The noble's carriage turned out to be a false alarm. It belonged to a merchant who had heard about Greg's "revolutionary farming equipment" and wanted to talk about making a lot of it. Greg politely turned him down five times before the man finally gave up.
It was easier to deal with the three adventurers because they only wanted basic camping gear. However, Greg made sure to keep any magic to a minimum after the dancing vest incident. He had just finished a very normal set of tent stakes when someone knocked on the door of his workshop with the pommel of a sword. Not banging or hammering, but a precise, steady knock that showed military training and discipline.
Greg opened the door and saw a woman who looked like she had come straight out of a story. She was probably in her late twenties. She stood tall with her blonde hair tied back in a useful ponytail.
She wore simple clothes for traveling that couldn't hide the fact that she had been training with weapons for years. She had a broken sword at her hip, making Greg know what was coming after the introduction.
"Are you Greg Greyson, the blacksmith?" Her voice was calm and steady, with a hint of an accent that Greg couldn't quite place.
"That's me," Greg said.
"Let me guess, you want me to fix your sword."
The woman's lips curled up into a small smile. "Perceptive. Yes, I was hoping you could fix or reforge this blade."
"It's been with me for eight years, and I'd rather not have to replace it." She drew the broken sword and held it as if it were a close friend.
"I'm Lylia Goldenwind, and I used to be a member of the Royal Knight Order."
"Formerly?" Greg asked reluctantly, despite his desire to remain silent.
"I quit three months ago because I was tired of politics and war." Lylia looked at the broken blade with a hint of regret.
"This happened on my last mission. A rock troll that wouldn't give up and a commanding officer who wouldn't let us wait for backup."
At least Greg could understand that feeling. He looked at the broken sword. The craftsmanship was good, but not great. It was clear that it had been well cared for and valued. It was a clean break, so he could probably fix it if he wanted to.
And of course. He didn't want to.
Greg gave the sword back and said, "I don't fix weapons. Or do them."
"I quit that job myself."
Lylia's eyebrows went up a little. "The famous blacksmith who won't work with weapons."
"I'd heard the rumors, but I thought they were probably blown out of proportion." She looked at him with sharp golden eyes.
"Can I ask why?"
Greg said, "It's a long story."
"The short version is that I spent my whole last life making weapons, saw people dying because of that, and then I was done."
"But now I make cursed clothes that make people dance, as well as exotic farming tools and cookware."
"I heard about that vest," Lylia said, and for the first time, her face showed real amusement.
"Everyone in the area is talking about it. Some nobles are even trying to get similar things made for their ballrooms."
Greg made a noise of pain. "Please tell me you're kidding."
"I wish I could. There's a bidding war." Lylia put her broken sword away and crossed her arms.
"But back to my problem. What do you think I should do if you won't fix my blade?"
"I still need something to protect myself. Just because I'm retired doesn't mean the world is suddenly safe."
Greg took a moment to think. She made a good point, and unlike the adventurers who came looking for weapons to make money or gain fame, Lylia seemed to be really practical about it. He thought that was cool. But he still wasn't making her a sword.
Greg asked, "What do you think about cooking tools?"
Lylia blinked. "Excuse me, what?"
"Really, I made a frying pan that can kill wyverns."
"One of my customers killed a young wyvern with one hit." Greg walked back into his workshop and motioned for her to follow.
"I can help you with that if you need something for self-defense that isn't really a weapon."
"You want me, a former Royal Knight, to defend myself with cookware." Lylia's voice was flat, but Greg could tell she was curious.
"Not just pots and pans. I'm thinking of something that can do more." Greg took out a piece of iron and some oak wood.
"How about a ladle? A big one that can hold enough stew for a whole family. It's strong, useful, and definitely not a weapon."
"A ladle," Lylia said again slowly.
Greg said, "A very good ladle."
"Okay, I'll make it for you right now. If you don't like it, you can take it to another blacksmith to fix your sword. Deal?"
Lylia looked like she was torn between disbelief and laughter. She finally agreed. "Okay."
"Make me your famous ladle, but I have the right to laugh if this is stupid."
Greg muttered, "Oh, it'll be stupid alright," as he turned on his forge.
"That's how they always are."
...
..
He worked quickly, making the iron into a wide bowl with a long, strong handle. He thought about what Lylia needed as he hit the metal with his hammer.
She wanted something to protect her, something that could stop attacks and maybe scare off attackers without killing them. She was retired and wanted to live in peace, but the world didn't always let her.
The spells came easily. Of course, durability. The weight was lowered to make it easy to use. She mentioned that magic was sometimes problematic in her old job, so perhaps something could be done to address that issue.
The runes were all over the metal in patterns that looked like steam rising from a pot. Greg tried to keep them low-key, but by now he knew better than to fight the system's tendency to make things sound bigger than they are.
[Crafting Complete!]
[Item Created: Magical Dispersion Ladle]
[Quality Level: SSS]
[Special Properties: Can't be broken, can block and absorb magic, sends spells back to sender with 50% power, and is great for serving soup]
[Achievement Unlocked: Master of Home Defense]
[Note: This is getting strange even for you]
"Yea, yea, yeah," Greg said, showing off the finished ladle.
The forge light made it shine, and the bowl was big enough to hold a lot of stew. The handle was long enough for a short staff. The metal had a faint blue sheen that wasn't normal at all.
Lylia took the ladle and tested its weight and balance like someone who had used many weapons before. She opened her eyes a little. "This is very well-balanced. The work is also excellent."
Greg said, "Try it against something magical."
"We could ask the mage in the village to cast a spell on it. He owes me a favor."
"Or," Lylia said, putting the ladle down and taking a small crystal out of her pocket, "we could use this practice ward."
"It's not dangerous, but it will be a good test."
She turned on the crystal, and a glowing wall appeared between them. Thereafter, she tapped the barrier lightly with the bowl of the ladle.
The barrier broke apart like glass, and the magical energy flowed into the ladle, spiraled around its surface, and then shot back at the crystal. The crystal broke and went dark.
"That was a ward crystal for the military," Lylia said in a low voice.
"Those are supposed to be able to handle magic from cannons."
Greg asked nervously, "Is that good or bad?"
"Good if you're using the ladle. Terrifying if you're on the receiving end." Lylia looked at the utensil in her hand with something like awe.
"This isn't just anti-magic. This is a magical black hole that looks like serving ware."
"So you like it?"
Lylia laughed, and it was a real laugh that changed her serious face. "Do you like it? you say. Greg, this is crazy, impractical, and goes against every rule I know for weapons."
"It's perfect." She held the ladle like a warrior looking at a new sword.
"I can defend myself without carrying a real weapon. People will think I'm weak, but I can still use it for what it's meant for."
Greg stressed, "Which is serving soup."
"Which is serving soup," Lylia said with a smile.
"Though I think that if I hit someone with this, they would have a terrible day."
[New Achievement: Turned a Warrior into a Cookware Combat]
[Title Unlocked: The Peaceful Armorer]
[Lylia Silverwind is now much more popular]
[The gods are writing down ideas for future romantic comedies]
Greg decided to ignore that last message. "So we're all set? You're okay with a ladle instead of a sword repair?"
"More than happy." Lylia put the ladle in her belt, where her sword usually hung. It looked silly, but she somehow made it work.
"That does make me wonder. If all your things are so powerful and strange, why stay in a small village like Ferndale? You could make a lot of money in the capital."
Greg simply said, "Because the capital would want weapons."
"People here want plows and pots for cooking. That's exactly what I'm looking for."
Lylia nodded slowly, and her face showed that she understood. "A life of peace after years of violence."
"I can relate to that." She looked around the workshop and saw the tools and half-finished projects. "I was going to go through Ferndale on my way to the coast, but I think I'll stay for a while."
"This village could use someone with combat experience, even if it's just as a retiree. I'm also interested in seeing what other 'peaceful' things you make."
"You're staying?" Greg wasn't sure what to think about that. Having a former Royal Knight around could bring in the wrong kind of people.
Lylia's face twisted into a smile. "If the village has me, I have savings and can help with security, training the local militia, and that sort of thing."
"Someone should probably watch you, though. Who knows what trouble you'll cause next if you give out dragon-slaying pots and pans and magical ladles to anyone who asks?"
"I don't make things worse," Greg said.
"I make useful things that have side effects that I didn't expect."
"That's just chaos with more steps," Lylia said as she walked to the door and stopped.
"Thanks, Greg, for not treating me like just another soldier looking for a better weapon. And for making something that lets me stay retired without being helpless."
...
...
Greg sat down at his workbench and looked at his hands after she left. A magical ladle had brought an ex-Royal Knight to Ferndale.
Greg still had a line of people waiting for commissions tomorrow. His new life was getting less and less peaceful, and for some reason, soup ladles and farming tools were to blame.
[Quest Complete: Make Cookware That Doesn't Work]
[Reward: 4 Skill Points, Recipe: Cutlery of Chaos]
[New Quest Available: Handle Your Growing Fame]
[Warning: More interesting people are on their way to you]
"I should have become a baker," Greg said quietly, but he was already thinking about the jobs he had to do tomorrow. He might be able to get that opera-singing broom to work after all.