"No problem. How is the recruitment of blacksmiths coming along?" Karl asked as he replied to Bennie, who was finishing his food with a satisfied smile. The older man looked perfectly content with his meal, which made Karl wonder if he had even been paying attention to the conversation. Bennie, however, had clearly been thinking about the subject, because he immediately put down his utensils and answered. "Well, there are plenty of smiths willing to come and make arrowheads for us."
Their arrow workshops had an incredible demand for arrowheads, far more than Karl would have expected before they started producing them. With modern technology no longer being readily available outside the tech cities, there was simply no practical way to mass-produce arrowheads. Every single one had to be made by hand, which meant that the workshops could absorb an enormous number of blacksmiths without running out of work for them. That made the Crimson Sun Guild an incredibly attractive destination for anyone who wanted to enter the profession and improve their blacksmithing skills.
The biggest problem for aspiring blacksmiths was not finding people willing to teach them, but finding someone willing to let them practice. No master smith wanted an inexperienced apprentice hammering away at swords and armor when every mistake could destroy expensive materials. The cost of training someone could become enormous before the apprentice was capable of producing anything valuable enough to repay that investment. Blacksmithing was therefore an incredibly popular profession, yet the number of available apprentice positions was nowhere near large enough to satisfy the demand.
That situation changed rather dramatically when the Crimson Sun Guild appeared and practically begged people to come to their city and make arrowheads. Suddenly, apprentices had access to a steady supply of materials that they could actually afford to work with, and the guild would never run out of demand for their products. Arrowheads taught many of the fundamental skills a blacksmith needed, while mistakes were considerably less expensive than ruining a sword or a piece of armor. As a result, people began arriving in droves to apply for positions in the guild's workshops.
There was another reason why the work was so attractive, and that was the sheer demand for arrows. Arrows were consumables, and with the next Guardian Trial always somewhere on the horizon, their prices rarely fell below a certain point. Whenever the price did begin to drop, the major players immediately bought as many arrows as they could get their hands on because they knew they would eventually need them. The constant demand made arrow production one of the safer ways for a new blacksmith to practice their craft while still producing something that had genuine value.
The army had made the situation even better for the Crimson Sun Guild. They wanted a million arrows from the guild every month, partly because training soldiers with arrows was considerably cheaper than training them with bullets. A single arrow could potentially be reused a thousand times if it was only being fired during ordinary training exercises. Unfortunately, the army had spent decades developing the habit of stockpiling ammunition, and those habits had not disappeared simply because bullets were no longer the obvious choice.
"So, yes, we have plenty of people willing to come," Bennie continued, "but we have a problem with retaining them." His expression became slightly sad as he explained that most of the blacksmiths eventually returned to their hometowns to establish their own businesses. Others left for the blacksmith capital of Europe, and perhaps the world, because they wanted to study their craft further. The Crimson Sun Guild was becoming something of a training ground for blacksmiths, which was useful, but it also meant that many of the talented people eventually moved on.
"Even our family's blacksmith and his mother are currently there," Bennie added. They had gone to the blacksmith capital to learn better techniques, because the environment there was simply unmatched. In that city, a person could practically throw a stone and hit someone capable of producing a common piece of equipment. Outside that region, however, weapons and armor of that quality were surprisingly rare, because only properly qualified weapons could reliably reach common rarity.
A common weapon had a fairly straightforward definition among blacksmiths. A sword had to be capable of being used regularly for around five years without suffering serious problems, provided its owner properly maintained it. That might not sound particularly impressive to someone who had grown up before mana changed the world, but achieving that level of quality by hand was considerably more difficult than it appeared. A single hidden defect could prevent a weapon from meeting the standard, and even the System's knowledge could not completely replace proper instruction and experience.
"That means the barrier to entry is actually quite high," Bennie said. "Even if the System pushes all kinds of knowledge into someone's head, that does not mean they suddenly have the practical experience needed to produce a flawless sword." Karl nodded at that assessment, because it was one of the strange limitations of the new world. Knowledge could be acquired far more easily than before, but turning that knowledge into reliable craftsmanship still required practice. That was precisely why the blacksmith capital remained so important.
"Hey, what did you expect?" Karl asked with a shrug. "It isn't as though we have the culture for that kind of demand." Their own family simply did not require that many metal goods. The main things they regularly needed were knives and arrowheads, while almost everything else could be produced from other materials or was unnecessary for their way of life.
Their armor was a perfect example. Even when the family bothered wearing armor, it was generally made from leather rather than metal. Chainmail was considered far too loud for their profession, and a ranger who sounded like a collection of metal scraps whenever they moved through a forest was not exactly going to be effective at hiding. Their entire fighting style revolved around remaining unseen, moving quietly, and striking before their opponent even understood where the attack had come from.
"Yes, that is true," Bennie admitted, "but we do create a lot of goodwill with the blacksmiths." That was something he considered equally important, even if the family rarely had a direct reason to make use of it. Whenever a talented blacksmith passed through their workshops, the family could provide a recommendation letter and send them toward a specific master in the blacksmith capital. The fact that none of their recommended apprentices had been rejected by those masters was a strong indication that the family was doing something right.
Karl gave a small nod. "Yes, goodwill is always useful, even if we are most likely never going to need it." Their family was not exactly short on connections, and their growing city was becoming an increasingly important economic center in its own right. Still, Karl understood that goodwill was not something that should be treated as worthless simply because it was unlikely to be needed immediately. In the new world, circumstances could change incredibly quickly.
The conversation might have continued, but Karl suddenly glanced toward the television. "Turn on the TV. The Pope should be giving his speech and magic trick soon." His expression became more interested as he remembered what was supposed to happen. "I wonder if he really is going to send his troops into the United States."
Karl found that proposal incredibly unlikely. Sending troops into the United States would be an extraordinarily provocative move, especially when the country was already unstable and the major players within it were extremely protective of their remaining influence. Even if they had neglected their own people, there was one thing they would never tolerate: someone else coming along and taking control of the things they had discarded. Calling those discarded things their toys would have been an accurate description of the situation.
"Sure," Bennie replied as he looked toward the television. "Has a week really gone by that quickly? That's unbelievable." He wiped his hands, stood up, and walked into the communal living room beside the dining area. The television had become one of the easiest ways for the family to keep track of what was happening outside their forest, especially now that so much of the world was changing at an absurd pace.
Bennie picked up the remote and switched the television on. The screen immediately came alive with the live broadcast, and the atmosphere in the room shifted as they realized that the ceremony was about to begin. Karl leaned forward slightly, his earlier thoughts about blacksmiths already pushed aside by curiosity about what the Pope intended to demonstrate. After all, they were about to witness something that had previously existed only in theory.
"I am especially interested in seeing an actual teleportation circle," Bennie said, his eyes fixed on the screen. The two men settled down to watch, waiting for the broadcast to begin. Whatever happened next, it was going to be another demonstration of how dramatically the world had changed since mana had arrived. For once, even Karl had no idea what kind of spectacle they were about to see.