The rhythmic clang of metal striking metal echoed long before Freddy reached the forge. Sparks burst in small showers from the open forge, painting flickers of orange across the narrow street. Even from outside, the air carried a dry wave of heat, thick with the smell of burning coal and hot steel.
After receiving his repaired gears from Ellie, Freddy bid her fair well, and hurried towards the Forge. Promising to return for the contracted gears the next day.
As Freddy stepped inside, an intense wave of heat assaulted him from all directions.
Jorn's Smithy wasn't large, but it felt alive. Tools hung on every wall—hammers, tongs, chisels—vibrating softly from the constant impact of Jorn's hammer. The blacksmith himself was a mountain of a man, bald head gleaming with sweat as he worked a glowing piece of iron on the anvil.
"Boss! You made it!" a voice called out, excitement bubbling in it.
Arriving even earlier than Freddy, Willy was already waiting beside a rack of unfinished weapons, waving as soon as he spotted Freddy.
Freddy nodded and approached him. "Yeah. Let's finish our business here before heading to the tavern."
Willy's eyes drifted briefly to the glowing forge. "Man… this place feels like we stepped into an oven."
"To be fair, it is an oven," Freddy replied dryly.
Their conversation was interrupted by a loud grunt from behind the anvil.
"You two here for repairs or forging?" Jorn boomed without looking up, hammer still pounding in steady rhythm. "If you are here for repair then welcome, if not get lost."
"Sorry to bother you, but I like you to help me inspect this trouser piece," Freddy replied. "Took a hit from a certain oversized pork monster."
Jorn paused mid-swing, raising his head for the first time since they entered. "Ah. So you're the lad who killed the Hog King." His gaze swept over Freddy, assessing him with new interest. "Didn't think the rumors were true, you really are young."
Freddy only shrugged.
Willy leaned in and whispered, "Boss… we're rumors now."
"Apparently."
Jorn chuckled, gesturing to a heavy wooden table. "Throw your gear there. I'll take a look."
Freddy did so, taking the chainmail trousers off and placing it down. Jorn began inspecting them carefully, muttering under his breath about bite marks and shoddy metallurgy.
While he worked, Freddy opened his inventory and withdrew all the boss loot.
He handed over the one intended for Willy—the necklace and his share of the coins.
"You earned these. Get yourself proper Level 5 cleric gear before we meet up again," Freddy said, handing him the Warthog Totem Necklace and his share of the silver.
"The boss dropped a few items, but most of them leaned towards melee, so I'm keeping them and I'll compensate you later, how about that?" Freddy spoke while revealing all the loot.
However, Willy didn't seem to care about it, eagerly examining the necklace in his hands.
"Boss, this is rare gear! Are you sure I can have this?" Willy's eyes nearly sparkled as he asked.
"Just keep it, I'm already taking advantage of you. Get yourself some gears and meet me back at the tavern." Freddy said, at the same time returning the rest of the loot to his inventory.
"Alright got it." Willy replied and left the forge.
The chainmail rang with a metallic clang as Jorn lifted it.
"The damage isn't much so this won't take long," the blacksmith declared. "Give me a minute."
Freddy nodded and leaned back against a tool rack, letting the heat wash over him. His thoughts drifted to Ellie… her trembling voice… that hidden embroidery… the mention of Old Garth.
Thirty percent of the quest filled.
He needed more answers.
And that meant heading to the tavern after this.
As the forge crackled and Jorn resumed hammering, Freddy had no idea that the next place he was headed was about to throw him into a completely different kind of trouble.
As he waited for the repair, Freddy took out the Hog King's Crest and clicked to use it immediately.
Ding!
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System Notification:
Player's Reputation +50
Player has been granted the title Beast Slayer
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Freddy's reputation immediately increased by 50 point, at the same time he also equipped the 'beast slayer' title.
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Title: Beast Slayer [Equipped]
Effects: Increases damage dealt to beast type creatures by 20%, Damage from beast type creatures and reduced by 10%.
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'Great, with these title grinding levels in the Verdant Glen Forest would be a lot easier. I'll keep the rest for when I reach level 10.'
With that thought in mind, Jorn finished the final strike with a sharp, ringing clang that cut through the forge's heat. The chainmail trousers now looked almost new—polished links, tightened rings, the ugly bite marks smoothed out with expert precision.
"There," Jorn grunted, tossing the cooled piece onto the table. "Stronger than before. Should hold up unless you go pokin' another oversized beast in the eye."
Freddy equipped the repaired chainmail. At the same time looking at the stats.
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Chainmail cuisse [common rank]
Type: Trousers
Level: 5
Class requirement: Swordsman, Berserker.
Requirements: Strength 10
Defense +12, Strength +5, Endurance +3
Durability: 50/50
-----------------------------------------
'Defense +10→ +12, Endurance +2→+3 and durability increased by 10'.
"Thanks," Freddy said, dropping the payment on the counter.
After taking a moment to gather himself, he stepped back into the street heading for the tavern.
---
Standing in front of a building made from wood, Freddy gazed at the words 'Buttoms Up Tavern' on a plaque and smiled wryly.
'No wonder that townfolk said I can miss it, even a blind person wouldn't miss this place' he thought.
Buttons Up Tavern was already loud from the outside. A muddle of laughter, shouting, and clinking mugs spilled out through the windows. The air reeked of strong alcohol.
"Let's ask around for old Garth, someone's gotta know where he is.' he thought
As Freddy approached the tavern door however,
BOOM!
Something—no, someone—shot through the doorway like a launched boulder.
Thanks to his reflexes, Freddy sidestepped in time avoiding a head on collision with the figure.
WHAM!
The man crashed into the dirt outside, rolling twice before coming to a groaning stop.
Freddy blinked. "…You've got to be kidding me."
He had barely entered the tavern and someone had almost knocked him down.
Glancing back to look at the person,the face buried in the dirt slowly lifted.
Wrinkled. Bleary-eyed. Nose red with habitual drinking.
An old man looked back at him.
The old man sputtered, wiped his face, and tried to stand, only to wobble sideways and fell.
Standing at the doorway, another man who seemed to be responsible for throwing the old man out earlier stood—hands crossed.
Freddy ignoring them wanted to head inside, but the man's next words made him stop in his track.
"Don't let me see you near this tavern again old Garth, not until you pay up the dept you owe."