Guard Set

Grian slammed his hand on the table, pointed at the middle-aged blacksmith, and shouted, "In short, I wouldn't take this piece of junk even if you gave it to me! Bring me some decent equipment! And the price needs to be at least fifty percent off to compensate for my wounded heart! Otherwise, I'm going to Dughan, and we'll see if your smithy stays open much longer!"

Shawn's eyes went wide, and his jaw nearly hit the floor upon hearing this.

Damn, he should have known better than to think this old guy was so noble.

All that talk about looking out for his men? About fearing they'd get hurt? The guy was just putting on an act! The only reason he'd rattled off that whole speech was to drive the price down!

Old Grian wasn't a pushover, but was the middle-aged blacksmith any easier to deal with?

The man didn't flinch at all. He tossed his hammer onto the table, crossed his arms, and stood tall with a look of utter disdain. "Old Grian, do you think I was scared into this? If I hadn't greased the right palms, do you think I'd be running a smithy in Goldshire? Go ahead, go report me to Lord Dughan! Let's see if he still wants my annual tribute and all those taxes! Pfft, take it or leave it. If you aren't buying, get out and stop interfering with my business!"

Grian's expression shifted instantly; his furious look vanished, replaced by a fawning grin. "Heh, now, now, everything is negotiable! Look, I'm here to place a big order, surely you can give me a discount? Forty percent off, how about that?"

The moment the middle-aged blacksmith heard the words "big order," his eyes lit up. He pressed his hands onto the table, his cold, arrogant demeanor softening. His squinted eyes opened wide, glowing with interest, perfectly transitioning from single eyelids to double: "How big of an order?"

Grian immediately regained the air of a commander of the People's Militia, waving his hand with a flourish. "Five hundred sets of chainmail, five hundred two-handed greatswords, and all the matching accessories—give me the whole lot!"

The blacksmith blinked, his eyelids fluttering. "Do you even have the money?"

And just like that, Grian was looked down upon.

Yet, the man didn't get angry. Instead, he looked smug, wearing an expression that screamed "I'm loaded," and just smiled without a word.

The blacksmith understood.

This guy must have found a bunch of gullible fools with deep pockets, swindled them out of a pile of cash, and was now, for the first time ever, buying full sets of gear for his ragtag group of miserable soldiers. Three hundred soldiers, a set for each, plus spares—five hundred sets. It really was a big order!

The blacksmith didn't waste any more time. He knew Old Grian well enough to know that haggling with him was a losing game, so he made his final offer. "One price: twenty percent off! Not a word more, or you can leave! Go try somewhere else!"

The blacksmith was full of confidence.

After all, where else could he go?

His was the only smithy in Goldshire. The next closest options were Stormwind City and Lakeshire. Lakeshire was far too distant, at least a ten-day trek. And those greedy bastards in Stormwind City would only charge even more than he did. If Old Grian didn't buy from him, where else could he go?

Sure enough, Grian realized the logic as well. He figured twenty percent off was decent enough, so he slammed his hand down. "Deal!"

Then came the inspection of the goods.

The blacksmith gestured, and several apprentices brought out a pile of samples from the warehouse, laid them on the table, and began their pitch.

"The Charger Set: includes a suit of chainmail, a two-handed greatsword, and a tactical dagger. Pure iron, streamlined and practical. Add an oak shield reinforced with iron plating. One set is 10 gold, twenty percent off makes it 8 gold. Fair enough?"

"The Ironforge Warrior Set: includes a suit of chainmail, a two-handed greatsword, a tactical dagger, and an iron hammer. Crafted from a mix of iron and bronze with a touch of silver, it's heavy, practical, and offers high defense. Oh, and a wooden round shield. One set is 12 gold, twenty percent off makes it 9 gold and 60 silver. I'll even throw in a helmet—how about 10 gold total?"

"The Bronze Scout Set: includes a suit of light armor, a one-handed sword, a tactical dagger, a shortbow, and 20 fletched arrows. The light armor is bronze, the sword and dagger are refined steel, and the shortbow is made of high-quality rattan wood—light and convenient. One set is 15 gold, twenty percent off makes it 12 gold. How's that?"

The blacksmith grew more excited as he spoke, while Grian's face grew darker with every word.

He didn't even need to count on his fingers to know that if he bought these sets as described, even the cheapest option would cost 4,000 gold for 500 sets. Add in other military supplies, and 5,000 gold wouldn't even be close to enough!

Black-hearted profiteer!

However, Grian knew full well that the blacksmith's prices weren't actually unreasonable; it was just that the gear he was suggesting was too high-end for Grian to afford.

Was this guy doing this on purpose? He had to be doing this on purpose, right?

By the time the blacksmith reached the fifth set, Old Grian interrupted him with a dark face. "Five gold! Five gold per set, at most! I only want gear that costs five gold a set! Don't show me anything more expensive!"

The blacksmith, who had been in the middle of his enthusiastic pitch, cursed "cheapskate" under his breath. Feeling his interest wane, he ordered his apprentices, "Go on, go get that set that makes the least profit!"

What kind of gear made the least profit?

The kind without engravings, without fancy styling, without decorations—gear that kept only the most basic defensive functions. It was sturdy and durable, but it was ugly.

The blacksmith pointed at the gear the apprentices brought out and said listlessly, "The Guard Set. Bronze and refined iron mix. Five gold a set, I'll give it to you for four. Take it and go!"

It was a standard-issue chainmail set, custom-made years ago for the guards of Goldshire. But it had long since been phased out; no one in Goldshire wore it anymore because it was truly, hideously ugly.

But Grian was satisfied.

Shawn cast Eye of Insight and felt it was quite good as well.

For a mere piece of white-grade common gear, the armor rating actually reached 5 points, which was the limit for common equipment. One more point would have made it green-grade excellent gear. And at only 4 gold, it was far more cost-effective than those flashy, useless sets.

Grian waved his hand. "That's the one. Give me five hundred sets!"

The blacksmith nodded. "Five hundred sets, 2,000 gold. With the smithy working at full capacity and the stock we already have sitting around, I can get it all together in 10 days. Anything else?"

Grian chuckled. "Of course, of course. Now, look, I am the Sheriff of Sentinel Hill and the commander of the People's Militia, after all. I should at least get myself a decent set of gear, shouldn't I? Pick out something good, expensive, and useful for me!"

Five hundred sets of the Guard gear cost 2,000 gold. With 5,000 gold total, he'd still have 3,000 left. After buying other supplies, he'd likely have at least 1,000 gold remaining—he had to get himself something nice!