate in silence for the first minute. Then Katashi, clearly out of politeness, started a formal conversation, after which we smoothly transitioned to a topic of mutual interest.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"So, what's the difficulty you've encountered?" asked the Japanese. "What can't the local blacksmiths make that you need?"

"They might be able to," I shrugged. "I just haven't met any yet. But here's what I need..."

Putting my spoon aside, I placed my palm on the table and, using Illusion Magic, began to lay out my "wishes," abandoning any modesty and immediately moving on to my maximum requests.

"A cast half-cuirass covering the chest, shoulders, and back. The length of this half-cuirass down to the ribs. Rigid shoulders, on which there should be a standing collar three fingers high." At this request, Katashi winced, but I pretended not to notice his reaction. "The lower body, starting from the diaphragm, should be covered by lamellar armor made of plates about five by five centimeters, on thin tanned leather, stitched with canvas, the same as my gambeson." The image on my palm changed. "The attachment of these plates is like that of a Russian armor. This is when the top of the plates is sewn with thin wire to the base. Then, a leather strap is threaded through the middle on the inside, linking a row of plates into a whole. This strap is in no way connected to the leather base. Such attachment gives the armor better mobility than all other types of lamellar armor.

"I know what Russian armor is and its advantages and disadvantages, though I prefer to call it Ottoman," the Japanese's voice clearly conveyed respect; he obviously did not expect me to have such knowledge. "But why all these complexities?" He was genuinely curious.

"I used to be a professional gymnast in my youth," I openly admitted to Katashi, showing him that I intended to keep no secrets about my earthly biography. "Therefore, for my fighting style, it's crucial to maintain mobility in the lumbar region without sacrificing too much protection. The challenge is that I can't even theoretically conceive how to smartly combine an upper half-cuirass with a lamellar lower part. I can imagine it in my head, but I have no idea how well this concept would work in practice. And I wouldn't dare wear armor that I'm not confident in," I said, clicking my tongue in slight, feigned regret. "If it's too complicated, then a full cuirass will suffice for me, preferably a late-medieval infantry model, like the ones worn by conquistadors."

"I roughly get what you're talking about," the Japanese nods thoughtfully. "Go on."

"Shoulder armor should be articulated so that I can raise my arms vertically upwards and even walk on my hands if necessary. This is tricky because I can't even imagine how they would be constructed."

I' wasn't exaggerating here. In the Last Cycle, I had standard plate shoulder guards that, despite being excellently made, significantly limited the mobility of my arms when I needed to raise them above my head.

"However, for now, I'd settle for a chainmail option, perhaps a chainmail mantle over the shoulders. I'll have to see how it works in practice, and I don't have a clear solution yet. In this case, I'd prioritize mobility over protection," I explained as the pattern on my palm changed again. "Below, an articulated plate skirt covering at least two-thirds of the thighs. As for the helmet, that's a tough one. I've thought long and hard about it, but ultimately, I've concluded that a morion would be the best option for me, it's a Spanish…"

"I know."

"Great! A morion with a minimal crest and medium brim."

"Why a morion, not a sallet or another full helmet?" Katashi's voice carried genuine curiosity. "Seems like an odd and far from obvious choice. A morion can't accommodate a proper visor, and it offers poor protection for the back of the head."

"A visor?" I chuckled. "It would only be in the way. Let me explain. You seem to understand medieval armor and weapons quite well, don't you?"

"I do."

"Then, as an example, tell me, how many helmets designed for archers with visors or even face guards can you think of from history?"

"None," the blacksmith answered after a moment of thought. "All archer helmets are open-faced. There are a few exceptions, but they are rare and very specific. Are you an archer?"

"No, not an archer. But in this world, any warrior must also be proficient in magic, including long-range skills and abilities. Hence, a visor would be as much of an obstruction here as it was for archers in earthly history when aiming."

"Debatable, but I see your point. Still, why a morion and not an open sallet, which would offer much more protection?"

"Ears," I touched the tip of my ear lightly. "I need open ears."

"Why?" Katashi didn't understand.

"When your opponent possesses magic, being able to timely hear the crackle of a magical discharge, the sound of air being sliced by an ice arrow, or the faint ringing of an air barrier being erected, which is hard to see, can genuinely save your life. And when clearing dungeons, especially in semi-darkness, hearing becomes the most important sense. Fail to hear in time a poisonous spider or another creature sneaking up on you from the wall or ceiling. Or miss the sound of a sarcophagus lid opening behind you... And that's it, you're dead. You might consider this a personal preference, but, just like eyes, ears must be open. So it turns out that for me, a morion seems to be the best choice. Moreover, if you add a stiff collar and gorget to the cuirass, then the protection of the neck and the lower part of the face, as well as the occipital area, will be quite good."

"An open field of vision and unobstructed hearing..." It was evident that Katashi was still struggling to accept such an approach, but the more extensive his magical arsenal becomes, the easier he will understand the correctness of my choice. "Is that all?"

"No, under that armor, a thin chainmail would also be good to reliably cover the open zones: armpits, the inside of the arms, and the like. Plus, I need to redo my gambeson, reinforce those areas that seem weak, and conversely lighten those areas that will be reliably covered by steel."

"So, a three-layer armor." The Japanese slightly shook his head in dissatisfaction. "The first layer is a gambeson, which in your case is more like a full quilted fabric armor rather than a regular underarmor. According to you, that's eight kilograms. Then the chainmail, let's say, with short sleeves and fine mesh."

"Not a full chainmail, but rather something like a chainmail shirt, with sleeves to the elbow," I corrected him.

"Alright, but even so, with, for example, double weaving, that's at least the same eight kilograms. And the weight of what you described as the main armor..." Katashi briefly pondered, then said, "Considering the open forearms, elbows, and knees, as well as the almost complete lack of leg protection... That's another minimum of twelve kilograms! At least. So, nearly thirty in total! And that's without accounting for clothes, weapons, belt, and so on!" He shook his head. "Clearly too much for a foot soldier."

"For a foot soldier on Earth, I agree, it's excessive," I said, tilting my head and slightly raising my right eyebrow with a light smirk. "But on Ain, things are somewhat different." Leaning forward, I wrapped my hand around the leg of the table and, without any visible strain, lifted the table half a meter off the floor, doing so smoothly that not the slightest wave passed through the remnants of the soup in the pot. "I am Wootz, which makes me much stronger than any warrior on Earth. Moreover, all of us have a 'Mithril Body,' meaning we're far more resilient even than marathon runners. For me now, armor weighing thirty kilograms will feel no more than a normal chainmail would to a Viking."

Katashi opened his mouth to object, but noticing how effortlessly I still held the table by one leg, he thought better of it. I then set the table down, served myself some more food, and pretended to be absorbed in eating.

No matter how our further conversation unfolded, the main thing I had already done. I planted in Katashi the image of that armor, to which he would have come in time by himself, though without my intervention, it would have likely happened much later. Yes, he might initially dismiss what he heard, but still, he would return to my suggestions in his thoughts now and then. And the more often that happened, the sooner he would try to realize those thoughts in metal, and after, he would understand how convenient and functional the result would be.

Indeed, it might also happen that because of this conversation, Katashi comes up with something better than what we achieved in the Last Cycle. Such an outcome would please me as well. So, it turns out that no matter how the situation develops further, it will change in a positive direction for me. Yes, I probably won't get the armor of my dreams right now, but the "previous me" managed without it, so the current me will cope as well. I'll order something reasonable, though not as "wonderful," from local craftsmen; that will be enough until reaching the Legendary Coil.

Deep in thought, Katashi slowly finished his portion of soup and, with his hands clasped together, looked past my right shoulder. Having sat like that for almost a minute and a half without blinking once, he slightly shook himself and, as if seeing it for the first time, read my motto displayed on my cotta.

Interlude.

For the tenth time today, Katashi thought he had acted too hastily when he first confronted Raven with a weapon in hand, which violated all the rules of hospitality, and then spoke to him so sharply and, to put it mildly, rudely. His current interlocutor was not imposing, did not present his opinion as the only correct one, nor did he try to drag him into some dubious adventure. On the contrary, he was polite, deliberate, and ready to leave at any moment rather than insist on his own way. Perhaps this Raven was not the Raven he had heard about recently in a tavern in Bordum from an unknown earthling who hid his face under a deep hood. The Raven described by that person was a scoundrel who, for the sake of profit, was ready not just to step on others but also to betray and kill. And the stranger in the tavern called that Raven nothing else but "Raven the Traitor."

The person sitting opposite him did not fit this description at all. He was an experienced fighter, which was evident not only from his confident movements but also from the memories Katashi retained from the second group trial. He hardly resembled a swindler or a liar. His interlocutor spoke openly, did not dodge questions, did not try to extort money or, conversely, drag him into any venture. Moreover, the fact that he came to him with his requests was quite understandable, as the local blacksmiths wouldn't grasp half of his words and explanations, or would misunderstand them, which could ultimately make everything worse. The person sitting opposite clearly understood what he wanted but did not know the manufacturing technology, which, however, was quite understandable if one were to believe his words about not being a blacksmith but a practical fighter.

The longer their conversation lasted, the clearer Katashi saw that the Raven sitting opposite him and the Raven the Traitor mentioned by the earthling hiding his face were probably different people. It seemed to be just a coincidence of names, or rather pseudonyms. After all, Katashi seemingly remembered the meaning of the word Raven in English, and it was clear that many in the new world could have taken such a name for themselves.

In fact, anyone could have named themselves that! For instance, a fan of Glen Cook's "The Black Company," an admirer of Edgar Allan Poe with his immortal "Nevermore," or even just a fan of some anime where this name often appears for one character or another. Thus, the fact that among the hundreds, if not thousands, of earthlings transferred to Ain, several people could have chosen such a pseudonym seemed like a very real possibility.

Folk wisdom says that the first impression of a person is always right. Katashi delved into his memories, trying to resurrect the impression he had when he first saw Raven. Cool-headed, skilled, dangerous - yes, indeed. Even then, from the first glance, Katashi noticed that he would not want to cross paths with such a person. But in that memory, there was no hint of a feeling of betrayal or fear of a stab in the back. On the contrary, he was confident that he could trust this person with his back. And it turned out he was right to trust him, as it was Raven who pulled him back when the blacksmith was injured in a battle with the blue-skinned creatures. And if one recalls how that Korean girl named Lan Lin spoke of him... She was angry with Raven, scolding him for not listening to others and only doing what he thought was right. But at the same time, the Japanese got the impression that, despite her quite genuine anger, the girl trusted this raven-headed man, no matter how much she tried to hide it behind her scolding.

No. Definitely, this Raven and the Raven mentioned by the earthling in the hood are different people! If that person had mentioned Raven the killer, there would have been no dissonance for Katashi. Because looking into the cold gray-steel eyes of the person sitting across the table, it became crystal clear: this person had killed. Such a look was in the eyes of the Yakuza his father had dealt with back on distant Earth. But what was not in that look was any hint of a possibility of betraying or setting someone up. No, however you look at it, his interlocutor did not resemble a "traitor" at all.

Coming to such a conclusion, Katashi felt his ears start to redden again, as his behavior and manner of conversation could easily have offended an innocent person. And he was fortunate that Raven simply did not want to take offense and start a conflict. Katashi considered himself to be polite, even courteous, having a bit of an obsession with this matter. And at that moment, he felt uncomfortable because he had succumbed to someone else's slander and behaved inappropriately…