Chapter 215: The Eccentric Young crafter (2)

The soot-faced young man snorted suddenly.

It was not a quiet sound either. It was full of open disdain.

"Hmph. Another arrogant young lord who thinks he can have everything he wants... like the whole world owes him something."

Elion’s eyebrow twitched.

By all rights, the guy had been whispering to himself.

Or at least he probably thought he had.

Unfortunately for him, they were standing barely a few steps apart, and Elion’s senses were sharp enough to hear every word clearly.

Elion slowly opened one eye.

"...Aren’t you being a bit rude?" he said calmly.

The young crafter looked up.

Elion continued in a relaxed tone.

"I simply asked a question."

He shrugged lightly.

"If you’re going to make baseless assumptions about people you’ve never met, then you’re the arrogant one here."

The soot-covered man glared at him.

Elion, however, simply closed his eyes again and waved a hand dismissively.

"Well."

He turned around.

"If you have no business here, I’ll be on my way."

He began walking toward the entrance.

"I’m sure I can find someone better."

He was just about to step outside—When suddenly, quick footsteps rushed across the floor behind him.

Then something grabbed his ankle.

Elion froze.

"...The fuck?"

He looked down.

The soot-faced crafter had literally thrown himself onto the ground and was now clinging to Elion’s leg.

"WAIT!" the young voice cried out.

The tone had completely changed.

Gone was the arrogant annoyance from earlier. Now the voice sounded panicked and strangely... desperate.

Elion stared down at him.

"Uh..."

The crafter looked up awkwardly, still holding onto Elion’s ankle.

"I’m sorry for being rude just now..."

Then his stomach growled loudly.

GRRRRRR...

Both of them paused.

The young crafter coughed awkwardly.

"Uhm... you see..."

He rubbed the back of his head nervously.

"I’m in a bit of a bind right now."

Elion crossed his arms and looked down at him.

The crafter continued sheepishly.

"I... uh... haven’t had any work for weeks."

"So I haven’t made any coin lately."

He looked away slightly, embarrassed.

"...Which means I haven’t eaten in days."

His stomach growled again, and Elion could have sworn this guy blushed under that black soot covering his face.

[...]

He looked back up with a small pleading expression.

"Please ignore what I said earlier!"

Then he quickly added.

"So... what did you need from me?"

Elion stared at him for a moment.

Then he sighed.

’Is this guy an idiot...’

he thought honestly.

[...]

He sighed and stepped back into the messy workshop.

The young crafter immediately jumped to his feet, nearly tripping over a pile of metal scraps in the process.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" he said quickly, bowing several times in a row. "I swear I won’t waste your time!"

Elion raised a hand. "Relax."

The crafter straightened awkwardly.

Then Elion pointed at his face.

"You know you have soot covering your entire face, right?"

The young man froze. "...What?"

"Your face," Elion repeated calmly. "It’s completely black."

There was a short silence.

Then—

"AAAAH!" He spun around and ran toward a small door at the back of the workshop. "WAIT HERE!"

The door slammed shut behind him.

Elion blinked. "...O...kay."

He stood there alone for a few minutes, listening to the faint sounds of water splashing somewhere behind the door.

A bucket falling. More splashing.

Then, finally, the door opened again.

The young guy stepped back into the room, wiping water off his face with a cloth.

His short white hair was completely wet now, the strands clinging to his head and dripping water down his neck.

Now that the soot was gone...

Elion could finally see his face clearly. He stared on in shock

...’ What?’

The young crafter blinked back at him.

Elion narrowed his eyes slightly.

’This guy...’

He wasn’t handsome. If anything— He looked cute!

His facial features were incredibly soft. Smooth skin, a delicate jawline, long eyelashes, and lips that were almost too neat for a guy.

His eyes were large and bright, giving him a strangely gentle expression. Compared to most men, Elion had met...

His face looked almost feminine. His features looked softer than most women Elion had met!

In fact—

It would probably be more accurate to call him a femboy. Elion stared for another second.

’The fuck...’

The poor guy rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

"Uh... is something wrong?"

Elion cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away for a moment, pushing the strange thought out of his mind.

"Nothing," he said. "Let’s just talk about the sword."

The young crafter nodded quickly and grabbed a small notepad from a nearby workbench that was half buried under metal scraps.

"So," he said, trying to sound professional, "what kind of sword are you looking for?"

Elion thought about it for a moment.

"I want an uncommon grade one-handed longsword," he said. "Not too heavy. Preferably thinner than a standard longsword. Something balanced. I want it to be quick in the hand."

Oliver nodded while scribbling something down.

"Thin blade... one-handed... uncommon grade..." He glanced up again. "Anything else?"

"The material should be durable," Elion said simply. "I’ll be using it in the tournament and of course, it should last long afterwards."

Oliver stopped writing and looked at him more seriously now.

"...Academy tournament?"

"Yeah."

He let out a small whistle. "Well... that explains the urgency."

He flipped the notebook closed.

"For something like that, my price would normally be fifteen silver coins."

Elion didn’t even hesitate. "That’s fine."

He reached into his pocket and counted out the coins before handing them over.

Oliver’s eyes widened slightly when he saw the silver pieces. He clearly hadn’t expected the payment to come so easily.

"Ah... thank you," he said quickly, pocketing the coins.

Then he added, "One more thing, though."

Elion raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Oliver scratched his cheek.

"What kind of metal do you want me to use?"

Elion frowned slightly. "Isn’t that included?"

"Well..." Oliver said slowly. "If you want something basic like good steel, then yes."

He held up a finger.

"But if you want something light and durable, like mithril, then that will cost extra."

"How much?"

"Five more silver."

Elion shrugged. "Alright." He placed the additional coins on the workbench.

Oliver looked genuinely shocked now.

"Uh... are you sure?"

"Yes."

Elion turned toward the door.

"Well then," he said, waving lightly over his shoulder, "good luck with the crafting."

He was about to leave when he paused. "Oh."

He looked back.

"What’s your name?"

The young crafter straightened slightly.

"My name is Olivi—" He stopped abruptly. Then he corrected himself quickly. "...Oliver."

Elion stared at him for a second.

"...Right."

Something was amiss, but he didn’t comment on it.

"I’m Elion," he said.

Oliver nodded.

"Nice meeting you Elion."

Elion then asked, "When should I expect the sword?"

Oliver thought for a moment.

"Well... if I manage to get mithril tonight, I can start immediately. In that case, the sword should be ready tomorrow evening."

"And if you can’t?"

Oliver shrugged.

"Then I’ll have to check the Merchant’s Guild in the morning to see if they have mithril in stock."

He gestured toward the furnace.

"After that, I’ll start crafting."

Elion nodded. "That works."

He stepped outside the workshop. "See you tomorrow then."

Oliver waved from inside the messy shack. "See you tomorrow!"

The door closed behind Elion as he headed back into the lantern-lit streets of the city. With that settled, he did not linger in the busy streets; he made his way back to the academy to call it a night.