Vio let out a loud yawn and rubbed at her bleary eyes, feeling the consequences of spending yet another long night on her studies. She honestly would have liked to still be sleeping in, taking advantage of being a member of House Cordis without direct responsibilities, but when her niece had requested her presence, then she couldn't very well turn her down now. Besides, there was an annoying nagging pounding in her head, like her [Detect] was trying to let her know about something. But no matter how many casts she had performed, the source of it remained frustratingly elusive.

  Though maybe again, she was just imagining it all. It wasn't impossible with how sleep-deprived she was.

  The door swung open and two mercenaries exited the office that her niece was using. The acolyte started almost fully awake at the sight of them, almost gaping at the sight of the best armor and arms she'd ever seen even during her brief stint at Magia. When they stepped past, that annoying feeling pinged again and Vio frowned, considering stopping the two and using [Detect] on them.

  But there was a stronger tug on that sense coming from within the office now, so she let them go with only a polite nod. Now fully awake, Vio stepped into the room and her eyes nearly fell out of their sockets at the power that radiated from the mysterious parts laying out on the desk. "Ah, Lady Vio. I wanted to ask you about-"

  "What are those?!" she breathed, all sort of tiredness and exhaustion vanishing in the moment. She wished so much she remembered to bring her staff from her room to properly examine. "They feel so powerful! The magic in them, it's so potent!"

  "Oh, they have magic in them?" Petula looked at the new parts with more appreciation in her eyes now. "I had a feeling, but I wasn't very sure."

  "Neither was I until I was this close!" Vio's mind whirred, trying to recall those musty lessons on [Detect]'s specifications. "That means it's powerful yet refined, so much so! Its grade, is it maybe past the one hundreds? No, at least the one-fifties!"

  The duke's daughter blinked and stared. "Aunt, it's been a while since a master has passed by to officially grade our equipment. But isn't that way stronger than the rank of father's armor?"

  "It is, his was estimated to be around the one hundreds. And that family plate is considered to be one of our line's greatest treasures." The older woman placed her hand against the material and shuddered, feeling the energies. "Could these have been [Infuse]? Perhaps, but by how much…?"

  "I don't know, I literally asked for you to help me out with this and about some history."

  "I-I'm sorry dear, but I'm just an acolyte. I'm not a grandmaster who could likely be sure, my power isn't quite much. I'll try my best to help though."

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  While Kuch and Mordred started their meteoric rise in the eyes of House Cordis, I myself sat back in my workshop and played around with my new craft materials like I was a child with new toys. Or an adult with new toys, really.

  Joan, get your head out the gutter.

  Right, spider silk. I have a plentiful supply and so long as we don't kill the broodmother and wipe out the colony afterwards, Frie should be able to go and harvest more for me. Which meant that if I so wanted, I could make cloth entirely out of the silk for that perfect feel!

  No time like the present to try it out. Let's use [Weave] and make some bolts of silk made from it. I'll also need to soak them in my collection of dyes to have a vast array of colors to work with.

  Silk Cloth ((Item Quality: 246) (Infuse Level: 335)

  Excellent, fantastic rolls that made it so that this fabric would probably make for half-decent spellcasting robes. They might even have enough innate resistance to stop the average mercenary sword from the empire, assuming that Gunther's sword met the criteria. He had mentioned the Eber Marauders did used to have better, but most had been broken over time since arriving to take contracts in Gabion. Serious wear and tear did seem to be a big issue with these low quality crafts.

  Meanwhile, I'm pretty sure Mordred has never once had to sharpen her lance.

  While my new silk cloth colored, I decided to actually check on something I'd mostly neglected since making my porcelain clones. I still did have a few bird scouts left in all the cardinal directions but the east, and I mostly just let them settle and nest in once the winter had hit. They hadn't really moved since spring came, acting mostly as just eyes to warn me ahead of time about any happenings.

  Let's see. To the south, my bird was mainly just watching the large lake that then fed out into the ocean. Nothing going on there, but I'd love to reach the ocean. Saltwater could be boiled and turned into that incredible sea salt, which should catapult my cuisine by leaps and bounds. And that was before even considering all the possible ocean critters for further creations.

  My bird in the north nested where the forest met the mountain, and it was going to stay that way to be on the lookout for if that crimson dragon ever came back. I haven't seen any sign of that though, and I'd advise them to stay away. Come back and I'll sic my adventurers on you, we'll see how you like that. Though Mordred definitely needed way more than three skills to achieve that.

  Now, to check my bird to the west-

  And I realized that construct there was...swallowed? Enveloped? Wrapped in something that looked like pretty thick bark. Huh, did they get noticed and taken by some sort of carnivorous tree? I could feel the energy of the wind crystal actually being gently drained, seeping into whatever held it captive. What an...interesting development.

  Before, I think I would've said terrifying and freaked out. But now that I was more established, more setup, and with some others I could count upon now, I was coolly analyzing and thinking things through. Let's see, I think it's safe to write off that bird scout as likely being destroyed. But I could sense where it was: a little past the deep forest, just about the same distance to the abandoning mining town. Frie could probably make the trip even.

  But I would be left defenseless and wholly relying upon my manor's newly installed tricks then.

  I considered whether or not it would be worth the risk. Maybe if Kuch and Mordred came back and stuck around for a bit for whatever reason, I could be more comfortable with the idea. Checking it out would also probably be far less of a commitment than excavating Bedra's body up in the mountains, so it was maybe worth a shot.

  So I'll put it on my to-do list sometime later.

  In the meantime, it looks like my dyes are complete. So too have Kuch and Mordred properly rested, and are on their way to check out the blacksmiths. How do you do, fellow crafters?

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  Mordred nearly gagged when she entered the sweltering forge. "It reeks in here! When was the last time anybody here washed in here?"

  "Probably not for a while," Hans, our apparently assigned escort for this visit, mentioned to her. "They've been working all hours of the day, and then some more. I don't think they've been able to get more than a few hours of rest and sleep ever since the tide during last winter."

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "Have to, we've got an insane quota to reach," grunted the closest worker, an elven smith. They shoved their current work piece into a roaring forge at the center of the entire smithy and turned to face us, glancing at Hans. "So then, these are the mercenaries who impressed House Cordis? I'm the forge manager, what do you want? Need to sharpen or fix your weapons?"

  "Never have, never will," drawled the dragon, earning a scowl from the elf blacksmith. "We're also adventurers, not mercenaries."

  "Look, it doesn't matter what you call yourselves or what you think, you're always going to have to maintain your weapon! Your poor lance, I bet it's all dulled and chipped by now-" Their eyes finally landed on Heart-Piercer on Mordred's back and they recoiled, jaw dropping. "Wha- what in Ironhammer's name is that!"

  It took a moment for me to remember that was the name of Ironfist as a divine now. Still weird. Also, right, I forgot that solarium had a pretty distinct look. That was a big mistake on my part, especially when the exclamation drew the attention of the other sweating workers in the blacksmith. Mordred glanced my way and after a moment of though, I shrugged.

  I wouldn't exactly tell them all the secrets of what I used to make the raid weapon, but as fellow crafters, it would be a disrespect for me to forbid them from at least looking upon the possible peaks before.

  The forge manager hurriedly called for a break so that all the blacksmiths could pause their works and come over to have a look. For their benefit, Mordred took out her lance and held it out, keeping a firm grip with a single hand and glaring pointedly at anybody who got a little too touchy with her weapon. There were quite a few who needed that warning, but I could hardly blame them between their gasps of awe and violent cursing.

  "Gods above, what is that lance head made out of?"

  "It gleams so sharply, like it's never once lost its edge since the day it left the forge!"

  "Look past the head, look at that shaft! Is that bone? Teeth?"

  "Fang," Mordred quietly clarified, a half-truth that had them whispering. "It was made by somebody I owe a great debt to for my gear."

  It was then that those eyes now moved onto her armor and the reactions started back up. At least they had the sense than to try and feel up the scale armor while somebody was clearly wearing them. It was actually interesting in a way, to see these people ogle and appreciate the armor instead of Mordred's own form.

  "Those scales, they're gorgeous," the forge manager commented with a light in their eyes that hadn't been there before. "But I don't think that does it justice. Your entire attire, it's a splendid piece of work. I could stare at it all day, wondering what it's made of and how it was forged so. I need to know who made this!"

  "They go by the name of Noel," I answered, feeling Kuch smirk. "They're a sibling of sorts to me."

  "Of sorts?" Mordred muttered darkly. "Try being literal twins, or is it triplets now?"

  Her comment went unnoticed when all the smiths turned to swarm me instead this time. All of them, wishing to be introduced and maybe taking apprenticeships under me- well, Noel. But I held out my hand, forestalling their inquiries. "For the moment, they are uninterested in recruiting apprentices."

  They visibly deflated, casting longing looks at Mordred's gear as she put away that lance. But I could see it in them when they shuffled back to their workstations and picked up back their tools; it had inspired them, to see what was possible should they continue this path towards ultimate mastery. It felt good for me.

  However, when I looked at their works, I frowned beneath the helmet. There were a lot of issues in all of their crafts, from how dull the glow was to how some just looked awfully way too thin. I glanced at the forge and had my answer- there was only the smallest bed of charcoal at the center to at least bring the temperature to the minimum needed to process iron.

  But the rest was fueled by firewood, which was not ideal. Thankfully, thanks to my little lie, I had good reason to ask them about all this. "I have picked up on a few things from watching Noel work. Shouldn't you be using only charcoal instead of wood?"

  "You noticed, huh? We'd like too, but firewood's barely affordable," the forge manager grunted out while they worked. "Making charcoal takes a lot of it even, and you don't get much back. So it's expensive."

  "There's no forests in Gabion's territories so, like grain, we've had to import," Hans mentioned, humming in thought. "Of course, beyond the wall there's an endless forest that should supply us forever if we could obtain it. But we don't dare venture out to collect any, not when the tide could come at any time or the very dangerous wild beasts on the prowl. And not all mercenaries have experience as lumberjacks."

  So that explained why why they couldn't process the iron properly, they didn't have the luxury of blasting it at the necessary temperatures to mold it freely like I could. Shaping it then was going to be more akin to just damaging into shape, and there would be a lot of impurities that weakened the overall structure of everything.

  That explained part of the lackluster quality. The other, I noticed from their very small pile of unrefined ore. This wasn't very good quality iron, even by ordinary standards. Maybe just an iota of the material in every chunk, to the point where there was more filler than not. I'd honestly rather not even bother turning iron of this quality into weapons and make them non-essential crafts like hinges and nails.

  Bad raw materials, bad processing methods, bad result. It wouldn't matter how skilled the crafter could be, you were only going to make things that probably couldn't even beat the launch content of FLOW. At which point, quantity was going to be one's only quality.

  I noticed then that next to the small pile of ore, there was a crate filled to the brim with broken sword shards. Several containers full of them, in fact. Ah, I guess this was them actually being rather smart and economical with what little they had. They obviously couldn't recover every shattered weapon but whatever they could get could still be smelted back down and then reforged into another sword. Of course it would likely still break and crumble without any further processing, but that was just what they made do.

  Among these pieces were actually some promising chunks that, were I to combined together, could amount to something perhaps. But I'd have to take a lot of them. "What would be the price be for purchasing some of these broken weapons?" I asked aloud. "Are these off-limits?"

  The forge manager paused their work and glanced my way. "Hm, the broken weapons? We have so many of them that we could probably part with a crate or two and still be fine, quota-wise. Is that really what you want though?"

  "It is," I insisted. "And I'll take the ones that haven't yet been given [Infuse], please."

  "Wait, really? You sure about that?"

  "Positive. There's some...ancient knowledge I want to test."

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