Familiar Faces

He left the Adventurer Hall.

Then he turned and headed for the Blacksmith Shop, which was also located in the plaza.

Gauss had come to sell his spoils and buy some equipment.

His Wooden Spear was damaged, and during the previous battle, he'd felt that the long weapon was awkward to use while Mind Acceleration was active. So he planned to look for a new weapon at the Blacksmith Shop.

The Black Anvil Workshop was housed in a conspicuously blackened stone building, with a sign bearing its name. Gauss hadn't even come close before he could feel the temperature rise by several degrees.

The Black Anvil Workshop was tucked into a corner of the plaza and didn't stand out.

But Gauss knew it was the best Blacksmith Shop in all of Grayrock Town. The other workshops couldn't compare.

He'd reached that conclusion because he'd worked here as a temporary laborer for a while after first arriving in town.

Back then, he'd noticed that adventurers who looked formidable at a glance would drop by every so often to buy equipment.

Of course, most of the customers were still low-level adventurers.

Besides supplying elite weapons and armor, the Black Anvil Workshop also offered a large selection of affordable weapons made by its apprentices, along with some secondhand gear.

Though inexpensive, the weapons weren't poor quality. They were good enough for ordinary adventurers, at least.

When Gauss first bought a weapon a few days ago, he'd wondered whether to come here and take a look. In the end, though, his empty wallet had made him think better of it.

He walked into the shop.

The Black Anvil Workshop was divided into two sections, front and back. Its layout was much the same as when he'd worked here before.

The shop area displayed a wide variety of finished, standard-issue goods on racks. Behind it was a busy outdoor courtyard where the steady clanging of hammers rang out.

"Welcome, customer. Have a look around and see what you want."

The person at the counter was a male apprentice with an unremarkable face and freckles scattered across his cheeks.

As it happened, Gauss remembered him. They'd been something like casual acquaintances, though hardly close.

"Marlin, long time no see." Gauss greeted him first.

At the sound of his name, the blacksmith's apprentice looked up and scanned Gauss from head to toe.

After a moment of confusion, he spotted those striking jade-green eyes and suddenly seemed to remember something. He let out a series of excited cries.

"Oh! You're... you're! You're?"

He recognized Gauss, but the name had suddenly slipped his mind. A look of embarrassment gradually spread across his face.

"Gauss," Gauss supplied. "I can't believe I still remember your name, Marlin."

"Can't be helped. I deal with so many customers every day. What's weird about forgetting a name?" Marlin laughed and reached over to pat Gauss on the shoulder.

"You rascal, what's with the getup today? You quit being a hunter?"

Gauss was wearing battered gear, but he certainly didn't look like a hunter.

And having dealt with all sorts of adventurers for years, Marlin could sense that road-worn air unique to them.

Clearly, Gauss now struck him as the most common sort of low-level adventurer.

"Yeah." Gauss nodded. "I registered as an adventurer not long ago."

"Damn, I'm jealous. My family won't let me become an adventurer." When Gauss confirmed it, Marlin immediately pulled a long face.

Gauss smiled. He remembered Marlin complaining about his parents before.

Unlike Gauss, an outsider who drifted from place to place like a tumbleweed, Marlin was a native of Grayrock Town.

His parents had gone to some trouble to get him an apprenticeship at the Black Anvil Workshop.

They'd hoped that if he learned a trade, he'd become a proper blacksmith.

In this age, blacksmithing was a trade that could support a man for life.

In many people's eyes, being a blacksmith was far more respectable than being one of those low-level adventurers who traveled from place to place, risking their lives for a living.

But Marlin was a restless young man, so he naturally couldn't understand his parents' good intentions.

He was filled with longing for the adventures of adventurers, with their swords and magic. He thought that life sounded carefree: strolling through golden fields of wheat with companions, laughing, slaying monsters, earning commissions, and sampling all sorts of delicious food and fine drink at taverns in different villages and towns.

An interesting life ought to be carefree and exciting, not spent trapped in front of a little furnace like him, passing a dull lifetime with nothing but a hammer and tongs in hand.

That idea wasn't entirely wrong, but it was only partly right.

The adventurers Marlin pictured were all Professional Adventurers with a name and reputation. Their lives were naturally colorful and exciting.

But what about the vast majority of low-level adventurers? Gauss hadn't known before.

Now, though, after experiencing it firsthand, he understood that Marlin probably wouldn't enjoy that kind of adventurer's life.

There were bloody fights amid severed limbs, nights spent exposed to the elements in the wilderness, and the constant torment of insect bites. You had to watch out for threats to your life from the wilds, and face the deep loneliness that came from the unknown in the vast wilderness.

Even during the short two-day trip back from Birch Village to Grayrock Town, he'd felt it deeply.

What if an adventure lasted longer—a week, several months, half a year? That loneliness would surely grow even worse.

It was no wonder adventurers liked forming parties.

Most people would have a hard time bearing that invisible pressure that never went away.

Though a great many thoughts had flashed through Gauss's mind in that brief moment,

he had no desire to lecture Marlin or go on about what adventurer life was really like.

He merely gave him a smile that seemed to hold some deeper meaning.

"I don't think you'd like the life of an adventurer."

"Pah! You're looking down on me again, aren't you? If even you can be an adventurer, how could I possibly fail?" Marlin said, looking unconvinced.

Marlin was secretly saving money. Once he'd saved enough to buy a set of gear, he planned to officially register with the guild.

Gauss had no idea what he was thinking. He steered the conversation back to business.

"Anyway, let's stop chatting. I came to sell some spoils today. See what they're worth?"

Gauss set the large bag of equipment he'd been carrying onto a stone table with a thud.

"Let's see. Oh, wow, there's quite a lot. But I can't decide on buybacks." Marlin opened the bag and was startled by how much was inside.

The quality didn't look like anything special, but he hadn't expected Gauss to have so much equipment.

"Where'd you get all this loot? Find it lying around?" Marlin muttered, then hurried off to the back courtyard to fetch the owner of the Blacksmith Shop.

The owner of the Blacksmith Shop, Gron Bates, was a burly man well over six feet tall.

When he came out, he was still carrying a huge smithing hammer.

A dark, hardened leather apron hung over his front to protect him from flying sparks and debris. It was fastened around his waist with a wide leather belt, but couldn't hide the massive muscles in his chest and stomach.

He had short black hair and a blank expression. A black eyepatch covered his left eye, leaving only his right eye exposed, wide as a bell.

Gron Bates looked more like a powerful warrior than a blacksmith.

Many people in town guessed as much, though it had never been confirmed.

His outstanding skill in forging and smelting, however, had won the adventurers' respect.

"So it's you, Gauss."

Despite his rough appearance, Gron Bates was easy to talk to.

When Gauss had first arrived in town and was looking for temporary work, Gron had taken him in, even though he hadn't known anything about blacksmithing.

Though Gauss hadn't stayed at the Black Anvil Workshop for long, he still felt grateful to Gron Bates.

"Long time no see, Shopkeeper Gron."

"Marlin said you came to sell some spoils?" Gron Bates glanced at the various pieces of equipment on the table.

He still remembered Gauss a little. The kid had been diligent, and he'd been in good shape, too.

The only shame was that he didn't have the money to pay the tuition for a formal apprenticeship.

Gron had to treat all the workshop's employees equally. He couldn't make an exception for Gauss; it wouldn't have been fair to the other formal apprentices.

"Yeah. I salvaged them from a bunch of goblins."

"I didn't expect even you to become an adventurer." Gron sighed.

Apparently, he didn't think adventuring was a good profession either.

He'd seen far too many low-level adventurers lying dead in the wilderness.

"These really are difficult times," he sighed as he looked over the equipment on the table.

The worse times got, the more adventurers there were. In peacetime, more people would become scholars, artisans, officials, or employees.

He remembered that there hadn't been so many adventurers when he was young.

But now, in town, they made up nearly a third or even two-fifths of the population.

Even for Grayrock Town, an important stop along the routes adventurers traveled, that was too high a proportion.

"You're an adventurer who came out of our blacksmith shop, too. I'll take it upon myself to give you ten percent extra for this equipment."

"This Chopper is made of average material, but it was tempered well. It's worth 25 silver coins. Too bad it hasn't been maintained; otherwise, it could've fetched a few more."

"This Short Blade is too badly damaged to sell as a secondhand weapon. It can only be used as scrap metal for forging, so it won't be worth much."

Gron quickly appraised all the metal items on the table.

"That comes to 36 silver coins in all. How does that sound?"

Gauss thought it over for a moment. Finding nothing much wrong with the price, he nodded.

He had a rough idea of what secondhand weapons sold for, too. The Black Anvil Workshop would have to repair the goods before selling them again, so this was already a fair price.

He'd planned to sell the Chopper as well. His strength was only average, and he got tired after swinging it a few times. It wasn't suited to him.

"By the way, Shopkeeper Gron, do you know what this is?"

Gauss took the Green Stone from his pocket.

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