The gods' guess was off by exactly one day. A carriage with the royal seal rolled into Ferndale on the fourth morning after they had warned them. It was far too fancy for the village's dirt roads. It was all polished wood and gold trim, and it was pulled by horses that probably cost more than most houses in the area.
Greg watched from the window of his workshop as the carriage stopped in the square. A coachman in formal dress opened the door, and a woman who looked like winter came out. Tall and slender, she had long silver hair that hung straight past her shoulders. Her robes, which were obviously very expensive and fit her perfectly, were all white with blue accents.
Her pale blue eyes stood out the most. They looked like they were judging everything with cold calculation. Ice crystals literally floated around her, showing off her magical power in a way that made some villagers back away nervously.
"Fuck me," Greg muttered.
The woman looked at the village with an expression that showed she didn't like it very much, as if she'd stepped in something awful. She looked at the small buildings, the dirt roads, and the simple people going about their daily lives before finally stopping at Lylia's Kitchen, where a line was already forming for lunch.
Greg watched her walk up to the restaurant, talk to Lylia for a moment, and then turn to look right at his workshop. Greg could feel the weight of her analytical stare even from this far away.
"Who wouldn't guess? She's definitely here for me," Greg said, already accepting whatever complicated situation was about to happen.
Three sharp knocks on his door that were precise. Greg opened the door and saw the ice mage standing there with two guards who looked uncomfortable in the summer heat.
"Are you the one whose name was Greg Greyson?" Her voice was formal, and her accent made it sound like she had gone to a fancy academy.
"I am Seraphine Frostwhisper, the Royal Mage of the Third Circle and a researcher for the Kingdom's Magical Artifacts Division."
"I came to look into reports of several SSS-ranked items showing up in this area."
"Right. Of course, a rumor of your friendly neighborhood blacksmith has spread wide like a virus, huh?" Greg said as he leaned against the doorframe.
"Let me guess, you want to take them away to study or something?"
One eyebrow of Seraphine's perfect composure went up. "Take away?"
"No. I'm here to meet the creator. The kingdom's magical sensors have picked up at least seven SSS-ranked items within ten miles of this village in the last month." She pulled out a crystal that shone with different colors of light.
"That much activity could mean a dungeon break, a divine intervention, or the presence of an ancient artifact smith."
"Or maybe he's just a really good worker, have you thought about that?" Greg said sarcastically.
"SSS-ranked items don't just show up because someone is 'good at their job.'" Seraphine said, sounding like she was talking to a child.
"They need either centuries of masterwork crafting, a divine blessing, or access to lost ancient techniques."
"The fact that you've made seven in less than a month means you're either a god of smithing who has come back to life, or you have a legendary artifact that makes you stronger."
Greg blinked. "That's a lot of guesses based on some nice pots and pans."
"Cookware?" Seraphine's tone stressed that she didn't like jokes.
"I've looked over the reports."
"A farming hoe that makes small earthquakes. A frying pan that can stop dragon fire. A ladle that can take in and change magic."
"These aren't just kitchen tools, Mr. Greyson. These are weapons that look like everyday things."
Greg said firmly, "When you look at their design, obviously, they're not weapons, but tools for daily life things, get it?"
"Just because people use them for self-defense doesn't mean they're weapons. That's like saying a hammer is a weapon just because you could hit someone with it."
Seraphine opened her mouth to argue, but then she stopped. "That's a philosophically intriguing point, but it doesn't get to the heart of the matter. How are you making these things?"
Greg shrugged and said, "I create items that are of high quality and designed to last longer. It's not my fault if the system thinks they're legendary."
Seraphine's eyes narrowed. "The system?"
"Oh, shit..." Greg realized what he just said, he blurted out 'system' so clearly that it was too late for him to take it back.
"That would explain the quality being the same, but not the crazy power levels. Most crafters only make B- or A-rank items, even with a divine system."
"Getting an SSS rank should be almost impossible without special materials or rituals."
"Yeah, well, I don't do rituals. I just work like I used to do," Greg said as he went back to his workshop.
"Go ahead and watch me make something if you want to, but I'm not going to sit here and answer questions like I've done something wrong."
Seraphine went inside with him, and her guards stayed at the door. She looked around the small workshop with clear doubt, taking in the simple forge, the basic tools, and the messy workbench.
"This is it? No magical circles? No enchantment arrays? No rare material storage?" She picked up a hammer from the bench and looked at it.
"This is just a normal hammer for blacksmithing."
"Yes." Greg was already getting the tools he needed to make a butter knife for the village chief.
"What did you think you would find? A glowing altar made of dragon bones?"
"Yes, to be honest." Seraphine put the hammer down carefully. "Every master craftsman I've looked at had many tools."
"Ancient forges blessed by fire spirits, hammers passed down through generations, sacred anvils struck by lightning. You don't have any of that."
Greg said, "I don't need it," as he heated his forge.
"I have skills, materials, and a system that likes to mess with me. That's all I need." Since he blurted out "system," he might as well have said the whole thing.
He began to shape the metal into a butter knife, a task he was accustomed to. While he worked, he started to hum an old song about a blacksmith and his daughter from his past life. It helped him concentrate and kept his hands still.
For a few minutes, Seraphine watched in silence, and her analytical look slowly turned to confusion. "You're working and singing at the same time."
Greg said, "It helps me focus," without looking up.
"But this is artifact crafting. It takes a lot of focus, precise magical control, and careful attention to runic alignment." Seraphine moved closer.
"You should be saying spells or at least being completely quiet."
Greg kept humming, and his hammer hit the metal in time with the music. "Should I?" he asked. The runes started to show up like they always do, making beautiful patterns across the blade of the butter knife.
"You're not even consciously directing the enchantments!" Seraphine's voice got a little louder, and she finally lost her cool.
"Your intent and the rhythm of your work are making them happen on their own. That shouldn't be possible without decades of practice binding your will to your craft."
"Had decades of practice in my last life," Greg said without thinking, then realized what he'd just said. "Uh, never mind what I said."
But Seraphine was too busy with the butter knife to see. The runes were growing, and the small blade was covered in intricate patterns that glowed softly. "What is it doing? What are you adding to it?"
Greg said, "I just want it to spread butter smoothly without tearing the bread."
"Maybe stay sharp longer than usual. Nothing special."
[Crafting Complete!
[Item Created: Knife for Perfect Spreading]
[Quality Rank: SSS]
[Special Features: Can't be broken, spreads any substance perfectly, never needs sharpening, and warms up cold butter a little bit]
[Achievement: Your Butter Knives Are Even Famous]
[This is getting embarrassing]
Greg held up the knife he had just finished, and it shone with an almost otherworldly light. "Look, it's just a butter knife."
Seraphine's hands shook as she took the knife, and her calm demeanor was gone. "This is a masterwork. You've made a legendary tool for spreading butter."
Greg said, "Better than making swords."
"But why?" Seraphine looked at him with real confusion.
"With your skills, you could make weapons that would scare kingdoms, armor that could stop dragon claws, and magical items that could change the course of wars."
"Why waste your skills on pots and pans and butter knives?"
Greg put down his hammer and looked her in the eye. "Because I've already made those weapons."
"I spent forty years doing it and watching people die because of what I made. I'm done with that life. If I'm going to make legendary items now, they're going to be things that help people live, not things that help them kill."
Seraphine said right away, "That's crazy," but her voice didn't sound sure.
"Use power for power's sake. Making weapons for the kingdom would make you rich, give you status, and keep you safe."
Greg finished by saying, "And send me right back to the life I died escaping."
"No thanks. I'd rather make silly pots and pans in a small village than be the capital's weapons dealer."
For a long time, Seraphine didn't say anything. She turned the butter knife over in her hands. The ice crystals around her had stopped moving and were now in a calm pattern. "You really mean that."
"You'd rather be unknown and at peace than famous and strong."
Greg said, "Every single day of the week."
Seraphine said, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," but she smiled a little.
"Most people would do anything to have your skills and the fame they would bring."
"Most people haven't seen their work cause wars," Greg said in a low voice.
The ice mage's cold, analytical gaze gave way to a more thoughtful one. "The reports said you were strange. They didn't say you had morals."
"Is that going to be a problem? Are you here to take me back to the capital?"
Seraphine straightened her robes and said, "I'm here to study the anomaly."
This likely means that I will learn about you and your ideas for creating peaceful artifacts. The kingdom will want a full report."
"Great. More attention," Greg said under his breath.
"But," Seraphine said, "I don't see why we should rush that report. It takes time to do thorough research."
"I'll need to watch you work, talk to your clients, and fully understand what your methods mean." She put the butter knife in her robe.
"I'll be living in the village for now."
"Of course you will," Greg said, but he could tell she was more interested than angry now. "Let me guess, you want a room at the inn?"
"Already taken care of. The village chief was very helpful when I told him I was here for work." Seraphine walked to the door and then stopped.
"What song were you humming?"
Greg said, "It's just an old song about a blacksmith and his daughter."
"It was nice," Seraphine said, almost against her will.
"Maybe you could show me how to do it sometime. For research purposes, of course."
Greg sat down at his workbench and looked at the ceiling after she left. A Royal Knight who became a chef, an adventurer with cookware that could kill dragons, and now a kingdom researcher who was supposed to be studying him but seemed more interested in his anti-weapon philosophy.
Greg's peaceful life was getting crowded with intriguingwomen, and he didn't know how he felt about it. "What's the next worst thing that could happen?"
[Quest Update: Take Care of Your Growing Reputation]
[New goal: Don't let the ice mage learn too much too soon]
[Extra goal: Teach her how to hum your song]
[The gods are having a great time]
Greg said to the system, "I fucking hate all of you," but he couldn't help but smile a little.
Even though things were hard, it was nice to have people who understood, or at least tried to understand, why he had made this choice. One of them was a stuck-up ice mage who probably thought it was unprofessional to sing while working.