We finally arrived at the blacksmith's shop. Despite its location on the main street, it looked rather dirty; evidently, the owner didn't have time to clean due to the abundance of work. In response to a simple knock on the door, we were met with a "gentle" male voice.
"Why the hell... I'll rip off someone's hands and stuff them in their ears, so they won't distract me from my work?! Can't you see it says that I only accept new orders after six? I don't care if you're a peasant, a noble, or even the king himself!"
The door swung open, revealing a muscular man in his fifties with a thick, greasy beard, wiping his hands on a dirty apron. He scrutinized us with a look that seemed to assess our ability to pay.
"We..."
"Get lost!" The door slammed shut with force just inches from our noses, almost coming off its hinges in the process.
"You're right; I should learn more about the people of Verania," Aileen patted me on the shoulder. "They seem like such lovely folks. I could even enrich my vocabulary."
"Well, we still have to work with him."
I knocked again, and the door swung open at once. This time, the blacksmith greeted us with a small forging hammer in his hand, which looked capable of smashing our heads with a single blow.
"What part of 'I don't take orders' don't you understand? If you want to sell something, I'll stuff it so deep that you won't be able to get it back. And if you're the new neighbors who don't like the noise, I'll introduce you more closely to my instrument," the blacksmith menacingly shook the hammer and continued.
"We're actually from the Academy, here to help you. The mayor said you agreed," I blurted out as quickly as I could before the blacksmith unleashed his fury.
"Mmm," the blacksmith's gaze turned even sterner, as if he could melt steel with his look. "I vaguely remember agreeing to that while drunk; I didn't think he'd remember. Damn."
The blacksmith measured us once more with his gaze.
"Worthless oaf and that pompous lady. I'd be better off if he sent me a couple of donkeys for the wheel instead; they'd be more useful."
I'm amazed that this kind-hearted man hasn't woken up with his hammer embedded in his head.
"So, do you need us or not?"
"Fine, come in. You'll deal with the small stuff, as I have no time for it."
We passed through a large room where an impressive-sized furnace and an anvil were located. Along the right wall were laid out swords, shields, armor, and other weapons, along with various metalwork. In the other half of the hall, brooches and amulets were displayed, indicating that the blacksmith also worked on jewelry.
"Heh, so you make both weapons and jewelry?" I asked.
"None of your business; I do whatever I want," the blacksmith replied.
"Will we also be making something similar?" I inquired.
"Hahaha!!!" the blacksmith's thunderous laughter resonated in unison with the clinking of swords on the shelves. "Do I look like an idiot to you? You'll be making what I don't have time for."
The blacksmith went through a small door at the back of the building and descended into a large, dark basement. An uneasy feeling grew stronger with every passing second.
The basement was quite dimly lit with two small, dirt-smeared windows near the ceiling and a couple of oil lamps. Along the walls, a variety of metal junk was piled up—pots, knives, forks, mugs, and other household items.
"What are we going to do here?" Aileen nervously asked the question that had been bothering her.
"You'll be repairing things. What else?" the blacksmith replied.
"Like this?" I picked up the closest pot. It had a large crack, but that seemed like the least of its problems; it appeared to have lain in the basement for not just one month but maybe a whole year, as a thick layer of rust covered it almost entirely.
"Yes," a smile crossed the blacksmith's face, as sinister as the devil's. "I'm the only blacksmith here, so everyone brings their pots and knives to me. I mainly work with weapons and jewelry, so I send away anyone who bothers me with this stuff. But they insisted, so I started taking on repairs, saying I'd do it in my spare time. Truth is, I haven't had any spare time in these two years. Hahaha."
That laughter at the end says he has plenty of time on his hands.
"Alright then, fix everything here, mend, polish, sharpen, and do whatever else is needed. I think such trivial tasks won't be a problem for elite students like you. If you have any questions, ask. The materials are in the box by the exit; take whichever you prefer."
"We have to do all of this?"
"Well, you're elite students; I don't think such trivial matters would be a problem for you."
I glanced around the metal junk again. If you looked closely, each pot and knife had notes with the names of those who brought them in for repairs. If we were to tackle this seriously, we would sort everything out in a couple of months.
"Hold on, do you have a place to melt the metal?" Aileen wasn't thrilled at the idea of spending two weeks in a dark basement.
"Oh, right, it was somewhere here," the blacksmith walked to the far wall and revealed a large cauldron, under which a small brick-built furnace was hidden, along with some tongs and a couple of crucibles for melting metal.
"What's this?" Aileen scornfully surveyed the equipment and lightly kicked it.
"Hey, hey, young lady, be careful! Consider this an antique; my great-grandfather used these, and I did too until our city began trading in adamantium. That's when I could afford proper equipment."
"I don't know why, but I believe you about your great-grandfather. But don't you think we'll spend too much time with this?" Aileen said in frustration.
"Oh, come on, is it such a big deal for you? Just do what you can; I didn't expect anything extraordinary from inexperienced students."
"Oh, you..." the girl was shaking with anger. "Do you know that I'm one of the best engineers in the... mhm."
I quickly covered the enraged imperial's mouth.
"Everything's fine; let's just work on it," I whispered to her, leaning close. "Do you think they'll be thrilled to know that you're from the Empire? You also don't have a high opinion of us."
"Tch, fine. But I hope you'll give us a decent assignment afterward," the girl pointed her finger at the blacksmith, who only burst out laughing.
"Of course, of course. Once you're done here, you can choose your next task."
Laughing heartily, the blacksmith went upstairs, satisfied with how he put the youngsters in their place.
"Well, is it time to get to work, or will we never finish this?" I tried to move towards the furnace, but Aileen stopped me.
"Do you really think we'll finish all of this with your prehistoric methods? Most of this junk needs to be melted down again. If we melt and cast everything, we won't even finish half in two weeks."
"Does someone want to share some advanced methods from the Empire, so we can outshine that arrogant old man?"
"Hmph, well, I think even if he sees what I do, he won't understand how I did it. And you won't tell anyone, will you?" The girl moved closer to me, looking straight into my eyes.
"Well, if you let me participate, then I won't tell. But explain briefly what we're going to do."
"Let's start with something simple. Dishes usually have similar shapes and sizes, so we'll categorize them into groups and set up mass production."
The noon was approaching, and after-lunch lessons were about to begin at the city school when a black shadow silently slipped inside and entered the principal's office.
"Hello," Rizel said as she entered the room so inconspicuously that it seemed the principal lost a couple of years of his life just seeing her.
"H-h-hello," the principal stammered nervously, swallowing hard. Her appearance was as terrifying as the skull decorating her staff. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm from the Academy, and I was told I'll be working as a substitute teacher here."
"Eh?" The principal swallowed nervously again, sizing up the "teacher." Her quiet and kindly voice didn't quite match her intimidating appearance. "Oh, yes, I remember now. The mayor warned me about this. One of our teachers wanted to go on vacation for a while, but we couldn't find a replacement. So, you arrived just in time. But if you don't mind me asking, will you be teaching in this form?"
Rizel innocently inspected herself from all angles and then thoughtfully tilted her head.
"Well, if you're against it, I could change my appearance."
"That would be nice. Your classes will be at the end of the day. You'll teach the children reading, history, math, and hold the homeroom period. And please, be careful; your students are only eleven to fourteen years old."
"I'd prefer younger children; it's less of an age difference for me."
"Well, you see, the school is small, and most of our students come from poor families, so there's quite an age range in the classes. But I believe that, as an Academy student, you have enough life experience. And, most importantly, if the children ask you about the Academy—and they will—feel free not to answer if you don't want to, or provide only the information you consider necessary. Lately, stories about the adventures of Academy heroes have become quite popular among the children. They even want to perform a play about them at the upcoming festival."
"Heh, that's interesting. I'm glad not everyone in the city views Academy students with suspicion."
"I hope you'll get along well," the principal said as he led Rizel to an empty room and took out several books from the desk. "These are our textbooks, or at least they serve their purpose. And this notebook contains notes from the previous teacher about what you should tell the students during the upcoming classes."
"Alright, I'll be ready soon."
"No need to rush; the lessons will start in an hour."
As promised, an hour later, the principal led the young woman to her classroom. She had completely transformed herself, and no one would recognize her now.
"Children, this will be your temporary teacher, Academy student..." The principal got a little nervous and whispered to the girl, "I'm sorry; I forgot to ask your name."
"Risa."
"Teacher Risa." The principal stepped aside, and a tall girl in a delicate brown dress entered the classroom—perhaps too delicate for the winter weather, hinting at not many layers of clothing. She had unnaturally voluminous chestnut hair and large glasses with thick lenses that seemed to suggest her eyesight was terribly poor. However, when she reached her desk, she quickly dispelled that illusion. Through the thick lenses, she didn't even notice the chair in front of her and gracefully sat beside it.
"I-yai!" The girl let out a soft squeal and tried to stand up quickly, adjusting her glasses and hair in the process. Her rather large wig barely withstood the fall, miraculously staying on her head. It was evident she was doing her best to keep her identity hidden from everyone.
"Are you alright, teacher?" To the students, it didn't seem like it was an easy task to recover from such a fall.
"Cough, yes, it's nothing, just a little mishap," the girl took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and in one breath continued, "My name is Risa. I'm a first-year student at the Academy. On the recommendation of the Rector, I came with some friends to your city for temporary work and to strengthen relations with the common folk. Haah."
Taking a breath, the girl surveyed the class. There were only sixteen students, noticeably varying in age.
"Well, I won't disturb you, but don't bother the teacher too much," Rizel said. The lessons went peacefully, and although she pretended to read everything from the textbook attentively, she couldn't see anything through her glasses. So, she recounted what she managed to memorize and added her own knowledge. Since there was nothing else to do at the Academy besides reading books, she knew a lot, and the lessons didn't seem so dull. As the peaceful lesson time came to an end, the moment she feared the most approached—the homeroom period.
"Well, I don't know how you usually conduct these meetings, but if you have any questions, you can ask," Rizel said, not managing to finish her sentence before students surrounded her.
"Teacher, are you really from the Academy? And why aren't you in the uniform?" asked a lively twelve-year-old boy.
"Yes, I'm from the Academy, and we were told that it's better to dress in regular clothes here."
"But you can't call your clothes regular; it looks more like a masquerade," a sweet girl said, disappointedly gesturing with her hands.
"Well, I just prefer to dress this way."
"It looks more like you're hiding from someone or concealing something," a quiet girl standing behind the crowd briefly diverted her gaze from her book and then returned to reading.
"Hahaha, no, why would I be?" Rizel chuckled.
"Teacher, do you know many people in the Academy?"
"Well, not so much, really."
"And the heroes that all these stories are about—have you met any of them?"
"Who?"
"How can you not know? They are very popular in many cities. We even want to stage a small play about their adventures."
The children handed Rizel a small notebook with the roles written down and the working title "Princess and Dragon."
"Why does this title seem suspiciously familiar to me?" Doubts about the play's main characters began creeping into the necromancer's mind.