The Shitty Elf and the Shitty Dwarf (13)

Three years had passed since I became the Shitty Dwarf master's apprentice. By then, I had begun taking on the smithing of all kinds of everyday goods, not just nails, and at last I was being allowed to practice making weapons and armor.

That said, the basics were no different for everyday goods, weapons, and armor.

Since these were items used in battle, I sometimes needed special techniques to make them more durable, but basically, it was simply an extension of what I had learned so far.

I always considered what each thing was for and how it would be used, worked the metal, and shaped it to suit its purpose.

Though that sounded like all there was to it, accomplishing it was difficult—and tremendously enjoyable at the same time.

Perhaps it was because I had been immersed in blacksmithing for the past three years, but my body had grown considerably more muscular.

Of course, compared to my Dwarf master, I was still long and lanky, but I thought I had probably become more muscular than any other High Elf.

Once my smithing training reached a stopping point, it might be interesting to learn how to handle some kind of weapon and put these muscles to use.

When I thought of people I knew who used swords, the first to come to mind was Clayas, one of Airena's companions and a warrior.

If I asked him to teach me swordsmanship, he would probably laugh and take me on.

However, Clayas—or rather, White Lake—had apparently recently risen to seven-star rank, and requests specifically naming them were now pouring in from distant towns, so they seemed to be extremely busy rushing about.

It would have been too inconsiderate to ask someone in that state to teach me swordsmanship purely out of curiosity, when I had no particular purpose beyond wanting to learn.

But perhaps thinking about that was why?

When I showed the sword I had forged to the Shitty Dwarf master, he gave a derisive snort, so I called it quits for today's smithing practice.

Well, I wasn't angry that he had laughed.

I had already thought, even before showing it to him, that this wasn't very good.

Rather, because he had made it unmistakably clear through his reaction that it was no good, I was able to decide to stop practicing without pointlessly struggling on.

The fact that I wasn't angry also meant that I still had a long way to go as a smith.

Trying to do anything when I couldn't concentrate would only waste time.

Worse, I might injure myself, or acquire a bad habit and dull my skills.

I was much better off giving up, switching gears, and tending the shop.

So, while I was minding the shop, a boy came in toward evening.

His clothes were shabby, but the air he gave off wasn't that of a desperate stray dog.

He was like a young sapling standing straight-backed, exuding the pride of someone who earned his own livelihood and, however hard his life was, lived without shame before others.

After looking around the shop with interest, he headed for the shelf displaying the discounted goods.

The items my Shitty Dwarf master had made were never sold cheaply, but the pieces displayed there were among the best of what I had made and had been judged fit for practical use.

They were practice pieces, and for that very reason, they had been priced low for novice adventurers.

In other words, he was a novice adventurer who had come to shop with the money he had saved from doing odd jobs around town, clutching it tightly in his hand.

For adventurers in Vistcoat, the standard way to make money was to enter the nearby Pulha Great Forest to gather materials or hunt monsters.

White Lake was constantly being summoned by requests and seemed terribly busy, but even so, whenever they had time to spare, they were still making plans to enter the Pulha Great Forest.

I sometimes wondered what they planned to do with all the money they earned, but perhaps adventuring itself had already become their goal, rather than the earnings.

Even if they were only entering the forest to gather materials, weapons for self-defense were essential in the Pulha Great Forest, where monsters appeared in great numbers.

So novice adventurers worked small odd jobs around town and saved money with the goal of acquiring such a weapon.

Even one of the cheap weapons I had forged was a very large purchase for a novice adventurer like him, and he examined his choices with utmost seriousness.

That was why I didn't butt in with unnecessary advice.

If asked, of course I would inquire about his skills, preferences, and budget, then recommend what I thought was the best choice.

However, if he wanted to entrust his life to something he had chosen himself rather than to someone else's recommendation, it would be tactless to interfere.

Well, if he tried to buy something he plainly couldn't handle, or seemed not to have thought things through at all, I would speak up even so, since his life was at stake.

After waiting for a while, he chose a single mace.

It was a good choice.

A mace was a type of bludgeoning weapon with a metal tip and no blade; perhaps “mace” was simply the term people recognized more readily.

Its greatest feature, first and foremost, was its durability.

Also, because its center of gravity lay near its head, it was easy to put considerable power into a swing.

However, it was less maneuverable than a sword and probably not well suited to feints.

In other words, it was difficult to use for the fine exchanges necessary when fighting humans, but it was ideal for giving monsters a good, solid smash.

Even a person wearing full-body armor that blades could not penetrate could be beaten down with a mace.

It was easy to handle and had considerable power.

Provided one had sufficient strength, it was a weapon I could confidently recommend even to a novice adventurer.

Of course, novice adventurers who tended to assume that a warrior naturally meant a swordsman rarely picked up bludgeoning weapons like this one.

"Um, excuse me. I'd like this, but is there any armor you recommend buying with it? ...Um, my budget is about this much."

The boy, holding the mace in his hands, asked me somewhat bashfully.

Ah, yes, a mace was somewhat more affordable precisely because it had no blade.

"Can you swing that easily with one hand? Won't its weight throw you off balance? If you can, you should carry a shield too; if not, you're better off focusing on gripping it securely rather than carrying a shield. Also, if you plan to enter the Pulha Great Forest, you should properly protect your legs. Leather gear will do."

I was a little pleased that the boy had finally turned to me for advice.

Being relied on like this made me feel like a capable shopkeeper, didn't it?

I certainly thought so.

As a High Elf, I didn't need armor in the forest, but expecting humans to do the same would obviously be a mistake.

Ideally, he should wear a leather helmet, gauntlets, and greaves, minimizing the amount of skin left exposed as much as possible.

If a person hurried through the forest, even the branches and leaves of the plants could injure their skin.

However, given his budget, it would probably be safer to protect his upper body with thick clothing and his lower body with armor.

Humans walked on two legs, while most monsters either walked on four or crawled along the ground.

Consequently, they were often lower to the ground than humans.

Moreover, while a human holding a weapon could protect their upper body by swinging it, their lower body—especially everything below the shins—was difficult to protect because the weapon could not reach it.

If their legs were injured and they fell, a human could do nothing but be killed.

So he should protect his legs with armor first, then outfit his upper body with armor as soon as he started earning more.

That seemed like the better choice to me.

Of course, the best option would be to continue doing odd jobs around town until he had acquired a complete set of armor, but whether to do so was for the boy to decide.

I would answer only what he asked.

It was just a gut feeling, but I thought he would become a good adventurer.

Judging by the way he lightly swung the mace in an open space, he had considerable strength for a novice, and his core was solid as well.

That was proof that it was not merely something he had been born with, but the result of proper training.

As I watched him, a thought suddenly occurred to me.

Luck, such as whether or not he was blessed with good companions, would play a part, but if things went smoothly, he would save money and come back to buy a better weapon.

Well, of course, I expected he would come in for weapon maintenance before then, but eventually, once his current weapon no longer satisfied him, the time would come for him to replace it.

And when that time came, I realized that if he chose a weapon I had forged again, it would surely make me very happy—and I would enjoy it immensely.

For that to happen, the boy absolutely had to survive, and I had to improve my smithing skills as well.

Thinking that filled me with tremendous motivation.

After I explained how to perform simple maintenance on the weapon and told him that it would still require regular servicing, the boy told me his name, thanked me, and left the shop, happily clutching his mace.

The boy's name was Astre.

Even if it was only for maintenance, I was looking forward to his next visit.