Ice Partner and Peaceful Days: A Banished Summoner's Life with a Lone Knight - Custom-Made Staff and Shield of Farewell

Morning sunlight streamed through the workshop window. The late-summer light was transparent, etching every tiny scratch on the workbench into sharp relief. Against the wall, the Living Knight stood motionless as always. Across the surface of its dark blue armor, the morning light quietly dissolved. Glen opened his ledger and checked the day's schedule. Dolg's staff had been delivered without issue. The core material for Alisa's new staff was settling in smoothly. The oak staff entrusted to him by Mireille needed only a little more adjustment before it was finished. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the clamor of the tavern the night before. The three from the Bluebird, apparently, had been loudly embellishing the tale of the battle at the frozen lake. Glen gave a wry smile. He hadn't done anything remarkable. He had simply fulfilled his role. (*Well, no matter.*) He set down his quill and stretched his arms. The old chair let out a small creak. That was when it happened. *Knock, knock, knock.* Three raps. The intervals were even, the sound suggesting a meticulous personality. "It's open." Glen looked up, and the door opened quietly. Standing in the doorway was a tall man. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties. A well-kept, deep-green robe fit his slender frame perfectly. His ash-brown hair, trimmed neatly at the shoulders, was slightly tousled by the wind. What drew the eye most of all was the small badge gleaming on his left chest. Silverwork shaped like the wind — a mark worn only by B-rank wind mages recognized by the Mutual Aid Guild. The man surveyed the room, his gaze pausing for just a moment on the Living Knight against the wall. His narrow eyes widened slightly. But he immediately returned his attention to Glen and smiled warmly. "Forgive the intrusion. This is *Iron Hammer and Engraving*, I trust? I was referred here by Branch Chief Dolg of the Guild." His voice was a clear, resonant baritone. Calm, yet with an approachable warmth. "Yes, that's right. I'm Glen." Glen rose from his chair and gave a slight bow. "I'm Klaus. A wind mage. I've come today to commission a custom staff." So saying, Klaus carefully drew the staff from his waist with both hands. It was a common, mass-produced model. Standard oak construction, with a wind magic stone embedded in the tip. It showed signs of use, but the surface bore no conspicuous damage, hinting at its owner's careful nature. "This is the staff I use now. It's not bad. But when it truly counts—" He broke off, frowning slightly as if finding the words difficult. "My primary skill is called 'Wind Walk.' Have you heard of it?" Glen nodded. A high-speed movement skill using wind magic. When activated, it allowed the user not only to evade enemy attacks but to dominate the battlefield itself. Its tactical value was immense. However, it had a drawback. "It consumes a tremendous amount of mana. With this staff, three consecutive uses is my limit. When I try to activate it a fourth time, the transmission efficiency drops sharply." Klaus twirled the staff lightly and sighed. "To be honest, I've been in a few tight spots because of it. I went around to various weapon shops and magic tool stores, hoping something could be done. But nowhere had a solution." "And that's what brought you here?" "Yes. The owner of 'Petra's Shelf' told me. If I was going to challenge the depths of the Kragen Mines, I should go to you." Glen was a little surprised. Petra was the shrewd proprietress of a magic tool shop in town. She was something of a business rival, but perhaps, in her own way, she had acknowledged Glen's skill. "I see. Well then, first, let me measure your mana." Glen pulled a large crystal plate from a drawer in his workbench. The surface was polished to a mirror sheen, and the back was etched with complex mana circuits. He placed the plate in the center of the bench and motioned for Klaus to hold his hand over it. "Please try channeling your mana into it slowly, while holding your staff." Klaus nodded and tightened his grip on the staff. In an instant, a pale blue light raced across the crystal plate. Geometric patterns surfaced, and numerical values appeared one after another. Mana flow rate, attribute wavelength, transmission efficiency, attenuation rate— Glen's eyes tracked the numbers as he assembled an analysis in his head. (*Specialized in the wind attribute. Mana capacity is B-rank equivalent. But this mass-produced staff can't fully utilize all of his power.*) The problem was clear. Klaus's mana flowed quickly and vibrated in fine waves. This was a common trait among wind mages. However, the mana conduit in this mass-produced oak staff was too broad. It was like trying to force a large volume of water through a thin wire. Friction increased, and efficiency dropped. Glen put away the crystal plate and offered Klaus a chair. "From what I've observed, your mana's power comes not from its volume, but from the velocity of its current." "Ah, you saw that clearly. Yes, that's it. My magic seems to have its quirks compared to other wind mages." "In that case, this oak is a little too heavy for you. A lighter material with a finer mana conduit would suit your power better." Glen walked to the material shelf against the wall and picked up several pieces of wood. From among them, he selected a branch with a white, smooth bark and returned to the workbench. "This is a magical birch tree. It's light, and its mana channels are fine. I believe it's a perfect match for a user of high-speed mana like yourself." Klaus stared intently at the birch branch. "Furthermore, I have one more suggestion." Glen picked up a thin metal rod — an engraving needle — and began tracing a complex pattern on the crystal plate as if sketching. "Normally, a wind magic stone is used as the core material for a wind staff. But in your case, I think it's better to deliberately *not* use one." "Not use a wind magic stone?" "Yes. Instead, I propose applying a special engraving to the surface. A unique pattern designed to reduce air resistance. This will allow the staff itself to slice through the wind, curbing mana consumption. The principle is: with the same mana, you can go farther and faster." Klaus was silent for a moment, staring at the pattern drawn on the crystal plate. Finally, a smile broke across his face. "I see. ...This is remarkable. I can see now why Branch Chief Dolg recommended you." He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. "This is... this is what I've been waiting for. Everywhere I went, it was just 'I'll sell you the best mass-produced one we have.' There was never a craftsman who would think from the ground up, tailoring the work to my mana." Then, he turned back to Glen, his eyes serious. "Can I ask you to do this? I absolutely need this staff for the deep-layer survey of the Kragen Mines." "Of course. It will take about seven days for delivery, if that's acceptable." "Yes, that's fine. And the fee?" "It will be two hundred silver coins. That includes the birch material and the labor for the engraving." Glen spoke quietly as he noted the amount in his ledger. A standard mass-produced staff cost around forty silver coins, so this was roughly five times the price. But Klaus showed no sign of surprise. "That seems reasonable. Just looking at you, I can tell it will be work worth that value." He stood and extended his hand to Glen. "I look forward to it, Glen." Glen also stood and clasped the offered hand. "Likewise. I'll make a fine staff that lives up to your expectations." Klaus left the workshop with a radiant expression. Even after the door closed, his footsteps could be heard for a while. Glen sat down before his workbench and picked up the birch branch. (*Now, then.*) This was a job worth doing. To face a client's mana with sincerity and seek out the optimal form. It was, in a way, similar to when he had provided combat support for his party long ago. Only now, this was his way of fighting. Several hours passed. Glen worked silently, applying his knife to the birch branch, carefully shaving away the excess bark. A pleasant *snick, snick* sound echoed. The Living Knight did not move, as if quietly watching over the work. —*Clatter.* Suddenly, the door was thrown open violently. There had been no knock. Glen looked up. Standing in the doorway was a familiar man. But his appearance was terribly painful to behold. Thick bandages were wrapped in layers from his left shoulder down to his chest. It was likely a wound from corrosive magic; a faint, strange odor drifted from beneath the wrappings. The leader of Crimson Fang, the magic swordsman Zex. His once-confident, rugged features were now gaunt beyond recognition. His cheeks were hollow, and deep shadows ringed his eyes. Even his close-cropped red hair was unkempt and shaggy. For a moment, he stared back and forth between Glen and the Living Knight. Then, he forced out a voice. "...Glen." "Hey, Zex. It's been a while." Glen stopped his hands and placed the knife on the workbench. He showed neither surprise nor anger. He simply gazed quietly at his former leader with calm, gray eyes. Zex took a step into the room. He glanced at the Living Knight against the wall and averted his eyes. "So this is your workshop. It's a nice place." "Thank you. So, what brings you here today? With that wound, you can't be going out on quests yet." Zex's face twisted in anguish. "...I heard. About what happened at the frozen lake. They say you froze the entire lake, enemies and all, with your Living Knight. And with a D-rank party, no less." "Ah. That was a coincidence. It was just a good match between the enemy's water jets and this guy's shield." Glen gently brushed away the wood shavings scattered on his workbench. "...Glen." Zex stepped closer, one step, then another. His gait was heavy, betraying the immense weight he was carrying. "Please. Come back to the party." He bowed his head. The proud leader who had once banished Glen with a notice of combat ineffectiveness. "We were beaten by the Gray Bear. It was my mistake. With just Gald and Mireille, we can't hold the front line. No matter how much firepower I put out, without the defense and disruption to let it through, we can't—" "—You're right, Zex." Glen's voice was perfectly gentle. "Just as you said before, my combat strength alone can't match the firepower of Crimson Fang. The fact is, I can only summon one Living Armor. That hasn't changed." Zex looked up. A faint glimmer of hope dwelled in his eyes. "N-No, you're wrong, Glen! I was wrong back then! You were never a liability to the party! It was because of your ice magic and this guy's shield that we could fight at all!" He spoke desperately, his voice trembling, spittle flying. "Please! Give me one more chance! There's still time to make the Shadow Serpent quest. If you just come back, we can start over!" At those words, Glen's heart grew faintly cold. (*Shadow Serpent... huh.*) Zex hadn't apologized. Not a single word of regret for banishing him. There was no sense of reflection on the burden he was forcing upon Mireille and Gald. He was simply saying he needed Glen as "combat strength" to rebuild the party. (*This man hasn't changed at all.*) Slowly, but clearly, Glen shook his head. "Those days were certainly fun." His tone was gentle, like someone reminiscing about old times. "The dawn sky the first time we completed a quest. Gald laughing, which was rare, and the chilled wine Mireille prepared. You were passionately talking about our next goal." Glen's gray eyes narrowed, as if looking into the distance. "They're good memories. I'm grateful for them." A look of joy spread across Zex's face. "Then—!" "—But." Glen's voice was as quiet as a calm sea. Yet, that very stillness conveyed an unshakable strength of will. "...But now, t

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Episode 5

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

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