Evening had fallen when Krow returned to the courtyard.

Their host, Chaparha, was walking in the garden with Jamutaltei. They were deep in discussion, so he only nodded at them as he passed.

But Chaparha called his attention. “You’ve done well today, Krow.”

“Better than expected,” he agreed.

Chaparha studied him, surprised. “You don’t seem too caring of your loss.”

“It was not a fight I could win.” With a sword, anyway.. “I knew that going in.”

“And you accepted still?” Chaparha huffed. But waved away a response. “No matter. It shows you have a head on your shoulders at least. Unexpected, for one your age.”

Krow lifted the edges of his lips, but didn’t reply.

“A good trait for a guard. I suppose I could see why that old man hired you. If you had won…” Chaparha shook his head. “perhaps the consequences for Cerkanst would have been worse than simple rumor.”

They would?

Krow thought over the information he knew.

“We might have been accused of hiring a mercenary to settle the dispute,” Jamutaltei murmured.

…ahaha, the irony.

Technically, lady, that was basically what happened…

Krow cleared his throat. “That wouldn’t have helped the accusations of strong-arming the herb trade, I guess.”

Their host boomed out his laughter. “If Tamvost tries to say that now, anyone who saw your ignominious defeat would mock them out of town!”

Yes, yes, it was very pathetic. He’d like it if everyone stopped saying so now.

“Did things on your end go well?”

“Better than expected,” Jamutaltei echoed, wryly. She considered him for a long moment, then inclined her head. “I apologize. I didn’t realize it would come to that. It is not for the young to fight the battles of the old.”

Chaparha sighed at that, nodded.

Krow appreciated the sentiment. 

He agreed with them. But in practicality, all his near-forgotten history classes said that most wars were fought by new generations fighting for old grudges and old sins.

“I accepted a job to protect the delivery,” he shrugged. “That guy from Tamvost was being very threatening.”

Jamutaltei sighed. “You helped more than you know.”

He sent her a smile, lifted his brows. “If it is so important, then the village head should just increase my pay.”

In RP, if possible!

Chaparha snorted, chuckled. “Exactly. Boy, bleed that sour old raisin dry!”

Amusement lifted the corners of the other’s lips. “If father does not do so upon our return, then I will take it up with him.”

A few more minutes of chatting with the two elders, and they let him go wash up for dinner.

Even in a virtual world, the realism engine meant he needed a shower and bath every now and then. 

He sent his clothes to be washed – even with Allclean enchants on them, there was just something to the feel of clothes that were newly washed that was comfortable.

The armor pieces, he cleaned in the bathroom himself. When he got out, his clothes were dry and waiting for him. 

Newly showered, with clothes smelling lightly like spring, he was refreshed. He walked down the corridor, steps jauntier.

Derkhol, the one they left with Avaldan, stood outside his door, telling a story enthusiastically to Hulach and Menrike.

When they saw him, Derkhol grinned. “I got your prize!”

“My what?”

“From the tournament.” Menrike looked like she thought he got his head bashed one too many times in the fights.

“Ah, right. What is it?”

“An anvil.” Derkhol smirked and tapped the chest beside him with a booted foot. “Avaldan said I could choose, so I got you the fanciest anvil there!”

Menrike laughed. “How cheap. They couldn’t spring for at least a sword?”

So true.

An anvil?

The hell would he use that for?

Avaldan and Tetlochris were blacksmiths. They probably had enough anvils that they could toss the unused ones as cheap tournament prizes.

It could have come in handy in his last life, but not this time around.

“What does a fancy anvil look like?” Menrike wondered. “Can it still be used? My brother was given a fancy sword once, and father said it wasn’t a real sword.”

“It’s not a showpiece. Avaldan said it worked. You can check for yourself.”

“Do you have blacksmith skills?” Hulach, who’d been eyeing him, spoke for the first time. “I heard strange rumors about a masked man in black going around the town workshops.”

“I don’t know blacksmithing,” Krow knelt to see what sort of anvil was ‘fancy’. “Also, should you listen to weird rumors like that?”

“Uh-huh. How will I entertain myself, then?”

“I’m sure something will pop up.”

Menrike grinned at Hulach. “Do you know, I heard the son of the richest man in town bought a whole wardrobe from the capital for one of the daughters of the merast. Everyone was talking about it. Do you think there’s going to be a wedding soon? Such a scandal, if there isn’t, don’t you think?”

Hulach’s face blanked at the first sentence, and his eyes turned to the other two males there. 

They avoided his gaze.

Guy brought that on himself.

Krow opened the chest. His brows jumped. 

Behind him, Hulach made an indistinguishable sound.

“This isn’t an anvil.” He got over his shock, running a finger over the decorative-seeming ritual lines criss-crossing the item.

He’d only ever seen the one that Ortholian used. It was more jeweled and elaborate than the one before him, but there was no mistaking the build.

“What? Did that blacksmith cheat us? He said it was an anvil!”

Krow looked up at the herbalist. “Avaldan saw you take this, specifically this? And he said it was an anvil?”

Derkhol blinked, indignation derailed. He frowned. “Yes? I showed it to him.”

“Then we’ll say it’s an anvil.”

Derkhol stared at him, then the hunk of metal inside the chest, decorated in silver and gold. “What’s it actually, then?”

Krow’s grin split his face.

Before he could say anything, Menrike turned and her eyes blew wide. “Oh Divinities, is that an Enchanter’s Forge?”

Krow’s grin widened even more.

It definitely was.

He checked his quest page.

  [You’ve finished the quest |:Hometown Herbtown:| and ensured that Cerkanst remained in the herb trade, gaining +80 Experience Points, +3 Golden Drax, +10 Reputation Points in Rakaens, +25 Reputations Points in Cerkanst, and +1 Greater Trade Warrant Badge of the Cyzar!]

[You’ve finished the Sub-objective: Defeat Dabalt!, gaining +20 Experience Points, +15 Silver Serpens!]

[You’ve finished the Hidden Sub-objective: Win the Blacksmith Blade Competition! with 21 wins, gaining +20 Experience Points, +2 Golden Drax, +5 Reputation Points in Rakaens!]

[You’ve finished the Hidden Sub-objective: Investigate Tamvost, gaining +20 Experience Points, and +1 Reputation in Rakaens!]

[Quest Completion: S]

Wait.

S-rating?!

He checked the Quest.

[|:Hometown Herbtown:|]

[Category: Rare]

Ah, no wonder. A Rare quest. Common and Uncommon Quests go up to just A+ rating.

But where was the Enchanter’s Forge reward?

There was another quest? He noted it was more recent than the Herbtown one.

[You’ve conflicted with the Silver Phoenix Guild in the quest |:Ondarun’s Request:|, and gained +1 Enchanter’s Forge! You have gained -10 Reputation with the Silver Phoenix Guild. Due to your previous merit with the Silver Phoenix Guild, you’ve gained no enmity!]

[Quest Completion: B]

Oh.

Hah.

Silver Phoenix again?

He’d sharked something from them again? Weeping skies.

Good thing he didn’t believe in fate.

“Hey, do you know someone named Ondarun?”

Hulach answered. “He’s the merast of Tumungast Town, in the Forest near the foothills. Why do you ask?”

“I heard something earlier, when I was looking for information about Tamvost.”

The other eyed him. “The badge thing, Derkhol was just telling me, was Dabalt wanting the trade warrant back.”

Krow frowned. “Why’d they not deliver it with the contract?”

Inefficient.

“The imitation wasn’t finished yet.”

Krow nodded, contemplative. “You told someone?”

Hulach snorted, grinned. “Of course, who do you think I am? I told everyone who would listen. Tamvost’s reputation, by this time tomorrow, will be lower than the mire.”

Krow laughed. Hulach was awesome.