Ice Partner and Peaceful Days: A Banished Summoner's Life with a Lone Knight - The workshop's first customer

The early summer sun poured white over the cobblestone streets. In front of his workshop, Glen wrung out the cloth in his hands. The cold water seeped into the scars on his fingers. He reached up to the signboard and carefully wiped away the thin layer of dust that had settled on the wooden frame. The words "Iron Hammer and Engraving"—carved just last night—stood out sharply in the morning light. The workshop door stood open, and from within drifted the faint scent of old wood and metal. He'd spent the night checking his material inventory and tending to his tools, finishing nearly at dawn. Yet, strangely, he felt no fatigue. If anything, a quiet warmth seemed to radiate from his core, a premonition that something was beginning. The Living Knight stood motionless against the far wall of the workshop. Its dark blue heavy armor showed its outline dimly in the half-light. It said nothing. But Glen understood that its silence was its way of watching over him. "Well then, what's on the agenda today?" He murmured the words and tossed the wrung-out cloth into the bucket. From the direction of the morning market came the shouts of merchants and the rumble of cart wheels. The town of Heldain was bustling with life today as always. But on this street, removed from the southeastern city walls, the clamor felt distant, and a more leisurely flow of time prevailed. Glen re-hung the sign and stepped back to check if it was straight. Not bad. He let out a small breath. That was when it happened. He saw a man approaching from down the street. An older man, his short, gray-streaked hair swept back neatly, his mustache and beard well-trimmed. His eyes, the color of dried grass, held a gentle light. He leaned on a cane in his right hand, but his stride was firm. Beneath his right eye were two old scars. Glen recognized him. Dolg Heinen, head of the Heldain branch of the Trevark Adventurers' Mutual Aid Society. In the ninety years since the Society was established in this town, he had been its face, supporting adventurers for a long time. There were even rumors that he had been an A-rank adventurer in his active days. Now, he oversaw more than four hundred registered adventurers. "Ah, Glen. My apologies for imposing on you so early in the morning." Dolg stopped in front of Glen and looked up at the workshop sign with keen interest. "Iron Hammer and Engraving, is it? A fine name. There used to be a small smithy around here long ago. I had them shoe my horse many a time." "Good morning, Mr. Dolg. Please, come in. It's a bit of a mess, I'm afraid." Glen gave a slight bow and led him inside. As Dolg stepped into the workshop, he slowly surveyed the shelves of materials and the numerous tools hanging on the walls. Branches of magic-conducting wood were bundled by type, and jars of powdered magic stone were lined up with labels. Half-finished staffs, roughly carved, and prototypes with detailed engravings were also neatly arranged. "Ho... this is quite a professional setup you have here." Dolg let out an impressed breath and glanced briefly at the Living Knight against the wall. But he said nothing. "I can't say yet if it'll be a viable business." Glen gave a wry smile and offered him the chair in front of the workbench. "Well, please, have a seat for now." Dolg sat down as invited and gently placed his cane on the workbench with both hands. It was a staff of polished ebony. Wind magic stone powder was sealed in its core, and its surface was densely carved with fine magical engravings. It was a seasoned piece, clearly showing years of heavy use. "As you know, I retired from active duty long ago. But, appearances aside, I still go out to the frontier regions a few times a year to see how things are. I use magic for self-defense, you see." Dolg continued in a calm voice, gently stroking the staff. "For the past few months, I've felt the mana transmission efficiency has been dropping. Even when I fire a wind arrow, it disperses faster than before. I wondered if my magic power was weakening with age... but it seems the cause lies with the staff." Glen picked up the staff and carefully examined its surface. "May I examine it a bit?" "Of course. I've known of your skill since your time with the Society." Dolg nodded deeply. Glen immediately took a crystal plate from his toolbox. It was a palm-sized, transparent plate—a measuring instrument that visualized mana flow. Next to it, he set out a set of engraving needles and a fine file. "First, please channel a little of your magic through it. Just lightly." Dolg held his hand over the tip of the staff and uttered a short incantation. Pale blue wind magic shimmered on the staff's surface, tracing fine ripples on the crystal plate. Glen watched the crystal plate's reaction intently, then magnified the engraved part of the staff with a loupe. "...I see." "What is it?" "The surface of the engravings is considerably worn. Wind magic has weak convergence, so even a slight chip in the engraving causes an immediate drop in transmission efficiency. Fortunately, the internal core material and the ebony itself are still perfectly usable. If I recarve the surface patterns and apply new engravings, it should return to its original efficiency." Dolg narrowed his eyes and let out an admiring breath. "You can discern all that? Impressive. Another craftsman would have told me to replace the entire core." "I'm not fond of needlessly expensive solutions either. The fee will be fifteen silver coins, and... I'll need about three days, if that's acceptable." Glen's voice was matter-of-fact, but his estimate held a quiet confidence. Dolg's face broke into a smile. "Fifteen silver coins? That's so reasonable it makes me worry for you. With your skill, you could easily charge eighty." "Well, you are my first customer." "I'm your first customer? I'm honored." Dolg's smile deepened, and he placed his hands on his knees. Then, his expression sobered slightly. "Glen, the truth is, I didn't come here today just for the staff adjustment." Glen waited silently for his next words. "As head of the Society's branch, I can't intervene in the internal affairs of individual parties. I want you to understand that I was officially hands-off regarding Zex's notice of your dismissal." Dolg's voice wasn't preachy. It was simply the tone of someone explaining the facts honestly. "However—and this is purely my personal, private feeling—I believe your skills are something this town of Heldain needs. I like to think I know how earnestly you've honed your craft. So." He lowered his gray-streaked eyebrows slightly and smiled gently. "Don't rush. Just keep at it. There will always be someone who needs a staff made by you." There was no authority in his words, no condescension. Just the warm, quiet weight of an elder celebrating a young person's new beginning. After a few seconds of silence, Glen answered briefly. "...Thank you." The words of gratitude were short, but they were enough for Dolg. "Well then, I'll leave the staff with you. I look forward to seeing it in three days." Dolg stood and gave Glen a light pat on the shoulder. A large hand. Its warmth seeped through the fabric. After he left the workshop, the room suddenly fell quiet. For a while, Glen just stared at the ebony staff resting on the workbench. Dolg Heinen. The face of the Society, a man of character whom the town's adventurers affectionately called "Pops." The fact that he personally valued Glen's skill—that realization seemed to sink warmly into his chest. (*Don't rush, huh?*) Glen let out a small sigh. "Well, whatever." He murmured his habitual phrase and carefully placed the staff on the rack. --- As the late morning light began to intensify, Glen visited the stone building of the Mutual Aid Society. The hall was the very picture of morning bustle. Nearly fifty adventurers were milling about as they pleased, looking at the request forms posted on the walls or conferring with their comrades. Several figures stood before the bulletin board, searching for their desired requests, sometimes reaching out as if to snatch them away. The Adventurer System. Established in various countries of Valtura, this framework began in the wake of a great disaster 120 years ago known as the Ash Flood. A massive outbreak of magical beasts had destroyed several cities, and the existing regular armies could no longer cope. The nations created this system to broadly recruit fighters from the private sector. Since then, adventurers registered with the Society, ranked by examination and achievement, hunt monsters that threaten citizens' lives and fulfill various requests. Ranks ranged from E to S, seven tiers in total. D-rank and below accounted for seventy percent of all adventurers, most making a living through steady work like sewer cleaning, herb gathering, and city patrols. B-rank was the mark of a first-rate adventurer, placing one in the top twelve percent. Only upon reaching this rank could one participate in quests to the deeper levels of nearby dungeons or the subjugation of highly dangerous magical beasts. The Crimson Fang belonged to that B-rank and was a well-known party even in the Heldain branch. The leader, Zex, a magic swordsman. Mireille, an earth mage. Gald, a heavy warrior. And Glen, the summoner. Centered around Zex, their offensive cornerstone, Mireille provided long-range support while Gald held the front line. Glen's role was to further solidify the foundation of their defense. His Living Armor was different from ordinary summoned creatures. It was a focused-type summoning, concentrating all his magic power on a single entity over fifteen years. Common sense for summoners was to control three to five entities simultaneously, controlling the battlefield with numbers. Glen's method was considered inefficient and was disregarded even in academic circles. But as a result, his Living Armor had already evolved into a Living Knight. It could completely block enemy attacks with its shield and freeze the surroundings with ice magic to hinder movement. That power of defense and control had supported Zex's reckless firepower tactics from the shadows. But Zex had never understood that. Glen shook his head lightly, banishing the thoughts. He stopped in front of the bulletin board and skimmed the bundle of requests. E-rank city patrols and sewer cleaning, D-rank material gathering and low-level monster subjugation. From among them, he picked up a single piece of parchment. *'Gathering moonlight grass at the Nile River Valley. Quantity: 15 stalks. D-rank. Reward: 4 silver coins. Deadline: 5 days.'* Moonlight grass was an ingredient for potions granting night vision. The gathering itself was simple, but the valley was frequented by E to D-rank monsters, making solo work risky. It was a request most ordinary D-rank adventurers would avoid, but for Glen, it was rather convenient. He could work with the Living Knight in a deserted valley, without anyone's eyes on him. "This should do." He headed for the reception desk. A young woman he knew well was sitting at the counter. A freckled girl with her chestnut hair tied back. "Good morning, Glen. Are you alone today?" "Yes. I'd like to take this request." Glen handed over the request form. The receptionist checked the parchment and frowned slightly. "A D-rank moonlight grass gathering, I see. Goblin sightings have been increasing in that valley lately. Will you be alright alone? The Society recommends participating in a party for..." She trailed off. She probably knew that Glen had been expelled from the Crimson Fang just days ago. "It's fine. I'm used to it." Glen said it gently and offered a small smile. The receptionist said nothing more and stamped the request form with her approval. --- The Nile River Valley was about twelve kilometers northeast of Heldain. A walk of roughly two hou

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Episode 2

Name: Ice Partner and Peaceful Days: A Banished Summoner's Life with a Lone Knight
Author: Novelia

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