Ice Partner and Peaceful Days: A Banished Summoner's Life with a Lone Knight
Glenn, a 30-year-old summoner, is expelled from his B-rank party 'Crimson Fang' for only being able to summon a single Living Armor. Their leader, Zex, dismisses him coldly: 'Your summon can't hold the front line.' Glenn simply says, 'I see,' and leaves without a fight.
However, the Living Armor he poured all his magic into for fifteen years has secretly evolved into a higher being with its own will—a 'Living Knight.' Glenn himself, through relentless training, possesses three times the magic c
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 incident. 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 complete.
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, creaking protest.
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 as the door quietly swung inward.
Standing in the doorway was a tall man. Mid-thirties, perhaps. 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 breast. Silverwork shaped like the wind — a mark worn only by B-rank wind mages recognized by the Guild.
The man surveyed the room, his gaze pausing for just a moment on the Living Knight against the wall. His narrow eyes widened, ever so slightly. But he immediately returned his attention to Glen and offered a genial smile.
"Forgive the intrusion. This is 'Iron Hammer and Engraving,' I trust? I was referred by Guild Branch Chief Dolg."
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 belt 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 scratches, 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.
But it had its drawbacks.
"The mana consumption is severe. With this current staff, three consecutive uses is my limit. When I try for a fourth, the transmission efficiency drops off a cliff."
Klaus twirled the staff lightly and sighed.
"To be honest, I've had a few close calls because of it. I went around to various weapon shops and magic tool stores, hoping for a solution. But none of them could help."
"And that led 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 felt a small flicker of surprise. 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 come to acknowledge 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 gestured for Klaus to hold his hand over it.
"Please, keep holding your staff and slowly channel your mana into it."
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 began to appear one after another. Mana flow rate, attribute wavelength, transmission efficiency, attenuation rate—
Glen's eyes tracked the numbers as he assembled his analysis in his head.
(*Specialized in 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 oscillations. 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 plummeted.
Glen put away the crystal plate and offered Klaus a chair.
"From what I've seen, your mana derives its power not from volume, but from the velocity of its flow."
"Ah, you saw that clearly. Yes. 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 over to the material shelves against the wall and picked up several pieces of wood. From among them, he selected a branch with smooth, white bark and returned to the workbench.
"This is a white birch magic 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.
"And I have one more suggestion."
Glen picked up a thin metal rod — an engraving needle — and began tracing complex patterns 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 so highly."
He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling.
"This is… how should I put it… exactly 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 earnest.
"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 to complete, 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 stated the amount quietly as he wrote it in his ledger. A typical mass-produced staff cost around forty silver coins, so this was roughly five times the price. But Klaus showed not the slightest surprise.
"That seems reasonable. Just looking at you, I can tell the work will be worth it."
He stood and extended his hand to Glen.
"I look forward to it, Glen."
Glen also rose and clasped the offered hand.
"Likewise. I'll make a staff that lives up to your expectations."
Klaus left the workshop with a bright 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 used to provide combat support for his party.
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 crisp, satisfying *snick, snick* echoed through the room. 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 painfully altered. Thick bandages were wrapped in layers from his left shoulder down to his chest. A wound from corrosive magic, perhaps; a faint, unpleasant 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, dark circles hung beneath his eyes. His short-cropped red hair was unkempt and shaggy.
For a moment, he stared, his gaze shifting 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 regarded 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 those injuries, you can't be out on a job yet."
Zex's face twisted with anguish.
"…I heard. About what happened at the frozen lake. They say you used your Living Knight to freeze the entire lake, enemies and all. And with a D-rank party, no less."
"Yeah. It was a coincidence. The enemy's water cannon just happened to pair well with this guy's shield."
Glen gently brushed away the wood shavings scattered on his workbench.
"…Glen."
Zex took a step closer, 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.
"Honestly, I still don't like your way of fighting, all focused on defense. But—"
"We got wrecked 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 were 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 flickered in his eyes.
"N-No, you're wrong, Glen! I was the one who 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 in a desperate rush. His voice trembled, spittle flying.
"Please! Just give me one more chance! There's still time to make the Shadow Serpent job. If you just come back, we can start over!"
At those words, a faint chill settled in Glen's heart.
(*Shadow Serpent… huh.*)
Zex hadn't apologized. Not a single word of regret for having banished him. No hint of reflection on the immense burden he was forcing onto 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 unmistakably, Glen shook his head.
"Those days were certainly fun."
His tone held a gentle resonance, like someone reminiscing about old times.
"That dawn sky, the first time we completed a job. Gald actually smiled, and Mireille had chilled wine ready for us. You were passionately talking about our next goal."
Glen's gray eyes narrowed, as if gazing 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 voi
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