After leaving the inn, Paul walked eastward. As they moved through the city, he asked, "Do you think anyone here can make this?" while lightly patting the spatial bag slung at his side.
Renya, now wearing a hooded coat that partially covered her face, replied calmly, "Seems possible." She walked a few steps behind him and added, "At the very least, the shop owner should have enough experience," while thoughtfully resting her finger against her chin.
Paul gave a small nod as they continued walking.
After passing through several streets, they arrived at the blacksmith district. Paul reached into his spatial bag and discreetly retrieved a sample part—carved wood that Renya had carefully shaved earlier.
He held it up and said, "Let's try this one," as he stepped into a luxurious weapon shop.
After stepping up to one of the sales clerks who had just finished assisting another customer, Paul held out the carved part and asked, "Can you make this? In iron, of course."
The clerk examined the piece briefly before bowing slightly. "Ah, I'm sorry, sir. We don't take custom orders for weapons," he said apologetically. "This shop only sells completed swords."
"I see," Paul replied with a nod. "Alright then. Thank you."
He turned and left the shop without further hesitation.
After checking several other stores, Paul's eyes were finally drawn to one with a more intriguing sign:
Molten Marks – Custom Weapons and Special Orders.
He stepped inside with Renya close behind.
The shop interior was quiet, oddly empty—no clerk or receptionist in sight—but the constant clang of metal striking metal echoed from deeper within, likely from the forge behind the shopfront.
Paul stood for a moment, glancing around the space. "Strange. No one here at the front?" he muttered.
After glancing around and confirming that the shopfront was truly empty, Paul raised his voice and called out, "Excuse me! Is anyone here?!"
Three minutes passed with no response.
Frustrated, Paul slapped the counter with moderate force and shouted again. The sudden impact triggered a loud clang clang clang from the back room—followed by an angry voice yelling, "AAHHH! FAILED AGAIN!!"
Moments later, the back door banged open, and a burly, broad-shouldered old man stormed into the room. His thick arms were streaked with soot, his leather apron scorched at the edges, and his skin still radiated heat from the forge.
"God dammit! Where's that useless boy?!" he barked, clearly agitated. Then, spotting Paul at the counter, he narrowed his eyes and growled,
"What is it?! Speak up! I've got orders backed up to next week!"
Hearing the gruff tone, Paul scratched his head awkwardly and said,
"Yeah... I want you to make this," while handing over a folded piece of paper. On it was a detailed sketch of a mechanical component, carefully labeled and dimensioned, meant to be made from iron.
The old blacksmith's scowl softened slightly as he unfolded the paper and examined the drawing. His eyes scanned the lines with surprising sharpness, and for a moment, there was only the sound of metal still clinking faintly from the forge room behind.
"What material are you planning to use?" he asked in a more serious, focused tone.
Paul blinked and replied,
"Well... just normal stuff. Iron, of course," his voice tinged with confusion, as if the answer was obvious.
The grandfather let out a long sigh and shook his head.
"Hey, kid. If all you want is plain iron work, you're in the wrong shop," he said firmly, crossing his arms.
Pointing north, the old man barked,
"Go to the Northfield area!" His tone was firm, almost like a command.
"Plenty of forges there for everyday work. The kind of stuff you're asking for—they can handle it, and the prices are reasonable for each design," he added, locking eyes with Paul.
"Got it?"
Paul nodded awkwardly, unsure whether to speak or just get out of the way.
Seeing Paul's nod, the blacksmith waved him off and shouted,
"Then get going! Don't WASTE MY FORGING TIME!" before storming back through the door and slamming it shut behind him.
A moment later, the rhythmic clanging of metal on metal resumed—clang, clang, clang—echoing from the workshop beyond.
Paul stared at the closed door, a little stunned, before glancing at Renya.
She just shrugged and said dryly,
"What did you expect? Come on..."
Then she turned and began walking north. Paul sighed and followed behind her in silence.
After heading north toward the Northfield area, Paul and Renya passed the Alchemist Guild and several small potion shops lined along the road. As they neared the edge of the district, close to the northern gate, they found a row of blacksmiths—most dealing in everyday tools, farming equipment, and basic weaponry.
Spotting a shop that looked decently maintained, with a sturdy wooden sign and a clean storefront, Paul walked inside.
A bell above the door gave a soft ring as they entered.
"Welcome," the clerk greeted with a polite nod as Paul approached the counter.
Without wasting time, Paul reached into his pocket, pulled out the folded piece of paper, and placed it on the counter.
"Can you make this?" he asked, sliding the paper over.
After examining the drawing, the clerk's eyes widened slightly. He then called out toward the back of the room, raising his voice, "Boss! We've got a special order!"
From behind a thick leather curtain, the sound of tools being set down echoed before a middle-aged man stepped out, scratching his head with his right hand as he walked forward.
"Yeah, yeah... what is it this time?" he muttered casually.
He approached the counter and gave Paul and Renya a quick look, then broke into a friendly grin.
"Well now—boy, and miss," he said with a nod, spreading his arms wide in a welcoming gesture. "Name's Hardy. Welcome to Hardy's Metal Goods."
After the brief introduction, he rested his hands on the counter and leaned in slightly, looking at Paul with a curious gleam in his eyes.
"So then... boy," he said, still smiling, "what brings you to my humble forge?"
Hearing that, Paul simply gave a small nod and pointed toward the paper still held by the clerk.
Seeing the gesture, Hardy blinked, then gave a slightly awkward chuckle. "Oh, this is it..." he muttered, taking the paper from his clerk. "Sorry, sorry... didn't realize it was already in front of me," he added, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
Paul gave another nod, staying quiet.
Hardy studied the diagram for a few moments before asking, "So then—how many of these components do you need?"
Paul looked at him calmly and replied, "How many can you make in a day?" His tone was direct, serious.
Hearing that, Hardy raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Interesting… Let's see…" he murmured, holding his chin in one hand as he studied the details more closely, eyes narrowing in thought.